《Chasing the Hurricane》


 Prologue: The Ghost Hurricane Comes

    Sometimes I look at all of this and wonder if this is how it''s meant to be.


    ¡°Please, let me in! Surely you must have some food in there, or some seeds, or something!¡±


    I start moving past the crowd of soldiers forming in front of the castle. There, at the front, is a single man. His shirt and pants ripped, entire body covered in dirt. The soldiers are trying to push him away, but he refuses to leave. I can''t let this get any uglier than it already has.


    ¡°I said fuck off, man!¡± Shouts one of the soldiers. ¡°There''s nothing to share! Didn''t you get your portions already!? Stop being greedy when everyone else also has so little!¡±


    ¡°They were stolen from me! That''s what I tried to tell you from the start!¡± The man screams, tears streaming down his dirty face, now. ¡°One of the addicts took from me, to try and bribe one of those damned Mr. Pleasures, no doubt! Why in hell aren''t you soldiers doing anything about them!? When did it become okay for a man to rob his neighbor!?¡±


    ¡°Look around, you fool!¡± Says another soldier, spreading his arms out, gesturing towards the rotting buildings, cracked streets, dying trees, corpses laying about. ¡°Does it look like we have the time or resources to go chasing after people right now!? Do you really think that''s how it is!?¡± He points to the castle behind us. ¡°What do you think is going on in there!? Think we''re throwing a fucking party!?¡± His anger finally boiling over, he shoves the man to the ground. ¡°Do you think we''re just watching the whole country rot, you ungrateful bastard!? You ever wonder to yourself that Emperor Raul gave all he could already? That he regrets making things this way, because it was his laws that made it happen!? Oh, no, you have no one else to blame so you come to us! You come to us who have starving families, don''t know what the fuck to do, just like you! But you don''t care about that do you! Huh!? You piece of shit!¡±


    The soldier grabs the man, and starts punching him. At this point, the other soldiers start to get even more agitated, some moving to try and help the man, while others go to join in on beating him. I can''t let this go on any longer.


    ¡°Enough!¡±


    When the soldiers hear that, none of them make another move. Right away, they move aside so that I can get to the front. Within seconds, I''m standing in front of the man.


    ¡°S... Sir Agil, please, tell me there''s something you can do...¡± he tries to pick himself up and wipe the blood, dirt, and tears away from his face. ¡°please... tell me that you can help me. That''s why you came this way, right?¡±


    The moment I stand there, in front of them all, stealing the stage like a hero in the play, the weight of powerlessness is upon me, fast as light. Oh, how I wish I could be the knight in shining armor, right now. How I wish I could lift this man up, provide food and clothing to his family, make his house, this city, this Empire, a place where he would not have to worry about these things.


    There was a time when I believed I could do all of that. Now...


    ¡°I''m sorry.¡±


    I reach out for the man''s hand, and he takes it. I pull him off the ground, and, now that he''s standing, I start to lead him away.


    ¡°Wait! Wait, please! You have to--¡±


    Trying to force myself not to hear his pleas, I continue pushing him away from the scene. To actually try and listen to what he''s saying, to think about, and understand that this man and his family is suffering, that his wife and children could be starving to death even in this moment, that they may become prey for thieves, rapists, murderers, anything else... to think about all of that, and realize I can do nothing, to realize, even if I could for this one man, that I couldn''t for the millions of others who might have a similar story... the thought of it just might be enough to bring even me to tears. As much sense as it would make to cry in light of this, I just can''t let myself do that in front of my men. The way things are, that''s just not a privilege I have anymore.


    ¡°I''m sorry,¡± I repeat, again and again, the powerlessness I already felt pushing down even harder, now. So hard I feel that I can''t breathe and might suffocate. So heavy that I feel I''ll be crushed under it.


    ¡°Is it really that bad?¡± The man asks, starting to realize. ¡°Is it so bad that even Sir Agil, thelast of the Imperial Four, can''t do anything?¡± Going through my mind, desperately searching for the words to say to this man, I finally see that I''ve moved him far away from the castle''s gates.


    ¡°I...¡±


    ''I need to you to understand just how powerless we are,'' I might say. ''I need you to see that there is nothing any of us can do, that there will be no miracle, thatno hero will swoop in to save us. This is no fairy tale. There''s no happy ending. All that''s left for us is to die, slowly and pointlessly, lower than even the plants and animals.''


    I might say that... if I had it in me to face that truth for myself in the first place.


    ¡°I... I want you to have this.¡± I reach for the pouch tied to my belt, and hand it to the man in front of me. With some hesitation, he takes the bag, and opens it. ¡°You should be able to help your family with that much.¡±


    ¡°These coins...¡± he seems unsure what to make of it. ¡°There''s so many,¡± he says, with his mouth, yet his eyes seem to say, ''but at the same time, so little.'' He seems to have drawn the only conclusion. ¡°Sir Agil, is this all you have?¡± Finally, he understands the true gravity of the situation.


    ¡°Just take it,¡± I say, forcing myself not to go back on what I''ve just decided to do. One might call it foolish, but I couldn''t care less. Even if the next few weeks will be that much more difficult, even if I''m putting myself at risk, how could I endure this for a moment longer and not want to do something? If I could give this man even the smallest bit of hope to hold on to, anything would be worth it.


    His face is covered in shame and sorrow, now looking at the pouch as if it was something he was never meant to touch. ¡°No, there''s no way I can take this, Sir Agil,¡± he hands the pouch back. ¡°If even you... if this all you have, even one of the Emperor''s best men... if even you are struggling this much--¡±


    I cut him off, pushing the gold back to him. ¡°I promise you it''s okay,¡± I say, forcing myself to smile. ¡°It''s me we''re talking about, remember? The Unbeatable Sir Agil, the Shining Knight of the Imperial Four, overcoming any challenge!¡± Thinking of those old praises sung of me, I find myself chuckling. They sound so silly, now, considering how bad things have gotten, but I hope this man can believe in them, even just a little bit. ¡°This is just another trial for me to triumph over. There is nothing to worry about.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°I don''t know what to say, Sir Agil, I...¡± he is still hesitating. Maybe I''m even worse at making myself look good than I thought. ¡°I''ll take it. I promise this gold won''t go to waste, Sir. Even if this is all you can do, you''re a saint. I thank you deeply.¡±


    I smile at the man, hearing this. He returns my smile. ¡°Don''t mention it, my good man. Go on, now, and do be more careful of thieves in the future.¡±


    ¡°I will, and thanks again!¡± Finally, he starts to walk away from here. I can see renewed life in his step. A bit more hope... I pray that it will be enough. It''s a little contagious, as I''m feeling somewhat better, myself.


    ¡°Well, I guess that''s that.¡± I go walking back to the castle again.


    Now, this is all I can do.


    Back inside the castle, the soldiers have been waiting for me to return.


    ¡°So you handled it, Sir Agil? Thank you, some of us didn''t know what to do,¡± says one soldier, wiping sweat from his face. One of the younger ones, it looks like. He can''t be older than thirteen. The simple fact that a boy that young stands in front of me, fully suited up and armed for battle, says more than any words can, I''m sure.


    ¡°Yeah, glad I could help,¡± I say, my eyes starting to drift from the young man who spoke to me, to the rest of them, standing there. ¡°Everyone, listen.¡±


    Hearing that, the rest of them come closer to me. ¡°What is it, Sir Agil?¡±


    ¡°Men, please, don''t fight these people. I know how irritating it is, for them to keep clamoring to you, I hear them demanding the impossible, but--¡± I can hear some of them sighing and letting out loud groans of discontent. I hold my hand up for silence.Once they''re quiet again, I continue speaking.


    ¡°...but keep in mind that they''re just as tired and desperate as we are. We all know we''re running out of options, but people just can''t help themselves. I''m asking you to understand. This has been a trying time for all of us. If we hurt them, it will only get worse and worse.¡±


    ¡°I don''t know how much more of this I can take, Sir Agil,¡± says one of the older ones. Looks about sixteen. To think, at about that age I had just begun to swing my sword. Here this boy is, looking like he''s seen Hell. It''s such a shame. ¡°I hate this. Wasn''t Clawscar supposed to be the greatest Empire in the world? Wasn''t Raul''s Law supposed to keep us living in prosperity for years and years to come? Where did everything start going wrong? Why can''t we fix things somehow?¡±


    ¡°I wish I had an answer, my friends. It''s because we still don''t have those answers, that we have to hang in there until we can find one.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like something Rune Master Grandall would have said,¡± says another. This one is a teenaged girl. ¡°What a fine mess he''s decided to leave us in. I wonder, what kind of wisdom would he have to share with us, if he were still here?¡±


    ¡°Maybe that''s why he went away,¡± says yet another young soldier, ¡°maybe he went looking for a solution to fix everything.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe he just got off the sinking ship!¡± The older boy who spoke earlier throws his helmet down, saying this. He starts walking away. ¡°Maybe they all did, the rest of the Four. Can''t say I blame them. I''d do the same if I knew where this place was headed.¡±


    ¡°I understand that you''re upset, but there''s nowhere for us to run, anymore. Wingsgrave Island won''t have anything to do with us anymore, and do you really want to go north? Really?¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ªbut that''s... damn.¡± He stops right there, running a hand through his hair in irritation.


    ¡°Understand what I''m saying? Besides, who knows? Maybe some kind of solution will become clear in time, so long as we just--¡±


    ¡°Ssh! Anyone hear that?¡± Says one of the soldiers, suddenly.


    ¡°I definitely hear something... sounds like someone screaming, maybe?¡± Says another.


    ¡°Probably just the wind,¡± says one more.


    ¡°Let''s check outside.¡± I go walking out of the castle once again.


    Indeed, the moment I step out, there is a powerful wind blowing. I look up to see the night sky''s stars hidden by clouds. What''s happening? The sky was clear just moments ago.


    ¡°What is it, Sir Agil?¡±


    ¡°Stay inside! Something isn''t right!¡± I look around, to my right... to my left... wait!


    ¡°That''s...!?¡±


    There''s a storm raging to the east, screaming, destroying, coming this way fast. I''ve never seen a storm like this before! Could it be some kind of Runic Art?


    ¡°Everyone, stay in there! The storm will be on us soon!¡±


    Even sooner than I thought. Before I can get a proper grasp of what''s happening, the buildings around me start to crumble, the wind gets fiercer and fiercer still.


    ¡°!?¡±


    Within a blink of my eyes, I feel a sensation that I''m unable to breathe. As I desperately try to in spite of the fact that I''m not able, I suddenly feel that my feet aren''t on the ground. I''m blown about by the storm, losing my sense of up and down, flying around like a leaf in the breeze. Wailing... howling... the world blurs before my eyes...


    Everything goes black. Have I passed out? Is everyone else alright...?


    ¡°Sir Agil! Sir Agil, are you still with us!?¡±


    I open my eyes suddenly, and breathe deep. Somehow, I''m still alive. The young soldiers are standing around me.


    ¡°What''s happened? Are all you alive?¡±


    ¡°Most of us are unhurt, but the castle was hit pretty hard by the storm, and--¡±


    ¡°The Emperor!!!¡± With strength I wasn''t sure I''d have after being hurt so badly, I push past them, and go running into the castle. ¡°Raul! Emperor Raul, answer me! Come on!¡± God dammit, please don''t tell me...


    I burst into the throne room.


    ¡°Emperor Raul!¡±


    ¡­everything''s destroyed. Windows shattered, the throne itself rusted away. Laying where the throne once was...


    ¡°Oh, no...¡±


    Emperor Raul is here. Was. That, laying there, is only a corpse. The man I was meant to protect is gone.


    ¡°WHY!?¡±


    As if expecting to find someone who might be responsible, I look around, frantically...


    ...and in fact, my eyes do find something. Or rather, someone.


    ¡°!?¡±


    Covered in a blood red cape and black armor, they stand there, at the window.


    ¡°That red cape... wait!¡±


    My words go unanswered. Before I can go running for them, they disappear, just as quickly as they appear in my sight. A crushing silence is upon me. As if by a snap of one''s fingers, the last reason I had to fight has been ripped from me. God damn it all!


    ¡°That red cape...¡±


    I remember the red cape. That couldn''t have been him, could it...?

 Chapter 1: Never Done Learning

    ¡°Well, Yrza, how are your studies going today?¡±


    I look up from the book and see Master Grandall standing there, stroking his long beard.


    ¡°Okay, I''d say.¡± Having gotten as much as I could out of this one, I close the book and stand to return it to its place on the shelf. ¡°I think I''ve read everything you have on this subject, but it''s still not enough.¡±


    ¡°I take it you''re talking about the Ghost Hurricane?¡± Grandall asks. In response to his question, I nod. ¡°I should have guessed.¡± He rubs his forehead, seeming a bit tired. ¡°I swear, you''re obsessed with this, my boy. Half of the time I see you in this library, that''s what you''re reading about. If not that, then you''re usually studying the maps so that you can go traveling across the Corpse to learn more.¡±


    ¡°I mean, personally, I can''t imagine anyone who wouldn''t be fascinated by it,¡± I say, finding the empty spot and putting the book back where it was. ¡°The whole incident was just so mysterious, don''t you think? I just hate how there''s so little information about it. Like it''s just... another thing that happened.¡±


    ¡°When you get right down to it, couldn''t you say that that''s all it was?¡±


    ¡°Do you not think there''s more to discover?¡± I ask, watching the old man''s expression. His calm face is the same as it always is. ¡°For a storm like that to appear out of nowhere, cause so much destruction so fast, and then disappear without a sign... even you have to admit that''s strange, right?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, that''s not normal,¡± Grandall says, ¡°but see, there''s a reason there''s not a lot known about it. I believe I''ve explained it to you before but in case you''ve forgotten, the Ghost Hurricane had hit in The LastDays of the Clawscar Empire. That it was strange would be enough reason for it to be hard to learn about, but remember, at that time, the arts of the intellectuals... the historians and all the rest, remember that in The LastDays that was dying out. Almost no one was writing about any of what happened in those days. No one was thinking about the future. Everyone was just caught up in enjoying the present.¡± He lets out a long sigh, as if meaning to expel his sorrow through it. ¡°Surely, you understand where I''m going with this, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you told me this before, Master,¡± I say, feeling a bit insulted that he feels the need to remind me, but trying to put that aside, ¡°and I understand. Still, isn''t that exactly why it''d be good to go and learn more about it, now?¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± Grandall says, with a nod, ¡°but where would you start to look? Remember, the Ghost Hurricane was said to come completely from nowhere, and then, suddenly, disappeared to nowhere again.¡± He shrugs. ¡°Where would you even begin looking for information on something like that?¡±


    ¡°That''s what I intend to find out. That''s why I''ve been learning as much as I can. When I get out there, I''ll be the one to record the truth of the Ghost Hurricane. I''ll do it the hard way if I have to.¡± I smirk. ¡°What''s to stop me from combing the entire Corpse for answers?¡±


    ¡°You dying,¡± Grandall says, with a chuckle. ¡°I''ll admit, you''re learning pretty fast. You know your way around a sword, no doubt, you''ve been getting good with the Runic Arts, and you were already a survivor when I met you, but trust me, you''re not ready for a journey like that, yet. Not even close.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, old man!¡± I shout. ¡°Just you watch, I''ll be ready to handle the Empire''s Corpse before you know it!¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Grandall asks, now smirking, himself. ¡°Well, how about you come and impress me, then? Now, let''s go catch a speedscale!¡±


    ¡°What!?¡± Oh no! Maybe I''ve run my mouth a bit too much. ¡°Uh, hold on, Master Grandall, that was... I mean--¡±


    ¡°Come on, where did all of that confidence go?¡± He laughs. ¡°You''ll never get far without a speedscale, you know?¡±


    ¡°Er, I mean, yeah, but--¡±


    ¡°Well then, show me!¡± He starts walking out of the library, knowing I''ll follow. ¡°If you can do it, I''ll stop making fun of you.¡±


    Ugh, he''s got me... time to go make a fool of myself. ¡°Yeah, here I come.¡±


    Here, outside our house in the northeast corner of the continent, we get quite a few speedscales, really fast, big lizards, running around in the open field. Enough life has returned to the land that green, healthy grass is growing, and quite a few of the trees out here have lived a while, too. I wonder how the rest of the Corpse looks? Well, anyway, the two of us have found some rocks to hide behind. I have the lasso with me and can throw it at any time.


    ¡°Remember, they''re not gonna run around near here forever, Yrza,¡± Grandall says. ¡°If you don''t eventually make a move, they''ll be gone for the day.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± I say, my eyes darting around, watching them as closely as possible. It''s not easy, though. The speed of these things really is no joke. I can''t exactly keep up with them.


    ¡°What''s wrong, Yrza?¡± he asks, smiling smugly at me again. ¡°You actually can''t do it after all, can you?¡±


    ¡°I... I got it, old man! Ssh! You''re breaking my concentration!¡± Seriously, this is difficult enough as it is.


    I watch them for a while. The crowd''s starting to thin a bit. Curses, I don''t have much more time before they all leave... wait!


    ¡°This one...¡±


    One of them is coming within the range of the lasso. I gotta take this chance! Preparing the rope as quickly as possible, I start to spin the lasso over my head. Just a bit longer... just a bit longer... now!The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I throw the rope at that perfect moment. I should have him. I grip the rope tight, ready to wrangle ''im in...!


    ¡°...¡±


    ...only for the rope to land on the ground.


    ¡°...dammit.¡±


    ¡°Ha ha ha ha!¡± Oh come on, old man. I know I look pretty stupid right now, but can''t you please give me a break? ¡°Yeah, I had a feeling this would happen.¡± As I watch the rest of the speedscales go running away, Grandall stands up from where he was. ¡°Y''know, Yrza, you''re still making that same mistake.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, legitimately unsure what I''m doing wrong.


    ¡°You keep throwing your rope for where the speedscale is,¡± he says, gesturing directly ahead, ¡°but the creatures are too fast for that. You need to try throwing it where they''re going to be.¡±


    ¡°How am I supposed to do that, Master? I can''t see the future, you know.¡± You haven''t picked up one of the prophets, old man. I am sure of that much.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can''t tell you the trick, but remember that I''m no prophet, myself, yet I can still catch a speedscale of my own,¡± Grandall says, and he is indeed telling the truth. I''ve seen him catch one before with my own eyes. I still don''t know exactly how he did it, though. Everything happened so fast.


    ¡°You can''t even give me a hint?¡±


    ¡°It''s really not that hard, Yrza,¡± Grandall says, smiling, genuinely, this time, ¡°you just need to keep practicing. I''m certain you''ll eventually understand what you have to do.¡±


    ¡°Here''s hoping you''re right about that.¡±


    ¡°Please, when was the last time I was wrong, Yrza?¡± He says, with a laugh. ¡°Well, let''s head back inside and get another look at your skill with the runes. You seem to do better with that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, still looking out at the field.


    Behind me, I can already tell Grandall is starting to head back. After one last glance, I follow him. I swear, I am going to get that right eventually.


    ¡°Say, Yrza, I never did tell you exactly how these runes work, did I?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I look up from the paper rune seal I''m making. This one I''m working on has a Fire Rune Complex drawn on it. I really should be making some seals other than this, but for some reason the fire comes naturally to me. Plus, I can see myself getting a lot of use out of fire Runic Arts. Cooking, a torch in dark places, etc. Maybe I could say that about the other elements, especially water, but for some reason I''m not good with that. ¡°Personally, I thought it was enough to know that our spirit energy charged the symbols.¡±


    ¡°Hm, you might be right about that,¡± Grandall says, looking at a book about the runes, though I would personally assume the man knows all there is to know about them already. Perhaps even he has to refresh his memory every once in a while. ¡°but I feel it''d be helpful for you to know how far runeology has come. Plus, you must have some interest in knowing more, right?¡± He points to the piece of paper in my hand. ¡°What do you think of the one you just made?¡±


    ¡°Like, what does it mean?¡± I ask, unsure of where he''s going. I hold the seal up with two fingers. ¡°This? It just symbolizes fire, doesn''t it?¡±


    ¡°That''s the simplest way of looking at it, and you''re not wrong, but that''s not entirely correct, either.¡±


    ¡°Hmm...¡±


    ¡°Yrza, think of the world, the way it works... as if it were a complex machine of some sort. Normally, everything in nature works the way it always has, but with the Runic Arts, we can make that machine work for us, in a specific way we ask it to, even if it''s only for a moment.¡± He looks at me, as if awaiting my input. ¡°Don''t you find it all very fascinating?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it''s interesting stuff and all, but,¡± I say, scratching my head, ¡°I''m pretty sure you''ve said as much to me before.¡±


    ¡°Take another look at that paper seal, or your left arm,¡± he says, pointing once more. ¡°Sure, you understand that that is ''fire'', but do you really understand what all the runes in that Complex mean? Do you know what each part of what you''re looking at does for the Art?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, you''re right. I don''t know what all of this means.¡± Well, duh, I probably should have figured it''s called a ¡°Complex¡± for a reason. I guess, with all these parts, these runes working together, Rune Complexes are kind of like machines, themselves, huh?


    ¡°Anyway, Yrza, what I''m actually getting at is,¡± Grandall says, waving his hand around to gesture towards the book he was reading, and the rest of the books of runeology he has. ¡°It would not be easy to make something like that work reliably, right? Runeology has a long, complicated history. There are all kinds of old chants and rituals that we don''t use anymore, because we started discovering all kinds of faster, easier methods, finding shortcuts, eventually leading us to the Rune Complexes we use now.¡±


    ¡°It''s a bit hard for me to imagine the Runic Arts being any different from what I''ve been using all this time.¡±


    ¡°And yet, it once was. We''ve made a lot of progress with Runic Arts over centuries and centuries... but there are still plenty of places they could still go.¡±


    ¡°How do you figure?¡±


    ¡°Well, there could be even more efficient methods that we haven''t discovered, yet. Plus, there are things that our current Runic Arts simply can''t do, like reverse time or show us the future.¡±


    ¡°I take it you don''t believe the prophets were Rune Masters, then?¡±


    Grandall shakes his head. ¡°I don''t. That''s beside the point, though. What I''m saying is, even though we''ve made a lot of progress, I still believe we''re nowhere near the apex of what we can achieve.¡± Something about the regret I see on his face tells me...


    ¡°...you''re not just talking about Runic Arts anymore, are you?¡±


    ¡°Right. One of the reasons The LastDays came about was because we mistakenly believed that our society could not be any better than it was at that moment. We allowed ourselves to stop growing, and of course, you''ve seen the result of all that.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Always remember that you''re never done learning, Yrza,¡± he says, getting out of his seat. ¡°Even I, as an grey-haired, eighty year-old man, am still looking for answers to this question or that. Hopefully you, too, will keep this in mind.¡±


    ¡°I definitely will.¡±


    ¡°That''s good enough for me,¡± he says, yawning. ¡°I''d suggest you take a break from training with the sword for today. You''ve already gotten so good at it that I don''t think I have anything else to teach you, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure, Master? I wouldn''t want to get rusty.¡±


    ¡°Your skills won''t rust over in one day,¡± Grandall says, laughing, ¡°besides, it would be good to give your body a chance to rest, I think. You''ve been going at it awful hard, lately.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess you make a good point.¡±


    ¡°Hey, like I said, when was the last time I was wrong? Ha ha ha!¡± Grandall finally leaves the room. ¡°Now, the rest of the day is yours. Use your time wisely, and remember not to stay up too late.¡±


    Feeling no need for words, I just bow in his direction as he walks away.


    ¡°Alright, give the sword a rest, huh?¡±


    Well, I guess I could keep exercising my mind if not my body. For now, I''ll head over to the library to read some more.

 Chapter 2: Bittersweet Departure

    And so, a few years passed like that. I''ve been fiercely dedicated to my training under Master Grandall ever since he took me in. I''ve been giving it everything I''ve got. Sharpening my swordplay to the finest point, studying the Runic Arts the best I can, reading up on history, going over maps, most of which were out of date when I first came here and even the newer ones might not be right anymore. When I finally get outside, maybe I should make a point of marking down any differences I see.


    I still haven''t managed to catch a speedscale, yet. There have been times where I''ve gotten close, but I still can''t quite do it, yet. I''ve been getting stronger, faster, more perceptive... I know I''ll catch one eventually. I just have to keep trying. So, I am planning on giving it another shot today.


    Well, I was.


    This morning, I wake up and go into the dining room to see that Grandall isn''t there. Breakfast hasn''t even been made.


    ¡°Odd... maybe he''s still working on it? I don''t smell anything, though.¡±


    Still, it can''t hurt to check. I go into the kitchen to see if he''s cooking, but he''s not there, either. This is really out of the ordinary. Grandall is always up before I am. Not once in these five years has he ever missed a beat, not a single time. Could something be wrong?


    ¡°Master Grandall?¡± I shout through the large house, walking from the kitchen, to the dining room, to the living room and on and on, but I haven''t seen him, yet. ¡°Are you still here?¡± He''s not the type who would suddenly up and leave without saying anything, either. He must still be in the house.


    I head upstairs, and to his chambers, the last place to check. Usually I don''t like barging in on him like this, but I''m starting to worry.


    I pound on the door three times. ¡°Master Grandall, you in there? Are you alright?¡±


    No response.


    ¡°Master Grandall!?¡±


    ¡°...oh, it''s Yrza. Sorry about that, my boy,¡± he says, from behind the door. He sounds very tired. ¡°Could you open the door and let yourself in? There''s something I need to tell you. Don''t worry, the door is unlocked.¡± That''s the last thing I''m worried about... anyway, as I''m instructed, I turn the knob and push the door open.


    When I step inside, I see that Master Grandall is still in bed. The panic I was feeling already is getting worse, but I force myself to suppress it. I can''t keep it all down, though. Seeing Grandall like that, I can only assume the worst thing possible.


    ¡°Come closer, would you, Yrza?¡±


    I do as I''m asked. Getting a good look at his face, he''s pale, and it looks like he''s struggling to even keep his eyes open. It feels wrong, seeing the man I respect so much in a state like this. A hero of whom endless praises are sung, alongside the others of the Imperial Four... I can''t see that man with my eyes right now, even though he''s right in front of me. The meaning of this is something I just can''t bring myself to accept.


