Chapter 50
The bustling streets of the imperial capital were on a completely different scale compared to smaller cities.
Wide, smooth boulevards accommodating two-way carriage traffic, lined on both sides with stalls selling all sorts of goods. Buildings and shops so tall it was hard to find a single-story structure. And crowds of people, each with their own purpose, milling about.
“Wow, a country bumpkin like me would be scared of getting lost from their mother in a place like this,” Skull muttered, awestruck by the vast and complex cityscape before him.
“I know. Even I’m having trouble adjusting after being away for so long,” Sian agreed, clicking her tongue. The people walking the capital’s streets were uniformly noble, their attire polished and refined.
The mercenary group Dragon’s Claw had also dressed up to the best of their ability for their visit to the capital, but they couldn’t match those born in the city. The group led by Sian exuded a palpable air of rural origin as they stood gawking.
“The palace is just beyond this main street. Everyone, prepare yourselves mentally. It’s going to be a more suffocating experience than you might expect,” Carl said, scanning Sian and her group as they stood at the entrance to the bustling area.
“Do we really need mental preparation? Can’t we just keep our mouths shut and look small?” one of them asked.
“That’s right. What Carl means is to be prepared to keep your mouths ‘firmly’ shut and look small. Don’t even think about mentioning you’re mercenaries. Got it?” Sian warned sternly. The mercenaries exchanged glances and nodded.
“Alright, one last check. What’s my name?” Sian quizzed them.
“Uhh… Heil… Heili, was it?” Bill stumbled over his answer in this final mock test before entering the palace. Sian’s eyes narrowed at the uncertain response.
“Haley Dude! Descendant of an old baronial family with a small estate on the border of Ivarid, but the family line was cut off when the entire family died in a carriage accident!” Dr. Zivago, who had sharpened his mind through medical studies, raised his hand and answered clearly. Sian’s expression finally relaxed a bit.
“When the carriage accident happened, Baron Dude had a very young daughter. That daughter couldn’t properly inherit the title, barely maintaining the hollow barony without any actual territory. I’m the daughter of the son of her son. I’m an only child, and my parents passed away early. You are my retainers, and we’ve followed the prince here after coincidentally saving him from the brink of death. Make sure you have this firmly in your heads!”
“It’s too complicated, sis…” Skull whined with a pained expression. Sian clicked her tongue in disapproval.
“If you can’t remember it all, just remember that my name is Haley Dude and you’re the descendants of my few remaining retainers. Those who are completely confused, just pretend you can’t understand!”
“Understood,” Max answered on behalf of the group. Sian could somewhat trust Max and Dr. Zivago, but the rest were utterly unreliable. She eyed the mercenaries with an anxious, doubtful gaze.
Carl watched Sian and her group bickering and gave a short, meaningless laugh.
“Well, if we’re all settled, let’s get going. It’ll take quite a walk just to get through this busy area.”
“But is it okay for us to go looking like this? Don’t we need to dress up to go to the palace? We look even more countrified than the common folk here…” Rune asked, his confidence crushed by the refined appearance of the city people.
“How refined do you think the retainers of a fallen noble family would look? This is fine as it is,” Sian flatly dismissed Rune’s concerns.
“…Wait a moment,” Carl, who had been quietly listening, furrowed his brow as if something had occurred to him. His gaze fell not on the mercenaries, whose dark, tanned skin clearly marked them as outdoor laborers, but on Sian.
“The others probably don’t need any extra adornment, but…”
Carl looked Sian up and down, from head to toe.
“Don’t you look a bit too valiant for a fallen noble who saved and got engaged to a prince?”
Sian blinked at Carl’s words. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail for ease of movement, a sword belt hung proudly at her waist, and yet she hadn’t given up on her smooth makeup, earrings, necklace, and rings.
Sian looked herself over with an awkward expression and tugged at her shirt hem, asking, “Is that so?”
“We should add more to your backstory. Now that we’ve come this far, let’s increase the authenticity.”
“How?” Sian asked, her eyes wide as she looked at Carl.
* * *
It was a beautiful day. The sky was a pure blue without a single cloud, and the weather was neither too hot nor too cold—perfect for a picnic.
The imperial guards protecting the palace where the Emperor of Igrion and the royal family resided stood like statues, their expressions and postures unchanging even in such pleasant weather.
