Chapter Thirteen: Departure

In the late winter of the 204th Year of the Imperial Light Calendar, after a long and frigid season, the once-quiet Swordmaster Port gradually began to bustle with life again. Yet the news of the total annihilation of the Eastern Cyprus Blackstone Fortress and the complete fall of the Cyprus Administrative District—the only territory on the far side of the empire’s northwestern strait—had spread throughout the port city.

Every face was shadowed with grief at this bitter news. Not even the bright sun at winter’s end could dispel the sorrow that hung over the city. For alongside the fall of Cyprus, word had come of the death of the city’s lord—a man the people of Swordmaster Port had never met—Duke Mori Stevenson.

At the lord’s manor, an old mage kept watch at the entrance. His brand-new blue mage’s robe bore the insignia of his rank upon his chest, and as it fluttered, the robe exuded an intense magical power. His slender staff, topped with a large green crystal set in its curved tip, shimmered with rippling light as it moved, evidence of powerful magic sealed within.

Behind the old mage stood a burly youth clad in black leather, a steel crossbow slung across his back, and a long knight’s lance in his hands—the tip angled skyward, with a hefty piece of smoked fish tied to it.

Both had been sent by the Black Mage Society, tasked with accompanying Carlos and his companions on their journey south to the Central Province.

Carlos emerged from the manor, followed by the plump Koman at his side.

“I must leave now, my friend,” Carlos said, turning to the stout young man.

“Good luck,” replied Koman, his tone tinged with sadness. “I’ll be staying in Swordmaster Port for a long while. If you need anything done, just tell me…”

“If my brother returns, let him inherit the lordship of Swordmaster Port. Tell him I will become the man our father always wished, and when I return, I’ll fight beside him to reclaim Cyprus.”

“Your brother isn’t known for his patience,” Koman said with a forced smile, “but I’ll pass on your message if I can.”

“And please tell your father, Lord Augusta, that if it does not compromise local defenses, he should unseal the Western Strait. Let those in Cyprus who wish to return to the Empire’s jurisdiction come to Swordmaster Port.”

You’re worried about Malt and the others, Koman thought to himself.

“In truth, you could have claimed the lordship and issued your orders before heading south. No matter what, this land belongs to your Stevenson family.”

The trainee knights had mounted their horses and formed ranks, emerging in order from the manor’s side gate. At their head rode Conrad in heavy armor, reins pulled tight as he followed the carriage driven by Grant. Anderson and the other two hunter brothers, now scouts, led the procession on horseback.

Everyone was ready.

“I wonder if Nearsighted Sidis managed to escape. His dream was to go south and become an apprentice at the Black Mage Academy…” Carlos, preparing to board his carriage, paused with one foot on the step. “I don’t know what message to leave for him. Koman, if he reaches Swordmaster Port and needs help, please look after him.”

Koman nodded and promised to do so.

As Carlos prepared to climb back into the carriage, he turned and gazed north, toward the misty direction of the Western Strait, as if seeing the edge of the world.

The procession soon set out. They needed to reach the entrance to the icy forest south of Swordmaster Port before sunset, where a temporary shelter awaited them—for spending the night unprotected on the open steppe was perilous in the extreme.

Carlos sat inside the carriage, glancing at the other carriage running parallel, driven by the youth in black leather with the long spear. Inside that carriage sat the blue-robed mage.

Neither had spoken a word along the way. Carlos knew they had been sent by Dubuy, his teacher, who would remain in Swordmaster Port for some time and could not guarantee his safety.

The group traveled swiftly across the open country. They passed several merchant caravans, who, upon seeing the party and the noble banner they carried, gave way on the road.

After a morning’s ride across the wilds, they began to pass through a patch of coniferous forest.

The road grew rough and uneven, slowing their progress considerably.

Carlos held a map of their southern route, which noted that the forest was not large, but infested with small burrowing beasts that fed on the pine trees and delighted in making the road pitted and treacherous for travelers.

They pressed on slowly through the woods.

The deeper they went, the denser the trees became. Giant trunks, some so wide that several men could not encircle them, towered skyward at the roadside. The forest grew darker and more oppressive—even at midday, the perpetual damp cold seemed to seep from the ground and linger in the air.

At first, the path was clear enough. The farther they went, the more it faded, until one could easily lose their way without care.

The dwarven instructor of the trainee knights, McLean, sent scouts up into the treetops to peer above the canopy and find the sun’s position, hoping to set a true course.

They hurried onward, but the light gradually dimmed. Just as they were about to light lanterns to guide them through the gloom, a break in the trees ahead revealed a patch of natural sunlight.

They had made it through the coniferous forest.

Beyond lay open country once more.

Stifled by the carriage, Carlos found a spare knight’s horse and joined the main group on horseback. His horsemanship was passable at best; being of modest stature, he had to lie low on the saddle to keep his center of gravity steady, threading the reins between his fingers and wrapping them as a knight should.

With scouts leading the way, he need not worry about the road ahead. Surrounded by the company, he could fully enjoy the thrill of galloping across the wild.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a dense, vast woodland appeared at the end of the plain.

Carlos returned to the carriage, and, following the scouts’ lead, the party entered the realm of the snowy forest through a passage on its left flank.

This forest belonged to wild men and magical beasts. At night, humans could scarcely pass through it safely. Under cover of darkness, fierce creatures lurked, ever ready to ambush intruders.

Fortunately, throughout this perilous forest, humans had built sturdy little fortresses a day’s journey apart.

These were known as forest sanctuaries.