Rhendal looked at Liam with hooded eyes. “Such confidence in your brand new abilities! There is a common saying among us magi, that we are masters of creation, drunk on power. Because we expend our energy pursuing progression only to trip on our next step. Lord Liam, are you certain of sufficient man? Or will you too falter?"


    "I would normally agree master sage, but thinking is for the weak, and I am an entire month." Said Liam, flexing flabby old man arms and getting a snort out of old man.


    A giggle bounced around Nyota''s shielding oak, along with something about cheese brained idiots.


    “Your concern is valid, but really Rhendal, I feel no pull when I cast these small bolts. Is there a spell or talent to see how much mana you have remaining? Maybe a picture in your mind, say, a bottle of wine that empties as you cast.” Said Liam, quickly fabricating a worldly analogy for the health and mana bars he saw in video games from earth.


    Rhendal raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing every inch of Liam’s face for a moment. Two minds knowing the other meant more than they said, seeking mutual understanding and falling short.


    “You have some very strange ideas Lord Liam. I admit such a visual indicator would be useful, but I am not aware of any such spell or technique. We measure our mana by how physically drained we are after each spell. In a sort of innate mana sense. I’ll defer to your judgment, let us seek the limits of your quiver.” Said Rhendal.


    For the first time in both of Liam’s lives his neck hairs stood on end, rising in response to another being’s mana. Rhendal swirled his hand in the air, collecting dark mana into a baseball sized cloud. The sphere expanded, forming a basketball, then it grew larger, swelling into an orb wide enough for two men to enter.


    What in tarnation! Rhendal can make portals? I asked him to lead us to a portal, not make one!


    “Quickly now, go through the portal, every second it is open drains my power. Do not hesitate or we shant be able to return!”


    Liam peered into the portal nervously, suddenly uncertain if he was really ready to test his lightning. Doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind, was Rhendal the source of his troubles? Could he kill the sage to save the nation? A soft hand slipped around Liam’s, encompassing his index finger.


    “I know you will keep me safe lord Liam.” Whispered Nyota, her feline pupils gazing deeply into his eyes.


    A new form of trouble consumed his mind. Nyota''s vertical pupils contained a look of softness and something else… whatever it was evaded his mind but left his heart wrapped in a field of fuzzy yarnballs.


    I know what love is, I felt it with Sarah. So what is this feeling?


    Nyota’s ears lowered under his scrutiny, the motion flicked his eye breaking the trance he had fallen into. He shook his head and smiled, interlacing his fingers with Nyotas as he did so.


    “Good thing you didn’t heal me after my run, if you had I would be sending you home now. But we can''t go into battle without a healer.” Teased Liam.


    Her lips tightened, displaying a full row of pointed teeth. An involuntary hiss followed, quickly cut off by her free hand clamping over her mouth. She has the same number of teeth that Rhendal does… but Rhendal has human ears, and his fingernails are normal, and he has no tail. Hmm, I would say he is a crossbreed, but that’s impossible... Right?


    Not wanting to ponder the question further Liam changed his focus. “Sorry for making you worry.” He whispered.


    At his words Nyota closed her mouth and lifted her chin, facing forward, towards the portal. They had no idea where Rhendal might be sending them, but they would face it together.


    “Protect the Baron!” Ordered Arlet, dashing after his lord.


    A single step and Liam was through the portal, passing through it was uniquely strange. As if every atom of his being was being stretched for a jarring second. The air tasted different and even the sun’s light —a supposed constant no matter where they were in Greenwood— stung his eyes. Tree trunks appeared around them, identical to those outside of Greenhaven, yet subtly different. Like when two identical twins stand next to each other, they become easy to differentiate. A mole here or there, minute details that would generally go unnoticed without a clone standing next to them, leaving the scent of unfamiliar familiarity lingering in his mind.


    Nyota loosened her grip, tugging on the sappy molasses that magically bound their fingers. Liam responded in kind and pulled, or rather he tried to, failing completely since invisible goo held their hands together, reminiscent of gluing your fingers together with superglue.


    “Wait-” Began Liam, recalling the time grandpa tried to get him into scale modeling. Sweat and the natural shedding of skin would make superglue fall off in time. A brief interval of a few moments could easy see them seperated, and holding Nyota''s hand for a few heartbeats was no great inconvenience. But Nyota didn''t know what superglue was. Interrupting his warning by ripping her hand out of his, tearing skin from both their hands.


    “meoooOWWW!”


