To the Madrosa Kingdom (2)
Calix called up his minimap and zoomed it out as far as possible.
The entire Eren Continent now fit on a single page.
In the northeast of the West Continent, a small dot marking his position was steadily drawing closer to the city of Al-Kannak.
"Is Al-Kannak part of our territory?"
At Calix's question, Yurin shook her head.
"No."
"Then the desert kingdom?"
"Strictly speaking, it's no one's land. The desert tribes don't own territory. They just share it."
"Hmm, I see."
"Al-Kannak is the city built around the first oasis you encounter entering the desert. Back when trade was booming, it was quite glamorous... but now that trade has stopped, it's fallen into decline."
"Do you know why the trade stopped?"
"I skimmed the materials Madam Hari sent... The biggest reason was the Madrosa Kingdom's invasion a hundred years ago."
"I've heard something about that. But trade didn't completely stop until a few years ago, right? Smuggling, mostly."
"The rumors say the atmosphere there is getting tense."
"War?"
"More like usurpation. When the king died, his younger brother drove out his nephew and crowned himself."
"What's that got to do with trade?"
"Do you know how the Madrosa Kingdom's invasion ended?"
"Roughly. They pushed too deep and got crushed by the Holy Empire's supreme commander. Almost no one made it back alive."
"The elders who remember that era hate trade. They think the wealth from mediating trade between the East and West Continents made them arrogant."
"And those elders are the political backers of the guy who became king now."
"Exactly. The previous king opposed the elders."
"Hmmm... This might be trickier than I thought. Is that nephew still alive?"
"Officially, he's dead."
"Officially?"
"Madam Hari thinks there's a high chance he's alive."
Calix nodded.
Madam Hari's judgment was spot on.
Soon, there would be a move to reinstate the exiled prince as king.
But that rebellion would ultimately fail due to a traitor within.
"I think I know what your plan is, big brother. Am I right?"
"Yeah. If possible, I want to engineer a regime change and start unrestricted trade."
"Is that possible?"
"Guess we'll find out."
Al-Kannak was far more developed than Calix had vaguely imagined.
If not for the constant sand-laden winds, he might not have realized it was in the desert.
Neat cubic buildings stood densely packed, and clear water flowed along artificial canals lining the main streets.
Calix let out an involuntary exclamation.
"Honestly, this is way beyond expectations."
"Everyone says that when they first arrive."
Yurin puffed out her chest with pride, as if she were a local.
"You talk like you're the exception."
"Hmph! I've seen pictures!"
"Tsk tsk, six of one, half a dozen of the other."
As Calix and Yurin bickered, they naturally fell quiet upon entering the city.
It was the unnaturally still atmosphere.
Few people were about, but more than that, it was too quiet.
Like a ghost town.
Only as they ventured deeper into the interior did signs of life gradually increase.
"Lots of empty houses."
"Yeah. It's clearly decayed massively."
At that moment, someone approached Calix's group and spoke.
"Welcome. We greet you in Al-Kannak. I am Yazid. What brings you here?"
Gordon, leading the group, replied.
"We'd like to see the chieftain."
"Understood. But not today. If the chieftain permits, please return."
"If you know of an inn, I'd appreciate directions."
"To be frank, there are no inns. It's been years since trade fully stopped. But there are plenty of empty houses—use them as you like."
"Hmmm... Very well."
In the end, Calix's group arbitrarily occupied a dozen or so empty houses on the city's outskirts for lodging.
But they had been uninhabited for a long time; outwardly intact, inside they were virtual ruins.
They had no choice but to pitch tents within the buildings and set up camp.
"At least it's not hostile."
"Hmm... I hope so."
The audience with the chieftain, supposedly in a few days, kept getting delayed.
Gordon confronted Yazid, but got only "internal meetings" as an excuse.
Krout furrowed his brow.
"This doesn't feel right."
"Same here."
"What do we do?"
"Desert tribes mainly use curved swords. Our soldiers use spears. In close-quarters melee in narrow spaces, we're at a disadvantage."
Calix gave Krout several orders.
And that night.
Yazid pressed his back against a building wall, gripping a black-painted curved sword.
The narrow, twisting alleys formed a labyrinth; even with the moon bright overhead, it was pitch dark.
Perfectly blended into the shadows, Yazid crept toward the empty houses where Calix's group was staying.
Between the two-story buildings, crude barricades of old furniture formed defensive walls.
Sentries even patrolled the rooftops.
Caught off guard by the solid defenses, Yazid was confused.
'Are these really mercenaries hired by merchants? This thorough even inside the city?'
Then, from a brightly lit building, raucous voices erupted.
"Wahaha! Drink up! Drink! Drink! Drink!"
"Gulp gulp gulp!"
"Kyaha!"
