Unlike Porcero’s outer city with its chaotic layout off the wide main roads, the inner city was neatly divided into blocks through and through. The buildings themselves were uniform, if somewhat lacking in care. Throughout the years, the neat white plaster of the walls had turned yellow and developed spots and holes, revealing the raw stone underneath. Like all the housing built along the inner wall there was only a single floor. After all, the wall itself served as one of the four sides of the building. Wares produced on the outside would be transported directly through the common border between the two, since the commoners of the outside had no right to enter the inner city, yet the nobles inside still demanded the luxuries produced by ordinary craftsmen.
Corco entered the shop through the open wood-and-paper frame door, accompanied by the soft sound of a chime swinging in the wind. Since the building was low in height, it had to be built wide to accommodate all the desires of the rich. Thus, its inside was as spacious as Corco had expected. All throughout the establishment, the walls were lined with carpets made of expensive cloth, to show off the shop’s assortment, while several enormous bronze mirrors broke the room up into sections. Installed along the back wall one could find large wooden rolls loaded with merchandise. Finally, the nominal shop keeper, a chubby middle-aged man in a red tunic, could be found on a chair towards the side. Too busy with his afternoon nap, he failed to notice his new guests.
"Good morning, friend!" Corco gave an energetic greeting to help the man out in his work.
"Huh, wha..?"
While the flustered clerk gathered himself and then waddled over, Corco patiently waited at the entrance.
"Valued guest, I humbly implore you to ignore the tardiness. This servant will provide to the best of his abilities." His senses finally with him, the clerk started to bow and apologize profusely.
"Can you stop the grovelling? You are not my servant so why would I care what you do? If you have to, make up for your mistake by showing me around properly. I need some quality cloth." Corco really wasn’t comfortable with the deferential attitude those of lower status would show in this country, so his answer turned out much more brusque than he had hoped. Rather than attempt to fix his country’s entire culture, he decided to focus on the more immediate tasks instead: Getting some new clothes.
"Of course, valued guest. This way." On hurried steps the clerk led Corco and his men towards the far end of the establishment, back to the wooden scrolls which seemed to contain the shop’s best pieces of work.
"Please take a look, valued guest. Pure Chutwa silk. Gold and white are very popular colors at the moment, especially with valued guests from afar like yourself. I am sure it will be to valued guest’s great satisfaction." He pointed towards a particular scroll of amber cloth on which complex, geometrical patterns in white were outlined by thin, black thread.
"What did you mean by that? ’Popular with guests from afar’? Is Porcero receiving foreign trade? I’m not a ’valued guest from afar’, by the way, I’m a Yaku, just like you."
Once again Corco had stumbled onto a strange difference from before. When he had left seven years ago, his father had been very keen to limit trade with the foreigners from Arcavia to a necessary minimum, yet no one here seemed surprised at Corco’s Arcavian clothing.
"...foreign dignitaries have been coming and going through Porcero for quite some time. They are valued customers. Since young master was dressed in their manner, this servant made undue assumptions. Please excuse this servant’s rudeness, young master."
"It’s fine, please just stop apologizing." Even though he wasn’t a ’young master’ either, Corco would rather not correct the man any more. Instead, he pointed at the gaudy amber silk and asked: "Is that all you have? Maybe something less tacky?"
"Is young master not satisfied with our gold cloth? These days, it is even worn amongst the nobility in the capital."
"...really, white and gold? What happened to our traditional colors?" As soon as he said the words and saw the clerk’s uncomfortable look, he understood that he had asked the wrong guy. Thus, he focused on his purchase once again. "You don’t have anything traditional? How about some blue robes? Show me a wave pattern maybe. It’s for a funeral after all."
"Of course, young master. Right over here young master! A rolling wave pattern in dark blue and emerald colors. Would this be to young masters liking?"
