It was a miracle that Dorma and Din had managed to travel so far west without attracting the attention of wandering Demons. As expected, it appeared that most of them were marching south from the Henklomeon Steppe, sparing fringe countries such as Anjima and the Lunar Dominion for a time. But it wouldn't be long before the nefarious machinations of Crucibles--massive, glowing furnaces which spewed Demons out by the thousands, would overwhelm even the most prepared of nations. Dorma had already assumed that Barion, who had more than likely travelled to the where the greatest concentrations of Demons would be located, was almost certainly somewhere on the Steppe. So why was it that she and Din were instead travelling west, towards the mountainous stretches of Anjima?
"We're to meet someone who I believe can aid humanity against the Demon invasion." Was the answer she had given to Din, who was worried that the two of them were wasting time with detours. Even so, she understood the importance of time, having lived through a Demon Age of her own, and became reluctant to camp in the wilderness. She had explained to Din that the possibility of a Demon ambush was too great, but it was clear from her tone that she was more worried about the time they would waste than anything else. When Anjima's dirt highways forced the stagecoach to slow, it was a relief for not only Din, but the exhausted horses who had been forced to gallop over the cobbled roads of Tor.
As an isolationist nation, Anjima often struggled to keep up with the world's events, relying on unsubstantiated word-of-mouth rumours from the occasional traveller or merchant from Tor. As such, Shukora had not been gripped with the same uneasy fear that had spread through the streets of Gria, but the capital continued to reel from the appearance of a Dragon in the skies above the city a month prior. Though it hadn't caused any significant damage, incurring the wrath of a Dragon was seen as an ill omen, and questions were once again raised as to the legitimacy of its underage emperor--with court advisors arguing that the Dragon's appearance was a sign that someone more experienced should rise to power.
Thankfully, due to public demand for food and supplies soaring after the crisis, the trade embargo mandated by the emperor was lifted shortly afterwards, meaning caravans and travellers were now allowed entry into the city once more.
"Mm…" Din seemed apprehensive as the two of them approached the city gates, "Are Elves welcome in this country, Dorma?"
"I would wager that most people here haven't even heard the name before." She replied, "That said, Anjima is a country proud of its cultural heritage, and the ethnic purity of its royal bloodline. I wouldn't put it past some of the more intolerant citizens here to see your ears and hair as unnatural."
"Aren't the people here just humans? What makes them so different?"
"In ancient times, the people of Anjima were fiercely protective of their borders. Conflicts with Tor as it expanded from the central mainland fostered discontent between the two, and even when the lines of their dominions were drawn, it was unlikely for either country to initiate diplomacy. Of course, things are better nowadays with the Holy Alliance in place, but Tor and Anjima are still seen as 'divided' in certain ways."
"From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like the Holy Alliance is much of an alliance…"
"Very rarely are alliances brokered for no reason besides loyalty." Dorma answered, "Communication and influence--that is what decides such a bond between nations."
"Communication?"
"The ability to keep up with one-another's affairs has ensured that no technological advances are exclusive to a single country. Whether agricultural, economic or industrial, an open borders treaty allows for information to flow freely--along trade routes, for instance."
Dorma continued to explain the ways of the greater world as their stagecoach was ushered along the queue of wagons seeking entry to Shukora, "That is precisely why institutions such as the Merchant's Guild and the Alchemist's Guild are so important. They provide passive methods of exchanging information while joining with foreign experts to ensure the maximum amount of growth possible. Whether we are divided ethnically or ideologically, the 'truth' of progress is universal and undeniable. That is why the Holy Alliance has endured for almost 500 years."
