CHAPTER 203: GOING INTO THE SOLARI EMPIRE (3)

On the tenth day, they arrived at the border.

The town was called "Last Light." It was a grim, wind-swept settlement, the final outpost of the Korvan Kingdom before the vast, untamed wilderness that led to the next nation. The buildings were made of rough stone, built to withstand the harsh winds that blew down from the mountains.

"This is it," Riku announced as they pulled the carriages to a halt in front of the town’s single, dingy inn. "The last stop in the kingdom."

They took rooms at the inn. The innkeeper was a grizzled man with a suspicious eye, but he accepted their coin without question.

That evening, they all gathered in the common room. It was a smoky, noisy place, filled with grizzled travelers, nervous merchants, and a few weary-looking border guards.

"Alright," Riku said, his voice low. "We cross the border tomorrow. But we’re going in blind. We know nothing about the kingdom of Eldoria to the east."

He looked at each of them. "We need information. What is their government like? What is their attitude towards outsiders? Towards magic?"

"I can talk to the guards," Lila offered. "They’ll know about any recent border skirmishes or monster sightings. A friendly face can get them talking."

"And I," Sherry said with a thin smile, "will talk to the less... reputable patrons. The ones in the corners. Smugglers and spies always have the most interesting stories."

Lysaria nodded. "Elara and I will stroll around and listen. Sometimes, the most valuable information is the kind you overhear when no one thinks you are paying attention."

"Good," Riku said, a sense of pride in his voice. "Let’s see what this town can teach us."

The group dispersed into the smoky common room. Each of them moved with a quiet, determined purpose.

Lila made her way to a table where a few off-duty border guards were complaining about their pay over a game of cards. She offered them a bright, disarming smile. Sherry melted into the darker corners of the room, her eyes scanning for the tell-tale signs of smugglers and spies. Lysaria and Elara took a quiet table near the hearth, their ears open, their presence unassuming.

Riku was left alone at their table. He watched his team work for a moment, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. Then, he stood and made his way to the bar.

The innkeeper was a grizzled man with a network of scars on his face and a single, milky-white eye. He was wiping a dirty tankard with an even dirtier rag. He grunted as Riku approached, not even looking up.

"Need another room?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"No," Riku said. "I need information."

The innkeeper stopped wiping the tankard. He slowly looked up. His good eye was sharp and suspicious. "Information costs."

Riku placed a single, heavy gold coin on the scarred wooden bar. It gleamed in the dim light. "I’m a generous customer."

The innkeeper’s good eye widened slightly. He looked at the coin. Then he looked at Riku’s simple, clean clothes. He looked at the four young women who had come in with him. He was a man who had seen a thousand travelers pass through this border town. He knew the difference between a common adventurer and someone with real power.

He pocketed the coin with a swift, practiced motion. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What do you want to know?"

"The kingdom to the east," Riku said. "Tell me about it."

The innkeeper let out a short, harsh laugh. "The kingdom to the east... You mean Eldoria? You’re not thinking of crossing over, are you, lad?"

"We are," Riku confirmed.

The innkeeper shook his head slowly. "Then you’re either very brave or very foolish."

He grabbed a bottle of some dark, unlabeled liquid from under the bar. He poured a small amount into a chipped cup for himself. "That ain’t like the Korvan Kingdom. Eldoria is a hard land, full of hard people."

"We call it the Kingdom of Storms," the innkeeper continued, his voice a low grumble. "And for good reason. The mountains there draw the lightning like a moth to a flame. Constant thunderstorms. Some say the very rock hums with electricity."

"Their people are the same," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "They’re arrogant. Militaristic. They worship the Lord of Thunder, Volanis. They see themselves as the true strength of the Solari Empire. The sword arm. And they look down on us."

He gestured around the smoky room. "To them, the Korvan Kingdom is just a quiet backwater. A land of soft farmers and weaker mages. They see our faith in the gentle Light as a weakness."

Riku’s expression hardened slightly. "So they are hostile?"

"Hostile is a gentle word for it," the innkeeper sneered. "They are our neighbors. We are part of the same Empire. But they are not our friends."

He leaned closer. His voice dropped even lower. "You know of the Crimson Creep. The famine. You know how hard these last few years have been for us."

Riku nodded.

"When things were at their worst," the innkeeper whispered, his good eye filled with a deep, bitter resentment, "the King sent messengers. Not just to the Imperial Capital. He sent them east, to Eldoria, pleading for aid. For grain. For a simple message to be passed on to the wider Empire."

He took another, larger gulp of his drink. "Not a single one of those messengers ever came back."

Riku’s eyes narrowed. "Does King Harius know about this? About the messengers?"

"Of course, he knows," the innkeeper said with a bitter sigh. "He’s the one who sent them. But what can he do? The Korvan Kingdom is a land of farmers and merchants. Eldoria is a land of warriors and storm-mages."

He shook his head. "We are weaker. That is the simple truth of it. To protest would be to invite a war we cannot win."

"Besides," he added, his voice dropping to a near-silent whisper, "who do you think the great Solari Empire would side with? A peaceful vassal state that provides grain? Or the one that provides legions of its best soldiers?"

A cold silence settled between them.

"They blocked us," the innkeeper said, his voice a low, hateful growl. "They sealed the border. They let us starve. They let us die. All because they thought we were weak. Unworthy of their help."

He finally looked Riku directly in the eye. "So you want to go to Eldoria? Go. The border is open. But be careful, lad. Be very careful."

"They may not attack you on sight," he warned. "But they will know you are from the Korvan Kingdom. They will see it in your clothes, hear it in your accent. And they will treat you like dirt."

"They are proud and selfish people," the innkeeper concluded, his voice heavy with the weight of old wounds. "And they have long memories for any perceived slight. Do not give them a reason to notice you."

The innkeeper leaned back, his face a mask of grim finality. His warning hung in the air, heavy and cold. Riku gave a slow, thoughtful nod, processing the grim reality of the political situation.

"I appreciate the warning," Riku said quietly.

"Just don’t say I didn’t tell you," the innkeeper grumbled, turning back to his tankards.

Before Riku could step away from the bar, a new voice cut through the smoky air. It was clear, sharp, and shockingly young.

"Slandering a neighboring kingdom is a dangerous game, old man. Especially when you know nothing of the truth."

Riku turned. The innkeeper froze, his hand hovering over a mug.

Standing a few paces away was a young boy. He couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. He had sharp, intelligent eyes and silver hair that was neatly tied back. He wore the simple, durable clothes of a traveler, but he carried himself with an air of confidence that was completely out of place for a child his age.

The grizzled innkeeper slowly turned his head. His one good eye narrowed. "What did you say, you little whelp?"

The boy didn’t flinch. He walked directly up to the bar, his expression one of cool disdain. He looked from the innkeeper to Riku, then back again.

"I said you are sprouting bullshit," the boy stated, his voice calm and clear. "You sit here in this dusty border town, spinning tales of cruelty and betrayal. You poison the minds of travelers with your bitter lies."

The innkeeper slammed his fist on the bar. The heavy wood shuddered. "You have a lot of nerve, boy! I speak the truth of what we’ve suffered!"

"You speak a half-truth," the boy retorted, his voice sharp as a shard of glass. "You speak of messengers who never returned. You were not there to confirm how they died, right? How do you know they were captured by the Eldoria kingdom?."

The innkeeper’s face turned a deep, blotchy red. "That’s... that’s your defense? Everyone knows that they went to the other side, but never returned!"

"Why are you defending the enemy?"