Ch.5 Magic Encyclopedia III

The sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon by the time they arrived at Dum. The towering gates stood before them, flanked by armoured soldiers with spears in hand and sharp eyes that missed little.

They inspected each traveller, each cart, ensuring that nothing and no one undesirable slipped through their watchful grasp.

“State your business,” one of the guards called as they approached.

“Delivering purple herbs to Lord Saran,” the old man answered in polite.

A brief inspection followed. Routine, efficient, designed not just for security but as a quiet display of authority.

Once satisfied, the guard waved them through after collecting the entry fee. The city of Dum welcomed them with the last remnants of daylight.

Merchants hurried to close their stalls. Raised voices of final bargains before the night set in. Children weaved through alleyways, carefree and unburdened.

Lanterns burned to life, illuminating the cobblestone pathways.

Croxeus, now traveling under the alias Markus, took it all in. A city was more than its buildings, the people, the society, the structure.

A city was a living thing. Not flesh and bone, but power and ambition. It consumed people as easily as it did resources.

To thrive in a city meant to understand its hidden currents. The way power moved, the way influence dictated worth. Those who saw only the surface, the lantern-lit streets, the shiny markets were already lost, swallowed whole by the beast that was civilization.

“I know our deal was just for getting me here,” the farmer spoke up hesitantly, “but my back isn’t what it used to be. Think you could lend a hand unloading these herbs at the noble’s house? Your muscles would make quick work of it.”

Markus or Croxeus, nodded. “Lead the way.”

They arrived at the gates of Lord Saran’s estate not long after. It was ostentatious. A giant mansion wrapped in high walls and guarded by soldiers who seemed more decorative than practical.

The farmer informed them of the delivery, and after a short wait, the noble himself emerged, followed by a handful of his men.

Saran was a thin man with sharp features that twisted into an expression of disdain as he approached. His silk robes were embroidered with gold. A peacock’s display.

Expensive garments hiding the brittle bones beneath. By attire, he resembled a wealthy noble, but his demeanour betrayed the crudeness beneath the luxury.

“You brought the herbs, I see,” Saran said impatiently. Without waiting for a response, he leaned in to inspect the bundles on the cart.

“Yes, my lord,” the farmer said with a slight bow. “I grew them myself and transported them all the way here.”

Saran waved his hand dismissively. “How much for this... ragged bunch?”

“Seventeen gold coins, my lord,” the farmer said, keeping his calm despite the noble’s condescension.

Saran scoffed. Annoyance, evident on his face. “Seventeen? For this?”

He gestured at the herbs dismissively. “These look like they were picked from a ditch. The leaves are wilted, the colour’s off, I won’t give a dime more than seven gold coins.”

The farmer’s expression faltered, but he persisted. “My lord, I came from far away. These herbs took months to grow and tend. I even hired an adventurer for one gold coin to ensure their safe delivery.” He gestured toward Croxeus, who shifted slightly under the noble’s scrutinizing eyes.

Saran’s face darkened as he took a menacing step forward. “I don’t care how far you came or what you paid. I didn’t ask for these! And these herbs are garbage, probably stink like the muck they grew in. Six gold coins, and not a penny more.”

“Can you say that again?”

The farmer’s voice changed. Calm. Authoritative. Not the voice of a wronged commoner but something colder.

The air suffocated. And then the body of the old farmer began to transform.

The frail posture straightened. The wrinkles, carved by decades of toil, faded like illusion. Rough peasant garb dissolved, replaced by royal attire. Jewels caught the glowing light, but they paled in comparison to the man himself.

King Yuyutsu stood where a mere farmer had once been.

His golden hair shimmered, his eyes cool and detached, as if even the world itself had lost its right to surprise him. This was not the first time he had done this. It would not be the last.

The soldiers stiffened. Their breath caught in their throats. Saran, whose arrogance had been an unshakable fortress mere moments ago, fell apart like a crumbling wall.

“K-K-King Yuyutsu? Your Majesty?” Saran’s voice barely carried. His feet stumbled backward, as if distance alone could save him. “Why are you here?”

Yuyutsu smiled. “I am here to investigate you.”

“Anonymous complaints have reached my ears. Allegations of exploitation and greed.” His voice was serene, detached. “It seems those complaints were justified.”

Saran’s thoughts scrambled like rats in a sinking ship. “No, Your Majesty, I assure you! Lies! Misunderstandings! I—"

He spun desperately. His trembling hand thrust toward a nearby guard. “This fool, he stinks! That’s why I thought the smell came from the herbs! And its nighttime, I couldn’t see the quality properly”

“Enough.”

The single word fell like a guillotine.

Saran’s excuses died in his throat. Silence.

