Chapter 113
Chapter 113
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Entering the Capital
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“Alright! If you're all ready, let's head out!”
“Nothing missing? What about water and food?”
“We brought an extra carriage and loaded it full. There'll be a lot of snow the higher we go. We won't be able to go fast, so from now on, we have to keep moving nonstop except at night.”
“Right. We can't be late. Let's get going.”
Romandro bundled up his overcoat tightly and urged the coachmen on. True to his word as mayor, the manpower he'd prepared in just a few hours was top-notch. The coachmen looked sturdy, and the horses gleamed with healthy shine—clearly well cared for.
It was a wordless bribe, as if to say, *Look at my circumstances.*
“Ian. Isn't Hasha coming?”
“Hasha? Who's Hasha?”
“You saw him earlier. The dog.”
“…The dog?”
Romandro tilted his head at Berik's words. Come to think of it, he'd only seen Hasha eating with Berik, never really talking. Ian instructed them to close the carriage's back door and added,
“I'll explain on the way. Too many eyes and ears here.”
“Ah. Right. Let's do that.”
“There he is.”
Berik smirked at the sight of Hasha bounding down the hill in the distance, a family portrait clutched in his mouth. Panting hard, he wasn't late.
“He's here. Now we can go.”
“Understood. Coachmen, mount up!”
“The lead carriage will go slow!”
Hasha barely made it through the open carriage door and snuggled right into Ian's lap. The carriage procession slowly exited the still-chaotic streets. Residents gathered on both sides, waving lightly.
Clop-clop!
“Safe travels!”
“Farewell, milord!”
“Oh my, get inside!”
The mayor trotted alongside, bowing his head until the end. Ian shot him a warning glance to stay composed, then closed the curtain.
Swish!
Romandro sat across from Hasha, not hiding his tension.
“Are you afraid of beasts?”
“No? It's not that.”
“Then why's your head shrunk into your shoulders?”
Romandro swallowed hard and let out awkward laughs. Not scared, exactly, but uncomfortable, it seemed. Hasha tucked away his panting tongue and elegantly greeted him.
-*Pleased to meet you. I'm Hasha of Tokuntai.*
“…S-Sorry. Honestly, I thought you two were mana users and I was hearing things. Y'know, sometimes those with heightened senses act a bit crazy—no, my apologies. Ahem.”
Romandro confessed the moment he heard Hasha's voice. Then he hesitated and grabbed Hasha's paw—just like Ian had done.
“Pleased to meet you. I'm Romandro, imperial advisor.”
Inside the rumbling carriage, Ian shared what had happened overnight. The tragedy of the Astana people sparked by Wesley's atrocities, the massacre of the villagers, and the mysterious bandit horde.
Romandro, listening quietly, furrowed his brow.
“Necromancy? The Magic Department did gather necromancers from various races a few years back.”
“Was that an official decision?”
“As far as I know. I think the Grand Council approved it. One way or another, there was no formal reason to object.”
Undead legions from necromancy were incredibly useful in war. Ethically questionable, sure, but no real issues arose. Naturally, politics played a role.
*'If a force strong enough to unify conflict zones emerges, it's a threat to Bariel. Pretending to seek peace while maintaining balance is far better for overall control. I don't know what Wesley was thinking pushing that agenda, but from the empire's perspective, it wasn't a bad move.'*
Ian pondered deeply.
But Wesley was a mage before he was a politician. As one who wielded mystical power, he knew better than anyone how dangerous breaking taboos could be.
*'Why go that far?'*
Rebellion was unlikely.
There was no undead involvement in the history Ian remembered. As his brow furrowed faintly from endless speculation, Hasha rested his chin on Ian's knee.
*Plenty of time before Central,* he seemed to say.
*Too soon for last night's fatigue to fade.*
Ian caught Hasha's meaning and simply stroked his head.
* * *
Clack.
The carriage's motion smoothed out. Ian, dozing upright, sensed the change and opened his eyes. The road had improved.
*We've hit a paved road.*
Drawing the curtain, Ian involuntarily sucked in a breath. Something welled up from his chest. Far off, Bariel's capital, Central, displayed its majesty.
From this high vantage, it seemed endless in size and prosperity. Utterly incomparable to the borderland Bratz.
*'Crossed the Great Desert in late spring, and now four seasons later, I'm back.'*
It felt surreal. Ian's time had advanced only four seasons, while the world's had rewound over a century.
Taking in the cityscape, he recalled palace life. Tragic end aside, those three years weren't all misfortune. The smile tugging at his lips proved it.
“…Ian?”
“Berik. Look. It's Central.”
“Whoa! Finally!”
At the word “Central,” Berik shook off his drowsiness and sat up. After ten straight days of nonstop travel by day, their journey reached its end.
“We're here? Oh, yeah, we'll arrive in a couple hours.”
Romandro pressed his tousled head to the window. Soon he'd see his wife and child. Excitement poured from him.
