Lugdunum: Silent Path of the Orionis

AUTHOR POV.

The journey from Hallerbos had been grueling, their bodies weighed down by fatigue, dirt caking their skin, and the pungent smell of forest still clinging to their clothes.

After days of relentless travel, Yacha, Ursang, Eline, and Speira finally stood before the towering gates of Lugdunum, the capital city of Gaul. The stone walls loomed, proud and impenetrable, while soldiers clad in chainmail and surcoats marked with a spearhead emblem stood vigilant at the entrance.

Their armor was tarnished from years of service, but their swords and shields gleamed, ready to defend at a moment's notice. One of them, a regular soldier, stepped forward, his face contorted with disdain. 

Behind him, an imposing knight sat tall on a steed, his polished plate armor reflecting the last rays of the sun. The intricate designs etched into his armor bore the symbols of his noble house. His presence alone seemed to instill fear in the surrounding guards, their backs straightening in his shadow.

YACHA POV.

Gaul, we finally at this land yet as I gazed upon the armored soldiers before us, there was something oddly unsettling. Their armor was unlike Akkadia's, a strange mix of chainmail and emblazoned symbols that I didn't understand. We approached the gate, our footsteps heavy from the long trek. I tried to remain composed as I stepped forward, my companions behind me. 

"We seek entry into the city," I said, trying to sound diplomatic.

The soldier's eyes scanned us with a sneer of disgust.

"Filthy kids, this is Lugdunum, the capital of Gaul. You think you belong here?" His tone dripped with arrogance as he lifted his boot, kicking me with force. I barely shifted, his attempt laughable against my strength.

For a brief moment, our eyes locked, and I allowed a fraction of my aura to slip free. His face paled, and in an instant, he drew his sword, stepping into an attack position. The other guards stiffened, alerted by his sudden movement.

I forced a smile, playing innocent. "My apologies, sir. We mean no harm."

Ursang, sensing the tension, stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Forgive my brother, sir. He's harmless. We're only passing through."

The soldier's sneer returned. "Mannerless brats. Leave now, or I'll have no choice but to kill you."

His gaze shifted suddenly, catching sight of Eline and Speira, who had stayed back. A lecherous grin spread across his face.

"But wait… What do we have here? A pair of lovely girls. I'll make you a deal, boy. Let me and my comrades have a little fun with them, and I'll grant you entry."

Before he could blink, Ursang had twisted his arm in a blur of motion, and I leaped into the air, delivering a swift kick to his head. The combined force of our attack sent him crashing back into the gate, unconscious before he even realized what happened.

The clatter of swords followed as dozens of soldiers surrounded us, their weapons drawn, faces filled with anger and confusion.

A voice boomed from behind the soldiers. "LOWER YOUR SWORDS!"

A man in his mid-thirties, mounted on a horse, pushed through the crowd. His aura was strong, not as overwhelming as we'd seen before, but formidable enough to make us wary. He studied us with a raised brow.

"Young kids," he began.

"why did you do that? And more curiously, how did children like you manage to bring down one of my guards so easily?"

Before I could respond, Eline stepped forward, her eyes brimming with fake tears. "Please, sir,"

she said, her voice trembling, "we're orphans. My brothers only know how to defend us from men like that who… who try to take advantage of us."

Speira joined her, her expression full of sorrow. "Please, kind master. Spare my brothers. They were only trying to protect us from the filthy demands of that man."

Ursang and I exchanged glances, stunned by their flawless performances. They grasped our arms, pulling us into a bow, begging for forgiveness while pleading to return to the forest where they said it was safer.

The knight dismounted, gesturing for us to stop. He walked over to the unconscious soldier, waking him with a shake. As the soldier came to, he sputtered and screamed threats at us, swearing revenge. But his tirade was cut short by a punch to the gut, followed by another to the face.

"You disgrace your station," the knight growled.

"talking to children like that. You're a walking shame."

Turning back to us, the knight removed his helmet, revealing a stern but fair face. He bowed his head.

"I am Knight Cedro of the House of Lyon. Please, accept my deepest apologies for the behavior of my man. You are welcome to rest at my home, a token of chivalry and recompense."

After a few hours, we reached a small stone manor on the outskirts of the city, with a single tower jutting into the sky. We rested for two days, accepting Cedro's hospitality, though the urgency of our mission weighed on us.

As we prepared to leave, Cedro stopped us. "Wait."

We turned, and I could see the question burning in his eyes.

