1
The monumental scale of the Ptolois’s Gate made even the gathering of two hundred people below it with their horses and gear seem only like a humble grade school class on the way to a field trip. They fit quite easily at one corner of the square of ocher stone, generously spaced, each traveler immersed in double-checking they had everything they needed while waiting for the order to depart.
One hundred and forty of the crew were knights. Their armors were made as light as possible, chiefly reinforced leather and thin alloy plates, so as to not unnecessarily burden their steeds, and their helmets had open fronts to show their faces. The standard elite armor was deemed too provocative for a mission of peace. The first impression upon their meeting with the Langorians had to be as casual as could be achieved, without appearing altogether carefree. Each troop was armed with a short gladius and a state of the art compound bow, a small, tactical kite shield, and not much more.
Fifteen of the number were mages handpicked from the II Magic Battalion. Foreign nations dreaded the Imperial thaumaturgists, and their title alone daunted opposition more than catapults would have—and largely for no reason. The vast majority of human mages were not powerful enough to smash walls like a catapult would, but when were fears and superstition ever rational. Their infamy aside, not bringing any adepts at all would have been too daring. They were dressed inconspicuously in militaristic coats and black-painted leather, and didn’t stand out too much among the regular cavalry.
To speak of irrational fears, Margitte had been appointed the mages’ field commander. It was only a small platoon, but a person of civilian background leading combatants? How did the crew feel about that? Carmelia was the chief arcane coordinator on paper, but people were bound to feel instinctive apprehension in the presence of a non-human sorceress, whose very appearance unnerved them. No amount of explanations or rationalization could fully take away that sense of strangeness. In a bad spot, the troops likely had an easier time taking instructions from a fellow human.
Furthermore, Carmelia herself wished to avoid an active role in the campaign, which would’ve brought her deeper involved in human politics, and preferred the role of an impartial counselor. Laukan as well had refused direct command, nominating himself merely as Margitte’s backup. His experiences in the Dharvic War had scarred the man deep, and he now openly detested all instances of conflict. Instead, he chose to lead the medical team.
Margitte was naturally somewhat anxious about the great responsibility handed to her so early into her career, but was also more than eager to prove the doubting voices wrong.
Roughly thirty of the crew were civilian servants and officials. Carpenters, advisors, speech-writers, cooks, maids, accountants, secretaries, experts well-versed in local customs, wildlife, and so forth. Various talents were needed on a quest as grand in length and importance. Although, there was only one bard.
Beside horses, there were three great carriages prepared for her majesty and the more high-ranking passengers, and three lighter military-grade wagons for the supplies.
It was easy to tell at a glance which of the carriages was her majesty’s. Its sides were painted pure white with ornate, gilded frames, and elaborate wood carvings crowned the corners. Ten great wheels were under it, two pairs towards the front, three closer to the rear, the sides of them sparkling likewise golden in the morning sun. Eight pearl-white horses were reined before the transport, the only beasts in the company not entirely black.
No less effortless was it to guess the owner of the third carriage.
Carmelia’s own transport stood further down the line, every detail of it very familiar to Izumi, Waramoti, and Millanueve alike. That night-black vehicle was about the same size as the Empress’s—or rather, her majesty’s carriage was deliberately chosen to rival it. Regrettably, people didn’t traditionally make carriages any bigger—even for state heads—and there was too little time to have one custom-made just for the occasion. The Sovereign could only silently endure the fact that her carriage was actually some cubic inches smaller than that of the cirelo ambassador. Not that Yuliana personally even noticed such things.
The army’s transport was placed between the two, as if to prevent direct comparisons. Slightly smaller than either of the previously mentioned, it was also considerably more modest in looks, painted leaden gray with red frames, and the sides of the wheels were crimson too. It made up for the lack of glamour by having tall Imperial banners flutter on each of the corners. Or maybe it was a form of camouflage?
One would’ve assumed the ever competitive Marshal would’ve requested a far flashier ride, but there was a reason for the modesty of the military carriage. It was actually reserved for the officers below major in rank. The chiefs of staff traveled with the Empress. Since there was plenty of room and many things to discuss on the way. Surely they didn’t choose their seats based only on the looks of the ride. Surely.
