Chapter IV:
The Great Magus
1
After eight peaceful days of travel, the group arrived in Roid, the imperial capital of Valis.
The city’s streets bustled with great throngs of people, and both sides were lined with lively shops. The country may have been at war, but that was a faraway concern for the city’s residents.
As it was built on a delta, the buildings were short, and even the spires of the royal castle jutting up from the cityscape were smaller than those in Alania or Kanon. Instead, the castle of Valis was a sprawling complex surrounded by a moat and stone wall, taking up the greater part of the city center.
Radiating out from the castle, streets twisted and turned seemingly at random, and the simple, regular facades of the architecture made it difficult for newcomers to find their way to the castle gates. Waterways cut through the city, more obstacles to easy travel. Valis may have been built on flatlands, but the city’s layout made it a fortress.
“This is Roid? It’s smaller than I expected,” Deedlit remarked rudely, not caring that Elm was in earshot. Parn gave her a glance and a sneaky nod.
“It is small compared to the great city of Allan. But I can promise you that these are the most loyal citizens you’ll find anywhere.” Elm stopped and greeted the crowd of people in front of them, who bowed their heads and made way.
After a long ride, the group finally reached the castle gates and crossed the drawbridge into the courtyard. They dismounted there—it was custom to walk the rest of the way to the castle.
The carriage carrying Princess Fianna stopped as well, and the princess slowly descended, daintily holding the hem of her dress. The castle guards who caught sight of her called her name and waved, delighted at her safe return. Fianna waved back with a bashful smile.
Elm led the princess and a small group of knights into the castle; one of the knights led Parn’s group to a luxuriously decorated parlor to wait. It was furnished with plush sofas and a large table imported from the continent. A glass-doored cupboard was stocked with expensive-looking liquors, and a variety of goblets were arranged conveniently within reach. One entire wall was taken up by a massive painting depicting a battle with a demon, and the high window on the south wall was fitted with stained glass depicting the supreme god Pharis, which cast bright shapes throughout the room.
That single room was about the size of Slayn’s entire house.
“I guess we shouldn’t help ourselves to the booze,” Parn said to Deedlit with a question in his voice and shining eyes. Deedlit flatly refused to answer and settled on the sofa as Parn gazed longingly at the bottles.
The expensive liquors didn’t interest Ghim; he just fiddled with a dwarf-made craftwork and paced the room.
“It’s rather nerve-racking,” Slayn remarked, though he still spoke in his usual gentle manner. The furnishings didn’t interest him, and he was considering taking a book out of his bag.
“A fancy room like this isn’t meant for a guy like me,” Woodchuck complained as he perched uncomfortably on the sofa. “I feel like I’m locked up in a gilded prison… I don’t feel much like drinking, either. I hope they don’t take long.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door and two soldiers entered. Woodchuck nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound—the group couldn’t contain a laugh at his frazzled reaction.
“His Majesty the King is ready for you. Please follow me.” The soldiers bowed and motioned for them to follow.
The courteous reception from such fine royal soldiers made Parn suddenly self-conscious. The hand on his sword shook, and he couldn’t help but notice every bit of grime on his armor. He tried to wipe down the dirtiest parts with a cloth, but it was too late to do much.
As they made their way toward the throne room, Parn was impressed at the sheer size of the castle, and he glanced around restlessly, trying to take everything in. At one point, they passed a group wearing different armor from the Valis knights. The two groups saluted each other in silence and exchanged watchful glances.
“Did you see those knights?” Slayn whispered to Etoh.
“I did. What about them?”
“They must be from Flaim, the desert kingdom. They had the hawk crest on their right shoulders.”
“The Flaim Order of Knights! Are they going to war with Marmo, too?”
“It would be good news if they were,” Slayn replied. The Knights of Flaim were renowned for their bravery throughout Lodoss.
Flaim had begun as a desert tribe known as the Tribe of Storm. It had been mired in a years-long war with another desert group, the Tribe of Fire—otherwise known simply as “the savages.” A few years earlier, though, the Tribe of Storm finally achieved a decisive victory, crowned a king, and established the nation of Flaim. King Kashue, also known as the Mercenary King, was rumored to have sword skills unparalleled in all of Lodoss.
