Chapter 45
The Imperial Capital of Solebria
Mitsuru looked up at the sky.
The Crystal Palace, seat of the Northern Empire’s power, was in the very center of the Imperial Capital of Solebria. Over a span of two hundred years, the city had grown out along boulevards radiating like the spokes of a wheel from the palace, swelling to become home to more than one million people.
The towering central keep of the Crystal Palace, made of a milky-white stone resembling marble, had guest rooms near the residence of the emperor himself. Mitsuru now stood on the terrace near the top floor, looking down on the city. It was, in a way, like looking at the very history of the Northern Empire. The construction of the city of Solebria reflected with uncanny accuracy the class structure that ordered the daily lives of people in the north. In the center, surrounding the palace, stood the looming offices of the government. Beyond them lay the lavish arcade teeming with shoppers that formed the merchant district. Even further out were the homes of the citydwellers, all standing in their approved plots, gaily decorated with the requisite markers of wealth and individual taste.
But the farther one strayed from the center of town, the shabbier things became. There was a deep moat between the city center and the outer ring of town, forming a rift, a natural line of separation that was clear to see from Mitsuru’s vantage point.
The capital city of Solebria was, in essence, a castle town. The city walls, much expanded and strengthened over the years, were always a remarkable sight to the merchants who visited from the southern continent. But beyond these walls and the single gate that led to the bustling Merchants Corridor, visitors never saw anything else of the city. That even here, within the city, there existed not one but two Solebrias, was hidden from their eyes. One of these Solebrias belonged to the rich, the other to the poor. The oppressors and the oppressed. Those who were served and those who served.
Farther still from the Crystal Palace, to the northeast, lay the prison where outlaws and criminals were held. This was an area abhorred by the geomancers of the north, their divinations honed by years of coping with the harsh climate of the northern continent.
Behind the prison edifice stood another gate that led outside the city walls. Many people considered this the gate of no return. The road leading to the northeast from this gate was referred to as the Captives Road, and the location of the forced labor camp at its end wasn’t marked on any official maps of the Empire. No one knew exactly how large it was, or how many souls it held.
Those who survived the camp knew they were guilty of only one crime: they were beastkin. They knew this, but they could not speak it out loud. The only power they had was the power to forget. The blank spot on the map was one way. If one could forget something that had existed, it never did.
Still, truth has a way of finding the chinks in even the strongest armor. Even if people are silent, buildings speak. The land speaks—and there are some who write down what they hear. On this, his tenth day in the Imperial Capital, Mitsuru already had an excellent grasp of the Empire’s history and the true conditions of life here. Much of his understanding came from the documents he found in the archives of the Crystal Palace itself.
Mitsuru had been welcomed as the emperor’s personal guest, and enjoyed considerable freedom in the palace. He spent many hours in the archives, and the researchers welcomed his curiosity and helped him in any way they could. Mitsuru, for his part, knew that the history they fed him had been cosmetically altered to suit their needs. Consequently, he took what he could use and ignored the rest. Many of the older books were locked up with a variety of magical locks, but these were easy enough for a sorcerer of his caliber to undo.
In this way did Mitsuru glean intelligence that even spies from the south had not been able to gather after years of searching. Yet the information he truly sought lay maddeningly beyond his reach. All he had gained from his research was a vague idea of how he might acquire that knowledge…
Which is why, these days, he spent his time looking up into the sky, casting his thoughts against the clouds.
The sky in the north seemed somewhat paler than in the south—frozen, drained of color. Even though this season was supposedly the mildest of the year, the cold wind whipped around him and slipped down his collar and out the sleeves of his robe.
The harsh climate had given rise to a harsh society. It was a vicious cycle—the thought brought an almost childlike frown to Mitsuru’s face. The ankha in the north had gained their dominance by stomping out the other races. Yet even with a unified populace, peace had not come to the Empire. Now different factions among the ankha vied for power. The dual structure of the capital city stood as a testament to that. The ankha of the north, their history stained with the blood of beastkin, had become addicted to the oppression of others—it was their way of life. And so it continued as a matter of fact, and nobody caught in the cycle was any the wiser.
I’ve never seen a greater gathering of self-deluded idiots.
Mitsuru had no sympathy for the people of the north. He couldn’t even pity them. He wasn’t angry, nor did he want to censure them. In this, he was just being impartial. It would make little difference to Mitsuru if the people in the north were the most enlightened in the land.
Everything in Vision is just that—an illusion, a mirage. A fleeting dream that would disappear the moment he returned to the real world.
The very moment he became a Traveler, Mitsuru abandoned the boy he had been in the real world. He had been freed.
It was even possible that Mitsuru was now not wholly human. A Traveler was all he was. And to a Traveler there is only the objective. Nothing extraneous such as feelings of empathy, affection, friendship, or loyalty remained to hinder his progress toward his goal.
The problem before him now was how to deal with this capital city of Solebria. He would have to make plans, concrete plans. Squinting against the chilling breeze, Mitsuru schemed. He would not wait much longer.
He had been lucky. Few obstacles had lain in his path until now. It took him only three days to cross the sea separating the northern and southern continents. After wresting the sea charts from the old captain of the sailship, he had little need for the man. Once he was out on the open sea, and had a feel for direction and distance, he did not need to depend on such unreliable physical means of transport as the sailship. Magic was far more efficient. The sailship merely served as a convenient place to keep his feet dry during the crossing.
When he arrived on the northern continent, he sank the ship along with the captain in the shallow waters near the coast.
On firm land once again, he hid himself in a convenient port town to rest up, then made straight for the Imperial Capital. Along the way, fortune smiled on him again. He encountered a tax collector’s party returning to the capital from their rounds in the provinces. This saved him the effort of asking directions and gained him more valuable resources. The remains of the tax collector and his entourage were easily disposed of with a little wind magic that neatly covered his tracks. Some official might be waiting at the tax bureau in the capital for his delayed collector, but that was hardly Mitsuru’s concern.
Once in the capital, he used enveiling magic to slip inside the Crystal Palace. He took stock of the layout and let himself into the imperial quarters. After that, it was simple. He waited for nightfall and made his way directly to the bedside of Gama Agrilius VII. Waking up the emperor, he calmly announced his business.
The emperor had been quite startled, of course, and—still in his nightclothes—prostrated himself in abject fear at Mitsuru’s feet. It was a better reaction than even he could’ve hoped for.
In the south, Mitsuru had few occasions to announce his status as Traveler to anyone, nor did his easy progress require him to do so at any point. Now, standing before the emperor, Mitsuru realized exactly what it meant to be a Traveler in Vision.