by Ennki Hakari
Several other countries were also interested in the elves’ abilities, but after seeing the fate that befell the Rhoden Kingdom, they were left with no option but to change tactics from trying to take what they wanted by force to opening trade relations.
The elves, however, burrowed deeper into the Great Canada Forest, refusing to trade with anyone but the Grand Duchy of Limbult. This gave the Grand Duchy the exclusive right to sell the elves’ magical goods to other countries, greatly increasing their wealth. In spite of its small size, the Grand Duchy’s power only continued to grow.
Limbult, the capital of the Grand Duchy, was built overlooking the massive port of Aldoria to the east. Ships flying the flags of countries throughout the northern continent visited the port, lending an exciting vitality to the city.
Thanks to this, Limbult boasted a larger population than even Rhoden’s capital of Olav. The city was filled with all manner of magical items obtained from the elves, which merchants from across the continent—as well as the crews that manned their ships—were constantly purchasing and reselling. The city was so busy that it could easily have been mistaken for the seat of an empire.
Limbult was also the only human city where you might actually catch a glimpse of an elf.
Amid this exciting chaos, a procession of over one hundred soldiers, some wearing unfamiliar-looking armor, marched up the roads of Limbult, leading a black, horse-drawn carriage to the palace.
The carriage carried Yuriarna Merol Melissa Rhoden Olav, the second princess of the Rhoden Kingdom. She wore her blond hair straight, with a slight curl at the tips. Her brown eyes, contrasting nicely with her snow-white skin, gazed out the window of the carriage at the bustling city of Limbult. The scenery reflected in her large eyes as it slowly passed them by.
It had been twelve days since the ambush in the forest near the Anetto Mountains.
After the ambush, the procession had sped toward Limbult, avoiding all major routes that might give their attackers a second chance. They were only slightly off schedule crossing the Librout River, which marked the border between Rhoden and Limbult.
As soon as they entered the Grand Duchy, the princess paid a visit to Marquis du Braht, who ruled the surrounding area, to explain their situation and ask for protection.
The surviving contingent of thirty guards was exhausted by the time they entered Limbult. Even if their injuries from the ambush had been miraculously healed, many of them were still without horses, and all of them had spent the rest of the trip on constant alert, watching out for a follow-up strike.
Marquis du Braht allowed Princess Yuriarna and her guards to rest at his castle while he sent a messenger off to Limbult to notify Duchess Seriarna. Three days later, the messenger returned to du Braht’s castle with the duchess’ reply and a contingent of soldiers to escort Princess Yuriarna from Braht to Limbult.
Her carriage was now crossing the massive stone bridge leading to the duke’s royal palace at the center of Limbult. A massive moat, filled with water from the nearby ocean, surrounded the palace. A number of peasants idly fishing from the sides of the bridge watched as the impressive procession rolled past.
Once across the bridge, Yuriarna finally caught sight of the pearl-white palace—the home of the duke who oversaw the entire Grand Duchy. It was absolutely stunning, sporting countless spires and intricately carved designs, its magnificence befitting the power and wealth wielded by the Grand Duchy.
Ferna spoke up from her seat beside the princess. “I see nothing has changed. It’s just as beautiful as ever.”
Yuriarna silently agreed.
The entrance to the palace came into sight—a majestic staircase, at the top of which stood a familiar figure in a blue gown flanked by guards in imposing armor.
The carriage entered the palace’s vast courtyard, coming to a stop at the base of the stairs.
Yuriarna didn’t even wait for the driver to open her door. She climbed out of the carriage herself, running up to meet the figure at the top of the stairs.
“Meria!”
“I’m glad to see you’ve arrived safely, Merol,” the woman said, using Yuriarna’s childhood nickname.
This woman was Seriarna Meria du Olav Ticient, Yuriarna’s sister, and wife to the duke of Limbult.