    ¡°I''m sorry, my boy, we''ll have to cancel your lessons for today. If you don''t mind, could you just study on your own? You''ll have to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner on your own, as well. It shouldn''t be too hard, there''s still plenty of food in the kitchen, and I''ve shown you how to cook it for yourself. D-don''t stress out too much about it, I''m sure you can handle all of that.¡±


    ¡°Canceling lessons? ''Today''?¡± I say, fighting back tears, but also feeling anger welling up beside the shock and sadness. What exactly I''m angry about, I can''t quite sort out right now to say. ¡°Well, what about tomorrow? Or the day after that, and so on? Are you saying this isn''t what I think it is, or are you just pulling my chain?¡±


    He sighs, realizing the mistake he made. I feel a bit bad for snapping at him like I did. ¡°I guess you are a bit too smart for that, I apologize for not thinking about that. Sorry, Yrza.¡±


    Instead of making a reply, I just go on listening quietly, for now.


    ¡°It''s exactly as you''ve guessed. I''m dying, Yrza. I don''t have much more time left in this world. I''ve got a feeling I won''t even last until tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°How... how can you be so calm about this, old man!?¡± Finally having confirmed my fears, I feel the tears run from my eyes. ¡°If you really are about to die, why do you get to be as composed as you always are!?¡± I wipe the tears away, but they just keep coming. ¡°Why am I the only one that''s crying!?¡±


    ¡°I''ve had far more time to prepare for this than anyone I know, Yrza,¡± Grandall says, as relaxed as he has been. ¡°I have been slowing down more and more these past few years. I''ve been trying to hide it from you so that you wouldn''t worry, so that you could go on growing without concerning yourself with an old man like me. However, it was only a matter of time before my age would catch up with me. With all the tricks I know, there''s still no cheating time for me.¡±


    ¡°I can''t do anything to stop it, can I?¡± I ask. ¡°I can''t help...¡±


    ¡°There''s no need, Yrza,¡± says Master Grandall, still somehow managing to smile. ¡°It''s not some sickness with a cure you can find, or anything like that. I''m just so very old, and so very tired. So, these are my last instructions for you. Don''t bother running yourself ragged over an old geezer like me. You won''t find any solutions, so for right now, please focus on yourself, for now. Second... I know you''ve been wanting to start your journey across the Empire''s Corpse to find the truth of the Ghost Hurricane. You may go as soon you feel you are ready. You have my every permission.¡±


    ¡°But what if I''m never ready!?¡± Now that he''s saying I can go, I suddenly feel like I''m not worthy all over again. The enormity of the goal I''m seeking finally hits me for real. ¡°I still have so much to learn!¡±


    ¡°No, Yrza. You have all you need. I am certain of it. If there''s anything you''re not sure about, remember that the library is still here. Remember to take anything you need, be it weapons, food, books... if you even think you need it, take it with you. Speedscales can handle more weight than it looks like, you know?¡±


    ¡°The speedscales... right. I''ll definitely catch one.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it,¡± Grandall says, closing his eyes. ¡°Yrza, if you don''t mind, could you leave me? I would... like to be alone at this time.¡±


    I go through all the possible reasons he could want me to leave right now, but I manage to find the one that makes the most sense to me; he wants me to focus on what''s ahead. He wants to put the thought of me grieving out of his mind, so he can rest peacefully. What kind of student would deny their teacher that one last thing? Understanding this, I walk away, leaving the room.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Yrza.¡± Just as I start to leave, he calls for me one last time. ¡°Remember that my passing will not erase me from this world. Though my life may end, I do not regret it. Without a doubt, I know my life has had meaning. You are the last proof of that fact, my boy. I only regret that I won''t live to see it. However, I know that you will grow into a man that I''d be proud to know.¡±


    ¡°...thank you, Master Grandall. The Empire''s Corpse will know that I am your student, and your history will not disappear, but grow even greater from this moment on. I promise you.¡± Wiping away the last of my tears, I finally leave the room.


    In the library, I''m having a bit of trouble concentrating on what to bring. I always pictured this moment, but it was always under much more cheerful circumstances. Master won''t be seeing me off like I had imagined. He won''t be here when I come back.


    ¡°...¡±


    Pushing those thoughts out of my mind the best I can, I grab a couple books on runeology, a book about Clawscar''s flora and fauna, the oldest map we have, and the two newest ones. I find some blanks I can use to write on, and I take those, too. Everything goes into the traveling bags I have.


    Next, I go into the kitchen, and I see that I have enough food for more than nine meals. I''ll cook three of those for breakfast, lunch, and dinner today, another three will be for tomorrow, which I''ll probably spend capturing a speedscale, and then what''s left I''ll save for when I start traveling. I might want to remember to take some of these utensils with me, as well.


    Breakfast was quiet this morning. It''s at this moment that it hits me, that Grandall and me, for these five years, we were all we had. I''m going to be alone, but when I leave, at least other people will be out there, and some of them might be friendly to me. That old man, though? He was alone for so long. He may have been one of the Imperial Four, but them they all went their separate ways. Grandall was alone when he met me, and right now, he is dying alone.


    ¡°He deserves better than that.¡±


    Then again, maybe that''s how he wanted it to be. He could have brought any number of orphans here to live in this big house, but he only chose me. He let only me travel with him to this place, taught me alone here, and took in no other students along with me, but at the same time, he didn''t seem to mind being alone. Some of the people on the Empire''s Corpse could be very ugly-hearted, evil people, from what I remember him telling me and from what I saw with my own eyes. Maybe to Master Grandall, dying alone was the best thing that could have happened. The thought of this makes me feel a bit better. Just a bit.


    After breakfast I prepare more Rune Complex Seals. I already have plenty of Fires, so I work mostly on Earth and Sky Rune Complexes for today. I was going to make some Water Complexes, but my spirit energy doesn''t seem to charge them well. In the end, I only end up making one. Making these seals takes a lot out of me, so it''d be good to stop here.


    Having passed the day quietly, I managed to make pretty much all of my preparations. Tomorrow, the speedscale. I crawl into bed, knowing this will probably be the last night like this...


    And so, it''s just as he said. When I woke up this morning, Master Grandall was already gone.


    To my own surprise, I''m not as sad as I was before. More than anything, I feel resigned to what has happened, and a sense of relief that he passed away as he wished. Looking at his expression, he died smiling, content. I''d expect nothing less from the man I called Master.


    ¡°Master Grandall...¡±


    Wiping away my tears, I find myself smiling a bit. Though it''s sad that he''s gone, his life was one that anyone would be proud to live. I can''t think of anything else he would have been able to accomplish. To carry on as a symbol of his legacy fills me with a pride like nothing else. With these thoughts in mind, I carry what''s left of him in my arms.


    ¡°Let''s go, Master. I think I know a good place.¡±


    There''s a small cliff near the house Grandall and I lived in. not a far walk at all, and it''s surrounded with life. I would imagine he''d be happy to rest here from now on. With the shovel I brought with me, I dig him as best a grave as I am able, put him inside, and then bury him under the dirt. I grab a rock that looks as close to a gravestone as I''ll get, and carve:


    RUNE MASTER GRANDALL


    8/18/5 A.H


    The best I can, though I definitely rushed a bit. This took me all morning to do.


    ¡°Just watch, Master Grandall,¡± I say, kneeling in front of the grave. ¡°I don''t know if you went to an afterlife, if you''ve started life anew on this world, if even any of those things at all. I just hope you somehow will get to see it. I will discover the truth behind the Ghost Hurricane. I set out on this journey, not for fame nor honor, but to be the proof that your teachings, my existence in this world has meaning. Everything that you taught me, I will carry with me. Thank you, Master, and goodbye.¡± With that, I stand, and leave Master Grandall to rest forever.


    The time has finally come to catch the speedscale. Keeping in mind everything I''ve learned, I sit behind that same rock, and wait for my opportunity.


    ¡°Here he comes.¡±


    There''s one coming right now. I''m not having nearly as hard a time as before. Just as I prepare to throw the lasso... the speedscale''s eyes... his feet...


    ¡°To the left!!!¡±


    Just as I had predicted, the speedscale makes a left turn. My right. I make my toss accordingly.


    ¡°Gotcha!¡±


    As the rope snaps tight around the speedscale, I''m suddenly pulled towards him. Jumping as this happens, I go flying in its direction, and manage to land precisely on its back.


    ¡°Aaah! Whoa, whoa, whoa!¡±


    I''m not done yet. The speedscale will still try to knock me off. I''ve got to hang on, here... this part could go on for a while; if what Master Grandall told me is true, some speedscales can keep this up for over an hour. I''m not letting this one go, though. I won''t lose my grip!


    I don''t know how long it went on, but eventually, it seems like the big guy has had enough. Both the speedscale and I go tumbling to the ground, completely worn out.


    ¡°Hah... see that? Now that you know how strong I am, looks like you''ll have to serve me from here on out. No worries, I''ll make sure you stay properly fed.¡± I''m able to drag the speedscale back home without a fight. I spend the rest of the day saddling him and teaching him the various commands. Thankfully once you show them your strength, speedscales will start to cooperate with you quickly, compared to other animals people use as mounts.


    Finally, the day is here.


    ¡°The Empire''s Corpse will know that I am your student.¡±


    Grandall had a special set of equipment for me for this day. I put on the beige robe and after that, the light, but durable leather vest that I can wear over it. The robe has the four-pointed star and crescent moon insignia on the left arm. Master Grandall himself used to wear the same symbol. I take the iron sword, one that I can tell has never been used, and strap it around my back.


    Before I leave for good, I find myself looking toward the cliff once more. I turn in that direction, and bow.


    ¡°Thanks again for everything. Rest in peace, Master.¡±


    Then, I run. As I do, I put two fingers to my mouth, then whistle. Within seconds, my speedscale is right beside me, keeping pace, waiting for permission to burst off at full speed.


    ¡°Kobo! Let''s go!¡± I hop on his back and take the reins. Kobo now runs onward at a speed I couldn''t dream to reach. Before I even realize it, the house I was in is far behind me.


    It''s August 19th, 5 years After Hurricane, or 5 A.H. Today, I, Yrza, set out to solve the mystery of the Ghost Hurricane. I will find the truth. I swear it.

 Chapter 3: Rather Waste Away

    Man, it sure has been quiet out here.


    Kobo and I have been riding for quite a few hours, now. As I''ve watched the world fly past us, I''ve seen little creatures running around, healthy trees, full of leaves... something I expect to change as I reach the more populated areas.


    Which brings me to my point. Speaking of population, I haven''t run into a single other human, yet. Is the rest of civilization that far out? Looks so much closer on a map... ah, well. Nothing to do but keep on riding in this direction.


    ¡°!?¡±


    Wait. Is that...


    In order to confirm what I saw, I tap the right side of Kobo''s head twice. This will make him slow down, and when he does, nearly skidding to a complete stop, I get him to turn back.


    ¡°A person. I was right.¡±


    One man, laying against a rock, wearing nothing but a pair of brown, torn pants.


    ¡°Alright. This way, Kobo. Slowly.¡±


    The usually speedy creature now walks toward the man at a relaxed pace. As we get closer and closer to him, I can see that he is not well. He looks like he hasn''t eaten a thing in days, and I can now hear him crying to himself. Maybe I did the right thing, stopping here. It wouldn''t feel good to leave this guy the way he is.


    ¡°That will do.¡± The speedscale now comes to a stop, just a little bit away from the man, still within the shade of the rock. I hop off of Kobo and walk towards the man...


    ¡°Ah--¡±


    ...but not without some hesitation. I breathe in something so horrid it almost feels like my nose wants to fall off. He absolutely reeks of shit and piss. The man probably hasn''t bathed in weeks, maybe even longer. Feeling even more pity, but still not being able to bring myself to get any closer than I already have, I take a seat in the grass right where I was standing.


    ¡°Hey, you. You listening?¡± As I speak, I snap my fingers at the man in front of me, leaning against the rock. The sound of my fingers snapping gets Kobo''s attention, something I didn''t mean to do... oops. ¡°S-sorry, not you, Kobo. At ease.¡± I hold my hand up. Immediately, he goes back to staring blankly at the two of us without moving. I return my attention to the man. ¡°You don''t look good, man. Might you need some food or water? I wouldn''t mind helping you a bit.¡±


    ¡°Ah, how miserable am I! What am I to do to stave off my sadness again? The wine has tried up, the whores have all left...¡± I''m at a loss. What is he talking about? I look to my left and right, then behind me, hoping to maybe see some sign of what he''s talking about, but there''s nothing. I think there''s no shame in saying that I''m very confused by this.


    ¡°Wha¡ªhey, are you deaf, or something!?¡± I shout, the vacant look in his eyes disappearing as he looks at me. ¡°If someone''s talking to you, you should answer them! Even little kids know that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, who gives a fuck about some water!¡± He shouts back. ¡°I don''t care, I don''t want water... I don''t like it.¡±


    ¡°You--¡± Wait. Something about this conversation makes me think back. I''ve read about people like this, and even seen a few when I was traveling with Master Grandall. There were quite a few of these people, who only drank, smoked, and fucked. At the worst point during The Last Days, there were so many of these people, sitting around, doing nothing but wasting.


    Truly fitting is the name that people came up with for them. They called them ¡°wasters¡±.


    ¡°Hm...¡±


    In other words, to stop here and try to help this man has been a waste of time. Just get back on your speedscale and ride off, Yrza. The closest town could still be pretty far off, after all. These are the thoughts that are going through my mind right now. That is what I probably should be doing, but...


    ¡°Don''t be ridiculous,¡± I say, standing up. ¡°I''ll be right back. You''ll see that you can live out here, and that all that stuff can wait until later. Just you wait.¡± I walk around the rock, and continue south. ¡°I won''t be gone long, Kobo,¡± turning my attention to him, ¡°stay put.¡± With that, I finally walk onward.


    Looking around, I see that this area is still very much alive. The trees are still full of green leaves. I hear all kinds of animals, the songs of birds, hooves walking over grass, and the buzzing of insects here and there. In the distance, I even hear the sounds of what must be rushing water. The Decay is supposed to get worse the closer I get to the capital, yes, but clearly this area hasn''t gotten the worst of it, not by a long shot.


    ¡°All of this, and he has the gall to cry over wine...¡±


    Whatever, don''t think about it too much. If I bring something back, maybe he''ll snap out of it and face reality. Could help me conserve some of my supplies, too--


    ¡°Whoa!¡±


    Suddenly, I lose my footing. The ground is coming quickly to meet my face. Thankfully, I''m able to catch myself with my hands before that happens.


    ¡°Phew...¡± I stand up once more and brush my hands off on my robe. I probably should have kept in mind that I''m going to have to wash this thing... hopefully I''ll be able to get my hands on a change of clothes or something eventually. I''ll just have to remember I might have to sew Grandall''s emblem into those, as well. It''s something to think about. I''ve actually never tried sewing, before. Wonder if it''s hard to do...


    ¡°Oh, wait... what was it I tripped over?¡± I start looking about near my feet. Behind me, on the ground, is...


    ¡°Whoa, shit!¡±


    Another person? No, wait. The rotting flesh, the smell... this is a corpse. This person is already dead.


    ¡°Gross... he could have at least buried them.¡± I wonder, could they have been someone he knew? He didn''t mention anyone else. Well... I guess I''ll worry about it later. I''ve got to keep looking for something good to eat. I''m starting to get a bit hungry, myself.


    ¡°Ah. Those red berries.¡±


    I see a bush full of them over there. I''m entirely certain these are safe to eat, as there were bushes like these closer to the house, and I don''t remember reading of a similar looking berry that''s dangerous. Let''s gather some of these...The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°...alright.¡±


    I don''t think this will be enough to fill us both up, though. Let''s see, what else is there?


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    As I think to myself, I hear hooves running again. Louder and louder. They''re coming in my direction. I see it just as it comes at me, and at just the right moment, I manage to leap over it. Now that I''ve got a good look at the animal, I can see it''s a boar, and a big one, too. This guy comes up to my waist. He''s probably angry that I was taking from that bush. He''ll probably come running at me again. I take an unarmed fighting stance. I won''t need the sword for this.


    ¡°Sorry, big guy, but you know the rules of the wild just as well as I do! Get ready!¡±


    Without hesitation, he comes charging right at me at full speed. Waiting for the perfect moment, I punch straight with all I''ve got.


    The boar squeals as my fist slams into its hard skull. I underestimated just how sturdy it might be. My left hand is going to hurt for a second. My attack seems to have worked, though, as the beast topples over, lifeless.


    ¡°Whew, that went well enough, I''d say.¡± I''ll remember to come back for it as quickly as possible. Now, let''s see about that water...


    After walking for a little bit, I come across the stream I heard earlier. Probably the cleanest water I''ll find out here. I take out the spare canteen I have and fill it with the water. I''ll head back, now, carrying the berries and the boar with me.


    ¡°Look what I''ve got!¡± I set some of the berries and water next to the waster, and lay the boar down somewhere nearby. ¡°You look hungry too, Kobo. Don''t worry, You''ll get to eat, too.¡± I start setting down the wood between the waster and me. That done, I decide to enjoy some berries, myself. I pop one into my mouth, chew, and swallow it. The sweet, yet tangy taste of it confirms what I thought before; these are berries that I''ve eaten before. ¡°Ah, just as good as I remember.¡± I look at the man in front of me. ¡°Well, what do you say, my good man?¡± I ask, hoping for a ''thank you''.


    ¡°Gah... what is this?¡± He asks, looking at the berries as if they were from another world. ¡°You couldn''t find any dreamweed out there, or anything like that?¡±


    ¡°How can you still be thinking about drugs right now!? Come on, man... shut up and eat.¡± Not looking back at him, I just continue eating the berries until my share is gone.


    ¡°I''m not hungry.¡±


    ¡°Tch... whatever. You''ll probably change your tune when you get a whiff of this baby, after I cook it.¡± I get up and walk over to the boar to start preparing it.


    ¡°I don''t need any food,¡± he insists, though I can see his body eating away at itself. Probably won''t be long until he''s but skin and bones. ¡°You know what would help me right now? For you to throw that robe off and give my prick a little ride for a while.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you!?¡± I shout, caught completely off guard by his comment. I just continue draining the boar''s blood, removing the intestines, and so on. ¡°Damn, man, those drugs and all those wild parties have done a fuckin'' number on you. You''re out of luck, anyway. I only like women. I''d tell you to just use your hand, but looking at you, I''d guess it might not work as well as it should, anymore.¡±


    ¡°Ah, don''t be like that, I used to say I only liked women, too, but after a while you get to stop being so picky. You''re not so bad, I mean, you''re a guy, but still pretty enough to kiss. I especially like the dark-skinned ones, so it''s even better. Come on...¡±


    ¡°I''m not having this conversation anymore.¡± I take a fire Complex Seal out, focus on it for a moment, and set it on the wood I prepared. The flame sparks to life in a matter of seconds.


    After I''m done getting ready, the boar is cooked and I eat as much of it as I can, giving some of it to Kobo, as well. I offer some to the waster, but he insists it''s not seasoned to his liking, which can''t be helped. The sun has gone down by now. Today has gone by much faster than I thought it would. I make myself comfortable on the ground, lay myself down, and go to sleep under the stars.


    I wake up in the morning to see that more of the boar has been eaten. That said, it was also immediately clear to me who had eaten more of it.


    ¡°Kobo, what are you doing? Come on, don''t be greedy,¡± I say, snapping at him exactly three times. He stops chewing on the boar and stands at attention.


    I sit up with a sigh, coming to the realization that the waster probably hasn''t touched a single thing I brought here. The berries are the same as they were before, and the spare canteen is still full. This is ridiculous. He really doesn''t care.


    ¡°Oh, for the love of all that''s good in the world!¡± He jumps at my shout, and stares at me like I''m some sort of monster. ¡°What in hell is wrong with you!? Look, man, I saw a corpse out there!¡± I point south, where I went hunting yesterday. ¡°Right now, you ain''t looking too different from it, you know!? What is it!? Huh!? Are you trying to end up like that!?¡±


    ¡°A corpse,¡± he mumbles, seemingly thinking to himself. ¡°Ah, so that''s where Tom got off to.¡±


    ¡°''Tom''?¡±


    ¡°One of my drinking buddies,¡± he says, as he sheds a single tear. ¡°He was the last one to leave. Traveler, there were other people, here, but they all left me, said the time for the parties and fun was over, or they just died. Tom didn''t leave, though. He said even if everyone went back to their responsibilities, we would still be alright here by ourselves. One day, he got up, said he wanted to see if there was any dreamweed growing around here. Maybe tripped or something. Never came back this way. So that''s what happened to him...¡±


    ¡°Damn...¡± I feel even worse for the guy, now. However, it''s exactly because I feel bad that I can''t just leave him here. ¡°So... you lived through The Last Days, didn''t you?¡±


    ¡°The Last Days? You mean when Emperor Raul put his Law into effect?¡± He asks, and I respond with a nod. ¡°Yeah. Y''know, some people have passed by here before, once in a while, talking about that time like it was a bad thing. Me and my friends had plenty of fun, though. Lots of dreamweed, liquor, women, or whatever was close enough, that day... but now it''s all gone.¡± He looks at me. ¡°Surely you had to have seen some of it and had some fun yourself? You look like you''d be around at that time.¡±


    ¡°I was ten when the Ghost Hurricane hit. Yeah, I was born during The Last Days, but Mother Marine kept me and the others shielded from most of it. So no, I didn''t get to really participate in much of that ''fun''.¡±


    ¡°Hm, a church kid, I see,¡± he says, chuckling a bit. ¡°Fuckin'' boring-ass church, ruining the fun. Kids like me were out in the streets with every one else and we enjoyed ourselves.¡±


    Wait. This guy I''m talking to... maybe he only looks a lot older because he hasn''t been taking care of himself? The way I''m hearing it, he''s not that much older than I am. For a child to have lived through The Last Days, exposed to everything... I''d rather not think about it.


    ¡°I must say, waster, this has been an interesting conversation,¡± I say, standing up.


    ¡°I''m... actually kinda glad to hear it,¡± he says, chuckling again. ¡°I don''t get to talk to anybody anymore, really.¡±


    ¡°Well, why not pick yourself up and go find more people you can talk with?¡± I ask, spreading my hand out towards the rest of the Empire''s Corpse. ¡°You''d have to work at it, but you could have many more meaningful encounters like this one. I''m begging you, just try.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I''m sorry, traveler. I just don''t have it in me.¡±


    ¡°You''d really rather stay here from now on? Alone and dying?¡± I ask, more disappointed than I''d be willing to admit out loud. ¡°You''d rather just waste away?¡±


    ¡°I just don''t see the point if I''m not always enjoying myself.¡±


    There are all kinds of things I could probably say to this man. I could probably tell him that I think a life of working hard would be worth it. I could tell him that he could reap great rewards if he applied himself. I could tell him I just don''t want him to stay here and die, because I came over here with the goal of helping him.


    I could tell him any of those things. But...


    ¡°Well, if that''s what you''ve chosen to do.¡± I grab what is left of the boar and stuff it into one of the bags I''ve attached to Kobo. ¡°The rest of this thing is yours, alright? I''ll give it to you when you get hungry again.¡± I pick up the water canteen as well, and put it in another bag. Getting on my speedscale''s back, I look at the waster one last time.


    Neither of us say another word to each other.


    With a sigh, I take hold of the reins, and give a flick of my wrist.


    ¡°Hyah!¡±


    With that, Kobo bursts into a sprint, soon reaching top speed. Within minutes, the waster and the rock are far out of sight... but not quite yet out of mind.

 Chapter 4: Maria Redwolf

    We''ve been running for quite a while, today, I just realized. With this in mind, I tap the right side of Kobo''s head twice. He slows down. ¡°You can take it a bit easier, for now,¡± I say to him. ¡°Would like to take a moment to take in this scenery.¡±


    Yes. The green grass, green leaves... they aren''t quite so green, this far out. While there is still some green, other trees are starting to get those orange leaves you see in autumn. Some of those leaves have started falling to the ground. Keep in mind, it is still August. I''ve started getting far enough that I''m seeing The Decay. Somehow, I still haven''t reached a single town.


    I reach for the map that''s inside one of my bags. According to the newest one, if I''m where I think I am, Redwolf shouldn''t be too far off. In fact, if I have Kobo run at full speed for the rest of the day, I might make it there before sundown. The thought of doing so is actually pretty tempting. It probably wouldn''t be bad to just do that, but...


    ¡°...I think I''d like to keep this pace for a bit longer.¡±


    There''s no rush. I still have food and water, and we could always make a sprint for Redwolf tomorrow morning. So there we go. My mind made up, I start to let myself relax, taking in the calm breeze blowing by, hearing the occasional dead leaf crunch under Kobo''s feet.


    ¡°What was that, you smartass little bitch!? Say that again and watch what happens!¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I just heard a man shout. Looking around, I see...


    ¡°Okay, I''ll repeat it so even a thug like you will understand; if you touch me, I''ll make sure you regret it.¡±


    There''s a girl, around my age, and she''s surrounded by three men, holding swords, knives, and axes. Bandits... this is going to get ugly in a second.


    ¡°Ha ha ha, woo, look at this, guys! We got ourselves a fiery one!¡± Says one of the smaller guys.


    A bigger man walks toward her, clapping. ¡°Fine by me. Those are the ones I like to teach a lesson!¡± He gets right in her face, saying: ¡°What, do you think God is going to send some help for you?¡± Well, maybe not God, but I am right here, and I''m pretty sure I can take these guys without too much trouble.


    ¡°You''re gonna see real quick why guys like us don''t fear God!¡± The third one draws his sword and licks his lips, definitely focused on having his way with her. Er... yeah, I''m probably going to feel like shit if I don''t do something. Let''s go over there.


    ¡°God''s not listening! Nobody is going to come and help your stupid ass! Come on, boys, you know what to do!¡±


    ¡°Hey, fellas, come on, all three of you ganging up on a vulnerable girl like that is no good. What say we even the odds just a bit?¡±


    Confused, the three of them turn around as I come riding closer. I hop off Kobo and draw my sword, continuing to walk toward them myself.


    ¡°Who the hell are you!?¡± They''ve mostly turned their attention to me, and are now ignoring the red-haired girl, who, from the look on her face, seems just as thankful this is happening as she is puzzled.


    ¡°Oh, I''m just a traveler passing by. Nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Ah, fuck, I swear I don''t like this guy already!¡± Now they''re starting to close in on me. I keep myself alert, waiting for any of them to give me a chance to strike. I look back again at the girl, who, to my surprise, has not run off, yet.


    ¡°Tough guy, huh... well it won''t be the same kind of fun we would have had with the girl but we can still kick his ass!¡± The big guy with the axe comes at me first. ¡°Make your peace, pretty boy! You won''t be so pretty once I''m done with you!¡± He swings his axe. A big, wide swing that leaves plenty of openings. I almost feel bad about what I''m about to do. Almost.


    As he brings his axe down, I step in, avoiding where the blade of the axe would land, and swing upwards. The warm, red blood raining over me, and the fact that I''m not hurt, means I did it right.