    Oh fuck that hurt! But did she actually meow? Ha, kinda cute, but owwww. My hand!


    Fearful of bleeding, Liam grasped his injured hand by the wrist, clenching his forearm with all of Baron Green’s meager strength. He really needed to start lifting, this body was frail. Afterward he examined his hand and what he found in his palm confused him. Liam looked at Nyota, then at his hand once more. Where there had once been flat human fingernails, there were now pointed claws, thicker and narrower than a human fingernail could be. In line with this change his fingers had elongated, roughly a half centimeter, enough of a difference for him to identify immediately but not so grand a change to seem inhuman.


    In contrast, Nyota examined her own hand, disgust coloring her cheeks face as she found the changes to be unsettling. Liam gave hers a once over, noticing the slightly rounded fingernails but little else.


    Nail swapping? Does this make Rhendal the most magical nail salon in the country? Jokes aside, what just happened? Is a portal like a star trek teleporter? Did it break us down into our constituent atoms and accidentally swap a few between me and Nyota?


    Hold up! That’s horrifyingly cool, but what the Picard! Warn me next time Scotty- I mean Rhendal!


    Liam audibly gasped, an unpleasant idea settling into his brain.


    Does this make me a cat boy now? Wait til I tell Sarah— actually… Maybe telling your fiance you swapped genetic material with a catgirl might not go over smoothly…


    Arlet emerged from the portal, stumbling forward into the pair. Naked steel flashed, missing Liam''s chest only because Arlet dropped his blade. Unable to avoid the collision he wrapped his arms around them, carrying them forward several paces to reduce his momentum.


    “Forgive me lord.” He stammered, releasing the pair.


    “Not your fault, clear the area.” Liam answered.


    Sidestepping Arlet, Liam moved forward, wrapping his cat hand around Nyota’s waist, intending to help her out of the road. Contrary to his intent they stumbled sideways, his old body too weak to support them both and tripping Nyota with her own two feet. He tried to catch her but his ancient frame failed them both. Unable to stop their momentum he carried them both into the trunk of a nearby tree, angling himself at the last second to shield Nyota from the collision. Pain shot through his arm and shoulder.


    Oof. Being an old man sucks.


    “Idiot. I can walk by myself!” Nyota said, clinging to his shirt.


    Liam felt blood rush to his ears, embarrassed at his hubris.


    “Ah, sorry Nyota. I forget you are stronger than I am. Please forgive me for thinking of you as a dainty human girl who needs my help.”


    Nyota buried her face in his chest, ears moving in ways he had never seen before. A moment passed before their chaperones assisted them, unintentionally separating the two.


    “Ah m’lord! Are you alright? I do not recommend holding hands when going through a portal. It can have some unpleasant side effects.” Chided Rhendal, shortly after passing through the portal.


    “Your warning comes a bit too late.” Said Liam, holding up his felinoid hand.


    One of the knights let out a chuckle, drawing the ire of lord and sage. Mumbling an apology thereafter. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    “Enough! We came here for a reason. Lett-uce away!” Snapped Liam.


    “Yes sir!” shouted the knights in unison.


    Armor lead down the path Rhendal transported them too. It was some manner of side road, a secondary thoroughfare for smaller wagons or walking travelers. Branches and boughs encroached onto the path, one more road-sign of Baron Green’s mismanagement. He should have hired more woodsmen to keep the roads clear, it would ease travel and increase trade. Ultimately paying a return on the investment via tax revenue. In its current state the path would have made for a perfect jogging trail, if not for the scent of smoke and distant whispers of alarm.


    At the sound of the first cry they broke into a jog, fires were deadly in this era. Since the local fire department amounted to a couple of buckets near the well. If a fire was not stopped quickly then it would rage unchecked until a mage intervened or it exhausted itself. Oftentimes burning entire cities before ceasing. Especially dangerous if the people that should be fighting the fire were occupied with monsters.


    “To me!” Liam cried, breaking into a run.


    Adrenaline filled his body, giving his sore limbs the strength to persevere. Long seconds passed as he ran through the woods, the trail winding this way and that, concealing their destination.


    Rounding a bend the city came into view, several dozen homes in front with a single immense cathedral dominating the center of town. No wall was in sight, leading Liam to the unerring conclusion that this was the northern town of Avignon.


    Or at least, what was left of Avignon.


