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“I’m sorry, but this is child abuse.”

“You seem to have a lack of talent for farming. Where do you see yourself as a child?”

“The age gap between you and me is larger than that of most grandmothers and their granddaughters. At this point, even the court wouldn’t rule this as child abuse, would it?”

The language of the elderly is perplexing. Linguistic ability is directly tied to brain development, and a clever brain cannot withstand the ravages of time. This is precisely why the elderly tend to ramble on, straying off-topic unexpectedly.

In that sense, Alexandra Petrovna was deeply worried about her disciple’s brain health.

How can someone so young puff out their cheeks from just one little hit? And they dare to mention age in front of a teacher as lofty as the sky?

“This brat’s attitude resembles the drunken ramblings of a three-year-old dwarf. What sin have I committed to be stuck with such a wretched child as my disciple?”

“You must have built up some good karma.”

“Oh dear… If only you could at least speak properly.”

The Archmage, recognized by the Smirnov royal family and the Magic Tower, found himself troubled by the tantrums of the eighty-year-old Duke, who was acting like a spoiled child.

But Kamila, with her haughty demeanor, simply turned her chin away.

Sporting only a single apple on top of her head.

“Hmph!”

That sassy defiance started prompting some self-reflection in her teacher, who was over a hundred years old.

Perhaps she needed to be tossed back into the human modification furnace. Maybe I should’ve infused a bit more magic into that apple hit earlier, he thought.

The novice professor felt as if the world was crumbling around him. That’s why the Duke let out a deep sigh.

“Already worried, are we?”

“…?”

“I can only imagine how my friend will tease me when he sees this.”

—

Episode 20 – Who Threatened with a Sword?

As with all authoritarian systems, prestige and face are important virtues in Ashtistan, especially for the civil servants of the Republic.

The culture that respects face and prestige likely stems from the customs of the Mauritania Continent, where honor is more precious than life itself, but the key reason lies in the history and politics that form the foundation of Ashtistan.

Thus, even as I passed through the splendidly adorned corridors of the palace, I couldn’t help but ponder the history of this nation.

—

“Your Highness, may I introduce our foreign guests to the palace?”

An elderly lady in traditional clothing spoke to the Duke.

The Azadi Palace in Shizuya, the capital of Ashtistan, possesses a unique structure: the inner and outer courts.

Typically, the inner court is where the empress or queen resides, but here, its meaning is a bit special.

If you liken it to the White House or the Blue House, the outer court is a space where visitors can come and go. In contrast, the inner court is where VIPs actually stay, a zone of access strictly restricted to civil servants.

An interesting fact is that even civil servants cannot casually enter the inner court of Azadi Palace. Staff for the outer and inner courts are distinctly divided, and even the guards have separate affiliations.

The elderly lady was a civil servant who worked in the ‘inner court.’

Unlike those who guided us from the entrance.

“Guide? Is there a reason for that?”

“As your journey might be long, I worry you might get bored.”

The Duke nodded, and the guide respectfully continued.

“Hero, do you know anything about the history of Ashtistan?”

“I know a bit. Though not thoroughly, I skimmed through the library before I came here.”

“I see. Then do you know the name of this palace where you are currently?”

In a moment that was not a lie, Kamila spoke with a voice barely laced with conviction.

“Azadi Palace, right?”

“Correct. It is the oldest building in Shizuya and symbolizes the legitimacy of Ashtistan that has carried over from the old dynasty. That is Azadi Palace.”

—

The old dynasty ruling over Ashtistan was not a good nation, even in jest.

While it succeeded in modernization during the Tower-Cult wars that ushered in the revolutionary tide, it quickly fell into debt due to international sanctions represented by the Nastasia Treaty.

In that chaotic era, Ashtistan was one of the few nations on the Mauritania Continent that achieved modernization.

—

“Shizuya boasts deep history even in the red desert. It is a place where the past and present coexist.”

The guide continued his explanation, walking steadily.

“Foreign powers have never set foot on this land, and Shizuya was the first to bloom civilization upon the soil of peace. Azadi Palace symbolizes that history.”

—

However, the wobbly economy ignited the ember of civil war, creating millions of refugees from neighboring countries’ conflicts.

It’s only natural that people who lost their homes dream of the ‘American Dream.’ Seven million citizens took to the escape routes, and 1.9 million of those refugees flocked to the borders.

—

“The peace of Shizuya has lasted a long time. It has never been conquered, despite numerous civil wars in neighboring countries and countless wars with foreign nations. Due to the Holy Land of Al-Yabd, Shizuya is also called the holy body of the Earth God, and weary fighters sought refuge here.”

