The next day, the Emperor's Blade followed Kashchey out of the mansion and into a government building.
Outside the gate stood heavily armed guards. Inside, staff members bustled about, hurrying through corridors with stacks of documents in their arms.
Upon seeing Kashchey, their expressions shifted into reverence. Those not carrying anything stopped in place to salute him with solemn respect. Even those burdened with documents hesitated, as if wanting to salute despite their full hands.
Kashchey glanced over the staff working diligently, gave a small nod of acknowledgment, and gestured subtly for them to remain at ease.
The Emperor's Blade quietly observed the scene and thought to himself:
It seems Duke Kashchey exercises strong control over his territory. His subordinates appear to respect him greatly... though whether this is truly good for the Empire, I can't be sure.
As a member of the Emperor's Blades, he hoped Kashchey could maintain order within his domain. But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder—did these people serve the Ursus Empire, or were they loyal only to the duke?
Eventually, they arrived at one of the offices. Inside, a young Wendigo wearing gold-rimmed glasses was seated at a desk, focused intently as he worked.
Wendigos were a branch of the Sarkaz—an infamous race said to be cannibals. Renowned for their brute strength, legends claimed that three Wendigos could reduce a small city to ruins.
Hearing their approach, the Wendigo immediately paused his writing, stood, and offered a respectful bow.
"Sir."
The Emperor's Blades recognized him from intelligence reports. He was the son of the former Ursus field commander—Patriot. Once a scholar, this Wendigo youth had been framed by nobles during a parade organized for the infected and had nearly lost his life.
Kashchey had rescued him during that chaos—not out of strategy, but on a whim. To his surprise, however, the young Wendigo had turned out to be a rare talent.
Though his ideals were as immature as Kashchey's daughter's, under the duke's guidance he matured swiftly. Now, he was capable of handling much of the administration, especially regarding the [Infected and Non-Infected Coexistence Experiment Zone]. Kashchey had entrusted him with a majority of the responsibilities—and the results spoke for themselves.
Besides, it was no small thing to have the son of Patriot—a legendary figure—working under his banner. That alone was enough to make Kashchey feel the favor had paid off.
"Has your father replied?" Kashchey asked, his tone light but probing.
He had once extended an olive branch to Patriot. After the death of the previous emperor, the old Wendigo had been persecuted for being infected. Kashchey had made a generous offer during those dark times.
But Patriot had refused.
"I will not be used by you. Your ambition scares me."
That was the blunt reply to Kashchey's carefully crafted proposal.
Kashchey knew what he feared. Patriot, like many others, had likely been influenced by circulating rumors.
But all Kashchey truly wanted was a peaceful life. He didn't want to be hated by the short-lived races, didn't want to die by accident or intrigue, didn't want to lose his freedom. He just wanted to live—peacefully, stably.
Of course, Patriot understood what that rejection would cost him: he gave up his former honors, a better life, the protection of a duke. In the end, it forced him to leave the land he once defended, his family, and his friends.
Even so, he remained firm. He would never serve under Kashchey.
Because years ago, the late Emperor Ursus had once met with him personally and warned:
"Beware of Duke Kashchey."
The late Emperor had taken in that same Wendigo who had once fled Kazdel, escaping the bloody conflict between the twin kings. Out of loyalty and gratitude toward that emperor's memory, Patriot had refused to join Kashchey—no matter the cost.
"Father has replied."
The young Wendigo handed a letter to Duke Kashchey, who opened the envelope without hesitation—even with the Emperor's Blades present.
"As expected, your successor has found me and invited me to join the organization she founded—the [Reunion Movement]. Although still immature, her ideals have touched me. I will join her and work alongside her.
Your successor has grown well. Though still a bit inexperienced, she is already a qualified leader..."
But Patriot was also a father.
Though he had no intention of becoming a [Snake Scale], his attitude toward Kashchey had softened—because of his son. After all, with his wife now gone, his son had become everything to him.
If Kashchey were to ask him to spy on Talulah, Patriot would refuse without question.
But if someone merely asked him—as a concerned old father—to speak about his daughter's well-being and rebellious behavior... he might agree.
Talulah meant more to Kashchey than most would realize.
She was the daughter of Edward Artorius, Kashchey's old friend. Her father had been killed by her own uncle, Wei Yanwu, using the sword Chi Xiao. To prevent Yan from laying claim to Victoria, certain Ursus nobles had forcibly taken Talulah from her homeland and brought her to Ursus—eventually deciding that Duke Kashchey would adopt her.
Kashchey had played no part in their scheme.
But ever since, he had been haunted by fragmented memories—visions from what seemed to be another future.
In those memories, he saw himself possessing the body of a young draco, consumed by madness, trying to ignite a great war in a desperate attempt to restore Ursus to its former glory.
The image terrified him.
It felt alien.
He couldn't understand it.
Why should I give everything to Ursus?
To most of the short-lived species, the concept of a nation held deep meaning. They were born in it, raised by it, and died within it. Their parents raised them under its banner, and they would raise their own children the same way. A cycle of devotion, passed down from generation to generation—an unbroken chain.
But for the immortals, the nation was something else entirely.
Some had lived long before any nation existed. Some had nurtured the birth of nations—others had crushed them in their infancy. In the timeline of a country's rise and fall, an immortal might save the ancestors of the short-lived, and then harm their descendants centuries later. The weight of merit and sin piled endlessly upon their shoulders, leaving the younger races uncertain whether to honor them or to curse them.
To Kashchey, the Ursus Empire was merely one living nest among many.
He could not bring himself to sacrifice everything for a single nest—just as a short-lived person could not throw their life away for a mere house.
Perhaps some immortals would.
Kashchey would not.
Even in this era, where Terra's nations had risen and the age of Feranmuts and immortals had ended, no nation dared to look down on their kind. The only reason nations had risen at all was because the immortals failed to form a unified front. If they had, Terra's history would have unfolded very differently.
With their vast lifespans, their strength capable of leveling mountains, their mastery over disasters, and their wealth of ancient knowledge, immortals held power that dwarfed the nations.
And yet, this very power prevented them from uniting.
Because they could achieve almost anything without help.
And so, while Terra's nations rose in unity, the immortals fought alone.
In the end, those who were defeated could only become fragments absorbed into the civilizations of various nations.
Yet those very nations dared not press too hard.
Because if the immortals were ever truly forced to unite and retaliate...
That would be the day the nations would cease to exist.
---
I, Kashchey, will never become a madman like that.
And so, he lived quietly within the Ursus Empire—no more than a resident making his nest a bit more comfortable.
He never reached beyond, never interfered in matters that didn't concern him.
He avoided excess.
He avoided ambition.
But fate had other plans.
Despite all efforts to keep his life simple, it still led him to encounter the young draco.