We walked through the castle corridors, heading towards the Royal Court Hall at the king's request. My father appeared calm, even nonchalant, accustomed to being in the presence of Kazdel's most powerful individuals.
I, on the other hand, couldn't shake the apprehension in my chest. I had been to such a place only a few times, and I had always feared offending some noble and harming my family.
Trying to focus on the decoration did little to calm me, for this place had seen better days.
There had been a failed attempt to disguise the decay. Where there had once been gold and silver, there were now imitations of similar colors.
The paintings on the walls were not the originals, as they had been destroyed or looted by enemies, as were the relics and artifacts of our society, whether of cultural value or true power.
The furniture, once carved from the finest wood with meticulous detail, had been sold to pay mercenaries or absurd war reparations. Now there was only cheap furniture surrounded by old, dusty carpets.
What little value remained was locked away in the deepest vaults of castles, mansions, and other fortifications, or in the hands of isolated tribes unwilling to get involved.
So much knowledge lost, so many sacred places desecrated. But this was the punishment we devils deserved, wasn't it? Sometimes I wonder if there will ever be an end to so much pointless conflict.
Occasionally we would pass servants dressed in clothes that imitated those of high society from other countries. They would bow and speak nervously in our presence, uttering words of admiration and gratitude for our service on the battlefield.
If only they knew the horrors we had witnessed, then their words would change. We are no heroes with the amount of Sarkaz blood we spilled.
A simple nod of acknowledgment was more than enough for them to return to their duties, trying in vain to transform this piece of stone into something presentable.
The guards were the best-looking, with gleaming, high-quality equipment; after all, our land needed soldiers more than laborers. It's a shame that most of the money to maintain them comes from the exorbitant taxes that drain the population's money.
Those who live in the capital manage to get by, even if barely, but the inhabitants of smaller towns or villages are not so lucky. If they can't pay with the required money and food, then someone will be sent to ensure the quotas are met.
Perhaps those who live in the territory of warlords are in better situations, but it's difficult to say without seeing it personally.
Those who live in the territory of nobles loyal to the king may have their quality of life vary greatly. It all depends on the administration of their Lord.
"We've arrived, are you nervous?"
I was pulled from my thoughts by my father's words. Turning to face him, I saw him staring at me with concern.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're doing better than the first time you were here."
I failed to suppress a laugh, as did my father. I cringed, remembering the embarrassment I felt when I first met the Royal Court and the King; I could barely speak amidst my stammering and nervousness.
"Let's just get this over with quickly, I want to leave as soon as possible."
"You and me, Buldrokkas'tee, you and me."
The guards beside the entrance to the Court Hall opened it, allowing us to enter. Taking a deep breath, my father sighed audibly before entering the chamber.
I resisted the urge to do something similar and followed him, hearing the doors close behind us.
The room was dark, with us in the center and the king and nobles of the court on the other side (though tribal leaders is a better term to refer to them), arranged in a high arch, each on their throne, ten in total, with the king at the center of it all on his largest and most ornate throne.
From left to right were:
The Blood Court of Vampires, led by the Sanguinarch.
The Elegiac Court of Banshees, led by the Great Banshee.
The Decadent Court of the Nachzehrers, led by Nachzehrer King.
The Damatti Cluster.
The Sarkaz King, the Ruler of Kazdel chosen by the Black Crown.
The Temple of Knowledge of the Liches, led by the Lich King.
The Wendigo tribe, led by the Ancient Shaman, in this case, my mother.
The Master Architect of the Gargoyles.
The Cyclops court, led by a matriarch.
And finally, the Djall arch-liar.
Although this was called a court, the composition of the place resembled a tribunal, with them staring down at us with emotionles faces in that dimly lit room.
"Your Majesty."
My father knelt, lowering his head, actions I didn't hesitate to imitate.
"Rise, Rujrokkas'tee. I am glad to see you in good health. And this one beside you must be your son, Buldrokkas'tee, correct?"
"Correct, Your Majesty."
I replied as soon as his head turned towards me, gazing at me curiously. His tone held no malice; there was even a certain joy at seeing my father again, but I had to act according to the norms.
Despite this, I didn't refrain from analyzing the appearance of the court members as I rose.
The vampire was pale with red eyes, like all of his race. He had blond hair, an old face for one of his kind, a thin beard and mustache, and detailed black clothing. His physique and posture indicated a life of combat, and his eyes lacked the arrogance for which vampires were known.
