Chapter 13. They Desired the Same Thing (2016.02.15)
The Pope who led the Ahalah Church—the religion with the greatest influence on the continent, known as the Caliph—had never once left the Caliphate, the country he governed. For such a man to visit the Alshatra Empire in order to meet Sultan Hashar was a major event.
Moreover, he announced his visit publicly, not secretly, and even staged a grand procession along the main streets of the capital, Aslan, where anyone could see.
It was also said that the priests accompanying the procession would distribute rare blessings that were otherwise difficult to obtain even with money, making the event all the more noteworthy.
In particular, believers of the Ahalah Church flocked to Alshatra in the hope of catching even a glimpse of the Caliph. Since the news of his arrival spread, every vacant room in the capital, Aslan, quickly disappeared.
Even so, the faithful continued to arrive without end, willing to sleep outdoors. The merchants of Aslan rejoiced at this unexpected surge in business, while even non-believers looked forward to enjoying the spectacle.
“The Caliph’s procession is approaching.”
And on the day the Caliph finally entered Aslan, Ilsia also came out to witness his arrival.
“At last…”
Wrapping her face tightly with a large cloth and leaving only her eyes exposed, Ilsia quietly looked down below.
She stood on the rooftop of a low building along the route of the Caliph’s procession. From here, she could observe the Caliph in peace without disturbance.
Standing beside her for protection were Shukri and several of the most skilled Dekarim, all dressed in plain clothes.
From a distance, the sounds of trumpets and cheering voices could be heard. Ilsia, gazing steadily in that direction, spoke briefly.
“He’s coming.”
The procession resembled a wave of black and white. Priests dressed in black robes, with white stoles around their necks, marched in orderly formation.
With each step, they raised their right arms toward the sky and uttered blessings. Each time, white light scattered like shimmering dust in all directions. Spectators pushed and jostled each other, trying to catch the falling blessings.
Beside the priests rode Holy Knights clad in black armor atop black horses. Their role was to prevent the excited crowds from rushing the priests or getting too close.
At the center of the long procession was a pure white palanquin. At its front, young boys rang small silver bells, while girls carried large baskets and continuously scattered white flower petals.
The petals they scattered were real flowers, hand-plucked—not artificial paper imitations.
“Caliph…”
Ilsia murmured as she watched the palanquin move along the flower-strewn path. The palanquin was surrounded by white veils on all sides, hiding its occupant from view. Only a faint silhouette could be seen through the veil.
However, the subtle and intricate gold embroidery woven into the veil clearly marked it as the Caliph’s palanquin.
As the Caliph’s palanquin passed through the procession, the crowd erupted in cheers. Among the believers of the Ahalah Church, some were so overwhelmed with emotion that a few even fainted.
At that moment, a hand wearing a pure white glove gracefully emerged from between the veils. The Caliph, who had remained motionless inside the palanquin until now, extended his hand, prompting even louder cheers from the crowd.
“Waaah!”
As if in response to the cheers, his long fingers stretched out.
Then, a dense and brilliant white light—far surpassing the light previously emitted by the priests—shot up into the sky, burst like an explosion, and scattered sparkling light in all directions.
The light spread so far that it reached Ilsia’s position. As the shimmering particles drifted down, Shukri frowned and stepped back. For someone who handled unholy power, fragments of sacred power were unpleasant.
Ilsia had no particular reason to avoid it, but remembering her previous encounter with the Caliph, she felt an inexplicable discomfort. In the end, she too stepped back slightly to avoid it.
Shukri, who had retreated to avoid the light, spoke to Ilsia as she approached him.
“An impressive power.”
Ilsia nodded. Although information about sacred power was limited, controlling such power on this scale was no simple feat. Even if it was uncertain whether the Caliph rivaled Hashar, it was clear he was not an opponent to be underestimated.
People scattered everywhere were cheering wildly, almost like madmen, praising the Caliph under the scattered light. Ilsia, watching the palanquin intently, suddenly said:
“Hashar once said that he is a more fearsome man than himself.”
“Is that so.”
“We’ll understand why once we meet him in person.”
For a moment, it felt as though the silhouette beneath the veil was looking in Ilsia’s direction. Though invisible, she could sense it.
He was looking at her… Ilsia did not bother to avert her gaze. Instead, she hardened her expression and murmured firmly:
“In reality, not in dreams.”
The procession gradually moved away. Watching its retreating figure, Ilsia slowly turned around. The cloth draped over her flowed with her movement.
Holding the fluttering fabric in place with her hand, Ilsia gave an order:
“Let’s go to Hashar’s palace.”
The Caliph’s long procession ultimately arrived in front of Hashar’s palace. Hashar and the Emirs had gathered at the gates to receive him.