—

At first, Ashtistan did not turn away the refugees.

Believers of Al-Yabd were considered blood-related siblings.

The old dynasty opened the borders, firmly believing in the Earth God, welcoming 570,000 refugees over six years because lives were at stake.

The issue, however, was that governments of surrounding nations protested.

They claimed that the ‘rebel instigators’ who fled to Ashtistan were commanding rebels from the refugee camps.

Of course, the Ashtistan Kingdom paid no mind.

—

“Having a mixture of diverse ethnicities and races would likely bring about some inconveniences, wouldn’t there? Was there no such issue?”

When the British girl asked in a seemingly calm voice, the guide from Ashtistan wore a picturesque smile.

“It was always bustling with people, yet laughter never left Shizuya, even for a moment.”

“Is that so?”

“Ashtistan has always suffered from the threats of foreign powers. However, not all enemies are external. Similarly, a friend can be one near or far.”

—

The story wasn’t limited to humans. Dark Elves, Dwarves, Beastmen, Orcs, Goblins, and more. Those living in the red desert and vast plains could always become friends with one another.

For such a reason, the guide pointed to artifacts displayed at regular intervals.

“The artifacts you see here were offerings made by Dark Elves who traversed Eastern lands in ancient times. Additionally, the marble tiles and columns on the floor were brought back by the delegation from a renowned mountain in the far East 860 years ago.”

“Oh…”

“The Azadi Palace has always been a critical juncture and gateway heading east, making every envoy and merchant passing through Shizuya our friends. It’s also the reason why Shizuya could enjoy freedom and prosperity.”

—

Such assertions were groundless, and since many governments in the international community rallied to protect Ashtistan.

From the Kingdom of Abas to the Kien Empire, and even during the reign of the Patalia Republic.

Even distant Eastern countries raised their voices to support the Ashtistan Kingdom.

However…

When the envoy from the Lushan Federation dispatched to the World Union exposed the “Information Agency of Ashtistan supporting rebel forces from the refugee camps,” the civil wars surrounding Mauritania entered a new phase.

—

“In that sense, the 1300 years of history that Azadi Palace holds symbolizes not only the peace of Ashtistan but also its prosperity. Hence, a painter from Patalia who visited Shizuya in the 16th century completed ‘Above the Sun Palace,’ expressing eternity and immortality.”

A towering spire loomed between the pillars of the corridor. The guide added that this was where the Patalian master stayed while finishing his painting.

“Above the Sun Palace, huh….”

Duke Alexandra Petrovna stared at the spire with a somewhat nostalgic gaze.

“A masterpiece that led the revival of 16th-century art. It’s displayed in the Patalia National Museum. Child, have you seen it?”

“No?”

Kamila looked at the Duke as if taken aback, her eyes asking if she had any understanding of art.

To which the archmage began, as if curious about the obvious.

“Why wouldn’t I know it? At one time, it was hanging in my room.”

“Oh come on~ What kind of joke is that? How could you possibly hang something from a foreign national museum in your room? Unless you stole it and returned it afterward.”

“……”

The archmage averted his gaze. The British girl tilted her head in puzzlement at that sight.

“…That can’t be true, right?”

“I mean, stole? If someone hears that, they might misunderstand… I just borrowed it through a fair bet from a friend’s family.”

“What bet?”

“…It might have been a horse race?”

“……”

“…It was during my youth.”

A deep sigh. The disciple’s weary voice turned the topic. The guide proceeded as if not having heard anything.

“That ‘Above the Sun Palace,’ which once belonged to the Ranieri family, is regarded as one of the representative works that initiated the revival of 16th-century art. The scenery of Azadi Palace and Shizuya, seen from the spire, distinctly displays the status of the ‘Ashtistan Kingdom,’ which had commanded the red desert for thousands of years.”

—

The reputation of the old dynasty that ruled Ashtistan for thousands of years plummeted in an instant.

They were no longer recognized as family, having instigated fights exploiting the tragedy of siblings and siblings.

They were judged as more villainous than even mere paper due to their behind-the-scenes exploitation during the civil wars of neighboring countries.

Countless international organizations and aid groups that had supported refugees condemned the Ashtistan Kingdom, labeling them as a kingdom that used refugees as human shields, while the press that covered the civil wars revealed the orders exchanged between the Ashtistan Kingdom and the rebels.

From a devout neighbor to a morally bankrupt thug. The successful role model of the Mauritania Continent was thus cast into a filth-ridden abyss.

