He'd never been much for city life, but staring out at the vast sea of bustling people before him, Gemas Hawthorn was momentarily at a loss for words. He was roughly five-foot eight-inches and didn't stand out much in the crowd, so his temporary daze was not noticed by the majority of onlookers. Moreover, his dirty-blond hair cropped close to the sides and slightly longer at the front was common amongst most humans.
In short, he tried to make his appearance as utterly 'normal' as it could be.
He was an agent of the Queen, and had worked his way up to his current standing from the moment he had gotten involved with the Eight Finger's syndicate in Northern Roble during the Shrush-Demi Human invasion, but that wasn't something that he wished to dwell on. The past was the past, and the present was the present which was why he was inwardly struggling.
He grunted, adjusted his darker coloured attire and made to walk somewhere less crowded and noisy within Camelot's streets.
He needed to think long and hard.
Pulling out a piece of parchment from his burlap sack which he carried over his back, he made his way towards one of the many taverns present within Camelot. It was almost second nature at this point, and no he wasn't exactly a drunkard. Taverns were the best locations to garner information and at the same time, he could always rent a room to muffle out the din of the noises around him.
As he walked into the tavern, his ears were immediately blasted by roaring laughter and the clinking of beer mugs. The only oddity in the room was that both commoner and Nobleman were present in the same area.
Frankly, the tavern's commodities and services were cheap, which allowed even poor sods and commoners to enjoy their own drink, but it was simply absurd how exquisite the ale, rum, and beer being sold was. Even someone like himself had never tasted such a brand with both quality and an affordable price. Of course, it was also because of this quality that the Nobles were drawn in regardless of how they felt about lowering themselves to drink with low-borns. At the very least, with the aristocracy spending time with commoners, the differences between the two sides was gradually closing. It didn't mater if one was a commoner or nobleman when drunk, instead they were all just light-weight bastards.
He digressed. His purpose in coming to the tavern wasn't to observe others.
He moved towards the counter and presented a finely forged list of documents pertaining to his current alias as 'Gemas Hawthorn,' a paper-pusher that had once served in the Queen's treasury. He'd forged the documents himself in the fashion of authentic Roble. There were no faults to be found on it as it was fairly simple for him to make when compared to how diligent he was when drawing out maps.
Still, he felt somewhat uneasy at the small smile that graced the Tavern owner, Lady Davinci's lips when she stared at the papers. She was a beautiful woman, and he wouldn't be surprised if her portrait could be sold on an international level, but here she was just running a simple tavern, though admittedly, he hadn't exactly browsed through what she was selling yet.
She wore a blue and red blouse whose tailoring seemed beyond anything he'd ever seen from a seamstress. It must have been made from a Grand-Master whose level he could only try to fathom.
"Is there a problem?" He asked gruffly, his uneasiness had turned into weariness in the ensuing silence. He was a man of little words, but it did not mean that he would just stare when things weren't going his way.
Davinci brushed back a lock of her dark hair which framed her face on either side and let out a small laugh. "No problems at all. Your papers said that you wanted to rent a single room, right?"
He nodded.
Davinci passed him a small key, numbered 007, which he took gingerly. It was the number of the accommodations that he would be staying in.
Just as he stepped forward to walk passed her and towards the second floor which housed all the rooms, he stiffened when he heard a soft whisper in his ears. "A fine hand you have, but your ink is still fairly wet. Perhaps leaving it by a fire to dry next time?"
He turned his head sharply to stare at Davinci who only winked at him mischievously in return.
T-This Tavern Owner, just what kind of person was she? He couldn't help but furrow his brows.
Wet ink? He'd forged the papers days ago and had even left it out in the sun for extra measure. Clearly her words were just a playful jab at him for something else that she'd noticed, but the fact that she did notice may mean that she may be in the same field of work.
Taverns were locations where even the tightest of tongues could be loosened by heavy liquor.
Davinci was the Tavern Owner. She'd be around to listen to the worries and ranting of the people twenty-four-seven.
It was almost too ideal if he considered her to be someone like him. It was basically flawless, but where did she come from and could she be from a hostile territory?
He nearly stopped in his tracks to question her, but it was too late.
"Another drink Lady Davinci!"
