-Larak Empire


    Imperial Palace-


    "Prince Bishon, is there still no response from the Adiand Emperor?"


    Currently, Prince Bishon is talking to his father, the Emperor.


    His dark brown eyes lowered, "Apologize, Your Majesty; no letter has been received so far."


    "And did you find the culprit who injured your men?"


    "We are still tryi--!"


    Clang.


    "Useless dimwit."


    "..."


    Bishon bit his inner cheek. The golden sceptre was thrown directly at his head, hitting the side of his face with a strong force that blood gradually dripped from the side of his brow.


    Endure. Let''s endure for now.


    "Apologize, Your Majesty. Give us another week, and surely we will find the culprit."


    The Emperor scowled, "Three days. Now, leave."


    "Understood."


    As the door to the Emperor''s throne closed, Bishon''s servile expression turned jubilant.


    Finally, out of that old hag''s rubbish aisle.


    Bishon got inside his carriage, and a cloak was already on her seat. "To the Manor."


    "Yes, Your Grace."


    Yet just as the carriage starts to move, a baritone voice calls out, "Bishon."


    The smile on Bishon''s lips twitched, "Ah, Commander Alastair, how may I be of assistance?"


    A muscled man with a height of 7 feet stared directly at him, the scar on the edge of his lips going down to the nape of his neck till it could not be seen. It made Bishon irritated, yet he smiled fakingly.


    "There is no evidence that the Adiand Empire had been onsight when we were travelling. The bandits have no insignia or mark representing their organization. The weapons are not made of high quality."


    "Commander, haven''t you told me that already?"


    What are you trying to say now?


    "Be careful."


    Commander Altair warned and strolled away.


    Bishon snickered, "...oddball. Let''s go!"


    "Y-Yes, Your Grace."


    When they arrived at the manor, Bishon entered an adjacent room beside his chamber. Books were scattered everywhere, and torn pieces of paper flew to and fro as his wide window opened.


    "There''s no trace...no trace at all."


    Books of different herbs and flowers piled up on his table.


    There were many medicinal books on his shelves and pictures containing spices with different properties from different regions and kingdoms.


    "Hahhhh."


    Bishon lay down.


    The trip to the Adiand Empire was both relieving and disheartening. He couldn''t find any other information for medicinal herbs as they were delayed and were always watched by nobles, yet few came to talk with them. If this was on another empire, almost all noble families would rush up to them.


    He searched for someone, yet he was not granted any audience.


    "Such despicable manner. It''s all their Emperor''s fault."


    Bishon gritted his teeth.


    "The culprit is still unknown, but that doesn''t mean there''s really no trace. Men."


    Two masked men went down from the window.


    "Greetings, Your Grace."


    "Bring this letter to the Curtain Veil. Tell them I''m patient enough to wait for the appropriate time; just don''t make it too lengthy."


    Bishon smiled enthusiastically. "Let''s have a humble play, only a small bit."


    It can''t be helped. Since there has still been no response from the Adiand Emperor about a cooperative partnership, then having an alternative is always the best method to go about things you want to achieve.


    "Understood."


    "Go."


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.***


    "Have you heard about what the Emperor is doing lately?"


    The man asked while pouring another rum for his friend. These days, the inn they used to go to has hosted more customers as gossip rang.


    "I just got back from the neighbouring kingdom. How would I know?"


    The man leaned in and said faintly, "Don''t you think we will be at war again?"


    "Eh, what do you say that? Haven''t our Empire been at peace with other Empires and Kingdoms for years."


    "You see, the Emperor opened his door to the palace. He even gave permission for the nobles to use his banquet."


    "What!"


    His companion gaped in shock.


    The last time this happened was before the war. It was always before the war that banquets in the palace happened. Even the previous Emperor. Though there was a taboo with one of the banquets, it faded over time until no one knew the truth.


    "Should we train now?"


    It was by far known by the people that the palace, even before, was closed to his people, noble or not, and if it opened, either if it had a profound reason.


    More so, when the young Emperor had his first banquet, it was also the day he departed with the soldiers to declare war. There was never a ''normal'' ball in this Empire.


    "I think so too. Look, even the quiet and peaceful Dukedom of Yushon sent their talented son inside the palace."


    "This is bad!"


    The citizens pay close attention to any ripples of the Empire, and knowing one of the talented families entering the palace not as a servant, there must be something brewing.


    "Or maybe because they''ve noticed how other nearby empires keeping an eye on us began to do something in the outskirts of the provinces?"


    The man sighed, agreeing with his companion.


    "Those Atu Tribe just don''t stop with their barbaric doings."


    "Indeed, two of Aidand''s pathways on the western outskirts have been blocked by humongous trees. It''s obvious it''s them."