Seriarna came running down to Yuriarna, pulling the younger woman in for a tight hug. Tears appeared in her eyes as she looked down at her younger sister. Her hair was the same shade of blond as Yuriarna’s, tied back into a ponytail. The sisters also shared the same affectionate brown eyes.
“I’m so relieved that you’re alive…”
“I’m sorry for worrying you, Meria…”
Yuriarna’s eyes stung with barely restrained tears at her sister’s words. Seriarna pulled her in closer.
Seriarna gently caressed her sister’s hair. “When I heard you were assassinated by our stepbrother Dakares back in Rhoden, my world went dark. I thought my heart would stop right then and there.”
Yuriarna’s head bolted up. “What do you mean, Dakares?”
Seriarna looked confused. After a tense silence, she went on to explain to Yuriarna the recent events that had been going on in the Rhoden Kingdom. “I…I thought you knew. A short time ago, Dakares carried out a massive attack in the middle of Olav. He tried to murder Sekt in all of the confusion, though Sekt killed him instead, with only minimal injury to himself.”
“Then what makes you say Dakares was behind my assassination?”
“When Dakares was killed, mother’s heirloom necklace—the one you always wear—was found in his pocket. From what I heard, Dakares had ordered General Maldoira to carry out the attack on you.”
Yuriarna’s hand flew to her chest.
After the attack, she hadn’t been able to find her necklace anywhere. Too worried about a second ambush, she had put her feelings aside and decided to worry about it later.
She was filled with both a strange sense of comfort and an intense anger over hearing that it had been stolen by her brother.
“What happened to General Maldoira?” Yuriarna struggled to stay calm as she asked about the man who’d led her assassination attempt.
“As the story goes, the general was also involved in letting out the beastmen in the capital in order to cause all the chaos. His son, Lieutenant General Cetrion, struck him down then and there. Since he helped save Sekt’s life, he’s going to be the next Duke Olsterio.”
Yuriarna looked down, trying to hide the flurry of emotions racing through her mind.
Seriarna brushed a hand through her sister’s hair and pulled her close again. She whispered in Yuriarna’s ear.
“You’re alive… That’s enough for now.”
The whirlwind running through Yuriarna’s heart dissipated, replaced instead by an intense warmth. She buried her face in her beloved sister’s neck as she fought back tears.
“Thank you, Meria. But I can’t leave Sekt alone like this, or the Rhoden Kingdom will be assimilated by the Great West Revlon Empire. I need to tell Father that I’m safe and make sure that Sekt doesn’t steal the crown.”
Seriarna shook her head in response to her sister’s plan.
“I beg you, stay here for a while. Sekt is a careful man. As long as he thinks he’s the heir apparent, he won’t be in any hurry to assume the throne. If you were to return to Rhoden now, he might very well succeed in killing you a second time. He might claim that your murder was all Dakares’ plot, but we have no proof of that. And Dakares’ former supporters haven’t declared for anyone yet, so there’s a possibility that they may try to come over to your side. Sekt would be a fool to risk that.”
The worry in Seriarna’s face left Yuriarna at a loss for words. But as a member of the royal family, she couldn’t just run away. She told her sister as much, a look of unbending determination etched on her face in spite of her young age.
The duchess frowned at this. “In that case, at least fulfill the duty Father assigned you first. If you can pull that off,
then it will surely serve as a great asset to you when you return to Rhoden.”
Yuriarna nodded, then turned her head to look past the palace to the Great Canada Forest north of Limbult.
“You’re right. First, I will meet with the elves and try to open a dialogue concerning the future of our countries’ relationship. I will need your husband’s assistance, however, if we are to have any chance at success.”
Yuriarna looked back at her sister, the determination still evident in her eyes.
Duchess Seriarna smiled down at the young princess and squinted slightly, as if she were staring into a bright light.
***
The Holy Revlon Empire was located in the northeastern corner of the northern continent.
Habahren, the capital of the empire, was located at the center of its expansive territory. A picturesque city built in the midst of vast fields, Habahren was home to approximately eighty thousand people, the round, walled-off city radiating out from the castle at its center.
