"Understood, General Najenda!"
At last, the green-haired soldier—Lubbock—retreated behind the white-haired woman named Najenda.
Najenda pulled on her reins, gazing into the distance. The towering outer walls of the Imperial Capital loomed before her, their grandeur awe-inspiring. "The Capital has really changed... There used to be no artificial lake here. I heard it was blasted out by that Great General herself... What terrifying power."
Letting out a soft sigh, Najenda shook her head. No point thinking too much about it. "Come on, Lubbock, let's head into the city."
After submitting her arrival report at the luxurious Imperial reception lodge, Najenda and her entourage found themselves with some free time before the Regional Garrison Conference began. They took the opportunity to wander the Capital's bustling districts, taking in its famed splendor.
The Imperial Capital was unlike any city on the frontier—it was a world apart. For the provincial soldiers accompanying Najenda, the sight of endless avenues, glittering towers, and lavish shops was an experience beyond anything they had seen in their lives.
But Najenda's attention wasn't captured by the grandeur. Instead, she watched the people. The expressions of the city's residents were unsettling. She saw no joy, no sense of peace—only unease. Every face wore a mask, every smile false and practiced.
It left her uneasy. In Frankfurt Province, where she had served, the people lived simply. Their lives were hard, yes, but at least they were genuine—human.
"The Capital... no, the entire Empire... what's happened to it?" she murmured under her breath.
Her quiet contemplation didn't last long. Peaceful moments always passed too quickly, and soon enough, the time for the biennial Regional Garrison Conference arrived—marking the beginning of the end of their brief stay in the Capital.
...
Imperial Capital — Imperial Palace Fortress — Imperial Guard Headquarters, Grand Assembly Hall.
Unlike the opulent government halls adorned with gold and glass, the great assembly chamber of the Imperial military was built in a sober, solemn style—its architecture exuding power and gravity. It stood as a symbol of the Empire's authority.
Even standing before its doors evoked an instinctive sense of awe. The very air seemed heavy, commanding respect. Few could step inside without unconsciously straightening their posture.
Upon entering the grand hall, one was greeted by an immense vaulted chamber, its walls lined with murals and reliefs depicting a thousand years of Imperial history—epics of emperors, generals, and legendary battles carved in stone and painted in vivid detail.
It was said that this assembly hall had been personally commissioned by the Empire's first Emperor, who had conceived of it as a monument to immortalize the Empire's glory.
When Selene first learned that, she couldn't help but feel impressed. "The First Emperor truly was the child of destiny," she had mused. "Even back then, he understood how to use history and myth to unify the people's hearts."
Indeed—no tale, no hero, no legend stirred the spirit more than the stories of ancestors who fought and bled to carve out their descendants' homeland. The merging of national history, myth, and ancestral reverence had always been humanity's most powerful unifying force.
Countless legends had been told across the ages—and together, they formed the backbone of human civilization.
...
Each general attending the conference was permitted to bring only one escort into the Imperial Guard Headquarters. Thus, aside from Lubbock, the rest of Najenda's men remained at the inn.
Passing through the majestic corridor under the watchful eyes of Imperial Guards, Najenda stepped for the first time into the beating heart of the Empire's military power.
Inside the great assembly hall, she immediately sensed tension. The chamber was vast, yet divided—its atmosphere anything but harmonious.
The divide was obvious: provincial officers versus capital officers, Honest's faction versus those who opposed him.
Most of the attendees were rough, battle-hardened men—thick-necked, scarred, with the aura of killers. Some bore jagged wounds across their faces, some wore eyepatches, others had expressions so cold they could freeze blood.
Every one of them radiated lethal intent. These were no bureaucrats—they were soldiers, veterans who had earned their ranks through blood and war.
The range of ages was wide. Some were grizzled veterans with silver hair at their temples; others looked barely older than twenty.
And then, as Najenda—a striking white-haired woman—entered the hall, all conversation ceased for a moment. Heads turned. Amid the ranks of gruff old warriors, she was a vivid and unexpected sight—a cool, commanding presence that drew every gaze instantly.