There wasn't much to describe about the Banshee; she wore a black dress and a veil of the same color, like all the others, but it hugged her figure, leaving only her pointed ears, black hair, and small wings on her head visible. She gave me the feeling that she didn't want to be here, repeatedly tapping her sharp nails on the arm of her throne.
The Nachzehrers was extremely tall and sickly thin, to the point of seeming frail, but he was anything but. He wore a white tunic and bands of the same color that covered his entire body, except for his horns.
The Damatti Cluster disturbed me, several beings fused into one, always changing appearance. Now a woman with tanned skin, a muscular body, horns, and red hair, wearing mercenary clothes. Of everyone here, she was the one who showed the least emotion.
The Lich could be mistaken for a Banshee, if it weren't for the serpentine tail swaying at his side. I couldn't identify its gender, but the individual was a young person with wavy white hair, pale skin, and wearing brown robes. He or she seemed more interested in his books and scrolls than in the court meeting.
The Wendigo, my mother, was a mountain of muscle, just like my father and I. Her skull had softer lines, painted with tribal tattoos, and her horns curved to the sides in an S pattern. Her clothes were a mixture of animal skins and brown leather, covered in talismans and amulets. She gave me a subtle nod, which I returned.
Like the Lich, I couldn't tell if the gargoyle was male or female, nor its age, as it wore heavy silver armor and a golden warhammer characteristic of its culture, leaving only its bat wings and tail visible.
The Cyclops possessed a pair of horns like most Sarkaz, but there was a metallic tiara hiding her third eye on her forehead. She was dressed in purple silk robes adorned with jewels and gold chains. Currently, she was writing something in a notebook, probably more tragic prophecies.
I wondered if the Djall on the throne was the real one or just an illusion hiding an empty chair. His horns pointed straight up, emerging from his short gray hair. The old man with wrinkled skin, if he existed at all, sent me an amused smile, probably sensing my fear.
Finally, there was the king, Baruch III. For as much as I was ashamed to admit it, my mother and he were the only ones in the court whose names I could remember.
The king was a Sarkaz with brown skin and horns curved forward emerging from his black hair. Tall and strong, he had severe features worn by the weight of being a ruler, and wore clothes worthy of a warrior monarch, a mixture of black armor with pieces of red fabric.
However, his most striking feature was the black crown on his head, the symbol that his rule was legitimate.
"Very well, then report what you saw on the battlefield."
Following the king's orders, my father stepped forward, beginning his report.
"As we were informed, we moved our army to intercept the enemy force that invaded Your Majesty's territory. They were not numerous enough and did not possess the necessary resources to take the capital, so they were easily eliminated. However, this does not change the fact that they managed to get so close without being detected for a long time. We took no prisoners, a mistake that will not be repeated, as we could have obtained more information, but this does not change the fact that…"
My father paused for a moment, considering his next words. This piqued the curiosity of the Court, who leaned forward on their thrones.
"Continue."
The king commanded, and my father did as ordered, speaking slowly and carefully.
"…This does not change the fact that this was planned. All the events that led them here were very convenient. I found nothing to prove my assumptions, but I believe there is a traitor informing enemies about our weaknesses."
As expected, the court erupted in indignant shouts, silenced by the king's booming voice.
"SILENCE!"
Everyone fell silent, allowing him to continue.
"I hope you understand the seriousness of your words, Rujrokkas'tee."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I have no names to mention, and I dare not accuse anyone in this room, but the traitor could be anyone, from a high-ranking soldier to a minor figure. Whoever it is, that person is aware of the location of the guard posts and patrol routes and the best way to avoid them."
Then the voices returned, agitated whispers, incomprehensible due to the way they mingled. Some of revolt, others of concern.
Slowly, the king raised his hand, causing them to fall silent again.
"I understand, your concerns are valid. I will intensify the defenses and initiate an investigation to try to discover the traitor, and I hope that all members of this court will cooperate."
The message was never spoken, but it was clear, and all the members present agreed.
"But I hope you understand, there will be severe punishment if this is nothing more than unfounded concerns."
"I understand, Your Majesty."
"But now, I believe there are other matters to be discussed at the moment, such as the surprising drop in mercenary deaths thanks to miraculous products sold by a foreign merchant who recently established himself in the capital."
I cringed at these words, something the court, especially the king, noticed.
"Is there something you would like to say, Buldrokkas'tee?"
