Chapter 42: To the Holy See 3
The caravan moved south for three long days through the heartlands of the Claudia Grand Duchy, the breadbaskets of the country, fertile farmlands. At first glance, it was a rich, peaceful, and beautiful sight to admire—fields of grain swaying under a gentle breeze, villages tucked behind hedges and orchard walls. Yet the closer Alexius looked, the more the cracks showed.
These farmlands belonged to nobles and great landlords; the people who tilled it were farmers and slaves of many races who bent their backs working under cruel overseers holding whips and constantly hitting them. They looked hollow, unhealthy, weak, and thin from hunger. Taxes were crushing, labor was exploited, and punishments were nothing but amusement for the overseers and higher classes. Here, for the weak, tomorrow was not a promise but a question of survival. Compared to the Principality of Leo—where Alexius's reforms had begun to take root—this was a land still trapped in the old order, where the weak were little more than property or playthings.
Alexius exhaled slowly. I hope Varrus sweeps through this land before I return… enforces our law… protects the weak.
A faint sound drifted from the rear of the column—a whisper only someone like Cilia would notice. Scouts moved like shades through the woodland that flanked the highway. One returned at dawn on the third day and rode up to Alexius.
"We have pursuers," she reported in a clipped, quiet voice. "Thirty, perhaps forty riders. Fast. Banner of House Volantis."
Alexius's mouth tightened. House Volantis—the spoiled noble brat he'd humiliated back in the Veridia tavern. a private vendetta of a noble house. In some ways, more dangerous. An army acted with reason. A shamed young lord acted with wounded pride and no restraint.
"They'll catch us before nightfall," Cilia added, eyes scanning the distant road. "They're riding hard. Not sparing the horses."
Queen Amara had already drawn near, the gold of her eyes glinting under her veil. "A pack of pampered lordlings playing soldier," she said dryly. "My guards can set an ambush in the next valley and end this quickly."
From the main cart came a slow hiss. Ignis, woken from his nap, cracked one red eye open. "End this? Children. Allow me to turn the road behind us into molten rock. A permanent solution. Dramatic enough to dissuade pursuit for the next century."
Alexius weighed the offers. Both would work. Both would also leave a trail—a bloody field for scouts to find, or a scar of magic so obvious the Duchy would know something unnatural had passed. This mission depended on stealth. They could not afford to scream their presence across half the continent. By the way, why is Ignis here? He said he was becoming bored with the relocation of his new tower in my capital and left that task to his best disciples.
"No," Alexius said. "No open battle. No spectacle. We remain vigilant. Time is a pressing matter to us. Let's just hurry to the Holy See."
A small, predatory smile curved Cilia's lips. "There is one solution. A kilometer from here, the locals call it the Ghost Forest. Old growth, heavy mist, dead sound. No one dared to enter that forest; since entering, nobody had returned back. Perfect for vanishing men."
By midday the caravan slipped beneath a canopy of ancient trees where mist clung like cobwebs and the air turned damp and still. Wheels dragged in soft earth, rhinos snorted uneasily, and sound itself seemed to fade. To anyone following, it would look like easy prey struggling in treacherous ground.
An hour later, Lord Perriman of House Volantis, the eldest son of the house, burst into the forest at the head of forty retainers. The noble's face was flushed with triumph; he thought he had trapped the caravan that humiliated him. He didn't know the local story of the place he is in.
The mist began thicker than silence and death.
From the branches above came a sound of steel: black-feathered bolts hissed downward, cutting men from their saddles in perfect unison. Chaos ripped through the column before anyone could shout a warning. Wolf-kin scouts slid from the mist like living shadows, their knives quick and merciless as they hamstrung horses and slit throats before the victims even hit the ground.
Then came the wraiths.
Cilia was everywhere at once—a blur of black and silver. Her twin daggers struck with cold precision, each movement clean, fatal, and silent. Her newly risen swordsmen-rank knights followed, cutting down any who still stood. The Volantis men fought back in panic but found nothing solid to strike, only phantoms moving through fog. Screams never had the chance to build; they died before knowing the answer to what was happening.
In less than three minutes it was all over.
Lord Perriman, once so proud, was yanked from his horse by a hulking wolf-kin and thrown to the ground before Alexius. The young lord was shaking, eyes wide, his men dead all around him.
Alexius dismounted. Crushing him with the aura of a sovereign.
"You hunted me for a pathetic reason and wasted our precious time," he said. "Let me teach you what it means to bare your teeth at a lion. You alone will leave this forest alive."
He leaned down until his gaze filled the boy's world. "Go home.If you follow again, my answer will not be merciful again."
Cilia's agents moved with fast speed—removing crests and signets, taking horses, and scattering evidence to mimic a ruthless bandit ambush. Lord Perriman was shoved back toward the road on foot, sobbing and broken. He would live long enough to spread terror among the Duchy's nobility.
The caravan rolled on, going back to their way again. But they had lost a day—a precious, irreplaceable day.
Southward the land changed. The rich farmlands gave way to high, pale hills and jagged white stone. Villages grew cleaner and stricter; the people, more austere, their eyes sharp with faith. Shrines to the Human Supreme Church dotted every crossroads, tended by priests and priestesses. The only exception is that everyone is human, and no other races are to be seen in sight.
They were nearing the Holy See.
Another week of hard travel brought them to its threshold. Before them rose Sanctum: a fortified city of dazzling white marble, walls shining like polished bone under the sun. Sacred symbols carved deep into stone. The gates were manned by Templar knights: young men in immaculate steel, faces stern, eyes burning with faith.
The caravan was halted.
A high-ranking priest came forth, robes pristine, expression calm, with a giving aura of authority. Two fully armored Templars flanked him; their presence was intimidating, at least as strong as the swordmaster rank, and likely the high priest rank in the holy army.
He accepted Queen Amara's golden-sealed writ, eyes lingering on her before drifting to Calius, then to Alexius and his disguised retinue.
"A queen of the South and a merchant of the North," he said at last, his smooth voice carrying just enough weight to test them. "A curious fellowship for such a long and dangerous road. The Holy See welcomes true pilgrims and honored envoys… But these are troubled times. We must be particular about those who arrive with so many swords."
His eyes settled on Alexius and seemed to probe deeper, past leather and steel, past the calm mask. Here at the threshold of the Church, disguises were mere mirages; they can be found easily through the Holy Art skill, Truth Seer. Even a low-rank priest can do that. The only catch is they had to be in the holy land protected by the divine blessing. Only bishops and above can use the Holy Art skill, truth seer, outside the Holy Land. He politely bows down to the Alexius and greets
"Warmly, welcome to the Holy Land, Your Majesty, Grand Prince of Leo Principality Alexius Demetrios Leo. My name is Petrick Rusen, a bishop of the Holy See, the guardian head of the borderland. One of the members of the Progressive Faction. The Pope commands me to show you around the Holy Land and guard you until you arrive at the Holy See, our capital. May the God's blessing fall upon you."
[World Quest: Save the Pontiff]
[Time Remaining: 74 Days, 11 Hours, 47 Minutes…]
(Continue…..)