It was an unremarkable afternoon. The soldiers would guard the palace gates for their assigned time and then be relieved by the next shift. But as always, the unexpected arrives without warning or premonition.
The sound of horse hooves and carriage wheels on the well-paved road grew closer to the palace gates. The guards turned their eyes to watch the carriage heading straight for the palace.
At first glance, there was nothing special about the carriage pulled by a single brown horse. It was a rental carriage, the kind sometimes used by middle to lower-ranking nobles from distant estates when visiting the capital.
All carriages operating with royal permission were painted silver, the Empire’s representative color. However, the guards soon noticed something slightly unusual about this approaching rental carriage.
The horse seemed unusually exhausted. Although its legs showed prominent muscles as it stepped forward vigorously, its approach was oddly slow. As if it had been traveling for a long time or pulling something very heavy, both the horse and the coachman’s faces were already full of fatigue.
Though it wasn’t a cargo wagon, the slow-approaching carriage came to a precise stop in front of the palace’s main gate, following the coachman’s guidance. The coachman’s expression was full of barely concealed dissatisfaction and irritation.
“Don’t step on me!”
“Ow! My leg, my leg!”
“You’re tearing my clothes, you bastard!”
The inside of the carriage was in uproarious, albeit muffled, chaos. In truth, it had been like this the entire journey.
“We have arrived, passengers,” the coachman announced, clearing his throat loudly. Despite his disgruntled expression, he maintained a strictly professional and polite tone.
The palace guards, who were not permitted to show any expression while on duty, couldn’t help but let their eyes waver at the sight of the stopped carriage shaking violently.
“Get out, I said get out!”
“The door won’t open!”
“Stop stepping on me, ow!”
What on earth could be inside?
The guards’ eyes filled with tension. The carriage windows were covered with curtains, completely obscuring the interior. But judging from the pitch-black darkness beyond the curtains and the carriage’s continuous shaking, it was clear that something extraordinary was inside.
“Passengers! We’ve arrived!” the coachman called out, his voice and expression beginning to show irritation as his professional demeanor crumbled.
Just then, the carriage fell silent for a moment. And then the door burst open.
“Ah, you’ll break the door!” the coachman snapped as the carriage door flew open with a bang. A flood of people poured out.
“Damn it, I told you we should have rented another carriage!”
“Do you think money grows on trees?! We have nothing!”
Two men tumbled out almost simultaneously, as if rolling out. The guards’ tension seemed misplaced, as the appearance of those who disembarked clearly showed they were not from the capital.
Two more followed, then another two. A total of eight people, as far as the guards could count, had piled out of a carriage meant for four passengers.
It was astonishing how so many people had fit inside.
The guards were beginning to wonder if this was some kind of circus troupe when yet another person emerged from the carriage.
This one was a tall, handsome man who was clearly of noble birth. As soon as he got out, he heaved a sigh that seemed to sink into the ground and began tidying up his disheveled clothes and hair.
After grooming himself back to a presentable state, the man reached his hand towards the carriage door one last time. Another person stepped out.
The guards’ eyes shook as if an earthquake had struck. It was a woman. With her face covered by a black veil, the woman gracefully descended, holding the man’s outstretched hand with one of hers while the other carefully grasped her long skirt. It was Sian, who had earlier exclaimed about money not growing on trees.
“Well done,” said Carl, the man exuding noble refinement, as he escorted Sian and handed a money pouch to the coachman. The coachman glared intensely at Carl before snatching the pouch.
“Next time, stick to the passenger limit!” the coachman snapped irritably as he climbed back onto the carriage. Without even bothering to close the open door, he whipped the horse and the carriage disappeared in a flash, as if fleeing the scene.
…What on earth?
If the guards had been permitted to speak, they would undoubtedly have muttered in bewilderment.
Fully aware that they had made quite a spectacle, Carl cleared his throat unnecessarily. Leaving Sian and her fake retainers behind as they caught their breath in the fresh air, he approached the guards.
“Relay this to His Highness the Crown Prince,” the noble (presumably) from the circus-like group said in a low voice. The guard’s eyes widened in astonishment at this unexpected request.
“Tell him that Carlston Klaus, the lord of Ivarid, has arrived with proof of innocence from the Dragon’s Temple.”
The storm had arrived without warning.
* * *