The words refused to come out, and I glanced at my father, searching for an answer. He nodded for me to continue, so I swallowed my fears and told the truth, for lying would only bring trouble.
"I met this merchant, his name is Alden, an Archosauria or Aslan, probably of Sargon. Our meeting was brief, but I can attest that his products are not fake. Whatever they told Your Majesty is true."
I mentally apologized for involving an innocent in this viper's nest, but my loyalty to the king was paramount. His Majesty leaned forward on his throne, deep in thought with a hand on his chin.
"Gems that heal wounds, potions that restore energy, balms that increase a warrior's strength and dexterity, moss that cures poisoning, and much more. All with instant effect and no visible side effects. What does this court think?"
"We should recruit him as a supplier for our forces!"
"Or perhaps demand to know his secrets and begin mass production!"
"He's a foreigner, isn't he?! What guarantees that he isn't the traitor we're looking for?! He could be a spy from another nation!"
"How about an exchange of knowledge? That would be fairer."
Each sentence made my stomach churn. As expected, they pursued their own interests upon finding a valuable resource.
"Rumors say he appeared out of nowhere in an isolated village in the middle of the desert, saving it from an attack, demonstrating extraordinary prowess as a caster, killing mercenaries, healing the wounded, and repairing damage with a snap of his fingers. As if that weren't surprising enough, he stormed the local warlord's fortress, killing all his men and freeing the prisoners who were to be sold into slavery, providing resources and escorting them to their homes. And on the way to the capital, he helped every war refugee he encountered. They say he is a giant, strong man, with an old appearance and a flowing red mane, wearing strange clothes covered in gold and silver, and despite speaking Leithanian and being a foreigner, he showed no hostility towards the Sarkaz, except when attacked. Is this true?"
"I-I don't know, Your Majesty! I'm not aware of these stories!"
"Hm… I don't believe them wholeheartedly, but there's always a grain of truth in rumors. He arrived in the capital using foreign currency, do you recognize it?"
The king tossed a coin in my direction, which I easily caught. Turning the golden object in his hand, I noticed the symbol engraved on the material: a pair of dragons on both sides of a multi-pointed star.
"No, Your Majesty, this doesn't resemble the currency of the nations of Terra, but I'm not sure, since I've never left Kazdel."
"Keep it for yourself. And yes, your words are correct; my scholars informed me that this coin doesn't match that of any nation, but the gold it's made of is genuine."
"Your Majesty believes this is part of a treasure that Alden found?"
"Yes, or he has a habit of making his own money, which is a danger to the already precarious economy. All this was to make it clear that we know nothing about this stranger's past, so despite his actions, he should be considered a potential danger until proven otherwise, understood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"However, I would like to invite him to the castle after his recent actions."
I raised my head in confusion, as did the rest of the court upon seeing the barely contained amusement on the king's face.
"Recently, the children of a vampire clan were kidnapped by the mercenary band known as the Hand of the Earth…"
The gargoyle shrank slightly on its throne after receiving a glance from everyone present.
"I will make sure to punish them when I return to my territory!"
"...Continuing, during the rescue, it seems that the focus of our discussion managed to rekindle the eternal flame of the Moonfang, bringing back the ghosts of our ancestors."
My ears ached from the volume of the voices that followed. If there was one thing all the Sarkaz could agree on, it was respecting their ancestry.
An eternal flame extinguishing was a tragedy, for we could not speak with our ancestors, but for one to be rekindled, it could only be a miracle.
"That can't be possible! We've tried to rekindle the flame unsuccessfully for years!"
"Perhaps he used some kind of unknown Art?"
"That's too good to be true! Are we sure he's not a charlatan?"
"Would he be willing to tell us more? The library always has room for more knowledge."
I don't doubt that each of them wishes to know how to rekindle an eternal flame, though for different reasons. But in the end, we all possess some kind of connection to the dead, be it the howl of the Banshees or the voice of the earth of the Gargoyles.
"The merchant will be invited to the castle, where we ourselves will judge him, and if all goes well, an expedition to the ruins will be organized with his participation. Do you have any objection?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"Then you are free to leave; this court has other matters to discuss."
Without another word, we left the Court Hall, and each step I took felt like it weighed a ton.
"I know you're worried about your friend, but it could be worse. The Court is willing to give him a chance."
My father's hand on my shoulder did little to comfort me. Even so, I appreciated the gesture.
"I know, but now he'll have to get involved in this political maze."
