After half a day, the caravan had traveled more than five hundred kilometers. They had been on the road for three days, and there were more than fifteen weeks of travel left. The provisions were kept in giant boxes and containers transported by the largest wagons.
The men of Ulheim had already begun to assemble the overnight cargo while waiting for the carriages' spiritual engines to cool down so they could function at maximum capacity in the southern cliffs and swamps the next day.
"What are you thinking about?" a voice said behind him.
It was Pandro. Ducanor had sensed him approaching from more than twenty meters away. Ducanor was standing in the darkness, gazing into the distance at the frozen river that had only just begun to flow through small cracks the size of a finger.
"About the war," Ducanor grunted, tapping the tip of his finger against the pommel of his battleaxe resting on his belt.
"Which one of them all?" Pandro asked again.
"All of them, none of them... I don't know. I'm old, you know?" Ducanor grunted, feeling somewhat comforted by the presence of his old friend.
"You know, this makes me remember when we first met. How much time has passed?" he finished, once again with a question.
"It was about three hundred years ago, when the previous Hegemon had died. The Monarch invaded the continent. We only fought one battle... one battle, and we saw the superiority of the Celestial Monarch."
He felt an unfamiliar emotion in his chest upon remembering that moment, the old thrill of combat. "We surrendered and swore loyalty to him. You and I were among them; a new era, a single ruler over all the races."
"Yes, I remember it well," Pandro said with a self-deprecating smile. "I genuinely thought I could kill the monarch. Oh, how arrogant I was. Do you know I crossed swords with him? It was only one exchange, and I lost two fingers on my right hand and was knocked unconscious." As he spoke those words, he wiggled his fingers, which had likely been regenerated through alchemy or other magic.
"Yes, I remember what happened then. You were delirious; you saw visions, battles he had fought, and..." Ducanor hesitated and finally whispered, "...the end of the hegemony we know today."
Pandro looked at him with a mysterious expression. "You wouldn't fear the future so much if you accepted change, Ducanor, but I suppose it's something we need. The vision I had that day remains just as strong now, and I won't change my mind."
Ducanor said nothing; he simply looked at the necklace peeking out from under Pandro's clothes on his chest.
"Why did you call me?" Ducanor asked then. He knew himself well; he knew what Pandro was going to say, even if he didn't know the exact words, and a feeling of exhaustion and fatality regarding the change flooded his chest.
"You really are perceptive when it comes to the important things, huh, Captain," Pandro said with a smile. "Well, I suppose you know that appointing Lagnesh as Tetrarch is going to leave quite a few people unhappy, especially two people: one in the north and one in the south."
Ducanor didn't reply. He remembered Elios's words and couldn't help but think he had been a fool for his lack of foresight.
"What does Her Excellency need from me?" Ducanor asked with a tense expression.
"Your loyalty. You are the legitimate ruler of Ulheim, but you rejected your position out of the love you have for your wife and for Pandamar. Garou is old and has no male heirs, and two of his four daughters are married to Pandamar. Now the question is, Ducanor: to maintain the stability of the tetrarchy and prevent the deaths of millions, what would you be willing to do?"
Ducanor looked at the sky. He was an arrogant man, haughty, and above all, a man of honor. An honor that wasn't for himself, nor for others, but for his family. He knew that someday the time would come when his family would be fractured; he didn't know how, he didn't know when. But what he did know was that he would do whatever it took to prevent it.
And if those bonds he had forged around himself were going to be broken in any way... He would have to die first.
"I, Ducanor Kal Arreus, swear by my Dao and by my heart my loyalty to Tetrarch Lagnesh," Ducanor said as he knelt, looking directly into Pandro's eyes. Who also returned his gaze.
"Congratulations, Ducanor. From now on, you are the finn ollam erehn of the Kingdom of Tara. From this moment on, your loyalty will not be to your lord, but to your monarch; today you become the eyes, the ears, and the voice of the Tetrarch. Obviously, this title will be officially bestowed upon you at her coronation. I hope you have a long and prosperous duty, Ducanor."
And I... Ducanor thought to himself, without looking up from the ground at Pandro's words. And I...
The Road to Tara
The river was frozen. Even though winter had already ended and spring had begun, the freezing weather remained as aggressive as ever in the north of the eastern continent. But, despite everything, the thaw had started. However, even a frozen river wasn't thick enough to allow the massive army of Pandamar, the Lord of Ulheim, to cross.
Three thousand Iaspis magisters and one hundred filiads made up Pandamar's royal retinue, many of them renowned heroes and guards from the time when the Celestial Monarch's campaign of conquest was ending.
They were all members of the Aquitona Cohort. The special characteristic of this cohort was their weapons: unlike the energy spears and javelins of the magister's forces, they used swords. It was a heavy infantry force equipped with Kun Peng swords—dharmic treasures that had spatial properties, as they could shatter the void.
Their dark blue and black armor had a design somewhere between scales and feathers; the chainmail itself was scale armor, and the helmet was shaped like a goshawk.