    ¡°Aaaah!!!¡± The axe he was holding falls to the ground, and his hand along with it. ¡°My hand! He got my fucking hand! Aaaah shit!¡± While he''s unable to fight back, I jab him right in the face, sending him tumbling back, then I bash him over the head with my hilt. These guys are scum, but I''d still rather not kill them if it can be helped.


    ¡°What!? You son of a bitch!¡± Now, it''s the one wielding the sword. He''s faster than the other guy, but it''s nothing I can''t keep up with. He quickly thrusts his sword forward, but I step to the side and trip him with my right foot, knocking him off balance. Then I kick him in the face while he''s down, which seems to knock him out. As for the guy with the knife...


    ¡°Uh...¡±


    Curious as to what he''ll do next, I find myself smirking at him, daring him to make a move. Must look far scarier than I thought, because he actually looks fearful for his life.


    ¡°No, no! Please don''t!¡± With that, he runs off, leaving his buddies behind. Guess these three weren''t all that tight. I can''t quite explain why, but I get a bit of a laugh out of all this.


    ¡°Well, I guess that takes care of that.¡± I sheathe my sword, having no more need for it in this moment. As for the girl...


    ¡°...you''re still here?¡±


    ¡°Well, it seemed like you had it under control,¡± she says, laughing herself. ¡°Plus, it wouldn''t do to run away without thanking you properly, kind sir.¡±


    Oh, please. I''m no ''sir''. ¡°I could have come find you afterwards, you know.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but why put you through the trouble?¡± She starts walking closer.


    ¡°Actually, I would rather walk away from here. There''s no telling when these guys will get back up, after all.¡± I mean, I''m sure I could deal with them again if it came to that, but if given the choice, I''d rather not.


    ¡°Hmm... yes, you''re right. Okay. Would you mind if I followed along for a while?¡±


    ¡°For now, not at all.¡± I snap at Kobo exactly three times, getting his attention. ¡°I''ll be walking on foot, so just follow behind closely, okay?¡± Immediately understanding, he does so.


    ¡°Thanks again,¡± she says as we continue walking. ¡°I''m Maria Redwolf.¡±


    ¡°Redwolf?¡± I ask. To think I''d so randomly chance upon meeting someone with that name. ¡°Then, you wouldn''t happen to be related to...¡±


    ¡°That''s right,¡± Maria says, ¡°the town of Redwolf belongs to my father. He''s a very generous, and very powerful man. I''m sure he''d have some reward for you for helping me.¡±


    ¡°I''m honored to be in the presence of someone so important.¡± At least, I feel like that''s what I should be saying right now.


    ¡°Oh, please, you''ll make me blush, traveler,¡± she says, hiding the red of her cheeks behind her hands. ¡°My father and brother are the great ones. I am just Maria.¡±


    ¡°Still, pleased to meet you all the same,¡± I say, honestly feeling a bit awkward. I can''t quite get a read of this girl just yet.


    ¡°I''m proud to hear it,¡± she says, smiling. ¡°May I have your name, traveler?¡±


    ¡°Yrza. No last name.¡±


    ¡°Hm...¡±


    ¡°So, what were you doing out here, Maria? If you don''t mind me asking, of course. Are you on some kind of journey, too?¡±


    ¡°Ah, how shall I say this... the whole story is a bit embarrassing, really,¡± she says, blushing again.


    ¡°Well, if you tell me, I promise I won''t laugh.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± She sighs. ¡°Do you of Doctor Cook?¡±


    ¡°Never heard of him.¡± It''s been years and years since I''ve been out onto the Empire''s Corpse, and I''d imagine that there was a lot of news that never made it our way.


    ¡°He''s an alchemist who has been working on some kind of formula that, if he succeeds, should help heal the dying land of the Empire''s Corpse.¡±


    ¡°Hm, is such a thing possible?¡± I don''t really have any memories of what Clawscar was like before The Last Days. However, if it''s possible to get it as beautiful as the adults used to always say it was before things went to shit, I have to admit that I would like to see it happen.


    ¡°Well, Cook and my father sure are saying it is.¡± Maria opens the pouch on her belt and shows me what''s inside. ¡°I was supposed to go to the Old Capital and give him these to help fund his research."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I look at the shimmering gold coins inside the pouch. They have little birds engraved onto them, rather than the four claw marks I''ve seen more often. ¡°Hm. These aren''t scars, are they?¡±


    ¡°No. Birdies. The funding is coming from our neighbors in the south.¡±


    ¡°Wingsgrave, huh. I wonder, what is the situation like over there? Your father, Lord Redwolf, does business with them often, doesn''t he? What does he say about them?¡±


    ¡°From what I can tell they''ve really been putting their nation back together,¡± she says, tying the pouch closed once again. ¡°It''s funny, they used to rely so heavily on Clawscar, now it''s starting to seem like it''s the other way around.¡±


    ¡°A lot of the bullshit that went on in The Last Days really messed with things.¡±


    ¡°You''re right.¡±


    Wait a second. Why do I feel like I''m forgetting something? ¡°Hmm... so what''s so embarrassing about all that? Seems like you''re on a pretty interesting journey, to me.¡±


    ¡°Well, uh...¡± Maria looks away, blushing even more than before. ¡°See, I wasn''t sent out here by myself, you know? At first, there was a bodyguard out here with me, but at some point between last night and this morning he chickened out and ran off.¡± She sighs. ¡°He took my speedscale and almost half the food, too...¡±


    ¡°Oh. Damn...¡±


    ¡°It''s just too rough out here for a pretty little thing like me. What am I gonna do?¡±


    ¡°Hm, I dunno. It can be pretty harsh.¡±


    ¡°...oh, hey!¡±


    ¡°Huh? What is it, Maria?¡±


    ¡°You came from the southeast, didn''t you?¡± She asks, pointing in the direction she saw me ride in from. ¡°I heard there was a very powerful Rune Master who lived in a big house over there. It''s more than a little out of my way, but if I went to see him, maybe he could help, somehow? What do you think, Yrza? Should I try to go and see him?¡±


    I try not to look sad, but it must show on my face, anyway, because after looking at me when she asked that, she looks very worried.


    ¡°What is it? Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°I, uh,¡± I stumble over my words a bit, the sadness over what happened coming back up to the surface after I was starting not to feel it so bad. ¡°I''m sorry, Maria. You must be talking about Rune Master Grandall. He might have helped you if you could see him, but he passed away a few days ago.¡±


    ¡°Wha--¡± Maria is taken aback. Clearly, this wasn''t what she was expecting to hear. ¡°Oh, that''s so sad... I used to hear stories about Grandall a lot when I was little. It''s a bit difficult to think that he''s dead.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, things haven''t been very simple for me, either.¡±


    ¡°Did you know him personally?¡±


    ¡°I knew him well, yes,¡± I say, pointing to the emblem on my left sleeve. ¡°I was his last student.¡±


    ¡°Oh... I''m very sorry. It must be really hard for you.¡±


    ¡°I''ll be alright.¡±


    And so, just like that the conversation suddenly peters out. After a few moments, we both become aware of the uncomfortable silence we''re now stuck with. I think to try and say something, but no words are coming to mind. Maria stares at me with those brown eyes, seemingly wanting to say something herself, but she seems just as paralyzed.


    With neither of us saying anything, I just start walking away.


    ...well, I was going to.


    ¡°Maria, what are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Yrza, come with me!¡± She''s grabbed me from behind. I can''t quite shake her off. Well, maybe I could, but I don''t know if I''d do it without hurting her. ¡°You can''t let me go by myself! Please, help me just a bit more!¡±


    ¡°I''ve got my own journey to be going on right now, Maria. My path was going to take me to Redwolf.¡±


    ¡°I believe there''s a town north of here that you can still get to within a reasonable time. It was on one of the newer maps I''ve seen. Please, can''t you at least help me make it there?¡±


    ¡°There isn''t a town like that on my map,¡± I say, knowing full well my newest map may be out of date. ¡°I''m going to assume the map you saw was newer, but that was stolen from you, too, wasn''t it?¡±


    ¡°Y... yeah.¡±


    When she hears me sigh, she seems to cling to me even tighter.


    ¡°Come on, Yrza! You''re lonely, too, right? You could use some company, couldn''t you? I still owe you for saving me from those bandits. Maybe I can...¡±


    ¡°...are you saying what I think you''re saying!?¡±


    ¡°Uh--¡± As if she''s only just realized the kind of tone she''s set, Maria suddenly lets go of me, looking more embarrassed than ever. ¡°Sorry! I¡ªI''m sorry! It came out wrong!¡±


    ¡°Ugh...¡± I snap my fingers three times. ¡°Come on, Kobo, let''s go.¡±


    ¡°Aaaah! No!¡± As I start to walk away from Maria, she ends up clinging to my leg. Does she not realize how bad a look this is? ¡°No, no, no, please don''t leave me here! If I mess this up, father will be so upset with me! Who knows what kind of wild punishment he''ll cook up if I go running back home!¡±


    ¡°Maria--¡±


    ¡°Pleeeeease! I could actually die out here!¡±


    ¡°Aaaah! Alright, already! Just stop screaming!¡±


    ¡°Really!? Yay!¡± Within seconds, Maria''s off the ground, hugging me so tight I feel she might just snap me in two. ¡°You''re the best, Yrza! Thanks so much!¡± I barely manage to pry her off.


    ¡°Alright, alright, if we wanna make it to that town we''d better make tracks fast. First thing''s first, though...¡± I reach into one of the bags Kobo is carrying and take the oldest map out of it, along with a newer one. ¡°So, the newest map doesn''t have anything in this spot, but there was a place called Janestown in... this spot, here, according to the older map. They rebuilt it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It was destroyed in the Ghost Hurricane, but people are starting to settle there, again. I''ve heard it''s become a pretty decent-sized town by now.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I say, putting the maps back. ¡°We should make the trip to Janestown in about a day, I think.¡± Seemingly having come to the realization that Maria''s going to be coming along, Kobo has been watching her for a while, now. ¡°Don''t worry about her, Kobo, this girl is alright.¡± I climb into the saddle. ¡°Hop on.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± She seems a bit nervous about getting on the speedscale, but she does so, anyway, wrapping herself around me once she''s seated. I do wish there was a more comfortable way for us to ride, but for now, it can''t be helped.


    ¡°Hyah!¡±


    And so, we take off at full speed, for Janestown.


    We''ve been riding for hours, now, and I see the sun setting. It might be a good idea to make camp soon. I tap the right side of Kobo''s head twice to tell him to slow down.


    ¡°Maria?¡±


    ¡°Hm? What is it?¡± She asks, sounding a bit tired. It probably would be good to rest, for her sake, as well.


    ¡°We''ll camp around here tonight, okay? You can get off if you want, I''m gonna scout the area real quick and gather some stuff. Go ahead, I''ll be right back.¡±


    ¡°Mm-hm...¡± Maria slowly gets off and goes to sit under a nearby leafless tree. While she sits there, I go ahead and look around for wood and stuff I can use for fire. It only takes a moment for me to find a decent amount. I don''t see any bandits out here, or dangerous animals, either. This is a fine place to camp, I''m sure.


    I set the fire up and... wait, before I forget...


    ¡°Nice work today, Kobo,¡± I say, reaching in the bag with the boar meat in it. ¡°This is yours.¡± I set it in front of him, and he immediately starts eating it. ¡°As for me...¡±


    ¡°Yrza,¡± Maria says, suddenly.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Here.¡± She reaches in her traveling bag and produces two packs of dried meat from it, giving one to me.


    ¡°Wait. Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°It''s okay,¡± she says, opening her own, ¡°I''m sure I''ll be able to get more food once we reach Janestown. Plus, I don''t feel right leaning on you like this and giving you nothing in return. Please, conserve your food. I''ll share with you tonight.¡±


    I''m actually kinda moved by this. Maria struck me as a bit more selfish, at first, but maybe I''ve misjudged her. I should probably try being nicer. ¡°Thank you. I really appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°It''s the least I could do,¡± she says, smiling.


    Once we''ve finished eating, I notice that Maria has been staring at me for a moment. ¡°What is it, Maria? Do you need something?¡±


    ¡°Y''know, Yrza,¡± she says, resting her head in her gloved hands, ¡°I still don''t know what you''re doing out here, yourself.¡±


    ¡°Hm. You''re right, I didn''t say.¡±


    ¡°I''m curious. Will you tell me about it?¡±


    ¡°Sure, it can''t hurt.¡± Ah... where to start? ¡°So, Maria, what do you think of the Ghost Hurricane?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say... what do you mean? Are you talking about how little is known about how it came about and all?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, stuff like that. There''s just too much mystery surrounding it all. I''m out here because I want to uncover those mysteries. I want to know if there was some kind of reason for it to happen.¡±


    ¡°Huh...¡± she scratches her head, looking more than a bit confused. ¡°I''m sorry, Yrza, I don''t mean to offend you or anything, but this sounds like a huge waste of time, to me. I''ll be honest with you, I wonder about that from time to time, myself, but it''s not worth dwelling on because I have other things going on right in front of me.¡±


    ¡°Among other things, that other people are busy with other things is why I feel the need to do this myself. What if we''re missing something important, here?¡±


    ¡°I really don''t think so, Yrza,¡± Maria says, shaking her head. ¡°Well, maybe we are, but where would you even think to start looking? Who would you be able to ask? What if the answers just aren''t there for you to find?¡±


    ¡°There has to be something, I''m sure.¡±


    ¡°Yrza, why?¡± She asks. ¡°Why is this so important to you?¡±


    ¡°To be honest, I can''t easily answer that question, but I just feel like I''ve needed to seek out the truth of this for the longest time. After all, Master Grandall told me that people giving up on seeking the answers is part of what led to The Last Days in the first place. So I''ll find the answers to this.¡±


    ¡°I guess you have a point, if you look at it that way.¡±


    ¡°So, Maria, do you think everything in this world has some purpose? None of it? Something in-between?¡±


    ¡°Well...¡± she brushes her chin with her right hand, thinking. ¡°The Church of El Rey teaches that there isn''t a single meaningless thing in this whole world, but as to what everything means, only God knows.¡± She shrugs. ¡°I don''t know how much of that I still believe, personally.¡±


    ¡°You know a popular rumor about the Hurricane that even I''ve heard? The one that fascinates me the most? That there was a person who would appear along with it. If this really was the work of another human being, then I really do have to know. If they''re still out there, I would have to meet that person, and understand why. Like I said, no one else seems to be trying.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, fair enough,¡± Maria says, lying down. ¡°I''m tired, Yrza. Think I''ll go to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Okay, get some rest. Sleep well.¡± Saying that, I find myself looking up at the stars.

 Chapter 5: Welcome to Janestown

    ¡°Hey there, strangers! Welcome to Janestown!¡±


    After having been riding since sunrise, we finally arrive here. A friendly guard greets us as soon as we show up.


    ¡°Hello to you, too.¡± I hop off Kobo and watch as Maria does the same. ¡°So, do you folks take scars as money still?¡±


    ¡°Scars, birdies, we''ll accept pretty much any money here, so long as it''s real,¡± he says, still smiling brightly. I wonder, is he this friendly to everyone who passes through here? ¡°If you''re looking to spend money, traveler, the shopping plaza is right over there,¡± he says, pointing. ¡°Oh, and if you''ve got nowhere to sleep, I highly recommend the inn on the other side of town, affordable, service is great, we''re really proud of it. They''ll stable your speedscale for you, too.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, sounds good,¡± Maria says, now walking out from behind me. ¡°Yrza, I''m gonna shop. Can you get a room for us and everything?¡±


    Why is she talking like we''re still going to be traveling together? ¡°Uh, yeah. Don''t worry, I got it.¡± Better yet, why am I going along with it?


    ¡°Good.¡± She nods. ¡°If you need anything, I''ll be right over there, okay?¡± With not another word, Maria walks off.


    ¡°Ah... I need a break.¡±


    Seriously, what am I gonna do with that girl? Looks like I''m stuck with her for a little while longer. Well, I guess I can''t complain about it being so quiet, anymore. In a way, it''s not so bad.


    ¡°Come on, Kobo, let''s get to that inn.¡± Pulling on his reins, I lead him forward as we walk through the town.


    And what a lively town it is.


    It''s been so long since I''ve been around so many people. The sounds of people talking, children playing, laughing and running around, fill my ears. The people go about their business, socializing with each other or working on something, and they don''t seem miserable, either. Looking at this place, all the destruction that happened in the past seems like a far off memory. I can''t help but smile at this.


    ¡°Okay, Kobo, here it is.¡± After walking for a while, we reach the inn. Thinking about it for a moment, it would probably not be so good if I went indoors with one of these speedscales, huh? ¡°Kobo, stay put. I''ll come back for you in a second.¡±


    Walking inside, I see more people waiting and relaxing, here, while a few others are standing in line. Thankfully, I don''t end up standing behind them for that long.


    ¡°Good afternoon, and welcome to the Janestown Inn,¡± Says the woman behind the counter. ¡°Looking for a room?¡±


    ¡°Yes. A room for two, please.¡± She starts looking through the books. ¡°Also, I have a speedscale with me. He''s waiting outside right now.¡±


    ¡°Two people, and a speedscale, huh...¡± she writes something down in another book sitting near her. ¡°You''re in luck. Right now we''re offering a traveling party''s discount. We can get you a room for 50 gold scars a person, and the speedscale for an extra 25. We''ll take birdies, too, if that''s what you have.¡±


    Wow, that is very affordable. ¡°Thanks. I''ve got scars, and I''ll pay that up front,¡± I say, going through my pouch and digging the coins out.


    ¡°Thanks for staying. We''ll have your room ready in a jiffy.¡±


    ¡°As for your stables...¡±


    ¡°Around back, you can''t miss ''em.¡±


    ¡°Yup. Thanks again.¡± I start walking away--


    ¡°Oof!¡±


    ¡°Ah! Whoa, are you alright?¡±


    Whoops... just bumped into someone. The book and loose papers he was holding have fallen all over the floor. I start picking up as much as I can.


    ¡°Sorry. I didn''t see you, man.¡±


    ¡°Ah... it''s not a big deal. Don''t worry.¡± He gets up and starts picking up papers, as well. I look over and, before he picks up the book, I see the title of it: Forgotten Idols.


    ¡°Hm...¡±


    ¡°Alright, thanks for helping me clean up, stranger.¡± I hand him the pieces of paper I picked up as he says this. Looking at the guy, he doesn''t seem like the kind of person who would be carrying this stuff around. A tough looking man, with short brown hair and sideburns. His open shirt shows off his pecs and abs. Guess you really shouldn''t judge a book by its cover.


    ¡°No problem.¡±


    ¡°Hm? Wait, that symbol...¡± he seems to be looking at the four-pointed star and crescent moon on my left sleeve.


    ¡°This? Do you recognize it?¡±


    ¡°I''m not mistaken, am I?¡± He asks, looking at the insignia, then me. ¡°Do you have some connection to the Imperial Rune Master Grandall?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I was a student of his.¡±


    ¡°Amazing... to think I''d run into someone like this out here!¡± He grins, eyes lighting up as if he''s found the finest treasure in the world.


    ¡°Did you know Master Grandall, as well?¡±


    ¡°Well, I''ve always heard stories and read records, but I''ve only ever met the man once. Let me tell you, that was an interesting experience. I don''t think I''d have been out here, traveling, and run into you if I had never met him.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°I''m glad that there are people out here who can appreciate what he''s done.¡±


    ¡°And you actually got to be the man''s student,¡± he says, looking at me with admiration. ¡°We''ve really got to talk about this some more. I should get in line, though, Mister...¡±


    ¡°Yrza,¡± I say, understanding what he means to ask. ¡°No last name.¡±


    ¡°And I am Walter.¡± He reaches out with his right hand, and I shake it. ¡°Really, we must continue our conversation, sometime. You''ll be free later, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I''ve just got a few more preparations to make.¡±


    ¡°Good. I look forward to talking to you again once we''ve both got our hands free.¡±


    ¡°Yup,¡± I say, waving as I walk out of the door. ¡°I''ll see you later.¡±


    And indeed, some time after I''ve got Kobo in the stable, found Maria, and brought her to our room, I do.


    ¡°Damn, you''re serious, aren''t you? So, Rune Master Grandall is dead...¡±


    Now, as the sun sets, Walter is sitting in the room with Maria and I, invited by us.


    ¡°Yeah, it was just a few days ago. News hasn''t spread very far; I was the only one there when it happened.¡±


    ¡°Harsh... sorry to hear about that,¡± he says, taking a sip of tea. ¡°Though, I guess I shouldn''t be surprised. The man was getting to be quite old, after all. If I''m remembering right, he would be in his eighties, wouldn''t he? There aren''t a lot of people who get to live that long, especially not nowadays. He seems to have lived a pretty full life, and accomplished a lot.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. In the end, he seemed pretty satisfied. I guess that''s good.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Dammit...¡± Walter looks out of the window, maybe just watching it get dark outside. ¡°I wonder, am I gonna accomplish anything in this life of mine?¡±


    ¡°What makes you say?¡±


    ¡°Ever since I left home, I feel like all I''ve been doing is wandering, really. I feel like there has to be something I can do to help Clawscar, now that people are trying to rebuild after the Empire fell to pieces. Other people are moving on, living, healing, and I still haven''t figured out what I need to do.¡±


    ¡°If you want to help Clawscar,¡± Maria says, suddenly joining in the conversation after having been quiet at the start, ¡°then the Church of El Rey might be able to point you in the right direction. They''ve slowly been making a comeback post-Hurricane, you know?¡±


    He nods. ¡°Logically it does sound like a good idea to go to them, but, well, I hope I don''t offend, but the teachings of El Rey just don''t sit well with me.¡±


    ¡°What''s wrong with them?¡± Maria asks.


    ¡°The instructions for life seem all well and good,¡± Walter admits, ¡°but I just can''t get over all the secrets; they teach that only God knows the answers, right? That He may or may not tell us what everything means when He and He alone deems it the right time? Leaving all of that to God is just like giving up, if you ask me. I can''t stand it.¡± He sighs. ¡°Even putting things like that aside, while it is good that El Rey is helping, we mustn''t forget that they were powerless to do any good in The Last Days, and that some of their priests even became corrupt and participated in the horrible activities of the day. It''s not the case, now, but who''s to say something like that won''t happen again?¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess I can''t fault you for that.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you believe in, now?¡± I ask.


    ¡°That''s the funny thing,¡± Walter says, laughing a bit, ¡°I haven''t quite figured it out, yet.¡±


    ¡°Is that what that book and those notes were for?¡± I ask, referring to what I saw earlier. ¡°Are you searching for another religion or belief?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, actually. I''ve been doing a lot of research, digging up anything I can about old or foreign religions, hoping I might find what I''m looking for there.¡± As Walter continues speaking, he sounds a bit defeated. ¡°I''ve learned a lot of interesting things, so far, but I haven''t really found my path, yet.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hope you don''t give up looking.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I''m still looking, for sure,¡± he says, smiling again. ¡°I''ve heard an interesting rumor about this area. They say there are some old ruins out there, not too far northeast of this town. As the rumor goes, those who seek the path after losing their way will find it there, in the full moon''s light. The moon will be full tonight.¡±


    ¡°If you''re talking about going out there--¡± I start.


    ¡°Oh, I''ll be careful, don''t worry,¡± Walter replies, lightheartedly. ¡°Do I look like a guy who can''t take care of himself? It''ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Definitely. I mean, I know you two are on your own journey out here, right? I wouldn''t feel good pulling you aside for something like this.¡±


    ¡°But--¡±


    ¡°Yrza,¡± Maria says, suddenly. ¡°Let''s leave him be. You could use as much rest as you can get, anyway.¡±


    I let out a defeated sigh. Looks like everyone else has made up their minds. ¡°Okay, okay. Seriously, though, you watch yourself out there, okay?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Walter rises from where he sits, and reaches out his hand again, which I shake with my own. He shakes Maria''s hand, as well. ¡°It''s been nice, you two. I hope we meet again, someday.¡± With that, he leaves.


    ¡°He was a pretty nice guy, wasn''t he?¡± Maria asks, now that he''s gone.


    ¡°Yes, I agree,¡± I respond. ¡°It''d be nice if we eventually met him again.¡±


    ¡°All depends on where we end up going, I guess.¡± Maria walks over and sits on her bed. ¡°Hey, Yrza.¡±


    ¡°Hm? What is it?¡± I ask, watching her go through the bag.


    ¡°I bought you some more clothes while I was out there. They''re just plain shirts and pants, I hope you don''t mind.¡±


    Well, I guess that''s one of my problems solved. I didn''t even have to ask. ¡°Oh, that''s fine. thanks a lot.¡±


    ¡°I got the feeling that you want people to see your insignia, so I bought some thread, too,¡± she says, showing me the needle and spool. ¡°I''m pretty good at sewing, so I could try making that same symbol into these.¡±


    It''s like she read my mind! ¡°Aw, Maria, you don''t have to do that...¡±


    ¡°No, no, please let me. It''s just another thing I can do for you. You''ve already been a big help to me, so let me help you some more.¡±


    Well, guess there''s no point arguing with her over this. ¡°Okay, I understand. If you did that, it''d be very helpful.¡±


    ¡°Good! You won''t regret it,¡± Maria says, smiling. ¡°Oh, also, Yrza, this place has running water, and it comes free with the room. We can get ourselves clean and stuff.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that''s good! Guess it''s a bit more common than it used to be.¡±


    ¡°Well, Redwolf has running water and all that, but I just kinda assumed it was special for it.¡±


    ¡°I guess Clawscar is putting itself back together faster than either of us thought.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it''s pretty nice,¡± she says. ¡°Alright, so, while you''re washing up, I''ll get to work on cleaning your robes, and then you can have that back when you''re done. I''ll spend the rest of the night sewing your shirts.¡±


    ¡°And you''re sure about this?¡±


    ¡°Entirely.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I guess I''ll go.¡±


    After I''ve cleaned myself, I realize it''s already night, and I''m pretty tired, besides. After silently watching Maria sew for a moment (it doesn''t look like something I''d be any good at) I finally close my eyes and drift off to sleep...

 Chapter 6: A Search for Meaning

    ...but for some reason, I can''t seem to.


    Opening my eyes again, I see that the lamp Maria was using is out, and she is sleeping. I''d better be careful not to wake her. I slowly rise from the bed and, drawn to the moon''s light, I find myself looking out the window.


    It really is beautiful. I''ve never really taken a moment to appreciate the sight, but right now, I find myself enraptured. On this night, that huge sphere shines brighter than any star in this night sky. I can now understand why people have been so fascinated with the moon. A little bit, at least.