"Yeah Yeah! Bring that Vodka stuff, my friend needs to try it!"
She'd already left to attend to the other customers.
He shook his head. Spy or not, he could tell with his experience that she meant no harm. In fact, he had seen the amusement in her eyes when he had stiffened at her words. An Ex-operative then, someone he may consider befriending.
"Hey stop taking away Lady Davinci's attention!"
"Will you not accept my marriage proposal today, Lady Davinci. My father's a Duke!"
Then again, women that were too beautiful were hard to deal with. He preferred his wife instead. Thinking of her made his expression loosen, but at the same time he grew pensive.
He needed to think.
He walked up to the second floor of the Tavern, entered his assigned room, and dropped himself over the fresh bed adjacent to a small desk.
To migrate or not to migrate?
Pavel's choice had been obvious from the moment he hastily moved his family out of Northern Roble and into Camelot. Pavel was telling him how his daughter Neia Baraja was giving him the silent treatment while his wife demanded an explanation as a result.
Gemas had conveyed his sympathies to Pavel but now had to consider his own plan of action.
Camelot was the safest land in all of Roble, and if the Evil Deities were returning just as the Holy Maiden had, then it was the only haven in all of Roble.
He continued pondering over the matter. In truth, it was the entire reason that he had not yet decided to report back to Calca
He could understand why Pavel had been so adamant in his decision, but he was different from Pavel.
His wife, Selena Hawthorn was an Adventurer working across Re-Estize and the Holy Kingdom. She wouldn't just suddenly agree to change the location of their home without thorough convincing.
She had spirit she did, but it always caused him to worry for her at times as she mainly worked as a freelance Adventurer. She didn't have her own team and opted to employ herself as the vanguard of other teams.
He sat up on the bed, suddenly getting an idea.
Evil Deities.
Sacred Swords.
It was hard to truly comprehend the concepts.
Maybe if he went and talked to the Holy Maiden, he'd be able to make up his mind by getting a grasp of the situation. That, or he could try Davinci, she seemed like she knew more than she let on. Perhaps it was time to look at what products she was selling.
Information was always key, and he knew when and where to be decisive.
The amount of people that had migrated to Camelot was simply staggering. No matter where Shirou looked, the streets were filled and the houses were fully occupied. It was to the point that Medea and Merlin had begun to transmogrify Camelot's surrounding trees into wood cabins for living use. Many people spectating could only speculate about what tier of magic that they were using.
Unfortunately, the magic was on a level beyond their understanding.
It was only expected though that the Holy Maiden could employ such capable Magic-Casters.
Inadvertently, the image of Roble's Valkyrie that Agravain had imprinted upon the minds of the current residents only further solidified. In the same line of thought, it was also because of Agravain spreading such information that Anya and Eric were forced to restrain their grudges over the matter regarding their children. Only one of the three Southern Nobles that had led the southern army was largely unaffected by the new developments, and that was Nathan.
Nathan's daughter was kept captive by Merlin so she had remained fairly safe. Sure, Merlin wasn't someone Shirou actively trusted around women, but he gave the man the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Merlin was already having enough trouble with Scathatch's relentless pursuit.
A wry smile worked its way onto Shirou's face. Merlin was keeping very low profile at the moment, and for good reason. He shouldn't have enough time to flirt with other women when one was dead set on getting even with him.
Merlin was reaping what he'd sown, so Shirou largely stayed out of the matter.
Instead, he began to focus on his next plan of action, and that was something far more difficult with Merlin currently pestering him.
"The witch will listen to you," Merlin insisted, barring his way with a hand. "My clairvoyance predicts the future."
He raised a brow, thoroughly unmoved. He stared at Merlin flatly. If Merlin really could predict the future, then the man should know exactly what his answer would be. "Then what does your clairvoyance say now?" he said flatly.
Beads of sweat began forming over Merlin's brow as he answered rather awkwardly. "That no future is predestined?"
He shook his head. This wasn't something that he should be bothering himself with at the moment. Instead there was a more pressing issue that had his attention. He paused momentarily just as he was about to leave Merlin behind.
"On second thought, I could be willing to help if you happen to know what Nero and the others are doing?" He frowned uncharacteristically, a hand scratching at the back of his head.