As if to answer the clerk’s question, Corco rolled out some of the cloth and held it to his chest as he observed himself in a nearby mirror. For the future ruler of Medala, he looked remarkably unimpressive. His height was short for a member of the nobility, many of whom were abnormally tall, and his physique and face seemed quite stocky. If nothing else, the extra fat around his cheeks made him seem friendly and approachable; at least that was what he wanted to believe. His shoulder-length brown hair distinguished him from many of the black-haired lords on the northern peninsula of Yakuallpa, as did his dark skin, which against common practice he had not powdered to appear more white. Never again would he hide his true nature to fit in anywhere, not now that he had the power to ignore the archaic customs of others.
"This seems nice," Corco said in reaction to the cloth. "Give me enough length for a tunic. Oh, do you also do tailoring here? I’ve just come back and don’t exactly have a tailor with me."
"Not here, but I can help young master contact one of the workers outside."
"Good, then get me that blue-gray cloth over there and make a robe to go over the tunic. And make it nice and thick. It’s still winter after all."
"Of course, young master. This servant will have to take measure for the initial cut of the robe. Thus young master will have to excuse this servant’s forward request, but young master will have to remove the vest. Tomorrow, young master may go visit the tailor in person, for the final fitting."
"Sure, that’s fine. Make it a traditional cut please... and give me a good few pockets. Oh, I’ll need a headband as well. Something simple."
Nonchalantly Corco gave his list of demands while he took off his vest for measurements. Underneath, he revealed a thin silk undershirt and the heavy chain mail armor he always carried on his back, the true cause of his stocky physique. Even though his torso was still covered, his arms, toned from years of training, were revealed, together with the tattoos of abstract, blocky patterns which covered both arms over their entire length.
"Th-that’s..." As realization turned to shock and then to horror, he clerk stared at the ink, unblinking. "It might be better if young master leaves now."
"Since when are Sacha markings a problem?" Corco answered in confusion, his look moving down to the traditional patterns of southern Medala on his arm.
"...please do not make life impossible for this servant, young master." The clerk reverted back to his natural state and resumed his grovelling. While he cowered into a pose of submission under a barrage of apologies, Fadelio finally lost the temper he had been holding onto for a while already.
"Enough! Not only do you insult my lord by calling him a mere ’young master’, now a lowly servant even denies service? What good are you exactly?" In large, imposing steps, the intimidating warrior closed in, but the servant still wouldn’t budge.
"No, please! I could become an outcast!"
"Good, then right now you have the choice between possible exile eventually and certain death right now. Choose!" Anger flared, Fadelio drew the heavy axe at his hip.
"No, Lord, forgive me!"
"On your feet!"
"Y-yes. Of course."
"Take the measurement!"
"U-understood."
His life threatened, the clerk followed the warrior’s commands. Finally his shaky hands went to work on Corco’s measurement. With more force than necessary, Fadelio put his axe back into its designated sling on his waist. "Honestly, why does this have to be so hard? Every step in this damn town is one giant struggle."
"U-Uhm..."While the warrior was still grumbling about the last delay, the clerk already had the next one in store. Wide-eyed, the warrior stared back.
"Is there something else?" Corco chimed in before his attendant could kill the clerk out of sheer annoyance.
"Lord will have to remove the armor."
"It’s fine like this. I’ll wear it under the tunic anyways."
"Good, then th-thats..."
As the servant moved towards Corco, Fadelio closed in as well to prevent any incidents. Corco knew that the warrior wouldn’t allow anything to go wrong, not now that they had finally made it back home.
"...and finally one elbow and ... two hands at the shoulder. That should be enough for an initial tailoring. I hope Lord is satisfied." freewebnovel .com
"Thanks." An immovable smile on his face, Corco looked at the servant for a good few seconds, before, without warning, the prince slapped his opposite’s cheeks as hard as he could. With the cultivator’s full weight behind the hit, the clerk was sent reeling backwards and down onto his knees.
"Why, Lord, I..." Confused and stammering, he tried to grasp the situation.
Corco grinned in response.
"Now you can say to your lord that you were forced to serve me. I doubt anyone will make you responsible for this after you’ve had your life threatened and got beat up. That’s enough excuse to get you off the hook."
"...Thank you, Lord." Although his voice was still strained, and the servant had his head lowered once again, Corco still decided that he could hear the true, honest gratitude hidden in the answer. While the prince was still lost in self-satisfaction over his quick-thinking solution, a loud voice rang from outside the door to ruin his fun.