As the Empress’s knight, Izumi could have had a comfortable seat among the leaders too, but she had asked for a personal horse instead. One dinner in such a company was awkward enough, never mind a trip lasting several weeks in a bumpy box on wheels. She shuddered at the thought. It was only while free to move, open sky overhead, that she could feel a little more at ease.
Though every choice had its cons.
“Another difficult challenge…” Izumi muttered aloud as she faced off with the stallion given to her.
“What are you doing?” Waramoti came over and asked, a rider as well. “Having a staring contest with your horse?”
“I was thinking you were right,” she said.
“Well, I tend to be, but regarding what in specific?”
“I didn’t even know how to ride a horse until summer, yet this fellow’s already my fifth mount. Coming up with names for them is starting to become a bother.”
“Ah, that. True enough, they don’t strictly need a name to bear you, do they?”
“As tempting as it would be to dub them all ‘Roach’ and call it a day, I feel I owe them better than a halfhearted pop-culture reference. Just for hauling my heavy butt around. Let’s see. You’re kinda cool. A nice, big, black stallion. Shame I already used Nobunaga. Ah, now I have it! You are Toyotomi! Toyotomi Hideyoshi, after the Great Unifier of Japan! Haha! Do you like that? Not bad, is it?”
The horse lifted its head. It was almost like a nod. It might as well have been itchy in the sun, but Izumi took it as a sign of approval all the same.
“Alright, let’s get along, Toyotomi,” she said and patted the horse’s neck. “It’s a long road we have ahead of us. You’re the only one in the world I can depend on…”
“No, do depend on someone who actually understands you,” the bard advised her.
“What, are you jealous? I can name your horse too, if you want?”
“That’s the last thing I see as worth envy!”
“Let’s see. How about ‘Pancho’?”
“I didn’t ask for a name!” he wailed. “Stop thinking about it! And why such a lame name!? My horse is just as cool as yours, if not more so! They might as well be brothers!”
“How about you, So-chan?” Izumi asked the young Court Wizard, who sullenly marched past the two. “Do you want a funny name for your horse? I’ve got a wholesale.”
“What? No!” the mage paused and exclaimed. “Why should I ride a horse, like any average grunt? For your information, I shall be traveling aboard Master Carmelia’s carriage, together with my master! More importantly, why are you calling me by such a weird name!? I’m not a horse, the last I looked! Where on earth did you take that from, anyway? It’s nothing like my actual name!”
“You don’t get it?” Izumi asked. “‘Sophie’, so So-chan. It makes sense, doesn’t it? And it’s cute. Super cute. I think it might be the finest nickname I’ve given anyone so far. Aren’t you happy?”
Margitte didn’t look happy in the slightest.
“Are you quite sane!? I have no idea what you’re talking about! Listen here! I do not approve of you! No matter how you’re her majesty’s confidant! No matter how you’re Master Carmelia’s friend, or a champion of the Guild, or a rider of dragons, or whatever else. You’re nothing but bad news, I feel it in my bones! So don’t get chummy with me, do not talk to me at all, and leave me well be!”
Muttering curses under her breath, Margitte turned her back and strode on. Izumi watched the girl go with a sigh.
“I’m starting to think there’s no dere to this tsun,” she said.
“Cut the girl some slack,” Waramoti told her. “Not everyone can handle your otherworldly nonsense. Sometimes the chemistry just doesn’t meet.”
“Maybe,” Izumi said, growing more serious, and petted Toyotomi. “But a sense of humor is a lifeline at war, right? If the young lady’s this high-strung before anything has even happened yet...I fear she won’t last for long.”
“I thought it was to prevent the war that we were going there?” Waramoti pointed out.
“Would be nice if it were that simple…”
The Empress herself was the last to arrive, along with her retainers. She couldn’t allow herself to neglect her duties even on the day of departure, but had done what little she could in her office up until the final moment. Greeting Izumi with a smile as she passed, she went on to board the white lead carriage, and Millanueve went with her. Once she was on, orders to mount were given to the rest of the entourage.
The army commanders took the stage next. General Monterey stopped before the assembled crew and knocked his boot heels firmly together.