"There's something strange about you four,"

he said slowly. "I can't shake the feeling that you're not just children. There's something… off."

Ursang stepped forward, his voice calm. "And what exactly do you mean, Sir Cedro?"

"Your auras," Cedro replied, "they're too strong. You feel like soldiers. Skilled ones."

Trying to mask my unease, I smiled. "Master Cedro, we're just travelers. Homeless kids wandering the lands of the gods."

But I could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn't convinced.

"Among other things…"

Cedro's voice trailed off as his gaze lifted to the darkening sky. The first stars began to glimmer faintly on the dusky horizon, like distant whispers of forgotten hopes. His tone grew somber, and he turned back to face us, his eyes heavy with a burden long carried.

"This land is corrupted,"

he continued. "The noble houses pay fewer taxes while the common folk shoulder the weight. The royal family's greed knows no bounds. The law—it's no more than a weapon, used to oppress those too poor to defend themselves, or those who oppose. I'm seeking a change."

His words hung in the air, laden with the weight of his conviction. He studied us carefully, his expression unreadable.

"Wherever you come from, you don't have this…not yet. But you've been raised as though the weight of the world rests on your shoulders."

Cedro's gaze was piercing, and for a moment, it seemed like he could see through every mask we wore.

Ursang, ever perceptive, gave a slight nod of understanding

. "I'll let Yacha fight you," he offered.

His voice steady. "One blow, just one. You, Sir Cedro, do your best to hold yourself against him."

Cedro's brow furrowed in disbelief, his thoughts almost audible as he questioned who we were.

"Who are these children? How can they be so confident against a knight?" he murmured under his breath.

Yet, despite his confusion, a part of him seemed curious, even intrigued.

"Fine by me," Cedro answered.

Resolved to tighten his grip on his sword. With a smooth motion, he threw a spare blade at me, its metal gleaming in the fading light, and then drew his own sword from its ornate scabbard, white as bone and lined with shimmering mana stones.

I caught the sword mid-air, feeling its weight in my hand. Setting my feet apart, I prepared for the coming clash, positioning myself with precision. I had no intention of using magic—it wasn't needed for this.

Cedro's form blurred for a moment as he reinforced himself with mana. The signal was clear: it was time. Without warning, he launched himself at me, faster than I expected, his speed enhanced by the mana coursing through his veins. His sword came at me horizontally, a sweeping strike filled with all the strength of a seasoned warrior.

I stood my ground. The impact of his swing met my blade with a resounding clash, and though the force pushed me back slightly, I deflected his strike, sending his sword off course with a powerful whiplash. The air between us cracked with the sheer force of the deflection, but before Cedro could react, my sword was already at his throat, a small cut forming on the side of his neck—a mere warning.

He froze, realizing he had lost. Slowly, Cedro exhaled, lowering his sword in defeat. "You win," he said quietly, his voice thick with both admiration and disbelief.

"Who are you, kid? I swear on my title as a knight of the Lyon family, I'll take your secret to my grave."

I straightened, sheathing my sword, my voice steady and full of the pride that came with my name.

"Yacha of Akkadia, Orionis Elite Division from the Seiken Army."

Cedro's eyes widened in shock, recognition dawning in his expression. His lips parted, and for a moment, he struggled to speak.

"You're far from home…" he muttered.

his voice hushed. "The Eastern killing machines."

He stepped back, his demeanor shifting. Slowly, he turned his head, as if he could scarcely believe who stood before him.

"Normally, I'd raise an alarm—send up a flare to alert the city. The Akkadian barbarians, here, for an invasion. But I see now you have another goal in mind."

"Skara Brae Village is our destination," Ursang spoke firmly, cutting through the tension.

Cedro chuckled softly, shaking his head as if he had heard a private joke.

"So… Sigurd caught Sargon's attention, huh?" 

"Maybe," Ursang replied, his words deliberately vague.

The knight sat down on the ground with a heavy sigh, rubbing his brow.

"Well, go on then. The harbor is just half an hour from here. I don't want to look at you kids anymore. But…" he paused, meeting our eyes once more.

"I'll keep my word. I made a promise in my family's honor, and I'll see it through. I won't tell anyone about you."

With that, Cedro rose and turned, walking back towards his manor without another word.

True to his directions, half an hour later we reached the harbor. There, we found the ship we had carefully selected—one that would take us to the land of Goidi. As per our orders, we avoided the kingdoms of Albion, making our way toward our next destination in silence, the weight of our mission pulling us ever forward.