"Are you still angry?"
"Why would I still be angry?"
Sarah and Michael were sitting across each other on the carriage. They are on their return journey from the Sombra region.
"You just disappeared for a whole day without as much as a word" Sarah's expression was neutral like usual but her tone carried an unmistaken hint of resentment. "We thought you ended up as some beast's meal, formed search parties to look for you and when the sun fell, when we were about to give up all hope you suddenly show up acting confused and refusing to explain yourself whatsoever besides a few words claiming you were hunting monsters"
'Yeah… she is still angry' Micheal turned his head to the window. He judged that any attempt at explaining himself now would only prove to provoke her further, not that he even wanted to explain himself in the first place. 'In hindsight I should have said something and not just run into the forest right after they defeated the Tatar but there is no way in hell I will admit to spending a whole day running around bushes, holding antlers above my head just to lure and kill that forest freak'
Michael's eyes darted up to the sky where the giant silhouette covered everything in shadow. Tatar's dead body floated high in the sky, silently following the convoy of carriages, all thanks to Elijah's convenient use of magic.
***
As the convoy neared Edenbrau, Michael caught his first proper glimpse of the city beyond the rolling hills and giant walls. It was… different from what he expected. He had envisioned towering medieval castles, cosy taverns, or something that screamed fantasy. Instead, the cityscape before him was eerily reminiscent of victorian-era London.
Massive iron lampposts lined the wide, paved streets, their ornate designs curling at the tops like frozen tendrils of flame. Buildings of brick and stone stretched into the sky, their facades adorned with statues, intricate carvings, and massive stained-glass windows that shimmered beneath the overcast light. The air carried the scent of rain-soaked stone, burning coal, and something faintly metallic.
But it wasn't the architecture alone that caught Michael's attention. It was the people.
The streets were full with them.
Crowds lined the sidewalks, kept in place by men in matching dark uniforms—Enforcers. The gathered citizens cheered and waved flags, their voices blending into a steady roar of celebration. From every building, white banners bearing the emblem of the Holy Empire fluttered in the breeze. The hollow sun symbol—the shape of a prism that stretched its golden rays—was unmistakable. Below it, gilded text visible even in the muted daylight:
Duty – Honour – Faith
Michael's grip on the carriage's window frame tightened slightly. The sheer scale of the city, the presence of the Holy Empire's insignia on every street corner, and the sight of enforcers maintaining order—it all carried a weight that he wasn't sure he liked.
A thousand voices cheered in unison, the sound crashing over him like a relentless tide. Michael had never been fond of crowds, and this level of attention only made him feel anxious if anything.
"I thought I'd get to sightsee the city" He muttered, watching the waves of people chanting and throwing flower petals toward the convoy. "But it appears we are the attraction"
The words came out more bitter than he intended.
Sarah barely spared him a glance. "Can't be helped" She replied. "I didn't expect the entire expedition to be turned into this, but I should have guessed as much"
Unlike Michael, she seemed unbothered by the spectacle. If anything, she looked almost bored.
"The world of politics is strange like that" She continued, her tone carrying a touch of dry amusement. "We did nothing but kill a few monsters, yet the Empire will claim we stopped an entire invasion. It's all about image—appearances matter more than truth"
Michael exhaled slowly. That explained a lot.
From an outsider's perspective, the mission was a success. The Tatar had been eliminated, and the monster migration disrupting the region had been neutralized but the way these people were celebrating, one would think they had crushed an apocalyptic threat.
A child in the crowd waved excitedly in his direction, eyes filled with admiration. A woman clasped her hands in prayer as they passed, whispering something under her breath.
Michael tore his gaze away.
Sarah noticed his discomfort. "You should get used to this kind of treatment" She said, watching him carefully. "You are one of the summoned heroes, Michael. People who are spoken of in legends"
She leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other. "You are a symbol—of hope to the Empire, and of fear to its enemies"
Michael did not reply. He didn't particularly feel like a symbol of anything.
As the convoy left the bustling heart of Edenbrau behind, the cheers of the city gradually faded into silence. The cobblestone roads continued up to the winding mountain, flanked on both sides by towering evergreens. The further they ascended the quicker the city became swallowed by the mist curling between the trees.
Michael rested his chin against his hand, watching the scenery shift. It was strange—one moment they were parading through packed streets, the next they were climbing into the solitude of the imperial mountain. The contrast was jarring, yet it carried an undeniable weight, as if the land itself was reminding them that power did not dwell among common folk but stood high above, watching from afar.
Then, through the thinning trees, he saw it.
The imperial palace loomed ahead, carved on the mountainside like a monument to eternity. It's worth noting that it was not just a single building but rather an enormous complex of mansions and a variety of facilities. Normally most of them were left empty but not today.
Michael's attention was caught by an enormous number of carriages gathered in the courtyard. Dozens upon dozens—perhaps hundreds.
The vast courtyard stretched before the main palace, packed with elaborate carriages, each more extravagant than the last. Crest-bearing banners hung from some, marking noble houses and foreign delegations, while others gleamed with arcane embellishments.
Michael's fingers drummed against his knee. He had assumed their return would be marked with some ceremony, but this? This was more than a mere celebration.
