Chapter 14

For more than a thousand years, the Imperium stood as the largest human bastion in the Promissia Continent. Under its reign, the populace had seen unrivaled peace, order, and prosperity. However, its rule gradually fell apart.

The Imperium required vast resources just to maintain its territories. Burdened by an archaic bureaucracy, it consumed more than it could collect in taxes. As the treasury dwindled, the economy was strained and steadily worsened.

Since the turn of the century, the Imperium had found itself unable to maintain its borders. Strategic outposts were deserted; public buildings, roads, and bridges were left to ruin. Yet, the capital continued to siphon more and more wealth, leaving only crumbs for the rest of the populace.

Regions closest to the border suffered the greatest. Neglected, but pressured by harsh tax and labor obligations, many abandoned their birthplaces. All over the continent, there were signs of unrest.

The weakened border triggered a nomadic uprising in the west. To the north, the ever-tenacious northerners had defied the High Court and annexed regions with thinly veiled pretexts.

However, for the Imperium’s elites, it was business as usual. Despite the deterioration, the status quo in the central plains remained unchallenged. Their grand festivals and lavish parties that they threw for all manner of ceremonies continued without interruption.

The summer of the Elven Calendar year 4423 arrived with tidings that shocked the Imperium to its core. Arvena, one of the provinces in the central plain, had fallen.

Ever ambitious, Margrave Gottfried had unified the rebellious northerners and led them across the Great River and into Arvena. His pretext was to stop a feud between a minor lord and Lord Maurice the Earl of Arvena. In the ensuing conflict, Lord Maurice, his descendants, and inner circle went missing, presumably killed, allowing the margrave to occupy Arvena.

A massacre of a member of the High Houses and a blatant takeover of an important region created a crisis. With the army held in the west against the nomads, the Imperium couldn’t risk opening another front. However, everyone knew the margrave had crossed the line. Things wouldn’t be the same anymore.

For the northerners, further conflict was a chance for revenge against their oppressors. For the ordinary folks in the central plains, this was a prelude to disaster.

After leaving Torrea, Lansius had been living on the road for two weeks. He rode open carts when they were available at a good price, usually when the cart was half empty. But for the most part, he traveled on foot. As much as he wanted to arrive faster at the eastern part of Midlandia, he knew money might be a problem, so he tried to balance speed and cost.

As was customary, he traveled in a large group with traveling peddlers, seasonal laborers, and people running errands. The group provided protection and the added benefit of someone who could cook in exchange for goods or money. Nonetheless, he was cautious about what he ate. The last thing he wanted was to fall ill due to diarrhea. Without access to medicine, stomachaches were not just an inconvenience but indicators of potentially deadly disease.

Despite resembling a guardsman with his doublet and sword hung on his belt, Lansius took precautions and sewed the gold coins into his doublet, blanket, and the inner part of his bag. He needed protection against thieves who might blend in with the group.

As he traveled, he learned about the province of Midlandia and its complex relationship with slavery. The Imperium strictly forbade the enslavement of its citizens. However, they allowed the sale of captured beastmen or nomadic people as slaves, who were mostly brought to the Eastern Kingdoms.

However, as the Imperium declined and increasingly relied on the lords to fight their border wars, they needed another source to fund their campaigns. As a result, they began to dabble in slavery, and the Imperium officials turned a blind eye.

This situation created a sense of urgency for Lansius as he worried about the people he left behind. He believed that if any captured people from Riverstead were to appear, it would be in Feodosia. However, time and money would be in short supply, as the Eastern Kingdoms were always hungry for more slaves.

Lansius thought about the gold coins. He knew they weren’t his, but if he found Stefi or any of his friends, he would gladly buy their freedom and risk confrontation with Miranda or Sir Ian’s House.

The sliver of hope that he might save someone motivated him to hit the road through the summer sun every morning.

Despite the heat, summer traveling was the norm, as the ground was firm and solid during the season. However, at midday, travelers needed to seek cover under shade or risk getting heatstroke.

Only after the sun waned did they dare to continue until sundown or until they arrived at a town or village along the way. But that wasn’t much of a problem. Central Midlandia was bustling with towns and villages surrounded by farmlands and orchards.

