Vallen Casuss.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grounds of the academy. Vallen uniform, slightly wrinkled and a little too casual for someone of his rank.

"Why am I doing this again?" He muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance.

Outside, a black carriage awaited him, sleek and regal, a stark contrast to Vallen's current demeanor. The driver, an elderly man who had seen too much to be impressed by anything anymore, tipped his hat with the barest hint of acknowledgment.

Vallen sighed, adjusted his sword belt, and stepped into the carriage. The leather seats groaned under his weight as he leaned back, staring up at the ornate ceiling. "Just a quick duel and go back to my nap." He thought.

As the carriage began its journey, Vallen watched the scenery roll by. The lush green forests and the distant peaks of the mountains would have been breathtaking to anyone else. He could feel the gentle rocking of the carriage, lulling him into a sense of detachment from reality.

Before long, the towering gates of Count Heimfell's estate came into view. Vallen's eyes drifted over the grand mansion beyond, its pristine white stone glowing in the afternoon sun. Elegant marble statues adorned the courtyard, and manicured gardens stretched out like a sea of perfection. It was the kind of place nobles loved to flaunt, a reminder of their power and wealth.

The carriage came to a halt, and Vallen didn't move immediately. He stared out at the mansion, blinking lazily as if trying to wake himself up from a dream. Outside, a group of guards had already gathered, watching his every move with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. Their polished armor gleamed, and their sharp eyes tracked him as though he were nothing more than an unwelcome pest.

His boots hit the gravel path with a crunch, but he barely glanced at the soldiers. 

A tall, impeccably dressed butler approached him. The man's face was a perfect mask of professionalism, but even he couldn't entirely hide the faint sneer playing at the edges of his lips.

"You came from the duel, I presume?" the butler asked, his voice smooth but clipped.

"Yeah, that's me," Vallen replied, scratching his chin.

The butler gestured for Vallen to follow. Together, they walked through the grand hallways of the estate, their footsteps echoing against the marble floors.

Eventually, they reached the garden, a sprawling expanse of vibrant flowers, trimmed hedges, and marble fountains. At the center stood a large open area, perfect for a duel. Count Heimfell and his wife were seated nearby on an elevated platform, their eyes fixed on Vallen as he approached.

The eldest son, Bernadt, stood in the middle of the garden, clad in gleaming silver armor. His presence was commanding, his hand resting on the hilt of a finely crafted sword. His face was hard, anger burning behind his cold eyes as he stared down Vallen with an intensity that would have rattled any other opponent.

But Vallen simply looked bored and surprised that the boy was nowhere.

Bernadt's voice rang out like a challenge. "You disrespected my family, and my little brother. Now, stand before me and die!"

Vallen sighed, rolling his eyes. "Nobles should introduce themselves first," He replied, his tone casual, almost disinterested.

Bernadt scoffed, the sound dripping with contempt. "You are worthless to know my name."

From the platform, the Count and his wife chuckled quietly. To them, this was just another chance to assert their dominance over someone they believed to be beneath them.

Vallen reached for Dracon sword which in contrast to Bernadt sword, wasn't anything flashy, just a plain, well-worn weapon that had seen more battles than Bernadt could imagine. 

"My name is Vallen Casuss." He said, his voice calm.

The color drained from Bernadt's face, his confidence that he had seconds ago disappeared, collapsing into fear. His hands shook as his knees buckled beneath him, and before anyone could react, he dropped to the ground, his head bowed, staring at the ground.

Count Heimfell stood abruptly, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, his voice cracking.

There was no battle. No clash of swords. Bernadt had yielded without even a fight. 

The reason was clear, at least to Bernadt. He knew exactly who stood before him.

"What are you doing Bernadt?! Kill him." Shouted Count Heimfell to the guard's. 

"Stop it." Shouted Bernadt who changed his posture correctly kneeling before Vallen. "His Excellency, Vallen Casuss. Commander of the Fourth Order of the Imperial Knights, appointed by none other than the Emperor of the Imperium, Arkon Valerianos Gaius."

