"No one's coming, boss."

Despite his warrior's shout, Corco remained motionless, his arms still rested on the railing of their ship. With a sigh, he stared at the worn-down letter in his hands, the one he had received some six months ago. His father, Emperor Titu Pluritac of the Medala Empire, was dead. That's what the letter's mysterious author had told him.

Although Corco had planned his return from overseas long ago, it wasn't supposed to be like this. In truth, he had wanted to show off, to take all those achievements from the past seven years and throw them into the old man's face. Even though he knew that it was petty, and that he had better things to do, the prince still wanted to show the emperor that he had been wrong. Corco realized that he was being unfair to a father who had always tried his best. That he had far more important, far grander goals to accomplish back home. Still, he could not shake off the notion that his perfect return had been ruined. The blemish made him uneasy about things to come.

“Laqhis.”

The warrior's second call ripped Corco out of his thoughts. At last he looked up from the letter and focused on the dilapidated little harbor they had moored to. After a few seconds, his gaze went back up, to the man who had tried to gain his attention. A high head on top of wide shoulders, an honest looking, rectangular face and arms like logs. His companion looked like the personification of the dim, gentle giant stereotype.

“No one's coming,” the tall man repeated.

"It isn't 'boss'. You should use 'lord', or 'master' maybe. And no more nicknames, Fadelio. Etiquette didn't matter until now, but a warrior who talks to his lord without 'respect' will always find some old bats ready to impeach him. I'd rather not see you lose your head over a name."

"...Master Corco, no one is coming."

His eyes once again focused on the picturesque fishing village before him, Corco nodded his head.

"Yeah, seems like the local lord wants to prepare fully before he welcomes us home."

"Master Corco, the messenger we've sent hasn't been back yet."

"To do it right, you know? With all honors."

"Master Corco, it has been three hours," Fadelio's tense voice urged.

A deep sigh escaped Corco's throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't just joke reality away.

"You and Atau should go prepare the landing then. And show some energy. It's our first steps into our great empire. Gotta look good."

Corco's eyes followed Fadelio as he put down the visor of his heavy plate armor and walked down the plank. In his march, he was accompanied by another figure, smaller in stature but also dressed in the distinct armor of the foreign knights of Arcavia. As further reinforcements, six mercenaries in chain mail and leather followed along. Once more on solid ground, the men lined up in two rows of honor and raised the banner of Medala's imperial family: A silver triquetra on blue. His entrance prepared, Corco finally strode onto his homeland once more. His head raised in majesty, the king observed his ancestral lands, the ones he would soon come to rule himself, just like his father had done.

With great care, the crown prince took in the run down wooden pier they had landed on, the old-familiar row of oblong wooden houses on stilts and, in the distance, the old cobbled castle atop Ceros Hill. While the prince was focused on the lord's manor in the distance, some fishermen to the side had interrupted their work on the nets, instead deciding to stare at the spectacle before them with skeptical looks. Under a barrage of obscene curses, a dog ran away with the lunch it had taken from a beggar, just as the man had been distracted by the landing party. The wind blew cold. No one else noticed the return of the crown prince and rightful heir to the Medala Empire.

"The populace seems unimpressed, Prince Corco," the shorter of the two knights chimed in.

"They are clearly awed into silence," answered the mercenary's employer, unperturbed. "Dedrick, you stay behind and secure the area around the ships for a landing. Fadelio follows me. We're going shopping."

"Shopping, Master?" the man mountain asked with a dull face.

Corco looked down the straight main road, towards the inner city gate which waited at its end and signified an insurmountable gap for most people on the other side.

"...we're headed towards the castle. Let's survey the town."

After Corco and his company had left behind the dreary shantytown which surrounded the harbor, the town of Porcero began to present a somewhat livelier look. Underneath the overhangs of the plain wood houses and throughout the cobbled main road, a young boy chased after his friends in play. They passed by the strange visitors without taking notice.

