“Every time I close my eyes... I see those flowers that bloomed in the night sky,” Monkey Magic breathed.
Xiaoshou, too, remembered that night that had flown by like a burst of light—when they shouted and roared all night like a gang of children set free. “All right... I’ll admit those were good times.”
“We did the job. We won. But now, it’s not enough,” the leader simply said.
Xiaoshou couldn’t respond. He had to admit that, deep down, he felt the same way. He wanted Monkey Magic to live out the dream one more time. “Boss... The Grand Priestess and the false god formed some sort of agreement.”
“Hmm? What’s an agreement?”
“Take a look at this, Boss.” Xiaoshou had visited the Grand Priestess and discovered the details of said agreement. He held out a piece of charred paper that read “Stay away from the fortress on the border.”
Monkey Magic stared at the paper, not comprehending it in the slightest. “What is that, Baldibald?!”
Xiaoshou cackled with oily satisfaction. “It reads like a pact of nonaggression on a surface level... But I can read between the lines.”
“Stop talking in riddles, Baldibald! Spit it out!” Monkey Magic demanded.
“Stay away from the fortress on the border... In other words, everywhere else is fair game.” Xiaoshou grinned.
“Bro...!” Monkey Magic sat up, the pieces finally falling into place in his mind.
As it was written, this made for a terrible pact of nonaggression. In fact, Tahara was convinced this was another trick the Demon Lord had planted—a ploy to send the Anima pouring into everywhere but the fortress.
The Republic—or the Kid Company, to be precise—had relinquished the border fortress and city of Rookie, perfectly aware of the situation. They saw no future left in the Republic and had decided to move their entire business to Holylight. The only ones left unaware were the Four Pillars, who owned the majority of land in the Republic.
As soon as Xiaoshou explained all this, Monkey Magic leaped up, Jingu Bang in hand, and bellowed at his tribe. “Party’s over! We’re going to charge the human kingdom and drag that false god out of hiding!”
Xiaoshou cackled again. “That’s what I’m talking about, Boss! I’m gonna go and ask the Grand Priestess, just in case!” The advisor ran off.
The other apes responded to their leader’s call.
“The human kingdom? That’s far out!”
“Invading the humans... It’s so hot right now.”
“You better watch out... You better watch out...!”
Crass cheers rang out through the woods as the apes hurried into action.
Fire danced in Monkey Magic’s eyes—he was going into battle mode. “Just you wait, false god... I’m gonna be the star of the next storm!” The leader of the apes dreamed again of the spectacular fireworks. No matter how many times he thought of that night, the excitement, praise, and adoration felt as fresh as they had then.
The apes moved out in search of glory. If one were to ask Tahara, things were unfolding exactly as his boss had planned. Yet again, Animania was about to plunge the continent into unprecedented unrest, unbeknownst only to the man who had started it all.
——Northern Holylight.
As restoration efforts continued throughout Holylight, those in the North especially had their hands full. In addition to restoring the devastated villages, they had to deal with the fallen Xenobians, as well as transporting the gold medallions Yu had given them. Even the hardened workhorses trained by the Militant warriors of the North struggled to carry their allotted loads of practically pure gold. No matter how many carriages they prepared, it seemed, there were more medallions to carry. As grateful as they were for the aid, this remained a logistical roadblock.
“My horse can’t go on any farther...”
“Mine’s gotta rest too. Hey, someone bring over all the pails and feed we got!”
Hauling massive loads like this was a great strain on the resources of the impoverished North, considering the water and feed they needed to provide the horses. This time, though, there was no question that it was worth it: Each gold medallion was worth more than the average salary of the working class.
“If you told me a month ago that we’d be hauling crates full of gold medallions...”
“Sometimes I think I’m dreaming or I’ve lost my mind.”
It was a long haul from Dona’s manor in the west to their headquarters in the North. At every stop they made, whispers spread about the caravan’s contents. Through the grapevine, word got out that they were hauling crates of immeasurable wealth, signifying the defeat of the central nobles. People greeted the caravan with uproarious enthusiasm and curiosity, just as Tahara had calculated.
While they rested their horses, young members of the Militants spoke merrily.
“We’re getting a hero’s welcome everywhere we go.”
“Don’t let it get to your head. We merely followed Sir Harts’s orders.”
“Ma’s gonna be so impressed when I tell her I helped bring these gold medallions.”
“Sounds like it’s already gone to your head.”
All the soldiers in the caravan looked worn from the hard labor, but their eyes shone with endless energy. Victory could change the looks and minds of soldiers.
“We’d better carry it to our lords as quickly as possible.”
“Our comrades are waiting.”
As the sunset began to stain the sky red, Harts stood on the walls of Gatekeeper, looking over their territory as it erupted with cheers. He was still in shock after the meeting with the other major players in Holylight. The North in its entirety had been seized by the government...and then promised a payout of fifty thousand gold medallions a year. Imagine being slapped in the face, only to have a billion dollars stacked in front of you. Harts had no idea if he should be mad, sad, or happy about this situation.