—

“From ancient times to the modern period, Shizuya has always existed as a corridor where the kingdoms of the Mauritania Continent converge, and as expressed in ‘Above the Sun Palace,’ the brilliance of Ashtistan reached every corner of the Mauritania Continent.”

“……”

“The fact that ancient manuscripts described Ashtistan as ‘the Empire of the Desert’ stems from this background.”

—

Nobody knows on what grounds the old dynasty had supported the rebels.

All that is known is that they are cornered.

The civil wars in neighboring countries are unlikely to end anytime soon.

And even if peace were to come, the neighboring countries that have already turned their backs on them will never send trust their way again—that much is crystal clear.

Eventually, the former monarchy of Ashtistan found itself at a crossroads.

Would they walk the thorny path, waiting for a peace whose arrival was uncertain, while acknowledging all taboos?

Or would they insist on their choices to the bitter end, even at the risk of turning everyone into enemies?

The path chosen by the former monarchy was clearly the latter.

“Although the fallen royal family lost the public’s support and the light has dimmed in their decline, it remains unchanged that Ashtistan has steadfastly maintained its central position in the Mauritania Continent during its transition to a republic. Behind this fact lies the invisible efforts of countless citizens.”

Borders were closed, and guards were stationed. Anyone crossing without permission would be executed under royal law.

Publications that insult the royal family were entirely prohibited. All press and gatherings must receive prior approval and censorship; without a license, even foreign journalists would be held accountable.

Law enforcement agencies apprehended anyone who had communicated with foreigners, and the secret police infiltrated universities and academies on the pretext of preventing subversive activities.

“…Specifically?”

“Well, as you might have heard, there were many who resisted the tyranny of the royal family. They were very brave and righteous, from intellectuals…”

A prominent professor was dragged out by the hair in front of his students during class.

In a five-year-old interview, he had claimed that the power to appoint public officials should be entrusted to the cabinet and not the royal family, leading the professor in his forties to receive a 50-year prison sentence for contempt of the royal family.

“Workers…”

An activist imprisoned in a labor camp went on a hunger strike for about 100 days to expose the conditions inside.

After being kidnapped by thugs on his way home and brought to court, he died of starvation in solitary confinement at the age of 23 just before the 103rd sun rose.

“Students…”

A foreign student who had left the hotel to meet a friend was forcibly deported by the police waiting in the lobby, while the friend awaiting him in Ashtistan fell into a coma 30 days later.

At the time, the investigator claimed, “We only served tea; there was no violence or coercion,” but remained silent when family members questioned, “Is it normal for nine teeth to fall out in 30 days?”

A lawyer who had been assisting the bereaved family was shot and killed by thugs on motorcycles after leaving the temple following a service.

“Many worked in their own ways to overthrow the dynasty.”

“……”

“At that time, the most important centering figure was today’s cabinet head of the Republic of Ashtistan, ‘Membashi.’ He led the revolution to oust the corrupt dictator and has been serving Ashtistan ever since. Of course… at the time, the minions of the Azadi Palace exerted influence throughout Shizuya, causing numerous difficulties.”

Regardless of the process, the rulers who had dominated the Ashtistan Kingdom for thousands of years thus became tyrants of the desert.

Even the Kien Empire, which had strengthened its kinship during the support for the independence of the Magic Tower, was beginning to say, “Wouldn’t it be better to take it easy?” Their tyranny made even Nikolai VI, a pioneer in this field, shake his head.

Yet, no one restrained that tyranny.

The army of the Ashtistan Kingdom, protecting the dictator, was one of the most powerful forces on the Mauritania Continent.

For their own reasons, intersecting interests chose to ignore the tyranny of the former monarchy.

However, what people did not anticipate was…

“Then one day, when a sandstorm obscured the skies of Shizuya and swept away the corrupt dynasty of the Azadi Palace.”

In this world, there are brave people who gladly express their anger for a complete stranger simply because they were beaten right before their eyes, and that same person had made a similar ruckus across the sea in their youth.

“True freedom (آزادی: Azadi) has finally arrived in Ashtistan.”

As the long story came to an end, the elderly woman concluded the conversation with a smile as if it was painted.

And I quietly sighed while locking eyes with Camila.

…They said they were introducing me to the palace, but this feels like some kind of propaganda. Is this North Korea or something?

What I heard was about the fall of the Ashtistan Kingdom, yet for some reason, the ‘history of revolution’ came to mind. The situation felt eerily similar to when a North Korean guide was rambling on endlessly.

“Camila, be honest with me.”

“What about?”