“ATTENTION!” he hollered in his powerful voice, and all two hundred people fell immediately silent and ceased shifting, whether they were knights or civilians.
In the ensuing absence of sound, Miragrave walked past the General to the Empress’s carriage, climbed the steps onto the driver’s perch, and turned back to survey the company from up high. Her sharp, scrutinizing gaze passed over them, neglecting none.
“Looks like everyone’s here!” she then said. “We hereby depart for the scheduled state visit to the Kingdom of Langoria. The day’s destination is Ivola, ninety-five miles down the highway! The first to ask ‘when are we there?’ gets the midnight watch! COMPANY! Forward—march.”
The Marshal sat down next to the driver. Without further ado, the 200-man cavalcade took off. Three squads of cavalry at the front with a gap in between each, fifteen riders per each squad, four riders abreast. Then her majesty’s transport, another two squads, the army transport, Carmelia’s transport, two more squads of knights in between, then the supply wagons, and the remaining sixty-five riders.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
They rode as an orderly procession through the paved, sunlit streets of Eskeleion which tall apartment complexes and terrace gardens framed. Long lines of citizens had gathered on the sidewalks and clearings to see them off.
All of the city could doubtless feel that history was in the making. Little girls and students threw flowers on the road before the riders, petals of roses and vibrant poppies, stalks of lilacs. Young women ran alongside the horses, passing orchids to the departing knights, to be worn on the breast. Yuliana waved at the cheering people through the carriage window and the sun shone bright.
Smiles came easy. If only the Langorians would agree to lay down their weapons, it meant peace in the world, at least as far as the human realms were considered. It was going to be the first real instance of such since the Age of the Gods; a utopia most had considered an impossible fantasy, yet which suddenly stood so close within mortal reach.
But Izumi couldn’t bring herself to take part in the joy of the masses. She rode past them without a smile, without waving, without looking at anyone, feeling cold inside.
The world won’t be saved with flowers.
They rode on to Bureilion, past the stubby apartment buildings the color of oxidized sand, and the little shops and armories and mail offices. Children of the neighborhood chased after the riders a long way, and the knights would look back and wave at them, and throw cheap coins to great hilarity. Hooves clattered on the pavement and they crossed an arcing bridge of masonry to Torneilion, the dwellings and facilities growing more modest block after block, and the road less clean.
Two hours before noon, they had the post-harvest farmlands before them, vast stretches of cut, dried stalks, like hairs of gold jutting out of the roughly sheared land. Only the sparse manors planted on the hills here and there, and the weather-worn statues of people long gone by the road and in the most random spots on the fields, allowed the eye to gauge the distance. They saw bulls draw ploughs through the limitless earth, lean men and women taking them. They watched the earth turn line by line from gold back to dirt, and thought to see the whole of human life cut to its raw essence before them.
General Monterey turned his eyes from the carriage window to Millanueve, who sat on the opposing bench, and assumed a half-humorous, half-apologetic grin.
“You only just got here, yet must now leave again. Hard life, eh, De Guillon?”
“No, I don’t mind,” Millanueve modestly answered. “I like traveling. It puts me at ease.”
“That so? How did you find Bhastifal, at any rate? Quite unlike any other place in the world, isn’t it? Was your stay at least an enjoyable one, despite its brevity?”
“I’ve been here before,” Millanueve answered, a distant look in her eyes. “Just once. My father brought us, me and my brother. We were still very little at the time, and I remember hardly a thing. But I remember thinking how big everything was. It is a beautiful city; beautiful, but greater than man. A city built by people, yet not meant for people, but for something more—oh, I don’t mean anything bad by that! It was just the first impression I got. Well, it’s a fine place to live, I think, after you get used to its ways.”
General Monterey laughed heartily at the flustered girl’s opinion, while Millanueve regretted having said anything. Things always came out all wrong, when she tried to speak them.
“In all seriousness,” the General continued, a degree more serious, “you needn’t have come with us. This trip could get dangerous still, as previously told. You could have stayed and watched the hearth for us.”
“No.” Millanueve shook her head. “Dangerous or not, it’s my wish to be here. After all, I’ve hardly begun to pay back her majesty for her many favors. If my being here helps even just a little, then it’s surely worth any trouble.”