    And of course, since the moon shines so bright...


    ¡°...wait, that''s...¡±


    ...I can see what''s happening outside. I can see a speedscale running off, leaving the city, headed north... and I see Walter riding on it.


    ¡°Dammit, I can''t just stand here!¡±


    Sorry, Maria. Looks like I''m going after Walter, anyway. Hopefully I''ll be back before you even realize what''s happening.


    Running, I hurry into the lobby, where the receptionist is still standing behind her desk.


    ¡°You''re Yrza, right? Is something wrong? You look troubled.¡±


    ¡°There''s a rumor going around about an old temple that reveals its secrets in the full moon''s light, right? Would you happen to know where that temple might be located? Could you point it out on the map?¡± The map I have with me doesn''t help. I left the other ones in the room. Damn, I can be stupid sometimes...


    ¡°Wait, what''s going on? Calm down--¡±


    ¡°Please!¡± Losing composure, I slam my hands on her desk. ¡°It could be a matter of life or death!¡±


    ¡°What!? Wait, hold on, I can help. I just need a moment.¡± Immediately she searches through her files, finding the map that I need. ¡°This is it,¡± she says, pointing to the temple in question. ¡°Go there, and if it is dangerous, please be careful! I''ll let you borrow this map, but if something happens to you or it, my boss will kill me.¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry, no one will die tonight if I can get out there fast enough.¡± I take the map and run off. ¡°Thanks again!¡±


    Out at the stables, I''ve let Kobo out of his pen and I''m getting myself geared up.


    ¡°Yrza!? What the hell are you doing!?¡±


    Oh, no... looks like I did wake her.


    ¡°I''m sorry, Maria, but I can''t stand by,¡± I say, strapping my armor and sword onto myself. ¡°I just feel it down to my core... Walter''s life is in danger. He''s going to die if I don''t do something.¡±


    ¡°Take me with you!¡±


    Not exactly the response I was expecting to hear, but...


    ¡°No. It''s too dangerous. Anything could happen out there.¡±


    ¡°That''s why I''m going! I can help, so just bring me along!¡±


    ¡°I know you want to be helpful, but I can''t let you get hurt! Do you think it''d really be okay if I let something happen to you!?¡±


    ¡°Yrza, listen!¡± Maria shouts. ¡°You have no healing Rune Complexes, right!?¡±


    ¡°Wha...¡± I''m actually caught off guard. She''s been paying attention to my Runic Arts, even though I haven''t used that much since I met her?


    ¡°I''ve seen the ones on your arms. You can''t heal, can you?¡±


    I grit my teeth, feeling somewhat defeated. ¡°No. The healing runes would always reject my energy. I''m just no good at it.¡±


    Hearing this, Maria removes the gloves on her hands that she''s been wearing this whole time. I see two Rune Complexes, one on each hand. They look kind of like seven triangles, arranged in a circle, pointing out. I think the Church of El Rey uses a similar symbol, but I''ve seen this before elsewhere.


    ¡°Maria, you...¡±


    Before I can finish my sentence, she grabs me by the arms and looks me in the eyes. ¡°I won''t get in your way, and if you want to save Walter''s life, you will need me there. I''m coming with!¡±


    ¡°...okay.¡±


    I feel a tinge of uncertainty run through me as I answer her. Yes, I don''t have time to argue this, but is this really a good idea? Are we going to be alright out there?


    ¡°Alright, Yrza, come on! Every second counts!¡±


    Slapping my face with both hands, I try to snap myself out of it. ¡°Right!¡± I hop into the saddle, and help Maria onto it. ¡°Kobo! Full speed! Hyah!¡±


    And so, we ride off into the moonlit night. I hope we won''t be too late...


    What must be the temple is coming into view. After slowing Kobo down...


    ¡°Alright, keep going, but slower, and keep an eye out.¡± He does so. ¡°Maria, you see anything?¡±


    ¡°There!¡± She says, pointing left. ¡°I think I see him!¡±


    I look in that direction. ¡°Oh shit...¡± That spot is being swarmed by wolves. Do I dare...? ¡°Look, Kobo, I need you to trust me.¡± I grip my sword and start drawing it out. ¡°Run straight into the middle of that. Don''t worry, you''re not gonna get hurt if you do it right. We''ve got this.¡± I give him a kick to spur him onward. ¡°Let''s go!¡± Without hesitation, he goes running right into them. It doesn''t take long for the wolves to realize other foes are approaching. Before they can react, however, I swing my sword, clearing the way and cutting a few.


    ¡°Damn, I got careless,¡± Walter says, seeing us, keeping his hand on his waist dripping red. He''s sitting on the ground next to his wounded speedscale, and breathing heavily. I hop off of Kobo and slash at a few more of the wolves, giving us some space.


    ¡°Everyone! Don''t let them see your backs!¡± If they see us running away, it''ll be a short chase. We''ve got to fight them off right here. As we stand in a circle, the wolves still living closing in, I start thinking of what I can do about this.


    Looks like I didn''t bring any Rune Complex Seals with me. That''s fine, though. What I''m trying to do should still work. I focus on my sword and the left hand that''s holding it. Power of the universe, bend to my will! I command the power of fire!


    The fire Rune Complex on my arm lights up, and in seconds, I can feel the power of the fire. I continue my focus on the sword, and, right before my eyes, it is ignited. Another light in the night in my hands, certain to burn anything I touch with it. The wolves seem to be given pause at the sight of this, but before any of them can decide they want to attack us...


    ¡°All of you, get down!¡± Just as they do that, I swing my sword horizontally, in a perfect circle, hitting quite a few of the wolves, burning them. The ones I managed to catch with my sword are dead within moments. The others start to flee almost as quickly. Guess that did it.


    ¡°Maria! You''ll see to him, right?¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Yeah. Wait, what are you--¡±


    ¡°Kobo!¡± I go running, and he runs after. Once he catches up, I hop on, and we ride to the ruins. Since we rode out this far, I might as well help him find what he was looking for. I would hate it for Walter to have gotten himself hurt, only to return empty-handed.


    Now that we''re here, we search inside for a moment. ¡°See anything, Kobo?¡± Damn, it''s dark... wait! ¡°Oh, right, the moon''s light!¡± Why am I thinking of that now? It''s not as if...


    ¡°...hey, is that...?¡± Well, what do you know, even inside this building, the light of the full moon did show me something. Specifically, it''s now shining on this old book through a hole in the ceiling. Carefully, I grab it and go to Kobo once more.


    ¡°Maria, I got something!¡± She seems to have gotten Walter''s speedscale back on their feet. Walter himself, however...


    ¡°Yrza, do you think your speedscale can handle three people at once?¡±


    ¡°It''ll be hard for us all to fit, but Kobo can definitely handle the weight.¡±


    ¡°Alright, help me get him up there.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± I hop off and help Walter onto the saddle. Me and Maria get on after that. ¡°As I understand it, his speedscale will still know to follow us.¡±


    ¡°Right. We should get out of here. There could be something else lurking around, still.¡±


    We''ve managed to get back to town safely. After being helped into Walter''s room, Maria lays him down on his bed.


    ¡°I''ll finish treating him. It should only take a few more seconds.¡± As much as I want to question her about this, I shouldn''t break her concentration. I watch quietly as she heals Walter with the Rune Complexes on her hands. The wounds disappear quickly. It''s not long until it looks like the worst is over. ¡°Alright, he should be fine. We should let him rest alone.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± I say, leaving the book I found on the small desk in Walter''s room. We walk out and return to ours. Once we''re there, Maria sits on her bed, and I sit on mine.


    ¡°I''m sorry I didn''t say anything about it earlier,¡± she says, looking away to avoid my eyes. ¡°It just didn''t seem like it mattered until now. I wasn''t trying to trick you, or anything.¡±


    ¡°That''s okay,¡± I say, waving my hand as if to try and wave her concern away, ¡°everyone''s still alive, so don''t worry. It''s just that...¡± Hm. How shall I phrase this... ¡°I want to know how you got those Complexes, Maria.¡±


    ¡°Hm...¡± she places her hand on her chin, thinking. ¡°I already told you I was brought up with the teachings of the Church of El Rey, right?¡±


    ¡°I think you''ve said it once or twice.¡±


    ¡°Truthfully, throughout most of my childhood, father had me attend a sister''s school that was in Redwolf. I learned a lot about the religion, and they put a ton of hard work into trying to make a worthy sister out of me. The training I went through involved me learning about light Rune Complexes, and learning to use them to heal.¡±


    ¡°That seems like a good thing, to me. Why do you sound so sad about it?¡±


    Her face changes again. Now, she seems more angry than sad. ¡°I was happy about it, at first. Then I started looking at how how father treats some people.¡±


    ¡°Lord Redwolf isn''t a very nice guy, I assume.¡±


    ¡°He can be a very nice man, but also very cold. Talking to the people that work for us, I heard that a lot of them are afraid of him. Last time I spoke to him, he still says he loves me, no matter what, but what if I''m just being manipulated?¡±


    ¡°I don''t know what to say, to be honest. I''d like to believe your father does care, but I can''t really say.¡±


    ¡°I just can''t be sure. Father asked me to go to the alchemist and said it was because he believed in me, and I want him to believe in me, but a part of me didn''t care. A part of me just wants to run away and make it someone else''s problem. I don''t really know what I want anymore...¡±


    Unsure what to say to all that, I find myself looking up, watching the ceiling. ¡°I''m sure you''ll figure out eventually.¡±


    ¡°Yrza?¡± When I look forward again, I realize that Maria is right in front of me.


    ¡°Uh--¡±


    ¡°I think, no matter what, I''ll be happy, having gone on this journey,¡± she says, smiling. ¡°After all, it''s because I came out here that I met you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, nodding.


    ¡°Well, we''ve been up far later than we needed to be,¡± she says, going back over to her bed. ¡°We should sleep.¡±


    ¡°You''re right,¡± I say, lying down. ¡°Good night.¡±


    ¡°You, too.¡±


    Man, it was nice to sleep indoors again.


    Right now, we''re in the lobby, leaving soon.


    ¡°Yrza? Ready to go?¡± Maria asks.


    ¡°Yeah, I''m all packed up,¡± I say, to her.


    ¡°Thank you for saving Walter''s life,¡± says the receptionist. ¡°We hope to see you again!¡±


    ¡°Thanks for having us!¡± With that, we walk around to the back of the building and head toward the stables to retrieve Kobo. Once we make it to the north exit...


    ¡°Hey, you two! Man, that was a crazy night, wasn''t it?


    Walter is waiting, there.


    ¡°You''re still here?¡± I ask, although I am happy I''ll get to speak to him again, deep down.


    ¡°Well, I''ve got to properly thank the people who saved my life, right?¡± He laughs. ¡°So, you have my eternal gratitude, and... if you don''t mind me asking, what''s got you traveling, Yrza? You didn''t say last night, after all.¡±


    ¡°I''m looking to learn more about the Ghost Hurricane. I feel there are mysteries there that have been left unsolved for too long.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, that''s quite an undertaking. I hope you can do it, though. It''s up to people like us to unearth the secrets of the world. Something we find could change lives.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully for the better.¡±


    ¡°So, if you''re looking for more info... I''ve got an interesting rumor to share with you.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± I ask.


    ¡°They say there''s a man who lives in the Old Capital at the center of the continent, who saw the Ghost Hurricane first hand. He''s been closer to it than almost anyone else, and lived to tell about it. I speak of Sir Agil, of the once-famous Imperial Four.¡±


    ¡°Agil!? He''s really still out there, huh? Grandall used to talk about him sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Yup. Good luck with that.¡±


    ¡°So, what about you, Walter? You going the same way?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I''ll be going even further north, through the mountains. Other ancient texts are said to be out there, and I''ve got to go find them.¡± He seems to be preparing to get on his speedscale, but... ¡°...say, Yrza, I took a peak at that book you left on my table.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Did you learn something from it?¡±


    ¡°There''s still plenty to read, but what I''ve seen already suggests this;¡± he holds his right index finger up as he speaks. ¡°While fate exists, it''s naught but a chain. The weak are bound to it, but those with strong wills... they can break these chains and build their own destinies.¡±


    ¡°Heh. Sounds like something you''d like,¡± I say, with a smile.


    ¡°And I''ll tell you about another. You might find it interesting,¡± he continues. ¡°Another old belief says that each person has their own individual destiny, but when certain people meet and destinies intertwine, events can occur that not even the gods could foresee.¡±


    ¡°That''s fascinating,¡± I say, scratching my head, ¡°but I feel like you''re going somewhere with this. What do you really want to say, Walter?¡±


    Looking at my face, he just shakes his head and chuckles. ¡°It''s silly, don''t think about it too much.¡± He starts to climb into the saddle of his speedscale, but... ¡°...seriously, though, Yrza.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Walter?¡±


    ¡°There''s not a single doubt in my mind. I can''t explain it, but I somehow know I was meant to meet you out here.¡±


    ¡°Huh. You''re sure about that?¡±


    ¡°Completely. I''m certain there was special meaning in this encounter, Yrza.¡± Walter smiles again. ¡°This isn''t the last time we''ll meet each other. I''ll see you later.¡±


    ¡°Looking forward to it,¡± I say, returning his smile. ¡°Good luck out there.¡±


    He waves, and rides off on his speedscale, headed directly north.


    ¡°...so, Yrza.¡±


    Maria has been so quiet that I nearly forgot she was there. ¡°What is it?¡±


    She holds up her left hand, saying: ¡°You''re going to the Old Capital,¡± then holds up her right, ¡°I''m going to the Old Capital,¡± and she brings her hands together. ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess.¡± I understand what she''s getting at. I just don''t know if...


    ¡°Yrza,¡± she says, looking right into my eyes, smiling.


    ¡°J... just spit it out, come on,¡± I say, wondering if my face is getting a bit red.


    ¡°You don''t dislike me, do you?¡±


    I sigh. ¡°No, I don''t.¡±


    ¡°And I still need to finish sewing your symbol in, remember?¡±


    God damn it... I have no reason at all to say no to her, do I? I''m just so not used to it, though. Still, this hasn''t been bad, has it? Really, I guess I should stop fighting her, after all.


    ¡°Y-you''re right, okay?¡± I admit, finally. ¡°We''ll go together.¡±


    The moment I say this, Maria wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. ¡°Thank you, Yrza.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, come on, people can see us,¡± I say, prying her off. ¡°Hop on. We''re going to the Old Capital!¡±


    It''s about time. Now, I feel like real progress in my quest is within reach...

 Chapter 7: The Girl From the Dark

    Talking while riding a speedscale going its very fastest isn''t easy, so when Maria has wanted to tell me something, she''s been working on figuring out other ways of getting my attention. On our way to the Old Capital, Maria grabs my left shoulder. Understanding that she wants to speak, now, I signal for Kobo to slow down.


    ¡°See that?¡± She says, pointing to our left. Looking in that direction, past the big rock, I just barely see signs that someone camped there. Used firewood, bones, presumably from the animals they ate... yeah, a traveler definitely stopped here. ¡°What do you think, Yrza?¡± She looks expectantly at me. ¡°Us, too?¡±


    I look up. The sun does seem about ready to set. I''m getting pretty hungry, too. ¡°Okay, we''ll make camp here. Take us over, Kobo.¡± The speedscale, hearing that, does as commanded.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Wait. When I looked over there, I don''t remember seeing a person. Yet, there she is, sitting there, clear as day. How could I have overlooked her? Maybe she was behind the rock? I dunno.


    ¡°Oh. Yrza, do you think it''s still okay to camp here? That girl is...¡±


    ¡°Let''s just go and ask her,¡± I say, hopping out of the saddle and walking over, keeping my hand on the hilt of my sword, just in case she tries to pull something. As I approach, she doesn''t seem to hold any ill intent for us, however. In fact, I just realized I might end up looking like the bad guy, here.


    ¡°Hello, there. You listening?¡± I say, sitting down in front of the burned firewood, opposite the dark-skinned, grey-haired girl. She hasn''t looked at me a single time. Wonder if she''s even noticed that there are other people here? ¡°Me and my friend over there, we''re just travelers. We don''t want to cause you any trouble.¡±


    No response. She doesn''t even look up from the paper she''s reading. She''s probably ignoring me. Must be something pretty important. Looking at her, I now notice, on her short-sleeved arms, the Rune Complexes on her skin. They don''t look familiar to me, resembling a slithering snake, somewhat. Grandall never told me about this Complex before. I wonder...


    ¡°Is it okay if we camp here? We won''t disturb you.¡± To be honest, I kind of feel like I might be bothering her just having come over here. I look at Maria and can see her getting impatient. All I can do is shrug.


    ¡°I don''t mind if you camp here, but I wouldn''t do that if I were you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Ah, so she does talk. Looking back at her, I see that she has looked up from her book and is watching me with purple eyes. Purple eyes that seem to have certain something... supernatural to them.


    ¡°Why should we not stay here? Is there some danger? Beasts, or something?¡±


    ¡°There''s a strong grudge, here. Resentment from a left over lost soul. I don''t blame you if you can''t feel it, though. If you sleep here, you might not wake up, for the anger of the dead may take you as you slumber.¡±


    ¡°Ghost stories, huh? You sure know how to set the mood,¡± I joke, knowing full well that she could be dead serious. I can tell by looking at her face, expression still and cold as stone. ¡°Hm. You''re not messing around, are you?¡±


    ¡°Not even the slightest bit,¡± she says. ¡°I mean it. Your lives could be in danger. I suggest you camp somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and why are you here?¡± I ask, raising an eyebrow. ¡°If it''s dangerous, you shouldn''t be here, either, right?¡±


    ¡°This is my test,¡± she says. ¡°My master told me that if I could get rid of a ghost, and prove I did it, she''ll recognize me as a Dark Rune Master and allow me to travel to the Old Capital.¡±


    ¡°A Dark Rune Master!?¡± My suspicions are confirmed. Suddenly, I feel very wary of her. Grandall never spoke well of those who practiced the dark arts. ¡°You...¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± she says, reaching out. ¡°I won''t hurt you. I don''t use the Dark Rune Complexes lightly. You have my word.¡± That''s the closest I''ve seen her get to being emotional since I sat down with her. Maybe she''s being honest? To be fair to her, I don''t think she''s lied to me a single time, not once. Still... Dark Rune Complexes... I can''t let my guard down.


    ¡°You say I have your word, but words are wind,¡± I say, feeling a bit bad about being so suspicious of her, but not being able to help it. There''s just too much I don''t know.


    She looks at Maria, who has come to stand near us. ¡°Your girl is tired and hungry, isn''t she? I can share the food I''ve cooked and help you watch over her as she sleeps.¡±


    ¡°S... something about you calling her that makes me uncomfortable. She has a name, y''know.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Here I was thinking you two wouldn''t want to give your names to a Dark Rune freak like me.¡±


    Somehow, her words stung me. Only now do I truly realize how much of an ass I''m making of myself. If she really is being completely truthful with me, then I''ve been pretty awful, to her, really. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°I''m Maria,¡± she says, probably guessing that I was about to introduce her but deciding to do it herself. ¡°I won''t lie, the Dark Runic Arts make me uncomfortable, but you yourself don''t seem too bad.¡± She smiles, first at the other girl, then at me. ¡°Yrza, I''m sure she''s okay.¡±


    ¡°Looks like I''ll have to swallow my pride, once again,¡± I say, reaching out for a handshake. ¡°My name is Yrza.¡± She shakes my hand. ¡°Hope I didn''t offend too much.¡±


    ¡°It''s okay,¡± she says, giving my hand back. ¡°Call me Fal.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you. Let''s start over, okay?¡±


    At the moment, she''s digging through her bag. Eventually, she pulls out a cooked bird, almost entirely uneaten. ¡°It''s still pretty warm,¡± she says, handing it to us, ¡°and if you ask my opinion, pretty delicious.¡±


    Maria is the one who takes it. ¡°Thanks.¡± She immediately starts tearing into the bird.


    ¡°Yrza, right?¡± says Fal, looking at me. ¡°That insignia on your shirt looks familiar.¡±


    ¡°You recognize it? It''s Master Grandall''s.¡±


    ¡°That Master Grandall?¡± I nod. ¡°You''re his student, then?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was.¡±


    ¡°Not anymore, huh,¡± Fal says, seeming to be thinking about it. ¡°What happened?¡±


    I sigh. ¡°He died. That was about a week ago, I think.¡±


    ¡°H-he''s really dead!?¡± I nod in response. She averts her eyes, seeming like she''s having a bit of trouble with the information I''ve just given her.


    ¡°Is something wrong, Fal?¡±


    ¡°Um... I''m fine. Forgive me,¡± she says, before letting out a long sigh. ¡°At the very least, she might be happy about this.¡±


    ¡°''She''?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°My master. Lady Eiha.¡±


    ¡°Her, huh. To think that both Rune Masters of the Imperial Four would take on students.¡±


    Fal nods. ¡°Yrza, for what it''s worth, I remember the great things said about Master Grandall, and I respect him highly. Eiha, though, bitterly hates the man, even now.¡±


    ¡°I don''t blame her,¡± I say, completely honest. ¡°Grandall didn''t think very well of her either.¡±


    ¡°So I''ve heard. In particular, I was always told Grandall hated the Dark Runic Arts she practiced. He called it unnatural, and said humans aren''t meant to touch it. Master Eiha had admired the man up until she realized that.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine it must have hurt.¡±


    ¡°That''s what she always tells me. She not only ignored Grandall''s advice, she went directly against it to spite him, delving deeper and deeper into the dark arts, to the point that the citizens of the Empire became afraid of her. The others of the Imperial Four had abandoned her. Emperor Raul, worried for his people, had her banished.¡±


    ¡°That''s a little different from how Master Grandall told me it happened. He said that the rest of the Four tried to talk her out of messing with Dark Runic Arts, but she wouldn''t listen.¡±


    ¡°Well...¡± she shrugs. ¡°I guess only the gods know how it really happened. This next part, however, isn''t widely talked about, but I know it to be fact.¡± Fal runs a hand through her hair. ¡°Eiha''s reputation got so bad that when the Ghost Hurricane hit, people thought it was her doing. They thought she made it happen, to get revenge on all the people that wronged her. They hated her even more. Started witch hunts, just like you see in the stories, wanting to burn her at the stake. She lives alone, now, in a house near the Garrett River, north of here,¡± she says, pointing. ¡°Now, the only other person she has is me.¡±


    ¡°Damn, I don''t know what to say. Sounds like Lady Eiha has had it pretty hard,¡± I say, now looking over at Maria enjoying that bird. Please don''t eat all of it. ¡°Do you even feel like speaking to me? Everything I learned came from the man who helped cast out your master, after all.¡±


    ¡°It doesn''t have to be like that. Lady Eiha is important to me, but the way I see it, her problems are her own. Whatever Grandall did or said to her doesn''t have to affect me. That goes for you, too. I don''t hold any grudge against you for being Grandall''s student, and you don''t need to feel guilty for him.¡±


    ¡°I guess you''re right. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Aren''t you hungry, Yrza?¡± Maria asks, or at least, I think that''s what she said... her mouth is full of food. ¡°Come on, eat some.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Give me it.¡±


    Maria swallows. ¡°Okay.¡± She tears a large chunk of meat from the bird and moves it to my face.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I ask, looking at her hand, then her face.


    ¡°Open up! Say: ''aaah''...¡± she opens her mouth wide. ¡°Like that.¡± Maria thrusts the meat at me again.


    ¡°Don''t be silly! Just give me the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Come on! Let me feed you! I wanna do it, just... hold still! Stop it!¡±


    ¡°Ah ha ha ha ha ha!¡±


    Well, I guess it''s good someone is enjoying this. ¡°What are you laughing at, Fal?¡±


    ¡°You two are funny. Why would I not laugh?¡± She says, still chuckling a bit. ¡°You two are such a strange pair. I have to ask, what brings you two out here? Are you friends, or...¡±


    ¡°We, uh...¡± Maria seems a bit caught off guard. ¡°You''ve heard of the Redwolf family, right? We, along with an aristocrat from Wingsgrave, have been funding the work of an alchemist that lives in the Old Capital. He''s been working on something that he thinks might stop The Decay.¡± Now, she looks at me. ¡°As for him...¡±


    ¡°...I''m looking into the Ghost Hurricane. Sir Agil of the Imperial Four is said to still be in the Old Capital, and people say he knows some interesting things about what happened. I''d like to ask him about it.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Fal says, watching her feet, maybe pondering something. ¡°Yrza, Maria, what do you think--¡± she stops speaking, and suddenly looks around, as if alerted to something.


    ¡°Something wrong, Fal?¡±


    Then I feel it, too. A shiver runs down my spine as if an icicle was laid on my back. This is a new sensation, but I can''t guess at too many other things it could be.


    ¡°Yrza, Maria, come over here.¡±


    Immediately understanding what''s happening, both Maria and I go running to her side. ¡°Give me your hands, both of you.¡± I hesitate. I know that the ghost is nearby, but-- ¡°Just do it. Trust me.¡± With a little nod, I do as she says. Fal then closes her eyes, and the Rune Complexes on her hands and face give off a mysterious purple glow.


    ¡°See what is not seen and hear what is not heard. I command the power of darkness.¡±


    And then...


    ¡°What the!?¡±


    In a blink of my eyes, both Maria and Fal are bathed in a strange light. Watching Maria''s face, I can only assume she''s experiencing the same phenomenon.


    ¡°It''ll only last a short while,¡± Fal says, stepping forward. ¡°Look, there.¡± She points.


    ¡°Oh, shit.¡±


    Another person covered in that same light is there. No... it''s as if he is made of that light. Without a doubt, that has to be the ghost I felt.


    ¡°What have I done wrong?¡± He says, to himself. ¡°Why did things happen the way they did? Did the Emperor lie to us? He said we would be able to live relaxed and happy for the rest of our lives, didn''t he? So why did things turn out the way they did?¡± It''s a bit difficult for me to see it, but he is crying. ¡°Why did my wife and son starve to death!? Why was I killed by wasters who took what little I had left!? Is this what that bastard Raul and his lapdogs wanted!?¡± The sadness in his voice is turning to anger. He looks at us, perhaps realizing that we know he is there. ¡°I want to see them suffer and die for what they''ve done! I will destroy them myself! One of you, grant me your flesh, so I may punish my oppressors!¡± He speaks as if Raul and his Law are still around. Does he not know? ¡°I have waited far too long!¡± Wait, shit, here he comes! What do I do!? ¡°Come here!¡±


    My first thought is to try and run from him, but before I can even turn, Fal is between me and the ghost, a silver knife with an unfamiliar Rune Complex carved into it in her hands. Before he can get any closer, Fal stabs him with the knife.