Nero had left him a note telling him that she would be away for a while, and he was relatively okay with that, but that was only until he realized that it wasn't just Nero that had left. The others from the mausoleum had also began travelling out one by one.
He had no intention of stopping them though as he was gladdened that they were taking their own initiative to enjoy their lives, but there was something strange in their movements.
Cu went to E-Rantel.
Nero to the Baharuth Empire.
Gilgamesh and Enkidu on a Golden Carriage.
Scathatch safe-guarding the Mausoleum.
And the others dispersed elsewhere like a large net.
It was almost as if everything was being co-ordinated based on a plan and objective of sorts that he was made unaware of.
The fact that Merlin did not particularly agree to his offer immediately when he was basically dead if Scathatch catches him was enough of an indication. What exactly was going on and what were they trying to do?
Merlin ended up not telling him.
"Whatever could you mean?" Merlin furrowed his brows and feigned ignorance.
In response, he dropped the matter entirely. He would not get an answer from Merlin as he had already tried asking Agravain, Bedivere, Lancelot, and the other Kngihts of the Round who remained tight-lipped. Merlin not answering was only to be expected. Still, he had come close to getting an answer when he had asked Mordred. She wasn't a good liar in the first place, and he'd seen through her lie of not knowing anything in an instant. The level stare that he had given her was enough to throw her into a fluster in which she let slip a few trace words in her haste to come up with a reasonable excuse in which she had none.
She had run away, feeling mortified.
Mordred was probably his best bet to find out what was going on.
She wasn't exactly the most reliable Knight in regards to holding onto a secret and she probably understood herself best so she simply evaded the issue with a red face whenever he brought up the topic.
He had believed that Merlin was worth the try, but now that he thought of it, he himself wasn't adept enough at lying to be able to tell if Merlin was telling him the truth in the first place. Might as well leave the womanizer to his fate.
"Fate can be defied," Merlin spoke up, as if reading into what he'd been thinking.
His lip twitched in exasperation. If he could read the future, then why would he put himself in such a misfortunate situation?
"There are some things that must be done," Merlin nodded his head sagely. It was evident that despite the risk to his life, he not did harbour any regrets. "You'd do the same if it was Arturia, and no; deny it as you like, but my clairvoyance is never wrong."
"…" Crafty bastard, but Merlin basically just killed himself. "Then die."
If Merlin's clairvoyance was never wrong, then Scathatch would surely catch him one day.
"W-Well, there can be exceptions for a renowned Caster like myself," Merlin coughed into his hand and shamelessly pretended as if he had not erred in any way.
Unfortunately, he'd had enough with dealing Merlin. Speaking of which, the person he'd wanted to see was finally making her way back into Camelot's audience room where Merlin was pestering him.
Just as he noticed her, she noticed him, and Merlin saw him noticing her.
All three of their eyes seemed to meet at the same time.
Clairvoyance told Merlin what was just about to happen, and for the sake of his own future, he tried to change it.
"Surely this matter can wait indefinitely," Merlin raised his voice and tried to cover Shirou's view. "What the others are doing may just be a pleasant favour for you and nothing else."
Left unsaid, Arturia had warned Merlin not to tell Shirou about how the others were going around trying to establish a faction to quell the New World's conflicts. It was the fastest way to create a world without a need for Heroes where Shirou could finally lead a normal life. If Shirou ever found out, how could he possibly keep still? At the very least, a part of Arturia did not feel comfortable managing the Holy Kingdom Camelot by herself while Shirou went around helping everyone else.
Worse, what if he got hurt doing something stupid?
It was almost by instinct that Arturia had come to this conclusion. She'd woken up panting heavily one night to a dream of Shirou throwing himself in front of an enemy's sword just to save her.
He was a dummy.
A big idiot who didn't understand that she'd rather see herself hurt then him.
It was the first selfish thing that Arturia had ever asked of Merlin and her Knights, and all of her Knights took her order seriously.
Merlin knew if he let the secret slip, then it wouldn't just be Scatatch coming after him.
He'd be a dead man from all the ire.
"I'll talk, I'll talk alright," Merlin changed up his response when he saw that his earlier words were ineffective.
Shirou glanced at Merlin once, then directly bypassed him to stand in front of the person he wanted to question more. He didn't want to take the risk of Merlin giving him a plausible lie.
