Chapter Thirty-Seven: Leaving the Country

The Kingdom of Lebozier lies to the south of Laubol, its territory only a tenth the size of Laubol’s, and its population a mere twentieth. Such small nations are scattered across the continent, their kings no more than dukes in stature, hence they are commonly known as grand duchies, and their realms as duchies.

All these states are recognized by the three major races of the continent, and their thrones are conferred by the Pontiff of the Church of Light. The Church of Light preaches across the entire continent; even among the beastmen and elves, whose faiths diverge utterly, the church has managed to find adherents. Throughout history, the Church of Light has often played the role of mediator in times of conflict.

With its doctrine of benevolence and impressive healing magic, the church generally enjoys respect—even the most disgruntled rarely dare to assail it. Yet as the ages progress, its deterrent power has steadily waned.

There is an old jest that goes: when two small countries quarrel, the Church of Light intervenes and the quarrel disappears. When a large country and a small one quarrel, the Church of Light intervenes and the small country disappears. When two large countries quarrel, the Church of Light intervenes and the church disappears.

Though but a joke, it nonetheless reflects the church’s standing—and, by extension, that of small nations. To survive, small nations must either cling to the great powers, form alliances amongst themselves, or resign themselves to oblivion.

North of the beastmen’s tribes, a league of over a dozen small countries have united to resist the beastmen. Now that conflict has lessened, the alliance has found relative stability. Yet Lebozier’s location makes its inclusion difficult; sharing a direct border with Laubol, it is beset with border disputes.

In this regard, Lebozier holds firm, and border friction is constant. Trade with Laubol is invariably fraught with discord. Some scholars suggest that Lebozier is backed by the Empire of Lyon, hoping to carve its own path and one day stand as a great power.

Thus, it has become a nexus for anti-Laubol factions. For this investigation into foreign forces, both geography and other considerations make this area the top priority.

By afternoon, Kevin and his companions finally arrived at the kingdom’s border by carriage. Kevin had dozed for much of the journey, only waking as they reached their destination.

“Tired, are you?” asked Laulu as he alighted, making casual conversation.

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” Kevin replied, shaking his head to dispel the lingering drowsiness as he followed.

Little Spoon sidled up quietly. “Have you thought of how to assign new roles yet?”

Kevin glanced at her. Clearly, these assassins were well aware of last night’s events; otherwise, with an assassin’s vigilance, they’d never have let a comrade be approached in bed without stirring.

“I have no idea,” Kevin shook his head, “but I can let them keep pestering me for parts in my book.”

Everyone: “…”

“In reality, they pester me for roles; in the book, they pester the protagonist for roles. And the roles arranged by the protagonist are, in turn, for characters who continue to beg for roles in the story within the story. Ha ha ha…” Kevin laughed. “It sounds rather amusing.”

“A bit convoluted,” Jack scratched his head.

As they spoke, the guards ahead had already stepped forward to intercept them. “Border security. Please present your documents!”

“We’re special envoys of the kingdom,” Laulu said smoothly, producing his credentials.

“Thank you for your trouble.” The guard gave them a cursory glance and signaled for them to pass.

“Can’t be helped, it’s a hard life,” Laulu said with a bitter smile and shake of his head. He’d crossed the border many times; the guards here almost all recognized him. Though he always dressed as a priest, they’d seen enough to know he was no ordinary clergyman.

For Little Spoon, it was her first time traveling abroad, and she looked about with curiosity. The massive city walls ahead exuded an oppressive air; the defensive wall here was over twenty meters thick and just as tall—about six stories high—with giant magical arrays embedded within, said to withstand even forbidden spells.

Above them, countless parrots and owls—military birds—patrolled ceaselessly. Every guard wore a stern expression, and the giant ballistae atop the wall gleamed menacingly. Most ordinary folk would feel a chill just approaching, as though the guards might draw their swords at the slightest provocation.

“So thick,” Little Spoon exclaimed, running her hand along the wall as they passed through the gate.

“Remember, you two,” Laulu warned, “Lebozier is chaotic. Brawls and swordfights break out in the streets all the time. Local women have especially low status, treated almost as objects; it’s not unusual for them to be assaulted just around a corner. The regular army isn’t like ours—they rarely intervene in anything. You two may be strong, but you should still be cautious.”

“I see,” Little Spoon nodded. “Is it dangerous for foreigners too?”