"White hair? Just like the Great General. That makes her the third female general, doesn't it?"
"Wonder if Esdeath will attend... Wait, where is she stationed now?"
"All right, that's enough gossip."
Ignoring the murmurs about her, Najenda simply smiled politely and bowed in greeting to her senior officers. Judging by their uniforms, she carefully took her seat among the provincial defense commanders, quietly waiting for the meeting to begin.
Unlike the sparsely filled and restrained provincial seats, the Imperial Guard's side was packed and boisterous, the legion commanders loudly discussing recent events in the Capital as though they feared no reprisal from Honest himself.
"Did you hear? General Liver from the Western Defense Army's been imprisoned."
"Yeah... I heard. Word is, he was framed for refusing to bribe one of Minister Honest's relatives."
"Hmph, laughable. A loyal Imperial officer, serving faithfully for years—thrown into prison because he wouldn't grease the palms of some pompous inspector Honest sent to the front lines!"
"They charged him with 'embezzling military funds' and 'delaying battle operations.' Ridiculous! The one who delayed the campaign was that inspector, and as for the stolen funds—wasn't it Honest himself?"
Najenda's gaze fell upon the man speaking—a broad-shouldered officer in the iron-gray uniform of the Imperial Guard, his dark yellow skin weathered by battle. Judging by his insignia, he was Kinshasa, commander of the Eighth Legion.
"Of course you're not afraid, Kinshasa," another commander snickered. "You've got Great General Selene behind you. I heard you killed one of Honest's nephews in the Upper City four years ago—beat him to death right in the street! Honest didn't even dare make a sound and publicly cut ties with that branch of his family."
"Ahahaha!" Laughter rippled through the Guard's officers.
"Hey, Kinshasa, that Liver fellow's a real talent. Should we petition the Great General to bail him out?" another suggested.
"Forget it. 'A warrior must not meddle in politics'—that's the rule," Kinshasa replied, reclining in his chair. "Besides, I doubt the Great General hasn't already heard about it. We've no reason to panic. We follow her orders, nothing more."
He glanced at the others, adding, "More importantly, the Great General's leaving for her northern fief next week. No point troubling her with this before she departs."
"Hah... fair enough."
...
"You... you..." Honest's inspectors and the civil officials seated nearby had gone pale. Hearing these men speak so brazenly, their faces twisted with fury. Not long ago, they themselves had orchestrated Liver's downfall—fabricating charges to throw him into prison.
And now, these soldiers dared to mock them to their faces? They wanted to retaliate—to humiliate these coarse brutes and remind them of their place.
But... how? The moment their gazes met those of the Imperial Guard officers, their courage faltered. Two Great Generals stood behind these men—Selene and Budo. Even Minister Honest had to tread carefully around them.
So, swallowing their pride, they turned their resentment toward the provincial officers instead, glaring daggers across the hall. Fine. If we can't touch the Guard, we'll crush these provincials instead.
Najenda listened silently, disappointment clouding her eyes. General Liver... imprisoned? And for something so absurd?
All because he refused to bribe a minister's relative—what a tragic, shameful fate. She had once admired Liver deeply. When she first joined the army in the Western Defense Army, she had seen him in person—a sharp, commanding figure, even in his later years, brimming with strength and integrity. He was a blade drawn from its sheath—the pillar of the western frontier.
She had once dreamed of serving under him, perhaps even fighting alongside him for the Empire's people. But now...
Was such an Empire even worth serving?
The thought rose unbidden in Najenda's mind, and once it appeared, it refused to fade.
"Hello there, General Najenda. A pleasure to meet you. My name is Marcus—commander of the Eastern Defense Army. I suppose I'm something of a senior to you."
The speaker was a bald, middle-aged man with a kind expression, his chest covered in medals—the marks of a long and decorated career.
"General Marcus," Najenda greeted with a polite nod, forcing a faint smile. "It's an honor."
"Just call me Marcus," he said warmly. "You look troubled, General. Is this your first time attending a military conference like this?"