“Cease your pitiful squirming. Guards, arrest him.” The king commanded.

From the shadows, armed soldiers emerged. Their armour gleamed under the lanterns. At their helm stood a man in elegant attire, the kingdom’s prime minister.

Saran thrashed, a drowning man grasping at an indifferent ocean. “Your Majesty, please! I am loyal! I”

His protests became distant as the guards dragged him away.

The prime minister approached, bowing slightly. His face was a mixture of respect and concern. “Your Majesty, was it necessary to handle this matter personally? We could have dealt with him without exposing you to risk.”

Yuyutsu smiled faintly. Not amusement. Not warmth. “A king must walk among his people, Prime Minister. How else can I understand their struggles? This was not merely about Saran. I have learned much during my time here. I needed to witness the truth with my own eyes.”

Correct. A shepherd must walk among his flock, not to protect them, but to know which ones to slaughter first.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

A pause.

“Besides,” Yuyutsu continued, “I had this young man to protect me.”

Croxeus blinked, caught off guard by the words. “I... I didn’t do much, Your Majesty.”

He stood frozen, his mind racing to process the reality before him. Moments ago, the old farmer had seemed like an ordinary man. Now, in his place stood King Yuyutsu, the ruler of an entire kingdom.

The shift in atmosphere was noticeable. Even the air around him seemed different.

This wasn’t the carefully protected and manufactured respect Croxeus had seen for politicians in his world. Politicians, Presidents and Prime Ministers held little or no respect in the real world. Those were just empty posts filled by faceless fools.

Croxeus’s thoughts turned cold. So, this is what a true ruler looks like. In my world, politicians were jokes. Faceless, powerless, discarded when convenient. But this man, he does not ask for authority. He carries it.

Power begged for was power undeserved. The strong did not seek permission to rule, they ruled.

Yuyutsu’s calm voice interrupted his thoughts. “Even if I wish to reward you, I cannot disrespect you or the terms of our agreement.” He glanced at the Prime Minister. “One gold coin, as promised.”

The Prime Minister stepped forward, handing the coin over without hesitation. Croxeus accepted it.

The king’s expression softened slightly. “However,” Yuyutsu continued, “I would offer you something more, a place among the royal guards. You appear capable. This position would not only pay handsomely but also ensure your future within my kingdom. What do you say?”

Croxeus considered. An opportunity for influence, resources, knowledge... But he didn’t care about it.

He thought to himself, while this may be an excellent way to make connections…but…

After a moment’s pause, he came up with an excuse. “It’s an incredibly generous offer, Your Majesty. But I think I wish to roam this world first… see its wonders before settling into a role. Freedom is the greatest treasure an adventurer can possess.”

Yuyutsu’s faint smile remained. A reaction long calculated, an outcome long anticipated.

“Spoken like a true Hami native. Your people are known for their wandering spirits.” He stepped closer. “Still, I wished to try. Perhaps our paths will cross again someday, Markus.”

With that, the king turned, his prime minister close behind. His departure was not an exit but silent wave of power withdrawing.

Croxeus watched him go. He was an outsider in this world, but even outsiders could seize opportunities.

As they moved beyond Markus' earshot, the Prime Minister leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your Majesty, we received troubling news in your absence. King Raaz of the Meer Kingdom launched an assault on the Ketu Empire. He was utterly defeated. Casualties on his side exceed fifty thousand.”

Yuyutsu halted mid-step. His eyes gleamed with disbelief. “King Raaz? Attacking Ketu? Has he lost his mind?”

The Prime Minister shook his head. “The reasons remain unclear, but the consequences are dire. The Ketu Empire is unpredictable. If they retaliate, should we intervene?”

Yuyutsu's response came without hesitation. “No. The Maya Kingdom will maintain its long-standing neutrality. We will not involve ourselves in the wars of others.”

The Prime Minister hesitated. “With respect, Your Majesty, neutrality is ideal in peace but dangerous in war. Aligning with strength is often the wiser course. Our borders touch the Ketu Empire, not Meer. If we displease Emperor Shyok, we may suffer the consequences of his wrath.”

Yuyutsu smiled. “King Shyok is no fool. He values pragmatism over pettiness. Our stance must be clear. We condemn King Raaz’s reckless actions, but we will not move unless Ketu forces our hand. Besides, has Emperor Shyok even declared his intentions regarding Meer?”

The Prime Minister exhaled, nodding. “Not yet. His decision is unknown.”

“Then we do nothing,” Yuyutsu said. “Diplomacy is not about sides. It is about securing the best future for our people. Maya prospers because we avoid unnecessary wars. Let’s not forget that.”

There were no sides in the grand scheme of survival, only winners and corpses. Nations did not move based on morality or justice, they moved based on power and opportunity.

