Chapter Thirty-Seven: Negotiations Between Land and Sea (Part One)

This was a splendid carriage, drawn by two horses and adorned with ornate decorations on the outside, while the interior was cozy and warm. By the standards of the Faisian people, the Sirens appeared somewhat slender and frail—they admired the robust, Herculean type of beauty epitomized by Pompey and revered the Sirens more out of respect for royal tradition and strength. Yet, by human standards, Sirens—regardless of gender—were all strikingly beautiful.

Helen’s long, lithe figure, sculpted by her daily swimming, paired with the subtle changes of a maiden just entering her prime, was more than enough to send most human men into a daze, eager to become her devoted admirers. Once it was all but confirmed that Helen was most likely the lost princess the Faisians sought, Warrenheit implored Raven to persuade her to accompany the negotiation delegation to Herdasyn.

Raven managed, with great effort, to convince Helen. Warrenheit had braced himself for the willful princess to demand a hefty ransom, but in the end, he breathed a sigh of relief. Unfamiliar with the ways of the human world, Helen was unsure what demands to make, so she settled on a few requests that were almost laughable: she wanted beautiful dresses, lovely jewelry, and expressed a reluctance to travel all the way to Herdasyn. Ever since coming ashore, the little Siren princess had developed a fascination for the splendid human garments and ornaments. Compared to the undersea finery—coral, shells, and pearl attire—the human items were inferior in material, but far superior in design and style.

Warrenheit gladly accommodated her childish demands, but there was one request that proved more troublesome: she asked that they find a man named Wei Wuji, an Easterner. Recent intelligence from Euclid and others indicated that this man had appeared near Gaul and, for reasons unknown, had escorted Hegel all the way. In some respects, he was a likely enemy. However, if the rumors were true that the little princess had been bewitched by a human man, then perhaps he was the fortunate suitor in question. If so, it would be inconvenient to dispose of him right away—better to wait until an agreement was reached with the Faisians. Of course, this was not something to be shared with the Faisian princess, for if she, in her capriciousness, decided to turn back to Gaul, all of Warrenheit’s careful plotting with the Faisians would be thrown into jeopardy.

Raven accompanied Helen on the journey to Herdasyn. Ahead of their carriage was another, less lavishly decorated, broader and somewhat timeworn. This was Councilor Kidd’s style—he favored practicality. On long journeys, he liked to recline in his carriage for a short rest. Around the carriages were several hundred guards, including a company of cuirassiers and a battalion of light cavalry, as well as a special unit of cavalry—about two companies in all—each equipped with purpose-designed carbines, a new kind of flintlock made for firing from horseback. These guns used the latest Minié balls, which Hegel himself called Hegel bullets, though the Landian Ordnance Department had officially named them Minié balls, supposedly after a name dreamed up by a department librarian who was rewarded a bonus for it.

Each musketeer cavalryman carried three firearms: the flintlock carbine always in hand, a spare carbine slung on the back, and a pistol at the waist—a compact weapon developed by the armory, though less powerful and with shorter range than the long gun. At the first sign of distant enemies, they would use the long guns; as the distance closed, they would use the spare carbine or pistol. When all three were spent and there was no time to reload, they could turn to their sabers—specially forged for efficient hacking and slashing.

Helen was quite content along the journey. Besides the garments and jewels she wore, Warrenheit had sent a whole carriage loaded with clothes and ornaments, and even installed a half-height mirror for her. Each day, when not sleeping or chatting with Raven, the princess spent her time in the carriage, trying on beautiful dresses. The knights guarding the carriage often found themselves distracted during these moments.

Thus, half by coaxing and half by deception, Helen was brought from Valencia to Herdasyn. Since they traveled with urgency and bore secret government orders, the relay stations were compelled to provide fresh horses, as stipulated when the government first sold the commercial rights to private operators. The agreement specified that, in times of national need, anyone with a government mandate could requisition the facilities, overriding commercial contracts. Refusal was not permitted; otherwise, not only would the agreement be void, but the owner would also face trial for obstructing official duties.

Thanks to the relay stations, what would have been a journey of over two days by fast carriage was reduced to just a day and a half. The secret delegation entered Herdasyn discreetly.

At this time, Herdasyn had been forcibly split in two. The half by the sea was occupied by the Faisians, while the inland half—originally also in their hands—had been reclaimed when Landia’s First Army, Second Division arrived. The Faisians, seeking the return of their princess as a sign of good faith, withdrew from that sector.

The Faisians, it seemed, had not yet fully adapted to their new bodies. The lower halves conjured by Hermes’ magic circles were modeled after humans, resulting in the appearance of organs the Faisians had never possessed. Consequently, some Faisians who were in heat found it difficult to control themselves, which tarnished their reputation.

Aside from this minor flaw, the Faisians were, strictly speaking, much kinder than human pirates. They did not slaughter or burn wantonly, only dealing harshly with those who dared to resist. Pillaging, however, was a daily occurrence—or rather, it was more like dining at others’ expense. At first, the Faisians scoffed at human cuisine, believing nothing could surpass the taste of oysters and fish. But after someone unwittingly tasted human food, their opinion changed at once—especially when it came to a liquid called wine, which they adored. At first, they stormed into taverns and inns, seizing delicacies. Soon, they discovered that hot food was tastier, and that good food paired best with drink and lively company. So they began to settle in the eateries to dine in leisure. The innkeepers tried to shut their doors, but the Faisians forbade it; any who dared to close shop were beaten half to death and ordered to reopen, all to ensure the Faisians could continue to feast at will.