Chapter Forty: The Investiture

The next morning, the train made a stop at a major station. Dolly and the two young men went to buy some food, and when they returned to the compartment, they found Mulan still asleep. However, Mulan was not truly asleep, but rather lying in bed out of habit, not wanting to get up.

“Hey, we’ll be in Digo in three hours. Aren’t you going to get up and stretch your legs?”

Mulan opened his eyes and glanced at the food on the table; it was clear they had bought a portion for him as well.

“What’s the point of wandering around on the platform? I’d rather stroll around the imperial capital when we arrive—it’s only three hours away. By the way, has Lord Owen been by?”

“We just ran into him. He asked about us and paid for our breakfast.”

Mulan rubbed his eyes and sat up, his thoughts wandering to what kind of suitable sanctuary he might find in the imperial capital of Digo.

“You don’t seem to sleep well. Is it because of the train?”

Dolly opened a paper package, revealing something like a sandwich. She took a bite, seemed to consider it, then quickly ate a second and third bite.

“It’s an old problem, nothing to do with the train. Is that good?”

“Try it, it’s not bad.”

Mulan took a sandwich, bit into it, and immediately frowned. He chewed and swallowed.

“Not great.”

Dolly looked at the young man and woman beside her. They were also eating the sandwich, but their expressions were not cheerful. Still, everyone, including Mulan, finished their food.

At that moment, the train began to move again with its characteristic clattering, and outside on the platform, many people were waving, some even running after the train.

But out of the corner of his eye, Mulan suddenly spotted Owen.

“Hm? Lord Owen didn’t board the train?”

Surprised, Mulan spoke up, drawing Dolly’s and the two youths’ attention to the window. However, the train had already left the platform, so there wasn’t much to see.

“Are you sure he didn’t get on?”

“I’m pretty sure it was him. He was standing with someone in the shadows, holding an umbrella.”

Dolly frowned.

“If he’s not on the train, what are we supposed to do when we get to Digo? We don’t know anyone. We can’t count on Walton to come pick us up, can we?”

“Heh, it wouldn’t surprise me if he wanted to pick you up.”

Mulan quipped, then thought for a moment and added, “Perhaps Owen has his own arrangements. He wouldn’t just abandon us.”

...

Three and a half hours later, at Digo Imperial Station, Mulan, Dolly, and the others were preparing to disembark when Owen appeared at their compartment to fetch them. Mulan was momentarily taken aback, and Dolly glanced at him in confusion, but neither said anything. Someone like Owen was never to be judged by ordinary logic, and it wasn’t their place to ask. Better to pretend ignorance.

Dolly seemed to understand this perfectly, and the two young people, though not old, were sharp enough to keep their thoughts to themselves.

Owen acted as if nothing unusual had happened, leading them off the train. Once they boarded a carriage, he was as warm and enthusiastic as ever, pointing out the palace, the most famous opera house, the entertainment districts, the universities, and libraries.

The carriage drove on without pause, stopping finally outside a magnificent palace, its scale rivaling several count’s estates. Towers rose at each corner, soldiers patrolling above.

Owen and the others remained in the carriage; only Mulan was escorted inside after a brief exchange of messages. He had assumed that any formal investiture would wait until he had settled in.

The palace officials were courteous, but the dazzling splendor and many layers of security left Mulan unable to relax.

Eventually, they stopped before a room.

“Lord Jonest, please wait in this lounge. When Her Majesty is ready to receive you, I’ll come to escort you. There is hot tea and refreshments inside. If you need anything, just tell the attendants.”

“All right, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome!”

The official led Mulan inside and then withdrew. Mulan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the table of pastries—most were biscuits of some kind. He sampled a few and decided they were inferior to Old Buck’s, clicking his tongue in disappointment. In his mind’s eye, he imagined Old Buck standing with one hand behind his back and a rolling pin in the other, shouting, “Is there anyone better—?”

Elsewhere in the palace, Niss Heliel was reviewing documents at her desk, assisted by a man and a woman.

“Your Majesty, perhaps you should rest a while.”

“There’s too much to do after the war—I can’t rest. The conflict dragged on so long, and we still didn’t win. There’s a lot of discontent at home.”

“This isn’t your fault, Your Majesty.”

The two aides offered her words of comfort, when suddenly a chamberlain knocked and entered.

“Your Majesty, Lord Mulan Jonest has arrived at the palace. You had said he should come immediately upon reaching the capital, and not to keep him waiting. Do you wish to receive him now?”

Niss Heliel smiled faintly, as if recalling stories from her childhood.

“Such a distant age—the Empire’s Thirteen Swords. Who would have thought the line would still endure? If not for Sir Blanklin’s message, I’d never have known. It’s one of the few good tidings lately.”

She rose and looked at her aides.

“I’ll go receive him. It can count as a rest.”

At that moment, Mulan was in the lounge, sampling each pastry—one of each, mentally declaring each a “weakling” before moving to the next. He tasted a bit of cake and left the rest: cloyingly sweet.

“What a waste… So many plates just for me, and the cake is this sweet. This queen…”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Lord Jonest, Her Majesty will see you now.”

The chamberlain entered. Mulan quickly set down his biscuit, while behind the chamberlain an attendant stood holding a tray.

“Lord Jonest, you are to meet Her Majesty. If you are carrying any weapons, please entrust them to me for safekeeping.”

“All right!”

Without protest, Mulan drew a revolver from his coat and handed over the cane that had been beside his seat.

The glory of his knightly family was a private indulgence—after so many years, Mulan wasn’t naive enough to believe any monarch would allow an unfamiliar visitor to approach armed.

He followed the chamberlain down a long corridor, stopping before a double door guarded by soldiers.

“Please, go in.”

Mulan took a steadying breath and entered with the chamberlain.

The hall was not as grand as he had imagined—more like a side chamber, really. Still, Mulan was certain no one would dare impersonate the Empress. When he saw the woman seated at the far end, he stepped forward and knelt on one knee.

“Mulan Jonest, at Your Majesty’s service!”

At some point, the tray holding Mulan’s weapons had been brought to Niss Heliel’s side. She glanced at the revolver and cane, lifted the heavy pistol, and read the inscription on its barrel.

“Shine forth.”

“Sir Jonest, is this cane also a weapon?”

Only now did Mulan look up and see the queen clearly. Perhaps because his previous life had instilled in him the notion that queens must be formidable and mature, he had always pictured her as older. Yet this queen was much younger than he’d expected; she looked mature, yes, but some of it was surely styling. From her face and figure alone, Mulan had to admit the royal blood of Dierga was impressive.

As Mulan studied Niss Heliel, she in turn had been observing him since his entry. Blanklin rarely praised anyone so highly, and she knew what Mulan had faced.

“Your Majesty, if you lightly twist the cane’s handle, you can draw the sword hidden inside. Please be careful—the blade is very sharp!”

As Mulan spoke, Niss Heliel had already drawn the sword. He watched her intently, relieved that nothing untoward happened while it was in her hands.

“Fang?”

The queen swung the blade, then walked over to Mulan, stopping just a step away, flanked by her attendants and guards.

“I’ve heard your story. That court-martial was a travesty, but it has brought you to my attention. Perhaps it is fate, Sir Jonest.”

With that, the queen rested the sword on Mulan’s shoulder.

“In the name of the Empress of Dierga, I knight you, Mulan Jonest, as a Knight of the Empire!”

She personally returned the sword to him.

“I permit you to carry weapons in my presence!”

Mulan looked at Niss Heliel. As a member of the Jonest family, he was deeply moved in this moment. However—ah, she hadn’t given back the gun.