"Do you happen to know what happened to Nero and the others?" He asked Arturia directly. She had just walked into the audience room and had frozen from the moment she'd heard what he and Merlin were discussing.
It was suspicious, and besides, he'd never known Arturia to be good at lying, and it was trait that she shared with Mordred.
Her inability to hold her neutral expression was saying it all. She could be steadfast and firm in her decisions only because she believed herself to be in the right. What did it mean then if she was in the wrong?
Gradually, he could see the way her mouth slightly opened, then closed. She didn't speak though and was being strangely adamant with him. "They went out," she said evasively.
Finding no fault in her words, she straightened her back and tried to act natural.
"Where?"
She deflated in the next second at his question.
Her eyes seemed to be swimming indecisively in her pondering.
He considered pressing Arturia further, but relented when an Enforcement Knight walked into the room and shouted out a report. "An emissary from Northern Roble has arrived and wishes for an audience!"
Arturia visibly brightened. "Granted!" Her voice echoed in the air as she took off in escape.
Shirou was getting a strange sense of Dejavu at the moment.
In some ways, Arturia really was similar to Mordred.
Still, as curious as he currently was about the situation, if even Arturia was keeping the topic away from him, then why couldn't he just trust them rather than worry?
They were all Heroes in their own rights after all.
The Land of Shadows expansion pack was the literal bane of existence towards any undead, or demonic attribute Player in YGGDRASIL. The Raid Boss and sub Bosses in that zone located within Midgard had high hostility to any and all demonic creatures. In terms of lore, it was believed by the NPC's of the Land of Shadows that all undead and demonic creatures were beings that escaped passed the confinements of the Gate of the Land of Shadows.
Undead and demonic players agrroed the Raid-Boss of the Land of Shadows on sight or presence alone.
Just remembering his guild's first run through of the expansion left Ainz with a chill travelling down his back. They'd suffered a team-wipe in an instant after they'd encountered the keeper of the Land of Shadows, the Witch, Scathatch by chance. Her weapon alone had the ability to insta-kill undead with a single stab, and that wasn't even counting the countless runes and spells she had at her disposal.
They didn't even stand a chance.
Ainz recalled that he and his guild mates had only ever been able to clear the Land of Shadows by keeping low and resorting to surprise attacks. Otherwise, kill the boss before she could use her skills and the battle could be won. In fact, this was the winning approach. While one raid party distracted Scathatch, another raid party would be entirely made up of debuffers to keep her in a weakened state.
As a known World Enemy, Scathatch was a monster.
Ainz simply couldn't image what it would be like if she was actually around in the New World that he found himself within. Would she be just as over powered as she was before? Or would she be constrained without YGGDRASIL's system to provide her the status of Raid Boss? Either way, he did not wish to find out.
The fact that Cu Chulainn was around was enough of an alarm for him.
Factor in a mini-Scathatch and an almost uncanny survivability, and that was Cu Chulainn, the student of the Witch of Dun Scaith.
He wasn't as much of a monster as compared to Scathatch, but his legend alone inspired out of Celtic Folklore painted him as one of Irelands greatest warriors. It reflected in-game as it quickly became evident that he could be even harder to deal with than Scathatch at times. Almost always, whenever Scathatch was raided, Cu would be the main problem as he directly disrupted the parties made by the Players to aid his teacher.
His skills were relatively simple in regards to YGGDRASIL's mechanics, but add his skills and techniques together, and Cu was not a person to be taken lightly. He was considered the Land of Shadow's Sub-Boss. Almost unkillable too, like he had numerous lives. It was a running joke that he was Irish Hercules for this reason, and if Hercules didn't already exist in another YGGDRASIL expansion pack, perhaps it would have been funny, but Ainz digressed.
The game and reality had always been separate then, but right now, he wasn't so sure.
These fools in the Adventurer's building did not know just who exactly they were making fun.
Panic began to swell from within Ainz's being as he could see veins forming on Cu's forehead, but almost an instant later, his panic was forcibly quelled by his constitution, allowing him time to think clearly.
Cu was distracted, and he had not been noticed yet.
