Steel and Mana-Chapter 409 – Royal Duel (1)

After weeks of travel through the great Khulman steppe, the group was nearing their target. Pulling the curtain to the side of the carriage that was provided for him, Lancelot finally saw it emerging at the edge of the horizon: Dagar Khun.

As the column got closer and the city's buildings began to enlarge, it took him a moment to recognize the city’s actual scale. There were no actual walls surrounding it, something that Lancelot was very much used to. There were also not many tall buildings, either, and there were no massive towers or spires reaching towards the sky. In fact, half of the buildings looked like they were not made of stone either. The feeling that Lancelot got was that the city looked disconnected. Mobile even. It was as if the people living here could easily dismantle the whole city if needed and then move it somewhere else.

Sitting next to Pion, Lancelot said nothing at first. He simply took in the sight, comparing the emerging streets to his home and realizing that he had found it unsightly. It was not something he would mention or let be shown on his face, but he disliked how it looked. It was... chaotic. It was the opposite of Avalon's designed and clean look. It looked as if it lacked order.

Entering the city from the northern roads, the buildings they passed by did not look as sturdy as the buildings in Avalon, but they were formidable in a different way. What caught Lancelot’s attention more than their choice of materials was the decoration they had on almost every courtyard. Every inch of their gates was carved wood with gold-leaf symbols, stylized flames that surrounded horsehead sigils, and the symbols of Toobu, the god of war, were everywhere. They clearly did not hide their reverence and were only focused on one of the Gods.

"I just hope they are not as fanatical as the Theocracy," he said, making Pion chuckle and shake his head.

"Nothing can top the Cardinal and his people."

"True. But still..." Lancelot continued, sighing, watching as their group headed towards the heart of the city. "You never know."

He watched as, finally, an inner round wall made of actual stones came into view, sprouting flags and banners that were blood red and trimmed with gold.

The delegation dismounted just before the gate to the inner city. Khulman guards, holding heavy bows and massive scimitars, walked up to them silently. Their armor was the same lamellar-style one that Lancelot had gotten used to seeing. As he stepped out of the carriage and walked forward, so did Pion and his five men, making sure that they would not be separated from him. To their surprise, the guards present didn't complain about it, taking a good look at the tall, bulky frames of the Avalonians before forming a second circle around them.

It was then that the gates opened with a drawn groan, heavy timbers pushed by oxen and guardsmen, letting them enter the Kahn's Retreat—the city within a city.

They were welcomed by the envoy once more after they entered, but this one was a young man dressed in a golden half-robe.

"Welcome to Dagar Khun, the capital of the Khulman Empire, visitors from a distant land," the man said, bowing, his voice surprisingly high and... feminine. It suddenly made Lancelot think of the attachés that the Cardinal was surrounding himself with, and Yuri mentioning how he had to love stuffing them from behind. If not for his training, he was sure he would have made a noticeable reaction. "You will follow me through the Warrior’s Gate. All warriors who seek audience with the Kahn enter by this road."

"Of course," Lancelot gave a curt nod, waving away his stray thoughts, wishing he had the same armor as Pion so he could react honestly behind their sealed masks, probably having a conversation right now by the rapid blinking of their red eyes. “Lead the way.”

As they entered deeper, to his surprise, the inner city greeted them not with silence but with constant sounds of an actually active neighborhood. Wind chimes made of silver and gold clinked softly overhead, most open entrances to houses, and they were also hung from every archway and wooden eaves. Market criers called out wares, just like back home, while the air was filled with the aroma of grilled meat and freshly baked sweets.

The people he saw moved with a warrior's grace, stepping aside where their envoy led them without breaking their own rhythm of walking. It was enough to tell him that the people here were all warriors, good ones at that. This place was probably not only the home of their ruler but also the city directly built for his personal warriors and their families.

While walking, a woman selling lamb skewers locked eyes with Lancelot. Her fingers never paused as she carved meat with a curved knife. She was visibly curious yet continued to work without having to look at what her hands were doing. Thanks to the teaching of his mother, Lancelot picked up the mastery behind it, realizing that she wasn't just a merchant but probably also a trained fighter... or assassin. Probably the latter.

"You have a very interesting city," he said softly, making the envoy smile. Looking back over his shoulder, he examined Lancelot's face before answering, his smile widening a little.

"Thank you. The Kahn will be overjoyed to hear such a compliment."

"I will make sure to repeat it then." Lancelot nodded, adding in his head that he may also tell him that he needs to redesign the streets.

The layout confused Lancelot at first, mainly because it was even more chaotic than the outer layer they first passed through. Here, the city followed the natural terrain as the roads curved around banks in the earth, stepping upward along sloped ridges. The actual homes were circular, like yurts, but made from stone and painted with white lime, red clay, and a mouth-watering amount of gold lacquer put around the entrances and windows.

After a few minutes of walking, he saw a group of children run barefoot past a blacksmith's shop, their laughter unrestrained until they noticed their group approaching. One boy, no older than ten, skidded to a halt in front of Pion, staring up at his skull-faced helmet. Most of the others' first reaction was usually fearful... but here, the boy simply grinned, unafraid, and dashed away, his friends calling for him, making Lancelot realize they were in the middle of training, running errands, and building their stamina from a young age.

"You start training early, I see," Lancelot spoke again, the answer coming swiftly.

"Of course," the envoy hummed proudly. "Every child of a warrior is born to follow in their parents' footsteps. It has been this way for more than a millennium, and it will continue in the future."

"What if they don't want to?"

"..." Lancelot's question visibly shook the envoy, making his steps falter, but he recovered quickly, answering in a somewhat disbelieving voice. "That never happens."

"I see."

