Chapter 17: The Journey North - Two More Days Until They Reach the Capital City of Gremory(XII)
Year 0003, Month VIII-X: The Imperium
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Day 48.5: The Duchess Gloria Croco
Within minutes of receiving the urgent summons, a message from one of her house's elite soldiers arrived at Gloria's mahogany desk. The parchment bore the crimson seal of House Croco, its crocodilian crest seeming to sneer in the flickering candlelight. Gloria Croco was not merely the head of her ancient house—she bore the weighty responsibility for millions of Imperial citizens scattered across the vast territories under her domain.
The Empire found itself embroiled in multiple conflicts simultaneously. Military operations stretched their forces thin across the northern rebellions that demanded swift and brutal suppression. Emperor Janus, in his infinite wisdom, had summoned all the pillar houses to war. House Solmane and House Ravencrow had already departed for the front lines of the Eastern Subcontinent, their banners flying proudly as they marched to drive off the Great Evil that had been plaguing nearly half of the eastern territories like a festering wound.
The other noble houses had anticipated such a call to arms; veteran Pillars were already mobilizing their forces, their war machines grinding into motion to assist in destroying the enemies that threatened the Empire's eastern borders. However, Gloria found herself placed on a different kind of hold—one that filled her with equal parts frustration and grim determination.
House Croco had been tasked with a mission of utmost secrecy and importance: locating the missing shipment of Mytherium, the Empire's most closely guarded monopoly. This wasn't merely valuable metal—Mytherium was a substance of legend, incredibly difficult to craft and utterly unique in its ability to resonate with its user's very soul. In the wrong hands, it could tip the balance of power across entire continents.
As Gloria's sharp eyes scanned the intelligence report spread before her, certain phrases seemed to burn themselves into her vision. She had highlighted the most damning words in bold strokes of red ink: "Missing Mytherium," "Vanished into thin air," "Third party involvement," and most troubling of all, "Possible leak in imperial secure lines with possible insider or highly skilled sleeper agent."
The implications sent a throbbing pain through her temples. A traitor. In their midst. After everything the Empire had endured—thousands of years under the cruel yoke of enslavement—how could anyone among their own people even contemplate betrayal? The very thought was anathema to everything they had fought for, everything they had built from the ashes of their oppression.
Gloria's fingers tightened around the parchment until her knuckles went white. There had to be another explanation. Some external force, some elaborate deception. She refused to accept that one of their own, someone who had sworn sacred oaths to the Empire, would turn traitor for mere coin or personal gain.
Unknown to the Empire's intelligence networks, however, the truth was far more insidious than Gloria could imagine. Zargos Mercantile had spent decades carefully crafting their public facade, presenting themselves as legitimate traders while concealing their true nature as the notorious Corvus Syndicate—a name whispered in fear throughout the criminal underworld.
The leak had occurred in the most mundane of circumstances. A minor Imperial noble, his tongue loosened by expensive wine at a diplomatic gathering, had spoken carelessly of confidential matters. Unfortunately for the Empire, Mr. Bo Banal—the enigmatic leader who controlled both Zargos Mercantile and the Corvus Syndicate—had been present at that very gathering, his keen ears catching every slurred word.
At first, the information seemed too incredible to believe. But as Bo pieced together fragments of overheard conversations and cross-referenced them with his extensive network of informants, the truth became undeniable. He had stumbled upon the single most valuable piece of intelligence he had acquired in decades of shadowy operations.
Now, several days later, reports filtered in about a highly confidential item being transported with deliberate visibility—a classic misdirection tactic designed to distract those who might seek to intercept it. Bo's success in acquiring this intelligence was no accident. He had spent years cultivating sleeper agents within the noble houses of Aethelgard, the Empire's gleaming capital.
Despite the capital's legendary security measures, even the most impenetrable fortress had cracks that could be exploited by those patient and cunning enough to find them. The Imperial security forces couldn't possibly scrutinize every child who entered service in the great houses—especially those who began their infiltration at such a young age that suspicion never fell upon them.
One such child, now grown into a trusted servant, had reported that his master had been tasked with handling an item of extraordinary secrecy and value. The pieces fell into place with satisfying precision—this had to be the Mytherium shipment that had sparked such frantic activity within Imperial circles.
Rather than risk exposing his own organization, Bo had contracted the work to a newly affiliated group—expendable assets that could be discarded after a single use if necessary. However, this particular group, known as the Kirin Raiders, had proven themselves capable of operations on this scale across multiple kingdoms, sovereignties, and allied Imperial territories.
