Chapter 121: I’m Here (5)

Sefira’s carriage entered the Central District of Eslow’s fief at once.

“Wow...!”

“This place is incredible!”

For Taragon and Katherine, who had never before set foot in a major city, the sight was eye-opening.

The roads were paved with expensive marble, usually reserved for statues, gleaming beautifully under the sunlight, and the crystal-clear artificial streams flowing along both sides of the streets were clean enough to drink from. The gentle sound of running water filled the air, adding to the city's refreshing ambiance. The buildings stood apart at spacious intervals. They were a blend of masterfully sculpted wood and delicate metalwork, and were works of art.

The people walking these streets were equally refined. Neatly dressed, elegant, and poised, they radiated confidence and grace—a self-assurance that came only from knowing they were the central figures of this world.

The streets were unusually quiet. Rushing around was not a virtue among high nobles, so Sefira’s carriage made it to its destination without a hitch.

“We have arrived at Feathers Hotel, Lord Myle.”

The Feathers Hotel, an establishment with two hundred years of history, was an exclusive residence for high nobles only.

As Didos, captain of the Fifth Division of the Order of the Galaxy, opened the carriage door, Myle closed the book he had been reading. Before stepping out, he turned to his companions.

“From this point onward, be mindful of your words and actions. You represent Sefira here—do not forget that.”

His gaze lingered longer on Taragon, as if emphasizing the warning.

Then, Myle turned, looking worried.

“Keter, you...”

It was obvious what he wanted to say.

Even if I tell you to behave, you won’t listen, will you?

Keter waved his hand dismissively.

“I’ll handle it, Myle.”

“...Just don’t do anything that can’t be fixed.”

“Oh, come on. What do you take me for, a mad dog? I don’t bark or bite at every passing person, you know.”

“Fine. I’ll trust you.”

Myle tightened his collar and stepped out of the carriage first. Immediately, the Galaxy Knights formed two rows on either side of the entrance, standing at attention.

Passersby stopped in their tracks, drawn to the striking figures emerging from the carriage. They couldn’t help but stop and stare—after all, Sefira was renowned for their beauty. Their golden irises looked like the sun kissed them. Gems resembled their pupils. Their physiques were sculpted by years of archery. Those piqued the interest of most women.

Even the men found themselves pausing—not because of the brothers, but because of Katherine. With her sleek, tightly braided ponytail, sun-kissed bronze skin, and muscular physique, she was like a wild horse galloping freely across the plains. She was the epitome of raw, untamed beauty.

But among them, the most striking presence was undeniably Keter. His silver hair, swept back to fully reveal his forehead, stood in stark contrast to his dark crimson shirt, the top three buttons undone. His sleeves were casually rolled up, and his hands were tucked into his pockets. His gaze seemed to be unfocused.

As Myle approached the hotel entrance, a concierge in a sky-blue uniform stepped forward and bowed deeply.

“Welcome to Feathers Hotel, the first and finest hotel of the kingdom, Lord Myle El Sefira.”

“Have our carriage stored properly.”

“ I apologize, my lord, but that will not be possible.”

“Hmm?”

Myle frowned, as if asking what he meant.

“I regret to inform you that there are no available rooms, my lord.”

Myle’s brows furrowed. That made no sense. Of course, during the Sword of the South Tournament, nobles from all regions—the south, east, west, and north—flocked to the city. However, hotels in the south prioritized housing southern nobles first. Moreover, it was customary to always reserve rooms for prominent noble families, ensuring that the highest-ranking houses were never turned away.

Sefira was among the first to arrive. And yet, they were being told there were no rooms? It was blatantly obvious that this was the work of hostile noble factions. It was a petty and underhanded scheme.

But knowing this didn’t change anything. Sefira's position was weak. If Myle protested, they would simply receive a polite, empty apology—nothing more.

After glaring at the concierge, Myle calmly stated, “Deliver this message to the hotel manager—Sefira will never stay at Feathers Hotel again.”

“We deeply regret the inconvenience.”

With that, the Sefira carriage turned away. This was a huge humiliation.

Turning to the rest, Myle said, “Apparently, there are rats at Feathers Hotel. We’re going somewhere else.”

But it wasn’t just Feathers Hotel. Every hotel rejected them with the same excuse: no vacancies.

Eventually, with nowhere left to go, their carriage came to a halt on the road.

“My lord, what should we do?” Didos asked cautiously. “Should we consider an inn in the Outer District...?”

Myle, his face taut with frustration, hesitated.

Just then, Keter, who had been leaning against the carriage window, spoke up, “Nowhere to go? Then let’s go there.”

Everyone turned toward where he was pointing.

“T-there?”

“Do you even know where you're pointing?”

“Lord Keter, that is... the Lord of the South’s Palace. It is not a hotel.”

Indeed, Keter was pointing at the palace, the grandest structure in the Central District.

“If you don’t want to come, I’ll go alone.”

Keter reached for the carriage door, but Myle grabbed his arm.

“Keter. I know this is absurd, but... do you know the Lord of the South?”

“Nope.”

“Then do you know anyone in the palace?”

“Not a chance.”