    "You must have taken the longer path then."


    "Indeed, the soldiers are stringent with whoever comes from the outside. Now, only if you are truly a resident of the Empire would you be able to enter."


    "Well, this empire has always been uncompromising with outsiders."


    "Mhmmm."


    A sigh escaped both of their lips, looking at their rum.


    "For gaieties."


    "For gaieties."


    Gulp.


    "Frankly, I''m a bit anxious too."


    Said the young man.


    As a former knight who had joined the Emperor in the war years ago and witnessed the bloodbath of thousands of men dying, whether it was an enemy or their own, it was still a numerous death of people. He might still be a knight without the right arm being gone. However, who will say if they need more of the Adiand people? He readily won''t refuse.


    Understanding the thought of his companion, the man chuckled, patting his shoulder, "Our Empire may be close to other empires and viewed to have lesser lands, but aren''t we powerful."


    "Yeah, that''s because of that tyrant child."


    The young man can''t help but grumble. That child is too frightening on the battlefield and even in his palace. Even thinking about him makes a strong impression, but it''s not a good impression at all.


    "Hey, don''t say that. Isn''t that why all the empires, even the most powerful Fidorin Empire, do not mess with us easily?"


    "Well, that''s true. The Adiand is also the oldest Empire established by all the lands."


    "Mhmmm. It would be good if the Adiand heirs stopped their merciless killing."


    But even a stronghold empire can have its flaws. That''s why no matter how peaceful the Empire is, the citizens still can''t help but be wary of what will happen day by day. It was known by all how much the imperial people were cold-blooded rulers. Protected but feared by all.


    "Enough about that, let''s have more rum!"


    "Aye!"


    The two men continued to drink, not knowing that a young man near them had heard their conversation clearly. Paying in silver, Moran put his veil over his head and left the tavern.


    The midnight sky didn''t deter most people, as most were still in the streets. A night full of glow with brilliant lamps and torches, knights patrolling in different areas and strangers passing by. Entering an alley that he is familiar with, going deeper into the aisle, turning left, and fitting, climbing up some dilapidated stares, Moran arrives at a street only known by people doing illegal acts.


    The broken cobblestones, patched-up rundown houses, and abandoned mansions were broken and had signs of arson. This place was hidden well even though many children and illegal traders were there.


    The Merry House.


    This was where he was first taken to after coming to this Empire. Wretched and abominable place.


    Moran moved like a gush of wind, hiding behind haystacks and rubbishes whenever some men passed by. They were the scouts taking turns to guard and watch the place. Moran intended to go to only one place as quickly as he could but waited cautiously, seeing they had another batch of goods placed in the Big House.


    "Move ''em ''ere!"


    The stout, round-bellied bald man shouted a liquor he held in his hands. Two children pulled a cart thrice larger than their own and struggled to move forward as they acted like horses.


    Whack.


    "Hic!"


    "You aren''t fast enough! Hurry up, time is moving; ye better not waste more of my money!"


    One of the children stumbled, resulting in one of the bags falling and the contents splattered on the ground. They were precious jewels that were still raw, having some soil and mud.


    Whack!


    "Ah!"


    "Clumsy fool! Quickly put ''em back, or I''ll kill you!"


    "Y-Yes! Yes!"


    The tattered child, filled with bruises and signs of malnutrition, quickly collected the scattered jewel and put it back on the cart, helping his trembling friend, who seemed to be on the verge of letting go of everything if he was one step too late.


    "Now, do it properly!"


    With one last whip on the ground as if to threaten them, they lowered their head, moving as fast as they could with their low strength, and entered the Big House.


    "Bunch of fools; if we''re not in a rush, I would have killed them all. Useless cretins. Tch."


    The man turned his back, going to another narrow road.


    Moran''s footsteps were a whisper in the night, trailing the man''s brisk pace. The man''s torch flickered, casting brief, jagged shadows as he turned down another alley leading to a broader path. A large, half-burnt manse loomed there, its decaying grandeur still enough to offer shelter.


    Moran slipped around to the back of the mansion with practised ease and hoisted himself through a shattered window. The first floor greeted him with an eerie tidiness, an unsettling contrast to the dilapidation outside. It seemed the slave trader had cleared out this level, leaving it unnervingly clean.


    Moran ascended the stairs, each step soft and deliberate. A faint light seeped through a crack in a door. Pressing himself against the wall, he glided to an adjacent door, his presence a mere shadow.


    Inside, the dim torchlight revealed a table with three bags, carelessly abandoned. Intrigued, Moran approached his fingers deftly, undoing the ties. He peered inside, curiosity mingling with caution, wondering what treasures the bags held from the Empire.


    Hah.


    Haha.


    "This people…"


    Would you look at that? They really know no bounds.