While the Kirin Raiders were inferior to Imperial troops in both rigid discipline and refined martial prowess, they were battle-hardened veterans with extensive experience in both conventional warfare and criminal enterprises. Their reputation for brutal efficiency had been earned through blood and fire across a dozen different conflicts.
The operation had begun with textbook precision. The Raiders successfully hijacked the transport vessel carrying the nobleman who possessed the precious cargo. The security detail had been deliberately kept light to avoid drawing unwanted attention—a calculated risk that now seemed foolhardy in hindsight.
Imperial soldiers had been positioned incognito throughout the area, ready to intervene if the situation escalated beyond the transport team's ability to handle. However, the Kirin Raiders had brought overwhelming numbers to bear, quickly transforming what should have been a simple interception into a chaotic hostage situation.
Imperial military doctrine prioritized civilian lives above all else—a principle so deeply ingrained that it had become an unbreakable reflex. Unfortunately, one of the hostages was the very nobleman carrying the chest they were sworn to protect. When the Imperial soldiers were forced to choose between the mission and innocent lives, their training dictated only one response.
The ensuing battle painted the river red with blood. Of the 201 Kirin Raiders who had initially boarded the vessel, only 150 managed to escape with their prize. Ten Imperial soldiers lay grievously wounded—not killed, for Imperial troops were bred and trained to be nearly indestructible war machines, but overwhelmed by sheer numbers at a ratio of nearly twenty to one.
A desperate call for reinforcements had gone out across the communication networks, reaching Captain Roderick of House Croco, who happened to be stationed nearby along the great river where his house maintained both military installations and specialized river-born units.
Roderick's forces had responded with commendable speed, though they arrived without full briefing on the Imperial soldiers' classified mission. They knew only that disguised Imperial forces were protecting cargo of immense value—the specific nature of which remained need-to-know.
The situation had deteriorated rapidly as the Raiders began executing hostages and throwing their bodies overboard in a gruesome display meant to deter pursuit. The chase had been forced to slow to a cautious tail, following at a distance while the bodies of innocent civilians floated in the raiders' wake.
Now, in the present moment, Gloria sat in her private study weighing her options carefully. The matter was serious enough to warrant the Emperor's immediate attention, yet she hesitated to place such a burden on his desk while he coordinated the massive eastern campaign.
"Haaa... what an absolute nightmare," she sighed, rubbing her temples as she felt the weight of command pressing down upon her shoulders. After a moment of contemplation, she reached for the silver bell that would summon her most trusted advisor.
"Dino?" she called as the head butler appeared with his characteristic silent efficiency. The elderly man had served her family for over three decades, his loyalty absolute and his discretion legendary. "Send word to the other Pillar Houses immediately. Tell them to conduct thorough investigations of their nobles—particularly those who maintain connections to the outer realms beyond the capital's direct influence. We must find the traitor before this poison spreads any further."
Dino bowed his graying head with practiced precision. "Understood completely, my lady. Do you have additional orders?"
"Yes. Dispatch two of the Emperor's finest arcane inquisitors to the Principality of Ogind County. Send word to Count Gremory that an official investigation is now underway and that his full cooperation is not merely requested but required. Make it clear that the authority comes directly from a Pillar House."
"It shall be done according to your will, my lady." Dino withdrew from the study with the same silent grace that had brought him, leaving Gloria alone with her thoughts in the chamber where one wrong step would send an intruder swimming with her newest batch of crocodile hatchlings—creatures specifically bred for warfare, following in their predecessors' deadly footsteps.
Gloria's eyes hardened with resolve as she stared out at the moonlit waters of her domain. "The time has come to cleanse this stain from our glorious Empire," she whispered to the darkness, "before it festers beyond redemption."
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Day 49.1: Presence of Gremory Guards
Dawn broke with the same pale light that had awakened August every morning since his journey began, his internal rhythm as reliable as clockwork even after leaving the familiar forests of his homeland behind. He maintained his established morning routine with mechanical precision, though today he was acutely aware of the additional eyes observing his every movement.
The presence of new companions in their group naturally drew curious stares, but one gaze in particular had become increasingly persistent. Milo Stone, barely older than August himself, had been studying him with fascination for several days now. For Milo, August represented something entirely unique—despite learning they were nearly the same age, there seemed to be an insurmountable gulf between August's capabilities and those of ordinary young men.
Andy approached with perfect timing, as had become his custom, carrying a steaming mug of herbal tea to ward off the growing morning chill. The changing seasons were becoming increasingly apparent—leaves that had provided welcome shade were now sparse and yellowing, and the air carried the crisp promise that winter would arrive in just over a month's time.
