Chapter 102: Departing for the Dragon Kingdom
From the Aindra domain, three possible routes led to the Dragon Kingdom.
The fastest was a direct line southeast: first reaching E-Rantel, the King's direct territory, then cutting straight across the Katze Plains to the Dragon Kingdom. But this route had one fatal flaw — the Katze Plains naturally generated large numbers of undead. Crossing the plains directly risked running into groups of wandering undead, which would produce casualties for no meaningful purpose.
The second route ran northeast from E-Rantel, through the Baharuth Empire, and south to the Dragon Kingdom. But the Baharuth Empire and the Re-Estize Kingdom were longstanding enemies, and a Kingdom noble obviously couldn't march troops through Imperial territory. The Bloody Emperor was known for his pragmatism, and given the humanitarian purpose of helping humanity against demi-human invasion, he might agree to grant passage. But the Kingdom's political opposition would certainly use that against the Aindra family, so Lucian had set this option aside.
The third route went south from the Aindra domain, through the Slane Theocracy, and east to the Dragon Kingdom's northwestern territory. This was the route Lucian had always taken.
With Sebas along this year, the Katze Plains route was no longer actually dangerous. Or more precisely: any danger it held would be settled by one of Sebas's punches.
But abruptly changing an established route might itself draw Demiurge's suspicion. Moreover — Lucian needed the appearance of keeping his distance from the Theocracy, but conspicuously avoiding it might be exactly the kind of thing Demiurge's intellect would notice and question. A man who needs to appear neutral doesn't usually avoid his supposed partner quite so carefully.
So Lucian's route was the same as every previous year: through the Theocracy, then east to the Dragon Kingdom.
On the second day after leaving the Aindra domain, the Slane Theocracy's border checkpoint finally appeared on the horizon.
The white stone building glowed with a soft lustre in the afternoon light. The walls were smooth as glass. Above the main gate, the emblems of the Six Great Gods were carved into the stone, catching the sunlight along their gilt edges.
Lucian pulled his reins and raised a hand to stop the column.
At the Theocracy checkpoint, a cavalry unit of roughly one hundred was already drawn up in formation and waiting. Their armor was lighter than the Aindra cavalry's, breastplates marked with the water deity's emblem. The cleric at their head dismounted and greeted Lucian with a standard salute — correct, measured, not overly warm.
"Lord Aindra. Welcome back to the Slane Theocracy."
The cleric's manner was well-judged: complete in courtesy but entirely without excessive familiarity. Behind him, the Theocracy cavalry held their formation with eyes that followed the Kingdom column in calm, neutral assessment.
Lucian dismounted and returned the greeting, drawing from his coat the documents he had prepared well in advance. The cleric accepted them, checked the seals and signatures with care, and gave a slight nod.
"Everything is in order. Per standard procedure, we will provide an escort unit to accompany your party through our territory."
His gaze swept the two hundred cavalrymen behind Lucian; a note of official business entered his voice.
"We ask that you understand — this is our country's regulation."
"Of course." Lucian nodded. "Your country's customs are ones I know well. I won't make you explain them on my account."
The cleric's expression eased slightly. He turned and made a gesture to his cavalry.
The hundred Theocracy riders divided at once into two files — one ahead to lead, one at the rear — positioning the Aindra cavalry between them.
The column moved out.
The Theocracy's roads were considerably better-maintained than the Kingdom's. Hooves on blue-grey stone produced a clean, rhythmic sound, weaving with the occasional birdsong from the fields on either side. Farm workers in the roadside fields looked up briefly at the procession, then bent back to their work.
Germann had been riding with his face set from the moment they crossed the border.
This veteran soldier, the one who had nearly drawn on Sebas over a single wrong word, was not a man known for his patience. His chestnut warhorse gave a disgruntled snort that he absently calmed with a pat on the neck, but he couldn't calm himself: those hands that had held a sword for years were making the reins creak.
"Tch." He sat in his saddle, tilting his head toward the soldier riding next to him. "We risk our lives every year fighting beastmen, and these lot who call themselves 'humanity's defenders' treat us like thieves. Enough to put anyone in a bad mood."
