Chapter 10: The Kingdom’s Capital

Emi and Raiga arrived at the outskirts of the capital, where an enormous line of refugees, merchants, adventurers, and ordinary travelers stretched before the gates. Everyone wanted to enter the city for one reason or another. Our protagonists were no exception.

Raiga let out a deep sigh and mentally prepared himself to spend half the day standing around doing nothing. This was precisely why he avoided major cities, preferring to accept missions from guild branches located in remote areas or smaller towns. His status as the Heretic prevented him from entering certain places.

“That line is enormous. What a pain.” The adventurer sighed. To avoid misunderstandings and suspicion, he had chosen to wear a black overcoat and a hat of the same color. He felt naked without his armor or something covering his face. The only weapon he still carried was his longsword, sheathed at his usual leather belt.

“That’s strange. When I left the capital, security wasn’t nearly this strict. Could it have something to do with the reports of cultists in the region?” Emi noticed that most of the people gathered there were refugees—poor peasants seeking better opportunities within the city. She spotted several young men and women around fifteen or sixteen years old, all carrying mediocre equipment and wearing uncertain expressions.

Novice adventurers.

Cannon fodder for the guild and a genuine social problem.

“There are a lot of rookies here,” Raiga commented, his expression dark and melancholy.

He could not help seeing his younger self in them.

Like countless other orphans in that miserable world, Raiga had chosen to become an adventurer so he would not starve to death. He had rejected a life of theft and cruelty after witnessing a gang of robbers being hanged in the central square for attacking merchants along the roads. Their blue faces, covered in flies, would never disappear from his memory. That was when he quickly understood that a life of crime would only lead him to the same horrific end.

“Were you like them once?” Emi asked, still watching the unfortunate souls waiting for their turn to enter.

“Yes. Before I became the Heretic, I was a novice adventurer just like them. I was only fifteen when they threw me out of the orphanage because I was considered too old to stay. They gave me a basic adventurer’s kit, and I registered at the guild in my hometown.”

Raiga closed his eyes for a moment.

He pictured himself eighteen years earlier, before he had been named the Heretic and before he possessed even a fraction of his current power.

Back then, he could barely wield his sword properly. His movements were clumsy, and the steel felt heavy in his hands. He had been forced to train on his own by studying old fencing manuals he purchased secondhand, many of which contained outdated techniques or methods strictly forbidden in courtly swordsmanship.

“Oh, fifteen-year-old Raiga must have been quite a sight. I would have liked to meet you back then.” Emi smiled from ear to ear, finding the idea of seeing a younger and more innocent version of the powerful adventurer incredibly amusing.

“You were ten years old when I became an adventurer. Remember, I’m five years older than you.” The brown-haired man proudly puffed out his chest, although Emi did not find the gesture particularly impressive.

“Oh, that’s right. When I was ten, I was still attending school. My parents paid for me to attend a private academy for the children of wealthy commoners. I studied there from the age of six until I was sixteen, and then I began working at the academy of magic. My life hasn’t been as exciting as yours, but I’ve still had plenty of fun!” Emi smiled once more and playfully stuck out her tongue.

The two of them laughed and continued chatting to pass the time.

The line barely moved, and time passed slowly.

Very, very slowly.

However, a war horn suddenly sounded in the distance. The refugees turned to look behind them, followed by everyone else gathered near the gates. A procession of knights clad in golden armor and mounted upon imposing warhorses began riding directly toward the entrance to the capital. There were more than seventy heavily armed horsemen, and their mere presence caused the onlookers to tremble.

Emi studied them carefully. It was not the first time she had seen knights wearing that particular equipment.

“They’re the Knights of the Prophetic Sword, a knightly order that answers only to the Prophet.” The intellectual’s explanation was brief but precise.

Knightly orders.

Brotherhoods of warriors that operated as private institutions under the protection of the crown. Unlike mercenary companies, belonging to an order carried a certain degree of honor among the nobility, and many younger sons joined them in pursuit of glory and titles. There were also orders composed of warriors from humble origins, although unlike their wealthier counterparts, they were generally regarded as bands of wandering knights rather than champions of the kingdom.

“I’ve never seen them before,” Raiga remarked, showing little interest in the matter.

“I don’t know, Raiga. The Prophet personally founded that order relatively recently. This is the first time in the kingdom’s history that the Prophet has chosen to establish a knightly order. In fact, several new orders have been formed over the past five years.”

“And is that a bad thing?” the adventurer asked.

“The constant formation of knightly orders is usually a sign of instability. It means the kingdom’s nobles no longer trust the royal army, and the relative independence of these orders allows them to form dangerous factions in the event of a schism. They’re a sign of difficult times ahead.” Emi sighed as the golden knights continued filing past them one by one.

No one dared complain.

What could a group of ragged refugees possibly say to some of the finest warriors in the kingdom?

“Open the gates completely, soldier,” one of the knights ordered the sentry.

“My lord, the castellan has instructed me to inspect everyone individually.”

“You don’t seem to understand, soldier. I’m giving you an order. The Prophet has no intention of wasting time on your bureaucracy. Open the gates and let whoever wishes to enter pass through.” Raiga watched the argument from a distance. He was no supporter of favoritism, but this was the perfect opportunity to slip into the city unnoticed by the crowd.

The last thing he wanted was to attract the public’s attention and have another piece of shit thrown at him.