The castle, called Siguenza, had been built for defense rather than beauty, and had served as a fortress in the days of the old Revlon Empire.
Inside the emperor’s office, deep within Siguenza, a man with a sharp nose and muddy, reddish-brown hair sat in a chair reserved for the ruler of the empire. Domitianus Revlon Valtiafelbe, the young emperor of the Holy Revlon Empire, wore a fitted military uniform as he looked at the maps of his domain spread across his desk. His head was propped up on his fist as he gazed at the papers.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened hesitantly, and a chubby, mustached man dressed in the flashy garb of the imperial officials stepped inside. The man’s paunch swayed slightly as he walked, a shifty smirk plastered to his face.
At a glance, the man looked like any other wealthy merchant, but he was in fact the lord chancellor of the Holy Revlon Empire, charged with handling the government’s affairs. His name was Velmoas du Lyzehl.
The emperor shot the man an annoyed look. “What is it, Velmoas?”
The shifty smile never left Velmoas’ face. “Ah, yes, Your Highness. We have just received a letter from our contact in Rhoden. It seems that, um, that the successor will almost assuredly be Prince Sekt.”
“What?!” The emperor made no effort to conceal his anger at this unpleasant news, delivered by a man whose company he could hardly stand in the first place.
Velmoas, however, seemed to be used to this treatment, and carried on as if nothing had happened.
“That’s correct. Apparently, Prince Dakares had plotted to do away with Princess Yuriarna and Prince Sekt, but ultimately it was Prince Dakares himself who was killed. And at Prince Sekt’s own hand.”
“Why the hell would that idiot Dakares try to carry out such a hare-brained scheme?! No one ever ran this past me!”
Domitianus’ face contorted into a scowl as he unleashed a series of expletives about the late Prince Dakares.
“After the assassination of Marquis du Diento, perhaps his supporters’ confidence was shaken and he was desperate to get it back?”
The Lord Chancellor’s paunch jiggled slightly as he let out a crude laugh. “That’s where the elves were coming from, no? Hmm…so if Sekt is the successor, then that means their relations with the heathens in the west will strengthen and we will have an even harder time expanding south.”
Domitianus crossed his arms, glaring down at the maps in front of him.
Velmoas stroked his mustache. “The Monster Corps isn’t quite ready for deployment, but what do you think about sending them up north to Wetrias as a trial run?”
Domitianus considered this suggestion. “Hmm, you’re right. If monsters start racking up victims in Wetrias, they’ll have no choice but to move their armies along the southern border. But don’t send anything other than monsters. We don’t want them to realize we’re behind this.”
Velmoas bowed ever so slightly in acknowledgement.
“After Wetrias, I was thinking we could try scattering the ‘cultivation rune stones’ as a trial.”
“Understood. I will contact the Runeology Cloister.” Velmoas hefted his stomach and leaned in even closer, as if the two were bosom companions.
Domitianus raised his head. “Speaking of, whatever happened with Fumba?”
“Ah, yes. They have been sent to the Leibnizche region, near the Karyu Mountains. There are some particularly strong monsters active out there. According to the report I received the other day, they have already caught a five-headed hydra.”
Domitianus’ eyes went wide. “That’s…amazing. A five-headed hydra? We could easily overrun an entire town with one of those.”
The hydra was a large monster that looked like a snake with four legs. They were usually found in swamps and wetlands. The longer a hydra lived, the more heads it would grow, increasing its power by leaps and bounds with each new one. Add to that its regenerative abilities and water magic, and a hydra was a force to be reckoned with.
“Fumba has it under control for now, but they’re unable to get the employ ring onto its body due to its size. They’ll need enough rings to put one on each of its necks in order to truly get it under their control.”
“I see… In that case, have the Runeology Cloister prepare some special employ rings, and tell them to increase production of the normal ones. No matter how we plan on using the Monster Corps, we’ll need to have Fumba redouble their efforts.”
