Klimbert moved swiftly back into his private study. His hand reached for the ornate family sword mounted above the fireplace—a blade passed down through generations, forged from pure mana steel.
He drew it with a soft sound, the blade gleaming coldly in the firelight. Without hesitation, he channeled his mana into the sword, causing it to glow faintly and hum with restrained power.
A sharp, authoritative knock echoed at the door.
"Come in!" Klimbert barked.
The door opened, and Anem, his loyal butler and chief advisor, entered with a deep bow.
"My lord, you called for me?"
Klimbert didn't lower the sword; his gaze remained sharp.
"Status. About our troops and the region."
Anem straightened and replied immediately.
"My lord, according to our intelligence unit..." he said crisply, "since you refused to attend the recent royal meeting—and declined the king's request to nationalize all regional armies—there have been some political whispers. Tensions are rising slightly."
