In truth, save for those who had engaged in trade, this was the first time most of them had ever crossed the borders of Bariel. This even included Jin, the Emperor himself. While Mariv had embarked on a grand tour during his youth as Crown Prince, Jin had never been afforded such an opportunity. A strange cocktail of tension, excitement, and awe at having finally left Bariel settled over the army, and they marched forward with renewed vigor.
“Ah, hell. There’s nothing to see out here but rocky mountains,” Beric grumbled, hanging halfway out the carriage window as he watched the scenery pass with a thoroughly bored expression. It was a desolate landscape, truly devoid of even a single blade of grass.
A member of the Astana delegation urged his horse closer, pulling up alongside the carriage. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Barely,” Beric replied. “Haven’t been eating right, so I don’t feel like my old self.”
“We will soon reach the rendezvous point with the Astanian army, so please bear with it just a little longer. And, Sir Ian.” The emissary leaned in, peering into the carriage. Ian looked up from the report he was focused on, and the man gave him a subtle, secretive glance. “His Majesty, the King, requests a private audience.”
“Understood. I will call on him when the carriage stops.”
“Very well.”
A private audience with Hasha? What could it be about? Ian tilted his head in brief speculation, but let the thought go. Just as he was about to lift his pen again—
Bwoooooo— Bwooo—
From the far distance, the clear, powerful call of a water buffalo horn echoed across the plains. It was the signal: the Astana reinforcements were in sight.
The soldiers, who hadn’t had a proper rest since crossing the border, let out a collective, ragged cheer. The Astana delegation exclaimed in relief.
“Ugh, finally! We can stretch out and sleep!”
“Tell me about it. I thought I was going to die these past few days.”
“Hohoho… At this rate, I’m worried I’ll get sick before we even storm Burgos. Hahaha!”
“But… wait, is that supposed to be the Astana support force?”
“Huh? Are they kidding?”
The group approaching numbered about a hundred, at a glance. Most appeared to be unarmed, and there were even figures that looked suspiciously like children mixed in. While it was possible they were like Katimako, whose appearance was deceiving, the first impression was far from grand. They looked more like a column of refugees than a support army. A wave of disappointed murmurs rippled through the Bariel soldiers.
“Get the Astana emissary over here! Confirm if that is the support army!” The Bariel officers were just as bewildered, but they calmly kept the column in order, their eyes fixed intently on the approaching group.
Fwip! As if in response to their unasked question, the group waved a large Astana flag, as if to tell them not to worry.
And just then, the ground began to tremble.
Th-th-thud! Rumble!
“W-What is that?”
“It’s an earthquake! An earthquake!”
Having just endured the crisis at the northern rift, the mages and the Imperial Guard instinctively flared their mana, their bodies tensing for a fight. But the figures that revealed themselves next were not monsters.
“W-Woah!”
“Are those… Golems?”
They were colossal golems. What the soldiers had mistaken for foothills or parts of the rocky mountains were, in fact, their heads. Now, immense hands and feet, previously hidden, unfolded from the earth. There were five in total. The hundred or so mages and also necromancers, all seemed to be casting their spells in unison, as the stone giants moved in perfect, measured formation.
“They are creatures that lived beneath the Astana cliffs. We succeeded in subjugating and taming them,” the Astana emissary explained, his chest swelling with pride. “Their nature makes them highly susceptible to our spells. There are only five, but I assure you, they will staunchly protect the front and rear of the Bariel army.”
In truth, that group of a hundred necromancers represented nearly every person Astana could conscript; they were, after all, a tribal nation.
Neigh!
“Halt!”
“All units, halt!”
As the flags were raised, the long procession slowly ground to a stop. The closer they got, the more impossibly large the golems seemed. The soldiers could only stare, dumbfounded, while the Astana necromancers approached with welcoming smiles.
“Welcome! This is Astana!”
“Oh, Pekuriren!”
“Lord Katimako! You’ve endured much!”
“You’ve arrived just in time. Well done.”
“Yes, of course. Where is His Majesty?”
The sight of an ancient man, who looked as if he might draw his last breath at any second, bowing with such deep respect to the child-sized Katimako, was jarring. The cognitive dissonance was so strong that the Bariel soldiers quickly averted their eyes, pretending to be fascinated by the golems’ stone feet.
“Pekuriren.”
“Your Majesty!”
“Show your respects. This is His Majesty, the Emperor of the great Bariel Empire.”
As Hasha introduced Jin, all the necromancers knelt with pious reverence. Thump. Even the stone heads of the giant golems swiveled and dipped in a shallow bow.
“They are magnificent,” Jin murmured, craning his neck to look up at them. He estimated they were tall enough to easily reach the midpoint of the Tower. It was astonishing that Astana possessed such weapons, and it made him reconsider the potential of the northern mages.
“Does this mean the other northern mages can control such things as well?”
“Creatures on the level of these golems are difficult to find, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, we are confident. In all the northern territories, there is no tribe of mages greater than Astana.”
“Hearing your confidence is indeed reassuring.” As Jin spoke, his eyes met Ian’s. It was a silent order: Anticipate the possibility of other monsters being mobilized, and prepare for it.
“Is this… Sir Ian?”
“Yes. I am Ian Hielo, Minister of Magic.”
“Oh! Good heavens!”
While Ian had politely extended a hand, the necromancers, heedless of decorum, rushed forward and embraced him, overwhelmed with gratitude. The Bariel mages stared, mouths agape, and quickly moved to pull them off.
“What do you think you’re doing? You’re startling Lord Ian!”
“Is this how you greet people in Astana?”
“Ah, our apologies! We were just so happy…”
“…Have we met before?” Ian searched his memory but came up empty.