    ¡°Argh!¡±


    ¡°What the hell?¡± He reacts as if he has been stabbed! I''d never expect a solid weapon to work on something like this. Perhaps this is the power of the dark arts at work.


    ¡°Stop fighting, you who should not be,¡± Fal says, calm. ¡°Emperor Raul is dead, his rule ended in ruins, and the wasters are, for the most part, a thing of the past. There is no one to take revenge on.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? I... I can see in your eyes that you do not lie.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I speak the truth. You saw the Ghost Hurricane, did you not?¡±


    ¡°Ah, so that''s what that was... I believe you.¡± He''s starting to fade away. ¡°Do you think I''ve kept my family waiting?¡±


    ¡°Most likely,¡± Fal says, sounding cold as ever, but I can somehow feels that she means what she says. ¡°You wouldn''t want them to worry any longer, would you?¡±


    ¡°You''re right. Guess I should go.¡± He''s getting very hard to see. Looks like he''s going away for good. ¡°Thanks for seeing me off, you kind kids. Maybe if the future is in your hands, it''ll be alright.¡±


    ¡°Rest in peace.¡±


    With that, he is gone. I can''t see him anymore.


    ¡°Fal, it looks like you did it,¡± Maria says. ¡°You put him to rest.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she says, looking at the knife.


    ¡°How are you gonna prove you did it? You did say you would have to bring back proof.¡±


    ¡°I imagine the Rune Complex''s power has worn off of you two, by now,¡± she says, showing the knife to us. ¡°You might not be able to see it, but I can, and Lady Eiha will, too. This ''phantom blood'' that covers the knife... that will be my proof.¡±


    ¡°I see. That''s good, then. I''m...¡± the next few words don''t come easily for me. They go against so many things I''ve believed up to this point. Still, I feel I should say them. It''s only right. ¡°I''m happy for you, Fal.¡±


    Hearing that, she smiles. It''s such a warm, genuine smile that I don''t feel could possibly come from someone who would use the power she has for any ill intentions. ¡°Thank you, Yrza.¡± She goes back to sitting near the used firewood. ¡°If you wouldn''t mind, would you two like to camp with me, here? We can all get going in the morning.¡±


    I look at Maria to see what she thinks. She just smiles.


    ¡°Yeah, we''ll rest here, for tonight. I''m grateful that you''ll have us here.¡±


    ¡°Well, what can I say? I''m happy to have some company out here.¡±


    I nod. ¡°Well, I''ll make us a new fire.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Asks Fal. ¡°I can go look for some more wood.¡±


    ¡°Nah, it''s okay,¡± I say. ¡°You helped us, so now we''ll help you.¡± I look at Maria. ¡°Right?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Fal smiles again. ¡°You two really are a strange pair.¡±


    And so the rest of the night goes.


    The three of us, sitting around the fire, enjoying eachother''s company... at first, I thought I wouldn''t like having so many other people around, but it seems like I was wrong. In fact, I''ve started to enjoy my time around other people more than I ever have. I wonder, did Grandall want me to eventually go outside, partly so that I could be around other people again? I guess I have one more thing to be thankful to him for.

 Chapter 8: The Cause of The Decay

    ¡°Yrza. Maria.¡±


    As we clean up our camping site and prepare to leave in the morning. Fal strikes up a conversation.


    ¡°Yes, what is it?¡± I ask, placing the bags back onto Kobo.


    ¡°I was going to ask you two a question before, but it slipped my mind when the ghost appeared. Do you remember?¡±


    I think back. ¡°Ah, yes. Come to think of it, you did seem like you were going to say something.¡±


    ¡°What''s up, Fal?¡± Maria asks.


    Fal strokes her chin, thinking. ¡°So, what do you two think of The Decay? Maria, I know you''re going to visit an alchemist who''s working on a solution, but what do you think caused it in the first place?¡±


    Maria shrugs. ¡°Isn''t it natural? With no one to work the fields and all that they were bound to start dying out, right? Plus, I was told the during The Last Days, people would do stupid things like light random fires. Surely something like that would deal its fair share of damage.¡±


    ¡°And there''s also the Ghost Hurricane to consider,¡± I add.


    ¡°Good points,¡± Fal admits, ¡°but I can''t help feeling there''s more to it. Think about it; the way The Decay started at the Old Capital, then spread out from there, its effects becoming lesser and lesser. Don''t you think there''s something funny about that?¡±


    ¡°Well, the capital was a very heavily populated area in the old days,¡± Maria says. ¡°It makes sense that most of the damage was done there, right?¡±


    ¡°That''s not a bad way to see it, but it''s still strange to me that the Old Capital can''t get anything in it to grow, no matter what. I can''t shake the feeling something else is happening.¡±


    I take a moment to think about where Fal seems to be steering the conversation toward. She seems to think that whatever is causing The Decay is not normal. Possibly supernatural. ¡°Are you saying what I think you''re saying?¡±


    ¡°I think you understand what I''m getting at. Lady Eiha has told me that extremely strong grudges and regrets from the dead can have an effect on the world they left behind. When I go to the Old Capital, I want to figure out if the spirits there are having that effect on the land. Or, possibly, a spirit.¡±


    ¡°You think one ghost could cause so much damage?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I have my theories,¡± Fal replies. I, too, can think of a dead man whose feelings of sadness could possibly be so powerful. For now, I''ll keep it to myself, as Maria has another question to ask.


    ¡°If the problem is due to something like a ghost, do you think whatever the alchemist in the Old Capital is making could actually fix the decay?¡±


    ¡°I''m not sure either way. I would bet, maybe, if this alchemist does create a solution, it would only end up being a temporary one. If I''m right, and a spirit is causing it, then I''m sure we''ll have to get rid of it, first.¡±


    ¡°Hm... I hadn''t even considered anything like this until now.¡± Maria starts pacing around, messaging her temples.


    ¡°This is why I''ve got to go to the Old Capital and see for myself. Why I have to master these dark arts. Maybe a Light Rune Master with enough power could do something, as well, but the path of darkness was the only one shown to me.¡± A heavy shadow hangs upon all of us at those words. While Maria and I can only listen to what Fal is saying, somehow, hearing that, I know that there''s something to her story that I don''t understand at all, yet. I both want to know, but at the same time, I''m afraid of hearing what it is. My heart trembles, feeling as if to open that box would grant me the truth and sate my curiosity, but the darkness of that very same truth might consume me.


    ¡°I see.¡± That is all I can say.


    Fal sighs. ¡°Well, that''s enough of that.¡± She whistles. A speedscale comes running toward her and stops nearby. ¡°So, you two are headed to the Old Capital, right? Come with me to Lady Eiha''s place. I can convince her to let you rest there, since the Old Capital is still quite a ways off. Plus, the three of us together are less likely to be targets for bandits or animals. If we ride at full speed, we can make it there by the evening, okay?¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me,¡± Maria says. ¡°Yrza?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, this is fine.¡± I hop on Kobo and help Maria aboard.


    ¡°Alright, follow me,¡± Fal says, getting onto her speedscale. ¡°Try not to fall behind, alright?¡±


    ¡°No need to worry,¡± I say, with a smile.


    ¡°Good. We ride!¡±


    Both of us send our speedscales running as fast as possible.


    At first I was a bit concerned that Kobo might have some trouble keeping up with two people on him but I guess it''s no big deal, to him. These creatures really are stronger than they look.


    ¡°Alright, here it is,¡± Fal says, as we finally slow down. She hops off her speedscale and starts walking toward the little stone house that''s near the river, just as she said. ¡°Let me go in first and talk to her, alright? I feel she might react badly if you two just waltz in like it''s no big deal.¡± Maria and I both nod. With that, Fal opens the door and goes inside. ¡°Eiha, I''ve returned.¡±


    ¡°Welcome back, child,¡± I can hear another voice inside, but that voice doesn''t really sound how I imagined Eiha to sound. Isn''t she kind of old, by now? That''s not what I hear, though. ¡°I take it you''ve done as I asked?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I''ve succeeded in subduing a ghost. The ''phantom blood'' on my rune knife should serve as proof.¡±


    ¡°I''d have preferred it if you captured and brought it back, to be honest,¡± Eiha says, ¡°Would have liked to try a couple more experiments.¡±


    ¡°If that''s not proof enough, I...¡± Fal seems to hesitate before speaking the words that come next. ¡°...I have brought two witnesses.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°Hm, what are you playing at, girl?¡±


    ¡°I swear this isn''t a trick. Please, just invite them in.¡±


    I can hear Eiha sigh. ¡°Alright, come on in.¡±


    I go into the house, now, with Maria not far behind.


    ¡°Wha...¡±


    Indeed, she doesn''t look like what I was expecting. Long hair, dark as night, and pale skin, nearly white like the moon. There isn''t a single wrinkle on her. In fact, she barely looks like she could be in her twenties.


    ¡°You''re Lady Eiha?¡± I ask, unable to trust what my eyes and ears have told me so far.


    ¡°The one and only,¡± she says, a smirk upon her black-painted lips. ¡°If you are stunned by my beauty, do not be ashamed, but in fact feast deeply on this sight that is my perfect body... you might not get to see something like this ever again.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess you could say I''m caught off guard, yes.¡±


    Eiha chuckles. Even if I asked, she probably wouldn''t tell me, but I''m sure she should be much older than this. For now, I''ll assume this is an example of her dark powers at work.


    ¡°Um, master?¡± Fal says, trying to bring us back on topic.


    ¡°Oh, let me have my fun, child,¡± Eiha responds, shooing Fal with her right hand. ¡°Ah... alright, I can see you''re here on business. So, tell me; did you witness Fal dealing with a ghost out there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we were there,¡± Maria says.


    ¡°With the help of her Dark Rune Complexes we could see it, and hear it,¡± I add.


    ¡°Sounds about right,¡± Eiha says, ¡°I can feel faint traces of that Complex being used on you two.¡± She gives Maria a closer look. ¡°I''m a bit surprised you let Fal use it on you, though, to be honest.¡± I wonder, can she sense Maria''s Light Rune Complexes? ¡°You,¡± she says, looking at me, now.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°That emblem... the four-pointed star and that crescent moon with it... Grandall used to wear that.¡± The mood in the room changes. Sadness can be seen in Maria''s eyes, while Fal doesn''t seem quite sure how to feel.


    ¡°That''s right, Lady Eiha. He gave me this.¡±


    ¡°That old bastard actually went and found himself a student, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Is... is he dead?¡±


    ¡°He...¡± I don''t know how Eiha will react. Her face isn''t telling me. ¡°He passed away on August 18<sup>th</sup>. He wasn''t ill or anything, just very old.¡±


    Before I can get a good look at her face, Eiha turns away. ¡°I... I see.¡± An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air for a moment. ¡°Did he ever talk about me?¡±


    ¡°He only spoke of you on rare occasions,¡± I say, ¡°and on even rarer occasions was it anything positive. I hesitate to repeat some of it in front of you.¡±


    ¡°Hah. Sounds about right.¡± Eiha still won''t turn around. ¡°What about the other two? Agil and Garrett?¡±


    ¡°Honestly, he didn''t talk about them very often, either,¡± I say, trying to remember any important words Grandall might have said about the other Imperial Four, but failing. ¡°Really, he seemed like he wanted to leave all of that behind him.¡±


    ¡°Hm, so he didn''t tell you much about them. Well, then I guess you probably don''t know about that, yet.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°...let me guess. You''re out here to investigate the Ghost Hurricane, right?¡±


    ¡°Wait, how did you know that?¡±


    ¡°Really, just a good guess,¡± she says. Probably a lie. ¡°You''re probably headed for the Old Capital, aren''t you? If you''re going there to bother Agil, it won''t be easy getting him to talk to you. I hope you''ll be able to forgive him if he doesn''t. He''s had a hard time. Probably harder than all of us.¡±


    ¡°Somehow, that doesn''t surprise me.¡±


    ¡°I sure hope you''re not just saying that.¡± Eiha finally turns around, now facing Fal. Looking closely, her eyes look a bit misty. ¡°Fal, see that they''re comfortable and we have enough food to serve dinner for our guests, would you? I''d like to be left alone for tonight.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Master,¡± Fal says, bowing. ¡°Alright, you two. Just sit tight for now. I''ll handle everything else.¡±


    The rest of the night goes by pretty quietly, all throughout dinner, and even before we lie down to sleep. No one seems quite sure what to say, if there''s even anything to say at all.


    And so, eventually, morning arrives.


    ¡°So, you two are hoping to get to the Old Capital as soon as possible, yes?¡± Eiha asks, watching us pack up.


    ¡°Well, we''re in no rush, but you know something helpful, I don''t mind you telling us.¡±


    ¡°Mention me to the fisherman who lives to the east,¡± she says. ¡°He might be able to help.¡± She looks at Fal, who is standing nearby. ¡°Fal, go with them.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure, Master?¡± Fal asks.


    ¡°I''ve never been more certain of anything. Your training is complete. I have no reason to keep you here, anymore, Dark Rune Master Fal.¡±


    ¡°Th... thank you, Lady Eiha.¡± Fal bows, still a bit nervous. ¡°I can''t find the words to tell you how grateful I am.¡±


    ¡°Then there''s no need for words,¡± Eiha says, lifting her pupil up. ¡°Just be free. That is enough for me.¡±


    ¡°Just be free, you say?¡± Fal smiles. ¡°I understand. I can do that.¡± She looks at Maria and I. ¡°Lady Eiha, you could tell, couldn''t you?¡±


    ¡°Just another good guess,¡± Eiha says, chuckling. ¡°Surely, a speedscale and a woman like me can''t possibly make the best company for you. Even you must want to be around some kids your age at least a little bit. That''s really why you brought them here in the first place, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°Hehe... I guess so.¡±


    ¡°Then go ahead, child. Just remember to tell me of what you''ve learned, someday.¡±


    ¡°Okay, then. I''m going.¡±


    ¡°Also, no need to worry about preparations. I''ve packed everything you need onto your speedscale for you, already.¡±


    ¡°Really? Thanks so much. I couldn''t ask for a better teacher.¡±


    I can''t help but smile, seeing the two of them. This is the kind of farewell I was always hoping for between Master Grandall and myself. Looking at how Eiha treats Fal, I can see she cares for her just as deeply as Grandall did for me.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± Eiha says, pointing to me. ¡°You, the boy. What is your name?¡±


    ¡°Yrza. No last name.¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± she says, looking a bit grim, ¡°at the end, did he at least seem to be at peace?¡±


    ¡°He did. So much so that he looked, to me, like there was nothing left in the world for him to accomplish, anymore.¡± It still makes me sad, but I can feel myself smiling anyway. ¡°He seemed happy with his life.¡±


    She laughs and smiles, though there is a certain bitter-sweetness to her expression. ¡°Yeah, that sounds like him.¡± Eiha lets out a huge sigh, possibly one of relief.


    ¡°Hm. You didn''t hate Master Grandall, after all, did you, Lady Eiha?¡±


    ¡°I was upset with him, but not so much that I wished to see him dead, and not so much I can''t be happy for his student.¡± Eiha hands me a pouch of more gold coins.


    ¡°Is this really okay?¡±


    ¡°I can''t do anything for Grandall anymore, so I figure I might as well help his pupil. I hope you''ll remember me, Yrza. I may not be able to replace Master Grandall, but should you ever come back for anything, I''ll do whatever I can to help.¡±


    ¡°I will. Thanks!¡±


    Having nothing more to say, Eiha just waves as we hop onto our speedscales.


    ¡°Fal, are you ready?¡± She nods. ¡°Alright, let''s go!¡± Kobo runs at full speed, west. Sir Agil... I hope you''ll be willing to share your secret, soon.

 Chapter 9: Garrett River Church

    ¡°So, you kids want help getting down this river here, huh?¡±


    After nearly a half hour of riding, we arrive at this dock. The fisherman is here, at his favorite spot, along with his boat.


    ¡°Yeah, we''d really appreciate it,¡± I say. ¡°You''d be doing the lady to the east a favor, helping us out.¡±


    ¡°Oh, her?¡± He scratches at his bearded chin. ¡°I do owe her one. One day, when I couldn''t get any to bite for some reason, with a wave of her hand, it was as if the fish were drawn to my hook like magnets. I didn''t even need to bait it for the rest of the day!¡± He laughs. ¡°We ate well, that night. Really needed it, too. My son was going away on his journey the next morning. Wanted to see him off with a good feast.¡±


    ¡°Hm, it sounds like her to have helped out with something like that,¡± Fal says.


    ¡°Okay, then, I can sort of help,¡± the fisherman says, ¡°but it''s not so simple. I''d be honored to take you all the way to the Old Capital, but I just can''t make that trip. What I can do, however, is give you a ride northwest, where the Garrett River Church is. They have a large ship that goes down the whole east side of the river, and I think they''ll even let you ride for free.¡±


    ¡°Okay, that sounds good to me. What do the rest of you think?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, going like this seems like it''d be the best. Let''s do it,¡± says Maria.


    ¡°I''ve got mixed feelings about going to a Church of El Rey, but I won''t complain. This is good,¡± says Fal.


    I nod. ¡°That settles it. Oh, and you''ll be taking the speedscales across as well, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Alright, everyone, get on board. Shouldn''t take us too long to get to the church.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. I''d bet kids like you might have an interest in this. Do you know why they call this the Garrett River?¡± Asks the fisherman, now that we''re out here.


    ¡°I''ve heard the story,¡± Maria says. ¡°It''s said that when Sir Garrett of the Imperial Four slashed his sword during the final battle with Emperor Zalom in the Raul Rebellion, it was so powerful that it went across the entire eastern half of the continent, and then water flowed in where the slash did its damage, literally creating a river.¡± She looks around, as if confirming the size of the river she''s in and thinking about the feat that Garrett achieved. ¡°I think that story might be a bit of an exaggeration, though. How could one man do that?¡±


    ¡°Actually, that really happened, and exactly as the stories describe it.¡±


    ¡°You''ve gotta be kidding me.¡± Maria raises an eyebrow at the fisherman''s statement.


    ¡°See, this I know for a fact that this happened, young ones,¡± says the fisherman, looking at each and every one of us. ¡°I was there when he did it. I saw it with my own eyes.¡±


    ¡°What!?¡± I say.


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± Says Fal.


    The fisherman just laughs. ¡°Yup. That''s how they always react.¡±


    ¡°Tell us!¡± Maria says. ¡°Tell us what you saw!¡±


    ¡°Alright, then... the capital was in complete chaos. You had people running all over the place, trying to get away from the fighting. Let me tell you, one hell of a fight was happening. Zalom and Garrett were wielding powers unlike anything we had seen before. It was almost like watching two gods clash.¡± From the look on the fisherman''s face it seems as if he is still in awe of what he saw that day. I don''t doubt that he really saw this. ¡°Garrett dealt Zalom the final blow. When that happened, the ground split before my eyes. That was the power it took to put an end to that tyrant for good. I''ll never forget it. When that happened, I understood what it meant right away. Our lives had finally been pulled free of Zalom''s grasp. With his godlike strength, Garrett took it from him, and offered us our freedom.¡±


    ¡°Amazing... you really are telling the truth, aren''t you?¡± Maria says.


    ¡°Ask any of the old folks who were there, young lady. Every part of what I said is the truth.¡±


    ¡°I had been told it was true by my elders,¡± I say, ¡°but I''ve always doubted it a little.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Fal says, ¡°even though Master told me again and again that it really happened.¡±


    ¡°Well, what matters more than the display of power, if you ask me, was what it meant. With that swing of his sword, I finally saw just how hard Sir Garrett and the others were fighting to save us, save the rest of the world, even, from Zalom''s oppression. I can''t help but highly respect such a man.¡± The fisherman sighs. ¡°I wonder what Garrett is up to, now. Agil is still in the Old Capital, but his best days are behind him. Lady Eiha''s been kicked out of nearly every town or city, but I honestly believe that she might be that woman who lives in that house to the east. And really, I don''t believe she had anything to do with that Ghost Hurricane, honestly. She just didn''t seem like that kind of person. As for Grandall, even back then, he was very old. It wouldn''t surprise me if he had already passed away.¡±


    ¡°Y... yeah,¡± I say, knowing the truth, but not wanting to interrupt the man.


    ¡°Still, no one has any idea what happened to Garrett. It''s too bad. Most people liked him. Not really surprising; out of all the Imperial Four, he seemed like he believed in the people the most. I wonder, what would he think of all this stuff that''s happened in his absence?¡±


    ¡°I hope we figure out some day,¡± I say.


    ¡°Well, this has been an interesting chat, young folks, but...¡± the fisherman points at the church. ¡°We''re almost there. Look.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± I stare at the church as it comes into view. Indeed, the seven triangles engraved into the front of the building resemble the Light Rune Complexes Maria has on her hands. Slowly but surely, we''re getting closer... ¡°...wait. This location...¡± Ah, dammit. How could I have not realized that it was this place?


    ¡°What''s wrong, Yrza?¡± Maria asks, resting her hand on my shoulder. ¡°You look uneasy.¡±


    ¡°We''ll talk about it once we''re on solid land again,¡± I say, moving her hand away. Not much time for a conversation, anyway; before I can even think of where to start, the ship is about ready to dock.


    ¡°Wow. I don''t quite remember this place being so crowded.¡± Without a doubt, there are a ton of people, here. I had been hearing that the Church of El Rey was making a comeback, but even this one, all the way out here, and this much?


    ¡°Greetings, travelers, and welcome! This is the Garrett River Church.¡±


    Almost right away, one of the brothers is here to greet us.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Hello to you, too,¡± I say. ¡°A ship rides from here, all the way to the Old Capital, doesn''t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but unfortunately, we have only one of those ships, and the trip can take days back and forth. We anticipate that they''ll be back maybe early this evening. Until then, why don''t you come in and say hello to Mother Marine? She does enjoy seeing and speaking to the travelers that come here.¡±


    Hearing that name, I hesitate a bit. I haven''t seen her in so long. It''ll be a little awkward, after all these years. I wonder, how have things been since I left?


    Perhaps seeing this hesitation, Maria replies: ¡°Sure, we''d love to meet her.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± says the young brother. ¡°Follow me. Don''t worry, it''s not going to be a very long walk.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± With that, we walk inside the church, close behind the brother.


    ¡°Hey, Yrza,¡± Maria says, tapping me on the shoulder, ¡°you sure you''re alright?¡±


    ¡°Never better,¡± I say, trying to look calm and probably failing.


    ¡°If you say so...¡± Maria frowns, looking concerned.


    ¡°I gotta say,¡± Fal says, observing the environment, ¡°Seeing this many people at a Church of El Rey is really surprising. I remember seeing some of them during The Last Days and right after the Ghost Hurricane, and this is such a far cry from what I had seen back then.¡±


    ¡°Yes. The Last Days were a pretty dark hour for all of us,¡± the brother says. ¡°Believe it or not, I was one of the wasters back in those days.¡±


    ¡°Are you having a laugh, brother?¡± I ask, looking at the man. ¡°You don''t seem anything like them.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it''s no joke, believe me,¡± he says, a bittersweet smile on his face. ¡°During The Last Days, I thought there was no point to life other than to enjoy one''s self as much as possible. Looking at what there was for me to enjoy myself with, I ended up exposing myself to so much debauchery that it was disgusting. Seriously. Drinking all the wine, smoking all the dreamweed, sleeping with all the women I could get my hands on... I''m not very proud of it, you might guess. ''twas a horrible sight to behold. However, that fateful day came and the Ghost Hurricane with it, and somehow I knew. Without anyone saying it to me, I understood that I had to do something.¡± He points to himself as he says this. ¡°As I wandered around, I would wonder what was motivating me to do good works, because as a waster, I basically didn''t believe in anything but feeling pleasure. Yet here I was, trying to put smiles on other people''s faces, not expecting anything in return. When I came across this church, Mother Marine interpreted my change in attitude as me finally opening my eyes to what God was trying to show me the entire time. Without a doubt, I''m sure this is what I was meant to do.¡± The brother looks around. ¡°I think many of the good folks here are like me. Lacking direction, yet drawn to El Rey all the same. Seeing so many people finally find what they''re looking for brings a smile to my face. Gives me joy greater than any wine, dreamweed, or any lady of the night, I know it for sure.¡±


    Hearing him speak makes me think back to something Walter had said. Something along the lines of leaving the answers all to God being like giving up, to him. I guess that doesn''t really apply to everyone. When I think about it, I guess it makes sense that not everyone can decide to stand on their own. Perhaps some people need that guidance. Need something greater to cling to. For a moment, I lose myself in thought, wondering if this is good or bad. Or if it just is.


    ¡°Yrza? Yrza, watch where you''re--¡±


    ¡°Oof!¡±


    ¡°Ah! Whoa, are you alright?¡±


    I really gotta pay more attention when I''m in populated areas. I help the young man I just ran into off of the ground. Doesn''t look like this guy isn''t carrying any books with him, even though he does look like the kind of guy I''d expect to be well-read. Clean (well, at least until I knocked him to the floor) white robes with El Rey''s emblem on the right side of the chest. Long, wavy brown hair that he clearly takes good care of. Actually, wait. Now that I think about it, have I met this guy, before?


    ¡°I''m fine, thank you,¡± he says, taking my hand. ¡°Yrza?¡± He looks to Maria. ¡°You said his name, right? This is Yrza?¡±


    ¡°Mm-hm,¡± she responds.


    He studies my face carefully. ¡°Oh, God, it is you!¡± He exclaims, suddenly laughing. ¡°Ah, it''s been far too long! So good to see you again!¡±


    I search through my memory. No doubt this guy grew up in the church, like I did. Just gotta take a moment to remember exactly who he is. Let''s see, the hair, orderliness of his robes... the person I''m thinking of also loved to read, and I''ll bet this guy does, too. ¡°Johnathan?¡± I say, snapping my fingers and pointing.


    ¡°It''s me!¡± He spreads his arms wide, walking closer. Normally I''m reluctant to embrace somebody like this, but it only makes sense for me to be so friendly to another one of the Marine Kids. ¡°Talk about an unexpected surprise! How have you been, Yrza?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it''s been a ride, John, I gotta tell you about it--¡±


    ¡°Johnathan?¡± I hear a woman say. She walks into view. A blue-haired woman with blue eyes. The silver circlet on her head, gold trim of her robes, and the scepter in her hands would immediately tell anyone looking that she is an important woman, but to me, she sticks out for a different reason entirely. ¡°Is everything alright? I thought I heard screaming.¡±


    ¡°Mother Marine, you won''t believe it!¡± John says, walking over to her. ¡°It''s Yrza! He came back!¡±


    ¡°Really? It''s not a joke, is it?¡± She asks, looking at me.