Absolute silence followed Bernadt's words as the guards, who had just moments ago wanted to kill him, knelt down. Count Heimfell and his family stood there, stunned by what their son had just said.

The man whose name was whispered among soldiers and nobles, the commander who had won battles against impossible odds. The man who saved the Imperium from losing its eastern region, and the man who dared to reject the emperor's daughter's hand.

"Your Excellency," Bernadt continued, his voice steady but filled with a newfound respect, "I was a fool to challenge you. Please, forgive my ignorance."

Vallen, still holding his sword casually by his side, sighed. He certainly hadn't come for the theatrics of nobles kneeling before him. He found it all tiresome.

Count Heimfell snapped out of his daze, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. The tension in the air was thick, and it was clear that the Count was weighing his options. 

"I… I did not know," Count Heimfell began, his voice shaking slightly as he tried to regain control of the situation.

Vallen raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?" he repeated, almost incredulously. "Your youngest son almost struck my pupil even though she forfeited the duel, Count."

The Count bristled at the remark, but before he could respond, Bernadt spoke again, his head still bowed. "I swore to my family name that I will teach him manners."

Vallen, sensing that his business here was done, sheathed his sword with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. "Good," he said simply. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do" He was furious, Bernadt's head was worth more than 10 Levels.

With that, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, when Bernadt spoke again.

"Please have tea with us, you came a long way."

Vallen turned around to say no, but then he noticed the cigar that Count Heimfell had in his hand. It was a rare and expensive one, rolled from the finest tobacco leaves.

"I accept your invitation, but only if I can have a Laren cigar." 

"Of course you can." Said the Count .

Vallen casually extended his hand to Bernadt, who was still kneeling on the ground. With a single, effortless pull, he lifted the man to his feet. Bernadt's face remained stiff, but the respect in his eyes was unmistakable. As for Vallen, there was no trace of tension on his face, his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere, specifically, to the cigar he now craved more than ever.

The Count, his face flushed with the embarrassment of earlier events, stepped forward with a forced smile, inviting Vallen inside the grand mansion.

Vallen followed, his eyes sweeping across the estate's opulence. He marveled, though silently, at the extravagance that surrounded him. Expensive paintings lined the walls, their ornate golden frames shimmering in the warm light. Every surface seemed to glisten with gold or silver accents. Marble floors reflected the painted ceiling, and chandeliers dripped with crystal like frozen rain.

He was led to a lavishly set table near a large window. As he took his seat, his gaze drifted outside to the vast garden, where vibrant flowers bloomed in a riot of color. The sight was serene, roses of deep crimson, sunflowers that swayed gently in the breeze, and violets that painted the garden's edge in soft purples. A fountain trickled in the distance, its sound calming, and birds flitted between branches of manicured trees. It was a peaceful scene, one of quiet beauty.

The mood inside had also shifted dramatically. The Count and his family, who had earlier been cold and tense, were now all smiles. The Count himself sat at the head of the table, his earlier anger forgotten, replaced by a sense of forced warmth. His wife and Bernadt, too, had adopted an air of polite hospitality, eager to erase the tension from earlier.

"Please enjoy it." The Count said, his voice smooth now, giving Vallen the cigar.

Vallen was childishly smug as he lit his cigar, though externally he still wore his usual bored and lifeless expression. This moment of joy was interrupted by Bernadt, who spoke up with a questioning tone.

"You're a true legend among knights and practically the entire army," He said with a powerful smile, clearly seeing Vallen as his idol.

"That was quite a long time ago, I'm no longer a knight," Vallen replied, and as if by some divine intervention, his identification card fell from his pocket, which Count Heimfell hurriedly picked up.

His eyes widened when he saw the Emperor's signature. "You… You're the Emperor's General?"

"Yes," Vallen answered nonchalantly, as if it were a trivial matter.

Immediately, the others at the table knelt before him, bowing deeply as if they were in the presence of the Emperor himself. Even Vallen was surprised by their actions, wondering what they were doing now.

The Emperor General had the authority to deploy forces, alter troop assignments, and negotiate treaties. Their influence was felt throughout the empire, as their decisions could sway the tides of both war and peace.