    Flames licked a dozen homes, beginning to spread up their wood walls. Once the fire reached the thatch roofing a house would be unsaveble. Women and children ran to and from the well, running in a dozen incoherent directions as each family tried to save their own home. Limited water divided a dozen ways accomplished nothing. It was no use, half the town was already gone, leaving the newly homeless to wander aimlessly. Some tried to help their neighbors with buckets of water. From his distant vantage the people were scarcely larger than ants, and equally effective against the roaring flames.


    On the edge of town a score of uniformed Greenhaven militia formed a defensive line, keeping five immense creatures at bay with their phalanx of spears.


    The creatures were humanoid, if humans took a full syringe of testosterone and growth hormone every morning. They towered over the militia, with the shortest standing eight feet tall. Bare chested and nude save for animal pelts covering their loins, leaving their arms and legs naked to display rippling muscles. Tusks jutted from their lower and upper jaws, protruding a full inch past their lips. Wide mouths unhinged in roars, more like a crocodilian than human.


    One of the green body builders lunged forward, swinging a battle axe through three miliamen, shields and armor did nothing to hinder the blade. It plowed through them in a single stroke. Counter thrusts from the phalanx bounced off its green skin, causing it to laugh. A deep clapping grunt. The creature sidestepped a thrust aimed at its eye and plucked a militiaman from the ranks.


    His physique would have been more at home in a Mr. Olympia contest than a village skirmish. Except, the muscles were not for show. The orc lifted the militiaman by the head, lifting him bodily with a throaty hoot as it retreated. An odd tactical decision, that piqued Liam''s observation, quickly identifying the root. Cloth covered the creature''s chest, because it was female. He did not want to ponder its goal, and the way it was holding the man —whipping him around by the neck until he stopped resisting— made Liam’s heart thunder with anger. Raising his finger guns he aimed at the barbaric woman.


    “Pew…. Pew.” He said.


    Two bolts of lightning lanced from his fingers, impacting the nearest muscled assailant and striking her down. Muscles locked, jaw clamping shut through a lolling tongue before she died. Liam didn’t stop, Baron Green’s willingness to kill overrode his intrinsic compassion, causing him to act without hesitation.


    “Pew pew.”


    The first bolt struck another orc in the back, killing it so suddenly that he remained on his feet. The second bolt was not so kind, connecting with his neck the bolt routed to the ground, following the path of least resistance through his body. Electrical energy converted to thermal and boiled his bodily fluids. His eyeballs popped, steam roiled from his mouth and groin. Lichtenberg marks burned their way from head to pelvis.


    “OOOGGGAAARRRR” Screamed one of the orcs, noticing their fallen comrades.


    At the sound of the warcry four remaining orcs spun and charged Liam. Their sharpened battle sense warning them that he was a greater threat than all other combatants. They swung their axes with a bloodlust that Liam could not fathom.


    And the Green side of Liam took pleasure in their deaths.


    “I’ll kill every one of you cabbage snorters.” He sneered, leveling his finger guns with righteous fury.


    Emotions died as he shot the lead orc. It was a good shot, blasting directly through his left eyebrow. Causing Liam’s objective intellect to wonder if the orc experienced any pain before it died. Next came an orc holding a human captive, the man’s head lolled across his chest, broken by the monster’s indecent strength.


    “Turns out death by snu snu doesn’t live up to the hype.” Said Liam.


    Liam dismantled the next orc, shooting a bolt through its knee to trip it first, then blasting it with a bolt as it fell. The second bolt pierced the crown of its skull mid-fall, arcing through its entire body, from head to toe. Outright killing the being with a thoroughness meant to erase its soul.


    To their credit the orcs charged ahead, narrowed eyes and bared fangs undaunted by Heaven’s Wrath. You fools are braver than Arlet… No, they aren’t brave, they’re smiling! Liam realized with a start.


    Combat was their joy. Death, or the act of risking their lives for the chance of glory, excited the green horde. It disgusted Liam. Green’s memories echoed his lifetime of failure, bringing inadequacies into the limelight as he sought to burn them, using this newest conquest as a blowtorch.


    Time to end you all.


    Goaded on by Green’s pseudo-consciousness Liam brought forth more power, coaxing his lightning into a spear. Summoning more power than normal he tried to double the strength of his lightning, directing the energy at the solar plexus of the orc’s wonderously defined chest.


    “Pew.”


    The orc died, dropping to the dirt as its body slid up the trail for several feet.


    “One left!” Shouted Arlet, arriving at Liam’s side and edging forward. Expertly positioning himself on the far side of the trail from Liam, giving his lord a clear shot whilst remaining close enough to intervene.