Din was no politician. She was hardly a handmaiden. Her understanding of the greater world had always been interpreted through eavesdropping the conversations of humans. What seemed utterly impossible just a month ago--the hidden capital of her people being revealed to the world, was now a stark reality. The relations between humans and Elves would be tested in the coming years, but as Dorma had said, the universal draw of 'progress' would unite them even through bigotry. The idea of peace through cooperation, rather than social reformation, was one that, she thought, placed a nation above its people. She wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Shukora's rising sprawl terminated at the country's pride and joy--the Emperor's palace, considered the crowning jewel of a country which already placed a great deal of emphasis on discovering beauty in every facet of its society. The blue-shingled roofs and paper walls of the city's homes and establishments were like nothing Din had ever seen before, accustomed to the graceful, waning sterility of the Elven people as she was. Restored to their bustling glory, the splendorous street markets soared with wonderful sights and smells.
"It's so different from Tor…" Din muttered, "You wouldn't think we were entering a Demon Age with how leisurely it seems here."
"Given enough time, even Anjima will be overrun." Dorma replied, "-All the more reason we need to prepare for the coming war."
"But… Barion isn't here, is he?" She asked, "In that case, who are we searching for?"
"He's quite the character. I imagine convincing him to help us won't be terribly easy, however."
The central pavilion of Shukora's square featured cherry blossoms which had just passed their blooming period. Birds happily perched upon their branches and pecked away at the sour fruits ripening upon them. Finding a quiet place to leave the stagecoach, Din followed Dorma as she wandered across the crowded city centre, looking from side to side as if searching for something.
"This feeling…" She muttered, "I'm certain that he's close…"
Dorma may have been 'a' Hero, but she was not 'the' Hero--that is to say, the Hero of legend. Her ability to detect Demons was limited compared to Barion's, but over the course of their original journey, she had cultivated a kind of sixth sense for the beasts. Not to imply that any Demons were hiding in plain sight within Shukora--no, she searched for an aura even darker. Then, mixing with the hot steam and burning oils of the street stalls, she saw it; a darkness denser than any other, such that it almost obscured the man it originated from.
Beckoning Din over, the two of them proceed towards the source, and seated themselves upon the rustic stools of that unremarkable stall.
"Hello there." A voice greeted, "It's 6 copper pieces for a spring roll."
"6 copper pieces?" Dorma repeated, "That's quite a lot to be spending on a roll with some pork in it."
"They're vegetarian."
"That's even worse!"
The owner smirked. It was an uncharacteristically innocent look for him.
"Just a month ago, a fellow came by who said something very similar."
"...Barion was here?" Dropping all ambiguities, Dorma asked that simple question, "That would have been shortly after he left Tor…"
"Oh? Are you looking for him?"
"Not quite. I've got a good idea of where he might be." She rested her arms on the stand, "I came to find you, actually."
"Part of my desire for a quiet life involves not being dragged into the business of other people, you know." He replied, "No doubt you want me to help you with reining in this terrible Demon Age. I'll have to disappoint you by refusing right away."
"Uhm… Dorma?" Din suddenly spoke up, "Who is this?"
"Is that an Elf?" The man asked, "Is she your servant?"
"She's the personal handmaiden of Aelf'ahlnohma's Queen, I'll have you know." Dorma answered, "And Din--this is Manyu, the Demon King of 500 years ago."
"Eh!?"
"Don't go telling that to just anyone…" The man sighed, "Even Barion was kind enough to be at least somewhat cloak-and-dagger about it…"
"The-" Din paused, "The Demon King!? But-"
"-But he's supposed to be dead, yes. I know it must be hard to believe." Dorma interrupted.
"But… he's-"
"The antithesis to the Goddess of Light, yes. An affront to life. Progenitor of Demons, herald of the end times, master of the Four Heavenly Kings… it would be simpler to name the things he isn't. Of course, that life is far behind him. Now it seems he spreads misery by overcharging for spring rolls."
"Dorma…" Wearing a tired expression, Manyu stepped away from his stall, "If we really must have this conversation, let's do it someplace private. I don't want the rantings of this Elf to scare away any customers."
"What a splendid idea." She smiled, "Come along, Din."
"What- but…"
She was bedazzled, to put it in the plainest terms possible. So much so that she had neither the willpower nor strength to resist Dorma's attempts to lead her by the wrist away from the bustling city square.