When we finally reached the imposing gates of Arpa after days of difficult travel through the desert, everything unfolded exactly as Arvid had grimly predicted it would. The massive doors remained firmly shut against us, an unmistakable symbol of rejection and defiance. The huge defensive walls loomed above us, their stonework solid and ancient, and the enormous double doors that were built directly into those walls—doors large enough to allow entire caravans and supply wagons to pass through simultaneously—remained tightly closed and barred from the inside.
When our herald stepped forward and formally invoked Arvid's legitimate identity as the rightful Selon Emperor, loudly proclaiming his titles and his legal claim to authority, the guards stationed on the walls above merely responded with cold, bureaucratic precision. Their spokesman called down that they owed their loyalty exclusively and solely to the imperial seal itself, not to any particular person who claimed to be emperor. And currently, at this moment in time, that precious seal remained firmly in the authorized possession of Arvid's cousin. According to the ancient and inflexible laws of Selon—laws that had governed the empire for centuries—soldiers were bound by oath to respond only to whoever physically held the imperial seal, regardless of the legitimacy of how they had obtained it. The legal framework made no provision for situations like this, and so the technical letter of the law superseded common sense or loyalty to the actual rightful ruler.
So the command couldn't be revoked or overridden by appeals to legitimacy or bloodline. The gates remained tightly shut, sealed and barred, not allowing anyone inside no matter their rank or title or claim to authority. We were locked out of the capital city of the very empire Arvid ruled.
Then, after a tense period of waiting and apparent impasse, the merchants who had been traveling under our protection for the past several days approached the walls on their own initiative. They had clearly been preparing for this moment, had discussed their strategy amongst themselves. The old merchant man who seemed to be their unofficial leader—the same man who asked for our protection in the beginning of the journey through Grand Sand desert—called out loudly to the guard commander visible on the wall high above us. His voice carried well in the still desert air.
"My lord," he began with elaborate deference, his tone respectful but confident, "we are honest merchants who have been traveling all the way from distant Gorei, undertaking this long and perilous journey at the specific personal request of Princess Harusha, who currently resides here in Arpa. The princess particularly wanted to taste a rare and exotic fruit called red devil fruit, a delicacy she had heard about but never tried. We have successfully procured this fruit, which I have here with me now."
He made a deliberate gesture, and the man standing next to him immediately responded by opening a large ornate chest they had carefully carried to the front of their group and positioned where the guards above could see it clearly. The heavy lid swung open with a creak to reveal three absolutely massive fruits nestled in protective straw. Each fruit was distinctly oval-shaped with a peculiar scale-like outer layer that gleamed oddly in the harsh sunlight. They were indeed impressive specimens.
"This particular fruit grows only in the Kami Kingdom, in very specific conditions that can't be replicated elsewhere," the old merchant continued his pitch smoothly, like a man who had spent a lifetime negotiating and persuading. "These precious fruits have been with us for several weeks already during our long journey, carefully preserved but still perishable. According to the growers, they are best consumed within the next three days at most, after which they will begin to spoil and lose their distinctive flavor and texture. They are extremely rare and correspondingly expensive, and I have been reliably informed that the princess will be absolutely enraged if she doesn't receive them in good condition after specifically commissioning us to acquire them."
The old man's voice remained remarkably calm and reasonable despite the gravity of the situation. "Though we have indeed been traveling alongside the Imperial Army for mutual protection against bandits and desert dangers—a common and sensible precaution for any travelers—we have absolutely no political affiliation to them whatsoever, no debt to be paid to either side in whatever conflict is occurring. We are simply merchants trying to conduct our business and fulfill our contracts. And so I humbly ask, my lord, please allow us merchants and our goods to enter the city. We are thirty individuals in total, a modest group. We are perfectly willing to let you thoroughly check our identification papers and carefully inspect all of our goods for anything suspicious. Please, my lord, I beg you to let us in."
The old man clasped his hands together in a traditional gesture of pleading and supplication, bowing his head respectfully.
There was some extended conversation between the soldiers visible on the wall above us. We could see them gesturing and discussing amongst themselves, though we couldn't hear the specific words being exchanged. The guard commander seemed to be considering the request carefully, weighing the risks and benefits. Finally, after several minutes of deliberation, they formulated a response.
"We will get back to you after we have talked with our superior officers and fact-checked all of your claims about the princess and her order," the guard commander called down. His tone was suspicious but not entirely dismissive. "But I want you to understand clearly—if you are caught lying about any of this, if this is some kind of trick or deception, you had better believe you will be finished. We will execute you without hesitation or mercy."
The warning was delivered with absolute seriousness, meant to intimidate and to make clear the consequences of any attempted deception.
"Please verify everything, dear sir! Please conduct whatever investigation you need!" the old man responded immediately, his voice taking on an almost obsequious quality. "I genuinely do not care about anything more than the money I will make from selling my goods and fulfilling my contract! I am a simple merchant motivated purely by profit! Please trust me on this—I have no interest whatsoever in your political conflicts!"
His performance was convincing, hitting exactly the right notes of mercantile self-interest that the guards would find believable and unthreatening.
