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Far to the eastern coasts of Cyndoryll, a boat with the mast of the three headed princesses docks as a third arrival. Two of the ships have the mast of the white ten thousand ray sun. Men in darker tones compared to their Hemrean counterparts step down in steps that command for their horses to be quickly placed in front of them. Meanwhile, a scrawny whiter toned young man possesses a royal belt that does all the talking for the laborers to bring him his white horse.
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“A hundred and sixty-eight hours, Adviser Horney.” A woman with a wide ship captain’s hat report, “Sailed through three storms with no loss or need of repair.”
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“We were blessed with favored winds captain” He says, almost priestly in preaching, “I’m sure the Gods will continue to favor me as well as I am to serve the princesses of the great Kinguin.”
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The darker toned men come up with their whinnying chestnut horses, “Cyndoryll’s shores are as beautiful as they are, aren’t they Adviser?” Speaks the one in the center, commanding more power in his words with his bulging muscles, “And the promise of keeping your ship safe is done. Give us our loot and we will let you off”
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“Ah~ For sure Chief Junmo, but only once we arrive at Kinguin.”
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Junmo's dark eyes narrow, his thick brows furrowing. "The ggreement is not that, Adviser. Our sack of bargaining has made done, escorting your vessels safely ashore. Now, we demand for your time in upholding your promise."
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Horney smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. "Of course, Chief Junmo. And you shall have your reward, in full. But would it not be more fitting to receive it in the grand halls of Kinguin, before the princesses themselves? Imagine the honor and prestige that would bring to you and your people."
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The chief's men shift uneasily, hands drifting toward the hilts of their curved blades. Junmo holds up a hand, staying them. "Our heads heed for the rulers of Djahatis. Not in your filthy riches and crowns. The spoils of the agreement, now before we offer yours to the sea”
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"Ah, calm down Chieftain. But do think of the possibilities!" Horney presses, his tone honey and persuasive. "An alliance with Kinguin could grant you access to riches far beyond a few chests of gold and jewels. Lands, titles, a place of power in the new order..."
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Junmo's grip tightens on the reins of his steed, rough breath huffing out of his thick nose. "Our interest does not align"
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The captain, keen to the growing tension between the men, interjects, "If I may, perhaps a compromise could be reached? A portion of the loot now, as a sign of good faith, with the remainder delivered upon reaching the capital?"
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Horney's jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, but he quickly smooths his expression into one of genial agreement. "A wise suggestion, captain. What say you, Chief Junmo? Will you accept this gesture of our sincerity and accompany us to Kinguin?"
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Junmo regards the Adviser coldly, weighing his options. The lure of greater wealth is tempting, but so too is the desire to be done with these schemers and their machinations. At last, he gives a curt nod. "Betray my men and property, your head will be mine to loot."
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Horney bows deeply, his smile sharp as a knife's edge. "Of course, Chief Junmo. You have my word, and the word of the princesses. We shall all prosper from this alliance; in ways you cannot yet imagine..."
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The laborers all line up and work on carrying the boxes and sacks out of the ships. Half from the Adviser’s ship move to the Djahatians’. All the while, Horney and his fellow mates and supposedly guards take the King’s Road with the Djahatian mens’ shoulders already tense by some eyes watching them and the unnatural landscape that they must cross.
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Straight ahead, past the avalanched mountains that hold the docks, are vast plains that one can see a kingdom and another. The trees and bushes color themselves in autumn with the roads cemented and properly cleared of any leaves that would rustle in the gallop of their horses.
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Then, a distant roar echoes across the plains, causing the horses to neigh nervously. Horney's eyes widen as he spots a pride of wild lions emerging from the tree line, their powerful forms stalking towards the road.
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"Chief Junmo, we must act quickly!" Horney urges, his voice tinged with fear. "Your men must protect us from these wild beasts. It is imperative that we reach Kinguin safely."
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Junmo's brow furrows, his gaze fixed on the approaching lions. "These are your property and we have no fight against them” He knows that these are a stranger’s lands. One needing to know the culture and act accordingly but, this noble punches him in the guts in a way that he wants to cut his head off. The chief's men nod in agreement, their postures relaxed despite the potential danger. Horney's frustration mounts as he realizes the Djahatians will not readily comply with his demands.
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“Well, you have now! Get them! Else they’ll attack us and eat us all.”
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The Djahatians keep to themselves, delivering their own beliefs and gestures to a strange land. Suddenly, one of the lions breaks from the pride, charging towards the group with frightening speed. It lunges at one of Junmo's men, its claws tearing into the man's flesh as he cries out in agony.
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“SEE! SEE! HAHA! IT’S EATING YOUR MEN!”