    There was no need. Liam’s overcharged bolt had penetrated the first orc entirely, arcing into the second orc and boiling the monster’s brains so violently his skull popped in a cloud of steam.


    “Knights! Make sure they are dead. Rhendal! I see flames that you should master.” Shouted Arlet.


    At his command the knights ran forward, daggers, swords, or axes in hand. Throats were slit, spines severed with ferocious jabs and eager sawing. It was only then that Liam understood the size discrepancy of the orcs. His knights were muscular men, all over six feet tall, but the orcs made them look like children playing pretend in a sandbox.


    Rhendal merely yawned. Strolling behind the knights until he stood at the edge of town. Once there he raised his staff into the air, waving it in a circle. Flames from several of the houses leapt to his staff, not extinguished, but absorbed, stored for later use. The militia who saw him work dropped to their knees. Three of them broke down completely, weeping into their hands. A woman —covered in ash and soot— called to Rhendal, waving towards other fires. The old sage sighed and trundled off, taking two militiamen as escorts.


    “Damn these are tough, not sure we could have killed them without magic.” Said Lyon one of the knights.


    He wielded a two handed ax, lifting it above his head to bring it down on an orc’s neck. Blade met bone and stuck fast, locked in place; cursing, the knight planted a foot on the orc’s face, levering his axe free. It took two more blows to sever the orc’s head. Macabre work that Liam burned into his memory, noting the anatomical similarities to humans.


    They are anatomically identical to humans, I count the same number of vertebrae in the neck and their musculature seems to be the same as ours, abs, pecs, obliques. But oh man are they ripped! A human with that kind of definition would have a body fat percentage in the low single digits. Their muscles are far better developed, why did I kill them without trying to make peace. Thought Liam.


    Because they attacked first, and Green… Negotiations weren’t possible without more casualties.


    “My lord, the green giants are dead, we should move into the town and assess Avignon’s damage for ourselves.” Said Arlet, interrupting Liam’s thoughts.


    “What? Oh- right. I…” His voice trailed off as exhaustion hit.


    Mana deprivation punched Liam in the knees, sending him careening into the dirt. Arlet appeared at his side, slipping his cane into his hand while simultaneously lifting him from the ground. Preserving Baron Green’s dignity like the champion he was.


    “Walk slowly, do not let them see a Lightning Lord falter.” He whispered.


    Easy for you to say…


    Lyon, acting as Arlet’s sub commander shouted orders, directing the militia to form a line. A few of them began to shuffle about, falling into a line that was more like a wet noodle sticking against the ceiling. A stern look from Liam only confused the men.


    “Save your formalities! Search the town, rescue anyone trapped under the burnt houses! We brought a healer- Ah, Nyota.” Said Liam, catching sight of her gray ears near a wounded soldier.


    Healthy militia scattered, divided by their local leaders and the three knights. A chair appeared behind Liam, and he gratefully collapsed into it. Body aching like he had run a marathon, reopening all his lightning scars. Whatever progress Nyota’s healing had given him, was nearly undone by mana overuse.


    Oof. I overdid it. Liam thought, closing his eyes.


    Just a few moments with his eyes closed. A nice little catnap.


    ---


    While he meant to rest, he did not mean to sleep for hours, when he awoke the sun was nearly set. Nyota sat at his side, looking just as drained. Smoke rose over Avignon in whispy columns, and half the militia lay or sat on the ground. Utterly drained by the day’s events. Most bore some form of injury, and all wore old bandages. Proof that these people had been fighting for their lives without a wall or aid.


    This is so stupid. Absolutely pointless! Blackwood’s castle is closer to Avignon than Greenwood Keep! He should have sent soldiers, even if they only came to search for me.


    As he watched, one woman collapsed with exhaustion, falling to her butt and then slumping backwards into the street. Homes smoldered across Avignon. This was no victory.


    This was a defeat if he had ever seen one. At least we saved a few… Rhendal’s choice of portals was strangely fortuitous. Why am I trusting him at all? Turning to survey the town Liam visually scanned the farms. Avignon wasn’t large, but it served as a breadbasket for the larger city of Mont St Michel. Most of the nearby farms had been scorched, though that was not what concerned Liam most. His focus was on the number of people. Avignon should have had hundreds of citizens, whereas here he saw dozens.


    “Where- ack- ahem.” Coughed Liam, voice cracking from his noontime nap. “Where is everyone?”