Flaim would certainly be a reassuring ally in the war against Marmo.
The group finally reached the end of the winding hallways and reached the throne room. They waited outside the door for a few moments and then were ushered into a large hall.
The throne room was huge and open, imposing and stately. A crimson carpet ran across the stone floor and up the steps to the throne—the back wall held a giant portrait of the king, with the silver cross, the Valis coat of arms, and the holy symbol of Pharis next to it. Valis knights, courtiers, and women in beautiful dresses lined the edges of the path. Parn felt almost dizzy at the sight.
I am the son of a Holy Knight, he told himself and did his best to stride down the carpet with confidence.
King Fahn sat before them on his throne. He wore a loosely tailored gown and had a beard that could rival that of a dwarf. He was at least sixty—the wrinkles etched into his face were a monument to his countless accomplishments. When he looked down at the six adventurers, his gaze was like the ocean, intense, kind, and overwhelming. Feeling those eyes on him, Parn felt almost suffocated. He dropped to one knee, and his companions followed suit.
Several others stood near the legendary king. First was Elm, the court wizard, who had changed into a magnificent white robe. Beside him was an old man in a gown embroidered with the symbol of Pharis—Genart, the high priest of the Pharis temple. Etoh was dazzled to be in such a holy presence.
Another man in a crown sat in a temporary throne beside King Fahn. Slayn noted the hawk emblem embroidered on his attire.
That must be the Mercenary King Kashue…
The Mercenary King had a black beard and sharp eyes like a bird of prey. His seat beside the King of Valis indicated that they were in an equal alliance, so Flaim must be planning to join them in the war against Marmo.
The king’s voice resounded throughout the hall, gentle but dignified. “You must be the adventurers who rescued my daughter. As King—and as a father—I thank you from the bottom of my heart. My daughter should be here to thank you in person—forgive me for her absence, but she is offering prayers of penitence at Pharis Temple to atone for her sins. She is a handful, but her mistakes in no way diminish what you’ve done. Please accept this token of my gratitude.”
At his words, one of the courtiers stepped toward Parn with a heavy sack. He kneeled and presented it with a few respectful words.
Parn decided it would be rude to refuse, so he accepted it with a bow. “Thank you for this.” The bag was heavy in his hands—there had to be a ton of gold coins inside.
This’ll make Wood happy, he thought, handing it back to the thief.
“Be at ease. I may be a king, but I am also a father welcoming those who saved his daughter’s life. I should be the one to kneel to you.” He turned to the crowd. “I want everyone here to know that I shall punish my daughter, not as her father, but as king. For sneaking out of the castle without permission and causing this trouble, she will spend the next two months confined to her room, forbidden from going out in public…”
There were a few gasps from the crowd, but most of the gathered people nodded in acceptance. Two months’ probation was a heavy punishment, and being trapped in her room would certainly feel like being in prison for a young woman.
“As for the woman who kidnapped her, she appears to be a wizard serving Marmo. I have received a report from Elm and compared it with what my daughter told me. I would like your perspective, as well—you are the only ones to survive a confrontation with her, after all.”
Parn shot Slayn a look. Slayn nodded and stood, scanned the room, then bowed deeply.
“My name is Slayn. Like Lord Elm, I studied under the great Professor Larcus at the Wizard Academy in Alania. The witch Karla’s magic was like nothing I’d ever seen. She used magic in the ancient language and Earth Goddess Marfa’s holy magic, and she cast extremely high-level spells with ease. The power of her spells might even surpass that of the late Professor Larcus. I apologize for this comparison, but not even Lord Elm has the power to strike down five Holy Knights with one fire spell.”
“I certainly do not,” said Elm. “Fire magic is powerful, but I cannot imagine our knights being defeated in one strike.”
“But that’s exactly what she did,” Slayn emphasized. Murmurs cut through the crowd. It was hard to believe that Marmo had a wizard like that as an ally, but if it were true…