Chapter 49

Chapter 49
## Chapter 49: Golden Highway (1)

Following a full four-day period of recuperation, the high official had returned to health. Enrico pulled himself up to the mattress’s edge and gave a slow, deep stretch.

“Ugh… Phew. This marks the first occasion I’ve truly relaxed since taking my post as a legate. It feels as though I’ve clawed my way back from the brink of the afterlife.”

“Are you certain your strength has returned, Legate? Should you collapse once more, I intend to leave you behind on the next leg of the trip.”

“Ah, my sincere apologies to everyone. To compensate for the setback, I shall increase your wages, so please harbor no resentment.”

“……”

Kadim gave a curt nod. His words hadn’t been a plea for gold, yet he saw no benefit in declining a bonus that was being freely offered.

The group led by the legate resolved to depart Mesen immediately.

The band of eight travelers mounted fresh steeds provided by the lead administrator and rode northward, exiting the settlement.

The early-rising townspeople observed the riders with drowsy eyes. However, they quickly returned to their daily labors—tending to their doorsteps, hauling livestock feed, and similar chores. The minor turbulence following the departure of the local militia had faded, and life was returning to its usual rhythm. In a place where daylight was a precious commodity, there was little leisure for staring at travelers.

The territory north of Mesen stretched out in a vast, open expanse similar to what they had traversed before—a limitless grassland. The morning sun rolled out like a luminous rug before them, while the winds that had touched the high clouds swept down to the grass, creating ripples of emerald and gold. There was no cause for wandering or winding paths; two days of steady riding on this tranquil, scenic route would lead them directly to their goal: the Golden Highway.

This portion of the trek remained entirely peaceful.

The legate spurred his horse with vigor, as if to prove his vitality. The infantrymen followed, enjoying the pleasant climate and the vistas. The merchant chatted openly, forgetting to cast his usual suspicious glances at the barbarian, while the metalworker was filled with the joy of soon seeing his kin. Guided by the barbarian’s protection—who noticed even the slightest movement of blades of grass leagues away—they galloped toward the Golden Highway at a fast clip.

* Neighhh!
* Prrrf, prrrrf…

Clop, clop, clop…

The hooves of the horses carved long ruts into the sod, and as the crimson sun dipped low in the sky, they located a fine spot to rest. A small trench ran nearby, providing ample timber and dry brush for a fire—an ideal location for the night.

“We ought to settle here for the evening, Legate.”

“I concur. Feldric! This is our stop—begin unloading the supplies!”

The soldiers went to work securing the steeds, removing the packs, and igniting a blaze to establish the campsite.

As night fell, the party produced rye cakes and preserved poultry from Mesen to satisfy their hunger. The men used their metal headgear as makeshift cauldrons to cook a pottage, while Enrico and Kadim paired their food with wine. Duncan, moved by curiosity, approached Gullak as he gulped down a meal, only to bolt away when he caught the scent of the familiar, pungent fish odor.

Once the meal ended, one man took the first watch while the others relaxed.

When Gullak mentioned he could fix equipment, two soldiers rushed to him with short swords, metal gloves, and a snapped strap. The final soldier engaged in a mock duel with Duncan using wooden branches—and surprisingly, Duncan was defeated after a tense struggle.

“Agh! No, if I hadn’t been holding back, I would have bested you, soldier! Give me another chance, just one more!”

“Kahahaha! Stop your joking! My sharp edge has already tasted Duncan’s throat—do you wish to continue the fight as a ghost?”

The soldier brandished his stick toward the stars. Even though he had only outmatched a simple trader, he rejoiced as if he had brought down a champion of legend in a spray of blood. The other men and Gullak looked up from their chores to join in the boisterous laughter.

Meanwhile, Kadim sat by the flames, deep in contemplation.

He had remained stoic all day, but his thoughts were a mess of complexities.

The chaos and return of the fiends, the high-ranking Arch Paladin of the faith, the Decagram, the Magic Tower and those sorcerers tapping into abyssal power, the maidens of the forgotten shrines and the wilderness, Beska, the figure known as Agon’s Furious Horn, Cyril, his companions from his first life, and those hidden entities watching his every move and providing calculated gifts…

“……”

The quest had started as a search for clarity, yet it only produced more enigmas. Even if he made it to the Magic Tower and examined Melissa’s journals—would that truly answer everything? Kadim felt certain it would fall short.

As he shut his eyes, struggling to organize his mind, a figure moved toward the warmth of the fire. The newcomer looked around cautiously, noticed Kadim’s shimmering crimson marking—bright as the coals—and spoke with a hint of confusion.

