When the tavern's front wooden door creaked open, the gentle hum inside fell silent. Through the door adorned with striking bronze handles , stepped two soldiers dressed in the uniforms of the Tengritugen Empire. One was tall and dark-browed Bora; the other appeared more agile, with a glint of cunning intelligence in his eyes Terna.
Attila and Ebren turned their heads to look at the newcomers. Terna was holding several carefully folded parchments in his hand. Passing between the tables, he walked directly to where they were seated. After giving a silent nod, he placed the parchments on the table.
"As you requested, the detailed map of the city and possible escape routes are all here."
Attila fixed his eyes on Terna, trying to mask his surprise. He leaned over the maps, scanned a few of the drawings, then looked up and asked it.
"How did you find all this in such a short time?"
Terna raised one eyebrow slightly, a smug but confident look settling on his face. He gave a casual shrug.
"Well, let's just say we have a few small connections in this city."
Ebren cut in, smiling as he took a sip from his drink.
"Let's hope your connections aren't as talkative as we are, Terna. Otherwise, they'll be the first ones chasing us with that map."
Terna simply smiled and gave no reply. As Attila studied the maps intently, the atmosphere inside the tavern grew heavier; because now, even a single mistake could lead to irreversible consequences.
After leaving the tavern, Attila and Ebren made their way through the crowded streets of the capital toward the palace district. The narrow cobbled roads gradually gave way to wide, orderly green spaces. The palace courtyard was a large, well-maintained garden. Various colored flowers, neatly trimmed trees, and calm little ornamental pools adorned every corner of the courtyard.
As they walked through the garden, the chirping of birds and the distant sound of running water helped ease some of their fatigue. On the grass, palace guards could occasionally be seen standing watch, while servants quietly carried out their duties. The garden was a vast living space that served both for protection and aesthetics, completing the grandeur of the palace.
Attila turned to Ebren beside him and whispered into his ear.
"Things here might be more complicated than we expected. We need to be prepared."
Ebren gave a silent nod of agreement. At the end of the courtyard, the grand main gate of the palace awaited them, surrounded by high walls. As they approached the entrance, guards dressed in gold-embroidered tunics eyed them carefully.
Attila reached into the inner pocket of his cloak, pulled out the diplomatic seal, and held it out silently.
One of the guards examined the seal carefully, nodding without taking his eyes off Attila. Then he turned inward and commanded with a deep voice.
"Permission granted. Open the gates."
The massive iron doors creaked open slowly, the sound of the hinges echoing through the corridors. As they stepped inside, a cool and dense air brushed against their faces.
The interior was a spectacle in itself. The corridors were adorned with vaulted ceilings, and the arches were decorated with blue, black, and gold mosaics. Along the walls, silver-gilded spears, shields, and ancient war paintings of the royal house were displayed at intervals.
A dark maroon carpet, embroidered with the six-pointed emblem of the dynasty, stretched beneath their feet, echoing faintly with each step.
Long torches placed along the corridor cast flickering blue and yellow flames, making the stone walls shimmer — creating the illusion that the palace itself was breathing between light and shadow.
Ebren tilted his head back slightly and glanced up at the enormous mosaic lion figure at the center of the ceiling. Then he turned to Attila with a mocking grin.
"If, after walking down a corridor paved with this much stone and gold, they greet us in the throne room with soup and stale bread… I won't take this empire seriously."
Attila smiled, but his eyes remained alert, scanning their surroundings without letting his guard down. At last, they reached the massive, double-arched doors at the end of the corridor.
Flanking the doors stood two guards clad in jet-black armor, silver lion emblems gleaming on their chests, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.
Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed behind them, the heavy thud of boots hitting the floor rapidly. Turning around, they saw a soldier in blue armor, breathless, rushing toward them with a sealed scroll in his hands.
From the ornate patterns on his armor, it was clear he was no ordinary soldier but one of the Caesar's personal couriers.
Attila and Ebren exchanged glances.
"There's either a rebellion… or the palace kitchen's run out of salt."
Attila ignored Ebren's remark, his expression serious as he watched the messenger approach. The soldier hurried up to the massive doors, panting. The blue lion emblem on his chest shimmered in the light, gleaming like the imperial crest itself.
He came to a halt in front of the two sentries, struck his fist against his chest, and spoke in a short, firm tone.
"Urgent. For the Caesar."
One of the guards gave a slight nod and signaled with his hand. Then, the towering door behind them slowly creaked open inward. A heavy, commanding air poured out from the throne room dim, dense, and filled with authority.
The messenger slipped inside without looking at anyone. Just as he did, Ebren, with his usual confidence, moved to follow him but the guard to the right suddenly raised his arm, blocking his path.
The soldier spoke in a firm, deep voice.
"No entry."
Ebren raised his eyebrows slightly, turning to the man with a smirk tugging at his lips. He tapped his fingers lightly against the hilt of his sword, then spoke in an exaggerated tone.
"Ah, yes… Hospitality. A tradition long lost in imperial cultures. We've been accepted, made it all the way to the door, and now a sword greets us at the threshold. I'm sure the Caesar is inside, sending me warm wine and grapes on a golden platter, isn't he?"
The other guard squinted, his expression unmoved.
Ebren turned to Attila with a grin.
"You see? In order to meet a lion in this palace, you have to pass through three stones first."
Just then, the inner door closed again with a heavy thud, the great latches locking into place.
Ebren sighed and shrugged.
"Whatever's happening in there… let's hope it's less boring than out here."