"Impostor who besmirched the glorious name of Pluritac! Leave the building and face your justice!"
"...And right on cue. Let’s get some proper answers. Fadelio, we’re going," Corco said as he moved towards the door.
"King of peace, was it?"
"Shush."
And so the warrior and the three remaining mercenaries followed their master’s steps, towards the army waiting for them outside.
Back out in the sunlight, Corco was stunned. He had predicted opposition, but owing to his status, and the sudden nature of his arrival, he had not expected the outright hostility on show at that moment.
To welcome the arrival of their nominal new emperor, the army of Ceros had prepared itself in impressive fashion. In front of the shop’s entrance, a company of soldiers formed a wall eight layers deep. The soldiers were easy to identify as regular troops, since they were all equipped with leather or wooden armor of various styles and conditions over short, predominantly red patterned tunics. In addition, they were armed with long spears or axes and had small shields fastened to their arms. Ideal equipment to suppress and overwhelm smaller elite forces. Some of them, possibly the favorites of the lord of Porcero, even wore simple, open faced helmets on their heads.
Stationed on the wall and roof behind them Corco found another troop, armed with bows and dressed much more frugally, with only a simple tunic and girdle to protect them from the cold. Most striking within the formation however was the smug looking man to the left of the main square. His polished iron armor and helmet glittered in the sun as much as his silk tunic did underneath the metal. Pride infused in his every move, he held up his shiny sword weighed down by precious metals and even more precious stones. For but a moment the shiny warrior paused, before he began his carefully prepared speech.
"On command of the great Quintus Apiliotus Saliena, lord of Porcero! I, Latrus di Saliena, equipped with courage, wit and righteousness, have deemed this criminal to have committed the following heinous acts:
"The first offense, impersonating a member of the royal family!
"The second offense, a heinous, deadly attack on the noble guards of Porcero!"
Bit by bit, Corco tightened his fists, while a shadow sank over his face. What other tricks would he have to put up with during his return? Was his family really dead set on seeing him in the grave? Meanwhile, the shiny guard blabbered on, oblivious to the crown prince’s wrath.
"Reliant on the word of the honest guards of Porcero and on my own wisdom, I have thus concluded the guilt of the criminal, as is within my power! As such, the unknown impostor and his gang will..."
"Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?"
Interrupted by the low and angry growl of the accused, the warrior halted in his steps, as a frown took form on his face.
"Silence, impostor! The lord’s judgment shall not be interrupted!" the warrior bellowed in response.
Corco ignored the warning, took a step forward and raised his voice even further, his gaze a raging inferno.
"Because if you finish that sentence, I can guarantee your death!"
"Empty threats, impostor. The mighty force of Porcero is behind me! You have no chance."
What answered the warrior’s insistence was a sneer from the prince, a grim look of derision.
"Right. But I don’t have my people only here. Since you know I’m here, you should also know about the three ships in your harbor. Now let’s just say that on one of those, there is another member of my family, someone trustworthy who could identify me before the elders of the ancestral hall back in Arguna. And let’s say that this someone also holds my family seal, to get easy access into the ancestral hall. And let’s assume that this person in the harbor would hear about my untimely demise and would thus leave the port to sail south. Still following along so far? Good. Now, let’s assume that the person, let’s just pick a random name and call him Atau Sonco Saqartu for now, would talk about what happened here today, before the elders of the Ancestral Hall in Arguna."
Throughout Corco’s speech, the shiny sword of the shiny warrior dipped lower and lower, as the color drained from the man’s face. By the end, his look of arrogance had turned to horror. In a complete reversal, Corco’s face of anger had smoothed out into complacency. This would be easier than he had thought.
"Now at that point in the story, everyone would know that you, a lowly warrior, killed the crown prince of Medala in the street. Like a dog. While you denied him his birthright. You wanna say you didn’t? That option is long gone. In your smugness, you’ve screamed so loudly that everyone inside these walls must have heard you. By tonight, all the eastern estates will know of this. I mean, just look over there."