“Hm? Was that brand always there? I don’t recall noticing it before…”

“……”

“Hrm, regardless, it is quite striking. I have heard that those of Atala imbue their markings with deep significance. Is it true they provide bravery and strength against foes? Haha, if that were the case, I might seek one out myself…”

“There is no need to hunt for idle chatter to get on my good side, Legate. If you have a point to make, stop the stalling and get to it.”

“……Ahem.”

Recognized for his maneuvering, Enrico let out a dry cough. He poked at the embers with a twig for a moment before whispering his true intent.

“Before I inquire, let me provide some background—so you don’t erupt as you did previously. And naturally, this conversation is strictly between us.”

Kadim’s eyes shifted toward him. Enrico leaned closer and softened his tone.

“You are likely aware of this. Most within the Alliance view ‘Agon’s Furious Horn’ merely as the great victor of the pits, but that is only a partial truth. He is also the commander of a military unit comprised of Atalan combatants who possess ‘extraordinary abilities.'”

“……”

“I am not certain of the nature of that ‘extraordinary ability.’ But rumors suggest that Galentana—which oversees Agon—and the ruling body have already moved them under the council’s direct authority to provide a check against the Magic Tower and the priesthood. Each combatant is said to be as capable as a hundred regular men.”

“……”

“That is why I questioned you before about whether you were one of them or linked to Agon’s Furious Horn. I have never encountered an Atalan with such unnatural power that defies logic.”

Kadim remained quiet. It was unexpected information, but he felt no inner turmoil. To pretend to be a legendary hero, one required a following and strange tricks, after all.

“……Now I will ask. Why did you become so enraged at the mention of ‘Agon’s Furious Horn’? Is there a specific cause?”

Insects flitted through the rising plumes of smoke, holding a grim celebration. Anxiety was written on the legate’s face, as if he were traversing thin ice. Kadim looked away at the chaotic dance of embers, smoke, and the night sky.

A spark winked out like a dying bug, and he finally spoke.

“He took what belongs to me.”

“……What?”

“The name ‘Great Warrior of Atala.’ It does not belong to that circus performer—it is my birthright. He may have worn the title while its master was absent, but now that the master has returned, it is time to reclaim it.”

Enrico sat in stunned silence.

The legate, who had analyzed many souls, could sense this much: the barbarian was telling the truth. And the depth in those eyes, scanning the heavens amidst the firelight—it held a weight far greater than any he had ever encountered.

A premonition struck him: he might be in the presence of someone truly monumental. A sense of wonder and respect began to grow within him.

“Who… who are you truly? Who are you to lay claim to the title of the War God’s chosen champion?”

The solution was hidden in the question itself. Instead of clarifying, Kadim shifted the conversation.

Ting!

“Do you recognize the symbol on this silver piece, Legate?”

“……Hm? Where did you acquire this coin?”

“From a scholar of the past. If you recognize it, I would appreciate the knowledge.”

“I have no idea, I’m afraid. It isn’t a mark of the council or any known noble house… It’s completely foreign to me. If it came from a scholar, perhaps it originates from a vanished ancient realm.”

“……”

Kadim tucked the silver away and requested that the legate use his resources to identify the mark in place of the promised extra gold. If the official’s intelligence network truly reached across the Alliance, a lead would surface. Enrico consented without hesitation.

“It is time to relieve the men. I will take the watch. We will be riding all through tomorrow, so get your rest, Legate.”

Kadim stood and disappeared into the shadows. He provided no more clues about his past. Enrico watched him leave, then slowly turned back to the fire.

The flickering flames showed no intent of fading. They reached into the blackness as if they meant to burn forever. The heat from the pit was countered by the cool night breeze on his neck. The voices of the men, the merchant’s tall tales, the sound of striking metal, the snapping wood, and the chirping of insects—all blended into a noisy harmony.

The night at the wakeful camp grew deeper by the minute.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

The Free City Alliance is inferior to the Lucaonia Empire in almost every category.

Its borders are smaller, its population thinner. The coffers of its wealthiest merchants are shallow compared to the Emperor or the high lords. The sorcerers of the Magic Tower and the brave legates are viewed as minor threats when measured against the priests and templars of the Elga Church.

However, there is one area where the Empire cannot compete.

The infrastructure of travel.

Ever since the various powers coalesced under the banner of the Alliance, the people took it as their sacred duty to master trade and movement—building a foundation to one day rival the Empire. For many generations, the common people labored and gave their lives. Eventually, a network of roads connecting the great centers of power spanned the territory.

The crown jewel of these paths: the merchant’s lifeline, the Golden Highway.

Delutana, Galentana, and Vestana—the three great pillars of the Alliance—are bound together by this central artery. If one includes the smaller offshoots, it touches nearly every significant settlement. It is often said that the combined traffic of all other roads would not equal the flow on this single path.

Living up to its reputation, a massive line of people coiled before the stone entrance.

