Steel and Mana

Chapter 399 – Scouts

With a slightly stronger wind blowing from their backs, pushing them from south to north, five riders pressed forward into Markoth's territory. They were cloaked in layers of blackened, treated leather, their hoods pulled low and scarves covering all but their eyes. It was most useful when the sun was hiding or dipping below the horizon, but even now, at midday, it gave a false sense of security for them. They bore no flags and carried no colors, but for anyone sharper, they shouldn't need to. Just the way they were dressed told anyone around this part of the continent that they were from the Khulman Empire—as for what they were doing this far away? That was even more obvious.

It had been twenty-three days since they left on their scouting mission and fifteen since they crossed the southern ridge, entering the former Republic of Aymens, the country stuck between Markoth and Khulman. Previously, they were a kind of buffer zone between the two powers, a neutral ground of sorts.

Once, this had been a thriving land, full of scattered villages, minor lordships, and lush, golden wheat fields that swayed for miles on end. Now, it was just another graveyard. The riders did not speak as they passed unattended farmsteads and the remnants of watchtowers. Ruined towns were what greeted them, with no human life around. Anyone who once lived in this country escaped, running away from the tides when winter came... or died and got buried under the snow and beasts, their bones sinking into the ground.

Since then, those who survived have never returned. Why would they? It was now the land of beasts. It even had a new name: Dead Lands.

And yet... it was quiet.

“Too quiet,” Naran muttered, the youngest among them, as they rode through the skeletal remains of what had once been a border-crossing fort right between Markoth and Aymens. Its walls had been pulled down as if by enormous claws, but no beasts remained behind to make it into a nest or something.

They were entering Markoth now... and the fact that it was still... empty... was more frightening than encountering monsters.

“Silence is not safety,” Bakhi growled in answer. He was the commander of the small unit, an older man with one eye grey and blind, yet the other full of vigor and fiery light. “Keep your eyes open. No birds. No wolves. No insects even. If the animals do not return, the danger will still lurk around the land. That's what the wind tells us.”

“But there are no monsters,” Temuj whispered, riding second. “This far north, we should’ve seen nests. Burrows! At least some weak ones.”

Bakhi didn't answer... They all knew it. Even with their training and their preparations, it felt unnatural to ride this deep into former Markothan territory without encountering a single skirmish. There was no sign of movement. Where are the marks of the previous winter? There were no abhorrent beast tracks in the soil... Just wind, just it's howling, carrying silence.

By the seventh day, after passing the border, they finally came across their first clue. It was a shattered mine that had once been a den of those monstrosities. They could tell by the marks on the soul, the way the burrows were made... But then again, there were more unexplained clues. Scorch marks painted the landscape, deep gouges in the ground, and large areas of flattened terrain. Here and there, tufts of scorched fur or bone fragments larger than a man’s torso lay scattered. Something was doing a good job of killing them here... but what could be that powerful?

“Monsters fought monsters?” Naran offered again, almost hopeful. They didn't see it, but the theories suggested that it had to happen. Every animal was territorial...

“No,” Temuj muttered, off his horse, chewing on tobacco. He was crouching near a jagged furrow in the earth, his chewing intensifying as his fingers brushed the edge. “Look." He spat, "No signs of teeth or claws here. These are... cuts.”

“Blades?” Bakhi asked, "Claws?"

"Maybe." Temuj stood. “But not ones I've ever seen. And here,” he continued, pointing. “This crater. Something exploded from above. Not below. The indents show that something blows it apart from there,” he pointed towards the sky, "And not from below, not like when a mole comes to the surface."

“Magic? A flying beast?” Naran asked, shivering.

“Could be.” Bakhi scowled. “If it is a flying variant... the Gods have mercy on us all!”

The thought was horrifying. But... they couldn't just go back to their Kahn and report it. He would ask for more information, and they had to present it. So, after a bit of searching, they left. Only... Bakhi couldn't help but see the imprint of a massive alien footprint etched into the ground. It was heading north, just like they did... And he was afraid to meet whatever left it behind.

They were nearing the northern edge of Markoth now. What little map detail they had was incomplete. Who knows how it fared after this much time passing by, with this many winters? But, they should be nearing their old capital, whose name had long since been scrubbed out. It was, in everyone's eye, an already lost and destroyed city.

Yet, Bakhi's fear intensified as he could see the same massive footprints multiplying. Worse, they followed the trails of the unnatural battlefields, and they led them onward—always onward toward the old capital. The closer they drew to the mountains, the stranger it became.

They came across burned and destroyed nests with no monsters and no remains. There were only great gouges of disturbed earth or a massive circular field of melted ground and scarred, splintered stone that spread around them. And yet, there were no signs of any armies, human or otherwise. Nothing that made sense. If the monsters fought... where are the corpses? Why is it that they only find clues of battles but no remains? It didn't make sense.

Until, at last, on the ninth day since they entered Markoth—they saw it.

The capital city.

The one that should not have been standing.

It still had walls, some parts clearly newly reinforced. People were living here? They had to because they watched how smoke curled from chimneys behind the walls. More than that, flags flew on rooftops, flags of unknown colors and symbols. Witnessing the strangest scenery, one that was more shocking than the corpse-free battlefields, the scouts froze on their horses, standing atop a ridge overlooking the city basin.

“Impossible...” Naran whispered.

Markoth had survived? Incomprehensible.

“It’s not possible,” Temuj echoed. “No city could stand this long, not without a military presence. And we saw none! We heard of none! Markoth was consumed first!”