“You’re still saying that?” Yuliana interjected with a bit of a troubled smile. Seated close to the General, she couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. “You owe me nothing at all, dear friend. Everything was willingly given, and more yet you deserve, for all you have been through.”
“Oh, you mustn’t pamper others so, your majesty!” Millanueve argued, looking embarrassed. “You’ll ruin their character.”
“I fear Lady Millanueve is already beyond aid in this department,” Hila commented from the corner seat on the other side. Fortunately, her voice didn’t reach Millanueve over the rumble of the wheels, and with Tilfa between them, Yuliana couldn’t elbow the maid either.
“Wait till you see my home city,” Yuliana told Millanueve instead, changing the topic. “You haven’t been to Langoria before, have you?”
“Oh, no. I haven’t.”
“You’ll be surprised. I guarantee it. Bhastifal is a majestic society indeed, but the city of my forebears is no less grand, in its own inimitable way—no offense there, General.”
“Ha, none taken!” Monterey laughed. “But is that something the Empress of Tratovia should say? About her own city?”
“I’m allowed to appreciate both, no?” Yuliana replied. “It is not a competition. Well, maybe it is, just a little. Call me partial in my opinion, but I do believe Walhollem is the fairer of the two, based purely on aesthetic merits.”
“Well, I have not seen the gem of the southern Kingdom myself yet, so I shall withhold further comments on the subject. Although, after so much laudation, I am now twice as thrilled to reach there. Should the view at the destination shake my heart accordingly, I will freely admit defeat then and there. But, if your majesty would mean to suggest a contest, then we are going to need to decide upon suitable prizes and penalties too, aren’t we?”
“Good heavens.” Yuliana shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Why must Tratovians make a contest out of everything, anyway?”
“Oh, you will not trick me quite so easily! Were you not baiting me into a match from the start with such a choice of words, knowing full well my people’s character? But I shan’t mind! Whatever terms my lord deigns to name, I shall accept without a word of protest.”
“I did no baiting!” Yuliana insisted with feigned innocence, before adding with a small smile, “But far be it from me to turn down a friendly challenge. Speaking of stakes, I was previously made to wear a pink frill dress for a day, and am simply itching for a payback. Sadly, the Marshal is presently out, but let us continue in a similar vein. I never had the chance to go swimming on my trip to Luctretz—so this time, the loser of the game must wear nothing but their swimsuit for a full day, to work and home. How about it?”
The listeners felt her majesty was pushing the limits of decency with her suggestion.
But General Monterey only laughed out loud.
“I was the one to claim I would accept any terms, and am not to be made a liar so soon! Very well! Swimsuits it shall be!”
“How would you even judge such a contest?” Millanueve asked the two. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? Who would be willing to admit the other one’s home city is fairer than his or her own? And so that everyone can agree on it too? That’s not going to happen, is it?”
“You’re right,” Yuliana said with a mischievous smile. “I personally hate losing, and I imagine the good General is the same way. Neither of us can be considered impartial. Which is why—you’re going to be our judge.”
“Huh?” The girl paused and blinked. “Me?”
“Yes, I wouldn’t have it any other way!” the General concurred with a wide smile. “Surely anyone can agree that whichever metropolis of man De Guillon chooses as the fairest on earth, it will only be the honest truth and nothing but the truth. Can we entrust this heavy duty to you then?”
“Is that truly all right…?” Millanueve could only sigh helplessly in answer.
Acting like mischievous children, despite the grim goal of the journey and the crushing stakes—she never would’ve thought these high and mighty people could have it in them.
Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to criticize them for not being serious enough either. It was painfully apparent they were only trying to cheer her up, having observed her melancholic silence these past few days.
Millanueve couldn’t tell them the cause of her dispirited state had nothing to do with the mission.
2
Weather favored the travelers and the trip proceeded smoothly. From town to town they carried on, from village to village, dot to dot. The further the highway delivered them from the Empire’s capital, the further became reduced the civility of the habitats, and the closer was man carried to his feral origins. But like torchbearers of a higher human condition, the entourage rode with dignity even where the grip of law grew lax.
