Hospitality

As they drew near the capital, the first thing to meet his eyes was the procession of the crowd.

Towering walls. Beneath the immense gate, people stood in a line so long that joining it now offered no certainty of getting inside before the day was out. A separate entrance did exist beside it, reserved for the nobility alone — but a capital draws folk from every corner of the realm, and that lane was no better, choked with a long file of carriages.

He had expected entry to take a considerable while. He learned soon enough that he was entirely wrong.

"This way, please. As for the robe... keep it on for now."

Khalifa had dropped her disguise and revealed her uniform, and now she ignored the queue altogether, making straight for the head of the inspection line. Rian followed with a doubtful look, only half convinced. In his experience, nobles flew into a rage the moment they decided they had been slighted.

And yet, even as Khalifa cut the line in plain sight, not a soul stepped forward. No one so much as opened their mouth. They only bowed their heads and stared at the ground as she passed.

...Fair enough. In her own right, she is one of the few great powers even the empire's inner circle can count on its fingers.

There was nothing strange about it. She had kept so low a posture before him that his sense of her standing had dulled for a moment — but across this vast empire, those who stood higher than she did were few enough to number on one hand.

When they reached the gate, the guards conducting the inspection cried out and saluted as one.

"Glory to the Empire!"

Khalifa returned a brief salute and came straight to the point.

"Glory to the Empire. Have a carriage prepared. We leave for the imperial palace at once."

"At once!"

The guards moved as a single body, and before a minute had passed they brought a carriage around — a gray iron coach drawn by a black horse clad in plate. The man who appeared to be the driver stepped forward and called out.

"Glory to the Empire! It is an honor to convey you!"

Khalifa climbed aboard with scarcely a reply. Rian followed, looking faintly flustered.

A short while later the carriage set off toward the palace. Rian lowered the hood he had kept pulled low and regarded Khalifa with a look that was more than a little incredulous. Whether she caught the meaning in that gaze or not, her ears flushed red.

"I... when I first came out of the forest, I wasn't used to it either... The empire's discipline is just that strict..."

She was rambling.

"...I didn't say anything."

"...Yes."

She fanned herself with one hand as she went on.

"Ahem. Travel above a certain altitude is forbidden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the capital, so please bear with the slower pace. Ignoring the rule wouldn't matter much, but we're concealing who we are for the moment."

"I understand. A comfortable ride is fine."

Rian turned his gaze out the window.

The broad avenue teemed with passersby, yet not a single scrap of litter could be found on the ground, and the buildings that rose without end were uniform in their dark, colorless tones. It was unmistakably different from the cities they had passed on the way here. Drakenheim wore the empire's character more plainly than anywhere else — the extreme creed that strength alone governs all.

I don't care for it... but they didn't become a great empire for nothing.

He had to admit it. There was a reason Drakess, once nothing more than an ordinary kingdom, had in a matter of decades remade itself into a great empire ruling half the continent. The name Sanctuary of Blood, Iron, and Fire had not been given lightly.

They cut swiftly down the avenue and arrived at the imperial palace. A carriage could go only as far as the approach to the inner castle; beyond that, they would have to walk. Nearly at their destination, Khalifa asked whether it would be all right to shake off the fatigue of the journey before going to see the emperor. Rian had been on the move without rest and felt grimy himself, so he had no reason to refuse.

They passed through the gardens and stepped down from the carriage, and a vast citadel of ink-black stone filled his view. Attendants already waiting before it bowed their heads. Among them, a woman with her hair neatly swept back stepped forward.

"Lady Khalifa, I was told you left in haste on urgent business. Was the matter resolved well?"

"Yes. It's done."

"Welcome back. And... who might this be?"

The woman's eyes went to Rian, standing behind her. He had covered his face again upon leaving the carriage, so it was only natural she did not recognize him.

Khalifa stepped close and whispered in her ear. In an instant, shock she could not hide filled the woman's eyes as she looked at Rian. The surprise lasted only a moment. She gathered herself at once and bowed deeply.

"It is an honor to meet you. I am Meirin, chief attendant of the imperial household. For as long as you remain, I will do everything in my power to see that you want for nothing."

"Sir Rian, she's someone you can trust. The palace maids are thoroughly vetted, so there's no fear of word leaking anywhere. I need to make my report first, so I'll step away for a bit. Please rest."

Khalifa inclined her head, turned, and went another way. Rian followed Meirin's lead deeper into the castle.

Within, as without, the corridors were steeped in black. Bright lamps hung overhead and ornaments of every kind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lined the walls between them, so the place did not feel truly dark — yet that distinctive chill still hung in the air. When Meirin's guidance brought him to the door of a certain room, however, Rian could not help opening his eyes wide.

Unlike the dim corridor, the scene within was entirely different. The walls were bright, a vase on the table held flowers arranged in vivid harmony, and the snow-white bedding was so clean that not a speck of dust could be found.

"This room is given to honored guests of the imperial palace. Please make free use of it for the duration of your stay."

She went on.

"I was told you came a long way without rest. Shall I have a meal prepared?"

"...No. I'd like a bath first."