The young soldier beside him tried to help. "Germann-san, this happens every year — you'd think you'd be used to it by now."
"Used to it?" Germann's resentment didn't drop a degree. "When we're bleeding on battlefields, these people just sit in their country and watch."
He added a deliberate tilt of his chin toward the nearest Theocracy cavalryman, the challenge in his eyes entirely undisguised.
The Theocracy rider's face showed nothing at all. His gaze continued straight ahead, as though Germann were a rock beside the road.
Germann had gotten nowhere and was about to say something considerably worse when a calm voice carried from the front.
"Quiet."
Lucian said those two words without inflection.
Germann's mouth shut. The insolent energy that had been sitting on his face vanished completely. He straightened up without deciding to and took a neater grip on the reins.
The young soldier had just begun to let a smile onto his face when Germann's eyes found him.
The smile was taken care of.
Lucian paid no attention to the exchange behind him. He turned to Sebas, riding beside him.
"Even the most powerful human nation keeping its guard up about foreign troops crossing its territory is entirely normal behavior. The fact that they're allowing us through at all is because we're on our way to help humanity fight beastmen."
He kept his tone easy, letting the words settle the mood of anyone within earshot.
"This level of precaution is only right. I ask you to bear with it, Sebas — the passage isn't long. Another three days or so."
"No." Sebas said. "I don't particularly mind."
The old butler's gaze came back from the Theocracy riders and settled somewhere calm. In those pale grey eyes there was something close to approval.
"Soldiers who keep their vigilance without a moment's lapse in order to protect their country — that kind of attitude I find admirable, actually."
Sebas had taken something more from this encounter than what was visible on the surface. The Kingdom and the Theocracy's relationship, while not as razor-edged as the Kingdom and the Empire's, was far from warm. The unbroken vigilance from these rank-and-file Theocracy soldiers confirmed that point in a way no intelligence briefing could. He filed the observation away quietly. Worth noting.
Lucian glanced at Sebas and confirmed there was no strain or politeness in the old butler's expression.
He looked away. The corner of his mouth moved slightly.
This was precisely the effect he had wanted.
If the Theocracy had rolled out any sort of welcome, shown the slightest excess of warmth toward the Aindra cavalry, it would have given Demiurge something to work with. After all — what possible reason would the Theocracy have for dropping its guard around a Kingdom noble's private army?
The formal distance was something Lucian had specifically asked the Theocracy to maintain from the beginning.
From Sebas's reaction, he had judged the level of restraint perfectly.
*
Three days through the Theocracy.
On the afternoon of the third day, when the silhouette of the Dragon Kingdom's border watchtowers appeared along the distant ridge line, the Theocracy cavalry reined in as if on a shared signal.
The lead cleric rode forward and gave Lucian a brief military salute.
"Lord Aindra. The Dragon Kingdom lies ahead. As agreed, we stop here."
Lucian returned the salute. "Thank you all for the escort. Please convey my regards to your country."
The cleric turned his horse. One gesture to the cavalry behind him, and the hundred riders turned as one, hooves finding the road back, raising a thin scuff of dust that faded quickly into the mountain pass.
Lucian watched them until they were gone.
The Theocracy people had departed as cleanly as they had escorted — no excess formality, not a word beyond what was needed. That straightforward professionalism was exactly what he had asked for.
He turned his eyes forward.
"Continue."
The column crossed the border and entered the Dragon Kingdom.
About half an hour further on, scouts came back with a report: Dragon Kingdom riders approaching.
Lucian raised a hand to slow the column and looked down the road. A small party had appeared at the far end and was riding toward them — around a dozen. Their equipment would not be called impressive: leather armor showing clear signs of wear, weapons of different types at their hips, obviously no standard-issue kit.
Against the gleaming, disciplined Theocracy cavalry they had just left behind, this small party looked more like irregulars gathered in a hurry.
But they had dismounted from a long way off and were approaching on foot.