Vallen let out a heavy sigh, "Stand up" he muttered, still feeling uncomfortable. He flicked the cigar to his lips, taking a long drag to regain his composure.

Count Heimfell finally spoke up as he sat back in his chair. "General Vallen, your presence here today honors us. We are grateful for your time and wish to discuss a matter of great importance." His voice was steady, though his eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Vallen shifted his gaze to the Count, intrigued despite himself. "What is it?"

"The tension is growing everyday between the us and the Republic, they massacre the people at the western border." 

"This matter is in the hands of the current leaders of the army. I'm still a student at the academy," Vallen said, though the Count's words caught his attention.

"May I ask you something, General?" the Count's wife, a curious look in her eyes. Vallen nodded in response.

"I don't quite understand. How can you be a student while holding such a high rank? If I'm not mistaken, only the workers can achieve those positions. I would have assumed you would be more involved in politics or standing beside the Emperor."

"Well, what you said is correct, but I'm actually both a student and a worker," Vallen explained, taking a puff from his cigar. "I'm currently the head of the Investigation Office, which is a cadet-led institute. At the same time, I serve as a mentor to those under my guidance." He exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching it swirl in the air. "The reason I'm not in the capital is that the Emperor promised to let me live my life as I wish. However, if something big were to happen I would be called upon."

The only thing that struck them during Vallen's explanation was the promise he had received from the Emperor. It was astonishing for them to hear the iron-fisted Emperor who would instantly vanish an entire noble house for a single misstep. Not only had he allowed Vallen to decline his daughter's hand, but he had also made a promise to him.

"General can I ask about something that I noticed?" 

Vallen was completely exhausted, he hadn't talked to anyone this much, especially not strangers, for months, but he nodded.

"When you drew your sword, I couldn't help but notice that your hand was trembling."

"Tell me Bernadt, how many battles have you seen?"

"I have seen one battle" He said while Vallen stood up, giving his sword to the Count wife who looked confused.

"If I may ask, can you unleash it?" Asked which she did it without asking back.

She grabbed with with two hands expecting it to be a heavy sword , but it was light like it was nothing.

"I have never in my life held this light of a sword, what material was it made of?" She asked, swinging it.

"It's nothing special, please Count, would you hold it to?" 

The Count grabbed it from her wife's hand.

"Unbelievably, it's lighter than what the Imperium's best blacksmith could forge."

"Now feel it Bernadt" Said Vallen exactly knew what was going to happen.

When he grabbed the sword, it pulled him straight down to the ground. His hand trembled, and suddenly he started vomiting, until Vallen took it from him.

"What…what was that…" He stood up with the help of his parents.

"This is due to a Skill used by the Republic during the Jakarta War. With this Skill, they placed a curse upon their own soldiers. As a result, if you slayed their soldiers, your sword would absorb their souls, driving the wielder completely insane. The reasons why, your parents can wield it like it is nothing, because their soul is pure. Which quite surprised me." Vallen sitted back.

"So this sword isn't yours? I mean, the Jakarta War was over ten years ago." Asked Bernadt.

"Yeah, it belongs to a man who was the leader of the Imperial Calvary."

Bernadt nodded, absorbing Vallen's words. "But if it belonged to the leader of the Imperial Cavalry, why does it now rest in the hands of you?

Vallen chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the room. "Well, I can"t use my own sword, so lend it to me."

"It just says how powerful you are. you wield it as if it were a mere trinket." Bernadt said with a chuckle.

"The weight of such a weapon is not in its physicality but in the memories and souls it carries. I've learned to separate myself from its burden. But not everyone can do that."

They shared a moment of understanding, the gravity of their conversation settling between them. Bernadt nodded, absorbing Vallen's wisdom.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, General." As Bernadt said it Vallen stood up indicating his leave."

The family escorted him all the way to the carriage, bidding farewell to Vallen, who was himself surprised by how pleasant their conversation had been, but also worn out and furious, he wanted Bernadt's head and the 10 Levels.