The Emperor was spending less and less time in the Imperial Capital.

A massive villa sat by a lake on a scenic mountainside. As the Emperor’s temporary palace, its defenses were inadequate, but it was perfectly suitable as a place for a patient to recuperate, with hot springs everywhere steaming into a beautiful, thin mist.

The master of the Empire was "on vacation." The fate of the vast domain rested on this one man; he couldn’t be sick, merely "unwell."

"How is my father?" The Prince had been pacing in the main hall, his anger and anxiety finding no outlet, until the Prime Minister emerged from a side hall. The Emperor was very weak and needed rest, so the Prime Minister and the doctor had shared the audience time with him.

"Your father’s mind is clear, and his will is firm. He endured the pain while the doctor treated him."

"Quacks! Quacks who have us trapped here!" The Prince had a defect in his left arm—an intolerable problem for the Imperial Family of a martial nation. The more he tried to exercise and treat it, the deeper the humiliation and pain he suffered for this arm, which gave him an unspeakable enmity toward doctors.

Ever since the Emperor had been bedridden at the resort, the Prince’s hostility had grown daily. "Hah! Those Mages are just laughing at us! They claim they’re powerless, yet when they’re boasting about themselves, they want everyone to believe they’re omnipotent. And the Order Church—damned, faithless charlatans!"

The Imperial Family had secretly contacted the Order Church, hoping a Divine Benefactor could attempt to use a Healing Divine Art for the Emperor. The negotiations went smoothly, but then a Bishop suddenly informed the Imperial Family of some unfortunate news: a great upheaval had occurred within the Church, and they could no longer provide treatment for the Emperor.

"We are deeply regretful. This is by no means due to any worldly considerations; we ourselves have suffered an irreversible disaster." The Bishop left this remark and departed by carriage, and afterward, the Order Church ignored all requests from the Imperial Family.

Prime Minister Otto frowned. "According to our intelligence, both the Church and Valois have undergone significant upheavals."

"Isn’t this our chance?" The Prince’s eyes lit up instantly. "My father and our army are both prepared. The time has come! The Empire needs more land under the sun!"

The Prime Minister was somewhat worried. He felt this prince was a bit too impatient. The drive of youth was, of course, a good thing, but if the Prince took power, the entire Empire would have to bear the consequences of any negative outcomes caused by his impulsiveness.

And given the Emperor’s current state, his heir was likely not far from ascension.

"You are right, the army is prepared, but it is *only* the army. We must continue to stabilize our relationship with Istani to prevent its interference from affecting the Empire’s strategy. Furthermore, grain yields have fallen for two consecutive years. We need more preparations... Beyond a grain embargo, we must also sign more treaties with the Istani Kingdom."

Counterintuitively, Otto, who was known as the "Iron and Blood Prime Minister," was the moderate in the Empire. He leveraged the fearsome reputation earned by the Marlin Kingdom, not only playing the states within the Empire against each other to subdue them but also pursuing a foreign policy of "befriending distant states while attacking nearby ones." He was willing to foster good relations with any nation outside the Holy Kingdom.

One of his principles was to use minimal military action to gain maximum benefit for the Empire, while also curbing the military from gaining excessive autonomy.

"Our production has decreased, but is the Holy Kingdom any better off? As far as I know, Valois is even experiencing a food shortage. That must be the main reason for the riots in their Royal Capital."

The Prince impatiently cut the old man off. He used to deeply respect the Prime Minister, who was like a grandfather to him, but now he felt the man before him had grown old—timid, hesitant, and resolute only in guarding his own power. After all, other ministers of the Empire had to report to the Prime Minister before they could have an audience with the Emperor.

’Absurd!’

The Prime Minister was unaware of the Prince’s intense dissatisfaction with him. He was as patient as he would be with his own grandson. "Yes, the public’s bottom line is food. However, reports indicate other factors are at play. Rumors involve the Order Church and the Magic Guild."

The Prince’s interest was piqued. "The Magic Guild made a move?"

Otto shook his head. "Apologies, Your Highness, we need more information to make a judgment. A growing amount of intelligence is being compiled and analyzed."

"Good, good. Besides my father’s condition, I also want to know what those charlatans and Mages are up to!"

"As you wish, Your Highness."

...

Mechanical Director Sibins was at his wit’s end. After peaking, the Cult Group’s activities had seen a significant decline, and it seemed the Empire had entered a period of peace and stability.

Then the Holy Kingdom went and made some huge headlines.

At first, the news came from the embassy. Sibins didn’t care about things like the "Third Level Estate Assembly" or "taxes." His job was to guard against threats to the Empire from Extraordinary Powers. But after one particular night, the news coming from Valuvana grew more and more explosive.

’A large-scale Cult Group ritual?’

’An Angel?’

’The populace stormed the Bastie?’

Even if the Mechanical Director used all the imagination contained within his bald head, he couldn’t connect all these elements. Even after Rorschach’s report was delivered, Sibins still didn’t dare to fully accept the bizarre story the young Mage had given him.

’An Angel... can the Empire’s Military Mages eliminate it?’

Rorschach didn’t say what role he played in the battle against Archangel Seraph. He only wrote: "Archangel Seraph was burdened with an incalculable amount of Mother Earth’s corruption and was ultimately repelled after a large-scale magical attack led by the Magic Guild."

He also wrote about how rumors of "Cultists colluding with the Nobility" had caused the Third Level to take up arms.

"Sir, it’s time." A member of his agency reminded Sibins that the airship was about to depart.

With the Emperor away from the Imperial Capital recuperating, Sibins hadn’t had an audience with His Majesty in over three months. Now that the Prime Minister had also gone to the resort, and with such a major upheaval in the Holy Kingdom, Sibins had no choice but to follow the "brains" of the Empire.

He gathered up Rorschach’s last report from before he left the Kingdom, stuffing it into a document bag to take with him. They used a private channel exclusive to the Empire’s authorities, so no unauthorized personnel would notice the agency staff boarding the airship.

This airship was relatively small, running on a special route established for other ministers of the Empire to have an audience with the Emperor.

The roar of engines echoed from the airfield as they warmed up. Sibins could see other Imperial officials undergoing layers of security checks before boarding the special flight.

The Mechanical Director suddenly felt something was wrong.

"Are there any other airships going to the resort?"

"There’s a regular flight in half an hour. It’s mostly empty."

Sibins changed their plans on the spot. "We’re not taking this one. We’ll take the regular flight."

"But the connecting carriage on the other side is scheduled..."

"As long as it doesn’t delay our audience with His Majesty, it’s not a problem." The Mechanical Director had great faith in his intuition.

Though he couldn’t say what was wrong, he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Sibins had survived this long in large part thanks to trusting his intuition.

The subordinate shrugged, accepting the Mechanical Director’s sudden change of mind. Another agent, however, understood his superior’s concern. "Is there a problem with this airship? Should we search it?"

"...Let’s go first."

Half an hour after the first airship took off, the second one—the regular flight—followed, their routes following the same straight line.

In the skies over the Empire, both airships exploded violently, one after the other. There were no survivors.