< 116. The Pearl of the Wilderness, Ptaha (1) >
*
Ptaha. One of the ancient cities from the era of the Empire of Ashit, where the pyramid of Tutankhamun Gartep is located. It is one of the three ghost cities that appeared in the Great Wilderness after the Signal Fire incident of the Three Dynasties, and it is also a city that emerged near the most intense battlefield between the Sultanate and the Empire.
Fernandez gazed at this massive tomb city, lost in thought. It was a splendid city, seemingly restored to its former glory from the era of the Empire of Ashit.
The city was adorned with sand-colored walls, massive structures, and bricks in primary colors like blue, yellow, and green, along with tents, making it a wealthy city.
-Clop. Clop.
Sitting on the back of a camel, Fernandez moved leisurely. Around him were many others doing the same—tourists or those seeking asylum.
Despite being a ghost city, the pharaohs of the Three Dynasties were generous leaders to the living of the Material World. To be precise, they themselves acted as if they were alive.
They dressed in lavish clothes, chewed food, laughed, and chatted while letting alcohol drip down their jawbones. They slept and ate meals, even though they didn’t need to, as if recreating their lives when they were alive.
It was their survival strategy. The human mind is not as flexible as one might think. A sudden change in the body inevitably affects the mind and soul. All biological reaction mechanisms and physiological needs almost forge the soul anew.
Thus, humans who become undead inevitably harbor madness. However, the corpses of this proud ghost kingdom chose to act like the living as a way to preserve their souls intact.
It was a very elegant and antiquated masquerade ball. Fernandez chuckled as he looked at the guards at the gate.
They were treating humans and skeletons passing through the gate as if they were living residents, collecting taxes.
-Clack. Clack.
[Halt.]
A guard in splendid armor looked up at Fernandez, his eyes glowing. The guard clicked his jaw once and spoke threateningly.
[State your purpose for visiting and reveal your identity.]
“Albert. Naturalized. From the Empire.”
[Oh. Lots of country bumpkins from your land lately. Haha. Isn’t it our instinct to serve a better sovereign? Head to Garam Street.]
The guard said this while thrusting out his bony hand. It was a blatant bribe request. Fernandez smirked at the sight of the moderately corrupt official.
-Clink.
Fernandez pulled out an old Ashit coin and placed it on the guard’s hand. The guard glanced around, pretending to be cautious, then loudly announced as if nothing had happened.
[Pass, next!]
*
The city’s scenery was bizarre. Fernandez saw skeletons chatting amiably with mercenaries and mummy merchants haggling prices with them. It was a land where the boundary between the living and the dead had crumbled.
-Interesting.
‘Exactly. It’s an interesting charade. They all treat this city like a masquerade ball.’
It was nothing more than a masquerade ball, cleverly ignoring reality. The living treated the dead as if they were alive to survive, and the dead treated themselves as equals to the living, acting as if they were alive.
Fernandez nodded back at a child skeleton who bowed to him and continued guiding his camel.
-Splash.
A clear waterway divided the city’s sections. It was a structure made possible because the dead didn’t discharge sewage. In the clear water, children’s skeletons played, and a woman wove fabric.
He walked along the well-polished road and entered an alley. The Paris District—the city’s pleasure quarter.
Fernandez’s sharp sense of smell caught the pungent odor of drugs from the street’s entrance. He could see living vagrants scattered everywhere and skeleton pickpockets rifling through their pockets.
A skeleton cat glowed with eerie eyes as it prowled, and vagrants with drug-yellowed faces groaned with strange moans.
The proud ghost nobles never entered this street. Fernandez slowly dismounted his camel. Carrying light luggage, he tightened his cloak.
-The Split Hoof Inn… Ah, there it is.
Among the shops with inscriptions from the Ashit era, the sign written in Kirzat language stood out distinctly.
‘How did they manage to open a shop in just a month? In this ghost city?’
-They must be competent.
‘I like it.’
Ignoring the dazed stares of drug addicts, he slowly entered the inn’s entrance.
-Creak.
“Welco…me?”
The inn’s first floor was a combination of a tavern and a drug den. In a quiet corner, an old man with a water pipe wore a foolish expression and giggled.
The interior was lit with purple glass-beaded lamps, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. Fernandez walked straight to the bartender, who was looking at him with uneasy eyes.
-Thud.
Sitting at the bar table, he looked up at the bartender, who gave him a forced smile.
“What’s wrong? No drinks?”
“We have them. I just thought you’d come at night. I expected you to scout the city first.”
“Scouting and strategizing was supposed to be your job.”
“Damn it. If a stranger heads straight to a drug den in broad daylight, wouldn’t anyone find it suspicious?”
The bartender grumbled as he picked up a bottle. He handed Fernandez a glass and poured a yellow liquid into it.
“Since you’re here, wet your throat.”
“Where’s the owner?”
“Probably in a meeting right now, ah, hold on.”
-Jingle.
A faint bell rang from deep within. Fernandez, with his sharp hearing, realized the sound came from the second floor.
“Seems like they’re calling me up.”
“Alright.”
It meant they had been aware of my presence from the moment I arrived. Fernandez downed the drink in his glass in one go and stood up. The bitter scent of alcohol clung stickily as it slid down his throat.
