If I were to name all the things that made Horus a unique town, I’d be talking forever. That was because everything was different about it, right down to how it had been designed. The royal capital was the only town in Kanaria with separate paths for carriages and pedestrians. As far as I knew, even in the empire, no towns were that systematic and well organized. What’s more, there wasn’t just one path for carriages per road, but two: The left one was for those coming into the city, and the right one was for those leaving. This was so hundreds of carriages could go in and out of the city during the same time period without holding up traffic. The footpaths for pedestrians, too, were rather wide, allowing for many people from both directions to traverse them without bumping shoulders. There were also fragrant trees and grass planted along all of the roads and footpaths, giving passersby treats for the eyes and nose.
Ten main roads to the east and west, ten to the north and south, and a tessellated townscape that ran in all four directions—that was the royal capital, Horus. The layout wasn’t some grandstanding expansion that went hand in hand with an increase in population; it was a megalopolis designed that way from the start with deliberate, scrupulous planning and advanced engineering. Its designer, Kanaria’s first king, must have been quite a sharp fellow.
It sure runs circles around the imperial capital, I thought as I admired the scenery anew.
At that moment, I heard the plucking of an instrument from outside the carriage. When I looked out the window, there was a gorgeous young girl on the side of the road, strumming a lute dexterously. She was probably a traveling minstrel. As our carriage continued farther into the capital, we came across more entertainers, displaying their skills in not just music but other arts as well. One was spitting fire into the air, another was piercing a copper coin and pouring oil through the hole, and one was making monsters known as blackhounds race one another, letting spectators bet on the winners. Suzume’s—and from the looks of it, Seele’s—eyes sparkled with wonderment as they took it all in.
“Sora! What are all those people doing?”
“They’re showing their talents to passersby so that people will give them money,” I explained. “If they do a good job, their spectators are supposed to reward them with small change.”
Of course, if the townsfolk were hard up for money, they wouldn’t be giving any away. The fact that so many entertainers had gathered in this town proved just how well-off the capital and its residents were.
As we talked and the carriage made its way farther into town, the crowds gradually thinned. Finally, we stopped at an ornate, majestic building at the very center of Horus. Its location, appearance, everything about it made it clear that the residence belonged to aristocrats and that the owner held a higher status than a mere count or earl. If someone had told me the royal family lived here, I wouldn’t have been surprised. And they’d already been informed of our arrival, because attendants from all over were gathering in front of the mansion to greet us. Knights, soldiers, butlers, and maids alike welcomed us as hospitably as if we were royalty ourselves.
Finally, a silver-haired gentleman, most likely the head of the household, appeared in front of the gates. Looking at him, I could tell he was no slouch. In fact, I suspected he could get a wild tiger to stand down, he had such an intense light in his eyes. By my guess, he was probably around fifty, but there was no hint of old age or weakness anywhere in his posture. There was no doubt about it: This man was even stronger than Elgart, a Rank 1 adventurer. Who in the world was he? I could probably already guess the answer...
As it turned out, I didn’t need to, because he introduced himself the moment we got out of the carriage.
“Retainer to His Majesty Torvald, Pascal Zimm Dragonaut, at your service. Heroes of Ishka, the Dragonaut dukedom and I welcome you with open arms to the royal capital, Horus.” The moment the duke finished his introduction, his attendants behind him all saluted in unison. The knights and soldiers lined up to his right placed their right hands over their chests, while the butlers and maids to his left bowed deeply and uniformly. Their movements were as disciplined as an army’s. Not one of them was out of step. However, Suzume and Seele looked more frightened by their coordination than impressed.
I wasn’t frightened, per se, but I did feel a little intimidated. So, when Fyodor said we’d be staying overnight in the capital, he meant here, at the Dragonaut estate? Under the same roof as the kingdom’s renowned Raikou himself? Er, I’ll pay my own way, so can we just stay at an inn in town instead? I’m sure the other three would raise their hands immediately in agreement if I put it to a vote.
But despite my inner thoughts, no one in their right mind would tell the duke “no thanks” to his face after such a warm, hospitable welcome. It would be the height of rudeness. So my hands were tied. I just had to pray that the Dragonaut family wasn’t too much of a stickler for etiquette.
I really should have taught Suzume and Seele at least the bare minimum, I thought ruefully. I only knew what passed for etiquette in the empire, but it would’ve been better than nothing. Actually, Lunamaria was a graduate of the Sage Academy, so her etiquette was probably perfect. I should have had her to teach me about proper conduct within the kingdom.
Either way, there was no use crying over spilled milk. With the duke at the head of the procession, we passed through the estate gates, through the immense courtyard—and when I say immense, I mean large enough to fit Ishka’s Adventurer’s Guild headquarters—and into the mansion proper. There, in the foyer, the Dragonaut family was waiting to greet us. And when I spotted the woman I’d met in Claimh Soras’s stable among them, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. She must have noticed me as well, because she gave me a subtle smile that no one else could have noticed. She must have known I was coming, because she didn’t look surprised to see me in the least.
It was only a little later that I learned her name was Astrid Dragonaut and that she was the duke’s eldest daughter. And there was one other curious individual present as well: a young, slender girl who couldn’t stand without Astrid supporting her. As frail and emaciated as she looked, however, she smiled at us all politely and with resilience. She had to be the cursed noble daughter Fyodor had mentioned, Claudia Dragonaut. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Not in an infatuated sense, but a horrified one. Perhaps because Astrid’s soul was so robust and gleaming in comparison, Claudia’s abnormality seemed all the more prominent.
Claudia’s soul was little more than a wisp. I had the feeling that were I to lick it just the slightest bit, it would vanish. She might make it through today or tomorrow, but with a soul like that, I doubted she’d last another month, her condition was that critical. If it was because of a curse, then perhaps the person who cast it on her had the ability to tamper with souls. That would make their power rather similar to mine.
My eyes unconsciously narrowed. And when Claudia saw the expression on my face, she blinked as though perplexed by my reaction.