ULRBE 251 AU-SS 1

Alternate Universe Side Story 1

The seventieth birthday of Emperor Farfanan was practically a festival for the entire grand empire. The whole continent was in a commotion. Rare and precious treasures from every corner filled the storerooms to the brim, and envoys sent in eager competition crowded the Imperial Castle.

In front of the massive castle gates guarded by golden lion statues, the procession celebrating the Emperor’s birth extended endlessly, remaining undiminished even after three days and three nights.

It was truly the peak of authority, fitting for the ruler of a great empire.

Yet even for the continent’s supreme ruler and all-powerful conqueror, there was something he could not bend to his will.

“So, you are saying no?”

“That would be the case. After all, even I have my stomach limits.”

The young boy tilted his head. Standing straight against an Emperor who radiated overwhelming pressure by his mere presence, he seemed entirely devoid of fear. The corners of the Emperor Hezra’s eyes twitched faintly.

Even after establishing a vast empire, ascending to an unassailable position, and stacking achievements like a golden tower, there were still things he could not control.

“Damian.”

“…”

“How long do you intend to live like this? You hold the title of Commander of the Knights, but how are you any different from a idle slacker?”

“If I were to live properly, my cousins would find themselves in quite a pinch.”

Hezra remained entirely unfazed by those direct words.

“You take after me.”

His razor-sharp gaze swept down from the raven-black hair, trailing over a face that had selectively inherited only the most beautiful traits of his youngest son and daughter-in-law.

The frame visible beneath those broad shoulders possessed an innate affinity for martial prowess. However, this grandson’s talent was glaringly evident even before his limbs had fully grown.

Among Hezra’s grandchildren, those born with the gifts of a magic swordsman or a mage were not few. Yet among those many imperial descendants, this boy was the only one who resembled Hezra the most—and the only one Hezra had personally trained.

He was different from his very nature. This boy alone never seemed particularly strained despite receiving his grandfather’s harsh instruction. That indifference and audacity were another kind of talent altogether, making Hezra immensely pleased with his grandson.

Pleased enough to permit the public to daringly call this grandson the ‘Young Hezra.’

“What a repulsive thing to say.”

Except for his manner of speaking, that is. The Emperor click his tongue, lightly ignoring the words intended to rub him the wrong way.

“That is why you inheriting this seat is the most peaceful conclusion. You can protect it, and you won’t be afraid of your cousins. You should have accepted it when I offered to give it to you long ago.”

“I have no interest in such a troublesome position.”

“Yes, I have heard that answer so many times my ears might bleed. So when I pointed you toward another path, what was that about your stomach limits?”

“Is that ‘other path’ marrying a twelve-year-old?”

Hezra tilted his chin back as if to say, what of it?

Adelind Lux was the heir to a rare family of magic swordsmen, possessing the qualities of one herself. Secretly, the Emperor had been thinking of pairing her with his favored grandson. A promise made during childhood was still a promise, but he also felt it was about time his grandson had a country to call his own.

In that plan, age was hardly important. Unless, of course, the Grand Duke’s daughter was seventy-two instead of twelve.

“She is the proper heir to a sovereign house, a twelve-year-old of magic swordsman lineage. It is not as if she will remain twelve forever.”

“Is it because breeding magic swordsmen with each other increases the chances of another magic swordsman being born? Please do that yourself, Your Imperial Majesty. Since you failed three times, surely you will succeed on the fourth. It isn’t impossible for you yet, is it?”

Coming from a grandson, these were embarrassing words to hear. Yet Hezra replied as though he felt no embarrassment whatsoever.

“Three children are more than enough.”

“I won’t be doing it either.”

“Go meet her first. Your thoughts might change.”

Damian contorted his face in clear distaste. Had it been from the beginning, perhaps, but having one’s thoughts change after seeing a child sounded even more repulsive.

Go meet her first? A peculiar light flashed across Damian’s face as he turned his back on the Emperor. It was not as if he lacked a way to spite his grandfather.

As Damian closed the door with long strides, the Emperor’s smooth, quiet voice leaked out from behind him, gazing up at the portrait of his youngest son hanging on the wall.

“That boy is still young, so he does not understand my heart. If it were you, you would have understood… Isn’t that right, Mireil?”