"Well, Milo," Andy began with the patient tone of an experienced teacher, "what August is performing represents something distinctly unique to his village's cultural traditions. These are warm-up routines followed by systematic exercises, combat drills, and magical training sequences. August maintains this regimen religiously, and while he may well be the last practitioner of these specific techniques from his lost village, those of us who witnessed them firsthand have begun adapting his methods to our own training."
Andy gestured toward August's flowing movements with obvious respect. "The results speak for themselves—though I seriously doubt any of us will ever achieve August's level of mastery. Still, if you're interested in genuine improvement, we can join him right now. I'll guide you through the basics."
And so they did. Andy carefully instructed Milo in the proper stretching positions and preparatory exercises, emphasizing the crucial importance of properly conditioning the body before attempting more intensive training. Rushing into advanced exercises without proper preparation typically resulted in injury rather than improvement—a lesson Andy had learned through painful personal experience.
Princess Mee-rka and her bodyguards, Kira and Senna, observed the proceedings with keen interest. To their trained warrior eyes, August's movements represented something far beyond mere exercise—they were witnessing a complete martial art system in action.
When the time came for combat drills, the three beastwoman warriors requested the opportunity to engage August in light sparring. For August, who had lacked proper training partners for some time, the request was more than welcome. He selected wooden training weapons as substitutes for his usual arsenal—a wooden staff as his primary weapon, a shield strapped to his left arm, and a wooden short sword at his waist for close-quarters work.
The odds appeared heavily stacked in favor of the three opponents, each of whom had achieved the prestigious rank of Category III Expert at level 85—the peak of martial achievement for most warriors. However, nervous perspiration beading on their foreheads in the cool morning air told a different story entirely.
August's presence in direct combat was intimidating enough, but his ability to seemingly vanish into natural surroundings elevated him to something approaching mythical status. If what they saw the other day were true—if he had single-handedly dispatched an entire battalion-sized force—what hope did they realistically have in direct confrontation?
Nevertheless, their warrior heritage demanded they uphold the sacred motto of their beastman tribe: "No retreat, no surrender." They launched their coordinated assault with the precision of seasoned veterans, employing tactics that had served them well in countless previous engagements.
But August was no longer the inexperienced fighter who had once struggled against multiple opponents. His recent battles with the Kirin Raiders and various bandit groups had fundamentally transformed his understanding of combat dynamics. He could now read attack patterns with startling clarity, his enhanced perception allowing him to anticipate and counter threats from multiple angles simultaneously.
His combat style had evolved into something terrifyingly efficient. While his preference remained the single, perfectly placed strike that ended fights immediately, he had developed remarkable versatility. He could deliver rapid combinations of varying intensity—weak probing strikes mixed with devastating power attacks, deceptive feints followed by killing blows, or techniques infused with pure murderous intent designed to break an opponent's will.
For August, human opponents were simply another category of dangerous predator, requiring the same analytical approach he had developed hunting the deadliest beasts of the great forest. Some creatures required cunning and patience, others demanded overwhelming force, and the most dangerous demanded every tool in his arsenal.
As the sparring session continued, Mee-rka, Senna, and Kira found themselves unable to identify a single flaw in August's defensive posture. His attacks and counterattacks flowed with seamless precision, his effective range extending from close quarters to medium distance with equal lethality. Every strike they received, even in practice, carried the unmistakable signature of a potentially fatal blow. Had these been real weapons rather than training tools, all three would have been perforated corpses within minutes.
Even Andy, who had sparred with August numerous times, could barely track the young warrior's movements. August seemed to exist in a realm beyond normal human capability, operating at speeds that challenged even enhanced perception. Andy suspected that even the notorious bloodhounds at their peak power would struggle against August's current level of skill.
After several minutes of intense but carefully controlled combat, all three beastwoman warriors found themselves flat on their backs, chests heaving as they struggled to catch their breath. Despite their coordinated efforts and considerable skill, they had failed to land a single meaningful blow on August, who appeared completely unbothered by their assault.
More unsettling still was the distinct impression that August had been studying them throughout the engagement—analyzing their movement patterns, attack sequences, breathing rhythms, and tactical preferences with the cold precision of a predator evaluating prey before the killing strike.
August was the first to extend his hand in assistance, his expression brightening with genuine enthusiasm. "Excellent work, all of you! That was truly an outstanding battle. I learned a tremendous amount from observing your teamwork—I doubt many opponents could stand against such coordinated tactics in actual combat. That was genuinely enjoyable!"