“Then why, exactly, are you suggesting we go to the lord’s palace?”

“Because this whole situation is bullshit.”

“...?!”

“Disrespecting Sefira is disrespecting me. Insulting Sefira is insulting me. And I don’t tolerate that.”

“I understand how you feel, but what does that have to do with the palace?”

“It’s simple. Our enemies didn’t tell the lord to refuse us. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Of course not. No one has ever stayed at the lord’s palace. Not us, not any other noble family.”

Snap.

Keter flicked his fingers.

“Even better. Sefira will be the first noble family to reside in the lord’s palace. And all the traps they’ve set for us? Worthless. Completely pointless, like dogs chasing goblins off a cliff. Ha!”

Anis, unable to hold back any longer, interjected, “That would be ideal, sure. But how exactly do you plan to get into a palace that no one has ever entered as a guest?”

Keter's response was shockingly simple.

“Because I’m here.”

“...”

Everyone stared at him, silenced by his unfounded confidence.

With a serious look on his face, Myle said, “Keter, even if I try to stop you, you’ll go to the palace alone, won’t you?”

“Correct.”

“If you fail to get in, I’ll be seen as an irresponsible fool who let you do as you pleased. But if you succeed, I’ll be the idiot who didn’t trust you... Sir Didos.”

“Yes?”

“We’re heading to the lord’s palace.”

“...!”

“But Myle! If we’re turned away at the palace gates, Sefira’s honor will be...”

Anis tried to stop Myle, but he was adamant.

“Anis. Sefira’s honor is already in the dirt. It can’t fall any lower. More importantly, if Keter hadn’t spoken up, my only option would have been to take us to an inn. I never would have dared to suggest going to the palace. Tell me, Anis, do you have a better idea? One that keeps us from playing into our enemies’ hands?”

“...No, I don’t.”

“Then we follow Keter’s plan. Not because he’s Keter, but because he’s the only one who offered a plan at all. If any of you have a better idea, speak now—I’ll listen.”

Myle turned his gaze to Taragon, Katherine, and Didos, waiting for a response.

Taragon opened his mouth as if to say something but, seeing the others remain silent, he shut it again.

“If no one objects, we proceed with Keter’s plan. Sir Didos, take us to the palace.”

With unanimous agreement, the carriage turned toward the lord’s palace.

* * *

Keter hadn’t suggested going to the palace because he had some grand plan; it was for fun. In this situation, this was the most entertaining option.

No one had ever entered the Lord of the West’s palace as a guest, but Sefira, the family everyone dismissed and scorned, became the first to set foot inside as a visitor? Now that was cool.

In his past life, Keter had seen Eslow before. He was also known as the Weaponmaster, and he was truly a genius of all weaponry.

And he’s incredibly greedy... especially when it comes to high-quality weapons.

Every weapon Eslow used was either an artifact or a level-five magic tool, nearly on par with one. It was strange—even as one of the Four Lords, acquiring that many powerful artifacts should have been impossible. Still, it meant that if a deal could be made, artifacts would be the currency.

As luck would have it, Sefira had artifacts that weren’t in use: Agarenth, the super-heavy bow, and Tempest, the bow of the wind. Both were rare bow artifacts—weapons that might pique Eslow’s interest, but...

But surely, other noble families have already tried something similar?

Artifacts were valuable family heirlooms, but they were not worth more than a lord’s favor. As such, nobles had already attempted to win Eslow’s goodwill by offering artifacts. And yet, none had ever been accepted as a guest, which meant that offering artifacts was useless. The same logic applied to treasures of any kind.

After all, Eslow was one of the Four Lords—a pillar of this nation. If he wanted something, he had the means to acquire it himself. Deals only worked when the other party desired something they couldn’t obtain on their own. So what could Eslow, the undefeated lord, desire but be unable to attain?

Keter began sorting through his memories, searching for something only he could offer, something that connected to Eslow.

Then...

“If you ever leave Liqueur, seek out Eslow.”

That was Keter’s connection to Eslow. It was a memory of Franken, the chimeric mage and Keter’s former medical mentor.

Back then, Franken had said, “Eslow has a son. He was born with Extreme Mana Overload Syndrome. I treated him temporarily before I came here, but in about ten years, the disease will return. I’ll go treat him myself once I’m done in Liqueur. But if you leave this place before I do... tell Eslow my name and take my place.”

Extreme Mana Overload Syndrome was a condition where one’s body absorbed too much mana due to an unnaturally high affinity to the point that the body failed to regulate it and eventually collapsed.

Franken had taught Keter how to treat it, but in his past life, Keter had never used that knowledge. Back then, he had been fighting against the queen, which meant he had been fighting all Four Lords, including Eslow; he didn’t have the luxury to. Besides, even if he had treated Eslow’s son, there was no guarantee it would have made Eslow his ally.

But now, the situation was different. Eslow did not see Keter as an enemy. Keter had no idea how much Eslow cared for his son, but one thing was certain: only two people in this world could cure Extreme Mana Overload Syndrome—Franken and himself.

Keter reached into his coat and pulled out a business card. On the back, he wrote Franken’s full name in his unmistakable handwriting.