Families were camped out on wooden carts, old men carried heavy sacks on their backs, drivers worked on broken wheels while frustrated women peered from the windows of coaches, hired blades cut through the line despite the shouts of travelers, street kids watched for loose purses, and people lay resting on blankets spread on the dirt…

“……How much longer must we wait…”

“Sigh, what could be the cause of this…”

“……Damn, it’s just one thing after another…”

“No, I held this spot first…”

A cacophony of voices filled the air. There was dust, the scent of hard work, the smell of beasts, and the stench of a long-term encampment. Travelers, weighed down by the burden of their treks, formed a seemingly endless, multi-layered queue.

Kadim scowled. He had been warned the line was substantial, but this was beyond his expectations. It might take an entire day just to pass through.

He wasn’t the only one taken aback.

“……Good gods, what is this chaos?”

“Have mercy, Remillion… What is this sea of people…”

The rest of the group stared at the congestion in disbelief.

“Is it not usually this congested?”

“No. Something is definitely wrong. Feldric, go and ask those waiting what has caused the delay.”

“Right away, sir!”

The soldier Feldric rode his horse toward the throng, spoke with several people, and returned to the group.

“The entrance is barred. The militia are controlling all movement. People have been stuck here for three days.”

“……What? Why is it closed?”

“……The travelers are in the dark. The sentries won’t give a reason…”

Enrico’s brow slowly knitted together. Waiting in total ignorance without a timeline for the reopening was a waste of effort.

“Move to the front of the gate. I will speak to the sentries myself.”

“……”

The legate’s company rode past the long line.

Clop, clop, clop—

Complaints and angry shouts were hurled their way occasionally, but no one moved to stop them. One glance at the massive, menacing barbarian bringing up the rear was enough to quiet most tongues. Kadim’s mere presence acted as a shield against petty disputes, allowing them to proceed.

However, the sentries at the gate were not so easily moved.

“Go back. The Golden Highway is restricted. Seek another path or take your place in line until the orders change.”

“……The reason?”

“Classified. I have no obligation to explain it to someone like you. Do not cause trouble—move along, barbarian.”

The guard stood his ground before the giant Atalan, showing no signs of intimidation. His polished armor carried the mark of the Delutana Legate Army—the foundation of his confidence. No Atalan was expected to ignore the weight of that badge; he felt he had nothing to fear.

Kadim, who cared nothing for the insignias of the Alliance, stepped forward.

“You won’t even provide a reason? We have no way of knowing our wait time.”

“I told you no. Are you hard of hearing or just slow? Ask one more time and it will be deemed criminal obstruction, barbarian.”

“You truly have no answer? Or do I need to tear your jaw off to find it?”

“……What!?”

The sentry gripped his polearm, ready to strike in anger. But when his eyes met Kadim’s, he froze in place, seized by a deep, ancient terror. His soul told him that if he lunged, something catastrophic would follow—it was a pure, animal reflex.

He couldn’t bring himself to strike. But sensing the tension, other sentries began to converge. Kadim looked back at the man in the wide-brimmed hat, his voice a low, predatory growl.

“Hey, Legate. You have a choice.”

“……What is it?”

“You can watch me tear these men apart, or you can step up and resolve this yourself.”

“……”

To Kadim’s mind, it was a simple, logical ultimatum.

The contract was for protection to the Golden Highway—his work was essentially done. What was needed now was either violence or status. The official had said he would only reveal his rank in a crisis, and this seemed like a crisis to him.

After a thoughtful moment, Enrico chose the second option. He walked toward the guards alone.

“Put your pikes down and explain why the road is barred, men. Then, take me to your commanding officer.”

“What?”

“Ridiculous. Why would we do that?”

The sentries sneered, pointing their weapons more aggressively. But Enrico did not flinch.

“……Because it is your duty.”

They would recognize his emblem as well.

He removed his hat and presented a ring bearing the seal of the Delutana Council.

“I am Enrico Turis, Legate of Remtana. As a sitting member of the Delutana Council—the true masters of the Golden Highway—I am giving you an order: Stand down and explain this blockade. Bring me to your captain immediately.”

“……!!!”

The guards’ faces turned white as if they’d seen a ghost. They stood frozen for a second before their demeanor shifted entirely—they snapped to attention, saluting with thunderous voices.

“Loyalty! Honor to the City of Gold!”

“Loyalty! Honor to the City of Gold!”

“Loyalty! Honor to the City of Gold!”

The man in charge rushed forward, bowing low.

“Loyalty! Honor to the City of Gold! We welcome you to the Second Gate of the Golden Highway, Legate! Please forgive our ignorance in not recognizing your station! I will personally lead you to the captain now!”

“……”

Enrico let out a heavy sigh and pulled his hat back over his eyes.

Kadim and the other soldiers let go of their weapons, taking up the reins once more.