Hashar had not specifically ordered the Emirs to attend.
However, the Emirs understood that the meeting between Hashar and the Caliph would determine the future balance of power on the southern continent. Without being told, they had all gathered at the palace.
“….”
A wind blew. Dust rose and blurred the road. Hashar slowly looked left and right.
Desert warriors stood in long formation along both sides of the gate, each holding a curved shamshir. In front of them stood the Emirs.
Hashar stood at the center, with Emir Ahad to his right. When Hashar’s gaze fell upon Ahad, he immediately bowed his head in submission.
However, Hashar knew that he was a black beast that could bite his throat at any moment.
“Regrettably, I cannot entrust security to you today.”
This was a sarcastic remark referring to the previous incident when assassins had infiltrated despite Ahad being in charge of security.
“My apologies.”
“Thanks to you, Alshatra’s coffers are full. If you were to do the same again, I would have to thank you instead.”
“….”
Instead of replying, Ahad bowed his head even lower. Previously, as punishment for failing to properly secure the banquet, he had offered a substantial tribute to Hashar.
While the failure was too serious to be settled with tribute alone, Hashar could not afford to cast Ahad aside at the moment.
It was difficult to prove intent, and with uncertainty surrounding the relationship with the Caliph, it would be dangerous to weaken their forces by provoking war with Ahad.
Ahad was not an easy opponent. Thus, although they both knew they could betray each other at any moment, they merely pretended to cooperate. For now, on the surface, Ahad was one of the Emirs subordinate to Alshatra.
At that moment, the sound of a trumpet rang out—the signal announcing the Caliph’s arrival.
“At last, the Caliph has come.”
With Hashar’s murmur, the black procession emerged through the dusty haze. It split into two lines at the gate. The Holy Knights dismounted, taking the reins and organizing the formation.
Then the Caliph’s palanquin moved to the front and came to a stop. The palanquin was set down, and the Caliph lifted the white veil to reveal himself.
“White skin!”
At someone’s exclamation, gasps erupted from all around.
“Incredible—white skin in the desert!”
“Caliph, beloved by the gods!”
The Caliph was a handsome man with pale white skin and gentle features. The murmurs were loud enough to reach Hashar’s ears. Even though the Caliph must have heard everything, he maintained an elegant, unshaken smile.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, the priests of Ahalah knelt in unison, while the Holy Knights raised their right arms in salute.
Among the Emirs, those who were believers of Ahalah also knelt. After observing which Emirs did so, Hashar finally turned his gaze to the Caliph.
The Caliph offered a benevolent smile and spoke a blessing:
“May the light and grace of Ahalah descend upon Alshatra.”
Their eyes met. Facing the Caliph’s light gray eyes, Hashar could not help but smirk.
A beast encountering a rival burns with competitive spirit. He revealed his hostility openly, heightening his presence without concealment. Slowly, he began to speak.
“Since the Caliph has personally come to Alshatra…”
Hashar’s red eyes looked as though blood had pooled within them. Though calm, a faint scent of blood seemed to emanate from his gaze.
“I am truly honored.”
The Caliph smiled in response to Hashar’s hostility.
“I am the one who is humbled by such hospitality.”
Yet beneath their refined facades, both harbored hostility. After all, they were fully aware of each other’s thoughts and desires.
They desired the same thing—and neither intended to yield.
Ilsia’s words about walking the line between the Caliph and Hashar were sincere.
If the Caliph could better serve the Devaris tribe, Ilsia was prepared to abandon Hashar without hesitation.
‘Well… maybe not entirely without hesitation. I might hesitate a little.’
Still, relying solely on Hashar was too risky. His mind, sustained by Caligula, could collapse at any time. Moreover, he was an uncontrollable beast.
The desert demon, ruler of the scorching sands… As those many titles suggested, Hashar’s nature was inherently wild and unwilling to submit to anyone.
Ilsia could not fully grasp him. At times he seemed like a child; at others, like a predator. He could be sly and gentle, yet suddenly become dangerously firm.
Such unpredictability prevented her from placing complete trust in him. As for the Caliph, she did not yet know what kind of person he was—but in any case, there were more than enough reasons to meet him.
“He is… a more fearsome man than I am.”
Hashar’s assessment of the Caliph lingered in her mind, but Ilsia shook her head lightly to dismiss thoughts of him.
In any case, the Caliph had already sent a request through Dekarim.
If she did nothing, he would inevitably come to find her. Rather than waiting passively, it suited her nature better to approach him first. Today’s meeting was the right course of action.
Moreover, Shukri himself had agreed!
Although the Caliph was dangerous, Shukri believed it was unwise to place all their trust solely in Hashar.