The world was not built on fairness. It was built on leverage, on knowing when to bend and when to break. Idealists believed in alliances. Realists believed in outcomes.

The Prime Minister bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “As you say, Your Majesty.”

The two men walked on, their voices fading into the night.

Croxeus stood frozen, watching them disappear. He then exhaled slowly.

For a moment, he had felt small. Insignificant. A feeling he used to feel everyday but not recently.

In real life, speaking before a CEO had made his palms sweat. Yet here he was, standing before a king. A monarch whose word could shape the fate of thousands.

He had no idea how to conduct himself in front of someone with such power and authority.

He shook his head. Enough information for now. He needed rest.

Tomorrow, he would go back to the castle. He had to check upon his new family.

*

The grand chamber of the palace lay shrouded in dim torchlight, its vast emptiness suffocating.

Shadows stretched across the cold marble floor like tar. At the end of the chamber, a set of broad steps led up to a throne carved from gold and wood. At the top of the throne sat a strong but weathered man.

His broad shoulders, worn but still formidable, framed a face etched with the scars of age and responsibility. His sharp jawline and sharp eyes radiated a mixture of fury and weariness. There was no warmth in those eyes, only judgment.

The doors groaned open. Heavy boots clashed against marble as King Raaz strode forward, his form outlined against the light. His personal guards followed him, faceless, silent. He moved with the grace of authority, yet beneath his confidence lay a buried weight.

He knew why he had been summoned.

He halted at the base of the throne and inclined his head. “Good evening, Father. I have returned.”

His father’s voice was a blade, honed with contempt. “There is nothing good about this evening, you FOOL.”

Raaz’s expression tightened. His father’s tone was colder than usual. “Father, if this is about--”

“Silence!” The word lashed out like a whip. His father’s voice, though aged, carried the weight of absolute authority. “Do you think me blind? Do you think me a fool? Explain to me why you launched an unprovoked attack on the Ketu Empire.”

Raaz straightened, gathering his composure. “It was necessary. Ketu’s influence grows unchecked. Their power festers like a disease, threatening to swallow us whole. We had the military advantage. It was the right moment to strike.”

His father scoffed with disgust. “Enough! Do not insult me with such feeble justifications. I know the real reason. It is that damned Irgis.”

Raaz’s fists clenched involuntarily. “Father, leave Lady Irgis out of this!”

“Silence!” The old king’s voice boomed across the hall. “Where did I go wrong in raising you? Were the countless women in your harem not enough? What spell has this vixen woven around you that you would forsake the very foundation of your kingdom?”

“Father!” Raaz’s voice rose in frustration.

But his father pressed on, merciless.

“You still do not see, do you? She does not love you. She never has. If she did, she would have shown it after your first victory, or your second. But she waited. Waited until you had power, until you could be used. And like a dog begging for scraps, you threw everything at her feet. You let your emotions rule you. And for what? A woman who whispers sweet nothings but sharpens daggers behind your back?”

Raaz opened his mouth, but the old king’s raised hand silenced him once more.

“Do not interrupt me!” The old king’s voice was no longer just anger. It was disappointment, it was sorrow.

“Wisdom is chasing you, Raaz, but you’re running even faster, after a dammed woman! Do you even understand what you have done? You have not only lost a battle, but you have also slaughtered fifty thousand of our own soldiers. Fifty thousand! Do you even understand the weight of that number?”

The hall was deathly silent.

The old king exhaled. The fire in his eyes dimmed, replaced by exhaustion. “Do you have any idea how much I sacrificed to maintain peace with Ketu? Decades of diplomacy, countless efforts, undone in a single, reckless moment. All because my son, no, because a lovesick fool mistook lust for destiny.”

Raaz opened his mouth to argue, but the old king raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Perhaps I was too hasty in passing you the crown. Perhaps I should have held on to a few more years, beaten the ignorance out of you, taught you that war is not a game of conquest, but of survival.”

A pause. Then, the old king turned to the aged advisor standing at his side. “Gush. Prepare my departure for tomorrow. I will go myself to speak with Emperor Shlok. We must salvage what little remains before this becomes irreversible.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The advisor bowed deeply.

“And ensure our finest offerings are prepared for the emperor.”

At last, the king turned his gaze back to Raaz, his son, his greatest failure. “Pray Raaz, pray that I can undo what you have done. Pray that Emperor Shlok does not demand more than we can give. Pray, Raaz. For all our sake.”

Raaz stood frozen, his hands balled into trembling fists. No words came to his defence. For what could he say?

No argument could refute the truth laid bare before him.

His father was right.

And that realization burned worse than any battlefield wound.