Chapter 41: To the Holy See 2
The caravan rolled through the towering stone gates into a city. Noise and color filled the streets—the clang of smiths at work, the hum of trade in a dozen tongues, and the sharp scent of spice mingling with the musk of beasts and sweat. Yet under the vibrant chaos pulsed something sour. Recruitment posters can be seen on every wall, their demanding every true son of Claudia take up arms against the Leonese aggressors. In fact, propaganda against the Leon Principality. Here and there people spread and talk rumors of the "Heretic Prince" and his "cowardly seizure of Cany." Soldiers in worn armor loitered at every corner. The price of grain was said to be threefold the original price. Blacksmiths who once forged ploughs now hammered spear/arrow heads and swords from the night into dawn. The City Watch strangers with suspicious, watchful, and aggressive eyes. The outsiders are not welcoming in these times of war.
War was coming. Everyone knew it. Everyone feared it.
Thanks to Queen Amara's diplomatic writ, Alexius's caravan found welcome in one of Veridia's finest inns—a sprawling complex with stables large enough for the Rihnos and a walled courtyard for the wagons. Calius played his role to perfection, fussing over manifests, bargaining for supplies, and barking orders like a man who had grown rich but never quite relaxed. The camouflage was flawless. To the city, they were merchants of the friendly Sunstone Queendom.
Behind that veil, the real work began.
When the sunset over Veridia's rooftops, Cilia vanished into the streets with her agents. Since ascending to Sword Mastery, the world had opened to her in strange new ways. She could feel the flickering auras of the city's captains on patrol, hear the pulse of fear in the hearts of the common folk, and taste the brittle bravado in the laughter of soldiers drunk on borrowed courage. She stops at the highest rooftop of the whole city, the Lord's castle. Because of her shadow movement, nobody saw or heard her sneaky actions even though the security is tight because of the war inside the castle. From a rooftop, she listened to a council chamber deep within the governor's keep as though she stood beside the men inside.
By the time the city's bells tolled midnight, she had returned to the inn. One moment Alexius, Amara, and Ignis sat in quiet conference; the next Cilia stepped out of the darkness like a shadow.
"The situation is worse than we thought," she reports. "Grand Duke Gravis is panicking. He's pulled his best legions back to the capital to prepare for a campaign to retake Cany. Meanwhile, Lord Marshal Varrus is already probing the duchy's western border. Gravis believes he's about to be struck from two sides."
Amara's lips curved in a smile. "The fool walks into the jaws of his own making. He should have stayed quiet and accepted the deal."
"It doesn't end there." Cilia's voice sank lower. "Three days ago, a delegation of Kalian Imperial 'advisors' arrived at the war council. The governor said, "The Duke is begging the Empire for aid, and there is a chance to get AIDS in some form."
Alexius's jaw tightened. Of course. The Empire was moving pieces behind the curtain, using Claudia's desperation to undercut Leo before it could grow and become a threat to the Empire.
"One more thing," Cilia's eyes find Alexius's. "The priests are stirring the city. They preach from every temple step, warning of Leonese spies and 'non-human heretics.'They persecuted every suspicious person into the jails, and some were sentenced to death by hanging. Paranoia grows by the hour. We are not safe here. The longer we stay, the greater the risk we're found or persecuted."
Earlier, Alexius had gone down in disguise, slipping into the common room to taste the city's mood firsthand. He had sat alone in a dark corner, the plain steel of his mercenary gear catching no light, drinking bitter ale while young ducal soldiers drowned their fear in drink.
One of them—a young noble with flushed cheeks—stumbled from the bar, voice raised above the din.
"When we march north, I'll chain that Leo whelp myself!" he bragged, drawing laughter from his equally drunk companions. "We'll break their beast-king and burn his mongrel lands to the ground!"
He swayed, turned, and crashed into Alexius's table. The mug trembled.
"Watch yourself, outlander," the boy said, eyes narrowing at him. "This is a city at war. We don't suffer nameless sellswords who can't even hold their drink."
Alexius looked up and calmly said, "My apologies, my lord. I'll be more careful."
Something in his tone—level, unbowed—lit the drunkard's temper. "My lord? You'll call me Your Grace when we drag your beast-loving prince in chains!" He sneered, hand lifting to shove.
Alexius's aura flickered—just a breath, merely a presence: sharp, cold, and absolute. A glare of what it meant to stand before a predator. The young noble froze mid-motion. For an instant his wine-flushed arrogance turned to primal terror. He jumped back, mumbling a strangled apology, and fled the tavern with his peers.
Alexius exhaled quietly and left the mug untouched. The city is on its edge. One careless spark could set it ablaze.
Back in his chambers, "Cilia is right. We leave at first light. Amara, your writ will see us out as it saw us in."
Ignis, lounging like a cat with no interest in the politics of men, finally lifted his gaze from the cracked ceiling. "This entire masquerade wastes my time," the archmage complained. "Give me one hour and I will melt the southern gate to slag. The garrison will be a lesson written in ash. We can walk through smoke and ruin."
"No." Alexius immediately refused. "We are travelling in disguise to the Holy See with a more important mission, not to conquer right now. We left that part in the hand of the Leo's Marshal. I trust him, and we must."
Ignis muttered something unkind in an ancient tongue but subsided.
Dawn came pale and cold. The caravan assembled in silence. Rumor of the tavern incident had already spread; the southern gate bristled with wary guards. Yet when Queen Amara presented her golden-sealed writ, its authority was beyond question. The captain on duty studied their faces long and hard, suspicion warring with duty, then finally stepped aside.
The gates of Veridia opened. The caravan rolled out onto the southern road, leaving behind a city trembling on the edge of war.
Alexius did not look back. He kept his eyes on the endless road stretching toward the Holy See.
[World Quest: Save the Pontiff]
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