The guard commander nodded curtly and then disappeared from view, presumably descending from the wall to consult with his superiors and to send someone to verify the merchant's story with Princess Harusha herself.
He returned approximately an hour later, after what must have been a thorough discussion with his commanding officers and confirmation of the merchants' claims. The wait had been agonizing, though we all tried to appear patient and unconcerned.
"We will permit you to enter through the small pedestrian doors that are built into the main gates," he announced from above, his voice carrying an official, formal quality. "But you will be subjected to an extremely thorough inspection and search. If you attempt anything suspicious, anything that seems even remotely funny or unusual, you will be shot down immediately like rabid dogs without warning or hesitation. I will personally be sending ten of my most experienced soldiers out to conduct the inspection."
His announcement was clear and the threat implicit in his words was unmistakable.
Meanwhile, the main body of Arvid's army had positioned itself at a considerable distance from where the merchants stood—far enough away that they were probably just barely within range of the guns and crossbows aimed down from the walls, but not close enough to pose an immediate threat. The soldiers manning the defensive positions had been aiming their weapons with focused intensity from the very first moment we had stepped close enough to ask them to open the doors, their fingers never straying far from triggers. The message was clear: any aggressive move would be met with immediate and overwhelming force.
Arvid and the army remained seated on their horses or standing in relaxed formations, deliberately feigning complete disinterest in the proceedings with the merchants. They engaged in casual conversation, checked their equipment, anything to appear as if they considered the merchants' business to be entirely separate from their own concerns. But despite the carefully maintained appearance of calm, the air around them was thick with tension. Every soldier was coiled tight, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. No one breathed loudly or made any sudden movements that might be misinterpreted as threatening.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, the small pedestrian door set into the massive main gate finally swung open. Ten well-armed and clearly alert soldiers emerged in careful formation, their weapons at the ready. They approached the merchants with professional caution, maintaining fields of fire and watching for any sign of deception or ambush.
The soldiers began their inspection with methodical thoroughness. They carefully examined the merchants' identification papers—official documents that included each person's full name, birth date, hometown, and registered occupation. Each paper bore the signature and official seal of the Imperial Identification Department, stamps that were supposedly difficult to forge. The soldiers scrutinized these documents carefully, comparing faces to descriptions, checking the seals for authenticity.
Then they moved on to inspecting the goods themselves. They opened each and every chest, crate, and bundle with systematic efficiency, leaving nothing unchecked. They pulled out items, examined them, sometimes prodded them with their weapons to ensure nothing was hidden underneath or inside.
I held my breath, trying to remain absolutely still and silent. I was buried carefully beneath a substantial pile of expensive silk clothes that were supposedly being transported all the way from the distant city of Chang'an, known throughout the world for its exceptional silk production. The fabric was layered over and around me, hopefully concealing my form completely. I was using the invisibility spell that Aiona had taught me, the magic wrapped around me like a second skin, but that didn't mean I couldn't still get caught through pure bad luck or a careless movement. The spell made me invisible to the eye, but I was still physically present—I still had weight and mass and occupied space. If a soldier's hand happened to land directly on me while rummaging through the chest, the spell wouldn't prevent him from feeling my solid form beneath his palm.
One of the soldiers approached the specific chest I was hidden in. My heart began pounding so hard I was afraid the vibrations might somehow give me away. He gripped the lid and opened it abruptly, without warning, and immediately began rummaging through the silk fabrics with rough, uncaring hands. His fingers moved dangerously close to where I was curled up, trying to make myself as small as possible.
"Be careful with that, please!" the old merchant man interjected quickly, his voice taking on a note of genuine alarm mixed with commercial concern.
"This is exceptionally fine silken fabric, made from the silk of specially bred silkworms in Chang'an," he explained with the kind of detail that suggested genuine expertise. "The production process takes months and requires incredible skill. The fabric is extremely delicate and fragile, and it costs an absolute fortune—each bolt is worth more than a common soldier makes in a year. This particular shipment is specifically for Lady Maradi from the prestigious Gunasera house, one of the wealthiest and most influential noble families in Arpa. She has very exacting standards and will be furious if the fabric arrives damaged. Please, I beg you, be careful with it."
His plea was pitched perfectly—concerned about his merchandise and his reputation, but also subtly reminding the soldier that damaging goods destined for a powerful noble could have consequences for him personally.
The soldiers scoffed at the merchant's obvious concern for mere cloth, the sound dismissive and contemptuous. In their world of military service and constant danger, such commercial worries seemed trivial and foolish. But despite their scorn, they did comply with the request, handling the silk somewhat more carefully. The soldier who had been roughly searching my chest withdrew his hands and closed the heavy lid with a resounding thud that made me flinch internally, though I kept my body perfectly still.
"All checked thoroughly, nothing suspicious found," they reported to their commander, their voices carrying the confidence of men who believed they had done their job properly.
"Let them in," the guard commander ordered from his position on the wall, his voice carrying clear authority.
The small door in the great gate swung open wider, and the merchants began to file through into the city of Arpa, carrying their goods and leading their pack animals. And hidden among those goods, invisible and barely breathing, I went with them into the sealed fortress-city, the first step in what I hoped would be a bloodless resolution to this crisis.