Chapter 40: To the Holy See 1
Takhloot… Takhloot…
The rhythmic clatter of shod hooves and the deep, ground-shaking tread of Rihnos echoed along the main highway of the Claudia Grand Duchy. The massive, rhinoceros-like beasts—favored for long-distance transport—wore the rich livery of a prominent merchant house. Behind them trundled five enormous wagons heavy with goods, their flanks guarded by a column of armed men. To the casual eye, it was nothing more than a prosperous merchant caravan, larger and better defended than most, but not so unusual on the great trade roads of the southern continent.
Yet in these tense times, any large movement drew wary eyes. Ever since the Principality of Leo had seized the frontier town of Cany, traffic along this vital artery had thinned to a nervous trickle. The Claudia Grand Duchy, a small, landlocked nation of half a million souls, had built its wealth and identity upon trade. Nestled at the crossroads of five kingdoms, Claudia had prospered for centuries under a policy of careful neutrality.
That neutrality had been its shield and survival. But Grand Duke Gravis III's growing ambition—and the crushing demands of the Southern Crusade—had forced him to take sides. He allied with the Crusade, granting their armies passage and supplying them with food, weapons, and gold. Now the Crusade is utterly defeated, its leaders humiliated, and Claudia stands exposed. Worse, the town of Cany had been ceded away in a treaty the Grand Duke never signed. The duchy now scrambled to muster an army to reclaim it, summoning nobles and levies to the capital and leaving its famed highways poorly patrolled.
It was this vulnerability that Alexius and his companions intended to exploit.
The "merchant caravan" was merely a disguise, headed by the so-called renowned merchant of Cany, Calius, the true head of the city's greatest trading house. The caravan's guards were no common mercenaries hired to guard the merchant caravans in this age and time, but the most formidable individuals in the Principality of Leo, their true identities hidden behind plain steel and leather. At their head rode Alexius, sovereign of Leo, masquerading as the caravan's captain, flanked by fifty of his finest Royal Knights in mercenary guise. Scattered throughout the column were Cilia and her elite intelligence agents, eyes sharp for danger. And riding not far ahead, cloaked in diplomacy, was Queen-General Amara of the Sunstone Queendom, accompanied by twenty of her desert-hardened royal guards.
As they traveled, Cilia nudged her horse closer to Alexius, her tone in a lower voice.
"Can we truly trust that queen?" she asked, eyes flicking toward Amara, who rode at the fore with her entourage.
Alexius's gaze lingered on the desert queen before he answered.
"We can—or perhaps it's better to say she must honor our terms. And we must act as though we trust her. Without her diplomatic pass, we'd never get through Veridia without force. And using force would expose this entire mission."
He met Amara's eyes across the column; she turned briefly, smiled faintly, then looked ahead.
"She and I reached an understanding," Alexius continued, his voice dipping lower so only Cilia could hear. "That night in the Fort of Ashen Pass, she came to me alone. She begged for mercy—knelt and swore herself to me. She even offered her body and soul if it would spare her kingdom." He paused, a faint flush crossing his features at the memory. "I… stopped her midway. She wept and pleaded again, and I comforted her as best I could. In the end, she swore an oath: safe passage for us to the Holy See in exchange for mercy and protection when the time comes. It was sealed with a mana scroll—a binding oath."
Cilia's sharp eyes softened slightly, though her voice stayed cool. "Mana-bound oaths are hard to break. Still, I'll keep watch. Trust is a luxury my work doesn't allow."
"Also," Alexius said simply. "She saw our strength at Ashen Pass. She knows siding with us is the only way for her realm to survive." Cilia goes back to the shadow to guard as usual. They continue their journey.
Their journey stretched across a duchy holding its breath. Villages peeked out nervously as the caravan passed, doors half-shut, children peering from behind mothers' skirts. Columns of ducal soldiers marched east to the capital of the Grand Duchy—mostly grim-faced farmers and artisans conscripted by nobles into service. Many wore little armor; some carried farm tools instead of swords. Alexius watched them and thought, I pity them. At this rate, Leo's victory will be certain.
Two weeks of relentless travel finally brought Veridia into view. The second-largest city in Claudia rose before them, mighty stone walls encircling a bustling metropolis, surrounded by banners—a golden caravan on a deep blue field—snapped proudly in the wind. Trade caravans snaked toward its gates, where guards examined papers and levied tolls with nervous precision. War loomed to the north, and suspicion hung thick in the air.
The caravan queued among merchants and travelers, the smell of livestock, spices, and nervous sweat heavy around them. Heavily armed city guards scanned each group with hawk-like intensity.
When their turn came, a scarred captain of the city watch raised a gloved hand, halting them. His sharp gaze swept over the fifty "mercenaries" with a soldier's wariness.
"That's a heavy escort for a simple merchant," he said, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Name your master and your business in Veridia."
Before Calius could step forward, Queen-General Amara urged her horse ahead, her presence commanding instant attention.
"We are a merchant caravan of the Sunstone Queendom," she announced. "I travel under royal sanction on important business with the south. These guards are hired swords for protection. You will find our papers in perfect order."
She drew forth a heavy scroll sealed with the radiant golden sunburst of her house—the unmistakable sigil of the Sunstone royal line. The captain's eyes widened. His grip on his sword slackened. Diplomatic writs of this grade were rare—and untouchable.
"This…" he muttered, straightening abruptly. A royal diplomatic pass. Direct from Her Majesty herself. I have no right to question this… nor to report it.
The man bowed deeply from the saddle. "My apologies, honored envoy. As the ancient treaties dictate, I shall not delay your passage. Welcome to Veridia. May your stay be peaceful."
He signaled, and the great gates creaked open. The caravan rolled forward unchallenged, disappearing into the pulsing heart of the trade city.
(Continue…..)