The corners of Emperor Domitianus’ lips curled up into a wide grin.
Side Story:
Lahki’s Merchant Diary, Part 2
A gentle wind blew across the empty fields under the darkening, burgundy sky, an almost lonely sound carried along with it. The Hibbot wasteland stretched off to the west as far as the eye could see, growing increasingly red as the sun set. To the east, the forests running along the base of the Calcut mountain range were already submerged in purple nightfall.
A lone horse tugged a cart down the desolate, neglected road that cut through the empty plains.
A young man with messy, light brown hair steered the cart, all the while humming cheerfully to himself.
The man was in his early- to mid-twenties and clearly took care of his appearance, though he hardly looked well-to-do. Judging by the contents crammed into his cart, anyone passing by would instantly know that he was a merchant.
A young muscular man, around the same age as the driver, walked beside the cart.
From the leather armor he wore to the simple sword at his waist and small buckler on his back, it was apparent that this young man was a mercenary. He ran a hand through his short-cropped blond hair as he surveyed their surroundings.
“Hey Lahki, the sun’s about to set. Think we’ll hit Ura anytime soon?”
The man sitting in the driver’s seat, Lahki, looked around. “Yeah, it should be pretty close. Do you want to climb aboard, Behl?”
“The cart’s already piled with goods…plus that dead weight in the back. I’d feel bad for making the poor horse take on any more.” The young mercenary, Behl, jogged past the horse, shouting his reply back over his shoulder with a laugh.
A woman lying in the back of the cart, her arms gently waving about as she stared off into nothingness, stirred at Behl’s comment. “Waitaminnit, Behl. You’re not suggesting that I’m dead weight, are you?”
The young woman was dressed in boyish clothes and wore her semi-long chestnut-colored hair tied back in a ponytail. She leaned over the side of the cart and glared at Behl.
“Hey, I never said anything about you, Rea. Why, do you think you’re dead weight?”
Rea responded to his teasing with a shrill yell. “What was that?!”
“All right, all right. Calm down, you two. I can see the village now.” Lahki admonished them in a well-practiced one.
Behl and Rea turned their attention ahead to the faint outline of the town up ahead.
Behl let out a sigh. “Finally. Why do things look so diffe
rent on the east and west sides of the Calcut Mountains?”
Rea nodded in agreement and held up her waterskin, giving it a shake to check its contents.
“I know. I left with a full waterskin this morning, and it’s already empty. Let’s hurry into town before the sun sets.”
There were two routes—east or west around the Calcut mountain range—available to those wishing to travel from Luvierte to the capital.
The east route traveled along the Lydel River and the vast, fertile fields that bordered it. Due to this, there were many villages and towns along the way, and a constant stream of traffic.
Lahki and his crew, however, had taken the western route due to its more direct path and thus shorter travel time. However, since the fields on this side were unsuitable for farming, there were few settlements. The distances between one village and the next were vast, and they rarely encountered anyone else along the way, despite this being an official road maintained by the kingdom.
There was also little in the way of animal life as a result of the harsh living conditions, though anyone who took this to mean that there were also few monsters would be sorely mistaken. In addition to the creatures that occasionally came out of the forests near the base of the Calcut Mountains, there were also incredibly powerful monsters living in the Hibbot wasteland that would sometimes roam all the way to the road. The western route was the more dangerous of the two, and required constant vigilance.
Its saving grace, at least, was that you were highly unlikely to encounter any bandits here, which was a major issue along the eastern side.
Once they got a little closer to the village, fields of beans, millet, and other hardy crops suitable for dry weather came into view. The village was surrounded by an empty moat and a wall made of sandbags, put in place by its inhabitants in a desperate attempt to protect what was theirs.
Lahki took a small path off the main road and through the fields to get to the village entrance. Villagers nearby watched with wonder as the party approached, whispering among themselves. They seemed eager to discover what was in the cart, since a merchant’s arrival was a rare occurrence.