Ainz was also undead, and considering how actively Cu and Scathatch hunted undead in the Land of Shadows, he would do well not to get noticed. Gae Bolg, the spear both Cu and Scathatch used had an uncanny ability to react to demonic presences. In which case, he was fairly safe considering his quick equipping of a concealment item, but it was only a temporary measure. Worse, he turned to his side.
Narberal Gamma, one of the NPC's of Ainz Ooal Gown stared at him in confusion, her face tilted to the side. Her presence wasn't concealed. The realization of a fatal error suddenly dawned on Ainz at that moment.
None of the NPCs in Ainz Ooal Gown had ever encountered any bosses from YGGDRASIL's expansion packs. Most of them had only been used to stand guard over the Great Tomb of Nazarick. She didn't know how deadly Cu could be let alone that she should have had activated a demonic aura concealment spell in his presence.
If Ainz had pupils at the moment, his eyes would be dilating as he saw Cu suddenly frown in his direction, the red spear hung loosely on his back thrumming with a faint red glow. Suddenly, the mockery directed at him didn't seem to matter to Cu as much as glancing around through the crowd around him.
Fuck.
Ainz had always been a cautious individual, and this aspect of himself had never changed.
The situation was beyond just bad, it was horrendous. As he had cast the spell [Perfect Warrior,] he had gained the attributes and stats of a level 100 Warrior, but in exchange, he could not activate any spells or freely use his mana for anything. His mana and mana regeneration were flat out at zero. He couldn't even cast a concealment spell on Narberal even if he wanted to.
He had to be quick.
In a single motion, he pulled out a bracelet from his storage and slapped it down onto Narberal's wrist. She nearly yelped in surprise if not for the utterly serious aura he was conveying through his body language. The bracelet was another concealment item.
Ainz was always prepared, or at least he tried to be. He knew the weaknesses of the [Perfect Warrior] skill, so he'd made preparations to accommodate before hand.
It seemed that he was just in time though as he noted the dull crimson hue exuding from Gae Bolg dwindle and disappear.
Still, this didn't stop Cu from pinpointing an exact location.
It was to Ainz's discomfort that Cu was now staring directly at both him and Narberal Gamma.
"We're leaving," Ainz was quick to say.
"Huh?" Narberal replied in response. In fact, Ainz didn't even give her much time to consider anything before leading her out of the establishment itself. "But Lord Ainz, didn't you want to complete an objective? Why are we being cautious of insects?"
Ainz didn't bother answering. It was only when he was out of sight of the Adventurer's building that he placed both of his hands on Narberal's shoulders and spoke to her solemnly in a back alley. "That was not an insect." He didn't even bother correcting the way she called humans. "Did you see him? The one in blue?"
Narberal nodded slowly. Although she could feel from her inspection that the man in blue was somewhat formidable, but she didn't feel like he was worth having Lord Ainz pay such high regard towards. "Shall I crush him?" She couldn't help but ask, somewhat dissatisfied with the situation.
"No, Do not approach that man without my permission," Ainz was particularly strict with this order. The grip he had over Narberal's shoulder even tightened somewhat to help convey his point. "You do not know just who it is that you're facing," saying that, he went silent.
He had wanted to be an Adventure both to gain information and to test the differences between the New World and YGGDRASIL, but Cu's presence made him more cautious. What if he wasn't the only one?
King Arthur of the Round.
Scathach of Dun Scaith.
And God's forbid, Gilgamesh of the Grand Treasury.
The fact that Narberal and all of the other NPC's in the Great Tomb of Nazarick had no idea of the capabilities of such strong bosses left Ainz greatly worried. Still, he would not back down from vengeance if any dared harm the NPCs he and his guild mates had created together.
"We're going back to the tomb."
He was quick to make a decision.
It was time. Ainz Ooal Gown and the forums of YGGDRASIL had devised many strategies to deal with the various new Raid Bosses scattered around YGGDRASIL. It was imperative that he impart such knowledge to Demurge and Albedo to begin teaching the others for their own safety.
"B-By your command," Narberal stared at the utterly serious expression on Ainz's face and couldn't help but admire the Leader that had not once abandoned them in the Great Tomb. "Narberal Gamma hears and obeys."
She lowered her head, and staring at her, Ainz couldn't help but pat her head gently like a parent to a child. Narberal's face flushed, but she seemed exceedingly contented.
