“We have matters to discuss with the church, so make arrangements to invite the Pope.”
“I shall obey, Your Majesty.”
The most heavily guarded place in the Imperial Palace—the Emperor’s residence.
Inside, there were the Emperor and Count Bradley.
Count Julius, who had been instructed by the Emperor to invite the Pope, was already refining the wording of the invitation in his mind.
‘I haven’t seen him since the new year, so I shall use that as an excuse to invite him.’
As he was essentially the Emperor’s proxy, he had to be cautious even with a single letter written on the invitation.
If it came off too stiff, it might make the Emperor appear overly rigid, so Julius’s main role was to write it smoothly but clearly convey the intended meaning.
“Who would’ve thought someone would openly pry into the Empire’s issues?”
Just as the content of the letter was spinning rapidly in Julius’s mind, he heard the Emperor’s muttering.
Holding a book in his hand, the Emperor was wearing a resigned smile.
“Your Majesty, isn’t this a bit too much to think about?”
Julius replied in consolation to the Emperor’s soliloquy, though his expression still looked a bit bitter.
“I recently finished reading his fairy tale book.”
After reading the Iron-Blooded Alchemist entirely, the Emperor had begun diving into the fairy tales drawn by Rupert.
At first, he thought they were merely stories suited for children, but at some point, Rupert’s tales began to contain sharp criticisms of the Empire’s realities.
From A Dog of Flanders to Pinocchio and now Hansel and Gretel.
While from a child’s perspective, they appeared as sad or joyful stories, from the Emperor’s viewpoint, they felt like petitions directed at himself.
“Was it a pointless war?”
Rupert’s new fairy tale book, Hansel and Gretel, began with the impoverished parents abandoning their children, Hansel and Gretel, in a forest after the war.
The devastating effects of the war were blatantly written in the fairy tale.
The Emperor, Leonious Bell, couldn’t help but recall the war he had instigated a few years back with Sylvania.
It was a war that did not have a solid justification or was fought for the citizens of the Empire.
– The power of the nobles has recently become too strong.
It was a war fought to reduce the empowered noble factions that had grown due to sustained peace and diminish their grasp on their territories.
At that time, he believed he was making the right decision as an Emperor, but now, he wasn’t so sure.
Leonious Bell was filled with regret, pondering whether there might have been a better way.
‘Regret? Am I regretting…?’
This was something unimaginable to him in the past, but now he was gradually changing.
Thus, while watching Hansel and Gretel, rather than feeling upset, he urgently invited the Pope, first thinking of a remedy for the abandoned children.
Since the church was originally dedicated to helping orphans and the poor, it would be more effective if the Imperial Family assisted them.
“Indeed, it seems the blood of Somerset still runs true.”
“Is there some kind of secret regarding Somerset, Your Majesty?”
Count Julius looked puzzled. As far as he knew, the Somerset household was merely an old count family in the southern region, lacking any distinct characteristics.
It wasn’t a famous knightly lineage, nor were they involved in politics; just another ordinary local lord family.
“Do you know what Somerset means?”
“Isn’t it just ‘somersault’?”
Somerset, in ancient terms, meant ‘somersault.’
“Their ancestor, John Beaufort—his alias was Somerset.”
Even with the Emperor’s answer, Julius still bore an expression of confusion.
That was only natural.
Conversations about Somerset were only passed down within the Imperial Family to those who would inherit the Emperor’s throne.
They were the ‘Acrobats,’ an organization that took on all the dirty work lurking in the shadows since the founding of the Empire under the first Emperor.
The story that John Beaufort, the first and last leader of the Acrobats, started the Somerset Count household was likely known only to him.
After the Empire’s founding, John Beaufort disbanded the organization, worried he would become an obstacle to the first Emperor, and went to live in the countryside, erasing all aspects of his past.
It had become a tale nobody remembered anymore.
However, the Emperor firmly believed that blood cannot be hidden.
He thought of Rupert Somerset, who stood out like a sore thumb.
*
“It’d be better if you step aside, Oun.”
Was he around 120cm tall?
The little girl with golden short hair stood defiantly with her fists clenched, facing the man blocking the entrance of the mansion.
“No can do, young lady.”
Having encountered the little girl’s threats countless times—no, dozens of times—Knight Oun answered as usual.
‘Though Rach and the young lady’s joint attacks are formidable, all I need to do is guard the door.’
The ongoing battle between the free-spirited Aida and the must-stop Oun had become a main attraction for the mansion’s residents.