“Could be scavengers, rebuilding off the carcass,” offered one of the others, but even he knew that was nonsensical. Rebuilding? After every winter? Or what? They were at the mouth of the opening to the monsters' land. This place was ground zero... it was gone.

But it wasn't.

Bakhi said nothing for a long while. His gaze lingered on the people in the distance, trying to focus on the banners, trying to recall the colors and emblems, but... it was foreign. And there was something else… odd patterns in the city layout. The new towers that the people built did not match local designs. They stood out like a sore thumb.

“Observe only,” he ordered. “We get closer. Learn more. Stay out of sight.”

They descended, slow and cautious, into the brush, looping through the treeline near the base of the hill. Bakhi had full confidence in their concealment—every one of them had hunted beasts and men alike across broken plains and enemy borders. They were their empire's eyes, and they moved like smoke and wind. No sound, no scent, no trail.

And then... out of nowhere, a calm yet somewhat distorted, static voice.

“Stop right there!”

The Khulmans froze in unison. It was human speech, alright, but why did it sound... sound like death?

As an answer, five armored figures emerged from the trees. Their suits were blackened like coal, their frames massive, almost reaching up to them, even as they sat on horses. And their faces... those were hidden behind their skull-like helmets with intense, glowing red eyes glaring at them. Their hands were on weapons, colored like bones, ready to strike out at any moment. Even with their sizes... Bakhi never heard them coming, not until they announced themselves.

But there was at least one among them who looked more normal. At their center stood a young man, not older than seventeen, maybe eighteen. He had black hair and a sharp gaze. He didn't wear the same armor. His uniform was stranger, unlike the others, more ornate but not flamboyant... Still, it was the same blackened color, with some golden accent, and with a sword hanging from his hip. It was also not steel but something bone-white and curved, his hand resting on its hilt.

“We said,” the young man repeated, stepping forward, his voice not as distorted as the armored figures. "Identify yourselves. You are trespassing on protected territory. Markoth is under Avalonian control. State your origin and purpose.”

The scouts exchanged looks. What? Under whose control?

"..." Bakhi narrowed his eyes, new ideas forming in his mind. “Avalonian...?”

The name meant nothing... but that didn't mean it wasn't important. So... he dismounted slowly, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture. But his eyes never left the boy's figure. Assessing his posture, his clothes, his tone... even being so young, he was clearly in command. Which could mean a lot, but it told him that this boy had to be important. Or talented. Or both.

“We come from the Khulman Empire,” he said. “We are scouts. We believed this land was abandoned and were sent to check on the situation after the passing of winter. We did not expect to find... people.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” the boy replied with a half-smile. “But as you can see, things have changed drastically. And now you’ll report back, I assume."

"We are scouts. It is our job." Bakhi nodded, glancing at the other figures, trying to see if they were ready to move. But they weren't. They were just standing, watching, the glow in their eyes sometimes intensifying, sometimes dimming.

"Then, please tell your leaders that Markoth stands. And will remain standing. Although... From now on, it is under Avalonian protection. Consider the land of Markoth to be... reinstated and reclaimed.”

One of the masked soldiers took a step forward, and as he did so, the confidence in the Avalonian's stance was clear. They weren’t posturing. They weren’t surprised. They were trained and deadly; he could tell from just the way that soldier's body moved. No wasted movement... none at all.

"I am relieved to hear that, as this is good news for everyone." Bakhi gave a slow nod. “But... may we speak with your commanding officer?”

"Sure." The boy didn’t flinch, but his smile simply widened. “You’re speaking to him.”

Silence followed, and Bakhi was thankful for his subordinates' training, as none of them had interrupted yet, even though the boy's voice was a bit grating. Teetering on arrogant. But Bakhi didn't mind it, as he now learned that the young man was indeed someone with a position. That was already a good point.

"I meant someone with authority."

"Are you deaf, horserider?" one of the soldiers asked, his voice the same slightly static, distorted voice that stopped them on the first page. "Sergeant Lancelot had already told you he has the authority."

"I heard. But we are representatives of our Kahn." Bakhi nodded, not flinching or showing any fear, keeping his good eye on Lancelot. "In other words, we are emissaries of the 99th Son of the God Toobu."

"Pft." Lancelot chuckled, failing to hold it back, even as he quickly forced a neutral look, knowing he just offended them all, and how quickly all heads snapped to him.

"And we are the soldiers of Sovereign Leon." Another of the black armored soldiers answered, his tone filled with pride, clearly audible through his distorted voice, "I don't see the emissaries of a God slaying monsters," he continued, raising his saber that could clearly slash them in two, along with their horses. With a flick of his armored fingers on it, it lit up in flames for a brief second before calming down again, shocking the group. "So don't put yourselves on a pedestal, horseriders. Because we, the Sovereign's warriors... won't be intimidated by it."

"It's alright." The young man, named Lancelot, raised a hand, making the soldiers snap to attention. "They are not in the know. It is normal. Anyway... they are guests. Let us escort them into the city, then. There... we can talk after they've rested a little. Shall we?"

Bakhi watched as Lancelot stepped aside, arms moving, pointing towards the city. It was clear they were no longer allowed to leave. That opportunity had sailed—or maybe it was never there... but now he could not even bring it up as it was himself who gave up on it. On his own free will... tsk.

"Sure." Bakhi nodded, quickly rearranging his thoughts and going with the flow. "It will be an... Experience."

"Oh!" Lancelot chuckled, "You have no idea..."