Chapter 37: The King, the Envoy, and the Outdated Map

The soldier restraining the man had no inclination to listen from the outset. This junior soldier, no stranger to bloodshed, was poised to strike at a moment’s notice, awaiting only a nod from his superior.

The general considered the matter with remarkable seriousness for a moment. He wouldn’t ordinarily have deliberated for so long, particularly as the man’s explanation of his intentions had immediately sparked the suspicion that he was a spy. Had the man only spoken the first ninety percent of his statement, the general would have readily granted the soldier’s request for execution. Yet, it was the man’s impromptu addition of a final sentence that subtly shifted the general’s perspective.

The general’s change of heart certainly wasn’t due to any belief in the man’s earnest assurances. On the contrary, in this world, words repeatedly emphasized with guarantees often prove the least trustworthy. Much like ‘drawing a snake and adding feet,’ the man’s final, seemingly candid confession merely solidified the general’s impression that he was an utter fool.

However, a thought occurred to him, a reversal of his initial reasoning: ‘Could such a babbling idiot truly be a spy? Preposterous! Surely the bar for espionage hasn’t fallen so dramatically.’

Thus, the general drew his conclusion: ‘Even the less-than-brilliant monarchs and commanders of the Seven Great Nations wouldn’t dispatch a spy so utterly clownish.’ To put it another way: ‘While incompetent spies might exist, none could possibly be *this* inept!’

“You claim to carry a personal letter from your village chief? Let me see it.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Though, a slight correction: it’s not the village chief’s personal letter, but rather a letter penned by a villager, at the chief’s behest…”

“Whatever the case, just hand it over!”

The general seized the man’s hair, his grip so tight that a mere increase in pressure from his clenched fist would have instantly rendered the man bald.

“Ow, ow, ow! My apologies, sir! I’ll hand over the letter right away! It’s in my coat pocket!”

The ‘pocket’ referred to his jacket pocket, but with the man still half-sprawled on the ground, retrieving the letter proved rather inconvenient. Yet, resolving this minor issue was hardly a challenge!

The soldier watched as the general raised his iron-clad military boot and swiftly kicked it beneath the man’s prone form.

*Thud!*

The man immediately erupted into a violent fit of coughs, his face-down body abruptly twisting half a turn and flipping upwards under the considerable force. ‘Wasn’t that a perfect flip?’ Though the man writhed like a fish out of water, clearly in agony, the general dismissed it as non-fatal, paying no mind to his recent action.

“This is the letter, then? Let me see…”

The general retrieved the desired item from the pocket, tore open the envelope, and, holding the letter firmly, rapidly scanned its contents. A village cut off from the world could hardly produce an interesting letter; its contents were, predictably, nothing more than tired clichés. The general had handled countless such correspondences during his official duties, and frankly, these matters no longer held any appeal for him.

It wasn’t until a new thought sparked in his weary mind that his dismissive attitude began to shift. Suddenly, the general’s eyes widened. He had noticed something:

“This script… it was common many years ago, wasn’t it? Do people in your village still write like this?”

Unaware of the significance of the script, the man, suppressing the internal discomfort from the kick, answered truthfully:

“Everyone in the village writes in this manner.”

“Is that so? You people really ought to keep up with what’s happening beyond your village. This archaic script hasn’t been used in most parts of the continent for at least twenty years!”

Had the general not encountered similar letters during his own childhood, he wouldn’t have been able to correctly decipher the contents of this one. It was precisely for this reason that the man successfully proved his identity: that he was indeed ‘himself,’ hailing from that outwardly secluded village, and not a spy dispatched by another nation.

With his identity now verified, the man’s treatment underwent a dramatic reversal. The general helped the man, who had been sprawled on the ground moments ago, to his feet, then gestured towards a particularly massive military encampment, directing him to proceed there. Instantly, a heavy, ornate saber was placed upon the man’s instinctively outstretched palm; he could barely manage to lift its considerable weight even with both hands.

“You may go to that encampment and rest now. Take my saber with you! If anyone tries to hinder your entry at the camp gates, simply display this blade.”

Frankly, the man was utterly bewildered by the turn of events, only vaguely registering that he had somehow managed to preserve his life.

“Thank you, thank you, General sir!”

After a few blinks, the general no longer had to endure the man’s obsequious bowing and scraping.

Meanwhile, once the junior soldier was certain the outsider had departed, his knees, which had been rigidly held straight, could no longer bear the strain and collapsed heavily to the ground. The kneeling soldier, facing the figure before him, began to kowtow with fervent force, proactively seeking forgiveness for his earlier presumptuous behavior.

“Rise. I’ve seen enough of this ‘two-legged dog’ act. Straighten your back at once, or I shall ensure you become a dead man!”

“I am grateful for your clemency… Your Majesty, the King!”

The soldier scrambled to his feet and, facing the sovereign of the nation who stood before him, performed a flawless knight’s salute.

The man from the village, however, remained utterly oblivious: the individual he had been interacting with was none other than the reigning monarch of the Kingdom of Sero, whom he had mistakenly taken for a mere general.

The Kingdom of Sero was not a great power. Its king could not afford the indolence of the monarchs of larger nations, who spent their days in palatial leisure. Instead, many affairs within the kingdom, such as inspecting the borderlines, demanded the personal attention of the highest ruler. The sovereign had no alternative but to become the kingdom’s unparalleled ‘super workaholic.’

Yet, every coin has two sides! Had it not been for his diligence, the King would never have encountered the envoy from the village, and none of the subsequent events would have transpired.

His gaze returned to the letter, its emphasized contents proving quite intriguing. In essence: the village chief proposed the allegiance of his entire village in exchange for the dispatch of the Knight Order, intending to leverage their strength to eradicate the demonic forces. On any other day, the King would have readily agreed to such a negotiation. But now, a truly brilliant idea had sparked within him!

“Tell me, did that ‘two-legged dog’ mention the ‘Seven Great Nations’ earlier?”

The soldier, despite being granted an audience with his monarch, did not temper his fiery disposition, replying indignantly:

“That rustic fool was utterly disrespectful! He didn’t even bother to ascertain which nation he was in before brazenly barging in…”

In truth, the blame for his misdirection couldn’t entirely be laid at the man’s feet. After all, the map the man had used for reference was an heirloom, passed down from his village chief’s grandfather. Its practical utility had, unfortunately, been limited to several decades prior. The borders of the great nations once delineated on that map had long since, along with numerous smaller surrounding territories, been absorbed into the Kingdom of Sero. Thus, the man had inadvertently stumbled into becoming a guest of a nation opposed to the Seven Great Nations. To this very moment, he remained blissfully unaware of the monumental blunder he had committed!

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