Chapter 1200: The Will of the King of Graycastle
“Now?” the guard asked. “Right away?”
“Yes.”
Protocol said otherwise. By any standard of noble etiquette, an ambassador representing a king deserved days of preparation — a formal welcome, a banquet, a meeting arranged for the evening at the earliest. Observing that protocol was how you demonstrated that you took the other party seriously.
Jean couldn’t afford the luxury. Had it not been raining, he would have gone to the dock himself. The Tusk and Redstone Gate delegations were still in their camp; the moment either family learned the size of that fleet, they would be racing for their own introduction to Graycastle. Whoever reached the ambassador first would frame the conversation.
“One more thing,” Jean said before the guard left. “Tell the Graycastle delegation I’m the sole authority governing the Sedimentation Bay.”
“Yes, sir.”
The guard went. Jean immediately regretted saying right away. What if the ambassador kept to form and waited several days? What if Jean had just signaled desperation to a king’s representative before the meeting had even begun?
He blamed his own vanity for the stumble. He should have said at the soonest possible time — casual, unhurried, a man with options. And why had the rain chosen today of all days to come down like a curtain?
The guard returned within an hour.
“Sir — they’re coming.”
Jean straightened up. “Take them to the parlour. Immediately.”
Ten people came in from the rain.
Half were soldiers who stayed in the corridor. The rest — assistants and clerks by their dress — arranged themselves neatly around a single man in the center. Jean’s first observation was their coats: bright, waterproof, some material he couldn’t identify — not fur, not treated leather. Every one of them was dry. Not damp. Dry, despite the downpour.
The rumors about Graycastle’s curious manufactures, it seemed, had understated things.
His second observation was the ambassador himself. The man’s features were unmistakably Mojin — the broad bones, the coloring. In the Sedimentation Bay, Mojin served as slaves. Here was one standing as the representative of a king.
Jean folded the surprise behind a wide smile. He spread his hands in greeting. “I’m the lord of the Sedimentation Bay. As you can see, this is a beautiful and bustling city — a fine place to rest. What brings you here today?”
He had deployed that particular tone on dukes. It usually earned at least a bow and a pleasantry.
The Mojin’s expression did not shift.
“My name is Iron Axe,” he said. “Commander of the First Army and supervisor of this expedition. Let’s not waste time. The Kingdom of Everwinter and the Kingdom of Wolfheart will soon become a battlefield. I have come on the order of the King of Graycastle, Chief of the Mojin clan, and ruler of the Fertile Plains, King Roland Wimbledon — to save you all.”
Jean stared at him.
A battlefield. What Chief? What were the Fertile Plains? Was that a declaration of war? Against both kingdoms simultaneously? He had opened the meeting expecting to negotiate terms of cooperation. Instead, a Mojin in a dry coat had just announced an invasion and called it a rescue.
“Er—”
Zum spoke first: “Is the First Army the army that defeated the church?”
“Yes,” Iron Axe said.
“Sir Iron Axe.” Zum gathered himself. “Naturally, none of us want to see a war here. But we don’t speak for everyone in the kingdom. There will be those who resist. If your army can persuade them—”
Jean nodded emphatically. Good man. Let the Graycastle army deal with the Tusk and Redstone Gate; let them grind each other down while Jean positioned himself as the cooperative local authority.
He glanced at Iron Axe with something approaching satisfaction.
Iron Axe looked back at him with something approaching contempt.
“You don’t have a choice,” Iron Axe said. “None of you do. The entire human race will have to fight when the enemy arrives. This war has already begun — in a place none of you know about. You’ve heard the rumors: the church, the Divine Will, the attack of a foreign race from beyond the mountains.”
Jean knew the rumors. Every merchant who passed through the Sedimentation Bay seemed to carry a different version. The kind of thing you discussed over drinks, not at a diplomatic table.
“These rumors are true,” Iron Axe said. The words arrived flat and final as a door closing.
Thunder cracked outside.
In the stables near the dock, Smarty was draped over the fence rails like wet laundry.
“Think they’re made of iron?” He watched the Graycastle soldiers through the gap between planks.
“Iron rusts.” White ran a cloth along the horse’s back and squeezed water from his sleeve. “My opinion? They’re not human. No reasonable person stands out in this.”
Within the hour, hundreds of men had poured off the ships and occupied the harbor. The peddlers had scattered ahead of the storm, but the soldiers erected tents in the middle of the square — dark green canvas going up with practiced speed until sheds covered half the dock.
Alongside the tents, they positioned metal tubes at the crossroads and on the higher sections of road. The tubes didn’t look like weapons. They caught the grey light and glinted, and looking at them gave White a feeling he didn’t have words for — something low in the stomach.
Each tube had a soldier standing beside it. The men wore waterproof cloaks, but no cloak was proof against a Sedimentation Bay storm: gusts drove the rain sideways, under collars, through any seam. White could picture the water tracing cold lines down their backs, soaking fabric against skin.
