At this moment, this veteran Emperor's Blade—who had weathered countless storms and witnessed innumerable evil gods and aberrations—knelt before Fyodor. The Emperor's words pierced his heart like a literal blade.
At all times, the Emperor's Blades were beings who pledged fealty to the Emperor of Ursus, the sharpest weapons in the sovereign's hand. This was the oath they took upon joining, and it was the vow for which many veteran Blades had fought their entire lives.
But now, while this honor rested in his hands, traitors had appeared, and a rift had even formed between them and the Emperor...
He dared not imagine what those veterans and old Blades currently fighting the Collapsals on the northern tundra would think if they knew of this. He didn't know what actions they would take, but it certainly wouldn't be anything good. The name of the Emperor's Blades must not be tarnished by his mistakes; he had to regain the Emperor's trust before the final reckoning. This was the most critical problem he faced!
"I do not doubt your loyalty, whether it be those of you within the heart of the nation or those veterans stationed at the frontiers. If this sharp blade in my hand were truly snatched away by another one day, it would only prove my own incompetence."
Fyodor stood up. As he spoke, he walked to Twenty-Nine's side, leaning down to personally help the kneeling man up. When Twenty-Nine looked into the Emperor's eyes, the emotion reflected there was indeed trust.
"The fact that a few Blades are cooperating with the War Faction does not mean you all have betrayed me. I would not blame the edge for being too sharp simply because I accidentally cut my hand on my own blade."
Fyodor paced the room as he spoke. Twenty-Nine could only listen in silence, his mind racing to figure out how to resolve this crisis.
"I can understand why such a situation would arise within the Emperor's Blades. The country has faced many simultaneous troubles in recent years, and it is understandable that the loyalty of the greenhorns recruited during internal emergencies might be questionable. As long as you, the crossguard, do not fail, it is enough."
While speaking, the Emperor cast his gaze upon Twenty-Nine. That sharp look implied that he was the guard of this sword—the entity that protected the Emperor's hand from being cut by the blade itself. As long as he was not held by someone else, there was still a chance for things to turn around. It was merely a few recruits consorting with the opposition; such matters would not shake his overall trust in the Emperor's Blades.
These words were undoubtedly meant to soothe Twenty-Nine's anxious heart, while simultaneously hinting that he should quietly and efficiently eliminate the traitors. If he could achieve that, past mistakes would be wiped clean.
"Please rest assured, Your Majesty. I will clean up every traitor involved in this matter. The Emperor's Blades will forever be the sharpest weapon in your hand; no one else has the right to lay a finger on us!"
"Go then."
Hearing this, Fyodor waved his hand, dismissing him to deal with the rebellious Blades as quickly as possible. This matter was even more important than the upcoming meeting.
After bowing solemnly to Fyodor, Twenty-Nine prepared to leave. He had many things to handle and no reason to linger.
"Ah, one more thing. Regarding the traitors, you can seek out Duke Kashchey. He should have some insider information. Those people couldn't possibly keep secrets from an ally to the point where they know nothing at all."
As Twenty-Nine was leaving, the Emperor's voice came from behind him. He bowed to the Emperor once more, then vanished from the bedchamber like a ghost.
After leaving the chamber, Twenty-Nine's body was gradually enveloped in a black mist. He did not realize that, in his agitation, he had allowed the power of the Collapsals to wrap around his entire being. He was one of the members of the Emperor's Blades who had completely fused with the essence of the Collapsals. Because he was in Deity Grypherburg, he usually suppressed his power with great care, but today, this veteran had lost his restraint.
His rage had reached a breaking point. He was trying his hardest to suppress the fire in his heart, constantly telling himself to stay calm and not lose control. Looking back, he felt a surge of fear; if this incident hadn't happened and he had discovered the state of the Blades even later, would the Emperor have formed a completely new force to purge them?
He didn't know. He only knew that if his negligence caused a rift between the Emperor and the Emperor's Blades, he would have no face to show the veterans still slaughtering Collapsals on the border, nor could he answer to his former comrades-in-arms.
As he sped away, Fyodor stood by the window in the Summer Palace, watching his retreating back thoughtfully. The other man's attitude just now had slightly eased the worry and suspicion in his heart. At a time like this, he truly didn't want any more complications, especially regarding his most important trump card.
When he had accidentally discovered signs of betrayal within the Emperor's Blades, he had secretly wished he could kill them all and raise a new army of his own. But he had suppressed that thought in the next heartbeat. It was as he had surmised: those collaborating with the War Faction were only the new recruits who had joined in recent years. To this day, he had found no evidence of any veterans harboring rebellious intent.
These recruits had joined during his father's final days, before he himself took the throne. They hadn't managed to earn any military merit, so they hungered for war to gain status. Coincidentally, the Collapsals in the frozen tundra seemed to have sensed his father's death; they had awakened in droves, and the resulting riot had not ceased to this day.
He had been forced to send his fully controlled Second Army and all the veteran Emperor's Blades from Deity Grypherburg to the border to assist in the fight. This absence of veteran leadership had caused the power of the new Blades to swell, making them forget themselves.
Therefore, he had to find a way to recall a portion of the combat armies and the Blades. If the upcoming meeting went smoothly, this wouldn't be too difficult.
His heart was also somewhat anxious; he didn't know if what he was doing was truly correct. This was a domain he had never touched before; no one knew how a being such as a "God" would view them. Everything could only be inferred through the actions of that Saintess. Since she was the one chosen by the deity, her actions—even if not the God's direct thoughts—were practices the God approved of...
Thinking of this, Fyodor could only heave a long sigh. He now only hoped that the meeting would arrive quickly so that his side could respond to whatever might happen next.
However, unlike the oppressive atmosphere here, Jeanne and her group on the other side were quite busy. The three of them were currently occupied in Chernobog... with "sweeping away evil and crushing crime."