    ¡°Uh, yeah, Mother Marine, it''s me,¡± I say to her. ¡°I''m here, but I''m only staying long enough to catch the next ship to the Old Capital.¡±


    Mother Marine holds my face in her hands and examines my eyes. ¡°I''ve missed you dearly, since you left with Grandall,¡± she says, smiling. ¡°How it warms my heart to see you alive and well after all this time.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I know,¡± I say, removing her hands from me. ¡°This is touching and all, but really, we just came to say hello.¡±


    John chuckles. ¡°Yep. That''s our Yrza, alright,¡± he says, looking at Maria and Fal. ¡°Really, he seems cold and uncaring, but trust me, Yrza cares very deeply for the people around him. He''s just too proud to admit as much out loud.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up, John!¡±


    Maria breaks into a loud fit of laughter, hearing this. ¡°You hit the nail right on the head!¡± Why are you agreeing with him!?


    ¡°Y''know, that take on him sounds kind of accurate,¡± Fal says, nodding. ¡°At first, he seemed like kind of a rude guy, but he is surprisingly friendly once you get to know him.¡± I''m standing right here, you know!?


    ¡°Oh, come on... it''s not like I''m doing that on purpose!¡±


    Mother Marine also joins in on the laughing. Yeah, everyone laugh it up... ¡°Honestly, though, I don''t blame Yrza for keeping his guard up. The world can be a dangerous place.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no arguments, here,¡± Maria says, seeming a bit embarrassed.


    ¡°Anyway, my young friends,¡± Mother Marine says, switching the topic, ¡°You said you were traveling to the Old Capital, yes? The ship is supposed to be back before this evening, I believe. Yrza, you and your friends are free to stay here as long as you need to. I''m sure you know where to find me if you need something. I''ll let you and Johnathan catch up.¡± With that, she walks away.


    ¡°So, John,¡± I say to him, ¡°you really decided to stay here?¡±


    ¡°Well, not so much I decided to stay, it''s more so that I didn''t have anywhere else to go.¡± He spreads his arm out, gesturing towards the rest of the church. ¡°Besides, remember? I felt that I really didn''t need to go anywhere. Even after most of the others left, there were still other orphans coming in, and as you may have heard, many lost souls have found their way here after the hurricane. It was obvious to me that the thing I wanted most, some sort of role to fulfill, was right here.¡± John smiles. ¡°I mean, that''s how it was for you, too, wasn''t it? You saw purpose in following Grandall, so you went, right?¡±


    ¡°Hm... I guess you could put it that way.¡±


    ¡°Yrza, come on!¡± I''m not sure what Maria is so excited about, but here we are. ¡°You never told me about this! Why didn''t you say you lived in a place like this? I didn''t know you were brought up in a Church of El Rey!¡±


    ¡°Actually, I''m pretty curious, myself,¡± Fal says, staring inquisitively. ¡°All I knew about you was that you were Grandall''s last student. If you don''t mind, could you tell us a bit more about what your life was like before that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! Tell us how you met your master, at least!¡±


    ¡°Uh, you two are kinda putting me the spot, here.¡±


    ¡°Yrza, I''d say go ahead and tell them,¡± Johnathan says. ¡°I know you want to catch up, but there''s plenty of time for that, I think. Go ahead and let them hear the story of when Grandall visited.¡±


    I let out a loud, exaggerated sigh as they all look at me with excited eyes. They''re really not going to let me be until I tell some sort of story, are they? ¡°Alright, fine. Just that much shouldn''t take too long.¡±


    ¡°Yay!¡±


    ¡°Hope this is good.¡±


    ¡°See what I mean? He''s only stubborn to a point, but then--¡±


    ¡°Quiet, you three,¡± I say, sitting down in a nearby chair. ¡°Okay, gather around, ladies and gentlemen. It''s story time.¡±

 Memories of Yrza

    The night before Grandall showed up was a night like any other, and yet, to this day, I still remember it clearly.


    ¡°How long do you think we''re gonna be stuck here, John?¡±


    Right after chores, just before bed, John and I were watching the stars.


    ¡°Here we go again with you talking about being ''stuck'',¡± he said.


    ¡°What else would you call it?¡±


    ¡°Yrza, look around you,¡± John said, spreading his arms out. ¡°I don''t see any gates. Do you?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±


    ¡°And you get my point.¡± John sat back down. ¡°Until we''re old enough to not need any adults looking after us, this is our life. Might as well get as much out of it as we can.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.¡±


    As I complained, John made himself comfortable on the grass. He laid there and looked above. ¡°Really, I don''t see a problem with it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah? Well I do.¡±


    ¡°I mean it, Yrza. There''s plenty here for us. We have the younger ones to look after, and when we''re older, Mother Marine will surely have more duties for us.¡±


    ¡°That''s nice and all, but I just don''t feel like I''m meant for that.¡±


    Then John was the one that sighed. ¡°God, I hate it when you talk like that.¡±


    ¡°How else do I say it, man? When I''m helping to keep the church clean, helping the little kids with their chores and all that, it''s not bad or anything, but every day I look at what I''ve accomplished and I can feel it: ''this isn''t it''.¡±


    John scoffed at that. ¡°Alright, then, what is ''it''? What are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°I don''t even know, man.¡±


    ¡°If this is about you seeing your parents again, I''m gonna fall asleep out here.¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up.¡± I looked away from the stars and started to look around at my surroundings. The Garrett River, which seemed to stretch on forever, and the endless landscape that followed along. ¡°What''s wrong with me holding on to a bit of hope that they''re still out there?¡±


    ¡°Yrza, look, I''m your friend, so I promise you I don''t mean this in a bad way, but let me remind you; Mother Marine found you with no memories in a pile of garbage. The way I see it, parents that were alive or cared wouldn''t have let it be like that.¡±


    ¡°Why are you talking like they left me there on purpose? I could have gone over there.¡±


    ¡°You''re missing my point, Yrza.¡± John sat up and looked me in the eyes as he said this. ¡°What you''re hoping for is like chasing after ghosts. We''re right here, and happy you''re with us. So why are you so focused on this?¡±


    ¡°I can''t say, man, I just...¡± At the time, I struggled to come up with the words. ¡°...I just ''feel'' like there''s definitely something else out there for me. Don''t you feel anything like that?¡±


    ¡°Johnathan? Yrza? What are you still doing out there?¡± Mother Marine shouted from inside the church. ¡°If you stay out too late, the beasts might come get you. Come inside.¡±


    I stood up, and helped John off the ground. After I did so, he pointed to the church. ¡°There. That''s where I feel like I should be.¡±


    ¡°Damn, what a boring answer.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, Yrza. I''ve been outside. I didn''t see anything I wanted. When Mother Marine brought me here, I was eventually sure that this is where I should be.¡±


    ¡°That''s good for you, but what about me?¡±


    ¡°Yrza, Johnathan,¡± Mother Marine called again, ¡°Hurry up.¡±


    ¡°I hope you figure it out someday.¡± With that, John went walking inside. I followed close behind.


    A lot of nights were like that.


    A lot of nights I would look up and hope I saw a purpose. It wasn''t that I didn''t like the Church of El Rey, or even disagreed with all the teachings. I just felt that something was missing. I could somehow tell my what I was looking for wasn''t in there. Of course, being a 10-year-old kid, I didn''t really know exactly what I wanted, myself, but that didn''t stop me from looking, anyway.


    What happened the next morning didn''t give me all the answers, of course, but it did set me on the path.


    ¡°Hey, everyone, what''s up? What are you all so excited about?¡±


    The next morning, the other kids were making quite a bit of noise and forming a crowd. Having woken up a bit later, I didn''t know what was happening and asked them.


    ¡°Yrza, come here,¡± Mother Marine said, as she waved me over. ¡°I think you might like to meet this person.¡±


    Moving through the crowd, I eventually came to stand at the front. An old man stood there. He looked just like a wizard out of a picture book, Long beard, grey hair, pointy hat and fine robe.


    ¡°Who is this guy, Mother Marine?¡±


    ¡°This man is the great Rune Master Grandall,¡± she said, clearly excited to be in his presence. ¡°You''ve read about him before, haven''t you? He was one of the Imperial Four.¡±


    A few exclamations and cries of amazement came from the other kids behind me. I myself was quite a bit surprised to have someone like this come visit this church.


    ¡°So, uh, Rune Master Grandall,¡± I asked, studying him, ¡°Why did you come here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I''m just resting,¡± he said, as he sat in a nearby chair. ¡°Can''t be wandering the Empire''s Corpse forever without taking some kind of break, especially not when I''m this old.¡±


    For some reason, that made me giggle. Something about seeing this famous warrior, known for his wisdom and power over the runes, acting like a regular old man was amusing to me. Maybe he picked up on this, because he also smiled and laughed.


    ¡°So, who are you, little one? What''s your name?¡±


    ¡°I''m called Yrza.¡±


    ¡°Yrza, hm?¡± Grandall stroked his beard, as he said this. ¡°Not a name I hear very often, that''s for sure.¡±


    ¡°They say that I was already calling myself that when they found me. I can''t remember too well, myself, though.¡± I scratched my head, as if trying to dig through my brain and find the answer I was looking for.


    ¡°Did you forget how you got your own name?¡± Grandall asked, as he raised an eyebrow. ¡°I''ve certainly run into an interesting one.¡±


    ¡°I think my parents gave it to me.¡± I sat on the floor next to the chair Grandall was sitting in. ¡°That''s one of the reasons I just have to find them. Why would they give me this name? What does it mean? Does it mean something good? There are so many questions I want to ask them.¡±


    Hearing what I had to say, Grandall''s expression showed to me that he was thinking hard about it. In retrospect, it''s clear that he was thinking about how to offer his insight to a child that had hope in such a thing in a way that would be easy to accept and understand, more than anything else. ¡°So, Yrza,¡± he said, finally having found the words, ¡°what would you do if you couldn''t find the meaning of it, or if there is no meaning?¡±


    It seemed so obvious. I answered him immediately. ¡°It has to mean something important.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Grandall said, with a smirk, ¡°but why, my young friend? Why are you so convinced that it must mean something special? What makes you think that?¡±


    ¡°Because it''s important to me.¡±


    It was as simple as that. As a child, that was how I thought. It was the only way I could see things. If it mattered to me, it was important. Sometimes I look back and wonder exactly how much this mindset of mine has changed.


    ¡°I see, I see,¡± he said, as he nodded his head. ¡°You''ve dodged my first question, though, my young friend. What if it means nothing?¡±


    ¡°But it has to mean something.¡±


    He chuckled a bit at that. Back then, I wondered if he didn''t understand what I meant, which was confusing to me, because, again, in my eyes, it was such a simple thing. It''s clear, now, that he understood far better than I did. ¡°For your sake, I do hope you figure out what it means.¡±


    ¡°I will, once I see my parents again.¡±


    I saw him hesitate upon hearing me say that. Even as a kid I could see it. It was amazing to me, how he ¡°knew¡± how my search for my parents was going to end. Of course, now, I can tell that the conclusion was obvious to anyone that wasn''t me. ¡°That would be nice, Yrza. It would.¡±


    ¡°Yrza,¡± Mother Marine said, ¡°don''t forget you have your chores to complete today. I''m sure Master Grandall will still be here once you''re done. Go on.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mother.¡± I stood up from where I was sitting and got to work those chores.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    By the time I was done, Master Grandall was about ready to leave.


    ¡°Master Grandall, where are you going?¡± I asked, as I watched him prepare his speedscale to leave.


    ¡°Well, it''s time for me to return to the capital, Young Yrza, or what''s left of it.¡± He tied his bags to the speedscale and adjusted the saddle. ¡°I need to see how the people are doing. Plus, I''d like to check on an old friend.¡±


    ¡°Can I come?¡± Without missing a beat, without even thinking about it, I said that.


    ¡°This is a joke, isn''t it, young friend?¡± He asked, and held back a bit of laughter. ¡°The capital is very far away. It could be days and days before we return here, and it could be a dangerous journey, besides.¡±


    ¡°Even so, I want to go,¡± I said. ¡°Mother Marine once told me that she found me on the streets of the capital. My parents could still be there. Please, I just have to know!¡±


    As Grandall sighed, I could see the sadness on his face. ¡°I understand how you feel, somewhat, Yrza. A lot of boys and girls around your age were left as orphans in The Last Days, and after the Ghost Hurricane. I know what it''s like to want answers, and understand why something is the way it is, but I have this horrible feeling, Yrza, that seeking after this will only disappoint you.¡± He turned away from the speedscale, and knelt down to look me in the eyes. ¡°I must know, my young friend. If you aren''t satisfied with what you find, what are you going to do afterwards?¡±


    ¡°I... I...¡± I had no idea what to say. An uncertainty I had never felt bubbled up in me. I was so determined to believe what I did, that I hadn''t considered any alternatives. Anything beyond the path I saw for myself looked like impenetrable darkness, and, realizing this, I felt terrified. ¡°I have to be right! If I come with you, I''ll see either way, won''t I? Please!¡±


    ¡°Yrza, what are you doing!?¡±


    I heard a voice behind me. I turned around to see John. ¡°Seriously, what are you up to!? Why are you bothering Master Grandall with this!? You know how worried we''d be if you disappeared, right? Come on, come back inside!¡±


    ¡°I have to go!¡± I shouted, for both of them to hear. ¡°If I just stay here, my life won''t have any meaning!¡± And there it was. As I said it, I felt tears in my eyes. ¡°I can''t just stay here! My... my reason isn''t in this place! I''m not good with words like you, John, but I need to be somewhere else! You wouldn''t understand! You''re satisfied here!¡± Even then, I knew my words hurt him.


    ¡°Yrza, don''t go! Are you not even going to let Mother Marine know what you''re doing? Are you really gonna leave me and the other orphans here!?¡±


    Looking at John''s face again, I felt guilty. I understood what I was about to do. John didn''t come out there to chastise me, he actually didn''t want me to go. He didn''t want to lose his friend.


    ¡°I''m sorry, John.¡± I walked over to him and put my hands on his shoulders. ¡°I wouldn''t mean to be gone forever. I just... I just need to figure out what I should be doing. If I left, I''d come back.¡± A part of me didn''t feel like leaving anymore. I was looking at John, and realized he was trying not to cry, himself. What I was doing and saying wasn''t fair.


    ¡°If he comes with me, I won''t let him get hurt.¡± Having watched us for a moment, Grandall finally spoke up. He got on his speedscale and stretched his hand out. ¡°Come, young Yrza. I''ll get you there and back as safely and as quickly as I can.¡±


    Hearing that, I looked at John again. Seeing him look like he could break down crying at any moment made the enthusiasm I was feeling earlier so hard to summon back to myself. Still, I thought about what Grandall was offering me. What if I could find what I was looking for, finally?


    ¡°Yrza. You want to close this chapter of your life and move on to the next, yes? Come with me. I will take you to the capital.¡±


    ¡°I... I''m coming.¡± I walked over and let Grandall pull me into the saddle. ¡°I''ll come back, John.¡±


    ¡°You''d better.¡±


    John waved goodbye as Grandall grabbed the reins of his speedscale and sent it running at full speed.


    It took us about three days to ride to the Old Capital. The entire time, Grandall made sure I had food and water, and made sure we would be safe from beasts and bandits.


    When we got there, I made sure to stay close to Grandall, but still turned my head this way or that way, taking in my surroundings. This was not long after the Ghost Hurricane had hit. Ruined buildings, torn-up roads, people sitting in the streets. The awful smell of urine and feces filled my nose, along with other smells I couldn''t quite identify back then, like the rotting corpses. I was having more than a bit of trouble taking this all in.


    ¡°Don''t be afraid, young one,¡± Grandall reminded me. ¡°So long as you stay nearby, you will be safe.¡± He walked on, and I followed close behind.


    We eventually made our way to a bar. It seemed to be in decent shape, compared to the rest of the city I had seen. ¡°Am I going to be allowed in there?¡± I asked. ¡°I''m only ten.¡±


    ¡°There won''t be a problem, so long as you''re with me,¡± Grandall said, ¡°I don''t think.¡± He seemed a bit uncertain about it, but he walked in, anyway, and brought me with him.


    ¡°Grandall?¡± I saw the bartender. A young woman with long dark hair. ¡°What brings you here?¡±


    Instead of saying anything, he pointed to a man sitting nearby. A rugged guy, with short blond hair and a beard. Grandall started walking over to talk to him.


    ¡°What''ll it be?¡± Asked the bartender.


    ¡°Anything, so long as it doesn''t make me feel like death afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I think I''ll figure something out,¡± she said, seeming a little exasperated.


    Grandall handed her a bunch of coins. ¡°For a little extra, could you keep an eye on the little one?¡±


    ¡°What? I''m not a babysit¡ª¡±


    ¡°Thanks a bunch,¡± Grandall said, and immediately started his conversation with the blonde man.


    The bartender let out a sigh and looked at me. Nervous and unable to figure out what, if anything, I should say, I ended up looking away.


    ¡°You seem on edge, kid, don''t worry,¡± she said. ¡°Grandall isn''t gonna let anything bad happen to you. Protecting a kid, I know he can do that much.¡± I just nodded. ¡°Not much of a talker, are you?¡±


    I tried to speak, but it must not have been loud enough for her to hear.


    ¡°I''m sorry, what was that?¡± She said, leaning closer.


    ¡°Grandall''s helping me look for my parents,¡± I said, clearly, this time.


    ¡°Oh. I hope you find them, kid,¡± she said, a bit halfheartedly. Like I said, looking back, it would have been obvious to anyone what was going to happen. ¡°But just in case you can''t find them, don''t give up hope, alright? There''s plenty more to believe in if not them. Just trust me on that.¡±


    ¡°Not sure I understand, but okay.¡±


    ¡°You''ll get it when you''re older, I''m sure.¡±


    ¡°For the love of all that''s good in the world,¡± Grandall said, standing up. ¡°If there''s anyone you need to tell not to give up, it''s him.¡± He pointed to the man he was talking to. ¡°Come on, Yrza. Let''s go.¡± Without asking questions, I nodded and followed him out.


    ¡°So, Rune Master Grandall, what next?¡±


    ¡°Alright, Yrza. We''ll start looking for your parents. Is there anywhere you want to start looking in particular or should we just comb the whole capital?¡±


    ¡°If it''s alright with you, I just want to look everywhere as closely as I can, and ask as many people if they know who my parents might be.¡±


    He frowned. I saw him try to hide how troublesome he felt it''d be, but I could tell I was being something of a burden.


    ¡°I''m sorry, I don''t really know what else to do.¡±


    ¡°It''s okay, don''t worry about it,¡± he said, as he laughed a little. ¡°I promised I''d help, so I''ll do what I can. Well, let''s get started.¡±


    So we did.


    We must have spent all day and all night asking people if they knew my parents, if recognized my name, anything. However, we had made no progress at all. We did all that running around just to end up right back where we started, with nothing to show for it. Tired, I sat in front of the bar with Grandall, who was looking pretty beat, himself.


    ¡°I swear, we''ve looked pretty much everywhere, Yrza,¡± Grandall said. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. ¡°I know you had your heart set on finding your family, but it looks like they''re just not here. It''s about time for bed. Maybe we can keep looking in the morning, you think? Yrza?¡±


    I didn''t answer him. I couldn''t. There was nothing to say. I finally realized what I needed to see from the start. I wasn''t going to find them. We could keep searching for days, for weeks, it wouldn''t make a difference. I felt like a fool.


    ¡°Yrza?¡±


    ¡°We don''t need to keep looking anymore,¡± I suddenly said. ¡°The time we spent looking already was nothing but a waste.¡± I was trying not to cry, but I couldn''t help it. Emotion was pouring out of me like it never had before. ¡°I''m sorry for wasting your time, Rune Master Grandall, I just... I just wanted answers!¡± I screamed, so loud the whole city might hear me. ¡°I just wanted to know what my life meant! I just hoped that there was something special! Something to point me in the right direction!¡± I fell to the ground, screaming, still. ¡°Why... why am I even here!? What is even the point!? Does it even matter at all!?¡±


    At that point, Grandall picked me up off the ground and looked me in the eye. ¡°Yrza, never let me hear you say these things again!¡±


    ¡°Wha.. what?¡±


    ¡°Don''t be ridiculous! Just because you found no meaning in this doesn''t mean there''s no meaning in anything. Here we are, your parents are nowhere to be found! You fixated yourself on the idea that finding them would give you meaning, and we have almost no chance of finding them. Now that you can''t reach that goal, what are you going to do, now? Just die?¡±


    I was starting to realize that he not only knew what was going to happen, but he knew how I was going to react, as well. I was struck silent by his wisdom.


    ¡°Yrza, listen. Do you see how bad this city looks? It got this way, no, the entire Clawscar Empire is the way it is, now, because people thought nothing mattered, anymore. They lived merely to consume endlessly, hoping to full the void left behind in the absence of meaning. It''s not that nothing meant anything, if you ask me, they just stopped looking. So they lived worthlessly, accomplishing nothing, leaving what you see before you.¡± He spread his arms out. ¡°I''ve seen where that attitude gets us, so I won''t hear it.¡±


    I was completely in awe. In my young mind, I thought to myself that this old man had finally opened my eyes to the truth. Nothing I had learned at the Church had moved me so much. Never before had I wanted so badly to learn more.


    ¡°Rune Master Grandall, let me learn more from you!¡± I shouted, which seemed to catch him by surprise.


    ¡°Surely, you could find another teacher, young Yrza,¡± he said, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°No, it has to be you! The way you understand the world... I want that for myself! I want to be able to see what you see, and feel what you feel!¡±


    ¡°I can''t make you any promises.¡±


    ¡°It doesn''t need to be a promise,¡± I said. ¡°I just need a chance to understand.¡±


    Grandall let out a sigh. He seemed unsure about what he was going to do, but still, he was smiling. ¡°I guess it wouldn''t hurt if I took on one more student.¡± He snapped three times for his speedscale and helped me onto it.


    ¡°Rune Master Grandall, before you start teaching me, can you take me back there, one last time?¡±


    ¡°So you''re really leaving, this time?¡±


    Back at the church, I made my goodbyes and prepared to leave. Mother Marine and John were there to see me off.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Having packed a single bag of what little I wanted to keep, I started to walk through the door.


    ¡°Do you really have to go, though? You just came back,¡± John complained.


    ¡°Remember how I was complaining about not knowing what I should do and not seeing my future in the church? Well, I finally found it. I''ve found the path I need to take.¡±


    ¡°Hear that, Johnathan? He''ll be alright,¡± said Mother Marine.


    ¡°But...!¡±


    ¡°Johnathan,¡± Mother Marine knelt down and wiped the tears from his face. ¡°Yrza seems to have finally found his purpose. You know how badly he''s wanted a place in the world, don''t you? You should be happy for him.¡±


    ¡°But he''s going away! I''m about to lose my best friend! How can I be happy?!¡±


    ¡°Johnathan, believe me. You will not lose him. Yrza is leaving, but your friendship isn''t over.¡± Mother Marine looked at me. ¡°Am I right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mother,¡± I said. ¡°Thank you for everything. Well, I don''t want to keep Master Grandall waiting too long.¡±


    ¡°Of course, take care,¡± she said, waving goodbye. ¡°Don''t forget us.¡±


    I just nodded, and walked away, but then stopped.


    ¡°John. I promise this isn''t our final goodbye. We''ll see each other again, and by then, I''m sure that we''ll both be far on our path.¡± I waved to him. ¡°See you later.¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry, young Johnathan. You''ll see Yrza again, I''m sure, and he''ll always be your friend,¡± said Grandall, on the speedscale. ¡°Young Yrza, shall we?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± He helped me onto the creature''s back, and I waved one last time. With that, we rode off once again, and headed for his house in the southeast corner of the Empire''s Corpse.

 Chapter 10: Living With Purpose

    ¡°So are you sure you still want to go, Yrza?¡± Mother Marine, who has since come in and started listening, asks me this.


    ¡°Really, it was nice seeing you again,¡± I say, ¡°but I have to keep going. My journey isn''t quite over yet.¡±


    ¡°Yrza, what is this journey about?¡± As she asks, I see a sadness in Mother Marine''s eyes. It''s clear that she would rather not see me go again. I feel a bit guilty, to be honest. ¡°You seem like you''ve found your purpose, why do you have to leave again?¡±


    ¡°Sorry. This might take a while.¡± I scratch my head, wondering where to start. ¡°The day before my training was finally complete, Grandall died.¡±


    ¡°Oh...¡±


    ¡°I''m sorry to hear that, Yrza. So, is your quest due to some last request from him, or something?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. I made Grandall a promise. I told him that I would prove that his teachings and him taking me in had meaning. So, to show meaning to this Empire''s Corpse, I will find the meaning behind the greatest mystery, the Ghost Hurricane.¡±


    Mother Marine and John both gasp.


    ¡°You''re serious, aren''t you!?¡± John shouted, unable to believe it.


    ¡°Serious as I''ve ever been about anything. I''m confident there''s something to be found, and that there was a person connected to the Ghost Hurricane.¡±


    ¡°So, Yrza, you''re going to the Old Capital to look for a clue, or something?¡± Mother Marine asks.


    ¡°I have a lead. A man called Walter has told me that Sir Agil of the Imperial Four is still said to be in the Old Capital, and he knows the truth about it all. I have to go talk to him.¡±


    ¡°Your mind''s made up, isn''t it?¡± John asks, disappointed, yet resigned.


    ¡°Yeah, I''m entirely set on this. Look, that guy, Walter, wanted to find meaning, too, you know? It was different from me, though. He wanted a big picture, cosmic truths. You, John,¡± I say, pointing, ¡°you''ve got that for yourself, from the church, right? Me, I just...¡± I actually need to take a moment to think about it. I know how I feel, but putting it into words isn''t so simple. ¡°I want people to see that what happened wasn''t just random chaos. Divine order or no, I want people to see that they shouldn''t give up on living with some purpose... do you see what I mean?¡±


    John seems to be thinking it over in his head.


