Chapter 5: Nameless
The twenty-fourth day of the tenth month of Imperial Year 1026
In the center of Natua, Baum’s capital and only city, lay the square structure of Frieden, the sanctum of the Spirit King. In the days of old, the Spirit King had gifted humankind with the Five Spiritblade Sovereigns to free them from the dominion of the zlosta. The result had been the birth of the Grantzian Empire and, ultimately, Emperor Artheus proclaiming human dominion over Soleil. Humankind had worshipped the Spirit King as its god ever since. Almost every day, people arrived from all corners of the world to seek his blessing, which had turned Natua into a hub of prosperity.
Baum was often said to be small in breadth but great in stature. As the home of the Spirit King, it was respected and feared by the other nations of Soleil in equal measure. Its influence extended even to the Grantzian Empire, so when the rulers of other nations engaged in disputes with the empire, they often sought Baum’s aid to broker peace. When they did, their nobles would inevitably come seeking an audience with the archpriestess, the mistress of Frieden and the only person capable of communing with the Spirit King.
The archpriestess stood in one of Frieden’s many corridors. Before her towered an enormous door, covered in decorations wrought a thousand years ago by dwarven artisans. It swung open to reveal a cavernous space beyond.
The chamber was an underground storehouse piled high with Baum’s most valuable treasures. Spirit weapons, spirit armor, spirit stones—riches the other nations of Soleil would have given almost anything to claim. Robbers had broken in more than a handful of times, but they had never escaped with their takings. The entire complex lay under the watchful gaze of the archpriestess and her Far Sight. Recently, however, the archpriestess had been preoccupied. Her visit to the empire had taken her from Baum, and she had spent the trip touring as many towns and villages as time would allow. She had not had the chance to visit the storehouse in several weeks.
She found the place empty. Nothing remained but the thin echo of her footsteps. A smile formed on her face as she looked around. Someone had somehow managed to remove every last spirit armament.
A shard chipped from a spirit stone clinked against her foot. She bent down and picked it up, surveying the chamber again. No matter how hard she looked, her arcane eyes perceived only a white void.
“Of course.” Nodding in understanding, she turned about and left the storehouse.
As she walked up the stairs back to Frieden’s familiar marble halls, she caught the attention of a patrolling knight of the spirits.
“Might you know where I can find Lord Garda?”
“I last saw him in the northern corridor, Your Grace.”
“My thanks.”
With a small nod, she strode away, heels clacking on the stone. An observer particularly attuned to fluctuations in emotion might have sensed the anger in her stride, but the knight of the spirits only returned to her rounds, none the wiser.
The archpriestess walked in silence through dimly lit hallways. At last, she came to the sacred clearing at the heart of Frieden. The air was filled with trills of birdsong and the bubbling of a brook, and the wind rustled in the trees. The richness of nature reached out to calm her heart, but she shrugged off its embrace. Her gaze was fixed on the man before her.
He sat facing away from her, distinctive lilac skin on full display. His arms were as thick as tree trunks, strong enough that the pressure of their swing alone might send a man’s head flying. Yet as he was now, tearing chunks off a loaf of bread to feed to squirrels, it was hard to imagine he was kin to the zlosta of old.
“May I ask what you are doing here, Lord Garda?”
Garda set down the bread and got to his feet. Squirrels swarmed the loaf, squabbling among themselves for pieces.
“I’d hoped to speak with you, Your Grace.”
“What a happy accident. I had hoped to do the same.”
“Then you might as well go first.” Garda indicated for her to speak. “I’m in no hurry.”
“It appears my storehouse has been emptied of spirit weapons.” Her voice grew unmistakably firmer. “Would that happen to be the Crow Legion’s doing?”
Garda nodded without a hint of sheepishness. “We had need of them.”
The archpriestess’s brow furrowed skeptically. “May I take that to mean you intend to return them?”
Garda nodded again, folding his arms. “Of course. That’s why the One-Eyed Dragon set up his new foundry. Easy work it was not, but we managed to finish on time.”
In anticipation of battles to come, Hiro had constructed a weapons foundry in the east of Natua. After making use of the civil war in Steissen to secure labor and expertise, he had leveraged Baum’s relationship with Lichtein to acquire the leasehold rights to several mines. The chancellor of the empire had provided coin and additional manpower, while Lebering had sent ore under the guise of tea leaf shipments.
“I am aware. His Majesty explained his plans to me in person.”
“Good,” Garda grunted. “That’ll save me the trouble of filling you in.” He raised his arms in a lazy shrug. “We took your spirit stones to the foundry. Give us two or three years and we’ll return all the arms and armor we took.”
“I would not consider that to be repaying your debt.” The archpriestess raised an eyebrow, eyeing Garda distrustfully. “Aside from anything else, those spirit stones were the rightful property of Frieden to begin with.”
“As I said, pressing need.” Garda looked very much unrepentant. “The One-Eyed Dragon asked me to apologize on his behalf.”
