Natamus mounted his horse with a dark look on his face. The powerfully built general rode a carefully chosen, well-bred warhorse. Even its hooves were a size larger than those of an ordinary warhorse. Its coat was the color of the purest yellow desert sand, without a single stray-colored hair, and shone like satin in the sunlight.
He gave its flanks a light squeeze. The horse, which had been with him for a long time, began to walk. Its broad hooves rang sharply against the blue-gray stone paving. Several cavalrymen hurried after him, raising the general's ceremonial standards and shouting for people to clear the way.
The commoners, nobles, and merchants protesting loudly in the square scrambled aside when they saw the imposing general riding toward them. A moment ago, their furious outcry had seemed ready to tear down the sky.
Yet when they actually saw a relative of the man they blamed, they were like mice facing a cat, desperate to hide their heads in the crowd... Natamus was looking around with a dark gaze, his fingers trembling slightly. If anyone dared provoke him now, who knew whether he might cut them down in the street?
When Natamus sighed in disappointment and urged his horse onward, everyone realized that this was exactly what he had intended... It was just that no one had been stupid enough to offer himself up today, so the heavy sword at his waist had drawn no blood.
He continued along the smooth, blue-gray flagstone road. The streets on either side were broad enough for three carriages to travel abreast. These busy streets were strangely quiet now. Almost a third of the city's entire population had gathered in that square, while everyone else was busy discussing the unexpected defeat.
The people of this country were unlike those of any other. They were deeply interested in national affairs, such as politics and war. Though they had no part in deciding them, they discussed them with great enthusiasm.
Some would even neglect their businesses over it, shutting their shops and rushing to the square to argue with others... Everyone felt a distinct sense of responsibility and never tired of these discussions.
In a large enough crowd, they would even dare openly oppose the emperor in broad daylight. Even the supreme ruler herself had to handle this frightening wave of public opinion with care.
It was like a double-edged sword. When the people supported the emperor, the whole Empire could unite behind her. Once they began opposing her, however, even the emperor could find herself in danger... This political climate was unique in all the world.
Every emperor of the Empire had taken pride in it and suffered headaches over it. The present emperor had been on the throne for only three years. This unfamiliar experience left her at a loss and full of anger...
Natamus returned to his home in silence. Built of beautiful marble, it did not occupy much land. It was even smaller than the houses some wealthy merchants had bought for themselves in the city center. Once he stepped across the threshold, however, his expression began to ease. He no longer looked as intimidating as he had earlier, like a vicious beast storing up its rage. Even the cavalrymen escorting him had not dared say much.
As soon as he entered the courtyard, he dismissed his guards and walked silently into the rear courtyard alone, drawing the heavy sword at his waist as he went...
It was a frightening weapon. As wide as an adult's palm and a finger thick, its blade tapered toward the tip, but its terrible weight could still easily ruin a person's wrist.
In Natamus's hand, however, it was as light as a feather. It did not slow his arm in the slightest. The blade, four chi long, rested lightly against the flagstones.
His face grew more and more savage. Only when his emotions had reached their peak did his eyes suddenly fly wide. With a furious roar, he swung the heavy sword with all his might, making the air scream. Hardwood cracked sharply as the blade sank deep into a wooden post as thick as a man. Then, with a slight lift of his arm, he tore the hard wood apart. The iron-bound upper section crashed to the ground.
The howl of the air being torn apart sounded like a vicious beast weeping, pouring out its grief without restraint. The swinging sword smashed one wooden post after another to pieces. His hard iron boots kept crushing the thin, blue-gray flagstones underfoot. In the blink of an eye, the neat, well-equipped rear courtyard became a field of wreckage. At the terrifying noise, the servants exchanged looks and hid off to one side, afraid of attracting the general's attention.
The thick blade sank deep into the paving with a heavy thud.
"Put up more!!"
The servants moved at once. They carried fresh wooden posts into the rear courtyard and cleared away the shattered wood. In moments, they had restored most of the courtyard. Only the broken flagstones could not be dealt with yet. Natamus did not care. Right now, he just needed a way to vent his feelings.
He pulled his sword out of the flagstones and charged back in without hesitation...
Only after destroying more than a hundred wooden posts did Natamus feel a little of his anger fade. His worry was growing by the day. He had always had a fiery temper. The only reason he had not yet butchered Arius was that his younger brother would suffer the consequences when he returned.
...
He did not believe his younger brother would die so easily out there, even surrounded by an army more than ten thousand strong. This was not wishful thinking. He simply knew his brother well enough...
He also understood why his brother had been framed and plotted against like this. As the emperor's trusted men, both brothers had long been thorns in those nobles' sides. Even so, he had never expected Arius to be so shameless and vile. To frame his younger brother, the man had actually sacrificed more than a thousand cataphracts along with him!!...
Every one of those soldiers was among the Empire's finest, a precious asset to the state. They had all begun their strict training at the age of twelve. Every one could move freely in a hundred jin of heavy armor. Once in formation, they could easily crush enemies several times their number. Training each man cost the country dearly. Yet that fool's vile selfishness had sent them to their deaths for nothing. The thought hurt Natamus so badly that he could hardly breathe.
All of this burned inside him like fuel, feeding a constant stream of anger. His chest, which had only just begun to settle, started heaving again.
"Bring me more targets. Hurry!!"
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