    ¡°I understand what you''re doing, Yrza,¡± Mother Marine finally says. ¡°After all, you know well what the void of meaninglessness is like.¡± After saying that, she smiles. ¡°What you''re doing is very admirable, in its own way.¡±


    ¡°I mean, I do understand, but...¡± Trying to come up with the words, John sighs. ¡°Yrza, I was kind of hoping this was something we could have done together.¡±


    That should have been obvious to me, honestly. Even when we were kids, I probably could have seen that if I was really looking. ¡°In a way, we''re still a team, the way I see it.¡± John looks at me, seeming slightly confused, but still listening. ¡°In the end, we want to see the Empire''s Corpse move on from the all the damage caused by The Last Days and the Ghost Hurricane. That Walter fellow was after the same thing, in a way. We''re going about it in different ways, but all of us want to bring meaning to peoples'' lives again. You''d see them return to El Rey. Walter seems to want to look to older scriptures and philosophies. Lastly, I...¡± I think for a moment. ¡°I don''t know what to call it, yet. I just know I want people to start picking themselves up and moving forward again. We''re never done learning. Grandall used to tell me that.¡±


    As if finally processing it all, a tear runs down from John''s eye. ¡°Yeah, you''re right,¡± he says, nodding. ¡°When you look at it that way, it''d be wrong for me to try and keep you here. Guess it always has been.¡±


    ¡°As always, Johnathan, remember,¡± Mother Marine says, putting a hand on John''s shoulder. ¡°You''ll never lose Yrza as a friend, no matter how far he goes.¡±


    Wiping away his tears, John nods again. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°I''m glad you do,¡± I say, with a smile. ¡°Hopefully, the Empire''s Corpse won''t be so much of a corpse for much longer.¡±


    ¡°I certainly hope so,¡± John says. ¡°Well, we''ve still got some time before the ship returns, I think, so...¡±


    ¡°Actually, I''ve been wondering, Yrza,¡± Mother Marine says, smirking, ¡°Who are these two girls following you around? I wonder...¡±


    ¡°What!? It''s not like that!¡± What an odd turn this conversation has taken.


    ¡°I just met him,¡± Fal says, pointing at me and slowly backing away.


    ¡°Ah, sorry, don''t get the wrong idea,¡± Maria says, waving her hands in a panic. ¡°We''re also headed to the Old Capital, for our own reasons.¡± She looks at me, now. ¡°Although...¡±


    ¡°Maria, what is it?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, it''s nothing,¡± she says, giggling, and blushing a little.


    ¡°I want to investigate The Decay,¡± Fal says, suddenly. ¡°I feel like the key might be at the Old Capital, where The Decay is the worst.¡±


    ¡°You''re a Dark Rune Master, aren''t you?¡± Asks Mother Marine.


    ¡°Yes. I hope you don''t mind me being here.¡±


    ¡°So long as you''re not here to hurt God''s people.¡±


    Fal holds her hands up. ¡°No ill intentions whatsoever.¡±


    ¡°That''s Fal, and I know she''s not bad. Don''t worry, Mother Marine.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± John says, laughing a bit, ¡°anyone Yrza will trust is someone I think I can trust, as well. Besides, if you really did figure out what might be causing The Decay, it''d be a great help to all of us. I wish you luck.¡±


    Seeming unsure what to say, Fal just nods.


    ¡°And I''m Maria,¡± she says, smiling, still. ¡°Maria Redwolf.¡±


    ¡°The Redwolf girl? Hmm...¡±


    ¡°Something wrong, Mother?¡± John asks.


    ¡°Hm, no, don''t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°My father, Lord Redwolf, actually had me go to a Church of El Rey when I was younger. That''s where I learned to read and write.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Interesting. I hadn''t figured you for a sister,¡± John says.


    ¡°I''m not anymore. Eventually, father had me stop going. Actually, I''m out here because of something he asked of me.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What did he want you to do?¡±


    ¡°I''m going to the Old Capital to meet a Doctor Cook. He''s working on a solution to the decay through his alchemy, and I was to deliver his payment.¡±


    ¡°I honestly don''t know how I feel about sending your own child on such a dangerous journey for something like that,¡± John says, making a sour face.


    ¡°Well, father says he trusts no one else with it,¡± Maria says, seeming like she still feels a bit of doubt. ¡°He''s handling business with Wingsgrave, my brother, Chris, who usually makes this trip, is busy completing a special kind of sword training, and my mother is just a simple housewife.¡± She sighs. ¡°The many people in his employ, he just doesn''t trust to do it. It had to be me.¡±


    ¡°I see. Well, I guess that makes some sense. Still, though,¡± John says, scratching his chin.


    ¡°I guess it''s a good thing I ended up running into Yrza on my way,¡± she says, laughing again. ¡°It would have been a lot more dangerous if I hadn''t. Dangerous, and a lot more lonely, too.¡±


    ¡°I guess I''m happy you ended up coming this way, as well,¡± Mother Marine says. ¡°It wouldn''t have surprised me if Yrza would have taken a different route if not for having bumped into you and being guided in this direction. He would have gone on his big journey without stopping for us.¡±


    ¡°Mother Marine!¡±


    She laughs. ¡°I''m joking, it''s only a joke.¡±


    ¡°Ugh...¡±


    Mother Marine sighs. ¡°Honestly, though, I''m glad you''ve decided to stop here and talk to us. I feel like you''ve made my day complete, having shown up like this.¡±


    ¡°I''m happy to see you again, too.¡±


    ¡°Yrza, Maria, Fal, I hope God shows you favor on your quest. The ship should be arriving sometime soon, and you should be allowed to board some time later. I hope we can meet again.¡± Saying that, Mother Marine walks away.


    ¡°I''ll go down there and see you off, if you don''t mind,¡± John says.


    ¡°We don''t,¡± I say, looking to Maria and Fal for any objection, but there is none.


    ¡°Okay, then.¡± Saying this, John goes walking back to the dock. We follow him.


    ¡°You know, Yrza,¡± John says, ¡°there''s a part of me that''s still sad to see you go.¡±


    ¡°Say, Johnathan,¡± Fal says, ¡°Have you thought about going with Yrza? I don''t think he''d mind if you joined us.¡±


    ¡°It would be nice, but...¡± John smiles again. Resigned, but now, truly at peace with this, ¡°really, my duty is here, and I can''t leave. It''s too much for Mother Marine to handle all by herself, you know? I need to do my part, just like Yrza and the other man he met.¡± He looks at me again, a newfound determination in his eyes. ¡°Surely, more lost souls will drift here, and I need to be here to help guide them. Yrza, you go on chasing your goal, okay? I will do what I must, but only because I have confidence that you''re also accomplishing something.¡±


    ¡°Same to you, John,¡± I say, returning his strong gaze. ¡°If I go out there and complete my mission, it won''t mean anything if only a few find a new path because of it.¡±


    ¡°All aboard!¡± A voice from the ship shouts out. I hear a bell ringing from there, too.


    ¡°Well, Yrza,¡± John says, reaching out, ¡°Guess this is goodbye, again.¡±


    ¡°Not forever, though,¡± I grab his hand, and shake it. ¡°See you again, John.¡±


    Maria, Fal, the speedscales and I get onto the big ship. I look back one last time.


    ¡°Farewell! Take care!¡± John is waving goodbye. I wave back as he starts to walk away.


    ¡°So long for now, my friend.¡±


    Other people are getting on. The ship should be taking off, soon. For now, I guess all I can do is wait.


    ¡°Hm, this ship is really something interesting,¡± I say to the captain once they''ve got the ship going. ¡°How are you guys moving it? I don''t remember seeing an engine room, or anything.¡±


    ¡°Rune Complexes, young fella,¡± says the captain, taking the pipe out of his mouth. ¡°Specifically, wind and water. We''ve hired some folks, two teams worth who can charge those, and switch them out with every trip.¡±


    Come to think of it, a lot of the people getting on and off were people wearing the white uniform and hat of a sailor. So they''re making the ship move, right now? Must take a lot of focus. ¡°I never would have thought to apply Runic Arts like this.¡± More than anything else, I tend to be focused on how I can use it for a fight, or something. How ironic that I''ve only had to do that once, so far.


    ¡°Yeah, it is pretty fascinating, isn''t it?¡± He says, grinning. ¡°Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. Fast as this bad boy is, we won''t be making it to our destination for quite a while.¡±


    ¡°I''ll do that. Thanks again, captain.¡± Saying that, I start walking about the ship.


    ¡°Fal?¡±


    When I see her again, she is staring out at the river, watching the world go by.


    ¡°You just looking around, too?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± I reply. I walk over, standing next to her, and take a look at the view, myself.


    As the silence between us sets in, I start to take in the feeling of the wind blowing past me, the sounds of the ship rushing through the water. I see the sun starting to hide beyond the horizon, for the moon will soon take its place for the night.


    ¡°I was glad to learn more about you.¡±


    Hearing Fal say that, I turn to face her. ¡°It felt good to talk about it, honestly. I''ve always wanted to talk to someone about exactly what it is I''m trying to do out here.¡±


    ¡°Does it really make you feel better?¡± She asks with such sincerity that I have a hard time figuring out how to respond.


    ¡°I think of it this way,¡± I start, looking back out at the moving river and landscape. ¡°I see my goals as... as this huge monument. I''m just a small human, though, and I can only see it from one angle. When other people get to see it, however, I can get a better idea of the ''shape'', and it seems more and more like something I reach with my hands.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    More silence. Especially awkward, this time. I can''t help but feel that we''re both beating around the bush, in our own ways.


    ¡°And the sad things that happened?¡± Fal asks. ¡°Did it help to talk about that, too?¡±


    I''m a little caught off guard. The realization finally hits me; she hasn''t had anyone to really talk about her feelings with. Lady Eiha, maybe, but it wouldn''t surprise me if she had some difficulty opening up to her. I wasn''t entirely comfortable around Eiha, myself.


    ¡°Well...¡± my eyes dart around, as if to search for the words. ¡°For me, the sadness I carry with me are like weights. It''s really heavy for just me, when I''m keeping it to myself, but then other people see it, help me carry it, and it lightens the load. Not just Maria, John, Mother, Walter... you, too, have been helping me carry it, just by listening.¡± Fal doesn''t say anything, but when my eyes find her again, she''s looking away. ¡°It''s no good for one person to handle all their sadness alone. They''ll be crushed.¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡±


    ¡°I''m pretty confident.¡±


    She looks at me for a moment, then looks away again. ¡°I always held it in.¡±


    ¡°Hasn''t that been hard?¡±


    ¡°I... I don''t know if I should say.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, you aren''t any weaker for admitting you''ve struggled if that''s what happened. Even just starting my journey with no one to talk to was hard. If it''s something you don''t want to talk about, I think I can understand that, but...¡±


    ¡°You deserve to know about me.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    Fal looks at me, her eyes cold and serious. ¡°You and Maria have put your trust in me, a Dark Rune Master, and you haven''t asked a single time where I came from before that, all the while letting me know who both of you are. Also, it would be unfair to have you reveal so much about yourself to me, only to get nothing in return. I will tell you my story.¡±


    I find myself looking around again, not feeling very comfortable. ¡°I''ve got mixed feelings about that logic, but if you want to tell me, I''m listening.¡±


    ¡°I know you''ll listen,¡± Fal says. Maybe my eyes are mistaken, but I think she just smiled a bit. ¡°Maybe that''s why I feel you''d be the best to tell.¡±


    ¡°I''m not sure if I should be flattered by this, or not, to be honest with you.¡±


    ¡°Then don''t worry about that too much, and just listen.¡±


    In a way, I guess this is what I wanted. Might as well. ¡°Okay. I''ll hear your story.¡±


    At this point, both of us are looking down at the river. I thought we might see our reflections in the water but it''s now gotten a bit too dark to see them clearly.


    ¡°Okay, then. Where to start?¡±

 Memories of Fal

    I''ve been surrounded by death for as long as I can remember.


    While people speak a lot about the wild parties, the drugs, the degeneracy, the Mr. Pleasures that took advantage of everyone, people rarely speak about all the death. All the cold, heavy, stinking, rotting death.


    But I remember. I remember seeing the other kids my age starving to death or overdosing, wondering if I might be lying next to them one day. I remember seeing adults around me die, fearing that I might not even get to live that long. Everywhere I looked, there was death. So many were dying so meaninglessly. Seeing this, all I could do is wait for the time when the reaper would come and take me from the hellhole I lived in.


    ¡°Mother? Father?¡± I said, to the people who are supposed to be taking care of me. The people who I last saw drowning in wine and burning dreamweed like it was firewood. ¡°Where is our food? Is there any water? My throat is so dry, and I''m so hungry... don''t you feel the same? Are you listening?¡±


    No one responded to me. That night, I closed my eyes, and forced myself to ignore the pains of the hunger still eating at me.


    My scenes were fading in and out. I could no longer tell how much time was passing. Either way, eventually, I heard voices.


    ¡°Aaah, damn, I''m never gonna get used to the smell.¡±


    ¡°We''ve been doing this for days, now, and you''re still complaining?¡±


    Two men. The second one who spoke seemed a bit older. As they walked around the house, I heard the sounds of their boots hitting the floor.


    ¡°Still, pickin'' up dead bodies... why''d it have to be us?¡±


    ¡°Stop whining. You know every able-bodied man in this area has been doing their part. We probably won''t even get to eat if we don''t contribute, so shut up and get to it.¡±


    The younger man sighed and continued walking around the house. I heard him dragging something around. Bodies, I had to assume. Probably mother and father, and some of those other random people who were hanging around in the house. Eventually, the sound of the boots was getting louder... coming closer to me. After a moment, the man tried to pick me up from the ground.


    ¡°Huh? Wait.¡±


    ¡°What is it, man? Let''s hurry it up.¡±


    ¡°I, uh, I can''t quite tell if this one is dead. I''m not entirely sure.¡± The man held me in his arms. I thought to say something, make some kind of movement, give him some kind of sign that I was alive.


    However, try as I might, I couldn''t get my body to listen.


    ¡°Who could possibly be alive in a mess like this? Stop messing around and throw her into the cart.¡±


    The man hesitated a bit, but after some time, he carried me off and lay me with the rest of them. Lay me with the rest of the cold, rotting corpses.


    ¡°This is far enough from town, I guess. We''ll dump ''em here.¡±


    The rocking of the cart, which I assume was carried by speedscales, came to an end. Not long after the complete stop, I felt the forces of gravity take me. I hit the ground, and rolled about for a moment. Of course, the corpses in the cart with me followed soon after.


    ¡°Man, I can''t believe you forgot to bring the stuff for the fire with you. I mean, are you just stupid, or what?¡±


    ¡°Shut up. I already told you the speedscales were carrying enough as it was. Quit your complaining, already. We''ll come back and burn them tomorrow, most likely.¡±


    After that, I heard the sound of the speedscales running away.


    There I was, surrounded by dark silence. Left alone, with the corpses. The cold of death crept its way through my skin. I felt I would nearly gag on the stench of rotting flesh. I couldn''t get myself free from under them.


    ¡°Someone! Anyone!¡±


    In my desperation, all I could think to do was scream. Were there actually any sounds coming out of my mouth? Was I just imagining it? It didn''t matter, to me. The only thing I could do was keep screaming.


    ¡°Please, someone help! I''m not dead!¡±


    No one came. I lay there, awake for what felt like an eternity, for fear that the next time I shut my eyes could be the last. However, at some point, my tired mind could take no more. Was it a sleep for the night like always? My eternal rest? I had no way of knowing.


    Time passed again, I don''t know how much. I woke that day to the sound of shouting.


    ¡°I beg of you! Do not burn this pile just yet! There is still life in here!¡±


    ¡°What are you doing, woman!? Stop that! Get away from there!¡±


    Before I could think about what exactly might be happening, I realized that someone was moving the corpses around me. Someone had picked me up and lay me down nearby.


    ¡°Come on, child, give me some sort of sign. Show me that you''re alive.¡± I felt something on my chest. Her hands, maybe. Her tears started falling onto my face right after. ¡°You''re alive... you''re alive!¡±


    ¡°Have you gone crazy!? Even if that kid is alive, she''ll never survive for long, no matter what you do! Put her back in the pit with the others!¡±


    ¡°I won''t let you kill this girl! I can save her! I can!¡±


    ¡°Who are you, anyway? You''re not that witch people have been talking about, are you!?¡±


    ¡°I hope you''re ready to make a run for it, child,¡± she said, holding me again. ¡°Hang in there, just a bit longer.¡±


    Though she said gotten me somewhere safe, I could feel myself fading fast. The world was dark, and even though I knew she was right there next to me, I was having a hard time hearing her voice or feeling her hands.


    ¡°I don''t have any choice. She will die if I don''t act quickly. To think I''d need to resort to that...¡±


    That was all I heard, and even then, just barely. I was too tired to even try to think about what was happening. I was at the end of my rope, and I finally let go...


    ...or at least, that''s what I thought happened.


    Instead, consciousness was returned to me. I breathed deeply of the fresh air that was granted to me, for I felt I was starved of it for far too long. I opened my eyes and knew I was seeing the world. It was dark, but I could definitely see. I didn''t feel thirsty or hungry, at least not as much as I did before. I tried to move my fingers, and they obeyed my command perfectly. I was starting to feel confident that I was alive. It was a bit hard, but I managed to make myself sit up and try to observe my surroundings. It was at this point that I felt something wet on my chest. I reached and touched it. As dark as it was, I could still see that it was red.


    ¡°Blood?¡± Panicking, I calmed down slightly when I realized it wasn''t mine. I couldn''t find a wound on me, and I wasn''t feeling any serious pain like having been stabbed. I couldn''t stop worrying, though. If it wasn''t my blood, where did it come from?


    I looked to my left. There was a woman sitting there, asleep. Wearing clothing as dark as the night that surrounded us, her skin seemed almost white like the moon. Looking at her face, she seemed to be a young woman. Younger than mother had been, I''m sure. Continuing to observe, I saw...


    ¡°What?¡± I looked at her arms. There were bloody bandages on them. I was very confused, but still, I somehow felt safe, next to her. I knew I wouldn''t hear any answers until she woke, so I decided to try and watch her until she did. I was still very tired, myself, though, and I ended up falling asleep before I got to see her awaken.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The light of the morning sun woke me up. When I opened my eyes, the woman wasn''t sitting where she was before. I sat up from where I was laying and noticed that the blood splattered over me has been cleaned off. Now that I could see clearly, I noticed Rune Complexes where the blood was before. I had never seen these Rune Complexes before, though.


    ¡°Oh, you''re finally awake.¡±


    I looked in the direction of that voice. It was the strange woman from before, no doubt.


    ¡°It seems to have worked, but I figured you might be hungry for some real food, so I started preparing something. Luckily for you, I''ve managed to find us a nice big speedscale egg, and I''ve got no use for a speedscale, so I''m cooking it. I have some water, too, so I''ll be sharing that.¡± She looked at me, a sort of curiosity in her eyes. From what I could tell, ''it'' may have been some sort of Runic Art she used to save my life. She didn''t look like any healer I had ever seen, however. Still, I felt pretty confident she was someone I could trust.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she said, with a smile. ¡°You''re speaking, too. This has gone better than I thought.¡± With that, she walked away, I assume to continue cooking.


    ¡°Is something wrong? You haven''t finished your food.¡± Indeed, my plate still sat there, half-full of food. While I could probably eat more, there was something on my mind that struck me as too important not to talk about.


    ¡°It''s a miracle that I''m alive, isn''t it?¡±


    ¡°I''m sorry, what?¡± She asked, though I''m sure she heard what I said. Instead of just repeating myself, I decided to elaborate.


    ¡°I was very unhealthy, before,¡± I said, looking at my hands and arms, seeing how full they looked compared to the mere skin and bones they were before. ¡°I wasn''t just hungry or thirsty, I was actually fading away. I was dying. I could feel it, as if the reaper was right there, waiting to pick me up.¡± Then, I looked at her. ¡°But the chill of death is gone. Without a doubt, I''m alive, and I''m going to stay alive. What happened?¡±


    She smiled, but it was somewhat bittersweet. Somehow, I felt I asked something I shouldn''t have.


    ¡°Uh, never mind. I''m sorry.¡±


    ¡°It''s okay,¡± she said, walking over, ¡°I can tell you.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I asked, and looked up at her face. She was still smiling that same smile.


    ¡°I''ve never really liked having to keep secrets from people, anyway,¡± She said, with a bit of a chuckle. ¡°Especially not kids.¡± She reached for my hand, and I gave it to her. When she had my hand, she guided me outside of the small, abandoned house and we sat on the ground.


    ¡°It won''t be any good for us to keep talking if we don''t know each other''s names, will it?¡± She said, looking at me. ¡°Your parents at least gave you a name, didn''t they? Please tell me they did that much.¡±


    ¡°Fal... I think.¡±


    ¡°You aren''t sure?¡±


    ¡°That was a word they would say to me a lot. I think that''s my name.¡±


    She made a sour face, then. It seemed that it was just setting in, what kind of life I had before meeting her. ¡°Alright, then, for now, I guess you can go on being Fal.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Since you''ve been so honest with me so far, and since you seem like a kid who won''t mind, I can tell you my name, as well.¡± Though she said it like that, I had the feeling that she wanted someone she could talk to like this for a long time, regardless. ¡°I am Lady Eiha, the former Dark Witch of the Imperial Four.¡± She looked at me after saying that, perhaps checking for a specific reaction. When all I did was look at her, my expression unchanged, that seemed to tell her all she needed to know. ¡°I see, so you don''t know.¡±


    ¡°The name and title sound a little familiar, but I don''t know anything else.¡±


    She sighed, her expression souring again. ¡°This is normal, isn''t it?¡± She clicked her tongue, irritated. ¡°Goddammit. Are you happy, now, Raul?¡±


    ¡°I''m sorry, what?¡± It''s clear to me, now, what she was talking about. Thinking back, I can tell she was talking about how Raul''s Law lead directly into The Last Days and more or less created the uneducated girl sitting next to her, but as a child, all of it flew over my head.


    ¡°Don''t worry, it''s not important, right now,¡± Eiha said, trying to smile. ¡°Maybe I''ll explain it more when you get older.¡±


    ¡°O... okay.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess I should get to the important part, huh?¡± She looked at me again. ¡°The part where I explain how I saved you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, please.¡±


    ¡°Fal, look at your chest.¡± I did as I wad told, and see that strange Rune Complex again. ¡°That''s a Dark Rune Complex. It serves two functions: The first ¡°serpent¡± kept you bound to your body for a few extra moments while I worked to save your life. It should disappear on its own eventually. The second one is kind of like a healing Rune Complex that you would see from the Light Runes, but in a way, it''s far more powerful. I was able to use it to restore life to your dying body.¡±


    ¡°More powerful than healing from Light Runes? I can''t believe it.¡±


    ¡°Understanding of the Dark Runes can grant a person such an unbelievable power,¡± she said, a somewhat sinister smirk on her lips. Eiha certainly had a lot of pride in what she could do with her power. She still does. ¡°Although, that''s not to say that power doesn''t some without a greater price.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I felt that I immediately understood. I reached for her hands and saw that she still had the bandages on her hands, arms, and wrists. ¡°You used blood?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Don''t worry about it, it''s not enough to kill me. My body will make more blood in time. I might be a bit weak for a few days, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    An uncomfortable silence. She seemed to be done talking, and I couldn''t think of anything to say. For what had to be at least a minute, it was just us and the wind.


    ¡°I''m glad you''ll live.¡±


    ¡°Me, too.¡±


    ...and just like that, the silence continued...


    ¡°...what do I do now?¡±


    ¡°I sure hope you''re not expecting me to have the answer.¡±


    ¡°I don''t have anywhere else to go.¡± I looked to my left. To my right. ¡°Even if I knew how to go back to the capital city, I don''t want to. I hate it, there. I don''t know where else I can go to. I don''t know anything about the world outside.¡±


    ¡°Sad...¡±


    ¡°Lady Eiha, please, can I stay here?¡± I was almost afraid to ask. Did I have any right? I was going to be a corpse, and she had already put so much into saving me. She even cooked for me, and explained to me what happened. Who was I to ask for more?


    ¡°Well, if you''re looking for new parents, that''s something I can''t do.¡± There was a look in her eyes like she was staring at something far off. ¡°They always told me I would make a horrible mother.¡± I both agree and disagree on that. Anyway. ¡°However...¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°It would be just cruel to leave you alone as you are. People are going to give you a lot of trouble if you''ve got that thing on your body.¡± Eiha pointed to the Dark Rune Complex again. ¡°As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you use the dark arts, like I do.¡±


    ¡°But I didn''t make this!¡±


    ¡°Doesn''t matter. People will see it and hate you, shun you, try to burn you alive, or maybe even worse.¡± Again, she was looking somewhere far away, this time, with more anger in her eyes.


    ¡°Did you save me with this art, knowing this would happen?¡± I felt worried. Didn''t quite know what was going on, anymore.


    ¡°I wasn''t planning on this. Didn''t think about it until after the fact. My body, clich¨¦ as it sounds, just moved on its own.¡± It''s clear to me, now, that Eiha was tired of being an ¡°evil witch¡± by then. Deep down, for all those years, she still wanted a chance to save someone. I guess that''s something you don''t grow out of, even when the time of the Imperial Four is over.


    ¡°S... so, now what?¡±


    ¡°Alright, here''s the good news. Sort of.¡± She extended her index finger upward. ¡°I won''t abandon you, Fal, but it''s not so simple. I noticed that the dark energies seem to like you quite a bit. That''s probably why my arts worked so well.¡±


    ¡°The dark likes me? I don''t understand.¡±


    ¡°Exactly what I mean. Maybe it''s all the death you''ve been exposed to in such a short life. I can''t quite explain why.¡± She smiled at me again, but this time I couldn''t help but see something in it that made me feel fear. ¡°Either way, this is what will happen. Fal, you can leave, take your chances with whatever could be out there, and I''m sure you can guess how that will go. If you stay with me, though, I want something in return.¡±


    ¡°What''s your price?¡±


    ¡°Stay by my side and learn to control the darkness. After what you''ve been through, I can see it. The Dark Runes are the only ones that will accept you. The paths of Anima and Light are cut off. Did you have anything else to devote your life to?¡±


    Unable to think of a single thing, I shook my head. ¡°There''s nothing. Mother and father are dead. I didn''t like them, anyway. Everyone else is dead, too. I don''t have anything else. No goal, or purpose or anything.¡± I tried to summon some determination to me. This was my only path forward. ¡°All I can do is go with you, I guess.¡±


    ¡°It''s no easy thing you''re agreeing to,¡± she warned, still smiling that devilish smile. ¡°I can''t guarantee you won''t come out of this undamaged. If you survive the dark, you can make it your ally. You can take fear and make it into your strength. You can become that unknown nightmare, lurking in the shadows where others dread to even look. You...¡± she came closer and closer, until her face was right in front of mine... ¡°...can become a freak, like me.¡±


    ¡°Like you...¡± that was the part that stood out to me. That was what I focused on. ¡°I want that.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Really?¡± She raised an eyebrow. Seemed completely caught off guard.