“Emi, hold on to my arm. The moment they open the gates, we’ll move with the crowd. Everyone will be so focused on getting inside that no one will notice me.”

“Oh! Good thinking. Let’s do it.” Emi gripped his arm tightly.

Her soft fingers pressed against the man’s muscular forearm.

Raiga blushed. Never before had a girl as beautiful as Emi—at least in his eyes—held on to him for so long. He glanced at her concentrated expression, framed by the charming spectacles that made her look every bit the intellectual. Emi, on the other hand, was so focused on the approaching stampede that she had no time to become embarrassed.

“Open the gates!” the sentry shouted.

The refugees and merchants prepared themselves, as did all the novice adventurers waiting in line.

The Prophet’s enormous armored carriage passed through first, surrounded by his loyal knights. At the same time, dozens of travelers took advantage of the fully opened entrance and slipped through alongside them, quickly creating a human stampede.

Raiga and Emi moved quickly through the sea of people. Because of the blonde’s short stature, however, her steps gradually slowed. Between the constant shoving and lack of air, the young intellectual’s vision began to blur, and she struggled to breathe.

She panted three times before letting out a quiet groan of exhaustion.

“R-Raiga, I don’t feel well.”

“We’re almost through.” Amid the pushing and pulling, Raiga was forced to lift her into his arms like a princess. Moving quickly, he wove through the crowd in a zigzag pattern until they gradually escaped the stampede. He paid no attention to the crowded streets or the horsemen riding toward the King’s castle. Instead, he headed farther south, away from the commotion and the overwhelming masses of people.

“Ah… Thank you. I almost fainted.” Emi took several deep breaths, slowly inhaling and exhaling until some color returned to her face.

“Do you want me to take you to a clinic? We can stop there before going to the academy.”

“No, please. I’m fine. I don’t want to worry you more than necessary.” Emi smiled, although she was clearly exhausted and dizzy after the stampede. Raiga noticed, but chose to respect her decision rather than disregard her independence. Although she accepted his help and never complained about it, she did not enjoy constantly playing the damsel in distress every hour of the day.

“All right. It’s only three in the afternoon. Let’s visit the academy first and then find an inn. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, let’s go.”

The streets in the southern district were not quite as crowded, although there was still a constant flow of people moving through them. With the crisis behind them, Raiga finally had an opportunity to observe the wooden houses and stone-paved streets.

Small businesses stood everywhere, ranging from street vendors and food stalls to blacksmiths and armor shops. These were not wealthy merchants by any means, but their prices remained affordable for ordinary people, as the southern district was known as the “lower” part of the capital. It was home to commoners, migrant peasants, farmhands, millers, butchers, low-ranking scribes, and even militia guards.

Farther into the southern district stood the local branch of the adventurers’ guild.

It was a stone building with a statue of an armored warrior decorating its front façade. The young people who had been waiting outside the gates gradually began arriving from the direction of the stampede. The building would soon be overflowing with people.

“We should head toward the northern district. This area will become congested within a few minutes,” Raiga suggested.

“L-Let’s go.”

The two companions made their way through the poorer neighborhoods and more dangerous parts of the city.

Raiga tried to keep his gaze lowered, since people somehow always seemed to discover his identity as the Heretic, and that would only make their mission even more difficult. The less they had to deal with the general population, the better.

“Is the capital always this crowded?” Raiga was not fond of large cities. Watching so many people moving together filled him with a mild sense of anxiety, almost making him wish he could return to the smaller towns.

“It’s true that the capital is usually crowded, but I’ve never seen a human stampede before. I think there are more refugees than usual, even though we aren’t at war.”

As they continued through the packed streets, the quality of the houses gradually changed. The wooden huts with thatched roofs disappeared, replaced by an increasing number of stone buildings decorated with beautiful ornaments and even small marble statues.

The northern district of the capital was famous for its artistic beauty and wealthy residents. Raiga saw far more guards patrolling there than in the poorer neighborhoods, and they did not wear simple, weathered tabards or carry basic infantry spears. The protectors of the northern district wore mail shirts, greaves, and conical helmets, while some carried glaives as their primary weapons.

“Where is the academy?” Raiga turned his attention toward a chapterhouse at the end of the street, a structure that resembled a miniature stone castle. Its façade displayed a distinctive coat of arms: a red lion holding a sword between its jaws. “Oh, that symbol looks impressive. Is that another knightly order?”

“If I remember correctly, they’re the Knights of the Lion Sword. They aren’t a particularly famous order, but they do have some interesting warriors.”

“I see. I would have liked to become a knight like them, but some things simply aren’t meant to be.” Raiga lowered his head, knowing perfectly well that his childhood dream of being knighted into an order could never come true.

Being named the Heretic had closed every door to him.

“Oh, Raiga… I’m sorry. Look, we’re almost there.” Emi quickly changed the subject to avoid making her companion feel worse.

Talking about shattered dreams and impossible futures was far too depressing.

“I-It’s enormous,” Raiga said as he stared at the impressive structure.

The academy of magic was an entire castle built within the city. It had its own defensive walls and two enormous towers rising from the rear. Emi sighed nostalgically. Despite having worked there for years, the view from the front still seemed magnificent to her—a true tribute to architecture and magic alike.

“I hope they let us in,” Emi concluded.