“Father is alive and well, living ten minutes away by carriage, so please call him and ask him yourself!”

The Emperor threw his head back and laughed.

However, that laughter did not last long. The very next day, his grandson vanished without a trace.

Kalchev Castle.

Ascending along the winding road, a grand ducal castle came into view. Carriages and carts entered through the castle gates in a steady stream.

Behind them, a boy riding a fine steed passed through the gate. He was completely composed, looking as if he had merely returned from a casual stroll. Yet those watching could hardly share that perspective.

“Hold on! Please stop!”

Damian blinked slowly. He answered in short Cassadian.

“Why?”

Faced with a starkly young face and an attitude that cut straight to the point, a vein bulged on the guard captain’s forehead. However, because the boy before him was clearly no ordinary commoner at a single glance, the captain had no choice but to adjust his tone cautiously.

“May I ask for your name?”

“Huh?”

The boy paused briefly, chewing over the unfamiliar foreign word. Name? He silently tilted his head.

When was the last time someone had asked for his name? It had not happened since he was at least five years old. Even before five, people had only asked to coax a reaction out of a child, not because they genuinely did not know it.

“Do you possess an entry permit? Or perhaps a token that can prove your identity would suffice.”

The guard captain exercised maximum patience as he continued. Honestly, at this point, no matter how noble the visitor’s status, the captain was in a position where he could offer a word of reprimand. Yet instinct urged him to be prudent. Even while sensing his subordinates stirring behind him, he maintained a polite demeanor.

Looking down at the guard captain with a puzzled expression without even dismounting, the boy let out a small exclamation. This was neither Bamulus nor the southern Duchy of Spolant. Naturally, they would not open the gate for him based on his face alone.

Something to prove his identity… After contemplating briefly, he unfastened the single earring dangling from one ear and tossed it over. Catching the earring as if it were drawn directly into his hand, the guard captain held it up and tilted his head.

“Farfanan…”

A man wearing an earring in only one ear was a Farfanan custom. Recognizing him as a Farfanan from the earring was hardly surprising. However, the guard captain’s gaze caught the golden emblem gleaming brightly inside the blue-azure gem reflecting the sunlight.

It was the coat of arms of the Farfanan Imperial House.

A young age not yet twenty, striking looks, and blue eyes. There was only one imperial family member who matched this appearance. The moment he realized this, the guard captain turned around as if seized by a fit and sprinted off.

“I must inform His Grace the Grand Duke. Immediately!”

In place of the captain who had vanished in an instant, a guard offered the earring back to Damian with trembling hands. Damian did not bother to blame them and simply hooked the earring back onto his ear.

He could feel lingering gazes watching him from all around, likely having overheard the commotion. Unbothered, he dismounted, handed the reins to the guards, and stepped inside the grand ducal castle.

There was a considerable distance from the main gate to the interior of the castle. Damian idly strolled along the castle cloister, which favored a Northern Cassadian style, taking in the sights. He gave no thought to the trouble awaiting those who would have to scour the entire imperial court to find him after he vanished as he pleased.

Kalchev certainly carried a freer atmosphere than the imperial castle of Bamulus. Officials, knights, and nobles were gathered here and there. Mages were hardly to be seen. Instead, young children could occasionally be spotted.

A few of them showed curiosity upon seeing him, but Damian did not bother striking up a conversation.

He had been walking for quite some time. From around the corner at the end of the hallway, a voice thick with agitation echoed outward.

“What is so great about some grand duke’s daughter anyway!”

The words struck his ears clearly, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Even if it was a quiet corner, could a voice belittling the Grand Duke’s granddaughter really resound so loudly within the grand ducal castle?

If he had heard such words in Bamulus, he would have suspected his grandfather arranged it to push him into a match with the twelve-year-old. But since his grandfather did not yet know he had come down all the way to Luxen, these words were at least not aimed at him.

Now then, should he listen to what the people of Luxen had to say about his ‘prospective fiancée’?

“What is the big deal about making the Grand Duke’s daughter uncomfortable? Just because I didn’t cater to that stupid brat’s whims, you suspend my succession to the title?”

“What is she? She is your master. Sela, you’re an idiot who still doesn’t get that even after turning twenty, which is why you can’t inherit the title.”