“It’s the room at the very end of the second floor.”
“Got it.”
No matter how faint the sound, in such a quiet building, he could pinpoint its direction and location. The enhanced body of Diemonica, flowing with divinity, surpassed human perception in functionality.
*
“Oh, come in, come in.”
Before Fernandez could even knock, the door opened, revealing a masked man. His eyes sparkled with energy.
Behind him, the interior of the room was visible. Thick blackout curtains covered the windows, and the room was dimly lit by a small lantern. It was a place filled with ashtrays littered with burnt tobacco leaves, numerous notebooks, and a massive map.
“The other agents aren’t here yet. You arrived earlier than expected. Care to rest your eyes for a bit?”
“Not necessary yet.”
“Of course, of course.”
The man chuckled and gestured for him to sit. Fernandez leaned back in an old wooden chair covered with worn fabric. The man sat across from him, tidying up the table before placing a teacup on a notebook.
“Truly a pleasure. Sir Albert. Or should I call you Baron Sernerd?”
“Seems like you’ve taken quite an interest in me.”
“You’re the hot topic in our intelligence department. I was thrilled when I got the message. And to hear you’re planning to destroy this cursed ruin? I even raised a toast! The great knight Albert couldn’t possibly fail, right? We just have to sit back and watch the feast roll in!”
The man laughed sarcastically, his tone mocking. When Fernandez’s expression didn’t change, the man tapped the table twice.
“Do you think of us as mere servants?”
“More like decent trading partners.”
“Decent? You’ve been using us without offering anything in return.”
“Then why are you still working with me?”
If there’s nothing to gain, why not just ignore me? In response to Fernandez’s question, the man slowly stroked his teacup.
“Having connections with you is convenient in many ways. The Eastern Kingdom Alliance isn’t very effective with our intelligence network.”
“Right. How much have you found out?”
“Mosat, Altberth, Infermur, Sernerd. And the Inquisition Keep.”
“Hmm.”
It was a more thorough investigation than expected. When Fernandez paused, the man spoke proudly.
“We’ve gathered as much as we could about your movements from our homeland’s perspective. Ah, but there’s one question our analysts couldn’t solve. Care to answer?”
Since hearing it from you would be the most reliable. The man slowly bowed his head and spoke quietly, as if someone might be listening. Like a believer committing blasphemy.
“Are you truly human?”
“Fortunately, it seems I still am.”
“Then… According to our records, Baron Sernerd is currently 17 years old. Is that really your age?”
“I’m a bit older than I look. I hope you’ve handled your curiosity as thoroughly as your tasks.”
“Haha. No need to worry about that. I’ve got a good grasp of your personality. Alright, let’s move on to business.”
The man unfolded a large map from one corner of the table. It was a detailed operational map of the entire city. It would qualify as highly advanced tactical intelligence.
It had only been a month. Since this city was established. Even if they had set up a spy network immediately after, it was an impossibly short time.
Yet, the preparations were surprisingly thorough and flawless. Fernandez adjusted his assessment of their value and took a sip of tea.
“Not worried about poison at all?”
“My body isn’t susceptible to poison. And poisoning me wouldn’t gain you anything.”
“Such confidence?”
The man chuckled.
“We’ve carried out Baron Sernerd’s instructions well. The city’s ruling class is now terrified of the rumors about him. The fear of an unknown figure, the wandering mage Faijashi.”
“And?”
He had ordered three things. First, to spread exaggerated rumors about himself throughout the city.
“Ah, we’ve also made sufficient contact with Prince Neferka. He’s confident he can proceed with the plan as soon as you give the signal. Honestly, I’m not fond of that wraith.”
“And?”
Second, to establish connections with Neferka’s faction. So that when Fernandez arrives in the city to prepare for the operation, they can cooperate organically.
Neferka is currently staying in the palace, fully prepared.
“Will you be contacting him soon? The prince is preparing a banquet.”
“A defeated general who couldn’t even handle a beastman tribe, throwing a banquet?”
“Isn’t that what politics is about? After the last defeat, Prince Neferka’s standing in the palace has weakened. He needs to show his rivals that he’s still strong.”
Ah, the man lowered his voice. He knew exactly what information Fernandez wanted but deliberately delayed.
He tapped a corner of the map. The Garam district. A residential area where wealthy commoners and lower nobles lived. A clean street, quite a distance from the slums.
“She’s still in the city. Here, hiding among some fairly decent guards.”
Upon hearing this, Fernandez’s eyes burned blue. Seeing this, the man giggled.
“Our Kirzat Shaksisi is also very, very interesting. The sight of Iron Side’s traitor being torn apart! Honestly, that’s why I decided to help you. That woman has been too reckless.”
The man extended his hand for a handshake. When Fernandez slowly grasped it, the man smiled beneath his mask.
“What should we call you for this operation? Knight of the Round Table Albert? Baron Sernerd? Or the wandering mage Faijashi?”
“No. Not this time.”
Fernandez gripped the man’s hand tightly and spoke slowly.
“Inquisition Officer Angelo.”
Angela. What that woman needs is not punishment, revenge, or a curse.
But a heresy trial.
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