“It’s hard to say,” Kevin nodded as well. “But it’s best not to meddle.”

“Are the people there strong?” Xiao Jiu asked.

“They’re hardly weak,” Laulu replied. “In places plagued by chaos, the incapable simply can’t survive. I should be able to handle myself, but you never know when someone unexpected might appear. We only have one life. Kevin’s right—best not to interfere.”

Kevin added, “The regular army there doesn’t like people from Laubol, and your accent alone will annoy them. But the mercenaries are all right. In fact, their strength almost matches the regulars—quite unlike those back home, who’d drop their pants at a command from their captain. The reason, apparently, is that their mercenaries have gotten hold of a bunch of smuggled Laubol swords and daggers, supposedly crafted by dwarves.”

“That’s enough,” Kevin fell silent, and Laulu gave him a meaningful look; the others seemed oblivious.

Having left the city gates, they continued by carriage. Outside the walls stretched a broad plain, and by the time they crossed it, dusk had fallen and they reached the border of Lebozier.

The contrast between the two countries’ borders was stark: on one side, imposing stone walls; on the other, wooden watchtowers and a makeshift palisade—more akin to a mountain bandit camp.

“Who goes there?” called a sentry from the watchtower, aiming a drawn bow at Jack at the rear. The language was the same as Laubol’s, but the accent much thicker.

“Oh, I’m a priest, here to preach,” Laulu answered with a smile. “These are my companions.”

“Fine. The priest and bard may pass; the others must be searched.”

The gates creaked open, and three soldiers strode out, rolling up their sleeves as they prepared to frisk them. The two girls’ eyes widened in disbelief—surely they wouldn’t grope women openly? Was the local culture truly so warped? They instinctively shrank back.

“What are you afraid of?” one of the soldiers grumbled. “A pat won’t cost you an arm.”

“Ahem,” Laulu said smoothly, passing over a gold coin. “Let’s be reasonable.”

“With this many people, a single coin’s not enough,” the soldier sneered.

Laulu was taken aback. “What’s this? The price has gone up? Last time it wasn’t like this.”

“Heh.” The soldier looked smug. “Coming or not? If not, get lost!”

“Then let’s go,” Laulu declared, turning at once. The group followed without hesitation. The soldiers clearly hadn’t expected such decisiveness, but it was too late to call them back without losing face. They had no choice but to retreat, fuming.

Kevin and the others drifted aside to confer. “Getting into the city feels just like haggling at the market.”

“How are we supposed to get in?” Little Spoon worried.

“No problem. We’ll climb the wall tonight,” said Laulu, clearly experienced.

Jack asked, “Once we’re in, how do we investigate?”

“We’ll handle that part,” Laulu replied. “If there’s a problem, we’ll contact you. For now, let’s find a place to rest and wait for nightfall.”

They followed the outer wall and soon found a shabby hut—ramshackle, but better than nothing. Without hesitation, Laulu went up and knocked. “Anyone home?”

No answer came from within.

Laulu frowned and sniffed. “There’s a corpse stench.”

At once, everyone grew solemn. Laulu kicked the door open. A swarm of flies and mosquitoes burst out, and a corpse lay sprawled on the floor. It was late August; the heat and humidity sped decay.

“This place really is lawless,” Laulu shook his head. “People living outside the walls are usually those banished from the city—no one cares if they live or die.”

Kevin drew his flint. “Let’s do a good deed. Let’s burn it.”

“Don’t meddle,” Laulu stopped him.

“If we leave the body, it’ll attract vermin and could start a plague,” Kevin replied. “Let’s burn it—it’s no trouble.”

“Then let me,” Laulu said, waving his hand. A fireball shot forth, and with another wave, the earth rose up, encasing the corpse with only two vents left open. Flames roared within, the smell of roasting flesh sharp—like a makeshift furnace.

Moments later, the structure collapsed, leaving a charred, blackened figure. Only then did they see the person’s right arm was missing. The flies and mosquitoes gradually dispersed.

“My fire magic isn’t the best—this is the best I can do,” Laulu said. “Jack, use wind magic to toss the body out. Saves us the trouble.”

Jack studied the corpse for a moment, then sent a wind blade slicing off the left arm.

“What are you doing?” the others exclaimed.

“Don’t you think it looks more symmetrical this way?” Jack replied.