Chapter 136

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The desert seemed the best place to admire the stars. Even above the fields of Heiden, they had never filled the sky with such brilliance.

Gazing up at the desert’s radiant night sky, Ricard thought that true beauty bloomed in the harshest, most difficult places.

Ricard and Hashim walked with the reins of two horses apiece in hand. As they followed Auku, their eyes kept straying to the majestic panorama of time, space, and the universe.

The travelers were deeply moved by the wonders the desert offered, but Auku seemed accustomed to it all. The boy skipped playfully along.

A view one person might treasure above anything else in the world was simply part of everyday life to another.

“This way, you two! Hurry up!” Auku called from ahead.

They followed the boy over a ridge, and there were stars blooming on the ground as well. For a moment, Ricard was speechless at the indescribably beautiful sight.

Incredibly, there was grassland in the middle of the desert, with a forest of cacti stretching across it, some taller than a person, others shorter.

On each cactus bloomed a single flower, glimmering like soft moonlight. The wonders of nature and life were truly moving.

Ricard and Hashim approached a cactus and took a close look at what Auku had called a crystal flower. The night was rather chilly, but the air around the flower felt especially cold.

“When heroes die, they become stars in the sky. Ordinary people become crystal flowers. Each of these flowers is the soul of someone who’s died. So you mustn’t handle them carelessly, or pick too many. You’ll be punished if you do, you know?”

Apparently, the Azur tribe believed these flowers were the souls of the dead. Or perhaps that was the truth. The crystal flowers were that soft, that beautiful, and that eerie.

“Pick one each, and think of someone who’s died while you do it. That person will protect you while you pick the flower.”

Ricard glanced at Hashim, who was gazing at the flowers in fascination, then asked Auku, “How do you recover lost memories?”

“Chop up the flower, burn it, and breathe in the smoke. If you want to meet the dead, boil it down and drink it. But there’s no guarantee you’ll meet the person you want to see.”

Ricard did not know how much of that to believe, but the very existence of these crystal flowers was hard to believe even with them before his eyes.

He lowered his head and quietly thought for a while, then recalled his mother smiling at him in the sunlight streaming through a window. Holding that memory in mind, he carefully plucked a flower.

He had no particular need for one. He had simply taken it because Auku had said they could each pick one.

It really felt more like crystal than a living flower, and it was as cold as ice. He quickly put it in his pack.

When he looked back at Hashim, the man was still staring at a flower. Ricard could not tell whether he was hesitating over something or merely thinking of the dead.

He said nothing and did not hurry him. He simply waited.

At last, as though he had made up his mind, Hashim plucked a flower.

“Cold. Like a corpse that’s lost its warmth,” he said. Ricard opened a pocket on his pack and held it out, and Hashim put his flower inside too.

“Let’s go,” their young guide said once he had watched each of them pick a flower.

Ricard and Hashim took up the reins again and walked through the desert night, following the boy, with the stars for company.

The place was not far from the oasis at all. Rocky mountains rose high above them. They were red sandstone, though the darkness hid the beauty of their color.

A winding path ran between the mountains, carved by water in the distant past, or perhaps by the wind.

There was ample room for people and horses to pass, but against the immense rocky heights, it looked like little more than a narrow crack.

As they made their way along that winding path, a magnificent structure emerged in the moonlight.

It had been carved and shaped directly from the rock. Its subtly curving columns and sculptures were impossibly intricate. Each delicate detail contributed to its grandeur; the work of human hands was no less wondrous than nature.

“Here it is. The emperor’s tomb,” Auku said.

But even without his explanation, the sight made it clear. Only the most exalted person in the world could have been buried in such a place.

Ricard took a torch from his saddle and lit it. As he approached the emperor’s mausoleum, he found an inscription in the ancient tongue on a stone tablet by the entrance.

Fortunately, he had learned the ancient script and could read it.

<One God, one Empire, one Emperor.

Lord of August, King of Kings, possessor of the broadest lands, he who has seen the ends of east and west, south and north, master of war, ever victorious, leader of men, the one and only, the most august.

Disturb not the eternal rest of Augustus Actobus Caesar.>

The inscription stirred a mixture of emotions in Ricard: the realization that someone in the distant past had accomplished feats he could scarcely imagine, a sense of solemnity, and the transience of all things with the passage of time.

Once, the entire Franken Empire and the empire of the Salaman people had lain at one man’s feet. The sheer vastness of it, and the overwhelming ability of the man who had achieved it, humbled him.

And so he entered the mausoleum, drawn less by the desire to claim some treasure than by curiosity to see what lay inside.

But there was only a spacious square chamber, with broken earthenware scattered in a corner.

The mausoleum’s layout was not particularly complicated. A doorway on each of three sides led to another room. When he looked to the left and right, he saw nothing but bones.

Grave robbers calling themselves adventurers must have carried everything off long ago. Nothing worth taking remained.

Through the central doorway, he found a stone coffin at the top of twelve steps. Torch in hand, Ricard climbed slowly, one step at a time, until he reached it.

