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With a grim expression, Natamus mounted his horse. This powerfully built general's warhorse had been carefully selected from the finest breeds. Its hooves were a full size larger than those of ordinary warhorses. Its coat was as pure as the cleanest yellow desert sand, without a single stray hair, and it reflected a satin-like gleam in the sunlight.
He gave it a slight squeeze with his knees, and the horse, accustomed to him, began to move forward. Its broad hooves struck the bluestone pavement with a crisp, ringing sound. Several cavalrymen quickly followed, raising the general’s ceremonial standards and clearing the way.
The commoners, nobles, and merchants who had been protesting loudly in the square hastily made way as this imposing general rode toward them. Just moments ago, they had seemed as though they might tear down the very sky with their fervor. Yet now, upon seeing the relative of the “chief culprit” they had denounced, they behaved like mice confronted by a cat, wishing they could bury their heads in the crowd.
All because Natamus’s gloomy gaze swept everywhere and his fingers trembled slightly. At such a moment, who would dare to “pluck the tiger’s whiskers”? Who knew if they might be cut down right there in the street?
When Natamus finally let out a regretful sigh and urged his horse forward again, everyone realized he meant it. Today, however, no one had been foolish enough to offer themselves up, so the heavy sword at Natamus's waist remained unstained by blood.
He continued advancing along the smooth bluestone road. The streets on both sides were extremely wide, easily accommodating three carriages riding side by side. Yet, this bustling thoroughfare was uncharacteristically silent. Nearly one-third of the city’s population had gathered in the square while the rest discussed this sudden, unexpected defeat.
The people of this nation differed from those of any other country. They were intensely passionate about national affairs, such as politics and military matters. Even though they could not intervene directly, they were enthusiastic about the debate. Some would neglect their normal business over such matters, shutting their shop doors and rushing to the edge of the square to argue with others.
Every individual possessed a unique sense of responsibility and never tired of discussing these issues. In fact, when enough of them gathered, they dared to oppose the Emperor in broad daylight. This terrifying wave of public opinion was something even the supremely sovereign Emperor had to handle with great caution.
It was a double-edged sword. When the populace supported the Emperor, the entire Empire could unite as one. However, once they began to oppose her, even the Emperor would find herself in a perilous situation. This unique political ecosystem could not be found anywhere else in the world.
Every emperor felt both pride and concern over this. The current Emperor had ascended the throne only three years ago, and she was left feeling both at a loss and deeply angered by this peculiar experience.
Natamus returned to his residence in silence. The marble building did not cover a large area and was not as grand as some of the wealthy merchants’ houses in the city center. Yet, the moment he stepped across the threshold, his expression softened. He no longer exuded the same oppressive presence as before, though he still resembled a fierce beast gathering its fury. Even the cavalrymen guarding him dared not speak rashly.
As soon as he entered the courtyard, he dismissed his guards and silently walked alone into the rear garden. At the same time, he drew a heavy sword from his waist.
The sword looked utterly terrifying. It was as wide as an adult’s palm and as thick as a finger. Although it tapered toward the edge, its weight alone could easily crush a person’s wrist. Yet, in Natamus’s hands, the sword felt as light as a feather and did not cause the slightest hesitation in his arm's movement. The four-foot-long blade gently touched the stone-paved ground.
His expression grew increasingly ferocious as his emotions built until they reached a peak. Then, his eyes suddenly snapped open wide. With a furious roar, he swung the heavy sword forward. The blade tore through the air with a sharp, screaming cry.
With a crisp crack of splintering wood, the sword plunged deep into a thick wooden post before him. With a slight upward flick of his arm, the hardwood was completely ripped apart. The upper section of the post, reinforced with iron, crashed to the ground.
The wail of the torn air sounded like the sorrowful, unrestrained wails of a ferocious beast. A heavy sword swung, smashing wooden posts into splinters one after another. His heavy iron boots crushed the thin bluestone slabs into fragments with each step. In the blink of an eye, the once clean and well-kept rear garden was reduced to a field of ruins.
Terrified by this commotion, the servants hid to one side, exchanging nervous glances and afraid of drawing the general’s attention.
The thick blade plunged deep into the floor with a dull, heavy thud.
"Bring me more!"
The servants immediately sprang into action. They carried new wooden posts into the garden one by one and cleared away the shattered remnants. In moments, the garden was almost restored, except for the broken stone slabs, which could not be dealt with so quickly. But Natamus paid no heed. He simply needed an outlet for his emotions.
He pulled his sword from the stone slab and charged in again without hesitation.
It took destroying over a hundred wooden posts for Natamus to vent a fraction of the fury in his heart. His worry grew stronger by the day. Though his temper was already as fiery as a blazing forge, he had not yet killed Arius because doing so would negatively affect his younger brother upon his return.
He did not believe his brother could have died so easily, even if he was surrounded by tens of thousands of enemy troops. This was not mere wishful thinking. It stemmed from his deep understanding of his brother. Moreover, he clearly understood why his brother had been subjected to such treachery and ambush.
As the Emperor’s trusted confidants, the two brothers had long been a thorn in the side of the nobility. Still, he never expected Arius to be as shameless and base as to sacrifice over a thousand armored cavalry just to frame his brother!
Each of those soldiers was an elite of the Empire and a precious asset to the state. They had undergone rigorous training since the age of twelve. Each could move freely while wearing armor weighing a hundred kilograms. Once they formed their battle arrays, they could easily crush enemies several times their number. The nation had invested enormously in training each soldier and yet, due to that fool’s selfishness, they had been thrown away without a second thought.
Thinking of this, Natamus almost choked from the pain in his heart.
This all acted like fuel, burning within him. Rage continuously sprang forth from it. His chest, which had just begun to calm, started heaving once more.
"Bring me more targets—quickly!"
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