"Back in my day..."
'Hmph! Just as I thought. Posers mimicking what they've heard.' Relieved, Yazid signaled his men.
Black shadows multiplied in an instant.
That was when it happened.
Clang! Kang! Thud thud!
A noisy racket like steel balls pounding a metal box echoed through the night sky.
At the same time, torches tumbled from the building he'd leaned against.
The moment one of Yazid's men peeled away from the wall to extinguish a torch—
Sssik—thunk!
A bolt streaked like lightning, piercing his body.
"Cough!"
He spewed blood, collapsed, and went still.
Yazid realized they had fallen into a trap.
'Damn! What now?'
Lipping his anxiety, he turned at a brilliant light.
The door of the boisterous drinking building swung open, and burly men emerged.
Calix, Krout, Gordon, and several escort knights.
"Surrender. I'll spare your lives."
"Bullshit!"
"Tsk, always asking for the whip."
Calix raised his hand and slashed it down; whistling air and screams erupted from all sides.
Pheew—
"Argh!"
Swoosh—
"Aaaak!"
Unable to hold out, Yazid yelled.
"Everyone, retreat! Retreat!"
Like an ebbing tide, the black shadows fled.
Watching, Calix said to Krout,
"Capture that one."
"Yes, sir."
Subdued in a blink by Krout, Yazid entered the building and realized he'd been utterly fooled.
No drinking party, not even a scrap of snack.
A large wall map, stacks of documents on the table, even the rumored expensive communication magic orb.
It rivaled a legion command post.
'Damn! I drew the short straw. Not some moth chasing quick gold!'
Mana restraints applied, Calix sat cross-legged before him.
"Now we can have a serious talk."
"P-Please spare me!"
"Think carefully before answering. We've caught a few others besides you. If your stories don't match... you know."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Good. First, the name of the tribe ruling Al-Kannak?"
"The Talas Tribe."
"Is that so? Chieftain's name?"
"Izmael Albas."
"Izmael, huh..."
Rubbing his chin in thought, Calix prompted Krout's question.
"Know him?"
"Of course not."
"True enough..."
In truth, he knew well.
Izmael was the rebel leader.
He was just surprised at how easily he'd gotten the clue.
'Makes sense. A tribe holding Al-Kannak would rebel against a king banning trade.'
"Does he know you're doing this?"
"D-Doing what, sir?"
"Ambushing and eating small-time merchants trying a bit of trade."
"Well..."
He hesitated; it was behind the chieftain's back.
But Calix doubted Izmael was clueless.
He was likely turning a blind eye, as it benefited him.
Not expecting much, Calix asked,
"Where's the chieftain?"
"I really don't know! The Talas chieftain stopped external activities long ago. I swear! Believe me!"
"Would you believe you?"
"It's true, ugh!"
"Quiet!"
"Eek!"
"Fine, let's say so. You must have some guess."
"Well..."
"Spit it out. The more the guy next door spills, the less useful you are. Hurry."
"Urgh...!"
Yazid glanced desperately toward the passage to the next room, racking his brains.
Soon, his eyes widened in realization.
"Ah!"
But Calix ignored him, leisurely scanning documents.
Yazid shelved his plan to bargain with the info.
Calix's nonchalance showed he valued him low.
Demanding something could backfire; if the next guy spilled the same, he was done.
Buried head-first in the sand, maybe.
"Izmael went into seclusion about three years ago. Rumors he died circulated... but when Talas tribesmen didn't stir, it died down."
"That's it?"
"N-Now the important part! The others probably don't know."
"Doubtful."
"Pardon?"
"Never mind. Continue."
Yazid shivered at Calix's emotionless gaze.
His mouth sped up.
"After trade stopped, sheep prices crashed, grain skyrocketed. But lately, prices stabilized. What does that mean? Smuggling, right? That's why I planned this—figured regular caravans pass through somewhere. Just skim a toll, and we'd thrive... heh."
"And? Any luck?"
"Nope. Only small fry of a dozen or so. No big ones. True! Was thinking of quitting; margins are thin."
"Heh, sure."
Calix sneered at Yazid's glib lies.
But the info sketched a baseline.
"Bring the transcribed blank map for this worm."
"Yes, young master."
Calix shoved the parchment map at Yazid.
"Mark the Talas tribesmen's migration routes. Spring, summer, winter—everything."
"W-Will you let me go after?"
"We'll see, depending on how you do."
Calix's vagueness meant no release at all.
Yazid scanned instinctively, but escape was impossible.
Even Krout alone had taken him down in seconds.
Caving to the knights' glares, he grudgingly drew.
Comparing the finished map to his minimap, Calix grasped the situation.
'Well, damn. Looks like these guys found the ruins I was heading to first. Luck or curse...?'