His warm smile and sincere praise helped ease the sting of their comprehensive defeat as he pulled each of them to their feet with casual strength.
The three beastwoman warriors remained somewhat stunned by how effortlessly August had handled their combined assault. He had been careful to avoid causing serious injury while still providing valuable lessons about their individual weaknesses and tactical vulnerabilities that could prove fatal in real combat situations.
"Thank you for the experience," Mee-rka replied once she had recovered enough breath to speak clearly. "That was incredibly insightful for all of us. We have much to contemplate."
Following their training session, the group took advantage of a nearby stream to cleanse away the sweat of their exertions. They were currently positioned approximately 100 kilometers from the great river, making such smaller water sources essential for their daily needs. After refreshing themselves and donning their travel gear, they began preparing for another day's journey while the rest of their companions slowly awakened from sleep.
The adults who had remained in camp busied themselves preparing the morning meal while the children gradually emerged from their bedrolls with the characteristic reluctance of youth facing another day of travel.
One increasingly noticeable change was the dramatic increase in foot traffic flowing to and from the direction of Gremory City. The steady stream of travelers, merchants, and officials provided clear evidence that they were approaching their destination. August's group had strategically positioned themselves slightly off the main Imperial road to avoid unwanted attention and potential troublemakers, though they maintained visual contact with the thoroughfare below.
From their elevated vantage point, they could observe the constant flow of people while remaining concealed from casual observation. Many travelers had established temporary camps along the roadside, taking advantage of the relative safety provided by regular guard patrols that maintained security even during nighttime hours.
However, something had clearly changed overnight. The number of guards patrolling the road had increased substantially, and their behavior suggested heightened vigilance and wariness. Their movements were sharper, their attention more focused, and their interactions with travelers had become noticeably more intensive. Some significant incident had obviously occurred to justify such increased security measures.
Wisdom dictated avoiding any involvement in whatever troubles had prompted this response. Their mission was too important to risk unnecessary complications.
With breakfast concluded and their temporary camp efficiently packed away, the group resumed their journey toward Gremory City. The children settled into the wagon with noticeably improved spirits—their gradual recovery from recent traumas was encouraging, though August knew the healing process would continue long after their physical journey ended.
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Day 49.2: Whispers of Trouble
As they rejoined the main Imperial road, their unusual convoy immediately attracted attention from fellow travelers. While their wagon possessed little aesthetic appeal, the sight of such a massive vehicle being drawn by equally impressive beasts of burden was sufficiently unique to warrant curious stares and whispered conversations.
The increased guard presence made their passage even more conspicuous, with patrolling soldiers examining every traveler with suspicious eyes. Recognizing the potential for complications, Andy volunteered to gather intelligence from other travelers who had established camps along the roadside.
When he returned after nearly an hour of careful conversation, his expression carried troubling news that he shared in carefully measured tones.
"The situation is more complex than we initially assumed," Andy began, his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention from nearby travelers. "It appears that Imperial forces have indeed visited the Principality, ostensibly investigating the massacre at the children's village. However, that wasn't their primary objective." He made subtle eye contact with each adult member of their group. "Their real target was the raiders who attacked us—they're pursuing them with considerable urgency."
He gestured discretely for continued silence. "Under the circumstances, it would be wise to keep our own involvement in recent events strictly confidential, at least until we better understand the political implications."
Every adult in the group nodded their understanding. They had all witnessed enough political maneuvering to recognize potential complications when they arose. More importantly, they agreed to shield the children from this information to prevent unnecessary anxiety during their final approach to what they hoped would be a sanctuary.
The group resumed their journey with renewed caution, maintaining their steady pace toward the regional capital while remaining alert for signs of trouble. The road ahead stretched endlessly toward the horizon, carrying them inexorably toward their destination and whatever fate awaited them there.
As the day's travel concluded and they established their evening camp, they found themselves positioned just 150 kilometers from Ogind's regional capital city. One more day of travel would finally bring them to their intended destination—a prospect that filled them with mixed emotions ranging from excitement to apprehension.
For August, the approaching arrival represented both an ending and a beginning. The next chapter of his journey would unfold within city walls rather than forest paths, presenting challenges he had never before faced. Meanwhile, Marcus felt the familiar stirring of homecoming after months of absence, though he wondered what changes awaited him in the place he had once called home.
The future remained unwritten, but tomorrow would bring them face to face with whatever destiny awaited them in the great city of Gremory.