He turned to Sarah, who regarded the scene with a mixture of understanding and faint irritation.
"How many people are here?" Michael muttered, watching as well-dressed figures descended from their carriages, escorted by attendants in royal garb.
Sarah scoffed lightly. "Too many"
Michael's gaze lingered on a group of men in flowing crimson robes, their attire decorated with golden embroidery. Another delegation wore armor polished to a mirror sheen, their stern expressions unshaken even amid the growing excitement of the crowd.
This wasn't just a gathering of nobles. This was an assembly of power—or rather a showcase of it.
Before he could voice the thought, the carriage slowed to a stop.
A footman opened the door, bowing low.
"Welcome back to the imperial palace, hero" He announced. "There will be a banquet that will occur in the evening so I implore you to make haste to your chambers. There are servants tasked with preparing your attendance"
Michael was less than happy to hear that. 'They are not going to give me even a day of rest, huh…'
***
Michael found himself leaning against a wall near one of the grand arched windows of the banquet hall, the dim glow of chandeliers casting long shadows across the polished floor. The servants had done a meticulous job dressing him—his attire, a deep royal blue, mirrored the color of his eyes, its fabric embroidered with subtle silver patterns that shimmered under the light. His dark hair, usually unkempt and forgotten, had been groomed to perfection, falling neatly into place with an elegance he was unaccustomed to.
For the first time, he truly looked the part of a noble—polished, refined, and every bit like a young master one might expect of aristocratic lineage. His normally unremarkable features had been elevated, sharpened by the contrast of his attire and the careful grooming. He noticed it in the way passing glances lingered just a second too long, in the whispered conversations that barely concealed curiosity.
It was a strange feeling—being observed not as an anomaly, not as a summoned warrior, but as someone who belonged. And yet, despite the fine fabric and polished appearance, Michael felt just as much an outsider as ever.
Michael exhaled heavily, his fingers tightening around the delicate stem of his champagne glass. He glanced down at the swirling liquid, his expression unreadable, but the restless motion of his hand betrayed the unease simmering beneath the surface. He had taken only a single sip, yet he found himself transfixed by the way the golden liquid crashed softly against the glass's edges, as if mirroring the turbulence within him.
'Strange… No one bothered me for a while'
This banquet had been organized to celebrate the heroes and their so-called victory, and though Michael had no intention of engaging in meaningless small talk, he hadn't exactly been given a choice. The hall teemed with powerful men and women, each draped in wealth and status, their eyes gleaming with veiled ambition. Many had already approached him, their conversations laced with careful flattery and unspoken agendas, all eager to forge ties with a summoned hero.
It had been exhausting.
Yet, over fifteen minutes had passed, and suddenly… silence.
No inquisitive nobles. No sycophantic politicians. No forced pleasantries.
A prickling sensation crept up his spine.
Michael lifted his gaze from his drink, intending to scan the room—but before he could, movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
Helga.
She was leaning against the wall just a few feet from him, arms crossed over her broad chest, exuding the quiet menace of a guard dog watching over a bone. Unlike the other noblewomen present, she wasn't adorned in elegant silks or flowing gowns. Instead, she wore a stiff, official military uniform—one that looked a size too small for her hulking frame. Every shift of her posture threatened to tear the taut fabric at the seams, the material straining to contain the sheer bulk of her muscle.
And she was just standing there, menacingly, for god knows how long.
Michael's gaze darted away the moment he registered her presence, his grip on the glass tightening instinctively. The rhythmic stirring of his drink became erratic, his movements slightly more hurried—until a single droplet of champagne tipped over the rim, splashing onto the floor.
"Child"
Helga's voice cut through the ambient hum of the banquet, flat and final. Then, without further elaboration, she turned on her foot and walked away, her heavy footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floor.
'She can talk!?'
Michael blinked, his grip on the glass slackening ever so slightly. Until now, she had been nothing but a silent, towering presence—a quiet giant whose mere existence deterred unwanted interactions. Yet, for some reason, she had chosen this moment to speak to him.
"Child…?" He echoed the word under his breath, tasting it as if it were something foreign. The idle movement of his hand stilled, his fingers frozen mid-motion. His lips parted slightly as he watched her broad back disappear into the crowd.
It wasn't an insult. Not exactly.
But for some reason, it stung more than any jeer or mockery would have. And the worst part? He couldn't even explain why.
Before he could linger on that thought any longer, a soft, melodic voice pulled him back to the present.
"Greetings, hero. My name is Eleanor"
Michael barely had time to react before a woman stepped into his view.
She was beautiful. Almost too beautiful.
A deep red dress clung to her figure, the fabric shimmering under the glow of the chandeliers. Rubies dangled from her ears, catching the light like embers trapped in crystals that perfectly matched her straight hair and more importantly, she appeared to be around his age—a rarity among the nobles who had approached him so far. Her attire was also noticeably more revealing compared to the others, an intentional display rather than mere extravagance.
He was instantly enchanted by her… face as she dipped into a slight bow to greet him, his attention locked onto her sharp yet delicate features.
Whatever Helga had said just moments ago—whatever strange, lingering weight her words had left on him—vanished in an instant.