Chapter 6: The Fort City of Madukat

Moira’s long trip to Madukat was nothing but arduous and drilling. However, what made the trip became a living nightmare for her had little to do with the length it took to travel from the beautiful Broken Shore of Neirra to the foreign land of Madukat. It was the suffocating small carriage that she was jailed inside and the companies around her.

Iffy, the young girl who Moira’s oldest brother handpicked to be her handmaiden, to live with her in the foreign land of Zard, she bore Moira to tears with her attempts to engage in small ladylike pleasantries. Moira was reminded the deadening time when she spent her days behind the closed door and high wall of the woman quarter in Itos.

Iffy reminded Moira of those rich man’s daughters, who were invited to her father garden for the tea party. They bore Moira with their talks about stitches, about the weather, about their pale white skin, about the jewels and decorations that they wore, about the look and wealth of those prospective males that would breed them, about everything that made life turned dreadfully gray and utterly boring to Moira. Moira only remembered repeating “Uh huh,” “Yes,” and “No,” to Iffy repeatedly throughout the majority of their conversations. Moira had to admire Iffy for not being bored with her and still had the energy and excitement to keep talking to someone as bored as Moira every day for the three months that they traveled from the Broken Shore together.

Moira did not want to stay behind the blind and shade of her carriage. She wanted to ride a horse, to feel the wind whipped against her face, to feel the sun shone on her hair. The ever-so-faithful old knight leader sir Erik would deny Moira of such simple pleasure.

“It’s unladylike and bad for your image with my men, my Lady,” he adamantly reasoned.

It was a time like this that made Moira dearly missed the villa at the Broken Shore. She missed the unforgiving frosty water that she swam with the local priestesses under the moonlit night all-naked. She missed the exhilaration she felt after drawing her bowstring to her cheek and watched the loosed shaft flew true to her targets. She missed the competitions, the laughter, and the fruity taste of strong wine on her most beloved sisters’ breasts and lips under the three moons.

Moira wished that she could turn back time, and rescinded her decision to be wedded to the Warden, and carried out her most stupid plan. She would laugh and savor the tears in her brother’s eyes as he called for their mother’s name to save him from Moira’s wrath. She wished she could do that without a single thought of her kingdom or people. Sometimes, she wished that she was just that thoughtless. Sometimes, she wished that she was a person who could embrace her thoughtlessness and stupidity.

Thankfully, there were moments, few, that her long and arduous and worn-out trip was not boring.

Her convoy was attacked by bandits, twice, after Moira has crossed the border. It was not pretty, it was gruesome and haunting, but Moira welcomed it with open arms. It was only at the time like this that Moira felt that she could be herself. She did not want to stay in the shade, expecting to be protected by her knights and guards. She wanted to fight, protecting herself with her own strength.

These bandits, it seemed that their mother did not teach them to not pick a fight with the users of civilization magic.

Moira unleashed her scorching fireballs on the bandits, being guards behind walls of shields of her guards and the watchful eyes of the worrisome knight leader. The second time the bandits attacked, it appeared that they had expected Moira’s horrific fireballs. They came with round shields, bucklers, and hide shields in their hands while being extremely mindful of her presence. Once Moira set loose her magic, they would do their best to evade or block them with their soaked wet shields and discarded their lighted shield once it caught fire. It appeared that they were the same group that previously attacked Moira’s convoy.

The bandits surrounded the convoy and rushed in like locust, this time with greater numbers.

was not a spell created for war and combat. It was a spell initially created to dissuade combats. Moira gritted her teeth and ignored the taunting smirks on the beardy face of the bandits, depositing an enormous chunk of her mana into her magic scepter.

“Sinintee, o mighty father, your daughter implores your mighty Providence, what I seek is the ”

It was like the ancient priests and priestesses of the Great temple thought that the “Eye of Civilization” was not horrible enough. They decided to craft a miracle that was even more horrifying, more destructive, something that would inspire more fear and terror to become a more fitting tool to use in war.

And the “Breath of civilization” came to be, just like that.

In an instant, a dozen of the bandit was engulfed in a stream of bluish orange flame. They screamed and howled as the fire ravenously devoured their entire bodies whilst they were still alive.

was an advanced magic but the was an entirely different beast. It was one of the most destructive magic spells belonged to the civilization magic branch, only a few people were capable of wielding such a terrible spell. It was crafted from the image of the fire breathing mythical dragon.

Nothing could terrify men than dragons.

Moira turned the dragon’s head at another group of flanking bandits. She took a deep breath, pumping a river of her mana into the spell. From the dragon’s opened mouth, bluish orange fire streamed in a gruesome arc, sweeping across the plain and consigning everything that it touched into a fiery fate.

That flame greedily devoured those bandits whole, thirty men or so at once. They howled and danced within the horrid fire, experiencing one of the most horrifying and most painful deaths that could befall on a person.

Witnessing such terrible image, the remained bandits ran for their dear lives, leaving their shields and weapons behind. This time, Moira knew they would not come back for more.

