Episode 95 — Synchronized Intimidation

The luxurious carriage carrying Duke Daryl, ruler of the vast western territories, raced along the central highway leading into Felsen.

Daryl stared out the window with a bitter scowl. To him, Felsen was nothing more than a "dead frontier," a place devastated by the war three years ago and left to rot in mud and dust.

"I can't believe it. What is that brat planning?"

In the Duke’s hand was that inexplicable invitation from Lord Gustav. It was written in words that were almost insolently brief, yet printed on paper so white and smooth it was unlike anything Daryl had ever seen.

"Celebrating the completion of the New City. Please come and witness for yourselves a new order of wisdom and wealth."

For months, Daryl had been exerting pressure on Felsen, demanding the return of the subjects who had migrated there. He had assumed this banquet was either a desperate plea from a weak territory or a hollow display of bravado.

However, as the carriage crossed the border and approached the new city, the first crack appeared in his certainty.

"Driver! Have you slowed down? The shaking has stopped."

"No, Your Grace! I haven't changed speed. The road... the road is as smooth as a mirror!"

Daryl looked out the window in shock. The mud-caked ruts were gone. Instead, a perfectly level, stone-paved highway stretched straight to the horizon. On both sides, magic stone lamps were placed at regular intervals, illuminating the highway with a pale yet warm light that seemed to reject the very existence of twilight.

"This is... even the main thoroughfares of the Capital are not like this. Just how much wealth and labor was poured into completing such a road?"

The carriage carrying the bewildered Duke slid into the Lord’s manor of the new city without so much as a vibration.

The visiting nobles were first guided to a beautifully maintained, sprawling courtyard.

At the far end, a magnificent stone stage had been set up, lined with luxurious seats for the guests of honor. Countless magic stone lamps illuminated the area, making the space as bright as day.

As Daryl and the other invited guests took their seats, a murmur spread among them. However, their eyes were quickly drawn to the courtyard below.

There, a hundred knights stood in perfect formation, as still as statues. They did not speak; they did not even seem to blink. Their presence exerted a bottomless pressure on the watching nobility.

It was then that the murmurs finally died down.

"Formation!!"

The command from Knight Commander Bartos, sounding like the strike of steel on steel, sliced through the silence of the night.

BOOM!!

A single, explosive sound of a hundred boots hitting the ground echoed as one, making the earth itself tremble.

In the vast courtyard, the hundred knights began to march in unison. There was not a single millimeter of deviation in their movements. The right leg rose, the left leg fell. The timing was perfectly synchronized, as if they were the heartbeat of a single, giant organism.

Tramp. Tramp. Tramp. Tramp.

With every heavy step, the air in the courtyard turned into physical pressure that pricked the skin of the nobles. It wasn't that a single warrior was strong. It was that a hundred men were moving like a precision machine, connected to a single, massive will.

"Halt!!"

Another command. A perfect stop, where even the echo of the footsteps vanished instantly. The Duke sat in his guest seat, unconsciously gripping the armrests of his chair.

From the back of the stage, a man appeared quietly. It was Gustav, the Lord of Felsen. He carried no weapon; he simply walked forward with the dignity of a noble and looked down at the knights below from the edge of the stage.

At that moment, Bartos raised his sword.

SHING!!

A hundred swords were drawn from their scabbards simultaneously. The metallic ring wasn't a collection of individual sounds; it was a single, massive shockwave that vibrated in the ears of the guests.

The knights held their swords vertically in unison. They raised the crossguards to nose height, pointing the blades toward themselves and presenting the hilts toward their master, Gustav, on the stage.

"My life is yours to command!!"

The "Sword Salute," an expression of absolute loyalty. Their perfectly synchronized movements struck home as a deterrent of maddening military precision.

(This is not just a ceremony. This is Felsen’s clear answer: if we attack, this synchronized iron swarm will crush us without mercy!)

Daryl understood this through the instinct of a man who had survived battlefields. The knights before him were no longer individual humans. They were a single, massive weapon with a hundred blades, wielded by a single master named Gustav.

Overwhelming force and discipline. Once that fear had permeated every corner of the audience, Gustav smiled warmly and looked out over the nobles.

"Welcome, everyone, to the new Felsen. I apologize if it was a bit noisy. My Knights are quite dedicated to adjusting to our new laws and discipline. Now, the banquet is prepared in the manor hall. I hope you will all enjoy yourselves tonight."

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