Chapter 835 — Visitors from the North

Sir Golosh looked curiously at the dragonmark witch beside him, whose expression had suddenly changed, and could not help asking, "Lady Asharena, is something the matter?"

Asharena, red-haired, frowned slightly, roused from her brief daze, and then said in a low voice, "No... I must have been mistaken. I thought I saw someone I knew, but how could that be... and the features were different besides..."

Shaking her head as she spoke, she added, "Never mind. Let us continue."

"This new Cecil Empire truly is a little different from 'Ansu'..." Sir Golosh did not doubt her; instead he raised his head and looked at the strange devices gleaming with a metallic luster on the distant city wall, at the crystals floating above certain mechanisms, and at the deep blue drapes that hung from the battlements all the way to the ground—drapes embroidered with the emblem of the Cecil Empire, brilliant in the sunlight. All of it conveyed an air utterly unlike the old, moribund Ansu of former days. "The realms of humans change so quickly."

"Everything about them is full of change," Asharena said offhandedly. "Not like Fort Dragonfall—nothing there but stone that has not changed in thousands of years, and old fellows more stubborn than the stone."

The dragonkin entered the city.

These visitors from the far northern realm rode gray-white pack beasts taller than warhorses, wore armor and surcoats of a style unlike the human world's, and carried white banners painted with the likeness of a dragon in profile; in an atmosphere of solemn ceremony they stepped into the human city, while the soldiers of the Cecil Empire stood upon the towering walls and, with equal solemnity, watched these guests from the north come before Duchess Victoria and General Byron.

In accordance with the agreed rites, the dragonkin procession halted at the outer edge of the square; then the ambassador and his advisors dismounted and, guided by attendants, came before their hosts. Byron and Victoria led the officials of the civil hall forward to receive them, and beneath the stately imperial banners the two sides performed the ceremony of exchanging documents.

Though Byron was the one formally charged with receiving them, the principal negotiator throughout the proceedings was Victoria, better acquainted with the north, together with the several advisors present. The Duchess of the Northland, in a white gown and a short ermine cape, was first to greet the composed, middle-aged man: "Sir Golosh, in the name of the Cecil Emperor and of this land, welcome."

"Duchess Victoria, I am delighted to have so singular an opportunity to visit so great a realm," Sir Golosh said with a faint smile. "I am sure this will be an unforgettable journey."

The dragonkin were not much given to elaborate ceremony, and the newborn Cecil Empire likewise pursued simplicity and efficiency; the first contact between the two sides was quickly concluded. Then Victoria turned and looked at Byron beside her: "General Byron, you... hm? General Byron?"

Byron had at some point gone stiff in the face, and was staring with something strange in his eyes at a red-haired woman among the dragonkin—an undoubtedly somewhat rude lapse. Seeing this, Victoria at once could not help reminding him in a low voice: "General Byron, please pay attention..."

"Ilena?" Byron had already spoken unconsciously. "Is that you?"

And the red-haired dragonkin woman spoke almost at the same moment: "You really are Byron? You... wait, who is Ilena?"

Byron's expression plainly shifted the moment he heard her voice, as though something beyond belief had just been confirmed; but at the second half of her retort, the delight and astonishment that had not yet fully surfaced turned to awkward bewilderment: "Uh... aren't you called Ilena..."

Victoria, sharp-witted as she was, had swiftly recalled her earlier conversations with Byron and pieced the whole thread together; now she could not help turning her head slightly aside, and very nearly raised a hand to her forehead.

Byron, too, quickly realized he had gotten something wrong, and hastened to explain: "I must be misremembering—it has been twenty years, after all—Eliza?"

The red-haired dragonkin's expression only grew stranger: "And who is Eliza?"

Byron: "..."

The atmosphere on the spot slid rapidly in a direction no one had anticipated. Before this important meeting could be utterly ruined, Sir Golosh finally stepped in to salvage it: "This is Lady Asharena, a dragonmark witch from Fort Dragonfall. She once traveled through the human world and serves as our advisor on this journey—it seems wondrous fate has arranged a reunion after long parting here today?"

The red-haired dragonkin woman, hands folded at her waist, regarded Byron without expression: "The alias I used in those days was Shana."

Byron had quickly composed himself as well; standing straight, he cleared his throat softly to cover his embarrassment and said calmly, "...You see, I remembered at least one syllable..."

Asharena: "..."

"Let us return to the castle first," came Victoria's voice from the side, like a voice from heaven rescuing everyone present. "We cannot keep our guests waiting here too long."

Everyone immediately agreed.

And so the brief mishap in the square seemed to become a minor interlude, and the remaining proceedings were at last carried through to their conclusion in relative smoothness. Thereafter the guests from the Holy Dragon Duchy, led by Victoria and the others, came to the great hall of Fort Windshield.

The thick walls and the shield enveloping the fortress kept out the biting wind; a lavish banquet had been laid, and amid the light, cheerful music echoing through the hall, the interlude from the square resumed—

After the formal ceremonies, the dragonkin and the Cecilians fell into casual talk, and certain private matters could now be properly discussed.

In the banquet hall, Byron and Asharena stared at each other, wide-eyed, the incredible coincidence leaving both parties at a loss for how to begin, until Victoria, who likewise marveled at fate's whimsy, spoke up to break the silence: "General Byron, is this truly the 'swordswoman' you remember?"

"...It is," Byron said, touching the tip of his nose a little awkwardly. "Her looks have not changed at all from that year—I recognized her at a glance, and yet I could not believe my own eyes."

"You, on the other hand, look nothing like you did twenty years ago," Asharena said offhandedly. "At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me."

"It has been twenty years," Byron shrugged. "And I am only human."

Asharena pressed her lips together, her gaze sweeping back and forth over Byron several times before she could not help saying, "...So it really is you... but how is this possible... You were plainly just the captain of a small mercenary company in the Southern March, and now... an imperial general? What on earth happened in these twenty years?"

"Sometimes even I marvel that it all seems like a dream," Byron said with a smile and a shake of his head. "But what about you, A... ah, Asharena—what is your story?"

"Is it so hard to understand?" Asharena glanced down at herself, a trace of a smile on her face. "My apologies—I did deceive you all back then. My homeland is not Kazabur in the Northland, but Fort Dragonfall in the Holy Dragon Duchy. I am of the dragonkin—though once that identity is made public in the human world, it brings a certain amount of trouble."

"It is Kazaburei," Byron corrected at once, then looked at Victoria beside him with a rather odd expression. "So I did not misremember the place name—it was she who got it wrong..."

Victoria suddenly felt rather tired, and said, almost with a sigh: "But you got the person's name wrong."

"Kazaburei?" Asharena's eyes widened in surprise; then she shook her head. "I always thought it was Kazabur. So I had it wrong all along... and yet no one ever caught it?"