The merchant fleet sailed north along the tributary of the Chishui River, passed through Yinguang City, and entered the Grand Canal leading to the capital.
Tasa recalled reading in the *Graycastle Chronicles* that this land was still a barren wasteland two centuries ago. To transport silver from nearby mines back to the capital, King Wemberton I mobilized the stonemasons' guild and nearly ten thousand laborers. Over twenty years, they carved a canal linking the capital to the silver mines. Around the mining site, a city gradually took shape, later named Silverlight City by the former king.
Yet the scene before him now bore little resemblance to the desolate wasteland of two centuries past. Dense farmlands stretched along both banks of the canal, while villages dotted the horizon. This reminded him of the Kingdom Avenue in Border Town—once completed, it would likely transform the foot of Desolate Mountain into a bustling settlement.
"Did I hear you were from Wangdu before?" A woman's voice rang out from behind.
Tasa turned and recognized Margery, the caravan's owner. He nodded. "I lived in the inner city until becoming a Palace Guard." "How does it feel to return to your old haunts?" "Honestly, it's fine," he replied. "Without Your Highness's arrangement, I'd have preferred to stay in Border Town. Though the capital is bustling, it feels suffocating." For a lower Noble like Tasa, he thought.
"Is that so?" Margery smiled. "How much do you know about Roland Your Highness?" "What's the matter?" The question sent a chill through his spine.
"I think he's truly an enigmatic figure. Though his reputation was notoriously bad in the capital—rumors you've surely heard—Border Town proves him completely different. His actions and thoughts defy all logic," she paused. "If the steam engine is proof of his erudition, why are his warriors so extraordinary?" Tasa glanced at the First Army soldiers on the deck. To blend in near the capital, they wore no firearms or uniforms, only assorted leather armor and wooden spears, resembling caravan guards. Most had never left the Western Frontier before. Though curious and chattering, not a single one removed their shoes or laid down their weapons.
In contrast, many of the caravan's mercenaries had already retreated into the ship's cabin to escape the sun. The few remaining on deck removed their shoes, set aside their weapons that hindered their movement, and lay down in the shade.
"I'm not entirely sure either," Tasa said with a helpless shrug. It wasn't that he wanted to hide anything, but he genuinely didn't know—since the Fourth Prince arrived in Border Town, everything had changed drastically. "Perhaps Your Highness has been feigning your identity all along." "Is that so?" Margery remained silent, then suddenly pointed forward. "Look, that's the capital's city wall. We're almost there." At the horizon, a hazy grayish-blue appeared. Even standing there, one could sense the wall's grandeur—this was the finest work the stonemasons had produced before their disbandment, unmatched in height and thickness in Graycastle. It was said that the wall's interior even contained rooms and passages, capable of accommodating nearly a thousand soldiers for rest, enabling seamless patrols and rapid reinforcements.
When the city wall was clearly in front of Tasa, the fugitives' figures also entered his vision.
A large crowd of civilians had gathered outside the outskirts of the royal capital. They had erected makeshift shelters along the city walls, with white smoke rising from the hearths in front, as if they were cooking porridge. At present, these people still had enough food and appeared in good spirits. However, the royal capital's relief provisions would not last indefinitely. Once the Nobles had selected suitable laborers, they would send troops to drive them away.
"What are you planning to do?" Margery asked curiously. "Send Your Highness's soldiers to recruit people?" "No, that's not only inefficient but also draws unwanted attention," Tasa shook his head. "To get things done in the capital, you either bribe officials or hire rats—something you know all too well." "Indeed," she smiled. "I meant to warn you, but it seems unnecessary. If you need money, just come to me." Margery handed him a token—a deep red stone with a translucent surface and an engraved line of text he had never seen before. "A hundred gold dragons or less can be withdrawn directly with this." "Thank you." Tasa took the token.
"Needn 't be," she said with a light laugh, "Your Highness will repay me this sum with interest." Upon reaching the canal wharf, Tassa had the First Army soldiers wait in the outskirts to await news, keeping to avoid the Royal Capital patrol's sight. He then entered the city with the caravan. As they passed through the gates, he noticed the guards had tightened their checks—clearly preventing refugees from the eastern border from entering.
As he entered the city, the first thing that caught his eye was a row of towering gallows.
Four women with their hands bound were hanging upside down, emitting a foul stench under the scorching sun. The sight made Tasa frown immediately.
"Tifico's citywide witch hunts have claimed countless lives," Margery sighed. "But that's not entirely accurate—some witches were just Noble's tired stock, now sold off. It's hard to say whether they'd rather remain imprisoned in the dark or escape this torment sooner... Either way, may they rest in peace." During his six months in Border Town, Tasa had come to understand that witches weren't as unforgivable as the Church claimed. Beyond their peculiar abilities, they were no different from ordinary people. Judging by the women's size, the smallest on the gallows was probably just fourteen or fifteen years old. This realization filled him with a sense of oppression, and the feeling of suffocation returned.
The outer suburbs of the capital had seen little change over the past six months. While the main thoroughfare facing the city gates remained paved with bluestone, all other side streets and alleys were still muddy. The midsummer sun had etched deep cracks into the earth, and every passing carriage stirred up a cloud of yellow dust. It was hard to believe that the kingdom's capital, once a bustling metropolis, had fallen behind in urban development to a remote town beyond the western frontier.
After crossing two streets, the caravan headed toward the market district. Tasa and Margery waved goodbye, then Tasa walked alone into a narrow alley.
He walked with practiced ease to the entrance of the 'Underground Bandleader' tavern and pushed the door open, stepping straight inside.
"Hey! We're only open at night!" someone shouted.
Tasa ignored the question and strode straight to the bar. "Do you remember me?" he demanded, his voice low and stern as he stared at the burly man scrubbing glasses. "You must be some stone-crawling bug, oblivious to the tavern's late hours?" With a dismissive flick of his glass, he lifted his head with a grimace. Two waiters tidying the tables soon joined him. "Now count three—Tas, Lord Tasa?" "Yes," Tasa spat sideways, "I have a lucrative deal to share with you."