Paragar... Gotta Be Careful
“Paragar... gotta be careful.”
Ian packed his bags and set off for the empire's southwest. Up until now, he'd been hanging around the northwest region of the empire. He'd swung by the Blue Key Monastery near the capital in the center, and now he was heading down south and west.
The ruler of the empire's northwest was Duke Aras. And the lord of the southwest Ian was now bound for was a guy named Duke Paragar.
Kira muttered that name under her breath as it came to mind.
“Paragar... where've I heard that before?”
Ian paused to dredge up an old memory. Paragar... Paragar...
“Ah.”
It hit him. Back when he'd stopped by River Bill, Baron Kaltz had chatted about the empire's situation. Something about bad blood between Duke Paragar and Duke Roxlan, right? Roxlan bordered Paragar to the east. From what he'd heard back then, it seemed like Duke Paragar had his eyes on Roxlan's lands...
“I've heard of him before. They say Duke Paragar's gearing up for war,” Kira said.
In the past, she'd been a con artist posing as a fake mage, scamming her way around. Kira hailed from the empire's south (probably). An orphan street rat with no real hometown, but she'd wandered far and wide enough to pick up plenty of stray knowledge. She'd even set foot in Duke Paragar's territory once...
...though she'd bolted the second she caught wind of war prep rumors. What good was a scam-mage on the battlefield? Straight to the execution block.
“Hmm. Better stay sharp.”
Ian figured he especially needed to watch his step. Mages were always in demand, but that demand exploded during wartime, obviously. On the battlefield, a mage was like a god—altering weather, reshaping terrain, even conjuring massive fires to incinerate soldiers. Armies without mages looked downright incompetent. Mages were that crucial.
They fetched top coin, sure, but that also meant nobles might get creative about dragging them into the fight. When war broke out, aristocrats loved to “requisition” mages by force. A lone mage versus a noble with power? It usually went the noble's way. Mages hated it, but what could they do? Better than a beheading.
Even with guilds like Mage Call to protect their own and that code of mutual aid, blind spots existed in any fence. Unlucky sacrifices happened. Ian could end up one if his luck soured.
Sure, if the duke tried conscripting him for war, the duke's own mages would fight tooth and nail to block it—that was mage solidarity. The duke would back off smartly... but people being people, nothing was guaranteed. Better safe than sorry.
“...Aras lands were pretty peaceful, huh.”
Ian muttered anew. The northwest empire region where he'd been staying—Duke Aras's domain—was reasonably peace?ful?. Even after dipping into Lucy Talian's domain war, it still felt chill. In this medieval fantasy world, war was everyday life. Baron squabbles were like catching up with neighbors. Only when dukes clashed did it feel like, Oh, big showdown going down somewhere!
“If war pops off, the emperor steps in,” Ian grumbled, then tilted his head. “But where is the emperor, anyway?”
This was the Holy Empire. Emperor meant ruler of the realm. Yet Ian hadn't so much as heard the guy's name whispered once!
Emperor, my ass. How did empire folk not even know their emperor's name?
“Beats me,” Kira said, true to her gutter-rat roots—no clue about the emperor.
But Belenca knew something.
“Other knights were saying he's moved his palace to Duke Roxlan's lands.”
“...Moved his palace?”
Kings lived in capitals, and shifting one was called a capital relocation. To the uninitiated, it'd sound like the emperor uprooted the capital to Roxlan turf. Half-right.
“Yeah, pretty much. The imperial palace keeps moving.”
“???”
Ian was briefly dumbfounded by Belenca's explanation. What, a walking castle? Ghibli flick? Whoa, fantasy world—palace grew legs!
“The palace moves? How??”?
Kira reacted the same. Truth was, these two were peas in a pod: commoner stock. Ian, a serf's son; Kira, orphan scooped up by a street performer. Belenca? Knight's daughter. Nobliest blood in the party belonged to her!
At the commoners' twin bafflement, Belenca smirked and explained. Foreigner or not, she hobnobbed with knights and knew empire elite lore.
“Kira, what do you think the imperial palace is?”
“...? Where the emperor lives...?”
“Right. Wherever the emperor lives is the palace. So if he relocates, isn't that the palace moving?”
Kira mumbled blankly.
“So the empire's emperor... just keeps house-hopping?”
Bingo. Kira nailed it.
The Holy Empire's emperor toured the duchies on a rotating schedule—like the “Sky Warden” from some orchard owner's bored fantasy tale! The emperor comes to you!
“Whoa... had no idea. Thought he hunkered down on his own turf like other nobles.”
Belenca shrugged. “He's the empire emperor. Can't just babysit one patch.”
