Clip-clop, clip-clop...
The rapid drum of hooves approached from the south. A gentle wind brushed against Don's face, making him narrow his eyes in comfort. The Carian Manor expanded in his vision, and once they crossed the narrowest land bridge, a majestic fortress loomed ahead.
It was a classic Western-style castle, its three tiers of walls rising steeply along the mountain's slope. Massive towers and imposing gates practically radiated the word "impregnable."
Whoa—
The two horses pulled up before the gate, hooves pawing at the earth. Alayn, now dressed in civilian clothes, turned with a smile. "First time at the Manor, isn't it? What do you think?"
Don remained silent. He looked at the fortress, then turned back to the narrow bridge behind them. He spoke flatly: "Invulnerable. That land bridge is too narrow for large maneuvers. The fields before the gates offer zero cover, meaning attackers would be decimated by ranged fire. The surrounding cliffs are sheer. A frontal assault here would be a suicide mission."
"You seem to know quite a bit about sieges." Alayn looked at him with appreciation. A single sentence had summarized the tactical reality of the Carian Manor.
"I've read some theories in books. They might not hold up in practice." Don shook his head modestly. In truth, Ashina's defensive experience wasn't entirely applicable to the Lands Between.
They lacked cannons here, but they possessed human-shaped nuclear weapons.
The two dismounted and handed their reins to the guards at the gate. These guards were gaunt with unnaturally long necks, appearing slightly deformed. They spoke with an involuntary drool, prompting Don to take a second look.
"Albinaurics. Allies of Caria," Alayn explained casually. He stepped forward and patted an old man on the shoulder, nearly knocking him into the dirt. "Albus! Things were quite lively last night, eh?"
"Easy, easy! You'll rattle my old bones apart." The Albinauric, leaning on a glintstone staff, recoiled with a worried expression. "The Cuckoos failed to take the manor. They won't take their frustrations out on the village, will they?"
The knight's expression clouded with concern, but he had no solution. Carian influence was compressed into this northwestern corner of Liurnia; they couldn't project their main force outside.
"Rest easy. Her Highness will find a way. If you're truly worried, take some men back to the Albinauric Village and check on them."
He offered a brief word of comfort before dragging the eavesdropping Don toward the interior.
The Albinauric Village hasn't been wiped out yet? Don thought. Good thing I arrived early. Stumbling upon nothing but ruins would have been a bore.
He glanced at the gatehouse draped in massive Carian Royal banners, noting the lack of human guards. As they passed through the deep, shadowy tunnel of the gatehouse, a thick white mist swirled before his eyes.
It was strange. Behind them, it was a bright, clear day, yet inside the Manor, the air was somber and cold. Before them lay a vast garden, overgrown with flora and bristling with glintstone crystals. A smooth flagstone path stretched forward, flanked on both sides by exquisite sculptures.
Flowers, statues, fountains—this was truly a Royal City. Were the mist to clear, it would undoubtedly be a magnificent sight.
"Don't wander off. It's still quite dangerous here," Alayn warned. As soon as the words left his mouth, Don froze.
His eye twitched. Two massive, pale hands crawled down from the walls, their slender fingers moving with the speed of spider legs. The grey-white skin was covered in pustules—a sight that would make anyone's sanity drop.
The "Fingercreepers" scuttled toward him, stopping a meter away. They extended fingers as thick as a man's thigh, stroking the air near him as if a pet dog were sniffing out a stranger.
Hell!
Don't's skin crawled; he nearly drew his blade. Fortunately, the hand-monsters retreated after a few seconds, scuttling back up the walls to huddle into balls, waiting for their next prey.
"Those Fingercreepers are quite cute, aren't they?"
Hearing the knight's teasing voice, Don rolled his eyes. There was absolutely nothing cute about those skin-crawling abominations.
They continued in silence. The Carian Manor was as complex as Don remembered. Coupled with the heavy mist, it was easy to get lost. One wrong turn, and the buried Fingercreepers would leap out to "give you a lift."
"Are you curious why we let you bleed and die at the manor when this fortress is so secure?" Alayn asked as he led Don onto the battlements toward the inner keep.
"No," Don replied, looking over the wall. He was busy thinking that a squad of crossbowmen stationed here could turn any enemy in the garden below into a pincushion.
"Why not?"
"Because being trapped in a lone fortress is its own kind of despair. This castle cannot sustain a large army forever. Better to fight bravely than to starve inside." Don licked his lips and continued smoothly: "Caria's supplies largely come from the lake. The clearing beneath the castle could be converted into fields, enough to sustain a thousand soldiers. But strong walls are never as reliable as courage. When a siege lasts too long and the people turn to cannibalism, loyalty is worth nothing in the face of hopelessness."
