Styria was not how Kion remembered it.
In his past life, it was one of the most backwater parts of Stormholt despite being its capital city.
But this version seemed to have a major upgrade.
Everything was ornately decorated, from the smaller brick houses emblazoned with black marble to the towering spires and columns that were lined with gold.
The street air smelled fresh, and everyone who passed along seemed to be dressed in decorated robes.
There were no rundown shanties or beggars along the streets. It was as if the town had been stripped of any signs of poverty and replaced with something entirely new.
As the grand capital and the town that lay outside Stormholt's front door, Styria deserved no less royal attention than it was given.
This was due to the fact that so many important things couldn't happen in Stormholt without direct involvement with Styria.
On royal missions like the one Kion and his brother embarked on, there were several formalities that had to be met within Styria to ensure the mission could go on.
This was why they were to make their first stop in the city, at a pilgrimage tower that was home to the Holy priests and a sanctuary to the Thunder god Raiden.
It was customary to pay respects to the god before embarking on any mission. An act Kion found quite unnecessary, not because he believed gods to have not existed, as most did.
They lived in an era where primordial deities were becoming more of myth and legend, but Kion didn't doubt the existence of the gods…
He just didn't see the need to pray to someone who may not even care or listen to their stories.
He didn't know much about deities, but he knew that no damn god would waste his time with humans, especially after being silent for so long.
The carriage went on in silence, people occassionally staring at it like it fell from the skies.
Meanwhile, Penelope looked like she had seen a ghost as her eyes wandered over everything she could possibly see for miles.
"It's a beautiful city, my lord." She exclaimed.
Kion understood her disbelief, as she hadn't seen so many sights due to her confinements to the castle.
"Indeed it is. You talk like you haven't seen it before."
"Well, I have. Just not in this much detail." Penelope replied with a polite laugh.
"So, tell me then…Was it always like this?"
"Always like what, my lord?"
"This beautiful?"
Penelope looked at him for a moment, a bit confused. She had expected him to know this, as he was supposed to know more about this city than her. It couldn't have slipped his mind. Maybe he was just testing her knowledge on their history, as that was a customary thing to do for most royals with their servants.
"Actually it hasn't, my lord. After a terrible war swept by the kingdom in the days that your father was still crowned prince, Styria was the most affected, because they bore the brunt of the damage in an onslaught towards the castle by a group of assailants brandishing a Phoenix as their emblem."
Penelope glanced at Kion for confirmation.
"Go on." He prodded.
"Your father was still a crowned prince then. Those were the days of King James, your grandfathers, who—after the war—declared that Styria be the new capital and forefront to Stormholt. Nowadays, a direct attack on Styria is considered to be an attack to the castle itself."
"So they don't joke around when it comes to this place." Kion added.
"Absolutely, my lord."
Moments of silence stretched between them.
"So where do you come from?" Kion asked.
Penelope let out a slight gasp.
"What?", Kion inquired?
"Nothing, sire. It's just that, it's not usual for people like us to be asked such questions. It usually doesn't matter where we come from."
"And who's to say whether it matters or not? You, or your master?"
Penelope thought for a few moments.
"I come from a place called Nur, my lord. It used to be a peaceful land that existed between the kingdoms of Stormholt and Thorngate, but after the Great War five thousand years ago, most of my people were wiped out and our lands taken. The only remnants are slave bloodlines like mine who live to serve—"
"Enough." Kion interrupted.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to upset you, my lord."
"You didn't upset me. I just need a moment of silence to focus on the task at hand."
"Duly noted, my lord."
The carriage continued on in silence.
Kion didn't need to focus on anything. He was overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed by the sheer sadness of Penelope's story.
There was something brutal about his world and his people. An egregious system where the strong survived and the weak were cast out.
It was a system that he was all too familiar with. He had been at the shorter end of the stick, and—ultimately—he had not survived back then.
He had promised to be stronger this time, with a fresh new slate, but he also wouldn't allow the weak to feel more oppressed in matters where he was concerned.
It was right then and there, that he swore secretly to himself to absolve Penelope of that struggle that came with being weak. The staggering need to serve and please others just to feel you had a sense of purpose.
Other maids might go through that, but not his.
"Get ready sire! We almost there!" The —- signaled to Kion as the carriage made a right turn down a narrower street.
"The temple's just down the street, sire. Would you like for me to sprint down there and announce your arrival to the priests and —— ?"
"That won't be necessary. And I reckon Kai's maid is already on the job." Kion said as he signaled to the modest looking woman who sprinted down the street ahead of them.
"She is most probably going to announce his arrival, not yours my lord."
"Doesn't matter to me."
"Alright, my lord. As you wish." Penelope said with a slight frown as she settled back into her seat. With nothing to do, she fiddled idly with her fingers.
Kion naturally didn't care much for any announcement theatrics, but he suddenly became really grateful that he didn't let Penelope go when he saw a cross bolt pierce through the skull of Kai's maid just as she reached the temple doors.
The doors burst open, as ten figures dressed in black and armed to the teeth with lethal weapons sprang out to the street, right in front of the two royal carriages.
The princes of Stormholt had walked headfirst into an ambush.