In the next instant, Ainz dropped his [Perfect Warrior] skill and directly used his magic to travel back to the Great Tomb with Narberal.
Moments later, in the same area that they had just left from, Cu appeared, his brows furrowed in thought.
Was he wrong?
With no proof, he could only speculate.
Heroes of the Capital Interlude 2: Emperor?
No matter where a person travelled throughout the New World, the heat of the Sun's ray's shining down from the sky would always be consistent. Near the Baharuth Empire, it was even more so due to the fairly low topography of the region. It was in the midst of spring nearing summer and the weather was causing the area to became fairly humid.
Farmers and the common folk were wiping away their sweat from their faces using the scruff of their worn tunics while a carriage rolled by unimpeded over the countryside. The crest of the Royal family was emblazoned on the upper left segment of the carriage doors, and a small platoon of armoured Knights rode alongside the carriage's base at a leisurely pace.
The carriage was on a return trip from a short delegation that had to be attended to auction off several plots of land originally belonging to several deceased Nobility.
The Baharuth Empire had gone though a bloody purge to eliminate the cancer that was the corrupt Nobles dragging the Empire down by the ankles. Almost all of the Empire's upper management were uprooted and executed for their atrocities and all that was truly left were the reparations for the affected Knights and commoners.
An Emperor's job was never over. More so for the most talented, and Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, the current Emperor of the Baharuth Empire was one such man. At twenty-Two, he'd ruthlessly eliminated all corrupt Nobles and was in the midst of rebuilding the infrastructure of the Baharuth Empire form the ground up.
He did not recruit through social standing or reputation, but through ability and achievement. A commoner could be just as good as a Noble. If one was skilled at fighting and leading, then he'd make the individual an Adjutant of the army, even going as far as commander.
Jircniv did not discriminate, and was a just yet practical ruler. Still, the rumours of the Bloody Emperor were rampant among the common populace, and it wasn't something that would change quickly. After all, he'd figuratively drowned the capital of the Empire in a sea of blood.
None who'd participated in illegal or corrupt actions were spared, and that included his own kin.
He was perceived as Heartless, Cruel, and Inhumane, and yet none of his subordinates spoke ill of him even in private.
He was a devoted ruler. One with a vision to better the Baharuth Empire, and for that he would need help.
'A bunch of incapable scatterbrains.'
Inside the travelling carriage, Jircniv was resting his chin over his hands in contemplation. By killing off almost all the High-Ranked nobility, he was basically running the Empire through the sheer strength of his own intelligence and capability. In truth it was exhausting, and he had hoped that he could find a suitable secretary amongst his allied nobles during the delegation to help ease the burden.
Unfortunately, he was wrong.
It wasn't that he doubted their loyalty, but because they simply were too reliant on him to do anything remarkable. What he needed was an individual that would both criticize his management plans, and offer alternatives when necessary. As prideful as he was in his ability, he could admit that there was no such thing as a perfect ruler.
He could make mistakes. He was fallible.
He sighed ruefully, but it didn't matter if he found anyone yet or not. He was still young and had plenty of energy. He could handle the Empire on his own for the time being, but damn it if he wasn't getting annoyed with all the documents that needed his approval.
Moving on, the heat of the day largely unaffected him.
The inside of the carriage was climate controlled by magic, making the interior always remain at a comfortable temperature regardless of how it was outside. It was why Jircniv could still remain dressed in his Emperor's robes. It was a long garment fashioned in red and gold that resembled the old Praetor attire of an ancient civilization known as Rome. An interlocking bronze-coloured vest attached to long black cloths hung from over his shoulders, similar to a mantle.
A crown was adorned on his head, partially hidden by his blond hair which was kept slightly curled on the bangs.
He was not particularly exited to get back to his office within the palace, but he wasn't one to slack either.
He knew when and where he could relax, and his carriage was one of the only places where he could keep to himself.
The journey back was something akin to a breath reliever for him, but he soon noticed something odd. Why did the shaking stop?
Even if the inside of the carriage was insulated with magic, it didn't mean that the wheels and terrain that the wagon was rolling over would remain flat at all times.
He arced his head to peer out the window, and sure enough, the scenery around him was not moving.
