Chapter : 2

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Rudravaan — The Emperor
A fearless ruler and master swordsman. Calm even in defeat, he carries the pride of his kingdom to the very end.

Morvyn — The Physician
The emperor’s loyal friend and healer. Wise, quiet, and burdened by sorrow, he stands as the last witness to a fallen era.

Chapter : 2

After everything had settled down, the Emperor, the Physician, and the soldiers gathered around the table. Just before the discussion began, the Physician asked, “How did Emperor Rudravaan suffer such terrible injuries? He was the strongest swordsman—what happened out there?”

One of the soldiers replied, “Even we were shocked, my lord. We’ve never faced such an overwhelming army. The emperor fought like a storm—fearless and relentless. He alone brought down half their forces.”

Another soldier added, “There were ambushes everywhere, but he never faltered. The enemy realized that if they kept fighting, they’d lose countless men. They withdrew, believing he would die from his wounds and blood loss. None of us thought he’d survive… yet here he stands.”

Everyone gathered in the dimly lit room.
The emperor sat on a wooden chair, his body still wrapped in bandages, pain flickering behind his calm gaze.

“Sit,” he said firmly.

The soldiers obeyed, taking their seats in silence.

“We must return to our kingdom,” Rudravaan began. “Our enemies will not wait. They may already be searching for us. We must rebuild — train harder than ever before.”

At his words, the soldiers rose with renewed resolve, soon filling the camp with the sound of clashing swords and determined voices.

Turning to Morvyn, Rudravaan said, “Watch for enemies while I’m gone.”

Morvyn frowned. “Where do you plan to go in that condition?”

The emperor smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I’m only going to catch some air.”

He packed lightly — one rusted katana sealed in its old sheath, one new blade, and a bit of food. Then he stepped into the forest.

After walking for some time, he sighed and checked his bag.
“Ah… I forgot my booze.”

Days passed like this, until at last he reached the towering gates of another kingdom.
A weathered sign read: “Southwest Kingdom.”

He entered through the gate, watching life unfold around him — merchants shouting, children playing, people laughing without fear.

Following the scent of roasted food, he stopped at a small street stall.
The shopkeeper glanced up at him, eyes widening. “Whoa, what happened to you? Get you get into a fight”

Rudravaan gave a faint smile. “Something like that… a long battle.”

“What are you looking for?” the shopkeeper asked.

“Booze,” Rudravaan replied simply.

The man said. “You’re in luck — there’s a famous bar right at the end of this street.but take this advice leave as soon as possibe after you finished your business here.”

“Thanks,” said Rudravaan, and made his way there.

As Rudravaan walked down the street, he happened to hear people mocking their new emperor.
He showed no reaction and simply kept walking.

Inside, laughter and music filled the air. He sat at the counter and ordered a drink. The bartender slid a bottle toward him without a word.

As he took his first sip, a stranger entered — rugged, carrying a sword. He sat across from Rudravaan, beer in hand.

For a long moment, the two men said nothing.
Only the clink of their bottles echoed between them,

After finishing his first bottle, the mysterious man let out a satisfied sigh.
“Ohh… this is what I expected,” he said, smirking.

Rudravaan glanced at him briefly.

“Another!” the man shouted.

Without hesitation, Rudravaan raised his own hand. “Another.”

They drank again.
And again.
Each time the man shouted for another round, Rudravaan echoed him calmly — until the stranger’s expression twisted from amusement to irritation.

His hand slammed against the table. “You mocking me, aren’t you?”

Rudravaan simply tilted his bottle, taking another drink.

The man clenched his teeth but suddenly barked, “Another!”
Rudravaan met his eyes — and shouted back, “Another!”

The bar fell silent. The laughter stopped. The bartender froze mid-motion, eyes wide in disbelief.

The stranger stood, rage burning in his eyes. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”

Rudravaan, his voice slow and slightly slurred, replied,
“Why would you think that?”

That only fueled the man’s fury. He drew his sword with a hiss of steel.
“Then draw yours! Let’s see what kind of drunk you really are!”

Rudravaan sighed softly. “If that’s what you want…”

He rose from his seat, gripping his new katana in one hand — the blade half-drawn, ready for a single strike — while his other hand still held the bottle.

The bartender panicked. “Fenlor! stop! Don’t fight at my bar And look He’s injured — he’s not from here!”

But Fenlor didn’t listen. With a roar, he swung down his sword —

CLANG!

A sharp metallic echo filled the bar.

Everyone gasped. Fenlor’s blade was stopped — his blade halted effortlessly by Rudravaan’s sword.

The emperor hadn’t even looked at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the bottle as he calmly took another sip.

Fenlor stumbled back, stunned.
The bartender’s voice trembled, “He… he blocked it with one hand…?”

And Rudravaan, still drinking, murmured under his breath,
“Your swing’s too heavy. You’ll never win like that.”

With a loud thud, the stranger set his mug down and glared.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

Rudravaan blinked, confused. “Are who… you? No, wait— you who… no, no…”