34 A Triumphant Return (1/2)
”No one's coming, boss.”
Despite his warrior's shout, Corco remained motionless, his arms still rested on the railing of their ship. With a sigh, he stared at the worn-down letter in his hands, the one he had received some six months ago. His father, Emperor Titu Pluritac of the Medala Empire, was dead. That's what the letter's mysterious author had told him.
Although Corco had planned his return from overseas long ago, it wasn't supposed to be like this. In truth, he had wanted to show off, to take all those achievements from the past seven years and throw them into the old man's face. Even though he knew that it was petty, and that he had better things to do, the prince still wanted to show the emperor that he had been wrong. Corco realized that he was being unfair to a father who had always tried his best. That he had far more important, far grander goals to accomplish back home. Still, he could not shake off the notion that his perfect return had been ruined. The blemish made him uneasy about things to come.
”Laqhis.”
The warrior's second call ripped Corco out of his thoughts. At last he looked up from the letter and focused on the dilapidated little harbor they had moored to. After a few seconds, his gaze went back up, to the man who had tried to gain his attention. A high head on top of wide shoulders, an honest looking, rectangular face and arms like logs. His companion looked like the personification of the dim, gentle giant stereotype.
”No one's coming,” the tall man repeated.
”It isn't 'boss'. You should use 'lord', or 'master' maybe. And no more nicknames, Fadelio. Etiquette didn't matter until now, but a warrior who talks to his lord without 'respect' will always find some old bats ready to impeach him. I'd rather not see you lose your head over a name.”
”...Master Corco, no one is coming.”
His eyes once again focused on the picturesque fishing village before him, Corco nodded his head.
”Yeah, seems like the local lord wants to prepare fully before he welcomes us home.”
”Master Corco, the messenger we've sent hasn't been back yet.”
”To do it right, you know? With all honors.”
”Master Corco, it has been three hours,” Fadelio's tense voice urged.
A deep sigh escaped Corco's throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't just joke reality away.
”You and Atau should go prepare the landing then. And show some energy. It's our first steps into our great empire. Gotta look good.”
Corco's eyes followed Fadelio as he put down the visor of his heavy plate armor and walked down the plank. In his march, he was accompanied by another figure, smaller in stature but also dressed in the distinct armor of the foreign knights of Arcavia. As further reinforcements, six mercenaries in chain mail and leather followed along. Once more on solid ground, the men lined up in two rows of honor and raised the banner of Medala's imperial family: A silver triquetra on blue. His entrance prepared, Corco finally strode onto his homeland once more. His head raised in majesty, the king observed his ancestral lands, the ones he would soon come to rule himself, just like his father had done.
With great care, the crown prince took in the run down wooden pier they had landed on, the old-familiar row of oblong wooden houses on stilts and, in the distance, the old cobbled castle atop Ceros Hill. While the prince was focused on the lord's manor in the distance, some fishermen to the side had interrupted their work on the nets, instead deciding to stare at the spectacle before them with skeptical looks. Under a barrage of obscene curses, a dog ran away with the lunch it had taken from a beggar, just as the man had been distracted by the landing party. The wind blew cold. No one else noticed the return of the crown prince and rightful heir to the Medala Empire.
”The populace seems unimpressed, Prince Corco,” the shorter of the two knights chimed in.
”They are clearly awed into silence,” answered the mercenary's employer, unperturbed. ”Dedrick, you stay behind and secure the area around the ships or a landing. Fadelio follows me. We're going shopping.”
”Shopping, Master?” the man mountain asked with a dull face.
Corco looked down the straight main road, towards the inner city gate which waited at its end and signified an insurmountable gap for most people on the other side.
”...we're headed towards the castle. Let's survey the town.”
After Corco and his company had left behind the dreary shantytown which surrounded the harbor, the town of Porcero began to present a somewhat livelier look. Underneath the overhangs of the plain wood houses and throughout the cobbled main road, a young boy chased after his friends in play. They passed by the strange visitors without taking notice.
A few houses down, a fisherman from the harbor tried to sell his wares to a businessman. Despite the simple green wool robes worn by the potential buyer, he was a very rich man, as evidenced by the restaurant which formed the backdrop for their haggling. All windows of the airy three story stone construction were covered with paper, a sign that the owner didn't mind splurging wherever he could.
Up above, the construction was topped off with one of the rounded roofs which had been so familiar to Corco in his youth. Further along, a young, stout woman was leading her servant into the chaotic side roads and towards the common market near the harbor. Unlike the previous merchant, her own wealth and status could be seen right away from her solid silver necklace and the thick silk cord around her white, flowing dress.
