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The port city of Barcelona in Catalonia. A beautiful city praised by countless poets in their songs. As the number one port city in Hiberia, it was so famous that many across the continent would say, “Even if you don’t know Catalonia, you know Barcelona.”

The driving force behind this prosperity couldn’t be explained by just one reason. But if we had to pick a few, the first would be its geopolitical location.

From the perspective of the entire continent (Europa), the Kingdom of Hiberia is relatively on the outskirts. However, its proximity to Southern Franquia and Rotaringia, which are central to trade along the Sea of Tethys, and its closeness to Valencia, a key point for trade with the Imazighen tribes across the sea in the Maghreb region, makes it a favorable location for a trading port.

Of course, this alone isn’t enough to explain Barcelona’s prosperity. Many ports have similar conditions. Digging deeper, there are more reasons. For example, Barcelona’s geographical conditions are ideal for building fortresses to defend against invaders and for monitoring land routes. Additionally, the region’s underground is rich in coal and iron ore, allowing for the production of high-quality iron goods.

Regardless, due to various conditions, both mentioned and unmentioned, Barcelona has prospered as a military facility, trading port, and source of high-quality iron goods. As the city’s wealth grew, its administrators began to focus on preserving its traditions and aesthetics.

About a hundred years ago, significant investments were made in redevelopment, which has since contributed greatly to Barcelona’s tourism income. The efforts of those who have nurtured the city over generations have made the money spent back then worthwhile.

However, as the world goes, the brighter the light, the darker the shadow. The darkness lurking in the city’s alleys is deeper and more persistent compared to other cities.

Unlike the clean and orderly main streets that attract tourists, the back alleys reveal a less pristine scene. The eerie silence of deserted alleys, homeless people begging, the thick scent of incense mixed with the fake laughter and blatant solicitation of brothel workers, the sour stench of alcohol from drunks staggering or vomiting against walls.

The dry, soulless sighs of those crouched like stains in a corner of the prosperous city, and the shallow, frivolous laughter of men living only for today. These scenes mix chaotically, filling the darkness of the alleys like a fog, draping over them like a curtain.

At first glance, it seems like a place without order or focus. But even such a place is still inhabited by people, and where there are people, power always emerges.

Even if it’s not something to boast about, power is power, and people come and go around it. In most cases, power in the shadows goes to those who show the most charisma in the most primal way, so conflicts and struggles among those who have gained power are inevitable.

“Did you hear? A crow from the countryside of Valencia lost its nest and drifted here.”

In a corner of Barcelona, a bit away from the entertainment district, two groups of men from different factions faced each other across a relatively wide alley, about five yards across. At each end, thugs from each side created a tense atmosphere, while in the middle, two men stood facing each other.

A man in a sleeveless shirt, revealing his arms, twisted his neck and continued speaking. Unlike the Hiberian common language, which pronounces ‘j’ closer to ‘h’, his unique Catalan dialect, pronouncing it closer to ‘hj’, rang out clearly.

“I heard things were a bit noisy on your side. But isn’t it a bit much to stir up trouble in the place you fled to?”

In other words, he was mocking the other for being too bold after losing his base and being driven out. However, the man opposite him remained calm and replied without flinching.

“I was curious about the face of a dog owner who couldn’t even keep his own dog in check. I was wondering how to lure you out of your hole, and now you’ve finally shown your esteemed face.”

In other words, he was saying, “You started interfering with my business, so stop the nonsense and let’s settle this head-on.”

The provocative remark, mixed with a Valencia accent influenced by the Hiberian common language, made the man who had earlier called the other a “country crow” twitch his eyebrow.

“Talking nonsense.”

He uttered a threatening remark, curling his lip. But his mind was in turmoil.

‘What’s going on? What makes him so confident?’

Originally, he had looked down on the man who had fled from his base in Valencia to Catalonia. How could he not, when the man had been driven out of his own home? Yet, here in prosperous Barcelona, the man was aggressively expanding his influence, which didn’t sit well with the locals.

So, he had planned to find a pretext to establish hierarchy and discipline, but the man’s calm demeanor made him suspect there was something hidden.

Regardless of his doubts and unease, the man had no choice but to draw his sword. If he let such provocation slide without a show of force, his leadership would be questioned. For now, the only right move was to assert his authority with a blade.

*Swoosh.*

The sword he drew was a cutlass with a smooth, curved blade. Known in Hiberian as “El Chaparrote,” it was a style of sword that had recently become popular among sailors in southern Hiberia.

The man known as the “Valencia Crow” also drew his sword. His was a standard espada.

Pointing the tip of his sword forward, with his left hand behind his back and his posture slightly lowered, the man watched his opponent. The sleeveless-shirted Catalan man also took a stance with his cutlass.

The espada-wielding man narrowed his eyes as he observed the cutlass-wielding man’s posture, with the blade pointing forward and the hilt at his waist, the blade and hilt facing left.

‘He’s guarding against a thrust from my inside line. Is he wary of my thrusting technique?’

His espada was longer than a typical sword, with a blunted edge designed for thrusting. It originated from armored swordsmanship and later became part of the tradition of dueling in city alleys.

This was different from the cutlass swordsmanship developed among nomads who used light cavalry and sailors who fought in lightly armed shipboard battles. He must have been aware of this.

The two men stared at each other in silence, their sharpened senses focused on each other. The onlookers, without realizing it, clenched their fists and swallowed hard.

“Ah, sorry. Can I take one person with me?”

An uninvited guest casually intruded into the tense space.

A youthful voice suddenly sounded right beside them.

‘How could I not notice someone approaching so close?’

A chilling shiver ran down their spines. The two men turned their heads toward the source of the voice. One of them, Adrian Guillermo, the “Valencia Crow,” widened his eyes as if he had seen a ghost.

He couldn’t help it. Standing there was Conra, the boy who had once dealt him an unforgettable defeat in Valencia, destroying all his foundations, and the girl Maria, who had left with him.

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Conra and Maria’s sudden appearance in the back alleys of Barcelona had its own backstory.

It all started with a message delivered by a nun messenger who came to Sophia.

“Carlos I, the Supreme King of Hiberia, has passed away.”

Faced with the deep implications of this news, Sophia couldn’t help but feel her mind grow complicated.

Hiberia’s political system shared similarities with Caledonia. Perhaps because they shared Celtic ancestors? The existence of a supreme king above the feudal lords of various small kingdoms was a shared political culture in both countries.

The similarities didn’t end there. The successor to the supreme king, in Caledonia the Duke of Essex, in Hiberia the Duke of Asturias, was chosen through a ceremony of pulling a sword from a stone.

In Hiberian, this ceremony was called “Bardenas Reales.” The one who pulled the sword from the stone would be recognized as the successor to the supreme king, treated as his adopted son during his lifetime, and naturally succeed him after his death.

As Sophia fell into thought, the group exchanged comments like “Hiberia is in trouble” or “Caledonia has a similar ceremony.” Since this was a political event in distant Hiberia, they didn’t feel the need to take it seriously.

For them, it was someone else’s business. Their journey was about responding to the rise of demons, not getting involved in political changes across the continent. Thinking otherwise would have been strange.

However, after some deliberation, Sophia’s sudden remark changed their perspective.

“Maria, how about going to Hiberia?”

“Huh?”

Caught off guard by her mentor’s question, Maria’s eyes widened like a pigeon hit by a bean bullet.

 

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