The banquet proceeded smoothly.
If one were to choose the most beautiful man and woman at the banquet, Princess Clarice and Isaac would undoubtedly be selected. From the moment they arrived, their striking appearances captured everyone's attention.
However, the arrival of the eldest daughter, Adeline, soon overshadowed them, and they naturally faded from the spotlight.
"All those guys are just here to curry favor with my sister, aren't they?"
Clarice smiled as she held a glass in her hand.
The banquet's main purpose was to establish discipline among the nobles—essentially, to strengthen relationships with them. As a result, most of the attention was focused on Princess Adeline.
"I'll just sit here and drink. Isaac, go do what you need to do."
"Then, I'll take my leave."
"But you have to be back in time for the dance, okay?"
Isaac made his way to a secluded corner of the banquet hall.
There, a burly man with a slightly protruding belly was drinking while wearing an ill-fitting formal uniform.
His name was Drian Belfort.
The man who ruled Volten, a lawless land in all but name.
The Baron of Volten exuded the aura of a true warrior. He was the mastermind behind quelling the Volten Revolution, when the underworld factions lurking in Volten's shadows all rose in rebellion at once.
His heavy presence, tinged with raw, untamed energy, was unlike that of ordinary knights. He did not seem like a guest at a lavish banquet but rather a hunting dog restlessly searching for prey.
To put it bluntly, he was a man who did not belong at a royal banquet.
When the baron noticed Isaac approaching, he studied him for a moment before saying,
"Well, at least I can hold a conversation with you."
He smirked, seemingly welcoming Isaac.
There was a sense of camaraderie between men who had risen from common origins to nobility.
"I am Baron Logan."
"I know of you well. I am Baron of Volten—think of me as the kingdom's janitor, cleaning up its filth."
Perhaps attempting humor, Baron Volten chuckled as he handed Isaac a glass of wine.
Isaac accepted it gracefully, took a sip, and smoothly steered the conversation.
"How is Volten these days?"
"Are you planning a trip? Let me make it clear—unless you're looking for drugs or gambling, you'd best stay away."
"But you're governing the region now, aren't you? I've heard it's become livable after the revolution."
"A cesspool is still a cesspool, even if you clean it."
Perhaps displeased by the topic, Baron Volten deliberately took a sip of his wine.
'This man won't be swayed by flattery.'
Realizing this, Isaac decided to take the direct approach.
"Actually, I'm looking for someone in Volten."
"...."
"The family of a close friend. They went missing after the revolution—"
"They're dead."
His tone was firm, his gaze unwavering.
The gray hue of his eyes demanded Isaac not deny the truth.
"Do you know why it's called the Volten Revolution and not a rebellion?"
"…Because the citizens overturned the uprising."
"Precisely. They reclaimed their freedom under the kingdom's protection—that's why it's called a revolution."
There had been both a rebellion and a revolution in Volten.
First came the rebellion, when the criminal underworld seized control of Volten.
Then came the revolution, when Baron Volten led the citizens in reclaiming their city.
Some nobles insisted on calling it a restoration rather than a revolution, as Volten had always belonged to the kingdom.
But in the eyes of most people, it remained the Volten Revolution.
A historic victory—achieved through the collective will of the people, under the kingdom's protection.
The word revolution served to make the event even more dramatic.
"A lot of people died. If they're still missing after all this time, then they are most certainly dead."
"You're quite firm on that."
"I've seen enough death to know."
Baron Volten spoke calmly.
Yet his demeanor suggested he was still sifting through the ruins of buildings, still locked in battle with the rebels.
"Well, if Baron Logan truly wants to search for them, I won't stop you. You should come visit sometime."
He chuckled as he spoke.
At that moment, piercing screams from the maids echoed through the banquet hall.
A pool of blood—a scene unfit for such an event.
And standing at its center, the Faceless Platoon.
Figures made entirely of translucent blue mana, wielding swords and spears of the same ethereal energy, surged into the hall.
They were advancing toward Princess Adeline with unwavering determination.
The guards hurried to respond, but the ambush happened so suddenly that they couldn't mount an effective defense.
"Ah."
At the forefront, a swordsman cloaked in blue afterimages rushed toward Princess Adeline.
Effortlessly cutting down other nobles in his path, he closed the distance in an instant.
The moment his glowing blue sword was about to strike Adeline—
Smack!
A perfectly timed kick struck him, sending his body flying sideways.
Because Isaac was dressed in formal attire as part of the party, he had been able to approach without suspicion.
"Your Highness, are you alright?"
"Baron Logan…!"
Princess Adeline hesitated for a moment as she looked at Isaac standing protectively before her.
"Who are they? Is this some sort of Transcendent spell?"
"…I can't say for certain."
Because he could sense mana from them.
The Transcendent race did not use mana.
The blue afterimage swordsman steadied himself once more,
His intent clear—he would cut down both Isaac and Princess Adeline in a single strike.
Gripping his sword with both hands, he swung downward in a diagonal arc.
In that instant, Isaac's eyes flashed as he swiftly grabbed Princess Adeline and dodged to the side.
"Kyaa?!"
—"Damn it! Son of a bitch!"
The blue afterimage swordsman didn't even consider the possibility that his attack had been read.
He simply assumed they had evaded by sheer luck and cursed in frustration.
'He has consciousness.'
The swordsman prepared to strike again.
Unfortunately for him, attacking a princess of the kingdom twice was already more than enough of a chance given.
"Where do you think you're—?!"
Mana surged through the banquet hall, scattering like a storm.
The figures formed of blue afterimages began to dissolve like mist.