For someone like Shukri—who usually opposed everything—agreeing to this was rare, which made Ilsia feel even more certain that meeting the Caliph was necessary.
“The Caliph’s procession has arrived in front of Hashar’s palace.”
Hidden near the palace, Ilsia observed the meeting between the Caliph and Hashar. She heard the Caliph dismount and the crowd erupt in awe.
Shukri, also surprised upon seeing the Caliph, quietly exclaimed. Then he whispered to Ilsia:
“I didn’t expect the Caliph to have white skin…”
“Yeah. White skin…”
The Caliph’s pale complexion, glowing under the sunlight, stood out among the bronze-skinned people and appeared almost sacred.
At that moment, he seemed undeniably worthy of divine favor. After watching him exchange a few words with Hashar, Ilsia asked quietly:
“Where will the Caliph be staying?”
“In the western annex. It is said that due to his long journey, there will be no private meeting with Hashar today.”
At Shukri’s reply, Ilsia nodded slightly and said:
“Then shall we meet him before Hashar does?”
The Caliph, guided by Hashar, entered the palace. Part of the black procession followed him, while the rest dispersed elsewhere.
Since not all of them could be accommodated in the palace, only those accompanying the Caliph would enter, while the others were housed elsewhere.
Before sunset, Ilsia planned to infiltrate the palace. Though it would inconvenience Anasilla, she intended to make full use of the route she had provided.
It was a path she had traversed without encountering a single guard, so using it would allow her to reach the Caliph’s residence easily.
“Caliph…”
He was someone she absolutely had to meet. Though he was an unavoidable threshold, a strange sense of unease continued to linger in Ilsia’s heart.
The desert night is cold.
It emits a chill completely different from the scorching heat of the day. Those unfamiliar with the desert often assume the night will be the same as the daytime sun—but the desert has two entirely different faces.
The Caliphate, ruled by the Caliph, possessed the most fertile land in the southern continent. Perhaps because of this, although the Caliph was born and raised in the south, the sand felt unfamiliar to him.
“Sand for the first time in eight years…”
He had been in seclusion for a long time, and had no intention of ever leaving the Caliphate again. But now that the Queen had begun to move, even he could not remain idle.
The Caliph looked around the room where he would stay. The accommodations provided by Hashar were more than sufficient.
Decorated in accordance with the doctrines of Ahalah Church, the room was dominated by neutral tones, a stark contrast to the rest of Hashar’s palace—but it suited the Caliph perfectly.
Seated on the bed, the Caliph slowly leaned his head back. His silver-gray hair spilled over the dark bedding. Fatigue pressed down on his body. Feeling a rising sense of discomfort, he called out to a priest outside in a low voice.
“Priest.”
A priest of the Ahalah Church waiting outside immediately knelt before him. The Caliph smiled gently and said:
“I am thirsty.”
At his words, the priest trembled slightly. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes. Such a reaction was unusual for a simple request of thirst.
The Caliph noticed the priest’s fear but did not comment on it. Instead, he slightly lifted his chin, silently urging him to act. The priest, trying to hide his trembling hands, replied:
“I will… bring something to drink.”
At that moment, a commotion arose outside. The Caliph frowned, and the priest, using it as an excuse to investigate, hurried out as if fleeing. Soon after, he returned and reported cautiously:
“My lord Caliph. It appears that women of the harem who are believers of Ahalah have sent a gift.”
“The women of the harem?”
A smile formed on the Caliph’s lips.
A gift from the women of the harem. Even for the Caliph, he was still an outsider—not the Sultan himself. They would not act so freely without reason.
Perhaps someone who wishes to meet me is using the harem as a pretext, he thought.
“Let them in.”
A man strode into the room.
With sandy-blond hair, olive-colored eyes, and sun-bronzed skin, the man carried a large bundle of thick silk in his hands.
The Caliph smiled and said:
“For the women of the harem to employ a male servant—how amusing.”
The man showed no reaction to the Caliph’s pointed remark. With a blank expression, he spoke:
“Please dismiss the others.”
I wonder what he intends to do.
The Caliph gestured for the priests to leave, as if saying “go ahead.” Soon, only the Caliph and the man remained in the room.
Carefully, the man laid the silk bundle vertically on the floor. The rolled fabric slowly unfurled.
“…!”
The Caliph’s eyes widened.
Inside the silk was a woman. She exhaled deeply as she emerged, brushing back her disheveled hair while looking at the Caliph.
Her clear ice-blue eyes, framed by deep navy lashes, were steady. With pale white skin and a presence that was both youthful and mature, the woman spoke in a clear voice:
“We meet again, Caliph.”
The Caliph burst into laughter.
The woman who had appeared from within the silk—she was Ilsia, the queen of the Devaris.