"..." Najenda hesitated, unsure how to respond.
Marcus sighed softly. "I can't blame you. The state of things in the Empire lately—it's enough to make anyone despair. But what can we do? We wait. Once His Majesty comes of age and takes the throne himself, perhaps things will turn around. I believe the Empire can rise again—just as it did under the late Emperor."
"But..." Najenda began quietly.
"Have faith," Marcus said gently. "And... learn to see things as they are."
The two continued their quiet conversation, Marcus sharing his hard-earned wisdom with the newly appointed general.
But then, the side door of the hall opened—and a wave of cold air swept through the chamber. A blue-haired figure stepped inside, her presence alone enough to chill the air.
The murmurs in the room faded almost instantly.
"Esdeath..."
Dressed in her pristine white uniform, Esdeath ignored the many curious and uneasy stares that followed her as she strode confidently to the front of the chamber. Unconcerned with the seating arrangements, she took a place of her own—neither among the Imperial Guard nor the provincial commanders—clearly signaling her intent to stand apart.
"Is that... Esdeath?" Najenda asked quietly, her eyes narrowing. "Wasn't she part of the Imperial Guard? Why isn't she sitting with them?"
"She left the Guard," Marcus replied simply.
"What? She left? Why—"
Before Najenda could finish, a powerful, synchronized clang echoed from outside the hall—the sound of countless soldiers striking their armor as they saluted in unison.
Najenda and Marcus exchanged puzzled glances, and then—
"Salute the Great General!"
The roar that followed shook the grand chamber, reverberating through its gilded walls like thunder. The massive doors swung open, and two Imperial Guardsmen entered first, standing at rigid attention.
"Announcing the arrival of the Great General—Commander of the Fourth, Sixth, Eighth, and Ninth Imperial Guard Legions, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Capital's Defense, Governor of the Northern Territories, and Duchess of Habsburg!"
As the formal proclamation ended, the rhythmic echo of footsteps filled the hall.
A radiant, commanding figure stepped into view—long, silvery-white hair cascading down her back, glinting beneath the golden chandelier. Her crimson eyes glowed with quiet authority. In that moment, Selene von Habsburg seemed less a mortal general and more a goddess of war.
Clad in a striking deep blue minidress adorned with silver-white armor accents, Selene moved with effortless grace toward the central dais, every step a quiet assertion of elegance and force. Her boots gleamed—tall, contoured, and sharp-heeled, rising high on her legs like polished silver lances—amplifying the allure of her commanding silhouette.
"I am Selene von Habsburg," she said softly but clearly, her voice carrying to every corner of the room. "At the request of Great General Budo, I will be presiding over this year's Imperial Military Conference."
Though some were surprised that Budo wasn't hosting as usual, the logic was self-evident—Selene was also a Great General, and her authority was beyond question.
"Salute to the Great General!" came the unified response. Esdeath, Najenda, and every other officer present bowed deeply.
"At ease," Selene said with a small wave of her hand. "Let us begin."
Seating herself at the center of the dais, she opened the conference ledger and began in a calm, deliberate tone, "The first matter on the agenda concerns General Esdeath's departure from the Imperial Guard command structure. The proposal grants her an independent corps formation and full autonomy for future operations."
She paused briefly before continuing. "Since she will no longer fall under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Guard, all associated military funding will henceforth be transferred from the Guard's budget to the direct oversight of Minister Honest."
Her crimson eyes turned sharply toward the row of civil officials seated near the front. "Any objections?" she asked coldly.
The faintly inhuman diamond pattern in her pupils gleamed under the chandelier's light. The officials stiffened instantly, breaking into cold sweat. Trembling, they bowed low in unison. "N-No objections, Great General!"
Selene's gaze shifted to the Imperial Guard commanders. "And you?"
"Approved."
"Agreed."
"Seconded."
Satisfied, Selene nodded faintly. "Then we proceed to the second agenda item: the completion of reconstruction efforts at the southwestern border fortress—Yule Mountain Pass—and the matter of its garrison quota allocation..."