A few houses down, a fisherman from the harbor tried to sell his wares to a businessman. Despite the simple green wool robes worn by the potential buyer, he was a very rich man, as evidenced by the restaurant which formed the backdrop for their haggling. All windows of the airy three story stone construction were covered with paper, a sign that the owner didn't mind splurging wherever he could.

Up above, the construction was topped off with one of the rounded roofs which had been so familiar to Corco in his youth. Further along, a young, stout woman was leading her servant into the chaotic side roads and towards the common market near the harbor. Unlike the previous merchant, her own wealth and status could be seen right away from her solid silver necklace and the thick silk cord around her white, flowing dress.

Despite the size of their armed group, dressed in the armors, pants and vests of the east, none of the townsfolk showed any special reaction towards Corco. However, all of these familiar sights and sounds evoked so much feeling inside the prince, so much longing he hadn't been aware of that he failed to even notice. Only when he found something incongruous with the familiar picture did he regain his senses. In the front yard of a tea house, two old scholars with long, neat beards and white robes played a board game, while their young disciple observed from the side.

"Who dares!"

No matter how unusual the scholars were in a town like Porcero, the strange new faces only held Corco's interest for a moment, before a shout demanded all the attention for itself. Once the call was followed by the sound of shuffling feet and clangs of metal, the prince turned away from the chess players, over to his own men. Over there, a warrior in full armament had fallen victim to Fadelio's strength. The young man wore lamellar armor over a long, red tunic with an ax and small shield by his side, typical for a member of his social class. Held to the ground by Fadelio's ludicrous strength, the youngster still flailed about, his long, tied hair and silver earrings dancing in the dirty street.

Although Corco was about to have the warrior released, not interested in what sort of minor issue had caused the fight, the warrior was very much up to the fight.

"Unhand me barbarian! Or feel the wrath of House Petrocilius!"

Despite his best efforts, the young warrior in red failed to get back up off the ground. After all, how could a simple warrior stand up to Fadelio, the son of a great general?

"For heaven's sake, don't rough up our people five minutes off the boat. Please let him go."

Determined to make a good first impression on his people, Corco jumped in to save the warrior. Now that he looked at him, the warrior seemed more like a kid, certainly not a fully grown man. Meanwhile, the child soldier himself seemed baffled at Corco's words.

"Yakua? Who are you?"

Of course the warrior wouldn't understand how a group who looked so much like outsiders could speak his own language so well, so Corco returned a nod, before he began to play with the silver emblem around his neck.

"Look closely, friend, and see the truth.”

At last the warrior's eyes went first towards Corco's face, and then down, to the prince's pendant.

"That's the triquetra! You are..."

"My name is Crown Prince Corcopaca Titu Pluritac and I have come home to lead our people onto the path to glory."

Self-satisfied, Corco could finally release the words which had been stuck on the tip of his tongue since he left that boat. However, after all the indifference from before, the prince was still shocked by the warrior's sudden enthusiasm.

"Prince Corco, if it truly is your honorable self who has returned from exile, then there may be hope yet. But the matters in Medala are not as prince would suspect. Prince Corco has been declared dead just weeks ago and House Pluritac has begun to gift away the achievements of our ancestors to foreign barbarians... not dissimilar to the men in prince's company," the young man finished with a suspicious look towards Corco's guard. However, the prince had no time to worry about the warrior's slight, so he preempted their outrage with his own.

"Dead?! Wait, wait, wait...wait." Corco squinted his eyes and intently stared at nothing, while he tried to make sense of the new information. Progress was slow.

"Prince..." the warrior tried again.

"Wait!... I don't understand a word. I'm quite sure that my departure was framed as a trip to study abroad, at least officially. I haven't been exiled, pretty much ever. Not only was I never exiled, I am also very much alive, at least as far as I can tell. And how exactly could my family give away what they don't own? Can you just change the laws if you're shameless enough? There is a limit to shamelessness, right? What the fuck is going on here?"