Rian answered awkwardly. As a rule he dropped formality only when facing villains; even with commoners, he tended to speak politely. Spitting plain speech at someone on a first meeting was simply too rude, wasn't it? For that reason he had begun by addressing Meirin with respect as well.

The moment the words left his mouth, she went white and bowed, begging him to speak down to her.

In the end Rian had no choice but to nod. When he first met Khalifa he had taken her for an enemy and offered her no courtesy, and somehow that manner had simply continued. Mixing polite speech for one person and plain speech for another was awkward in its own way. Given the empire's nature — a place where rank was fixed beyond question — such things, it seemed, had to be clear.

Well... it can't be helped.

Having resolved to turn to the empire, he would have to grow used to the difference in custom, awkward or not. Or so he told himself. The resolve did not last even a few minutes.

"I told you plainly I would wash alone."

"But..."

"I won't hear any argument."

Bang!

Shaking off the maids' hands, Rian hurried into the bath and shut the door. Men and women were different under heaven. How could he bare himself before people with whom he shared no relation at all? In the kingdom, it was true, some royals and nobles left even their bathing entirely to maidservants. Rian, born a commoner, had never known anything of the sort.

"I'm not used to this..."

He meant it literally. Even in the days when he wandered the eastern kingdoms as the Hero, the kings had only ever given him work. Not once had they received him as an honored guest. Washing in the cold water of whatever stream or valley he happened upon had been his daily life.

"Hah..."

When he dipped a hand into the tub, the water was warmed to exactly the pleasant degree. Lifting it again brought up the flower petals strewn thick across the surface, along with the foam of the bath salts. Along one wall stood three bottles of scented oil that looked expensive at a glance. Rian covered his eyes with both hands. Never in his life had he known luxury like this.

"I really am not used to this..."

One way or another he finished bathing, changed, and came out to find a meal waiting. The table was packed so full its legs might have buckled, laden without a gap with every kind of dish — meat of the land, the sea, and the air alike. What to eat first? After a moment's thought, Rian took the piece of steak set nearest him and put it in his mouth.

"......!!"

When he came back to himself, every dish on the table had been cleaned away. He had eaten all of that food by himself. Rian smacked his lips in a daze. It was a delicacy of an entirely different order from the stone-hard bread and scraps of jerky that had been his staple, or the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rabbit he had hunted and roasted in haste.

Meirin, waiting at his side, asked,

"Shall I bring more?"

"...No. I'm fine."

"The head chef would be overjoyed to know you enjoyed his cooking, Sir Rian."

"...Then just one more spread."

Only after he had cleared the table twice more could he finally bring the meal to an end. Meirin then said she would withdraw so he might rest, and that he should ring the bell if he needed anything, and left the room.

Feeling oddly dazed, Rian perched on the bed — and was startled all over again. The touch was so soft he briefly wondered whether he had climbed onto a cloud. In his days as the Hero, sleeping with a tree trunk for a backrest wherever the road took him had been ordinary. Even when he stayed in a city, he spent most nights on the hard bed of whatever inn he walked into.

This was the first time he had laid himself on a bed so soft. The give of it was such that sinking into the mattress the moment he lay down would not have seemed strange at all.

...Does someone raised as hard as I was even have the right to enjoy a thing like this?

He knew it by instinct. The instant he lay back, a comfort beyond words would take him, and he would fall straight into a deep sleep. The pillow, looking downy and soft, seemed to tempt him to set his head on it at once. Rian stared blankly at the bed, then suddenly gave a start.

"...No. I was nearly bewitched just now. Rian, get a hold of yourself."

He struck his own cheek, repeating his name so he would not let his guard down.

He had come over after receiving the empire's offer of recruitment, yes, but nothing was settled yet. All he had been given was a suggestion: the Alliance's treatment left much to be desired, so why not cross to an empire that, more than anyone, knew how to value talent?

They had not discussed the details. What the empire truly wanted of him — why it would recruit him even at the cost of abandoning the lifelong ambition of unifying the continent — he still did not know at all.

Above all, what waited beyond this was a private audience with the emperor. Whether one liked the man or not, he was a conqueror who would remain in history. Compare a map of the continent from a few decades ago with the one of today, and the fact was plain at once. As the founding emperor of the empire, he would possess a depth of calculation that an ordinary man could not even approach.

Even this excessive hospitality might be meant to loosen his guard before the meeting. Let his caution slip for a single moment, and he would be led about and swallowed whole.

It was in the moment he swore once more to keep his wits about him that someone knocked at the door.

"Come in."

He had thought it was Meirin. To his surprise, the one who opened the door was not her, but Khalifa.

"Are you resting well?"

"I am. The room is good."

"I'm glad it suits you. More to the point — do you have a moment?"

"A moment? I've nothing to do, so it hardly matters, but why do you... Ah."

He broke off and looked at Khalifa as if to say it couldn't be. She smiled as if to confirm that it could, and said,

"Yes. His Majesty wishes to see you."

"...We'll go at once."

Sitting and puzzling all day over the emperor's intentions would yield no answer from someone who barely knew the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man. He would have to meet him and ask. There was a saying, after all — strike while the iron is hot. Putting a hard thing off helped nothing. Better to get it over with.

Rian rose from the bed and, following Khalifa's lead, stepped out into the corridor.