When Moira ended her spell, her head started swaying and her legs softened. She slumped like a bird got hit by an arrow. She felt drained due to the enormous mana she has offered for the spell. The knight leader caught her just in time. He made a giant fuss, cursing Moira’s magic tutor for teaching her such a terrible spell.

Most of the time, the users of ended up killing themselves due to extreme mana exhaustion as they cast the spell. The old knight escorted Moira into her carriage in his pale white teary face as if he believed that Moira was about to die, but she didn’t.

Her shortly recovery afterward made the old knight held his head in disbelief. He kept telling her to stop acting strong and just rest properly. However, she didn’t. She did not pretend to recover from her exhaustion. She was fine, always, her magic tutor told her that her aptitude with civilization magic was unprecedented, even if she could only wield fire spells among the civilization magic branch.

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Then, that day finally came.

“My lady, we have arrived,” the old knight’s light knocks on the carriage door filled Moira’s with brimming expectation. She opened the carriage window and leaned out. While she was not keen on meeting her husband to be, Moira has looked forward to witnessing the high wall of the legendary city Madukat for a long time.

This is the golden fort? It was a huge disappointment. Moira was thoroughly heartbroken. The fort city of Madukat, one of the biggest cities in the northern realm, the same fort city that has once repelled an army of ten thousands of Silver Snow soldiers during the Hundred Years war that Moira has learned from her elderly matrons, it was a big disappointment for Moira.

The Fort city Madukat, also known as the golden city and the impenetrable fortress of the kingdom of Zard, was something of a legend even for people of the country of Silver Snow who fought on the opposite side during the Hundred Year War. It belonged to the Bellmore, the Warden of the Golden Triangle Region for generations, one of the wealthiest families in the north due to the large gold mine underneath Madukat. Or so Moira has heard from the tales of her mother.

The Fort city of Madukat in front of her looked nothing like the tales and poetries or like the Madukat inside her imagination. It had towering walls and a deep moat that filled with water during summer time to make the city look like it was built on an Isle and surrounded by a lake. But the towering walls of Madukat in Moira’s eyes felt like they could fall apart at any moment. They looked worn out and damaged.

“Was this city under a siege recently?” Moira asked her old knight.

“Not that I am aware of, my lady. But I see no smoke or dead bodies. So it could have happened some time ago,” the old knight replied, viewed the fort city with intrigued eyes.

The old knight has sent a messenger to ride half a day ahead of the convoy to inform the Lord of Fort city Madukat regarding Moira’s arrival, and yet he did not see the Warden’s rider or any reception from the Lord of Madukat to receive his bride to be. And the old knight inaudibly complaint of how rude the Warden was under his breath.

Only when Moira and her envoy approached the city gate, a bald and skinny man approached her envoy, introducing himself as Girout, housekeeper and the right hand of the lord and welcoming Moira to the city of Madukat.

“Master Girout, pray tell me what happened to the city?” Moira could not contain her curiosity any longer and asked the bald man through her carriage window.

“My lady, please, just Girout, my lady,” the bald man respectfully bent his body to Moira, “Last month, there was a siege to the city, my lady.”

“That’s strange, I have not heard of any news about war,” the old knight chimed in, surprised by the news.

“No, there was no war, good sir. It’s a bandit attack,” Girout replied.

“Bandit? This is Madukat, is it not? What kind of bandits has the nerve to lay siege to this city?” Moira was beside herself with surprise, “What was Lord Bellmore doing?” and let slip of her inner thought.

Girout had that surprised look on his face due to the criticized words of his master’s bride to be. A woman would dare to criticize the lord of Madukat, inconceivable. But he instantly wiped any trace of such thought on his face, and bowed, “My lady, you don’t understand. There was a devil calling himself Scarface Bloodbeard live within the ruins of Bundor Bastion to the South of Madukat. He has won over all the bandit lords in this Golden Triangle Region and put them under his command. It is said that he had at least four thousand bandits serving him.”

“And…” Moira was cut off from her word, the old knight leader has forcefully closed her carriage window just in time to prevent her from questioning the Lord of Madukat’s authority over his land in front of his servants.

“My lady had an arduous and long trip. She is tired.” the old knight said.

“Please forgive me for not able to provide better reception. Please follow me, this way. We have prepared the accommodation for the lady and the rest of you, good sir.”

Moira could imagine Girout saying that while shaking his head with a fake hospitable smile on his face.

As her convoy traveled through the large gate of Madukat, Moira secretly peeked out of the gap of her carriage window. She saw a city devoid of warmth with streets that were full of beggars and haggard looking people staring at her convoy with curious eyes. It looked worse than the slum Moira once saw in Itos and this was the main street of the Golden city Madukat. In her mind, she told herself to not expect too much of her husband-to-be, some descendant of great heroes he might be, but his land was afflicted of bandits running rampant and his city was like this, she knew what to expect. She knew where her expectation should be placed, at which height.

Moira soon realized that she could not be more mistaken about that.