"Prince Corco, it may be unwise to speak here. However, as you are the rightful heir to the silver crown, it would be this young master's honor to invite Prince to the Petrocilius Estate inside Porcero. Primus Vitus Petrocilius apologizes for his late greeting. Any questions Prince Corco may have should wait until then."

After his abrupt introduction, Primus gave a short sideways glance to the scholars and their board game, before he marched off in the opposite direction of his original route, back towards the castle. Meanwhile, Corco was too busy with his own thoughts to acknowledge the young master of the noble House Petrocilius any further. There was much information to chew through, and many things to reconsider.

"Master, what shall we do?"

In response to Fadelio's question, Corco gave the still unfazed scholars a closer inspection. Even though all the passers-by who had previously ignored Corco's group had halted and began to stare, now aware of their identity, the scholars still seemed deeply immersed in their game. Unnatural, considering all the excitement the front of their little play area had just witnessed. However, unlike his elders, their young apprentice gave a nervous glance before he hastily zeroed in on the board as well. Back in the capital, seven years ago, the crown prince had seen the scholars, men devoted to spread the knowledge and culture of the western Chutwa Empire. Though seven years ago, these scholars would never have gone to a far off place like Porcero.

"Let's continue to the castle for now,” the prince said after his stare had failed to bear any fruit. “We should collect our own information first and I don't wanna stand here until a crowd forms. Also, we should show our banners by now. I wanted to avoid noise at first, but avoiding conflict seems more important. I aim to be a king of peace, after all."

"Yes, Master Corco."

After they had left earshot of the board game, Corco moved close to Fadelio, looked up and asked, "So who exactly are House Petrocilius?"

"They're just a small family, Master. At least that's how it used to be seven years ago. They own a few vineyards along the eastern hills, but much of their land has poor fertility. They are a typical eastern estate."

"So that makes them what? Backwards and conservative? They seemed more than willing to work with a dead exile, so something weird is going on. Someone in the capital might be working on reforms. Which is odd, considering the empire has no ruler right now... So who does the reforming then? Nothing makes sense somehow. We need more info... oh, also, vineyards? That's oddly convenient."

"It is, Master," Fadelio replied with a sly grin.

As they talked, their group closed in on the sloped wall of irregular stones which separated the noble quarters from the rest of the city.

"I guess we'll soon find out what stance Lord Saliena of Porcero has on this reform/dead prince issue," Corco muttered as he looked ahead towards the heavy wooden gate which would lead them inside the wall and towards the owner of the city.

"Halt!"

Upon further approach, one of the gate's guards stepped forward, his spear at the ready. The aggressive action sparked an equal and opposite reaction from Fadelio.

"Do you not see the banners of House Pluritac, you idiot!? Remove your weapon and move aside!"

The guard retorted by holding the party at spear point instead, sneer included.

"I see only the colors of a dead man, carried by an outsider. Clearly you are impostors! Lay down your arms and surrender, before things get ugly for you."

Armed with his supreme confidence, Corco sized up the opposition. A smile slowly formed on his lips as inside his head, a plan formed to get him all the information he needed. Some ruckus would be enough to bring out the local lord, or his goons. At that point, Corco could simply ask him.

"Fadelio."

"Yes Master Corco."

"Go make a path."

"With pleasure Master Corco."

Fadelio mimicked the grin of his master as he slowly moved his enormous, iron-clad mass towards the opposition.

"Stop or prepare to offend Governor Saliena! You entire lot will lose your heads!"

A second guard in the back shouted in a self-assured manner as he took half a step towards his hapless companion to act as reinforcements, moral and otherwise.

While Fadelio brought down the visor of his helmet, ready to charge, Corco replied in a cool voice.

"Seems like that's my problem, so I'll decline the advice, thank you. We'll deal with the governor ourselves, if it comes to that."