A sigh-filled voice followed, sounding as though it were thoroughly accustomed to such chaotic scenes. Unlike its furious counterpart, it was drenched in annoyance.

The moment he rounded the corner, he saw five men and women of mediocre height ungracefully surrounding a single girl. They packed around her so tightly that neither her face nor her hair color was visible. Only the hem of a skirt, thin as a butterfly’s wing, peeked out briefly.

It was five against one—a clear, overwhelming difference in numbers—yet a strangely taut tension lingered in the air.

“You aren’t even a person of Luxen!”

“But I can certainly take away your title. Being a native of Luxen really isn’t anything special. Right?”

Come to think of it, he had heard that Luxen was divided between factions supporting the Grand Duke’s granddaughter and those supporting the Grand Duke’s niece. Seeing this, it seemed the tide had already turned, but…

“You… You… My uncle won’t let you get away with this!”

“Hmm? I doubt that. Your uncle even poisoned me, yet here I am, completely fine. What more can you even do now? Run to Adel, talk trash, and get disciplined? Go ahead and try. Let’s watch and see if you have any reputation left to scrape away.”

To think there was still a country where things like poisonings happened in real life. Had it not been for the people in modern attire passing by in the garden on the other side, he might have thought he had dropped into a time two hundred years ago.

So what use is there in having a country like this?

He thinks it’s enough just to shove anything into my hands. Damian let out a low click of his tongue.

As if agreeing with his thought, the conversation exposing the true state of the country continued.

“What about you then? You were poisoned and hovered on the brink of death, but in the end, my aunt and uncle are completely fine. No matter how much you boast, that’s all you amounted to!”

“Fine… Well, if you want to believe that, go ahead and believe it. But even if that were true, do you really think I can’t touch these guys?”

At those words, the young fools gathered in a circle flinched in unison.

Though they looked like a single gang, their positions were strictly different. In times like this, there was no need to deal with everyone. Cutting off the link with the weakest link was more than enough.

“You said Adel can’t protect me, but what about you? Can you protect your subordinates?”

“You…!”

“No matter how much of a scene you throw, the fact that I am the daughter of Count Ermiz will not change. But if I throw a scene, a few of the kids here might end up with their parents losing their heads. Don’t you think?”

At a glance, someone had already been persuaded. Her skill in driving a wedge with just a few words was quite impressive.

As the situation seemed to settle down roughly, Damian turned his body to leave.

“Hey, let go of me!”

The voice burst out at that moment. He let out a sigh. Verbal arguments were none of his business, but witnessing an act of violence before his eyes was unpleasant.

Tap.

At the sound of his footsteps, a few of the people surrounding the girl turned their heads.

“Who…”

One of the group glared fiercely, attempting to intimidate him, but intimidated by a physique nearly a full head taller, he quietly shut his mouth. Meanwhile, the girl whose arms had been grabbed shook her elbows free with force.

Damian swept his eyes over them before speaking slowly.

“You guys are really loud.”

If this were the imperial castle of Bamulus, everyone here would have vanished without a trace by now, but these Luxen kids just blinked their eyes. He had no choice but to add one more line.

“Stop making a racket and leave.”

“Who do you think you are…”

“Let’s go!”

One of them flared up, but the woman who had been fighting at the very front shouted sharply first and turned away. The mob mentality that had flared up so fiercely had long since cooled down. No one was reckless enough to escalate matters further when a witness was standing right before their eyes.

On the other hand, the girl who had been alone stood dazed on the spot.

I meant for her to leave, too.

The moment the young imperial descendant scowled and turned his head.

Blink.

Those marble-like eyes looked somewhat familiar.

Coincidentally, it was a face he recognized.

Not that he knew her personally. He had simply seen her once when he was invited to the southern duchy, Spolant. It was likely during the brief period he frequented the school, unable to overcome his father’s strong insistence.

Her pale hair, so rare in Farfanan, had caught his eye back then.

What was her name again?

He only recalled the memory of asking the South Duke for her name on a whim, only to be teased for an entire day.

He felt a brief flicker of annoyance, but regardless, that was due to the South Duke’s insolence, not the girl’s fault.

His gaze softened as it brushed past her fair hair, gleaming white under the sunlight, and her slender cheeks.