"Why did we stop?" He called out absently to the coachman driving at the front.
"Well, the crowds are in the way, my Lord."
The response was swift. The carriage had already travelled the majority of the distance to the capital of the Baharuth Empire, and had already entered its streets. Buildings of brick and cobblestone were on either side of the road the carriage was on.
"Hmm," he hummed, somewhat taken aback. "Do they not see the crest of the Emperor?"
The reason the Emperor's crest was displayed on his carriage was to reveal his identify as the Emperor. Naturally, none in the Baharuth Empire would dare obstruct his carriage's path lightly. He was too much of a busy individual, and he could not bother being delayed too often.
Still, this was the first time he's ever encountered such a situation, his curiosity was piqued as he waited for the coachman's answer.
"They appear too distracted." The coachman's voice came from the front. "I've already instructed a man to check what's going on though."
"Good," his reply was curt. He didn't exactly mind the wait anyway. It would be a small reprieve from all the work and regulations he had weighing down on him in the Royal palace, Arwinter.
"So? What's got the crowd so captivated?" He couldn't help but voice his interest when the scout returned and gave a report to the coachman.
"It seems to be a wandering 'Emperor,' my Lord."
"Oh?" The carefree expression on Jircniv's face vanished in an instant, his mind shifting into contemplation. "Which Kingdom or nation does this esteemed traveller hail from?"
The Baharuth Empire was not expecting foreign delegates or emissaries in the time of Harvest in preparation for Winter. Moreover, with his current reputation as a vile and cruel individual, the surrounding countries and Kingdoms were still hesitant in the stance they had towards him.
"That's the thing, my Lord," the coachmen seemed to momentarily hesitate. "The majority of the people around think that the person is just a Performer. Calling herself an Emperor is too ridiculous after all without a known country to back her, and yet, her cheerful and vibrant personality is apparently quite endearing to the crowd. The people seem to adore her."
"A performer?" Jircniv's interest only heightened further. Most performers he'd ever seen growing up had hardly been able to entertain him. What was to say that the performer crowding the streets wouldn't be any different?
"Indeed, my Lord. A popular one that refers to herself as an Emperor," the coachman verified.
"Hmm," Jircniv hummed again before coming to a decision. He sat up straight. "I want to take a small detour."
His meaning was obvious.
Without any other prompting, the escorts around the carriage made their presence known and pointed towards the crest of the Emperor displayed on the carriage for the civilians. One by one, the residents crowding the street noticed the symbol and deferred themselves to the side in respect for the Emperor of the Baharuth Empire.
It was only then that a direct line of sight was made available.
The carriage rolled forward and came to a stop just shy of the small open circle where the performer was performing.
Jircniv could not see her yet, but from the moment that he had opened the door of his carriage and stepped outside, he was momentarily stunned at the rose staring directly back at him.
The parting of the crowd had been obvious, and the carriage even more so. Just as he was looking at her, she was looking at him.
Eyes the colour of emeralds.
A fiery red dress, inlaid over a pure white gown that hid only what was necessary, if only barely.
And a small smirk that seemed to light up her face.
It was the first encounter, and one that Jircniv would never forget.
The flower that he saw on that day.
He blinked, and the world seemed to spur into motion once more, the performer before him coming to a halt at his presence. He shook his head. He wasn't one to get overly distracted by beauty. Furthermore, it was inexplicable, but he felt a vague sense of comradery when he stared at the woman before him. From one ruler to another, yet this was definitely not the case.
She called herself an Emperor, but where were her escorts? Her loyal Knights?
All that she had was the vibrancy of her attire, and the disposition to earn the hearts of a crowd. Admittedly, even he had lost himself if only temporarily.
"Might you introduce yourself?" He asked.
The woman regarded him slowly, the mirth in her eyes evident as if she was enjoying being the center of attention- The only light or beacon to look at as was proper.
"I am Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, an Emperor!" Her shout resounded far and wide, and didn't fail to enliven those around her.
He could see that this Nero's personality was contagious. The onlookers and even his own subordinates couldn't help but let out small grins of amusement.
Truly a skilled performer even when she wasn't acting.
She looked at him as if waiting for him to reciprocate her grand introduction.