As expected, the lid was already open, and even the remains were gone.

Still, the lid was no plain slab. It seemed to have been carved with Emperor Caesar’s likeness in life, making the coffin itself a valuable relic. It was the only thing in the mausoleum that seemed to hold any significance.

There was an inscription on the coffin as well. Ricard bent down, held his torch close, and read it carefully.

<It is a warrior’s fate to see a fine sword break and lose a good horse. Yet a true warrior fights to the end, so long as breath remains. Thus a hero does not choose where to be buried. One who can be buried anywhere in the world is a hero.

Here lie heroes. To be buried alongside them is my greatest honor.>

Though the treasures were gone, and even the remains had vanished, that spirit stood proud. Ricard felt genuine admiration.

To honor that spirit, he offered the crystal flower—the only flower he had—as a funeral tribute. He laid it gently inside the empty coffin and spoke.

“Forgive the intrusion my curiosity has caused. Though your treasures are lost, and even the remains of your mortal body are gone, your spirit will live on in memory. I will remember you, Emperor Caesar.”

Ricard closed his eyes and bowed his head, paying his respects in his own way. The crystal flower in the coffin softly dissolved, like melting snow.

Then a footstep sounded some distance behind him, echoing loudly through the vast chamber.

TAP...

Ricard turned. Auku and Hashim were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a figure stood there, covered from head to foot like a monk, a hood hiding his entire face.

He stood silently watching Ricard, each hand tucked into the opposite sleeve, then turned and walked outside. Ricard followed him.

The mysterious man left the mausoleum and walked through the gorge. Ricard nearly lost sight of him along the winding path, but by walking quickly and breaking into short runs, he managed to follow him all the way.

At last, the man stopped. Not far from the mausoleum, the rock face was riddled with holes like a honeycomb.

They had clearly been carved by human hands. People might have lived there long ago, or perhaps this, too, was a burial place.

The man climbed the rocky slope and entered one of the caves. When Ricard hurried in after him, he found him standing motionless inside, waiting.

“Where does your path lead, stranger?”

The voice came from beneath the pitch-black shadow of the hood, which concealed every trace of his face. It was deep and solemn.

“I am on my way to the headquarters of the Order of Flame.”

“No. I mean the path beyond that.”

The path beyond that? Ricard was a little bewildered, but soon understood. The man was asking what sort of life he intended to lead.

“There is something I must do. Save the people whose lives have been ravaged by war.”

“Why? Why must you be the one to do it?”

“I cannot say for certain. But I grew up in a good family. I was raised with love and care. That is a treasure more precious to me than anything else. Yet so many people in this world have never had it. Is that their fault? And on top of that, war destroys their homes, kills their families, and leaves pain and sorrow to devour them. I mean to fight against that pain and sorrow. That is all.”

“I see... Then you have been free of a sovereign’s fate from the very beginning.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is a sovereign’s fate to lose soldiers, cities, subjects, and power. Fathers and sons seek to kill one another, and a man wears a crown stained with his brothers’ blood. That is the path a sovereign walks, and must walk. But you have never had any interest in such things. You already possess the most precious treasure of all.”

“I believe someone who grew up loved already has everything. Even power is nothing beside it. That is what I think, and what I firmly believe.”

“But remember this, you who seize Lightning and wield it as a weapon. Human history has repeated itself since the dawn of time. Do not let sorrow and pain bring you to ruin. Never forget that your true weapons are not Lightning, but love and hope.”

As he spoke, he withdrew a hand from his sleeve and pointed to one side. His hand was nothing but bare bones.

“May this protect your pure heart.”

Ricard turned in the direction he indicated. There was only a sandstone wall. Puzzled, he looked back at the stranger, but the man had vanished as though he had never been there.

Bewildered, Ricard approached the wall the man had pointed to, just in case. He ran his hands over it, feeling along its surface, but found nothing unusual.

But when he made a fist and tapped it lightly, there was a hollow sound.

TOK, TOK.

There was empty space behind the wall.

Ricard struck it harder. It crumbled like dry clay. Sensing something inside, he tore away at it with his hands. Beyond the wall sat a lone suit of armor, which had waited untold ages for its owner.

He picked it up and pulled it out. It was armor in the style of the ancient Empire, sculpted with chest and abdominal muscles, and a fire-breathing dragon across the chest. In the torchlight, it shone a reddish gold.

Despite the long years, it had gathered only a little dust. There was no rust. It felt like metal, yet it was light. A weapon needed a certain heft, but the lighter the armor, the better.

“Riki! Riki! Hey! Rickyyy!”

“Mr. Riki! Where did you go? Mr. Rickyyyy!”

Hashim and Auku’s urgent shouts reached him from outside. Ricard hurried out of the cave.

Hashim and Auku were looking all around for him when they spotted him. Auku’s eyes widened, and he shouted with a radiant smile.

“You defeated the demon and found the treasure!”

