Chapter 21: Westward

A few days after they had left the forest’s confines, the road going westward toward the capital was alive with movement. The twins pressed their faces against the carriage window, their eyes wide at the sight of more people gathered together than they had ever seen in one place.

Riders on horseback clattered past, cloaks snapping behind them. Merchants groaned behind ox-pulled carts stacked with crates and barrels, while farmers trudged alongside donkeys sagging under the weight of bulging grain sacks. Pilgrims in plain robes walked barefoot, their feet coated in dust, murmuring prayers for the new monarch beneath their breath as they clutched wooden staves.

“It seems the whole kingdom knows of the news,” Solan remarked, his eyes flicking over the road ahead.

“Look at that man’s cart,” Leo muttered, pointing toward a rickety wagon piled high with clay pots filled with spices. “It looks like it could topple over at any moment.”

“It will if you keep staring instead of sitting properly,” Lucina rebuked, though her lips curved slightly at her son’s restless wonder.

Lea’s gaze lingered not on the carts or the pilgrims, but on the soldiers walking in pairs along the road. Their uniforms were red and white, tunics pressed and boots polished, each with a sword at his flank and a spear in hand. She had grown used to the sight of Alten and the guards patrolling the estate, but this was different. There were so many. And all of them marched grimly, as though expecting trouble at every bend.

By dusk, the carriage rattled into a small town where crooked streets leaned against one another and flickering lanterns lit the corners. Smoke curled above tiled roofs, carrying the scents of roasted meat and cheap ale.

The inn was overflowing with travelers. The common hall reeked of sweat, woodsmoke, and spilled beer. Laughter clashed with raised voices as dice clattered across tables. The Kazantria family managed to squeeze into a corner table while Solan strode to the counter to speak with the innkeeper.

The twins tried to keep their attention on the bread and stew brought to them, but their ears kept wandering to the conversations around them.

“I heard the King had his throat slit in his own courtyard!”

“I don’t know about that, but the Queen was poisoned, that much is certain!”

“Poisoned? Don’t be daft. Whoever did it must've gone right past the guard and had it over with. Ronayah isn’t safe anymore, I swear it.”

Lea leaned closer across the table, her voice hushed. “Mother… is that true?”

Lucina placed her hand gently but firmly on her daughter’s shoulder. “Not all words are meant for your ears, my dear. Eat. We’ll be going up to the room soon.”

Her hand lingered longer than usual. Lea noticed the slight tremor in her fingers, though Lucina’s expression stayed calm.

The days stretched onward. Road after road. Town after town. The scenery shifted as though the land itself was unfolding to reveal its many faces: from the shadowed forest of Endlost to open green hills striped with rows of wheat, then to dry flatland where the wind stung their cheeks, and finally to mountains carved in jagged lines against the horizon.

Yet no matter where they stopped, one thing remained constant—the unease in the voices of the people.

At a bustling tradepost, the tavernkeeper leaned close after pouring Solan a cup of ale. His voice rasped like gravel. “Trust me, m’lord. This thing with the King an’ Queen weren’t done by any cutthroat thieves. Too clean. Too quick. Either the Kaisha Empire sent their top lads, or demons flew in and took ’em out in a blink.”

Solan’s jaw tightened, though his expression revealed nothing. He only gave a curt nod, keeping his silence.

The next day, Lucina spoke in hushed tones while sitting beside Solan in the driver’s box, her words nearly lost in the rattle of the wheels. “If infiltration truly happened, then it could only have been through someone close to the throne. Someone trusted by the crown.”

Solan didn’t reply. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon. He would not draw conclusions until he had seen the palace himself.

But the twins, sitting in the carriage, had heard enough to feel the weight pressing on their shoulders.

Lea hugged her knees to her chest, whispering, “What if demons really are behind this?”

Leo clenched his fists. For a brief second, sparks of flame shimmered faintly between his fingers before he caught himself, hiding it quickly. “If someone threatens us… then we’ll fight. Just like Father would.”

Lea turned her face toward the window, uncertain whether to feel reassured or more afraid.

The final stretch of road grew more crowded. Caravans clogged the way for miles, nobles and wealthy merchants rolled past in gilded carriages with banners snapping above them, while peasants trudged along with weary steps, heads bowed beneath the sun. The air was thick with scents of smoke, horse sweat, and roasted meat from roadside stalls eager to profit from the surge of travelers.

By the time their carriage crested a broad hill, the world seemed to open. Below lay a wide plain, and in its center stood Typhos, the beating heart of Ronayah.

The city seemed to stretch forever. Towers of pale stone rose like spears into the sky, their tips crowned with streaming banners of crimson and gold. The river glinted a bright blue as it curved at the side of the city walls, it slided through an enormous metal grate built into the walls. Guards in bright armor marched atop the battlements, their outlines stark against the glow of the descending sun.

Lea’s breath caught. “It’s… enormous. Much bigger than Marchten was.”

Leo leaned half out the window, eyes wide with awe. “It looks like this place has no end!”

But Solan’s expression stayed grim, his gloved hands tightening on the reins. He could already sense it, the currents swirling beneath the grandeur.

The walls loomed closer, scarred with faint lines where sieges long past had battered against them. The closer they drew, the louder the noise became—wagons groaning, merchants shouting, guards barking orders and people in the crowds chattering.

At the gate, a soldier approached, glancing inside the carriage before addressing Solan. “Papers, please.”

Solan handed over the sealed parchment of summons. The guard scanned it, eyes widening slightly as he recognized the wax seal.

“Oh! Forgive me, Lord Kazantria. Had you flown your house’s banner, I would’ve known at once.” He bowed deeply, stepping aside. “I’ll send one of my men to guide you to the castle grounds.”

The carriage rolled forward at last, banners of scarlet and gold snapping overhead.

From the windows, the twins took in their first true glimpse of life inside Typhos. Narrow alleys webbed between the main avenues, and the press of people was so thick it felt like the city itself was alive with a heartbeat of its own. Blacksmiths hammered at glowing steel outside their shops, merchants shouted from behind stalls, and cloaked figures slipped unnoticed through the crowd.

Compared to Attalon or Marchten, where it felt more communal and close-knit, this place felt overwhelming. Weapons gleamed openly on belts and backs. Daggers, axes, curved blades from distant lands. Not just guards or soldiers, but even merchants and rough-eyed travelers bore steel as casually as one might carry a satchel.

Lea pressed closer to her brother, whispering, “It looks dangerous…” It's not like anywhere I've ever been, it reminds me of Tokyo in the way that there's so many people and so much going on but this place is like we went back in time a few hundred years with how everything is except there's magic here. 

Leo’s voice was hushed but steady. “It’s a really big city where everyone gathers. Father said places like this… you never know who you’ll meet.”

And indeed, Typhos was not just grand. It was alive with opportunity, shadow, and risk—the kind of place where fortunes were made, alliances broken, and where blood could be spilled in the blink of an eye.

The twins stared out in silence as the carriage rumbled onward, the ominous presence of what awaited them lingering above.