From far above, the capital of Andras, Belfor, resembled a well-refined sword. Straight buildings were laid out in efficiently straight lines. It didn’t really fit an architect’s aesthetic, but there was no one who could dismiss the grandeur of the city.

The towering spire in the center of the city tied it all together. Seven swordmasters guarded the empire, so there were seven towers in the image of a crown that surrounded the imperial palace. A bright light that befitted a master’s aura illuminated the structure both night and day, proving the empire’s greatness.

Unlike Meltor, there was no meeting room in Andras’ imperial palace. The emperor determined everything. It was an absolute monarchy that moved only according to his decisions. If there was one facility, it was an audience room.

“Dammit, when can I get out of here?” A man shoved two knights aside, moving with a deep anger and nervousness.

As soon as the man had returned to Belfort, he asked for an audience with the emperor and entered the imperial palace before there was a reply. Usually, this wasn’t possible, but the man had a special identity.

He was Fermut el Andras, the heir to the throne. There...