Chương 166: The Return to Seiron

The journey from the northern fringes of the Danger Zone to the heart of the Williams family's mountainous duchy normally required no less than two weeks for large commercial caravans laden with goods, or for noble carriages advancing slowly under heavy guard. But for Dex and Lumia, time was not a luxury they possessed for dawdling. They moved at extraordinary speed and in complete concealment, skillfully avoiding all major paved roads, Imperial checkpoints, and cavalry patrols that swept the border regions.

They chose instead to travel through rough mountain passes and forgotten valleys frequented only by smugglers. And though the terrifying forest had been left behind them, the road was no risk-free stroll. Along the way they encountered hungry packs of Armored Wolves that attacked in organized groups, and were forced to deal with three bloody ambushes laid by seasoned highway brigands who had underestimated the appearance of the two travelers.

But the terrifying combat experience they had gained confronting the savage beasts of Falus Forest, and surviving the hell of facing Vargas and the Imperial Army, made these ordinary obstacles seem to them like nothing more than irritating children's games, deserving nothing beyond a few sword strokes or a quick fire enchantment. Dex was no longer that novice heir desperately trying to understand the nature of his power and recall the events of the story.

He had become a seasoned warrior who read his opponents' movements before they had begun them, deploying the Solar Heart mana with surgical precision. And Lumia was no longer the confused girl bereft of her memories, she had matured into a silent killer, swift as a moon's shadow. In those incidental skirmishes they moved as a lethal and terrifying duo, in complete and deadly synchrony that required no words.

After long days of exhausting travel and camping in the cold open air, the morning clouds finally broke apart to reveal the gray, towering walls of Seiron on the distant horizon. Seiron, the capital of the Williams duchy and the beating heart of the Empire's west.

The city had been built entirely from hard local granite quarried from the surrounding mountains, and was famed across the continent for its unconquerable sturdiness and the strict military character that reflected the family's history of repelling barbarian incursions. Its double walls rose tens of meters, fitted with watchtowers that launched anti-siege magical fire.

Yet when Dex's eyes fell upon it this time from a neighboring hill, he stopped abruptly, and felt a sharp, painful constriction in his chest, not from the mana but from an overwhelming sense of desolation. This was not the vibrant, proud city he remembered from the novel's description in its days of glory.

The general atmosphere surrounding the city was oppressively and unnaturally gloomy, as though a black, viscous, invisible cloud hovered above its towering spires, draining the sunlight from them and choking the lives of its people.

The Williams family's ancestral banners, those royal blue flags bearing the crest of the Roaring Golden Lion, which had always fluttered with pride and defiance in the northern winds, now hung limp and sluggish, partially lowered and fraying at their edges, as though the entire city were living in a state of continuous and silent mourning, even though Duke Marcus's death had not yet been officially announced at court.

"Here is where this nightmare began, and here is precisely where everything will end," Dex whispered in a voice like ice as he pulled his leather travel-wrap up to cover the lower half of his face completely, leaving only his two blue eyes visible, burning with suppressed fury. Beside him, Lumia adjusted her gray cloak to conceal her features entirely. They decided not to risk entering through the main gate or the noble entryways.

They entered the city through the Southern Gate, an old, busy gate usually designated for small merchants, farmers, and skilled smugglers. They disguised themselves as poor hide traders from distant southern villages, carrying sacks filled with cheap skins as cover. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Papers, you lot?" the gate guard asked in a rough, bored voice, leaning his spear against the wall. His eyes were red and ringed with dark circles from long sleepless hours and cheap drink, and he breathed with the difficulty of someone who had not slept in days. Dex stepped forward with his back slightly hunched to disguise his height, and with a sleight of hand smuggled a gleaming Imperial gold coin behind the forged commercial papers he had prepared with painstaking precision before departure.

"We are nothing but humble, small-time traders seeking our living, my brave lord guard. The road from the south was rough and thick with highway robbers, we have come to sell these skins in hopes of finding a warm supper." A glint of greed flickered in the lazy guard's eyes.

He snatched the gold coin with the speed of lightning and tucked it into his leather armor's pocket with the expertise of a seasoned professional, then made a show of examining the papers for a few moments before waving them through, without troubling himself to search their bags or request the removal of their wraps.

"Get in, rats," the guard muttered as he turned away.

"But watch yourselves, the city isn't what it was. Don't walk the dark alleys after sunset if you want to keep your heads." The moment they passed beneath the massive stone arch of the gate and entered the cobblestone streets, Dex observed the radical and frightening transformation that had come over Seiron. The main streets that had once teemed with life, commerce, boisterous laughter, and the ring of noble horseshoes were now ruled by a cautious, sickly silence.

People walked with rapid, anxious steps, their heads bowed toward the ground, avoiding eye contact with one another, as though the mere act of meeting someone's gaze might bring the charge of treason. Shop fronts had closed early, and the markets looked half-empty. But what alarmed and disturbed Dex most was not the fear of the common people, it was the nature of the soldiers who now controlled the streets.

Under normal circumstances, the city had been guarded by the local garrison loyal to the Williams family, men in the familiar blue and silver uniform, known throughout the population for their discipline and high standards of conduct. But now, the squares and streets swarmed with patrols of mercenaries. Rough-looking men bearing deep scars, wearing dirty black clothing and mismatched light leather armor, carrying serrated weapons, and wearing either strange crests or no crests at all.

They were harassing vendors, ogling women with lewd stares, and conducting themselves like a gang that had occupied a city rather than a force maintaining order.

"Mercenaries..." Dex murmured to Lumia from beneath his wrap, pretending to stop and inspect the wares of an old apple seller at a street corner to avoid drawing attention.

"And not ordinary mercenaries. Look, from the corner of your eye, at the way they stand with that slight forward lean, at the hooked daggers hanging from their belts, and the way they sweep every surface with their eyes. These are not hired soldiers guarding caravans. These are hired killers, professionals in assassination and street warfare." Dex swallowed his fury, having understood the filthy political game at once.

His uncle Sylvester, that cowardly traitor, had not been content with poisoning his brother the Duke in secret and conspiring to kill Dex in the forest. He had made a preemptive move: a silent, soft military coup within the capital. He had withdrawn or dismissed the guard loyal to Dex's father, and hired a small army from the lower Shadow Organizations or mercenary guilds that knew nothing of honor, to impose his absolute and bloody control over the city's reins.

Sylvester was replacing the traditional family loyalty with naked fear and intimidation, ensuring that when the moment came and Duke Marcus's death was formally announced, no loyal noble, no military commander, and not even the common people would dare voice a single word of objection to his installation as the new ruler and heir. The putrid stench of betrayal and conspiracy seeped from every stone in the alley and every corner of the city.

Dex breathed in the poisoned air of his city and understood with lethal coldness that he had not returned to the homeland stolen from him to receive a hero's welcome. He had just entered, of his own will, a complex and deadly battlefield. A battle that would not be decided by open armies, but by poison, and daggers in the darkness, and playing on the very edge of the abyss.