They had a brutal reputation. Before being permanently stationed in Ulheim, they had served as an auxiliary force in the northern continent, where they crushed the three rebellions of the necro race—first during the rule of the Hegemon of the Blood Rose, and then under the Hegemons of the Ascending Sun and the Golden Dawn.
Before the ascension of the Celestial Monarch, many achieved apotheosis through titles, the first being the successor of Donallus, the first Hegemon: the Hegemon of the Marble Gate, and his adopted son. Therefore, saying the names of some of those Hegemons was considered sacrilege, and Ducanor had no intention of breaking those taboos.
Leading the retinue was, obviously, Pandamar. A tall, robust man, with skin pale as marble and blue hair like a will-o'-the-wisp. This appearance denoted his albinism, for even though he was a Feymor, he had been born with that condition, giving him that pallor and vibrant hair.
Following closely behind him were his two wives, sublime beauties who, according to tradition, covered their faces as a sign of respect for their husband—although everyone knew the rumors about the true reason for the veil. Nevertheless, one could see their long, pointed ears and their golden-green and emerald hair falling down their backs, showcasing their Feynir lineage.
Riding behind them was also Pandamar's personal filiad ollam, Galvan Kal Ele, who was also a Feymor. Unlike Pandamar, who was slender and attractive to the eye, he was rough and brawny, with thick eyebrows, even thicker lips, and a square face, half of which was ebony skin mottled with a large reddish birthmark.
On the other side, leading the visiting forces, a figure flanked by guards in amber armor stood out. They were quite familiar to Ducanor, who was advancing to meet him. The person leading the retinue—which was heading toward Tara to swear loyalty to the eastern Tetrarch—had been met and escorted halfway by Lagnesh's personal guard. It was the greatest guard on the continent, according to some people, and a man he hadn't seen since his days as a guard.
Seeing the man before his eyes—with hair now gray where it had once been a violet that crackled with lightning, and looking aged where he had once been jovial—made Ducanor sigh, as he thought the same of his own reflection.
The man rode a wind horse. He smiled at him grimly while his eyes shone with the same fierceness he had possessed in battle long ago.
"Captain," Pandro said with a broad smile as he clasped his arm, before wrapping his other arm around his neck in a gesture of genuine affection, despite the time that had passed since they had last seen each other. "Well met. I kept saying something was missing in this damned place. You know the only reason I came to this part of hell was to see you."
Ducanor smiled bitterly at those words, while inwardly glad that Pandamar was busy indulging his two wives and wasn't listening to him.
"You seem to be in good health, my lord. Time has treated you better than it has me, it seems," Ducanor said, showing a half-smile.
"Haha, you should look at yourself, really. Getting married has changed you; you wear silk instead of steel now. It really is curious," Pandro said with a smile as he signaled to his men to give the order to advance.
"Tess and the children are in the back, that's why it took me a while to answer your call, Pandro," Ducanor replied as he looked at the long road ahead of them.
Getting to Tara would take quite a while. The retinue consisted of three thousand warriors, but in truth, counting attendants, maidens, and servants, plus Pandro's hundred men, they bordered on ten thousand people. It would take them at least four months to reach the region of Tara, and to reach the city of the Ten Thousand Hills of Tara would take another two weeks.
"Pandro, I hope your wagons and horses are fast; after all, I don't want to be late for Her Majesty's coronation," the all-too-familiar voice of Pandamar suddenly said. He had approached at a gallop on his astral horse, closely followed, curiously enough, by his half-sister Miami.
"Hahaha, young lord. Even though these bones are old, these horses are of top quality; after all, they are sidhes," Pandro said with a smile.
He offered a small bow to Pandamar and Miami as a sign of respect, but despite that, he couldn't hide his disdain, which was obvious to both of their eyes.
"I hope Her Excellency Lagnesh throws a good party for her coronation; after all, it is an important occasion," Miami grunted as she pulled away. Unlike her brother, who was an albino, she had been born with the typical ebony skin and fiery crimson hair of the Feymor, which enhanced her beauty beyond what anyone could have imagined.
"Adoptive father, I hope you are at my disposal. I don't want to waste time with trifles," Pandamar finished as he retreated alongside his sister toward the long line of carriages, which were as big as houses and moved at a speed bordering on that of a galloping mortal horse.
"Yes, my lord," Ducanor barely managed to say before his adopted son had already disappeared from his sight.
"Still a brat, huh," Pandro grunted with a look full of reproach.
"He's young; he'll learn the hard way. But he is talented, more talented than anyone in his generation," Ducanor said, his gaze fixed on the person he considered his son deep in his heart, even though a feeling of disappointment and exhaustion flooded him.
"It seems that brat has aged you more than any war, Captain," Pandro grunted.
"Perhaps, but that's what fathers are for. To bear the burden of their children, no matter how hard it is." Staring at Pandro, Ducanor smiled, though inside he felt the bitterness of that smile. "Oh, no."