In reaction to his master's word, Fadelio ran ahead. Lost in a blur of motion, the warrior closed the distance between himself and the first loud-mouth guard, propelled by his superhuman strength. Wide-eyed, the guard could only watch as the cultivator sidestepped the threatening spear point with an ease no normal man of his weight and armor could muster. Now that the warrior had reached the flank of the still shock-frozen guard, he grabbed his opponent's forearms and swung him around like a child. One rotation, and another, until, with a violent shout, Fadelio released the helpless guard towards the wall he was sworn to protect. With a loud clatter and an uncomfortable crunch, the guard smashed against the hard stone surface. When his leg first made contact, an inhuman shriek escaped his throat and filled the streets. Bent in an unnatural angle, the guard cowered over his leg, in a subconsciuos effort to protect it, a gut-wrenching view.

"I yield!"

Before they had shown their resolve, the second guard had pretended confidence, but now his weapon dropped and was replaced by a film of sweat on the man's palms and forehead. In the meantime, two more guards had moved around the corner and now stopped to look on in shock as a giant, iron-plated monster ran towards their companion. The beast grabbed onto the man's face and smashed his head into the opened gate with a disturbing, visceral crunch. Dazed, unconscious or dead, the guard slid down the gate to reveal a bloodied dent in the wood behind him. Now that Fadelio had finished his work, he opened his visor and spat on the ground in contempt. He spared no glance to the remaining guards as he proceeded through the gateway. In response, the reinforcements could not even muster a single word of protest as they shuffled to the side to make way. Within moments, the screams of Fadelio's first victim had been reduced to a whimper.

Goddamnit, always overdoing things!

Flustered by his servant's extreme actions, Corco hastened towards the scene and kneeled down next to the guard by the gate. Head injuries were usually the most dangerous, so the man with the broken leg could wait.

"Hey, can you talk? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"What?"

The guard blinked a few times, his eyes unfocused. At least he was still alive and conscious. Corco tried to keep his calm as he waved his hand in front of the guard's face.

"How many fingers!?”

At last the eyes in Corco's front cleared, and the man reacted to the silly question with a frown.

"...Three."

Satisfied with the response, Corco got up and faced the other guards, the two who had huddled together and stared at his bizarre actions in fear. Though the crown prince hadn't planned their entry to become this violent, he pretended to be calm. No matter what, his plan was still on course, somewhat.

"Well, at least he's conscious and his vision seems fine. You, nameless minions. Make sure to properly bandage his head to stop the bleeding... and don't move him around too much. Go easy on him for a bit, he is probably concussed."

After he had done his due to help the man and ease his own conscience, Corco walked through the gate after Fadelio, followed by the rest of his guard. For a moment he thought, before he turned again.

"And for goodness sake", he added towards the guards, "just make way next time. I don't know what the governor pays you, but it's probably not worth getting killed over."

While he walked off towards the waiting Fadelio, the prince whispered to the mercenary next to him.

"Go back to the ship and tell Atau to get ready for landing. Just in case we don't make it back by dusk."

"Yes sire."

The man replied with a stern face and a loose salute before he rushed off, back through the gate and towards the harbor.

Meanwhile, Corco was busy complaining to Fadelio.

"You don't think you overdid it? You could have killed someone."

"I hate cowards who feign strength yet hide behind someone bigger. Those small-time crooks deserved everything they got. Besides, I properly held back. Didn't kill anyone." Even though he had always honored the warrior code of Medala more than even his own life, Fadelio's actions still seemed extreme. Maybe Corco's attendant was even more upset about their lousy reception than his master.

"At least the harsh entry serves our purpose... we really should get dressed for the next act though. People keep treating me like an outsider and it's starting to piss me off."

Rather than chide his warrior, Corco used his talent for changing the subject to avoid an awkward and pointless debate on ethics. Instead, he moved towards one of the shops built along the very edge of the inner wall, to hunt for a new outfit. Behind him, the wails of the warriors had disappeared already. Their great return had only just begun.