In a week, the only sign of the culture left was the dusty, beaten road as it cut through the endless natural pastures that lay smudged with the colors of autumnal rust and lingering summer green, and all the perceivable hues in between.
They rode through little copper groves with their elder oaks and sparse-grown poppies. They rode around shallow vales in the long afternoon shadows of which dark-furred mammals of otherworldly praeries napped. They rode through wide, barren fields where no tree grew and where the sun had burned grass to curled bristle over the long months of summer, and snakes sprawled over flat rocks to catch what little warmth the wintry eye in the sky could spare.
No bandits or monsters were brave enough to hinder the Empress’s entourage, if any were near, and the riders kept up a brisk but easy pace.
Riding with Waramoti, Izumi spent time trading stories about what had happened in the time after they’d parted ways in the north. But it was mostly only him asking the questions and telling the tales. She eventually told him to stop altogether and refrained from speaking for a long time.
“I’m sorry your retirement plan didn’t work out,” the bard told her. “But it’s not too late yet, is it? We take care of this mission, stop the war, save the world. There’ll be peace, life goes on—and then what? What are you going to do after it’s all over?”
“What?” Izumi stirred from her thoughts with a disturbed frown. “What are you doing, raising death flags out of nowhere! What comes after only comes after. You don’t talk about the future on the way to a mission. That never ends well!”
“There’s a rule like that?”
“Absolutely. The more innocent the plans, the higher the mortality rate. Love talk especially—no go. Extra forbidden.”
“Oh, come on, that’s just a silly superstition,” he said. “We used to talk about things like that all the time in the army, and not everyone died. What’s the big deal? Destiny is decided by your own hands, isn’t that the core message?”
“Yes, I’m still not talking about it. Better be safe than sorry.”
“But I want to know. The readers want to know. What else is there to talk about?”
“No, I won’t take on any more bad luck just to help your arc of drama!” Izumi insisted, facing forward. “Go bug somebody else. For once, you have a lot more characters to choose from. Wouldn’t a tale from the perspective of a regular infantryman be novel?”
Waramoti looked cautiously around. “...I can’t answer that without getting shanked at night, can I?”
Determined to ignore everything he would say for the rest of the day, Izumi fixed her gaze on the horizon and rode on. But he wouldn’t give up on the topic so easily.
“So, since love talk is forbidden, does that mean you’ve a mind to propose?”
The woman nearly fell off her horse.
“—HAA? Who is!?” she yelled back, her face bright red. “Don’t say such things, idiot! And my face isn’t red, don’t you dare write that! I’m going to want to see that page later!”
“Right. So who’s the lucky one? Is it the one we talked about before?”
“Aaa!” The champion flailed frantically in her saddle, making a lot of noise. “Pipe down! Shush! What if someone hears you!?”
“So what if they do?” The man shrugged. “What is the big deal? Love is quite about the most natural thing in the world. Why hide it? If proposing after the battle is bad, then propose before. Personally, I think it’s better the sooner you get such distractions out of the way.”
“I don’t want to hear that from a Casanova like you!” Izumi retorted. “You just don’t have a single tactful bone in you, despite the artist act. Maybe it’s not so simple for the rest of us.”
“What makes it difficult? Nothing. The difficulty is in your head.”
“Come on…” she groaned. “How can you still say such carefree things, knowing where we’re headed?”
“Which is to say…?”
“I’m talking about the final destination,” Izumi reminded him with a sullen face. “Did you already forget? This mission might mean the world for the locals, but it’s only warm-up for us. The main event is still way ahead of this. That tower, the prophecy, the end of the age...Do you honestly believe any one of us is coming back from that trip alive? Well, even if someone does, it probably won’t be me.”
“Why’s that?” He glanced at the woman, alarmed by her tone.
“Maybe I don’t plan to come back,” she answered. “I’m tired, kid. My best before-date as a hero is long past. I didn’t come all this way for my own sake. You should know as much.”
The bard saw it wisest to ask no more questions that day. If heroes saved people from monsters, who would save the hero from herself? Destiny? They rode on silently, past another shabby village, past another milestone. Past another brook, another pastry.
From sunset to sunset. Dot to dot.