The local lord had built covered sheds all along the dock for exactly this kind of weather. The soldiers hadn’t glanced at them. They stood straight and still in their gleaming cloaks, each one anchored to his station like a post driven into wet ground.
“Graycastle men are insane,” White muttered.
Smarty frowned. He’d stopped performing and was actually looking at something.
“What?” White said.
“Look at the cargo ships tied up inside. Now look at the ones outside the harbor.” Smarty pointed, first one direction, then another. “The ones outside are three-masted sailing ships — but they’re riding high. Too high.”
“High?”
“Draft. How deep the hull sits in the water. Even a fully unloaded cargo ship sits deeper than those sailing ships outside. Those ships out there…” Smarty lowered his voice. “I think they might be empty.”
White looked. He didn’t answer.
The long history of demons reached Jean Bate in Iron Axe’s measured cadences: a war between mankind and demonkind that recurred every four centuries; the certainty that this cycle, the demons would breach the Impassable Mountain Range; the irrelevance of which individual kingdom resisted or submitted when the breach came.
Jean let the words settle in layers. The north of the Kingdom of Everwinter was nothing but mountains — sheer ridges stacked against each other as far as anyone had mapped them. It was the most impenetrable natural barrier on the continent. The idea that an army could pour through it was the kind of thing you heard from lunatics and travelers who’d had too long a sea voyage.
“Are you certain?” Jean asked, and heard how small the question sounded after everything Iron Axe had described.
“No.” Iron Axe shrugged, as if certainty were a luxury he’d given up. “That’s why I brought scouts. But it doesn’t matter which direction the demons come from. They’re coming. We unite or we’re exterminated. Those are the terms.”
The room had the quality of a fever dream — solid walls, familiar furniture, rain on the windows, and a Mojin commander speaking about the extinction of mankind as calmly as a man discussing cargo rates.
Jean’s clerk and guards wore the same expression he imagined he was wearing.
He cleared his throat. “Granting everything you’ve said is true. Why are you here? Isn’t the Kingdom of Everwinter where your army is needed?”
“We’re attending to that as well,” Iron Axe said. “What we want here is straightforward: we want to move as many people as possible out of the path of this war. Freemen, slaves, refugees, vagabonds. Bring them somewhere they won’t be slaughtered when the fighting reaches the coast.” He paused. “Nobles are a different matter. Nobles choose for themselves. Cooperate with the First Army, and we restore your properties, titles, and lands when we depart. Obstruct us—”
Jean swallowed.
“—and you become the First Army’s enemy,” Iron Axe finished. His voice carried no particular heat. It was worse for that.
Chapter 1200 - The Will of the King of Graycastle
Translator: Transn Editor: Transn
“Now?” the guard asked blankly. “Right away?”
“Yes.”
Usually, according to common practices of the nobility, he should let the embassador rest for a few days and welcome him with a sumptuous banquet. At least, he should have set up a meeting time beforehand, possibly at night. After all, the embassador represented the King of Graycastle, and thus should be treated with formality to some degree.
However, Jean couldn’t wait any longer. Had it not been rainy outside, he would have rushed to the dock and met this embassador himself. Such a huge fleet would definitely draw the attention of the Tusk and the Redstone Gate Families. If either of them got in touch with Graycastle before him, things would become very complicated.
With this thought, Jean Bate said to the guard, “By the way, tell the Graycastle delegation that I’m the sole authority that governs the Sedimentation Bay.”
“Yes, sir.”
Yet after the guard left at his bidding, Jean suddenly regretted his impulsive action.
He should not have said “right away”. What if the embassador wanted to follow and observe the tradition first then call him a few days later?
Jean blamed his own vanity at the bottom of his heart. He should have been more straightforward.
And why did it rain right as he wanted to go out?
The baron felt miserable.
But surprisingly, the guard returned within an hour and brought him a good news.
“Sir, they’re coming.”
Jean Bate stood bolt upright and said, “Take them to my parlour immediately.”
…
The baron soon met the embassador from Graycastle.
There were only ten people who came, and half of them were soldiers that were guarding outside the door. The rest were all formally dressed, whom Jean gathered were assistants and clerks. The one in the middle was apparently the embassador himself. He noticed that the coats they were wearing were waterproof, as all of them were dry despite the pouring rain outside. The material of their coats had a bright, fresh color. It was, however, neither fur nor leather.
It appeared that the rumor which Graycastle did produce many curious items was true.
However, Jean squeezed his eyebrow as he looked on the embassador. The embassador was definitely a Mojin by his look. Why could a Mojin, who usually served as a slave here, be a noble in Graycastle?
Even though he was shocked, the baron showed a hearty smile and completely hid his emotions. He spread out his hands and said, “I’m the lord of the Sedimentation Bay. As you can see, this is a beautiful and bustling city, a wonderful place for you to take a rest. May I know what brought you here today?”
The baron was speaking in such a humble courteous manner, and he was confident that even a duke would receive him with some civilities.