Initially, Aida had a string of victories, but at some point, the now nimble Aida started to evade Oun with her puppy, Rach.
And now, Oun was falling into a sense of inadequacy that he couldn’t even catch an 8-year-old girl.
– Slash of gratitude ten thousand times a day.
He was undoubtedly talented enough to enter the Imperial Academy, but he had grown complacent, being bogged down by his modest talent.
Thus, he graduated from the academy with almost the lowest scores, unable to get hired in the capital and ending up here in the southern Somerset.
Yet even after coming to Somerset, he believed all the knights here were still no good, remaining foolishly unaware.
After losing Aida, he experienced a change.
He returned to basics, practicing the Mana Training Method at dawn and began swinging vertical slashes ten thousand times a day.
On the first day, he could only complete ten thousand strikes by dawn, paralyzed by fatigue from the overwhelming training beyond what a knight’s body could handle.
But he kept persevering for about a month, grinding through the training, and during that time, he gained enlightenment.
‘I was so dazzled by the showiness that I couldn’t even look back at what I could do.’
The vertical slash, which could be said to be the essence of swordsmanship.
He realized he had been under the illusion that he had mastered something simple.
The moment he understood how many unnecessary movements and forces were included in his vertical slash.
Oun had transformed from a sword user to an expert.
‘So slow, even the act of running away.’
After that, he showed Aida and Rach what being an expert knight meant.
Sometimes, simply through speed
Sometimes, by setting traps
Sometimes, through strategy and tactics
Oun, sticking closely to Aida, prevented her escape, and he was truly worthy of being called a strong wall.
But today, standing proudly before Oun was Aida, equally changed from before.
“Today, Aida will defeat the witch!”
Aida’s body bounced into the air as if bouncing on a trampoline, flipping once and aimed a kick at the top of Oun’s head with her heels.
It was a high-level kick that was hard to believe came from a child.
But the opponent was now the expert Oun, no longer a rookie.
Bam!
Oun took a stance, blocking his head with his forearm, resembling a great mountain.
The battle began between Aida, as free as a soaring bird, and Oun, resembling a sturdy steel shield.
“Snacks!”
Rupert and Count Bradley watched it all while munching on treats.
*
“Sir Jorge, come over and have a seat.”
Every time her words escaped the lips of the Empire’s only princess, Ioleen, the dark guard Jorge felt a chill in his heart.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
If he had his way, he would’ve leaped out the window right away, but he couldn’t defy the princess’s order, so he had no choice but to head to the chair beside her.
“Do you think my work is boring?”
“No! That’s genuinely slander from those who know not even the first character of comics!!!”
It was already a well-known secret that Ioleen was serializing her comic in the magazine Manhwapia.
However, at the passionate request of Head Attendant Aiden, her work had to be done only within the palace, so she often called Jorge to ask for his opinions on her comic.
Of course, Jorge’s initial impressions hadn’t been burdensome.
Her work [Puppet Theatre] was quite amusing, and he had simply shared his thoughts.
But,
‘Hmmm… the dramatic parts feel tedious.’
‘Isn’t this story dragging on too long?’
‘Hurry and show me the dolls fighting!’
As two months had passed since the serialization began, complaints about Ioleen’s work were slowly starting to emerge.
‘Rupert!!! That author!’
Jorge inwardly cursed Rupert.
It was impossible for Ioleen to get direct feedback on her work, so she usually figured it out through the stories Jorge conveyed.
Recently, Ioleen had given Jorge an earful after meeting Rupert and discussing her work.
‘If you cannot deliver my feedback objectively, I cannot realize my mistakes!’
From then on, Jorge had been commanded to pass along all bad reviews, so every time Ioleen called, he could only feel a jolt of fear.
No matter how much he wanted it, delivering criticism on a princess’s work was a heavy burden for Jorge.
“Now then, let’s hear the opinions of the Empire regarding this week’s serialized part.”
“…Would you like to hear the good reviews or the bad ones first?”
But fearing that if he kept telling only good things and Ioleen eventually learned the truth, he thought he might be in real trouble, prompting Jorge to ask her with a resigned heart.
“Let’s start with the bad reviews.”
At Ioleen’s command, Jorge recalled an ordinary conversation he had secretly overheard between a father and son on the street.
Deciding to relay it, his lips parted.
“Son, that puppet theatre, it’s fun, huh… did you trick me?”
And Ioleen’s expression froze.
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