The knight turned, blinking in surprise. "You're more clear-headed than I am. I only considered that a retreat from a remnant force to a defeated one would shatter morale."
"I read it in books," Don replied with a smile. He had, after all, come from a defeated army himself.
They boarded a lift. With the sound of grinding gears, they ascended into the inner keep. Don passed through reinforced walls, wide foyers, manicured gardens, and hundreds of stone steps. If his physical constitution had been any weaker, he would have collapsed halfway.
"This manor is massive." Don looked back from the stone steps. Half of Liurnia was visible from this height. He couldn't fathom what the Cuckoos were thinking; taking this place was an impossible task.
By the time the full moon rose, they were still a short distance from Ranni's Rise.
"Keep it up, we're almost there." Alayn wiped sweat from his brow, leading Don up a second flight of stairs. Ahead, a Troll sat cross-legged on the ground.
It wore a strange helm composed of numerous mirrored lenses. It held a massive book, flipping through the pages. Sensing their approach, the Troll closed the book with a heavy thud.
"Master Iji. By Her Highness's command, I have brought Don Wright for an audience."
"Yes, I have heard." Iji's voice lacked the typical savagery of a Troll; instead, it held a unique, quiet wisdom. He leaned down, bringing his face close to Don's. After a long silence, he nodded.
"Good. Composed under pressure, with a spirit as deep as the sea. Truly a man of talent."
"Master Iji overpraises me," Don replied with calm dignity. He knew this was the Carian War Counselor, a man whose "walking stick" could crush a Cuckoo Knight into paste.
Iji nodded again but did not move from the archway behind him. Alayn looked confused as the Troll asked:
"Tell me: the Cuckoo Knights still possess the strength to attack. Why have they retreated to their camp to fortify?"
A test?
Don arched an eyebrow. He disliked riddles, but as they were all in the same boat, there was no need to hold back. He thought for a moment before answering.
"In Liurnia, there are three powers: the Academy, the Cuckoos, and the Carian Royals. This balance..."
"Wait. The Cuckoo Legion is the loyal hound of the Academy rebels."
Don't's face flashed with mockery. He couldn't say he knew the truth of their rift, so he framed it differently: "If they were loyal hounds, the Academy would not have sat idly by while the war raged. Had sorcerers participated last night, the manor would have fallen. This proves both sides are wary of each other."
Iji knew the reason, of course. He nodded. "Go on."
"The three powers have reached an equilibrium. Once they realized taking the manor was hopeless, the Cuckoos would be fools to continue the assault. Instead, they now need a 'strong' Caria to survive. This ensures the Academy won't dare close its gates, because while the Cuckoos can't get in, we certainly have ways."
Don spoke fluently. It was a matter of "keeping the enemy alive to maintain one's own value."
The battle at the small manor, like a butterfly's wing, had changed everything. The Academy's condition for sealing its gates was the mutual destruction of Caria and the Cuckoos—allowing the sorcerers to remain aloof while the others bled out.
"With a Caria capable of counter-attacking, the Academy dares not abandon the Cuckoos. In a war-torn continent, the Cuckoos can find work anywhere, but those sorcerers have nowhere to go. If Caria reclaims its lost lands, what will stop our blades from striking them down?"
"Well spoken!" Iji clapped his hands; the sound of two boulders colliding was deafening. The situation wasn't necessarily 'good' or 'bad,' but this level of judgment...
"Brave and resourceful. You are far superior to this idiot Alayn."
"Hey! Why bring me into this?" the knight protested, only half-following the logic.
Iji ignored him. "Strength can be raised through training. Caria does not lack strong warriors. But judgment and wisdom are born of experience. I have seen your records; I can only say that 'genius' is a thing that will always exist."
Don said nothing. He was showing his sharp edges, but a true man acts with transparency. Why feign weakness and treat others like fools?
"Enter. Her Highness is waiting." Iji rose slowly, clearing the archway. Don hesitated, thinking they still had a climb to the tower.
He straightened his disordered armor and stepped through. Beyond the arch, the space opened up into a serene courtyard. In the center lay a shallow, clear pool surrounded by a ring of high-backed chairs. The moonlight fell upon the water, reflecting a second silver moon.
The pool was like a mirror, the moon quiet. The soft radiance bathed a maiden seated in the chair directly opposite the entrance. Her head was slightly lowered, her features obscured, making her appear exceptionally tranquil and mysterious.
The scene reflected in Don's eyes, bringing a sudden peace to his heart. He etched this exquisite portrait deep into his memory.
A maiden beneath the moon, peerless and graceful.