These places were busy, large, and industrious. Carts and carriages filled the roads, while the markets were full of traders with their goods and wares.

The towns had shops and workshops that offered all kinds of products. One, in particular, caught Lansius’s attention. After much deliberation, he traded his shoes for new, better-fitting boots. While the soles were hard, they served him well in lessening the heat from the road.

Just one more village to go.

Lansius walked with a determined stride. Today was a lovely day, but the sun was merciless. It was so hot that the birds stopped chirping. Lansius walked alone, as safety wasn’t an issue when the road was so busy with carts and carriages.

Since his escape from Riverstead, more than a month had passed. There was a growing fear that should his friends have been captured, the slaver could sell them before he arrived. This propelled him to travel faster, even if it meant traveling alone.

Lansius had upgraded his hat to a larger one, but the summer sun still burned into his back and tanned his hands and any other exposed skin.

The occasional breeze was his only respite, while the sound of cicadas provided the only distraction from the maddening heat. When the cobbled stone was too hot even for his new boots, he walked on the roadside where the grass was cooler.

As midday approached, the road became less crowded. Most travelers had stopped to rest, but Lansius kept going for an extra mile.

By chance, he heard a squabble on a speedy horse carriage that was moving toward him.

A couple’s quarrel?

He was ready to dismiss it, but the rising voice and the harshness of the tone signaled that something was off.

“No, no, don’t, that’s dangerous, watch out!” the coachman yelled.

Lansius looked at the speeding cart that barely passed him. His eyes widened as he saw long golden hair fluttering in the wind. Mesmerized by it, he failed to notice anything else.

“Oof,” Lansius cried. The area around his face suddenly felt warm. Something heavy had smacked him and sent him falling backward. He landed on the ground with a thud and hit the back of his head. The impact nearly knocked him out and left him dizzy and confused.

Lansius groaned weakly. He didn’t know what had happened and could only see stars spinning with his closed eyes. Worse, throbbing pain came from his head, chest, and back.

“Oh, so sorry,” said a concerned woman with a lovely voice.

A girl? From where?

Lansius tried to see, but it was all blurry and painful. The metallic taste grew stronger in his mouth, so he spat into the grass.

“So sorry . . .” She kept apologizing and grabbed Lansius’s hand.

His knees felt powerless, so despite her help, he could only sit on the ground. With head still felt like spinning, he asked, “What happened?”

“You fell pretty hard. Does your head feel all right?”

“Do you see what hit me?”

“Mm . . . more or less.”

“Can you tell me? If it’s a wooden crate or barrel, I might need a bandage.” He gently rubbed his pained head.

“No, you should be all right. I’m not that heavy,” she said, while pulling her straw hat down slightly.

“Y-you fell into me?” Lansius, for the first time, managed to open his eyes and glanced at the lady. He was awestruck by the sweet-looking face, blue azure eyes, and gorgeous golden hair.

“Oh no, you’re in shock,” she said, panicking.

“Eh, no no, I’m . . . thinking . . . about— er . . . I’m just preoccupied, that’s all,” he stammered.

“Lemme check.” She moved beside him and checked the back of his head. “There’s no blood—oh, my, what a lovely hair color.”

Lansius was stunned and pulled his hat firmly down over his ears. “Please, it’s all right. I’m fine, my lady,” he added as he just remembered that blond hair usually meant nobility.

She giggled. “Relax. I’m not a noble.” Again, she offered her hand.

Her smile swayed Lansius to take her hand.

She helped him to get up with a smile and whispered, “It’s all right. I saw nothing.”

Lansius flustered and nodded quickly. “A-anyway, are you okay? I mean, you’re jumping from a running cart.”

“Seems that way . . .” She looked at her left and right side. “Just some light bruises.” She showed him her reddened elbow.

“To get away from a speeding cart with just bruises. That’s truly good luck.”

“Hehe, my friends always called me lucky. I guess I am,” she said with the most radiant smile.

Lansius’s heart skipped a beat. He turned his face around and noticed the cart was coming back. “I apologize for minding your business, but why did you jump?”

“Ah, the jerk lied to me,” she said sharply. “He said just a minor detour before heading to Feodosia, but here we are, almost a city away. He also wouldn’t stop to let me down.”

His eyes lit up. “You were kidnapped?”