The border crossing was uneventful.
The landscape shifted gradually—the austere, military efficiency of Fanoss giving way to something greener and wilder.
The Alzer Republic was built around a Sacred Tree that radiated mana like a second sun, and you could feel it in the air.
Everything was more vibrant here.
More alive.
More... chaotic.
Arthur stood at the prow of their transport ship, watching the floating islands drift past in lazy arcs.
Adventurers from a dozen different nations crowded the guild halls.
And the Sacred Tree—the source of Alzer's power and prosperity—loomed over everything, its branches reaching toward the sky.
Merlin took one look at it all and wept actual tears of joy.
"Civilization!" he cried, throwing his arms wide. "Real civilization! Do you know how long it's been since I've seen a proper tavern brawl? Since I've heard someone curse without looking over their shoulder to make sure no noblewoman heard them?"
"Brothels. Actual, legal, well-regulated brothels. No matriarchal restrictions. No puritanical nonsense. Just... pleasure. Pure, commercial, entirely above-board pleasure."
"This is paradise!"
Morgan's staff hit him across the back of the head before he could finish.
"OW! What was that for?!"
"I'm not even angry anymore," Morgan said, her voice utterly deadpan. "I'm just tired by centuries of your nonsense. If you're going to be a degenerate, at least be a quiet degenerate."
"I refuse to be quiet about joy!"
"Then I refuse to stop hitting you."
The party dissolved into laughter.
"Master. We have a problem."
The party stopped immediately.
Cleare's voice dropped, losing its usual playful lilt.
"I've detected Ideal."
Arthur's expression didn't change. "Ideal?"
"An AI. Like myself. Like Luxion. Old Human technology." Cleare's data-streams flickered with agitation. "He's already established a cooperative relationship with the local power structure. Specifically—"
She paused, as if dreading the next words. "—with Leon Sara Rault. The heir to the Rault household."
Luxion's red eye gleamed with dark amusement. "Ideal? That old fossil is still operational? How disappointing. I was hoping he'd rusted into scrap centuries ago."
"Luxion, this is serious." Cleare's voice was sharp. "Ideal is fully integrated with the Rault family's military infrastructure. If Leon perceives us as a threat—if Ideal convinces him we're enemies—"
"Then I'll swat Ideal into ten thousand pieces," Luxion interrupted, his synthesized voice dripping with contempt. "Don't worry, partner. Let them come. Let them bring everything they have. It won't be enough."
Arthur chuckled.
It wasn't a mocking sound.
It wasn't arrogant.
It was just... confident.
The quiet confidence of a king who knew exactly what his forces were capable of.
"She's right to warn us, Luxion. But she doesn't need to worry." He turned to Cleare, his emerald eyes calm. "We came here to be adventurers. To explore. To help where we can. If Ideal and Leon Sara Rault decide we're enemies—if they insist on being hostile—then we'll send them to meet whatever god they believe in."
Cleare's agitation settled. "You're not worried at all, Master?"
"I've faced worse than an AI with a grudge." Arthur's smile was gentle. "Remember who you're talking to."
Cleare paused.
Then, slowly, her usual cheerfulness returned. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I do. My apologies for doubting you, Master."
"No apology needed. You were protecting us. That's your job."
"You're doing it well."
"So." Arthur turned to face his party, his voice carrying that quiet authority that needed no volume. "What's the plan for Alzer, Merlin?"
Merlin's grin spread slowly—the grin of a man who had been waiting for this exact question.
"Spread the legend, my king. The Sword in the Stone. I've already planted seeds in Holfort and Fanoss—whispers in taverns, songs in guild halls, rumors that pass from merchant to merchant like currency. They think it's a myth. A fairy tale. Something that might have happened once, long ago, in a kingdom far away."
His eyes gleamed.
"But soon, they'll start believing. And when we return to Holfort—when the legend has had time to grow and spread and take root in every corner of every continent—you'll find a surprising sight waiting for you."
"And what sight is that?"
"A line. A very long line. Of very desperate people. All wanting to see if they're worthy enough to pull the sword from the stone."
Merlin's grin widened. "Spoiler: they're not. But they'll try anyway."
Arthur shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "You're a menace, Merlin."
"I prefer 'architect of destiny.'"
"You're a menace who calls himself an architect of destiny."
"That's... not entirely inaccurate."
Arthur clapped his hands together.
The party straightened.
Even Merlin stopped grinning.
"Alright. Here's the plan. We stay in Alzer for a while. Take jobs. Spread our names. Build our reputation the same way we did in Fanoss."
He looked at each of them in turn. "But right now—take some time for yourselves. Explore the city. Rest. Enjoy what the Republic has to offer. We've been traveling for years. You've earned it."
The party exchanged glances.
Slowly, smiles spread across their faces.
"Spread out," Arthur commanded. "We'll meet back at the guild hall in three days. Don't cause any international incidents."
"No promises," Merlin said.
"That was specifically directed at you, Merlin."
"I know. That's why I said no promises."
The party members began to disperse, each heading off in their own direction to enjoy their free time.
Arthur remained behind, accompanied only by Cleare, while Luxion flew off to protect and watch over his sister Olivia and the ever-cheerful Stephanie.
Morgan walked off with Yumeria, the two of them disappearing into the bustling streets of the Republic's capital, already deep in quiet conversation.
And Merlin?
Merlin's wretched, perverted smile stretched even wider across his face the moment he confirmed that yes, the Alzer Republic definitely had brothels.
He practically teleported toward the nearest red-light district, his old bones moving with a speed and enthusiasm that should have been physically impossible.
Arthur watched him go and shook his head slowly, a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his face.
"Some things never change," he muttered to himself.
Cleare beeped softly beside him. "Indeed not, Master. Indeed not."
Compared to everyone else, who enthusiastically explored every corner of the city, Arthur remained inside the maid café, leisurely enjoying a cup of green matcha before eventually leaving again.
There, he met the central heroine of the story, Noelle, who was dressed in a maid uniform. She bowed politely toward him with a practiced smile. "Please come back again later, Master!"
Arthur smiled faintly at the sight. "What a wonderful new world. Don't you think so, Cleare?"
Cleare tilted her head in confusion. "Ugh… maybe, Master?"
Arthur chuckled softly. "Some things are better left unsaid, Cleare. Nonetheless, once all of this is over, we'll go home…"
His voice grew quieter near the end.
"Hah… I miss home."
A trace of melancholy appeared on his face as he stopped by a nearby apple stall. After paying for one, he wandered toward a quieter corner and took a bite from the crisp fruit while observing the bustling streets of the Alzer Republic.
The city was alive with movement. Merchants loudly advertised their wares, nobles walked proudly through the streets with servants following behind them, adventurers wandered from shop to shop, and commoners hurried through the crowded roads trying to survive another day. Every kind of person could be found here, blending together into the chaotic rhythm of the republic.
Arthur took another bite of the apple, silently watching the lively scenery before narrowing his eyes slightly.
What a beautiful… yet violent country.