"It had to happen at some point, considering everything he's done."
"Do you really believe that?"
"The king isn't a liar, and we've seen the potential of the artifacts sold."
"I think… I think I should tell Alden in advance. What he should expect and how to behave before the Court."
"That's a good idea, and when it's all over, we can invite him to dinner."
For a moment, I thought it was one of his jokes, but to my horror, he was serious.
"What?"
"Please don't tell me you also want to take some kind of advantage of this situation."
"Well, I'd be a fool not to try."
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stay angry with my father forever. I'd have to get used to it, because in the future, I'd be in his place and would have to make difficult choices.
So I continued my walk out of the castle, planning to go to Alden's shop and bring the bad news.
-XXXXXX-
"ACHOO!"
"Bless you!"
"Thank you. That's strange, I've never been sick before."
"Maybe someone's talking about you. A secret admirer perhaps?"
"I don't understand the correlation, but if someone's talking about me, then they're probably people wanting revenge."
"I wish I could say otherwise, but you're right."
I closed the door of our house behind us as soon as Warfarin passed by. Outside, a grumpy Sarkaz in formal clothes awaited us—a tax collector.
I never imagined myself paying taxes, but I already hated the act with all my being. The idea of having some of my hard-earned money taken by the incompetent government infuriated me.
The Sarkaz tested the weight of the bag in his hand and nodded, letting out a murmur of approval, then left, sending me a suspicious look that I made sure to return.
However, I wasn't the only one in a bad mood, as this collection came with the news of a new tax increase. And amidst the heated discussion of the people in the street, there was a Sarkaz who was slowly losing his composure.
"Another tax increase?! Why does the king need so much money?! What the hell is the king doing with our money?! I don't see anything changing in the capital! Damn nobles!"
He grabbed his hair, almost tearing it out as he continued.
"I barely have enough money to eat! I barely have enough money to pay the rent! I barely have enough money to buy medicine! And the taxes keep going up! Taxes to enter and to leave! To live and to die! I'll be paying taxes until I'm old!"
His face was consumed by madness and he began to scream at the top of his lungs.
"HOW I LOVE PAYING TAXES! I WILL BECOME THE BIGHEST TAXPAYER IN ALL OF KAZDEL! I ALONE WILL SUPPORT THIS ENTIRE KINGDOM! I WILL PAY TAXES UNTIL I DIE! LET THE TAXES KEEP INCREASING, BECAUSE I WILL PAY THEM ALL! YOURS, MINE, EVERYONE'S! I…"
Suddenly, a pair of guards grabbed him by the arms and dragged him away while he screamed, throwing him into a cage with people in similar situations before being carried away by a pair of burdenbeasts.
The street fell silent after this display, and in an uncomfortable tension, everyone returned to what they were doing as if nothing had happened.
I looked at Warfarin, who had her mouth open and eyes wide. I was in a similar situation, unable to believe what had occurred.
"Greetings, Alden."
I snapped out of my stupor when my name was called, and looking at its source, I realized how lost I was, as I hadn't seen Buldrokkas'tee approaching.
"Buldrokkas'tee, it's been a long time since I've seen you! How are you?"
"I'm fine, and you? I hope you've adjusted to life in the capital."
"My health is perfect, and yes, despite some problems, I've gotten used to living in such a busy place."
I glanced at where the Sarkaz from before had been taken.
"I'm glad to hear that, are you busy now?"
"You could say so, Warfarin and I were going to train her combat skills."
As if by fate, the vampire beside me returned to normal, looking at Buldrokkas'tee in surprise.
"Isn't your mother part of the Royal Court?!"
"Certainly, Jurrennas'kee is her name, and before you ask, yes, I am Rujrokkas'tee's son. I hope that's not a problem."
I never imagined Warfarin could get any paler than she already was, but she shook her head, placing herself behind me.
"And what brings you here, Buldrokkas'tee? I just closed the shop, but I can make an exception for you."
"No, no, I'm not here to buy something…"
He paused, looking away for a moment before continuing.
"Actually, would you mind if I participated in your training session? I feel like I'm getting rusty."
"I don't see a problem with that, but I warn you that I'm not good at fighting."
"I'll see that with my own eyes."
"Y-you're not going to fight me, are you?"
"It depends, do you want that?"
Warfarin seized her chance and made it clear that she didn't want to face the Wendigo at all, and with that decided, we left the capital, exchanging a few words along the way.
END OF CHAPTER