There was no reason to push it, so instead of sparking an argument, he turned his attention back to the surroundings. He saw no fountains, no aqueducts—instead, he saw canals, narrow and flowing, built low into the ground with polished stones and rope bridges crossing over them. What he gathered was that they were getting the water from underground, which made sense, as there were no tall mountains around here at all.

Finally, after about ten minutes of walking, they passed under another archway, and suddenly, everything changed. The plaque hanging over it told him that this was the Golden Quarter, the home of the Kahn, and it showed.

The air shimmered faintly from heat, while the ground was paved with stone tiles inlaid with bronze decorations. The designs underfoot, wherever they walked, depicted Khulman horsemen riding down faceless enemies. The buildings were fewer but taller, their rooftops, once again, gilded, and their wooden beams carved with scenes of war and conquest. Around the main road, massive bronze braziers burned incense, and guards in bone-white armor trimmed with golden threads stood at every intersection. Their bodies were ramrod straight under their feathered helmets, and their eyes never left the Avalonians as they passed by them.

"We have arrived." Their envoy stopped before the main building of the inner city and turned towards them, his gaze lingering on Lancelot’s sword for a moment.

"Should we disarm?" When Lancelot asked, the man simply chuckled.

“The Kahn enjoys boldness. But he enjoys victory more. But I do request that your companions remove their helmets.”

For a moment, Lancelot only looked at the envoy's eyes, watching his clear gaze before nodding. Without needing to turn around, all his guards reached up, pulling off their helmets and affixing them to their belts. Their expressions remained cold and unbothered as the young man examined them one by one.

"Thank you. Now... let's head in."

The palace itself wasn’t tall or wide. But it was dense.

The structure sat low and squat, like a fortress built first and then pressed into the ground. Its walls were made of black stone, while golden veins were still running around on its surface. Its steps were flanked by statues of ancient warriors wearing the same perfectly carved gauntlets. It wasn't hard to realize they were depictions of previous, probably famous Kahns, wearing the Gauntlets of War, the artifact from the God of War himself.

Reaching the top of the stairs, an elderly court official approached them and took over the young boy's escorting duty.

“You will be presented shortly before the Kahn,” he said in a matter-of-fact, no-nonsense voice. “I will take you to the eastern wing, where you can refresh yourselves before heading in.”

While speaking, he escorted them into a receiving hall with high windows and prepared bowls of clean water and towels, which they would use to wash off the dirt from their long travels.

"I won't say no to that," Lancelot mumbled, taking up the opportunity to refresh his face a little.

"Be careful, though." Pion stood at his side. "It can be... tampered water."

"That would be, as my mother would say, a retarded move." He whispered back, washing his face and reaching for the towel.

Their older envoy, seeing they were finished, didn't waste any more time before leading them into the main chamber.

Tula-Kahn Rhanak was exactly as Bakhi had described. At first glance, he appeared a bit aged, with lines etched into his face. His long, tied beard was streaked with a few grays and bound in heavy braids clasped by bones, and his armor was not ceremonial but battle-worn.

Sitting on his throne, one of his hands rested lightly atop a scimitar laid across his lap, stroking its edge while watching Lancelot and the rest enter his home. Yet, the more interesting part was that his other hand hovered close to the relic at his right, resting on a pedestal—the Gauntlets of War.

Walking forward, the room did not echo under their steps. The floor was covered in tightly woven furs and rugs, dampening every footfall as Lancelot pulled himself to his full height, discarding any unnecessary thoughts and only looking at the Kahn before him. In turn, the Kahn said nothing as they approached, nor did the circle of elders and commanders seated along the rim of the chamber, their eyes fixed on the newcomers, reading their moves silently. Only when Lancelot reached the last step did Kahn finally open his mouth to speak.

"You are smaller than I imagined, Envoy from this place called Avalon."

The voice was dry, and his words were clearly a jest, yet not really. His eyes flicked to Pion and the rest, visibly pleased with how the soldiers guarding Lancelot looked. Unbothered by the comment, Lancelot simply smiled while answering.

"Perhaps. But then, many things appear small from far away. Until they are standing before you, at drawing distance."

That earned a few low murmurs from the seated commanders, but none of them interjected, not when their Kahn was speaking. Listening to his words, Rhanak’s expression didn’t change, but he studied Lancelot longer this time.

"You speak well," the Kahn said after a moment, finally smiling. "And you carry yourself like one who had seen battle. But your eyes tell me that you are yet to shed actual blood. Your hands are yet to take life."

"The focus should be on the word... Yet." Lancelot replied simply. "As for not seeing war... I think that is untrue, Tula-Kahn."

"No, you are wrong." Rhanak smacked his mouth, tilting his head. "Seeing a battle from afar is one thing. Living it through from the front is another. You have yet to fight, unlike your guards. You will understand when you finally step through the cleansing fire of war. Don't be mistaken, Son of Avalon, I am not condemning you. I am just stating the facts my eyes see. Still, you fought Commander Vekhon," the Kahn continued, glancing toward the aging officer seated among his peers, the one who brought the news to him. "And he vouched for you, which is rare. He speaks of a clean fight in his report. No dishonor. That matters here."

Lancelot gave a short nod respectfully.

"It was just a friendly spar. He fought well and held back while I learned a lot from it."

"Yes... Learning from sparring is a good method." The Kahn repeated, suddenly moving, putting the saber out of his lap and standing up. Now, at his full height, they had to realize the Kahn was as tall as Pion or any of the Avalonian soldiers. "You represent Avalon, your home, in its fullest, yes?"

"Yes," Lancelot answered without hesitation, watching as the Kahn reached out and lifted the gauntlets from the pedestal, slowly affixing them onto his arms.

"Good. Then, as an envoy of this unknown land, show me its power. Fight... or be sent home until someone worthy comes to speak with the 99th Son of God Toobu!"