“No, I need no apology. If the king of Baum has judged he has need of our weaponry, it is his to take.”
“Then why did you seek me out?”
“I was concerned it might have been the work of bandits. I would have had to start an investigation.” The note of regret in her voice turned to a reassuring smile. “But I appreciate your candor. I am glad not to have to turn Frieden upside down.”
“And I’m sorry for the fuss. If you won’t take an apology from the One-Eyed Dragon, perhaps you’ll take one from me.”
The words they traded were empty of all but provocation, a silent duel fought with implication alone. They poked and prodded at each other, each trying to discern the other’s intentions.
“Might I ask what you have done with so many spirit armaments?” the archpriestess asked.
No sooner had the question left her lips than Garda’s demeanor shifted. His eyes grew hawkish, like those of a hunter that had snared his prey, and the corners of his mouth pulled back like a predator served a plate of meat.
“Do those eyes of yours not tell you?”
The archpriestess’s eyes widened for a moment in incomprehension, but gradually, understanding dawned. She looked down, and her shoulders began to tremble with laughter.
“Aha...” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, no longer able to contain herself. “Ha ha ha... Yes, indeed. As you say. Whyever did I ask?”
Her laughter faded, and she regarded him with a radiant smile. The benevolence of Baum’s beloved lady was alluring indeed. Yet the zlosta’s brow only furrowed. He tensed, sinking a little into a guarded stance. The squirrels at his feet abandoned their gamboling and scattered for the cover of the undergrowth.
The archpriestess narrowed her eyes at the shift in his bearing. “Well,” she said with a bow, “it would appear the mystery has been solved. If you would excuse me.”
Garda raised a hand. “Not so fast, Your Grace. I had a question for you, you may recall.”
“Of course.” A flicker of irritation crossed her face as she cocked her head. “Do forgive me. By all means, speak.”
“The One-Eyed Dragon revealed much to me during your trip to the empire.”
The archpriestess said nothing to that.
“And what truths he had to tell. When first I heard, I could have laughed.” The zlosta’s voice grew haughty, almost mocking. “But then, so would any man if they were told they were speaking to the War God in the flesh.”
“It almost sounds like you believe these tales.”
“That I do. But not because of anything so sentimental as trust.” In his mind’s eye, Garda saw again his arrival in Soleil. He chose his words carefully, weighing her responses. “It is because I have experienced the same. In the time I wielded Bebensleif, the power of the Demiurgos brought me to these shores.”
Encountering Mille, whom he had rescued from violent slavers, had taught him that humans could be kind. To repay that debt, he had formed the Liberation Army, taken the bandit leaders Huginn and Muninn as his lieutenants, and set about overthrowing the rulers of Lichtein. His rebellion had come to an end at Hiro’s hands. After his defeat, Bebensleif had abandoned him—or rather, the Fellblade had been stripped from him by the Demiurgos.
“An act different in scale, perhaps, but not in kind. The Spirit King is a Lord of Heaven. It is not so difficult to believe he could summon a boy from another world.”
There was no way to know what had drawn the Spirit King to Hiro, but the deity had chosen well. Hiro had set the humans free from oppression and made them the most prosperous race in Aletia.
“The One-Eyed Dragon learned of me from the emperor’s letter, it seems. But who was it that told the emperor?”
That individual was standing before Garda now: a person whom even the emperor could not disregard. Only one person in Soleil could exert authority over such an otherwise unassailable ruler.
The archpriestess inclined her head. “You are a pureblood zlosta, Lord Garda. With the Far Sight—Gaia, to call it by its name—it was a simple task to pick you out from the humans of Lichtein.”
Garda had expected her to hide the truth or perhaps to try and deny it. Instead, she flatly admitted it.
“I was a pawn, was I not?” he continued warily. “A dog tossed into the ring to gauge the One-Eyed Dragon’s strength.”
“I am afraid I have not the slightest idea what you mean.”
“Don’t you now? He told me all about you, you know. How you assisted him in the early days.”
It was the archpriestess who had helped Hiro recover his memories of his life as the War God, and it had been thanks to her intervention that he had regained the Black Camellia and achieved official recognition as the War God’s heir. Because she had nudged the emperor to inform him about Garda, he had first begun to rise in status.
“But after he took the rank of fourth prince, your interventions ceased. Is that not so?”
“What are you insinuating, Lord Garda?”
“That you’re his enemy, Your Grace.” Garda drew his greatsword from his back and leveled it at her throat. “Or perhaps I should call you First Princess Freyr Straea von Grantz?”
As he spoke the name, raw malice blossomed from the archpriestess. Flower petals scattered on the wind, dispersed by the force of her presence. Birds fluttered from the treetops in alarm. All around, terrified animals retreated to the undergrowth.
Cling. From thin air came the tinkle of bells. Garda glanced around for the source of the sound, but then the archpriestess stepped forward and he could no longer afford to look away.
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