The one responsible for subduing them in mere seconds, of course, was—
"You dare play such petty tricks—?!"
—the Grandmaster, drawing her massive blade.
Her speed was astonishing.
Like a spinning waterwheel, she charged forward, swinging her sword, and in an instant, the enemies were cut down.
The last remaining swordsman didn't even last a single exchange against the Grandmaster before vanishing.
—"Khhaha! Don't be scared!"
Yet, even as he was sliced in two, the phantom knight left behind laughter and mockery.
—"That was fun."
***
A Few Hours Later
The once-luxurious banquet hall was now a wreck, with only a few people remaining.
"The magic they used is called ritual manifestation."
A mage from the Magic Tower surveyed the scene and spoke.
"However, this is an obsolete form of magic. Once magical tools were invented to allow long-distance communication, there was no longer any need for it."
"..."
"It's not only difficult to control, but also requires a complex preparation process. Moreover, it only serves to create a form—it has no mass, so it shouldn't be possible to use it to harm others."
At this, Clarice let out a dry laugh.
"So, to summarize—"
She pointed toward the entrance at the center of the banquet hall.
"There were no signs of intrusion from outside.
And yet, out of nowhere, around twenty soldiers appeared right at the entrance."
A sigh escaped.
How much effort had been put into ensuring the security of tonight's banquet?
The external security had been truly thorough.
However, no one could have predicted that assassins would suddenly appear as if they had fallen from the banquet hall's entrance.
They entered the hall so boldly that it was bewildering.
"And they used an outdated, archaic magic? A spell originally meant for simple communication that isn't even supposed to be capable of harming anyone?"
Claris clutched her throbbing head, her expression growing more complex.
"At this rate, it wouldn't be surprising if those bastards could appear out of nowhere again."
These intruders had ignored all the heavy security and stormed inside as if it were nothing.
Unless the princess was guarded around the clock, the danger was inevitable.
"They won't be able to do it so easily next time. The magic tower's wizards will do their utmost to figure out how they managed to get in." said one of the royal mages.
The mages of the tower were bound by contract to protect the palace.
If they failed to prove their worth here, their position would become difficult, making them all the more determined.
"These people… They're the ones you mentioned, right?"
At Claris's question, the Grandmaster nodded.
"The so-called 'Patrons' who abandoned humanity and sided with the Transcendents… They used this kind of astral projection when they contacted me."
She added that she had never imagined they would use it for terrorism.
Even so, her expression was grim.
"They are like vermin. More than anything, they are obsessed with concealing themselves, making them difficult to track."
Princess Adeline also spoke up.
"They acted as if they were taunting us. As if daring us to find them."
The sneering voice of the man who had mocked them before disappearing still echoed in her ears.
These people had infiltrated the palace as if walking into their own home.
And they had done so without sustaining any harm.
They needed to be found.
But the only trace left behind was the dissipating mana in the air.
As another crisis loomed over the palace and tension thickened—
"If we analyze the position of their hands on the hilt, we can estimate the length of the grip."
Isaac, who had been silently listening, suddenly spoke.
"The blade was about 140 cm long. Even for a longsword, that's quite long. However, their footwork was light and nimble rather than heavy, so if we assume they weren't knights…"
"…Huh?"
Clarice tilted her head in confusion.
Not only her, but the others also stared at Isaac, unsure of what he was getting at.
However, Isaac seemed completely lost in thought, his words spilling out as if he were possessed.
"Their movements were light, and they wielded the sword fluidly. Each strike incorporated feints. Their method of slashing at an angle to apply psychological pressure is characteristic of the South. due to the heat, Southerners tend to wear lighter clothing and practice flashy, dance-like swordplay, sometimes called 'dance swordsmanship.'"
"But for a Southerner, using a longsword is unusual. As far as I know, all noble families in the South that use longswords are knightly houses."
"However, their fighting style wasn't that of a knight. My guess is that they are the second or third sons of a noble family who left to become wandering knights. Wandering knights base their swordplay on their family's style but adapt and evolve it through outside experiences."
"This would also explain why their swordplay, despite being Southern in origin, incorporated excessive feints to the point of seeming crude."
"Meanwhile, among the attackers, I also spotted someone using Caldias-style spear techniques. Northern spear techniques are versatile and well-known, but they wouldn't have spread so easily to the South…"
"..."
"..."
"..."
As everyone stared at him in silence, Isaac finally reached a conclusion and smiled, both refreshed and satisfied.
"We should look into mercenary groups. They consist of people from various backgrounds, and among them, we'll likely find a Southern noble from a longsword-wielding family."
Having listened blankly to the entire explanation, Clarice instinctively clapped her hands.
"When I read that you figured out Blackson was a traitor just from seeing Transcendent swordsmanship in the North… I honestly thought that was nonsense."
"..."
"I'm sorry. It turns out you were right."
After all—
He hadn't been studying swordsmanship through books for nothing.
***
"We should look into mercenary groups. They consist of people from various backgrounds, and among them, we'll likely find a Southern noble from a longsword-wielding family."
"..."
A soft smile that enhanced his already striking features.
A clear, confident voice.
And above all, the knowledge to identify the true culprits from just a few exchanges of swordplay—
Not to mention his martial prowess, being the first to step in and protect her at the scene.
It was no exaggeration to say he was the one who had cut down the era of Helmut and opened a new horizon for the kingdom.
"…Ah."
Something felt strange.
Princess Adeline found that she couldn't tear her gaze away from Baron Logan.
In the end—
Using her younger sister's excited chatter about tracking them down as cover, she quietly whispered to her escort:
"Send word to Baron Logan."
"Tell him… to come see me tonight."