Chapter 120: The Summoning of the Lone Star of Doom

If one were to choose a single word to describe Osgilia, the imperial capital of the Byzantine Empire, that word would undoubtedly be: miracle!

Centuries ago, a renowned poet from the continent, upon first setting foot in Osgilia, expressed profound awe: “When you stand before it, all your words, all your grandiloquent expressions, suddenly seem so pale and inadequate. In that moment, my only impulse is to kneel, to prostrate myself upon the earth, and with the utmost reverence and trembling, to kiss this land, to kiss this city—a marvel crafted by the hands of mankind!”

At first glance, this city of wonders overwhelms even the most provincial visitor.

The impact is immediate and visceral, like a bucket of cold water poured over one’s head. It sweeps over you with a force that stirs every nerve and raises every hair on your body. The thrill and excitement are so intense, you feel an inexplicable urge to fall to your knees and cheer for the miracle before you.

Such was the sensation that gripped Shaya at that moment.

His mouth hung open as if to swallow an egg whole, his eyes wide and round as a bull’s.

Osigilia is perched on the shores of the Byzantine Empire’s inland sea.

Its geography resembles a colossal peninsula jutting into the ocean from the continent. It seems as if, when the gods created the world, they deliberately carved away a portion of a mountain peak on this protruding peninsula, shaping the land into a gentle slope descending toward the sea.

It is upon this singularly advantageous terrain that Osigilia was built. As a peninsula extending into the ocean, it is surrounded on three sides by water. Only the southern edge boasts a flat beach; the other two sides are guarded by sheer cliffs rising dozens of meters. The relentless tides and crashing waves, coupled with treacherous reefs and towering cliffs, form natural fortifications along the city’s eastern and northern faces. Yet, the imperial rulers deemed this insufficiently secure, and so they erected a massive wall along the cliff edge—twenty meters tall and ten meters thick. Towering bastions rise every few hundred meters, equipped with long-range ballistae and hidden barracks for the soldiers.

The walls themselves are constructed from square-cut pale blue-white stone blocks, each weighing several hundred kilograms. At their highest points, when combined with the cliff’s elevation above sea level, the fortifications soar more than a hundred meters into the sky.

Yet, this grandeur is not the most awe-inspiring aspect.

On the western side, where the peninsula connects to the mainland, stands a colossal wall regarded as the continent’s most magnificent. It slices the peninsula from the continent, marking the city’s main entrance. Averaging thirty meters in height and reaching up to fifty meters at its tallest points, this wall stretches for miles. It features twelve grand gates, among which the central one is the famed Triumphal Arch—wide enough to accommodate at least ten chariots abreast.

Each of the twelve gates is shaped with rounded arches, embodying the Byzantine architectural style. Their surfaces are adorned with magnificent sculptures depicting the empire’s legendary heroes, as if these ancient champions vigilantly guard the city’s entrance. Encircling the domed towers atop the gates are four soaring spires, each at least ten meters in diameter, housing ample troops to defend the gates.

At that moment, Shaya’s gaze was fixed upon the western wall facing the mainland.

His first reaction was disbelief: this was not just a city wall; it was a mountain range stretching endlessly along the horizon! The perfectly aligned, towering walls left him so stunned that his jaw nearly dropped.

Looking out, the wall was festooned with fluttering banners, the massive blue stones resembling a slumbering beast. Bathed in sunlight, it radiated a sacred and awe-inspiring presence.

Shaya’s amazement lingered for a full quarter of an hour. When he finally recovered, still staring at the mountain-like wall, he murmured, “Damn, how many years did the Byzantines spend building such a colossal city?”

“Forty years.” Gu Luo appeared beside him on horseback, having learned along the journey that this was Shaya’s first time in Osigilia and that he was not Byzantine.

Though this was not Gu Luo’s first visit, the Lantis man was still profoundly moved. In a low voice, he answered Shaya: “The Byzantine Empire dedicated forty years to constructing the initial scale of these walls. But to transform the city into what it is today, they spent over two hundred more years—six dynasties and more than a dozen emperors, each contributing to the city’s grandeur.”

Shaya exhaled sharply.

Two hundred and forty years… “Let’s enter through the Triumphal Arch,” Gu Luo suggested with a grin. “If it’s your first time in Osigilia, missing the Triumphal Arch would be a life’s regret. When I first passed through it, I nearly popped my eyes out.”

After traveling half a day toward the mighty city, they finally reached the base of the walls… and before Shaya lay yet another marvel!

According to Gu Luo, centuries ago, a Byzantine emperor commanded that the peninsula facing Osigilia be cut along the line of the walls, carving out a man-made canal ten miles long!

The canal’s banks were paved with marble, the riverbed plunging ten meters deep. It took sixteen years to complete. At both ends, sea inlets were created to allow seawater to flow in, turning the canal into a protective moat on Osigilia’s western side.

Even at its narrowest, the moat spans fifty meters; its widest parts exceed a hundred meters.