Despite the size of their armed group, dressed in the armors, pants and vests of the east, none of the townsfolk showed any special reaction towards Corco. However, all of these familiar sights and sounds evoked so much feeling inside the prince, so much longing he hadn't been aware of that he failed to even notice. Only when he found something incongruous with the familiar picture did he regain his senses. In the front yard of a tea house, two old scholars with long, neat beards and white robes played a board game, while their young disciple observed from the side.
”Who dares!”
No matter how unusual the scholars were in a town like Porcero, the strange new faces only held Corco's interest for a moment, before a shout demanded all the attention for itself. Once the call was followed by the sound of shuffling feet and clangs of metal, the prince turned away from the chess players, over to his own men. Over there, a warrior in full armament had fallen victim to Fadelio's strength. The young man wore lamellar armor over a long, red tunic with an ax and small shield by his side, typical for a member of his social class. Held to the ground by Fadelio's ludicrous strength, the youngster still flailed about, his long, tied hair and silver earrings dancing in the dirty street.
Although Corco was about to have the warrior released, not interested in what sort of minor issue had caused the fight, the warrior was very much up to the fight.
”Unhand me barbarian! Or feel the wrath of House Petrocilius!”
Despite his best efforts, the young warrior in red failed to get back up off the ground. After all, how could a simple warrior stand up to Fadelio, the son of a great general?
”For heaven's sake, don't rough up our people five minutes off the boat. Please let him go.”
Determined to make a good first impression on his people, Corco jumped in to save the warrior. Now that he looked at him, the warrior seemed more like a kid, certainly not a fully grown man. Meanwhile, the child soldier himself seemed baffled at Corco's words.
”Yakua? Who are you?”
Of course the warrior wouldn't understand how a group who looked so much like outsiders could speak his own language so well, so Corco returned a nod, before he began to play with the silver emblem around his neck.
”Look closely, friend, and see the truth.”
At last the warrior's eyes went first towards Corco's face, and then down, to the prince's pendant.
”That's the triquetra! You are...”
”My name is Crown Prince Corcopaca Titu Pluritac and I have come home to lead our people onto the path to glory.”
Self-satisfied, Corco could finally release the words which had been stuck on the tip of his tongue since he left that boat. However, after all the indifference from before, the prince was still shocked by the warrior's sudden enthusiasm.
”Prince Corco, if it truly is your honorable self who has returned from exile, then there may be hope yet. But the matters in Medala are not as prince would suspect. Prince Corco has been declared dead just weeks ago and House Pluritac has begun to gift away the achievements of our ancestors to foreign barbarians... not dissimilar to the men in prince's company,” the young man finished with a suspicious look towards Corco's guard. However, the prince himself had no time to worry about the warrior's slight, so he preempted their outrage with his own.
”Dead?! Wait, wait, wait...wait.” Corco squinted his eyes and intently stared at nothing, while he tried to make sense of the new information. Progress was slow.
”Prince...” the warrior tried again.
”Wait!... I don't understand a word. I'm quite sure that my departure was framed as a trip to study abroad, at least officially. I haven't been exiled, pretty much ever. Not only was I never exiled, I am also very much alive, at least as far as I can tell. And how exactly could my family give away what they don't own? Can you just change the laws if you're shameless enough? There is a limit to shamelessness, right? What the fuck is going on here?”
”Prince Corco, it may be unwise to speak here. However, as you are the rightful heir to the silver crown, it would be this young master's honor to invite Prince to the Petrocilius Estate inside Porcero. Primus Vitus Petrocilius apologizes for his late greeting. Any questions Prince Corco may have should wait until then.”
After his abrupt introduction, Primus gave a short sideways glance to the scholars or their board game, before he marched off in the opposite direction of his original route, back towards the castle. Meanwhile, Corco was too busy with his own thoughts to acknowledge the young master of the noble House Petrocilius any further. There was much information to chew through, and many things to reconsider.
”Master, what shall we do?”
In response to Fadelio's question, Corco gave the still unfazed scholars a closer inspection. Even though all the passers-by who had previously ignored Corco's group had halted and began to stare, now aware of their identity, the scholars still seemed deeply immersed in their game. Unnatural, considering all the excitement the front of their little play area had just witnessed. However, unlike his elders, their young apprentice gave a nervous glance before he hastily zeroed in on the board as well. Back in the capital, seven years ago, the crown prince had seen the scholars, men devoted to spread the knowledge and culture of the western Chutwa Empire. Though seven years ago, these scholars would never have gone to a far off place like Porcero.