—Sinclair Frankenstein Wentworth.

If Franken had treated Eslow’s son, that meant Eslow knew him personally, meaning that he would recognize this handwriting.

“We’ve arrived, my lord,” said Didos as the carriage slowed.

“Keter,” Myle called.

He looked uneasy—his hands were off his book, something rare for him. It was understandable, as even Keter wasn’t one hundred percent sure this would work. But he was certain that this was the best option they had. And because of that, he wasn’t worried. Success wasn’t what mattered. The attempt itself was important.

Keter stepped out of the carriage first. Since he was the one who suggested this, he would do the talking.

Immediately, knights guarding the palace surrounded the palace. The Galaxy Knights, who had escorted the carriage, remained calm in their positions. A knight in black armor, distinct from the others in gray, stepped forward. It was likely that he was the captain.

“What brings Sefira to seek an audience with the Lord?”

Keter handed him the business card.

“Deliver this to the lord.”

“...And who are you?”

Hah. So no one knows my face yet? Should I praise Sefira for keeping my existence hidden, or should I be offended at how little the outside world thinks of me?

Before he could answer, Didos spoke, “This is Lord Keter El Sefira, the sixth son of Sefira.”

“Keter El Sefira. My apologies, but I have never heard that name before. I understand you wish to introduce yourself to the lord, but I cannot permit it.”

Keter sighed.

“I’m not here just to introduce myself. This is what I came to deliver.”

When Keter flipped the card over, revealing Franken’s name, the knight frowned.

It was natural he couldn’t read it; Franken’s handwriting was practically illegible, closer to ancient runes than human script.

“What does this say?”

“That’s not for you to know. And you’re better off not knowing. All that matters is that once the lord sees it, he will treat me as an honored guest.”

“...!”

The knight’s eyes widened at those words.

An honored guest?

He squinted at the card again, as if hoping to decipher it.

“May I examine it more closely? Regardless of the message, I must verify that the card itself holds no hidden dangers.”

“Go ahead.”

Keter flicked the card into the air. The knight caught it smoothly.

“Hmm.”

He poured aura into his eyes, scanning the card. There was nothing special about it; it was just a sturdy business card.

“There are no irregularities... but Lord Keter, are you absolutely certain this message is of great importance to the lord?”

“What’s for certain is that if the lord knows you left me standing out here, he will have your head ten times—one for every minute you made me stand outside.”

“You’re extremely confident.”

“You think I’m bluffing? Get going already.”

“Hm... Since you say it is that important, I will go. But if this turns out to be a lie...”

The knight rested his hand on his sword hilt.

“You will not leave here alive.”

* * *

Back in the carriage, Anis exploded in anger.

“You reckless idiot! How could you drag the lord into this?! They weren’t joking about killing us if this is a trick!”

Even Myle, who usually kept his composure, looked pale. They could no longer brush this off as a minor misunderstanding. They had no choice but to stake their lives on this gamble.

“You’re spitting on me.”

Anis backed down, but he still looked furious.

“If you were going to do something this insane, you could have at least warned us!”

“Would you have believed me if I did? No. You’d have thrown a fit telling me not to do it!”

“That’s...”

“Stop being such a chicken. If you die, you die. Why do you want to live so much?”

“You’re the only person who thinks that.”

“Then you better get used to it. And quit whining.”

“... Myle, what if Keter’s business card doesn’t work?” Anis asked, ignoring Keter.

With a heavy face, Myle murmured, “It would be best not to resist. If they intend to kill us, it would be better to surrender and die quietly. That is the only way to avoid bringing harm to Sefira.”

Everyone's faces darkened at the grim statement that they should accept death without even attempting to fight back. Only Katherine seemed to believe in Keter.

Keter ran his hand through his hair and grumbled, “Why does everyone see me this way? If I drove this carriage into a river of lava, you all should be cheering, not screaming.”

“I’d rather dive into lava than insult the lord.”

Anis instinctively distanced himself from Keter—though given that they were inside a carriage, it didn’t accomplish much.

At that moment, Didos’ voice came from outside, tense with uncertainty.

“Lord Myle, the knight who took the card has returned.”

A heavy silence fell over the carriage. Myle swallowed hard.

“How does he look? Does he look eager to kill us?”

“He doesn’t seem angry, but he does have a very strange look on his face.”

“Is he just keeping a neutral expression so we don’t resist?”

“He’s right outside now, my lord. I will take my leave."

Didos stepped away. Moments later, a knight in black armor approached the carriage.

“Forgive my lack of introduction earlier. I am Jeffrey Edmund, captain of the Twenty-Second Division of the Order of the Immortal Knights.”

Hearing his name, Targon licked his dry lips.

“So they’re telling us whose hands we’ll die by, is that it...?”

“I don’t care what anyone says—dying without a fight is not an option. A knight should die in battle, not on their knees.”

As Anis gripped his bow, readying an arrow, Jeffrey suddenly knelt on one knee.

“I beg forgiveness for failing to recognize an honored guest. Please, allow me to escort you inside immediately. Lord Eslow is awaiting you in the Office of Swords.”