Beneath the twelve western gates, twelve stone bridges connect the two shores across the moat. The narrowest bridge is ten meters wide; the widest, leading to the Triumphal Arch, stretches fifty meters across.

These twelve enormous bridges form the vital links between the peninsula and the mainland.

Indeed, if these bridges were ever severed, Osigilia would effectively become an island surrounded by water.

Shaya followed the caravan to the far side of the Triumphal Arch bridge. Over centuries of commerce, a small town had grown there, bustling even more than Wildfire Town. As Shaya moved slowly through the crowd of travelers and merchants clad in colorful attire, accompanied by Byzantine soldiers in gleaming armor, he once again froze upon reaching the western bridgehead.

Two towers guard the bridge’s entrance. A company of imperial infantry is stationed here, their shiny armor and weapons reflecting the city’s wealth and discipline. The broad bridge is paved with massive square stones, flanked by rounded stone pillars forming sturdy railings.

Presenting their travel permits to the guards, the caravan proceeded amid the throngs, allowing Shaya to admire the view. The moat’s emerald waters, evidently seawater, flowed beneath the bridge’s lofty arches. Several small patrol boats with military flags cruised the canal, maintaining vigilance.

Canals stretched on both sides, and from a distance, other bridges and gates barely discernible on the horizon only added to the overwhelming sight.

Standing beneath the Triumphal Arch, Shaya sighed once more. Despite having seen many wonders before, his capacity for awe had grown, yet the first time beholding this gateway still left him dumbfounded.

The arch consists of three vaulted gates. The central arch rises fifty meters high. Gazing upward from within, one might imagine it was built not for mortals but for the gods themselves.

The stones of the rounded arch are impeccably set—no blemish or protrusion mars their perfect symmetry.

Above the arch, the towering gatehouses reach toward the clouds, flying myriad banners. Flanking the gate are two projecting subsidiary towers. Altogether, these fortifications ensure that, in times of war, each gatehouse could swiftly transform into an impregnable fortress.

A legendary Byzantine commander once said, “Even if I commanded a million troops with endless supplies, besieging this mighty city would be a nightmare.”

Gu Luo sighed softly nearby.

Shaya glanced at the stout man beside him.

Just then, as Shaya emerged from the Triumphal Arch on horseback, a familiar voice rang out from nearby. “Ah-ha! You little provincial! I’ve been waiting for you all these days. Finally, you’ve arrived!”

Looking left, Shaya saw a few soldiers in light armor surrounding a stocky man with a broad, fleshy face and a protruding belly, grinning oddly. The man laughed heartily, standing in the street facing Shaya.

“General Rul!” Shaya jumped from his horse and pushed through the crowd to greet him. Rul grabbed Shaya’s shoulder and pounded his chest. “Damn it, you took so long to get here—you nearly drove me mad!”

Shaya observed Rul’s attire: the general had shed his military uniform in favor of a noble’s light warrior robe, a large ruby ring gleaming on his finger and polished boots glistening as if fit for a lord.

Rul eyed the Lantis men and the Wolf Fang Brigade behind Shaya, frowning slightly. “Lantis? How did you end up with a bunch of pirates?”

Shaya smiled. “Met them on the road… And you seem well, looking healthier than when we parted.”

Rul’s face fell, and he spat harshly. Pulling Shaya aside, he whispered, “Damn! I’ve been losing sleep and nearly suicidal lately! This time, luck’s really run out. When I returned to the capital, the military command issued an order that nearly scared me to death!”

“What order?”

“This!” Rul puffed out his chest, adopting a fierce expression. “My command of the Sixth Legion has been revoked! The military command has reassigned me! My new post is… the thirteenth cavalry corps commander! Understand, kid? I’m now your direct superior—the new arrogant general, the leader of the Rodria Cavalry!”

Shaya froze. His expression twisted oddly as he struggled to suppress a shout. His voice hoarse, he managed, “You mean… you replaced General Adric? You…”

Rul’s cocky grin vanished. He scratched the excess flesh on his face and muttered, “I don’t know if the command’s lost its mind. They call me ‘Rabbit General,’ and now they want me to command the thirteenth legion?”

“Rabbit… leading… lions…” Shaya rolled his eyes.

Then he remembered something. “What about General Adric?”

“That guy?” Rul cursed under his breath. “Your old boss is in trouble now…”

Shaya’s eyes widened, but Rul quickly hushed him, “Don’t panic! He got promoted! He’s now Deputy Minister of Military Affairs—basically the empire’s number two, at least in title.”

“Promoted?” Shaya didn’t quite grasp the trouble but felt reassured by Adric’s advancement. He smiled and focused back on Rul. “So you’re my new boss. But I’m curious—can you really handle the thirteenth cavalry? You’re good at running away, but fighting…”

Rul glared and shouted, “Shut up, kid! I’m your superior now! Watch yourself, or I’ll demote you to labor camp!”

Then, with a sigh, the stout man looked Shaya in the eye and said quietly, “I’m waiting for you here because of that very thing… I knew you’d come through the Triumphal Arch. Everyone does the first time.”