“Coachman! Speed it up a bit! I'm dying here!”
At Berik's plea, the coachman cracked the whip sharply. Ian, too, felt unusually buoyant—truth be told.
The place where he'd been born, raised, and died. His homeland, brimming with life's meaning. Amid countless buildings, his eyes locked straight on the palace.
*The Imperial Palace.*
The palace from a century ago stood stern, splendid, unyielding—like the world's pillar.
“Passing the walls!”
“Wooow!”
Under the massive walls, Hasha and Berik stuck their heads out, gazing up. Gates taller than measurable opened and closed on their own.
Romandro shrugged proudly, explaining to the group.
“That's the power of magic. Things no human strength could achieve. Makes life in Central all the richer. That's why Central collects a bit more tax than other territories.”
“Mind blown.”
Like a kid seeing new tech. Among the line of entering carriages, plenty poked heads out like Berik and Hasha—probably all first-timers to Central.
“Lord Romandro! Your identification!”
“Yeah, here it is!”
“Thank you.”
Romandro's advisor badge streamlined entry. They bypassed waiting lines, speeding up inside the walls.
“Berik, see that road over there?”
“Where, where? The golden one?”
“That's for imperial family only—stay off it. And that's the sky path where messenger birds fly.”
“Whoa! Glowing lines in the sky!”
“Magic-made sky path. Same rules at high towers: no throwing stuff.”
“You think I'd do that?”
“Worse than a kid, that's why. Berik, remember what I said on the way up?”
“Yeah. No grabbing food with hands except bread at meals.”
“Also, in Central, greet with a smile if eyes meet on the street. When speaking, start with 'Dear' or 'Good morning' like that.”
“Man, so picky.”
“Commoners aside, anyone with standing must observe it. When Ian gets his viscountcy, you as his guard need to keep dignity too.”
Berik endured Romandro's etiquette crash course the whole trip up. He scowled like his ears were bleeding, but Romandro's nagging showed no sign of stopping.
“Straight to the palace?”
Romandro paused mid-ramble at Ian's question. He glanced out the window, then yelled to the coachman.
“Coachman! To the residence!”
Protocol demanded reporting to his superior right after entering Central, but after nearly a fortnight on harsh winter roads, everyone was ragged.
Stamina aside, their clothes and cleanliness didn't suit palace standards.
“Good we arrived morning. Wash up, rest, then head in afternoon.”
“That sounds best. You should see your wife too.”
“Haha. Not especially, ahem.”
Romandro's knee started jittering at Ian's words. How long since he'd seen the wife he dreamed of nightly! His home lay in a upscale district not far from the palace.
“Extra careful with manners from here. Where palace officials live.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Okey-dokey~!”
“Okey what, you brat!”
“…Understood.”
Romandro glared like he'd flick Berik's forehead, so Berik grudgingly corrected. His annoyance was plain, but no help for it.
Screech!
“Arrived. Lord Romandro.”
“Yeah. Good work.”
Romandro hopped out and strode into the yard. Modest size but spacious enough—perfect for newlyweds.
“Vivianna!”
His voice cracked calling his wife's name. Footsteps came from inside, then a servant emerged to greet him.
“Good heavens! Lord Romandro! You're back!”
“Oh, yeah. Where's Vivianna?”
“Inside. One moment! Ma'am! Lord Romandro's here! Come out!”
At the servant's call, a woman around thirty hurried out, cradling her swollen belly protectively.
“Darling!”
“Vivianna!”
The wife hugged her husband's neck joyfully. Romandro patted his tearful wife's back lightly, sniffling along.
“Ian! Unload the luggage?”
“Yeah. Let's do that.”
While subordinates sorted the carriage, Romandro and his wife kept embracing, whispering sweet nothings. Composing himself, Romandro wiped his eyes and called Ian and Berik.
“Ian! Berik! Let me introduce my wife, Vivianna.”
“Hello, dear viscount-to-be. And guard knight. I'm Vivianna. Heard so much from husband's letters. Thank you for treating him kindly.”
Ian kissed her proffered hand and nodded.
“No need. I've received much help from Lord Romandro myself.”
“Come inside! Heard you'd stay awhile, so I prepared rooms.”
“Thank you, madam. Ah, one more joined us on the way.”
“Oh! A dog! How splendid.”
“I'll have to tell you about the fortnight's journey too, madam.”
“Inside, please. Mini! Warm tea.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
Romandro started guiding them in, then gestured to subordinates unloading document boxes.
“You've worked hard too. Head home, rest up, await contact.”
“Lord Romandro! What about these?”
“Hm. Leave 'em. Heading to palace afternoon anyway.”
“Understood. Thank you for your efforts.”
“You too!”
Romandro smiled, ushering them home quick, and entered. He figured half a day till afternoon.
Clean forgotten: today's routine palace fellowship included Princes Marib and Gail.