Their leader was a lean, tall man in his thirties. He walked up to Lucian's horse, stopped, and bowed deeply.
"Lord Aindra!" His voice was slightly rough. "On behalf of the people of the Dragon Kingdom — thank you for coming again."
The dozen or so behind him bent at the waist in unison.
Lucian swung down from his horse and steadied the captain's arm.
"No need for ceremony. Please take care of us this year as well."
The captain straightened. His eyes held something unguarded.
"I am Marco, captain of the Dragon Kingdom border garrison's third unit, here on Her Majesty's orders to receive Lord Aindra." He added: "Her Majesty's instruction — if Lord Aindra wishes to proceed to the capital, we will provide escort throughout. Whether or not you go to the capital, you may exercise full command authority over your operations as in previous years."
Lucian gave a nod. That was the arrangement he valued most: the relationship was not a hiring contract, which meant his operational independence was entirely his own. Queen Draudillon had always understood this and had never placed restrictions on it.
"To the capital first," Lucian said, mounting. "It would be proper to present myself to Her Majesty before anything else."
Marco gave a clean "Yes, sir" and was back on his horse and leading the way before the sentence had fully settled.
The column moved on.
The Dragon Kingdom's border was not long. The nearest town from the checkpoint was half a day's travel.
When the shape of Talbach town became clear on the horizon, the sky was approaching dusk.
It was a typical border settlement. Low houses of grey tile and white walls spread along a dirt road, with scattered shops and residences on either side, dried medicinal herbs hanging from window ledges, the air carrying a faint smell of earth.
At the town entrance stood a large tree — a trunk wide enough that two people together couldn't get their arms around it.
Under it sat a few elderly men. When they saw the long cavalry column approaching, their eyes sharpened briefly. Then they recognized the young man at the front, and the lines around their eyes gradually softened.
"It's Lord Aindra," one old man said to the person next to him, nudging with an elbow. "He's come again."
"Sure has. Earlier than last year, too," the other said, squinting, showing a gap in his teeth.
The beastmen hadn't reached this far yet. But the shadow of war had worked into every corner.
The town had almost no young men. The occasional figure appearing in a doorway or between houses was either old, a woman, or a child.
A thin cat pushed out from behind a wall, regarded the unfamiliar army with suspicious eyes, and disappeared quickly back into the shadow of an eave.
Lucian pulled his reins and raised his hand.
"All forces: one day's rest here. You may move freely within the town. Unless facing an emergency, the use of force is strictly prohibited."
His voice reached every part of the column.
"Violations will be handled under military law."
Two hundred cavalrymen raised their right fists to their chests in unison.
"Yes, sir!"
The response rang out across the open ground at the town entrance and faded into the dusk.
Lucian turned and gave his adjutants their garrison and rotation instructions, then looked toward Sebas.
"We've come a long way, Sebas. Rest well tonight."
Sebas gave a slight nod. "You as well."
The cavalry spread out and began setting up a temporary camp in good order at the town's edge. Lucian, with a handful of adjutants, walked toward the building at the town's center — a faded banner hanging above the door, the place where local administrative matters were handled. Marco and the border garrison report were waiting.
Sebas did not go to the camp.
His gaze moved through the small town. The dusk light had turned the grey-tile, white-wall houses a warm orange. Chimneys trailed a few threads of cook-smoke that thinned and dissolved in the evening wind.
His eyes settled on a building with a faded wooden sign, a lopsided drawing of a drinking cup on it. A tavern.
Sebas straightened his jacket and walked toward it.
Ainz-sama's order — he had not forgotten.
Intelligence on the dragon. That was the true purpose of this journey.
The tavern door was low; he had to lean slightly to get through it. The hinges gave a dry creak that startled the proprietor dozing at the bar.
"Ah, a customer—"
The proprietor was a bald man in his early sixties, grey-white beard, stomach impressively round.
He rubbed his drowsy eyes, saw Sebas's well-tailored black tailcoat, blinked once, and immediately arranged his face into a welcoming smile.