But the Mojin remained expressionless. He replied flatly, “My name is Iron Axe, the commander of the First Army and also the supervisor of this expedition. Let’s save the small talk. The Kingdom of Everwinter and the Kingdom of Wolfheart will soon become a battlefield. I came here on the order of the King of Graycastle, Chief of the Mojin clan, and ruler of the Fertile Plains, King Roland Wimbledon, to save your all.”
“What the heck?”
Jean Bate could not believe what he had just heard, wondering what the Chief meant and where the Fertile Plains was. Was the embassador making a war threat against the Kingdom of Everwinter and the Kingdom of Wolfheart? Why did he threaten him outright without negotiation?
“Er…”
Instead, it was Zum who replied first, “Is the First Army the army that defeated the church?”
“Yes,” Iron Axe affirmed with a nod.
“Sir Iron Axe, we obviously don’t want to see a war here, but we can’t make the decision on our own. There will always be someone who will attempt to resist. If you could persuade them, then we can avoid this war.” Zum retorted.
Jean nodded vigorously, and he was glad that Zum did a good job. In that case, the Redstone Gate and the Tusk had to fight as well. He looked at Iron Axe triumphantly but was surprised to see a hint of sarcasm in Iron Axe’s eyes.
Iron Axe said placidly, “You don’t have a choice. The entire human race will have to fight when the enemy comes. In fact, this war has already begun in a place you don’t know. I think you’ve heard about some rumors about the church, the Divine Will, and the attack of a foreign race.”
Jean Bate gaped. As the lord of the port city, he had indeed heard about such things from marine merchants. However, these groundless rumors could only serve as the subject of public discussion but not a proper diplomatic topic at the negotiation table. Nonetheless, judging from the embassador’s tone, Jean realized he was serious.
“Yes, these are all true,” Iron Axe said slowly and firmly.
Thunders began to roar outside the window.
“Wow, are they all made out of iron?” Smarty asked as he leaned dramatically on the stable fences.
“Even iron will rust. In my opinion, they aren’t human,” White answered as he wiped the water off the horseback and fumbled his wet clothes. “Will a reasonable person stands in the rain? Only a lunatic will do that.”
Within an hour, hundreds of people exited from the ships and took control of the whole harbor. Pedlars were dispersed by the storm, but these men put up tents in the middle of the square. A few moments later, dark green sheds filled half of the dock.
In addition to the tents, Graycastle men also set up tube-shaped obstacles on the crossroad and some higher parts of the road. These metal tubes did not look like weapons, but they glinted in the rain, giving White a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Each “tube” was guarded by soldiers. Although everyone was wearing a waterproof cloak, it was impossible to stay completely dry in this weather. Gusts of wind were so furious that they sent rushes of rain in every direction. White could envision how water trickled down through those soldiers’ collars and soaked their clothes.
It must be awful to stand out there.
The Sedimentation Bay was wet and rainy all year round, so the local lord had built many temporary sheds in the dock area. However, these soldiers took no notice of them. They stood straight in their gleamy cloaks like rocks.
“Men from Graycastle are crazy…” White mumbled to himself.
“Hmm, weird,” Smarty muttered.
“What now?” White said gruffly.
“Look at those cargo ships, then look at those outside the harbor,” Smarty said. “The ones outside the harbour are three-masted sailing ships, but they’re shallow on the draft.”
“What’s a draft?”
“Just view it as a measurement for the cargo weight,” Smarty said dismissively. “Even though these cargo ships have been unloaded, they’re still much deeper on the draft than the sailing ships outside. I don’t understand. What are the Graycastle men up to? Are they bluffing about their forces?”
“What are you talking about?” White said impatiently.
“My point is… that these ships might be empty!” Smarty replied in a subdued voice.
…
Jean Bate did not pull himself together until Iron Axe finished.
He had just heard about the long, distant history of the wars between humans and demons, that this war took place every four hundred years, and that this time, the demons were very likely to invade the interior from the Impassable Mountain Range!
“Are you… sure?” Jean remembered that the north of the Kingdom of Everwinter was girdled by endless mountains and steep cliffs. How could the demons invade from there?
“No, I’m not sure. That’s why I brought my scouts here,” Iron Axe said while shrugging. “However, whichever direction the demons come from, it won’t
make a difference. We have to unite together and defend this continent. Otherwise, mankind will be exterminated.”
The baron suddenly had a queer feeling as if he were walking in his dream. He knew his clerk and guards all felt the same way.
“Ahem, alright then. Let’s suppose that what you said was all true,” Jean said after clearing his throat. “So why did the King of Graycastle send you here? Isn’t the Kingdom of Everwinter where you are suppose to be?”
“It is, and don’t you worry about that. What we want here is very simple, that is, to save as many people as possible from this war, including freemen, slaves, refugees and vagabonds,” Iron Axe paused for a moment and then continued, “except nobles. Nobles shall make their own choices. If you cooperate with the First Army, we’ll return your properties, land, titles and so on when we depart. If you try to stop us…”
Jean swallowed.
“You’ll be the First Army’s enemy,” Iron Axe finished his sentence coldly.