“Are you regretting coming here now?”

“…A little.”

With a grim expression, Camila replied, reflecting my own unease. Who on earth threatened me with a knife to come here?

…Okay, it might have been magic instead of a knife. But still.

“We’ve arrived!”

The elderly woman announced our arrival with vigor. So that it could be clearly heard from beyond the gigantic doors.

Shizuya, the innermost place of the Azadi Palace. Many organizations, including the Royal Intelligence Department and the Military Intelligence Agency, claimed that this was Ashtistan’s most secretive space.

Hence the name ‘Citadel’ was attached.

The guide of the inner palace bowed deeply toward the inside. Even as we took steps, she didn’t budge. It looked as if she believed that space was not meant for her.

– Have you come…?

A deep and distant voice could be heard. This seemed to be both a greeting and a signal.

The enormous citadel door opened as though even carrying a couple of orcs would barely allow one to reach for the decorations above. It opened smoothly and without a sound.

It felt like a boundary. Light and sound perfectly defined a different world. Another world completely isolated from the outside, divided by a single door.

The light seeping through the gap was nowhere to be found, and only silence and darkness blanketed the interior. No, to be precise, there was something like a lamp. It seemed to shine from around 30 meters away, perhaps even farther.

…Sigh.

“Camila.”

“Yes, I’m regretting it. I already want to go home…”

“…I haven’t even asked anything yet?”

Camila looked around, trembling, her eyes expressing a feeling of ‘I’ve messed up!’ It was difficult to put that sight into words. Of course, I wasn’t exempt from feeling the same.

But one person appeared unfazed. Unlike the terrified Camila or my constantly suspicious eyes, Alexandra Petrovna took the lead and strode boldly inside.

It was not as spacious as I had expected.

Whether it was an optical illusion or a vision someone had shown me, the light source that had seemed quite distant was suddenly near upon walking just a little.

The source of the softly radiating light turned out to be an old candlestick. It wasn’t a European-style candlestick like those depicted in Les Misérables. Rather, it resembled geometric patterns and the exquisite harmony of arabesques seen a few times in Iran.

The cylindrical brass candlestick felt like a valuable antique, crafted during the Timur or Safavid empires. The collector I had encountered in Tehran had displayed items looking just like this.

Not just the candlestick, but everything in this room bore the same trait. Items that cannot be judged merely by time—things that could not be evaluated by any ordinary standard. It felt as if artifacts from the Shizuya Museum or treasures cherished at the British Empire Museum were crammed into this room.

However, nothing could compare to this person.

This woman was akin to a walking museum.

Thin wisps of smoke drifted like threads. The candlestick cast a discreet light upon her face. A faint scent of roses and sweet sharbat could be sensed.

A lady, seeming as soft as the silk bedding, lounged atop it.

– …Hoo.

With dark brown hair and chestnut eyes, this woman possessed features typical of the Arab-Persian ethnicity, leaning more towards Mizrahi than Ashkenazi.

Alexandra Petrovna took a step forward, directed at the occupant of the bed.

At that moment.

“Welcome, Sasha. I’ve been waiting for you.”

The shaman, who had been lying quietly, spoke to her old friend visiting Shizuya.

And added, “I was wondering when you would finally come.”

Rolling in her rich brown irises were two reflections: one of a woman and one of a man.

The woman smiled brightly in response.

The greatest shaman of an epoch, a powerful archmage noted in history.

A skilled individual who had risen from a mountain valley to the palace of the capital, or the unprecedented rebel who buried a thousand-year dynasty in the sand.

Also, the Priest of Al-Yabd.

“At long last, we meet.”

Zaynab Eskandari smiled at both Camila and me.

Perhaps.

*

“……”

“……”

Camila, who had been scared witless, timidly moved closer to me. Then, in an incredibly small, almost whispering voice, she murmured.

“Uh, Frederick?”

“…Yes.”

“Who… is she even talking to?”

Zaynab Eskandari, the Priest of Al-Yabd and the power behind Ashtistan.

She stood at a perpendicular angle to Camila and me, murmuring something to the void.

What’s that? Why is she looking over there? I don’t know either. This is scary as hell. Do something, oh mighty Akarat, protect me with eternal light, guide me with your holy wisdom… Can we go home, professor? I promise to use only kind words from now on…

Just then, amidst the buzz of voices.

*Thump!* The duke slapped his forehead hard, then shut his eyes tightly.

“Ah…”

Observing the friend likely defacing the wall, the hundred-year-old sighed.

“Truly, is it time to join our comrades?”

 

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