Reasons abounded: maintaining balance, surveilling dukes, tradition. But the big one? Listening to dukes' endless whining.
Waaah, Emperor~ crops tanked this year~ Send aid~
Emperor~ Heathens keep raiding~ Help a duke out~
Neighbor kids—er, domain—keep picking fights! Say something~
This orchard! I claimed it first, but he's stealing it!
No way~ It's mine originally!
Liar!
...
Dukes bawled it out, emperor nursed a throbbing headache while hearing petitions. He was the empire's boss! Other nobles skimped on their domains; emperor managed the whole shebang. Empire was his, so hands-on it was.
Yeah. Empire emperor = kindergarten teacher... or group project lead.
“So the emperor heading to Roxlan means...”
“War prep, probably.”
Duke Paragar eyed Roxlan's land. Emperor parks his palace there? Message clear:
Emperor's squatting here now. Wanna swing? Be my guest.
Polite warning to Paragar. If the duke had sense, he'd pump the brakes. Problem: Ian had no clue what kind of guy he was.
Emperor or no, if Paragar just swung anyway... civil war confirmed.
“Rumor has it King Rolang's backing Duke Paragar.”
Paragar's lands sat southwest empire. Further west: Kingdom of Rolang. Textbook kingdom—Ian's mental image. King, vassals, peasants. Feudal like the empire, but king's power dwarfed the emperor's. Not called “king” for nothing!
“Rolang Kingdom... Belenca, isn't that your goal?”
At Kira's question, Belenca nodded. Her dad had knighted there in youth. She'd aimed to follow suit...
“Not a big deal. Long as I get paid.”
Belenca playfully poked Ian's back. “If this guy's stingy, I'll jump ship.”
“Won't stiff ya. No cash? Talian domain fairy silk'll cover it. Cool?”
“Oho. Make it a dress while you're at it.”
“Why?”
“Why d'ya think? Pretty clothes rock.”
Belenca flaunted her fairy silk hair ribbon proudly. Kira stared, mesmerized. She'd envied it forever.
“Heard even duchesses can't snag fairy silk dresses...”
Belenca chuckled. “What do you know? Ian here's loaded with the stuff.”
Ian had forgotten, but yeah, he was rich. Just in fairy silk form. Haul it to a city, sell big.
Wonder if Lucy's doing okay.
Ian stretched lazily, pondering. Post-journey pit stop at Talian domain for R&R? Not bad.
...Swing by a city, grab gifts.
Added to his shopping list: Kira's magic book. Lucy's present.
Mionia nun's gift too?
Paragar stirring war vibes? Not Ian's circus. Emperor next door? No way war sparks.
Ian gazed skyward from his donkey. Sky devoutly blue, pristine. Like watching over his trek.
The journey stayed smooth. Until past noon.
“Damn.”
Morning clear skies. Afternoon? Clouds rolled, downpour hit.
Rain? No biggie. Humans ain't sugar—don't melt.
Empire roads, though? Sugar cookies.
“Road's gone.”
“...”
Ian's path wasn't ancient Golden Empire pavejob. Holy Empire locals' handiwork. Dirt base, grass overgrowth snapping the trail sometimes. Not engineered—hiking path trampled by foot traffic.
Mud? Fine. But the river stepping stones vanishing? Ian couldn't hold back the absurdity.
“No bridges nearby, can't cross a river? Seriously?”
Seriously. Empire life (nod).
Ian considered halting the river with magic, but nah—needed a full ritual circle. Beyond his Hydrokinesis chops. Raging post-rain flow? Nature's way. Forcing it? River's mystery would sulk.
No axe murderer on his tail. No needless begs.
“Detour hunt?”
“Yeah.”
Lucky farm nearby—asked directions.
“Ah! One road exists! Stone-built, sturdy!”
100% Golden Empire road. Ian grinned wide. Classic Golden Empire! Paved for descendants (or not)!
“But tough to use.”
“Why?”
Farmer grumbled. “Lately, weirdos seized it, up to odd stuff... mph!”
Farmer belatedly clamped his mouth. Feared backlash from badmouthing armed thugs.
“Weirdos?”
“Uh, they seem... hired by big shots...”
Big shots hired one thing: mercenaries.
“What 'odd stuff' exactly?”
“Dunno even seeing it! Digging by the river? Chase off anyone close!”
Hmm. Ian nodded at the farmer's spot-on rundown. Weirdos doing weird shit. Perfection.
“Ian. What's the play?”
Belenca and Kira awaited orders.
Ian shrugged lightly. “Bridge first.”
Mage here. Tricks galore, plus mage clout. Flash the wizard card, breeze through?
Ian's crew headed for the bridge.