He paused before sighing again. “I’d like to be your boss, but it seems you won’t stay with the thirteenth legion long…”

Shaya was silent.

He felt a twinge of resentment. He had no real loyalty to the empire but found brotherhood among the thirteenth legion’s men. Being transferred elsewhere to serve the empire? Not a chance.

If they moved me, I’m stripping off this uniform and going home to be a hunter.

Rul, ever perceptive, noticed the raised eyebrow and guessed Shaya’s thoughts. He quickly reassured him, “It might not be bad. We’ll discuss it later. For now, say your goodbyes. Then come with me—I’ll explain everything in detail.”

Recognizing the bustling street was no place for a serious talk, Shaya nodded and greeted Gu Luo, who smiled and bowed. “Lord Shaya, it’s been an honor traveling with you. Don’t forget, you have a friend in the Galans Merchant Guild here. We’re heading to their base in Osigilia. If you have time, settle in and send someone to find me—we’re comrades now.”

Shaya readily agreed. Gu Luo gave the guild’s address, though it was famous enough that a simple inquiry would suffice.

After Gu Luo’s group departed, Afrekate approached Shaya, offering, “Lord Shaya, let’s first register at the Warrior’s Guild for the grand tournament, then find lodging nearby. We’ll likely stay at the Old Lighthouse Inn near the southern docks—a well-known spot. You can send someone to contact me anytime.”

Shaya nodded, carefully noting the address. “Good. Once I’m settled, I’ll send word tomorrow.”

The Lantis and Wolf Fang warriors departed. General Rul lingered at a distance, exuding the bearing of a high-ranking noble officer.

When all had left, Rul mounted and rode off with Shaya.

“I’ll be frank, kid, your situation’s complicated,” Rul confided on the road. “The emperor has ordered that once you report in, you must immediately enter the palace for an audience.

“The emperor wants to see you personally… I can’t say if that’s good or bad. Hopefully good, since you took out that pretty boy Bonfret. But the palace is dangerous—watch out for the crown prince. Though, I hear the prince’s been holed up at his eastern suburban palace lately, so you might avoid him.”

Seeing Shaya’s indifferent expression, Rul sighed. “That’s not the main issue. Someone’s already contacted me with instructions. Once you arrive in the capital, you’re to meet this person immediately. He wants a good look at you.”

“Who? Who wants to see me?”

“Kavishil.” Rul shivered as he spoke the name, his bulky face clouded with fear. His voice dropped to a serious whisper. “Listen up, kid. Even if you anger the emperor, offend the crown prince, or piss off the military brass, your military achievements can shield you somewhat. But Kavishil? You must be especially careful.”

“Oh? Who is this guy? Is he that scary?”

Rul glanced nervously around, as if fearful someone might overhear and relay his words to Kavishil himself. “I can’t say exactly how scary he is. Here’s what I’ll tell you: many hate Kavishil in the capital—royalty, clergy, the military, the senate. Yet, despite decades of enmity, he still thrives, growing more powerful.”

Rul paused deliberately, then continued: “But anyone who crosses him… ends up lying on Glory Hill.”

“Glory Hill…” Shaya recalled, vaguely. “Isn’t that the largest cemetery outside Osigilia?”

Rul’s final words weighed heavily on Shaya. “No exceptions in all these years.”

Shaya’s expression darkened.

“Who exactly is this Kavishil, and why does he want to see me?” Shaya asked.

Rul gave a brief explanation of Kavishil’s position.

“Oh? The emperor’s most trusted strategist?” Shaya frowned. “Why would he want to see me? I’m just a minor player. Even with my merits, I doubt he cares.”

“That’s my worry,” said Rul with concern. “The problem isn’t whether he knows you. It’s that anyone who gets involved with Kavishil ends up unlucky.”

Rul wiped cold sweat from his brow. “He’s over fifty, lost his wife, his children died young, and all his relatives and friends are dead. I suspect anyone connected to him is cursed! Even our emperor—because they’re friends—suffers from chronic illness, and his only son has turned into… a rabbit! Damn!”

“Holy hell! That bad?” Shaya’s color changed. “A true harbinger of doom.”

Shaya looked at Rul and asked, “When am I supposed to meet this… this harbinger?”

“Now.” Rul sighed and pointed ahead. “That road leads to Kavishil’s home. He sent word you must meet him as soon as you arrive.”

Shaya exploded, “You fat bastard! You waited until now to tell me? Damn… I need to prepare before facing such a dangerous man! You… you scoundrel!”

“Sorry, brother,” Rul wiped his brow again. “I couldn’t refuse Kavishil’s order. I don’t want to be on his bad side. I’m still in my prime—I don’t want to be resting on Glory Hill just yet.”

—End of sixteen-thousand-word explosive chapter. Please summon your votes!

I’ve just pulled an all-nighter and now have dark circles under my eyes. From now on, please call me “Panda Xiao Wu”! Wahaha!