With a point of his finger, Corco made the warrior aware of the second source of his confidence, besides his own status as crown prince. On a corner further into the inner city stood Primus Vitus Petrocilius, the young master who had invited Corco to his family residence earlier. Unlike before, his warrior clothes had been exchanged with an expensive robe fit for the highest nobility. Without any words and without any further actions, the young noble simply stood there and acted as witness. Now that his point had been made, Corco continued, over the stunned silence of the crowd.
"Not only you will die, your entire family will be wiped out. Gone, down to the last child. Maybe, if you’re lucky, they’ll keep some of the prettier girls around as concubines, but without a family as backing they’ll basically be slaves either way. In fact, any man in this formation could face the same, everyone with a weapon aimed at the crown prince. As for your lord? Do you really think he’ll get himself into trouble just to save you? Why do you think he sent you, a lowly warrior, instead of coming here himself? You know what he’ll say once Arguna complains about my assassination? ’I knew of nothing! It was my overzealous servant who committed this terrible crime. I will punish him myself!’"
As the full gravity of his position began to hit home, the warrior turned as white as the newest fashion trend in the capital.
"Your lord used you. Sacrificed you and everyone here, just so he could kill me off with clean hands. You want to carry that burden for him, really? That’s why I will advise you again. Be careful with your next words. They could be your last."
Once the paleness had been fully developed, the warrior started to frown instead. Deep in thought he weighed his next step. The air became heavy and breathing difficult, as if a blanket of thick smog had fallen over the shop’s front. Someone behind Corco swallowed audibly while everyone awaited the warriors judgment, one which could pronounce a death sentence for every man in the street.
"...Thus, the criminals will be brought to Ceros Castle to be tried for their crimes. Take them away!"
And so, with the smug feeling of having aced the test everyone else had failed, the rightful new emperor of Medala was taken into custody for impersonating himself.
__________________________
Bored out of his mind, Atau sat in his captain’s quarters and looked towards the heavy armor in the corner of his cabin. He really didn’t understand how Fadelio could stand the thing. Crammed and uncomfortable were the most flattering words he could find to describe it. Maybe he had just spent too much time at sea, but all he could ever think of when he wore Arcavian knight armor was: ’What if I fall into the water now?’ He would rather not deal with the claustrophobic feeling again. Thus, his view left the cause of his dismay and went out of his cabin’s open window instead.
His eyes swept over the lagoon which formed the natural harbor Porcero was built on, as well as towards the hills that blocked the sight to the north. With fondness he thought back to the chaotic seven years of travel since he had left his homeland from this very place; to the uncertainty, the hardship, the failure, the struggle, the eventual success... and the dreams of course. At some point five years ago, his cousin had dreamed maybe greater than any man had ever dared to dream... and he had infected his inner circle with the same illness, Atau chief among them.
"Time to make the dream reality. It starts here," the captain muttered to himself.
Suddenly, through the window Atau spotted a familiar silhouette sprinting towards the pier. Alarmed, he stormed out of his cabin while he bellowed his orders with practiced ease.
"All men on their feet! Lower the plank! There’s news from cousin!"
After an unsteady rush up to the deck, the mercenary Corco had sent started to explain his troubles, all the while trying to catch his breath. It didn’t go very well.
"Cap...tain Atau, there’s... there’s... trouble, Sir."
Atau furrowed his brows at the man’s lack of discipline. "Slow down. Breathe. Then speak clearly. What is wrong with you, man?"
After a few deep breaths, the mercenary transmitted his employer’s message with a worried face, but Atau just grinned in response.
"Who says that’s trouble? We may well get the perfect chance to sack this damn town! At least we’ll fleece the bastards." With verve, the captain turned around towards his crew. "Blow for reinforcements men, there’s work to be done!"
Under great shouts of hurrah from the crew, one of the sailors his way to a horn at the ship’s bough and released a deep sound from within the instrument. A short while later, under the widening grin of the captain, the rest of their fleet appeared from behind the northern hills. Whatever their enemies thought about their strength, they would be sorely mistaken.
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