Arslan Senki

A hawk soared through the sky. It rose and descended in the air, then turned itself around and went straight down behind the other side of the mountains.

"Ah! What a fine hawk!"

Exclaimed the young man of the Zott clan. The nineteen-year-old Merlane was escorting Princess Irina and her party, who had crossed the Inland Sea from the country of Maryam. They had been avoiding the main highway as they continued on their journey.

Little did Merlane know that the hawk was named Azrael, and that across the mountain range was the Parsian army, where his sister was rocking a Lusitanian baby.

The slow pace of their journey could be compared to that of a snail's, and there were some who complained to Merlane that they "should have taken the continental highway and gone faster".

"If you want to reveal yourself to the Lusitanian army, then go ahead and do it!"

Merlane shot back nonchalantly. The reason the trip was so slow was because the Maryami soldiers had no horses and had to carry palanquins. In addition, they had brought a lot of unnecessary baggage, and the nobility were not used to walking so much, often having to stop and rest. It seemed unacceptable to Merlane to blame him for their slow pace.

"I am truly grateful to Lord Merlane. If I find His Highness Hilmes, I will have him thank you properly."

The blind Princess of Maryam, said this to Merlane on one occasion.

"I’m not doing this for any reward. After taking you to that man Hilmes, I am going to find my sister, and return to my village."

Merlane replied unhappily. Although he wasn’t really too upset, the young man still felt insulted by the others looking at him like that.

What the hell was he doing? Merlane had thought about it. He should only be focused on looking for his sister, whose whereabouts were unknown, and bringing her back to the village to solve the problem of succession of the Zott Clan chief. That's how things should be. Instead, he was escorting this foreign princess to her beloved. Really, what the hell was he doing?

He did have a strange feeling about Princess Irina. He felt that she wasn’t very different from his sister, who had always been frivolous with her emotions.

However, this seemed a little different than simple infatuation, and Merlane felt that he could not have just left her. The one-eyed man he’d met in Daylam seemed to have made that conclusion as well, but that was likely due to his own strange view on things. However, one does not always know their own heart best.

That one-eyed man must be off traveling somewhere right now, Merlane thought. As he wondered this, Merlane gazed up at the sky.

After parting with Merlane, Kubard, who had formerly been a Parsian general, continued his journey in the direction of the rising sun.

Kubard rode his horse through the mountainous area close to the Darband Inland Sea, experiencing adventures that would someday become legends, but for him, it was merely exercise to help digestion. To someone else, his words would probably only be considered "Braggart Kubard" type of talk.

However, by this time, Arslan had already left the fortress of Peshawar. Lucian, and the others who had stayed behind, were all unfamiliar to Kubard. Although they all knew of the bravery of this prestigious Marzban, it did not seem appropriate for him to stay here.

"Perhaps I am not destined to follow Prince Arslan!"

Kubard laughed slightly to himself. If he’d crossed over the mountain to the south and continued up the road, he would have met up with Arslan’s camp. However, because he did not choose to go this way, he missed them.

"Ah, forget it. There’s no time limit, and I have plenty of money to travel, so let's go west!

He turned back while still in front of Peshawar, and headed towards the continental highway. The chances of finding a beautiful woman in Peshawar were likely too little, anyway.

At the same time, there was another lone man traversing Pars on horseback. This man was the opposite of Kubard, having just separated from Arslan’s army and was now on his own. The traveling musician with red hair and blue eyes had changed his direction since discreetly demonstrating his marksmanship at the fortress of Saint Emmanuel.

His goal was the legendary Mount Damavand. He remembered that Arslan had a hang-up about this mountain, and he himself also had a great interest in it. The road he was now taking towards the east was also the continental highway, where the Lusitanian army had been swept away not long ago.

In addition to that, there was a man with a small group of about one hundred horsemen, running through the Parsian wilderness in order to avoid crossing paths with Arslan’s army. He was the knight wearing a silver mask. This man, who claimed to be the rightful heir to the throne of Pars, was headed towards the tomb of Kai Khosrow, the founder of the kingdom, at the request of a magician dressed in dark gray. He wanted to use the sword Rukhnabad as proof to all of Pars that he was the rightful king.

Following this man was Zandeh. He had always been loyal to Silver Mask, but this time, he had vague feelings of unease and doubt. He thought that one should not risk everything on obtaining a legendary sword. His Highness Hilmes was undoubtedly the rightful heir to the throne of Pars. It was true that he was now in an unfavorable position compared to Arslan, but wouldn't it be better to think of another countermeasure? For example, when meeting alone with Guiscard, the king's brother of Lusitania, couldn’t they threaten him and take him as a hostage?

However, Zandeh did not say these words, and followed behind Hilmes. He knew that once Hilmes had decided on something, he would definitely see it through.

In the country of Pars, the countless threads that weave together the human world have formed a wide net, and the people trapped within these threads are chasing their own threads, entangled in the mess of threads. To untangle all these threads, each person sits down at their own place and works on their ideal tapestry. It will take a great deal of time.

But this doesn't necessarily mean that the tapestry will ever be finished, or that all the threads won’t be dyed a blood red before it is completed.