Hah, perhaps it was fine to play along. He brushed back a lock of his hair and assumed his aura as the leader of the Baharuth Empire.
"Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, also an Emperor," he spoke with dignity befitting his status, but the way the crowd began murmuring about the 'Bloody Emperor' dimmed his mood. No matter, the crowd and those below him did not need to understand his sacrifices and losses.
And yet why? Why was she staring at him like that?
The two stared at each other, and for some inexplicable reason he felt like he saw something flash within Nero's eyes akin to recognition. "I see, a fellow Emperor." She pursed her lips before simply shaking her head and lifting her lips back up into a small smile. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance then."
Jircniv found it hard not to stare at her too long.
Still, for Nero's sake, it was better for her if he tried to dissuade her from using false titles.
"Forgive my assumptions then, Emperor Nero, but I had thought that you were just a performer?"
He meant it as a slight jab as a small lesson not to impersonate an individual of such high standing, but Nero appeared largely unaffected. Or maybe she was just pretending?
She blinked at him. "Umu. I am a performer, the best of the best," she puffed out her chest and flourished one arm out in Jircniv's direction. "The Flower of Olympia!" She announced boisterously.
Jircniv had never been amused at any performer before, but Nero was different.
He changed his mind. She truly was entertaining. He suddenly felt all the stress he'd built up gradually leaving him as he stared at her face which was a mix of seriousness and playfulness. It only helped that she was perhaps the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in the Baharuth Empire with an upbeat personality that the heat of the day seemed unable to take away.
He felt his lips curling upward, but there was nothing that he could do to stop it as rose petals suddenly appeared at the end of Nero's declaration. What kind of props was she using? He was already delayed. Might as well go along with it.
He walked to the stepping ladder of his carriage, took a seat, and placed a hand beneath his chin. "Very well, Flower of Olympia, might you grace this Emperor with a performance?"
As soon as the words left his lips, the coachman on the driver's seat whispered to him heatedly. "Are you truly sure that you wish to make the remaining Nobles wait any further?"
Jircniv merely grunted at the coachman's words and shooed the man away. If the Nobles who declared allegiance to him could not even stand to wait for him, then there was no point in bothering with such pointless talks anyway.
He was more focused on Nero in front of him than anything else. From the moment he'd asked for a performance, something about her changed; the air around her becoming somewhat solemn.
She danced around the open square, twisting on the balls of her feet as she began to speak aloud.
"Power was everything." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "With power came ability, and with power came leadership to right the wrongs of the world, or rule over it as its tyrant."
She seemed wistful, almost reminiscent. A figure of glass, brittle, yet pristine.
"A tale of a tragic ruler."
She raised her hand, rose petals dancing to the rhythm of her feet.
"Family, death. Brothers killing brothers, fathers killing sons, mother's weeping in their graves."
Patricide, Fratricide, the struggles of a ruling family.
She danced around faster and faster, never straying, never faltering.
"Plots, conspiracies, betrayals."
The hem of her dress resembled a blooming peony as she swirled, tilted, and gestured with her arms. It was captivating, breathtaking.
"Merits, honour, glory."
She spoke of battle, of the wars one faced and the majesty found in victory.
"Hardened hearts. The people's despised, the people's admired."
She spoke of hardship and the resolve to see through it until one's efforts came to fruition.
"Then, finally,"
Her steps led her to an abrupt stop directly before Jircniv, her expression forlorn, unwilling.
"Abandoned." The words sounded hollow.
She smiled lightly, almost feebly.
"For a love and devotion that none could understand."
She walked away, balancing on her heels to resume her original position.
Meanwhile, Jircniv's mind was whirring rapidly.
The things that Nero had said at the beginning, they resonated so deeply with him that he found it difficult for Nero to understand such complexities in the ruling-class. Family could at times mean absolutely nothing in order to obtain the throne, and often times, he had to harden himself to kill even his own kin.
From the way that Nero spoke and performed, it was almost as if she was talking from experience. "You, who are you really?"
She looked at him, and him at her.
It was almost as if no one else existed.
"Umu," she inclined her head.
"I am Nero Claudius, and like you assumed," she bowed lightly, one hand at her waist while the other was left stretched out behind her.
"Just a simple performer."
She returned his earlier jab.
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