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The disappointment and shame with bitten lips, Junmo roars with his blades drawn to brutishly attack the lions. His eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. Even their horses are mad enough to kick and stomp through the creatures in a fashion that rival the best Cyndoryll knights.
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With Chief Junmo and his men showing impressive power, their cuts striking true and through the lions. Their innate ability to heal rapidly without even uttering a singly Mahna word widens the Adviser’s interests, having him think of Princess Rumen.
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Horney watches the scene unfold, his expression a mix of concern and calculating satisfaction. As the Djahatians battle the lion, he calls out, "Chief Junmo, we must move on! Your men can handle this threat, but we cannot afford any further delays."
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Junmo, his blade dripping with the lion's blood, turns to face Horney. The chief's face is etched with grim resignation, the weight of his beliefs and the reality of the situation warring within him. He says no words, only that his eyes growl with a fist burning with bitterness. The stench of fresh blood burning his vision red. But his men calmly pat their leader on the back, before quickly and swiftly finishing up the last of the fleeing pride.
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“Adviser” one of the Horney’s men gallop up to closer to speak, “Have you heard of the news?”
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“Yes, yes,” Pridefully says, “The lord magister is back and is preparing to host the festival for May.”
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“Mægfæge is its title.”
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“What of it?”
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“The princess are holding their own little competition to see who will get most of the votes by the end of the celebration. That princess who has the most votes from the people present will be crowned as Mayfairy. Though bearing only the title with no further benefits. Ober made a statement that whoever is Mayfairy will be assured of recognition by the nation and for those who come from distant lands.”
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“Mmmm~ The princesses would love that,” Which then he mutters, “And most likely use fruitfully.”
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“Which Princess would you support Adviser?”
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“I support them all of course! Which is why I will try to take turns joining them in their campaigns.”
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“Wonderful, as expected of you Adviser.”
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Thunder cracks in the sky and a light drizzle slowly pelts down on the riders. All in the Adviser’s smiles, he suggests going to the nearest kingdom for shelter this time, the chief and his men does not make any reasons and simply follow with their heads laying low. And so, proceed onto the road, galloping for the nearest kingdom which the Adviser introduced as Pheldun.
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The drizzle quickly turns into a heavy downpour, drenching the riders as they gallop towards Pheldun. Horney's white robes cling to his skin, his usually immaculate appearance now disheveled and waterlogged. He grits his teeth, urging his horse to go faster, desperate to reach the shelter of the kingdom before the storm worsens.
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Behind him, Chief Junmo and his men ride stoically, their expressions grim as the rain pelts against their dark skin. They are no strangers to harsh weather, but the unfamiliar landscape and the recent battle with the lions have left them on edge. Junmo's eyes dart back and forth, scanning the surrounding plains for any signs of further danger.
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“Chief” Horney starts, “Do you fond yourself of Hemrean princesses?”
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Junmo ponders for a bit, kindly opening up for thought, “No” He bluntly says,
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“Is that so? But I’d still love you to meet my princess Thean. She is a beauty and powerful too.”
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“I have no need of that woman.”
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“I see…”
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As they ride, Horney's mind races with thoughts of the upcoming Mægfæge festival and the potential benefits it could bring to the princesses. He knows that securing the support of the people will be crucial in solidifying their power, and he is determined to do whatever it takes to ensure their victory.
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Suddenly, a sharp whistle cuts through the sound of the pounding rain. Horney's head snaps up, his eyes widening as he sees a large group of bandits emerging from the treeline, their weapons glinting menacingly in the fading light.
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"Ambush!" one of Horney's men cries out, drawing his sword.
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The bandits charge forward, their battle cries mingling with the thunder overhead. Horney's heart pounds in his chest as he realizes the severity of the situation. He wheels his horse around, facing Chief Junmo and his men.
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"Chief Junmo, you must protect me!" Horney demands, his voice high in panic. "I am the Adviser to the princesses, and my safety is of the utmost importance!"
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Junmo regards Horney coldly, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. The rain streams down his face, mingling with the blood and sweat from the earlier battle. For a moment, he says nothing, his dark eyes boring into Horney's.
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Then, with a curt nod to his men, Junmo spurs his horse forward, leaving Horney behind. The Adviser's mouth falls open in shock and disbelief as he watches the Djahatians ride away, their forms quickly disappearing into the sheets of rain.
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"Wait!" Horney cries out, his voice cracking with desperation. "You can't leave me here!"
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But it's too late. The bandits are upon him, their rough hands grabbing at his robes and dragging him from his horse. Horney's screams are lost in the chaos of the ambush, his pleas for help falling on deaf ears as the bandits swarm around him like vultures.
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As Junmo and his men ride away, a grim sense of satisfaction settles over the chief. A knowing smile that he cannot bring himself to care.
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The rain continues to pour as the Djahatians gallop across the plains, and back on the road to retrace their pace.
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