He ran over so fast he almost seemed to fly. Ricard was baffled.

Hashim hurried over as well.

“I thought the emperor’s ghost had dragged you off to the next world.”

“I thought you could do it, Mr. Riki!”

Hashim and Auku greeted Ricard with relief and delight respectively. Still bewildered, he merely turned to look back at the cave. There truly was no one there.

“I do think I met the emperor.”

“Then you’re the rightful heir to the old Empire. Augustus Ricard, is it? You win, Riki.”

Ricard and Hashim had often bickered over which of their peoples had inherited the old Empire’s legitimacy. Hashim was making light of it now.

Not that their arguments had ever been heated in the first place. What did it matter who the heir was? It did not matter if neither of them was.

“That’s not what happened.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe. This reckless little fellow nearly took us all to the underworld.”

“But I told you, I was sure Mr. Riki could do it!”

“You Azur people are only half honest, and utterly reckless.”

“We’re brave. Anyway, you found the treasure, so I kept my promise, right?”

“Yes.”

“What is this, anyway? It looks like a relic of the old Empire. Is it made of gold?”

“I don’t think so. It’s far too light for gold.”

“Then it can’t be brass either. If you mean to sell it, we’ll have to find out what it’s made of first. Isn’t it a little too ornate to wear yourself?”

“I can cover it with a surcoat or something.”

“Try it on.”

It had no shoulder pieces, arm guards, greaves, or anything of the sort, only a single solid piece protecting the torso, so putting it on was easy enough. Ricard stretched his arms overhead and bent forward while Hashim slipped it over him.

It fit him so perfectly that it seemed impossible. He could have armor for the rest of his body made separately. This looked as though it would provide ample protection for his torso, front and back.

When Ricard was wearing the emperor’s armor, Auku grinned and playfully punched it with his tiny fists.

“Wow! It’s so strong! Is this the emperor’s armor? Does that mean you’re the emperor now, Mr. Riki?”

Ricard stroked the boy’s short, tightly curled, stiff hair.

“No.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m Riki. That’s all.”

“Aw... That’s no fun.”

“Can’t help that. But I’m sure there’ll be some fun moments in life.”

“That’s true. Shall we rest here a little before we leave?”

“Let’s do that.”

Ricard, Hashim, and Auku returned to where they had tethered their horses and lit a fire beneath a rock.

Surrounded by nature’s wonders, the three spent the night where the proud spirits of ancient heroes lived on. Now Ricard understood why there were so many stars in the night sky. They had all become stars.

As dawn broke, they woke and set off west again. When they emerged from the rocky mountains, the day gradually began to grow hot, as though the sun were glaring wide-eyed at the world.

Still, following their young guide made the journey manageable. Along the way, there were places where the shade lingered. They cut open cacti to drink their sap and let boiled water cool before drinking it.

After two full days of walking, a week and three days after the shipwreck, they reached a sultanate called Tujis.

Grass grew here. Goats grazed idly in fields of short grass and olive trees.

To their right, they could see the blue sea in the distance. White gulls flew like tiny specks, and the sea breeze seemed to carry news from faraway lands.

Across that sea to the northeast lay the southernmost tip of the Empire, almost within reach. The continent where Ricard had been born and raised was no longer far away.

He did not know how the shipwreck had taken him so far east, but after passing through the holy city and the Sultanate of Mayub, and even crossing the desert, he had finally reached a place not far from the Order of Flame’s headquarters.

“Well, I’ll be off now. Don’t go getting lost in the desert again. All right?”

Standing in the green fields with the cool breeze blowing over him, Auku spoke cheerfully. There was no smile in the world more refreshing than his.

They had known each other for only three days, yet Ricard was sad to part with him. He was also a little worried.

“Don’t trust the Steel People and the Gold People too much. They aren’t all like us.”

“I know that much. But someone who carries his animals’ burdens for them can’t be a bad person, can he?”

Auku, too, had watched Ricard and Hashim from a distance and approached only after deciding they seemed safe enough. He had not come up to them without any caution at all.

“Well, I suppose the desert will protect you.”

“And this armor will protect you, Mr. Riki. The red horse will take you anywhere in the world. That steel sword will cut through anything. And Mr. Hashim is wise, so he’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

“There’s a great deal I don’t know either, Auku.”

“Anyway, you’ll have to find your own path from here. Goodbye!”

Auku turned and ran back into the desert. Ricard and Hashim stood watching the boy recede into the distance. He looked back and waved again and again.

At last, far away, he vanished beyond the shimmering heat haze.

“Perhaps that child’s innocence is a treasure. Perhaps only by living in the harshest of places can such purity be preserved. The world we live in cannot protect it. Let’s go,” Hashim said, mounting his horse.

From here on, they could ride for stretches of the journey.

Ricard mounted the red horse as well. Reflecting on the words of the greatest emperor, and thinking of the boy they had just parted with, he headed toward a place where Salaman and Franken people lived side by side with those of mixed heritage.

Toward a place where two civilizations intersected—or collided.