They didn’t seem offended in the slightest, immediately grasping his hands again. “Back then, my family was rescued from the merchant caravan with His Majesty… that is, Lord Hasha… and returned to Astana! We always said we wanted to thank you properly one day, and to have it happen like this… we are truly moved.”
“My younger brother was with them!”
“You not only saved them, but you gave them travel expenses, didn’t you? Because of you, everyone returned safely. Thank you. From the bottom of our hearts.”
It wasn’t just Hasha; a considerable number of people had returned to Astana that day. All of them, directly or indirectly, were indebted to Ian.
Ian lightly patted the backs of their hands in reply. “It is undeserved. I am now in service to the Bariel Imperial Palace. Please, turn all feelings you have for me toward the Empire. That alone would bring me complete joy.”
“Yes! Of course!” The hands grasping his tightened with loyalty.
Just then, Beric threw open the carriage door. Clutching his still-healing side, he walked right up to the nearest golem and began sniffing its leg. “It doesn’t smell alive. Is it really a monster?”
“You can think of it as a doll,” one of the necromancers said. “It is an existence with only a will, no ego. Once a spell is cast, it’s not easily broken, making it simple to control. But… who are you?”
“Me? Beric.”
“Beric! Oh! Lord Beric!”
“Who? Lord Beric?”
Beric smirked at the unexpected reaction. Come to think of it, wasn’t I there too when Ian saved those Astanians?
“The Lord Beric who came looking for Lord Hasha and got captured with him?”
“That’s right! That’s him! The one who couldn’t write, so Lord Hasha had to dictate the letter for him!”
“You crazy bastards! That’s not it! I wasn’t captured, I was just staying there! As a guest! Until Ian arrived!”
“Yes, yes. Of course. We know.”
“Then why are you making that face? Say ‘thank you’ to me, too!”
“Ah… apologies, but I’m not very good at lying.”
Seeing Beric raging like an angry dog, it was clear no one needed to worry about the wound in his stomach.
The Astana mages turned their attention from Beric. “By the way, did something happen to the vanguard? They were supposed to pass this way, but we never saw them. We thought we’d missed them. If you hadn’t sent the messenger hawk, we would have been confused.”
“There were… complications. First…” Ian gestured to the surrounding army. “Your Majesty, the soldiers are fatigued. Why don’t we make an early camp here today and depart tomorrow?”
“Good. We also need to reorganize the procession with the Astana forces.”
“At this pace, we can cross the Burgos border within three days. We’re behind schedule, but it’s acceptable.”
“Meaning there are no issues with food supply?”
“Correct.”
With everyone in agreement, they decided not to press on. Tents began to spring up beneath the towering golems. The Bariel soldiers, initially fearful, quickly grew accustomed to them and milled about their feet.
“So what’s its weak point? The head?”
“A golem is a collection of thoughts in an inanimate object. Even if one part is broken, its movement won’t be impaired.”
Oho. No weak points? Now that’s interesting. Beric lightly punched the golem’s leg.
Clank.
The golem slowly turned its massive head to look down at him.
“What’re you looking at?”
In response, the golem slowly raised its hand. A massive shadow fell over them, and dirt that had collected on its shoulder crumbled to the ground. What? Beric and the other soldiers tensed at the sudden movement, but only for a moment.
The golem stopped… with its middle finger raised high in the air.
***
Crackle, crackle…
“We have a grave problem!”
At the sudden commotion, the key figures of the anti-royalist faction glanced at the man sitting across from them. With a long tobacco pipe and his hair tied up messily, Rutherford was calmly examining a map. Such a vulgar interruption…
“What is so important that you must make such a fuss?”
“It appears… the Atan tribe that advanced into Bariel has been annihilated. We’ve lost all contact, and not a single messenger hawk has returned.”
“What? Did you say… annihilated?”
“Yes. And there are reports of a massive geological upheaval in the northern region, but as for that—”
“The Rift,” Rutherford interjected quietly, tapping the ash from his pipe. “The signal from the god that the Rift has opened. That is nothing to worry about. However, if the Atan tribe was wiped out, their opponent must have also suffered considerable damage, no?”
“We are trying to ascertain, but it is not easy to approach. The main Bariel army’s march seems to be unaffected.”
“Oho! This is… For those renowned masters to be wiped out… What should we do?”
“I simply don’t understand. Weren’t they mages and magic swordsmen themselves? To die so futilely…”
“They were beasts from the start. I told you, did I not? We should never have placed any expectations on them. It is fine. This is a matter between Burgos and Bariel. The Atan were merely a pretext. Consider them well-annihilated.”
“Yes, but still—”
While the faction members bickered, Rutherford continued to draw on his pipe. Contrary to his calm, placid gaze, the way he ground the stem between his teeth seemed intensely agitated.
“…None of you need to worry.”
The god had not yet given any response. If there were a problem, He would have provided an answer. This was proof that his plan was proceeding without issue, and that there was no need to waver.
“Our lands and people are already suffering from the civil war. Even if a major battle breaks out, it must take place outside of Burgos.”
“A most astute observation!”
“It is confirmed that the Emperor and his entire inner circle have left the Imperial Palace. Let us proceed with our own work.”
“Ah, yes. We have already found a suitable candidate.”
Swish.
One of the anti-royalist members slid a report over to Rutherford.
“An individual specialized in assassination. He will have no problem taking King Damon’s life.”
One of the main reasons the royalist faction was holding together was the survival of King Damon. Whether he wished it or not, he carried the blood of the Burgos royal family and had forged a connection with Bariel. But if Damon died?
‘The royalists’ solidarity will shatter, and the entirety of Burgos will rise up to oppose Bariel.’
Rutherford nodded as he read the report, as if satisfied.
“Send this man.”