“Whoa!” Thutmose III let out a cry of amazement as he marveled at the scenery of the city spread out before his eyes. The bricks used to build the city were the same sun-dried ones they used in Kemet, but perhaps because this was a different location, they gave off a different impression. It made him realize he really was in the Four Regions. The uniqueness of the temple he spotted in the distance was particularly striking. While Kemet’s pyramids were made of limestone and were impeccably triangular, the ziggurats constructed in the city of Megiddo consisted of brick and didn’t resemble triangles at all, thus lacking beauty and finesse.
“Well, it seems they’re no match for us when it comes to aesthetics, at least.” Thutmose III said with a scornful laugh. This city prided itself on these ziggurats—from just that fact alone, the crudeness of their technology was more than apparent. If he had to guess, he’d say Kemet’s technology was probably a hundred, no, perhaps even two hundred years ahead.
“So, our true enemy is Hattusa, then,” Thutmose III decided. The Kingdom of Hattusa’s army farther north was more coordinated and powerful than Kemet’s army could ever hope to manage. Rumor had it that they employed the use of a “divine metal,” and as improbable as it sounded, it was apparently the truth.
“Take note: their king, Tahurwaili, is not to be underestimated,” Radames explained.
Tahurwaili—the current ruler of Hattusa. Known as one of the strongest warriors around, his name had even traveled as far as Kemet. Having quashed one rebellion after another in Hattusa no sooner than they had cropped up, King Huzzjia I, the king at the time, had this to say of his ability: “Tahurwaili’s spear is worth its weight in gold.”
Though he’d left Hattusa around twenty years ago, he had suddenly returned ten years later, built up an army in the several years that followed, then usurped the throne. There was no doubt he was just as formidable as the rumors suggested.
“And yet, because of the way he stole the throne, it seems his tenure as king is on shaky ground.” The corner of Thutmose III’s mouth turned up into a sly grin. The biggest threat in the anti-Kemet alliance was unable to make a move. In other words, there was no better time to act. Therefore, he wanted to make this reconnaissance mission a success at any cost.
“Now, now, Lord Thut. Let’s leave the complicated political talk for later and wet our whistles with a stiff drink first. It’s been a long journey, so don’t you think we should take a breather for a bit?” With an ingratiating smile, Radames pointed to a sign indicating a tavern and offered to lead the way.
“Wimp,” Thutmose III almost said out loud, but then he reminded himself that it was also a leader’s duty to keep his soldiers content. “All right, I suppose,” he said with a nod, and they made their way to the tavern.
Thutmose III was hard on others just as much as he was hard on himself. However, toughness alone didn’t get people to follow you. Radames might’ve been a hopeless coward, but as upsetting as that was, his brother’s timidness also functioned as a good indicator of when he was being too strict.
“Welcome, welcome!” The middle-aged man at the counter, likely the owner, waved them in with a gruff voice. However, that greeting went in one of Thutmose III’s ears and out the other—a certain area within the tavern had immediately grabbed his attention.
Thutmose III was, by his own estimation, one of the three greatest warriors in the entirety of Egypt. Seasoned warriors such as he were able to roughly gauge the strength of their opponent at a perfunctory glance...and that was why he could tell.
“Who in the world are they?!” he blurted out. On the surface, the tavern-goers he’d caught sight of appeared to be a group of delicate, incredibly gorgeous women, but the alarm bells that had gone off in his head the moment he’d entered the establishment told him otherwise. He had walked into a den of monsters.
“We made quite a profit this time, didn’t we?” Feeling the hefty weight of the leather bag tied to his waist, Nozomu cracked a sly grin. Half a year had passed since his family had started their trade venture, and he felt he was finally beginning to get the hang of merchant life.
“I’m not a puppy yapping at my dad’s heels anymore, Miss Sigrún. Now this dog has teeth!” he muttered to himself. He hadn’t forgotten what Sigrún had said to him six months ago, and at the time, no one had denied it. Even his own father Yuuto had merely looked away awkwardly. In other words, they had all agreed with Sigrún’s assessment. At the height of his anger, he’d wanted to retaliate, “You’ll regret underestimating me!” However, in the end, he’d realized that nothing he could say would change their opinions and that he’d have to prove them wrong with actions, not words.
Perhaps fueled by spite, he’d put his nose to the grindstone and had fervently studied to become a merchant. Fortunately, judging by this latest transaction, it seemed he had some innate talent already. At this pace, he figured, it wouldn’t be long before the name “Iárnviðr Trading Company” was known throughout the entire Orient.
“Tee hee. Indeed, with this, even Lady Sigrún will surely see you in a new light, Nozomu.” Ephelia was practically beaming sitting beside him. She was the woman he’d looked up to like an older sister from an early age, and she’d gone on to become his crush and then his wife—as of three months ago, following a ceremony held on the island that was their family’s base, she and Nozomu were officially married.
Just seeing her gentle smile was enough to set Nozomu’s heart aflutter, and he turned away from her bashfully. In truth, she was the entire reason he’d tried so hard to become a merchant in the first place. Outside of wanting to be acknowledged by his father, a part of him also wanted to gain the means necessary to provide for his wife on his own merits.
“Not just Miss Sigrún, but my good-for-nothing dad too. I’ll show them all,” Nozomu spat as he made a fist. After retiring, his father Suoh Yuuto had started to take it easy—too easy, in fact. He’d left all of the actual management of the company to Linnea, and he spent every hour of every day goofing off with his children, fishing, or playing Othello or shogi with his wives—and currently, he had taken an interest in sugoroku, essentially a Japanese version of Parcheesi. In the six months since they’d touched down on the island, Yuuto hadn’t done anything even resembling work.