    ¡°Even though I can only be in the dark, I want to use its power to help people, like you''ve done for me. Lady Eiha, you''ve been hated and shunned, right? That''s why you could tell me about it. I... I don''t like that. If I help someone with the Dark Runic Arts, maybe someday, people won''t hate us anymore.¡±


    ¡°You can still be optimistic. I like that.¡± Eiha smiled, but instead of the bitter smirks and impish grins I saw before, this was a warm, genuine smile. ¡°Alright, then. From now on, we''ll be student and master. I hope you can keep up, Fal.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Definitely!¡±


    ¡°This is great, really. Once you get far enough, I can show you to Grandall, and...¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°...ah, don''t worry about that. I haven''t really planned it all out. Come on.¡± Eiha reached out with her hand, and I took it. ¡°We won''t be able to stay in one place for too long, I don''t think. We should get going. Fal, are you ready?¡±


    I looked down. I could tell that my feet and my legs wouldn''t give up on me any time soon.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Alright, let''s go.¡±


    So, with her holding my hand, I walked forward.

 Chapter 11: Sharing the Burden

    As the silence sets in I think to myself once again that I was afraid of hearing what made Fal what she was. Standing here with her, now, I don''t feel that same fear, anymore. Now, I just feel pity. I find myself looking at her. After telling that story, it''s hard to see how she feels looking at her face.


    ¡°Yrza,¡± Fal says, looking at me.


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°I was afraid of telling this story.¡± Now, she looks at her hands. ¡°It''s not that what happens in it scares me. I thought to myself, that if no one knew what I went through, it''d be almost like it never happened.¡±


    ¡°I understand it was hard and painful for you, but why would you wish for it not to happen?¡±


    ¡°Let me try to explain it. In the end, I think what happened to me was good. If I hadn''t almost died that way, if I hadn''t chanced into meeting Eiha, my fate would be different from what it is, now, I''m sure. I think we can both agree that wouldn''t exactly be good.¡±


    ¡°Right. We probably wouldn''t have even met.¡± Even worse, she could have ended up dead right then and there. ¡°I think us meeting was a good thing.¡±


    ¡°I''m glad,¡± Fal says, smiling a little, ¡°but what I meant to say was that I didn''t want anyone to know about it because of what I was like, back then.¡± She sighs. ¡°Yrza?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°You think, when I was a child, that I was pretty weak, right? That I had no power over what was happening?¡±


    Now she gets to the point. Starving, dying, needing to be saved by someone else. I can see why it would bother her to share that. ¡°It couldn''t have been helped, but yeah, you were weak.¡±


    ¡°I''m glad you were honest, at least,¡± she says, with a chuckle. Maybe I was a bit too blunt. ¡°So, Yrza, after hearing that story, do you think I look any weaker, now?¡±


    ¡°Why would being weak before make you any weaker right now?¡± I shrug. ¡°If you ask me, you''re overthinking it.¡±


    ¡°Hmm... let me tell you something else, Yrza.¡± She looks up at the sky. ¡°Understand that I have a great deal of respect for Lady Eiha. Surely, you saw that yourself when I brought you to her. However, I''ve also come to know her very well, and gotten to see many of her weaknesses.¡±


    Hm. I wonder, where is she going with this? ¡°Weaknesses? I don''t follow you.¡±


    ¡°So, Yrza, I think you might laugh at this. For example, Eiha still likes men, even though we shouldn''t really be hanging around other people and attracting attention because of the whole Dark Rune Master thing.¡± Looking down, Fal pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers. ¡°One of the reasons she keeps herself looking so young is because she likes how it feels to have their eyes on her.¡±


    There''s a lot more I could have taken from what she was saying, but... ¡°...is this your way of saying you don''t like men?¡±


    ¡°I think we can worry about that later,¡± Fal says, not even missing a beat.


    ¡°But--¡±


    ¡°Moving on...¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± I say, with a sigh.


    ¡°Seriously, it''s caused us more trouble than you might think. Isn''t it weird? Grandall made sure he looked strong in front of you, didn''t he? Did you get to see his imperfections so clearly?¡±


    ¡°Grandall did always seem great, like there was nothing he couldn''t do, but because of that I got to see how human he was only as he was dying, and it came as a terrible shock.¡±


    Fal averts her eyes once again. Maybe that wasn''t the answer she expected. ¡°I''m sorry.¡±


    ¡°It''s alright, don''t worry.¡± I look out at the river again. ¡°Maybe it''s because she trusted you that she showed you all of that.¡±


    ¡°What I saw, though, brought her down to our level. It made me realize that Lady Eiha, the Dark Witch of the Imperial Four, was just a silly mortal like the rest of us. I saw that, and realized I didn''t want it for myself.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°You wanted to look perfect, with no one seeing through it?¡±


    ¡°That''s one way to put it. Like Eiha said, we would basically be the things people feared, we''d be freaks. I often thought about how someone could show up and hurt us, and because of that, to protect the happiness I found, I wanted to be, and look strong. If I was going to be a freak, I wanted to be a freak nobody was going to mess with.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. I get it, now.¡± I look at Fal. ¡°That said, it''s not as if you look like some kind of monster, or anything, just a bit odd because of the runes, grey hair and all.¡± Grey hair that I assume she has because of Eiha''s power. ¡°At first, Dark Rune Complexes aside, I didn''t think you seemed scary at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.¡±


    ¡°Yrza, what are you trying to say?¡±


    Suddenly, I become aware of what I may have implied by saying that. ¡°I-I''m just saying, at first glance you don''t look like any sort of scary freak or anything.¡±


    ¡°You''re flirting with me,¡± Fal says, laughing. ¡°Do I have to tell Maria on you?¡±


    ¡°What!? What are you--¡±


    ¡°Really, what is it with you two? Are you honestly just traveling together because it''s convenient, or is there something else going on?¡± Fal doesn''t say it out loud, but her smirk tells me exactly what she means.


    ¡°I... I think you might be looking too deep into it,¡± I say, knowing I''m being a bit dishonest, but wanting to steer her away from this, anyway.


    She laughs even louder, now. ¡°I''m just joking. Don''t worry.¡±


    ¡°For the love of all that''s good in the world...¡±


    ¡°Just wanted to tease you a little. Maybe it was a bit mean.¡±


    After that, we go back to looking out at the moving world once more.


    ¡°Well, I have to admit, Yrza, you might be right when you said she showed me all of herself because she trusted me,¡± Fal says.


    ¡°Maybe you took a little of that ''weight'' off of her,¡± I say, smiling.


    ¡°Maybe so.¡± Fal returns my smile. ¡°Showing myself to you made my load a bit lighter.¡±


    ¡°I''m glad.¡±


    Fal stretches. ¡°Well, we probably won''t reach the Old Capital for quite a while. I think I might go to bed right now.¡±


    ¡°I probably should soon, myself.¡±


    ¡°Alright, then.¡± She turns and starts walking away, down into the ship, toward our quarters. ¡°Yrza.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Really, thanks for listening.¡±


    I smile again. ¡°What are friends for?¡±


    Fal smiles back, and retreats inside.


    As for me, I decide to look at the star-filled sky just a bit longer before following her.


    ¡°Yrza. Yrza, wake up.¡±


    The next morning, I open my eyes to Maria hovering over me.


    ¡°Maria? What''s up?¡± I sit up in the bed, a lower bunk, directly under her''s.


    ¡°We''re almost there. The Old Capital is coming into view.¡±


    Without saying anything else, I get out of bed and gather our things. While I was doing this, I notice a few bags are missing.


    ¡°Fal is already up and about. She''s helping to carry some of our stuff.¡± Maria giggles. ¡°Wasn''t that nice of her?¡±


    ¡°Make sure you let her know I''m thankful, okay?¡± After smiling at her and waving her away, I pick up the other bags. Eventually, I make it to the small ¡°stable¡± they have here, as well. ¡°Come on, Kobo, let''s get going.¡± After getting the worker here to open the gate, I snap three times, and Kobo walks to my side.


    ¡°Wow, Yrza, look!¡± I can hear Maria shouting excitedly as I make way to the outside. ¡°It''s coming along nicely, don''t you think?¡± When I''m finally out there, she''s pointing toward the Old Capital. I finally get to see it.


    ¡°Whoa.¡±


    Indeed, even from this distance, I can tell. In the five years since I''ve been here, so much work has gone into rebuilding the city. A far cry from the ruins in my memories.


    ¡°Alright, we''ll be landing soon,¡± the captain, who is also here, says. ¡°I hope you''ve been satisfied with the service, young ones.¡±


    ¡°Very much so,¡± I say, turning to face him. ¡°How much do we owe you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, the church funds all of this, boy,¡± says the captain, putting his hand up as I reach for my pouch. ¡°We don''t charge our travelers.¡±


    ¡°Well, I''ll be giving the church a generous donation when I go back there,¡± I say, moving my hands back to where they were. ¡°I''m really thankful for all of this.¡±


    ¡°Hope to see you again, lad.¡± With that, he goes to help the sailors, conducting the landing.


    ¡°We''re finally here.¡± With the ship having landed, I step onto the dock. Maria, Fal, and the speedscales are close behind.


    ¡°It''s even nicer up close,¡± Maria says, still admiring the city. ¡°Well, let''s get going.¡±


    ¡°It probably wouldn''t hurt if we stuck together a bit longer,¡± Fal says, also looking at the city, but seeming more focused on how big it is, and how easy it could be to get lost in. ¡°Let''s go.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I nod. Finally, we go walking into the Old Capital.

 Chapter 12: Not-so-old Capital (April Fools!)

    ¡°Hey there, travelers. This your first time here? Your faces don''t look familiar.¡±


    A guard is here to greet us. Not quite as friendly as the guy in Janestown, but he seems pretty nice, nonetheless.


    ¡°We''ve been here before, but it''s been years and years. Looks like things have changed a lot since the last time I was here.¡±


    ¡°Things have been changing for sure. A ton of folks from over in Wingsgrave have been helping with the rebuilding effort. We''ve gotten so much done, thanks to them.¡±


    ¡°Wingsgrave, huh? I''ve been hearing about them more and more.¡±


    ¡°I know, right? Really, though, they''ve been a huge help. With that in mind, folks, watch out; many shops here are only taking birdies, now. There is a guy who will trade scars with you, but just remember that to a lot of the people here, they''re pretty much worthless.¡±


    ¡°Okay, we''ll keep that in mind.¡± Good thing the coins Eiha gave me are all birdies. She must have known.


    ¡°Yeah, it''s a bit of a pain for us Imperials, but the currency changing over like this is a small price to pay for everything Wingsgrave and those Redwolf folks have done.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of Redwolf,¡± Maria says, coming out from behind me, ¡°Do you know where the alchemist named Doctor Cook lives? I''m here to deliver a payment from Lord Redwolf, to him.¡±


    ¡°It''s someone else, this time? So used to seeing Chris come through here,¡± the guard says, looking at Maria and possibly seeing the family resemblance.


    ¡°You know him?¡±


    ¡°He''s introduced himself to me, and I''ve seen him come through multiple times. I wonder, are you his sister? He did mention a younger sister, once.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Five years younger.¡±


    ¡°I see, a pleasure to meet you, young lady.¡± He bows, slightly. ¡°Sorry for holding you up. Doctor Cook lives in the small stone house right next to the castle, which is in the middle of town. I''m sure you won''t miss it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for letting me know.¡± Maria turns to face Fal and I. ¡°Well, shall we head there first?¡±


    ¡°I''ve got no objections,¡± says Fal.


    ¡°Sure, let''s go there,¡± I say.


    With that, we go walking further in.


    ¡°Man, this place is crowded. Noisy as hell, too.¡±


    ¡°Not even Janestown or the church was this busy,¡± Maria says.


    ¡°Just moving past all of these people is a bit of a pain,¡± says Fal.


    ¡°I don''t think Kobo likes it, either,¡± I say, looking back at him and seeing a bit of irritation. ¡°Let''s hurry up and make it over to Cook''s house.¡±


    It takes a bit of time and effort, but after some time, we do.


    ¡°Doctor Cook?¡± Maria bangs on his door. ¡°Your payment from the Redwolf family is here.¡± No response. ¡°Were you expecting Chris? I''m his younger sister, Maria. Please let me in.¡±


    ¡°Let yourself in. Door''s unlocked,¡± flatly says a voice from inside the house. He sounds like he''s barely paying attention to the people standing out here. Anyway, Maria turns the knob and it does indeed open.


    When we go inside, the man I must assume is Doctor Cook is standing at his desk, with his back facing us, working on something. What would this guy have done if we were here to rob him? Never mind, we should just get this over with. As we enter the house, the doctor, still not turning around, says:


    "For twelve years, you have been asking: Who is John Galt? This is John Galt speaking. I am the man who loves his life. I am the man who does not sacrifice his love or his values. I am the man who has deprived you of victims and thus has destroyed your world, and if you wish to know why you are perishing-you who dread knowledge-I am the man who will now tell you." The chief engineer was the only one able to move; he ran to a television set and struggled frantically with its dials. But the screen remained empty; the speaker had not chosen to be seen. Only his voice filled the airways of the country-of the world, thought the chief engineer-sounding as if he were speaking here, in this room, not to a group, but to one man; it was not the tone of addressing a meeting, but the tone of addressing a mind.


    "You have heard it said that this is an age of moral crisis. You have said it yourself, half in fear, half in hope that the words had no meaning. You have cried that man''s sins are destroying the world and you have cursed human nature for its unwillingness to practice the virtues you demanded. Since virtue, to you, consists of sacrifice, you have demanded more sacrifices at every successive disaster. In the name of a return to morality, you have sacrificed all those evils which you held as the cause of your plight. You have sacrificed justice to mercy. You have sacrificed independence to unity. You have sacrificed reason to faith. You have sacrificed wealth to need. You have sacrificed self-esteem to self-denial. You have sacrificed happiness to duty.


    "You have destroyed all that which you held to be evil and achieved all that which you held to be good. Why, then, do you shrink in horror from the sight of the world around you? That world is not the product of your sins, it is the product and the image of your virtues. It is your moral ideal brought into reality in its full and final perfection. You have fought for it, you have dreamed of it, and you have wished it, and I-I am the man who has granted you your wish.


    "Your ideal had an implacable enemy, which your code of morality was designed to destroy. I have withdrawn that enemy. I have taken it out of your way and out of your reach. I have removed the source of all those evils you were sacrificing one by one. I have ended your battle. I have stopped your motor. I have deprived your world of man''s mind.


    "Men do not live by the mind, you say? I have withdrawn those who do. The mind is impotent, you say? I have withdrawn those whose mind isn''t. There are values higher than the mind, you say? I have withdrawn those for whom there aren''t.


    "While you were dragging to your sacrificial altars the men of justice, of independence, of reason, of wealth, of self-esteem-I beat you to it, I reached them first. I told them the nature of the game you were playing and the nature of that moral code of yours, which they had been too innocently generous to grasp. I showed them the way to live by another morality-mine. It is mine that they chose to follow.


    "All the men who have vanished, the men you hated, yet dreaded to lose, it is I who have taken them away from you. Do not attempt to find us. We do not choose to be found. Do not cry that it is our duty to serve you. We do not recognize such duty. Do not cry that you need us. We do not consider need a claim. Do not cry that you own us. You don''t. Do not beg us to return. We are on strike, we, the men of the mind.


    "We are on strike against self-immolation. We are on strike against the creed of unearned rewards and unrewarded duties. We are on strike against the dogma that the pursuit of one''s happiness is evil. We are on strike against the doctrine that life is guilt.


    "There is a difference between our strike and all those you''ve practiced for centuries: our strike consists, not of making demands, but of granting them. We are evil, according to your morality. We have chosen not to harm you any longer. We are useless, according to your economics. We have chosen not to exploit you any longer. We are dangerous and to be shackled, according to your politics. We have chosen not to endanger you, nor to wear the shackles any longer. We are only an illusion, according to your philosophy. We have chosen not to blind you any longer and have left you free to face reality-the reality you wanted, the world as you see it now, a world without mind.


    "We have granted you everything you demanded of us, we who had always been the givers, but have only now understood it. We have no demands to present to you, no terms to bargain about, no compromise to reach. You have nothing to offer us. We do not need you.


    "Are you now crying: No, this was not what you wanted? A mindless world of ruins was not your goal? You did not want us to leave you? You moral cannibals, I know that you''ve always known what it was that you wanted. But your game is up, because now we know it, too.


    "Through centuries of scourges and disasters, brought about by your code of morality, you have cried that your code had been broken, that the scourges were punishment for breaking it, that men were too weak and too selfish to spill all the blood it required. You damned man, you damned existence, you damned this earth, but never dared to question your code. Your victims took the blame and struggled on, with your curses as reward for their martyrdom-while you went on crying that your code was noble, but human nature was not good enough to practice it. And no one rose to ask the question: Good?-by what standard?


    "You wanted to know John Galt''s identity. I am the man who has asked that question.


    "Yes, this is an age of moral crisis. Yes, you are bearing punishment for your evil. But it is not man who is now on trial and it is not human nature that will take the blame. It is your moral code that''s through, this time. Your moral code has reached its climax, the blind alley at the end of its course. And if you wish to go on living, what you now need is not to return to morality-you who have never known any-but to discover it.


    "You have heard no concepts of morality but the mystical or the social. You have been taught that morality is a code of behavior imposed on you by whim, the whim of a supernatural power or the whim of society, to serve God''s purpose or your neighbor''s welfare, to please an authority beyond the grave or else next door-but not to serve your life or pleasure. Your pleasure, you have been taught, is to be found in immorality, your interests would best be served by evil, and any moral code must be designed not for you, but against you, not to further your life, but to drain it.


    "For centuries, the battle of morality was fought between those who claimed that your life belongs to God and those who claimed that it belongs to your neighbors-between those who preached that the good is self-sacrifice for the sake of ghosts in heaven and those who preached that the good is self-sacrifice for the sake of incompetents on earth. And no one came to say that your life belongs to you and that the good is to live it.


    "Both sides agreed that morality demands the surrender of your self-interest and of your mind, that the moral and the practical are opposites, that morality is not the province of reason, but the province of faith and force. Both sides agreed that no rational morality is possible, that there is no right or wrong in reason-that in reason there''s no reason to be moral.


    "Whatever else they fought about, it was against man''s mind that all your moralists have stood united. It was man''s mind that all their schemes and systems were intended to despoil and destroy. Now choose to perish or to learn that the anti-mind is the anti-life.


    "Man''s mind is his basic tool of survival. Life is given to him, survival is not. His body is given to him, its sustenance is not. His mind is given to him, its content is not. To remain alive, he must act, and before he can act he must know the nature and purpose of his action. He cannot obtain his food without a knowledge of food and of the way to obtain it. He cannot dig a ditch-or build a cyclotron-without a knowledge of his aim and of the means to achieve it. To remain alive, he must think.


    "But to think is an act of choice. The key to what you so recklessly call ''human nature,'' the open secret you live with, yet dread to name, is the fact that man is a being of volitional consciousness. Reason does not work automatically; thinking is not a mechanical process; the connections of logic are not made by instinct. The function of your stomach, lungs or heart is automatic; the function of your mind is not. In any hour and issue of your life, you are free to think or to evade that effort. But you are not free to escape from your nature, from the fact that reason is your means of survival-so that for you, who are a human being, the question ''to be or not to be'' is the question ''to'' think or not to think.''


    "A being of volitional consciousness has no automatic course of behavior. He needs a code of values to guide his actions. ''Value'' is that which one acts to gain and keep, ''virtue'' is the action by which one gains and keeps it. ''Value'' presupposes an answer to the question: of value to whom and for what? ''Value'' presupposes a standard, a purpose and the necessity of action in the face of an alternative. Where there are no alternatives, no values are possible.


    "There is only one fundamental alternative in the universe: existence or non-existence-and it pertains to a single class of entities: to living organisms. The existence of inanimate matter is unconditional, the existence of life is not; it depends on a specific course of action. Matter is indestructible, it changes its forms, but it cannot cease to exist. It is only a living organism that faces a constant alternative: the issue of life or death. Life is a process of self-sustaining and-self-generated action. If an organism fails in that action, it does; its chemical elements remain, but its life goes out of existence. It is only the concept of ''Life'' that makes the concept of ''Value'' possible. It is only to a living entity that things can be good or evil.


    "A plant must feed itself in order to live; the sunlight, the water, the chemicals it needs are the values its nature has set it to pursue; its life is the standard of value directing its actions. But a plant has no choice of action; there are alternatives in the conditions it encounters, but there is no alternative in its function: it acts automatically to further its life, it cannot act for its own destruction.


    "An animal is equipped for sustaining its life; its senses provide it with an automatic code of action, an automatic knowledge of what is good for it or evil. It has no power to extend its knowledge or to evade it. In conditions where its knowledge proves inadequate, it dies. But so long as it lives, it acts on its knowledge, with automatic safety and no power of choice, it is unable to ignore its own good, unable to decide to choose the evil and act as its own destroyer.


    "Man has no automatic code of survival. His particular distinction from all other living species is the necessity to act in the face of alternatives by means of volitional choice. He has no automatic knowledge of what is good for him or evil, what values his life depends on, what course of action it requires. Are you prattling about an instinct of self-preservation? An instinct of self-preservation is precisely what man does not possess. An ''instinct'' is an unerring and automatic form of knowledge. A desire is not an instinct. A desire to live does not give you the knowledge required for living. And even man''s desire to live is not automatic: your secret evil today is that that is the desire you do not hold. Your fear of death is not a love of life and will not give you the knowledge needed to keep it. Man must obtain his knowledge and choose his actions by a process of thinking, which nature will not force him t9 perform. Man has the power to act as his own destroyer-and that is the way he has acted through most of his history.


    "A living entity that regarded its means of survival as evil, would not survive. A plant that struggled to mangle its roots, a bird that fought to break its wings would not remain for long in the existence they affronted. But the history of man has been a struggle to deny and to destroy his mind.


    "Man has been called a rational being, but rationality is a matter of choice-and the alternative his nature offers him is: rational being or suicidal animal. Man has to be man-by choice; he has to hold his life as a value-by choice: he has to learn to sustain it-by choice; he has to discover the values it requires and practice his virtues-by choice.


    "A code of values accepted by choice is a code of morality.


    "Whoever you are, you who are hearing me now, I am speaking to whatever living remnant is left uncorrupted within you, to the remnant of the human, to your mind, and I say: There is a morality of reason, a morality proper to man, and Man''s Life is its standard of value.


    "All that which is proper to the life of a rational being is the good; all that which destroys it is the evil.


    "Man''s life, as required by his nature, is not the life of a mindless brute, of a looting thug or a mooching mystic, but the life of a thinking being-not life by means of force or fraud, but life by means of achievement-not survival at any price, since there''s only one price that pays for man''s survival: reason.


    "Man''s life is the standard of morality, but your own life is its purpose. If existence on earth is your goal, you must choose your actions and values by the standard of that which is proper to man-for the purpose of preserving, fulfilling and enjoying the irreplaceable value which is your life.


    "Since life requires a specific course of action, any other course will destroy it. A being who does not hold his own life as the motive and goal of his actions, is acting on the motive and standard of death. Such a being is a metaphysical monstrosity, struggling to oppose, negate and contradict the fact of his own existence, running blindly amuck on a trail of destruction, capable of nothing but pain.


    "Happiness is the successful state of life, pain is an agent of death. Happiness is that state of consciousness which proceeds from the achievement of one''s values. A morality that dares to tell you to find happiness in the renunciation of your happiness-to value the failure of your values-is an insolent negation of morality. A doctrine that gives you, as an ideal, the role of a sacrificial animal seeking slaughter on the altars of others, is giving you death as your standard. By the grace of reality and the nature of life, man-every man-is an end in himself, he exists for his own sake, and the achievement of his own happiness is his highest moral purpose.


    "But neither life nor happiness can be achieved by the pursuit of irrational whims. Just as man is free to attempt to survive in any random manner, but will perish unless he lives as his nature requires, so he is free to seek his happiness in any mindless fraud, but the torture of frustration is all he will find, unless he seeks the happiness proper to man. The purpose of morality is to teach you, not to suffer and die, but to enjoy yourself and live.


    "Sweep aside those parasites of subsidized classrooms, who live on the profits of the mind of others and proclaim that man needs no morality, no values, no code of behavior. They, who pose as scientists and claim that man is only an animal, do not grant him inclusion in the law of existence they have granted to the lowest of insects. They recognize that every living species has a way of survival demanded by its nature, they do not claim that a fish can live out of water or that a dog can live without its sense of smell-but man, they claim, the most complex of beings, man can survive in any way whatever, man has no identity, no nature, and there''s no practical reason why he cannot live with his means of survival destroyed, with his mind throttled and placed at the disposal of any orders they might care to issue.


    "Sweep aside those hatred-eaten mystics, who pose as friends of humanity and preach that the highest virtue man can practice is to hold his own life as of no value. Do they tell you that the purpose of morality is to curb man''s instinct of self-preservation? It is for the purpose of self-preservation that man needs a code of morality. The only man who desires to be moral is the man who desires to live.


    "No, you do not have to live; it is your basic act of choice; but if you choose to live,. you must live as a man-by the work and the judgment of your mind.


    "No, you do not have to live as a man; it is an act of moral choice. But you cannot live as anything else-and the alternative is that state of living death which you now see within you and around you, the state of a thing unfit for existence, no longer human and less than animal, a thing that knows nothing but pain and drags itself through its span of years in the agony of unthinking self-destruction.


    "No, you do not have to think; it is an act of moral choice. But someone had to think to keep you alive; if you choose to default, you default on existence and you pass the deficit to some moral man, expecting him to sacrifice his good for the sake of letting you survive by your evil.


    "No, you do not have to be a man; but today those who are, are not there any longer. I have removed your means of survival-your victims.


    "If you wish to know how I have done it and what I told them to make them quit, you are hearing it now. I told them, in essence, the statement I am making tonight. They were men who had lived by my code, but had not known how great a virtue it represented. I made them see it. I brought them, not a re-evaluation, but only an identification of their values.


    "We, the men of the mind, are now on strike against you in the name of a single axiom, which is the root of our moral code, just as the root of yours is the wish to escape it: the axiom that existence exists.


    "Existence exists-and the act of grasping that statement implies two corollary axioms: that something exists which one perceives and that one exists possessing consciousness, consciousness being the faculty of perceiving that which exists.


    "If nothing exists, there can be no consciousness: a consciousness with nothing to be conscious of is a contradiction in terms. A consciousness conscious of nothing but itself is a contradiction in terms: before it could identify itself as consciousness, it had to be conscious of something. If that which you claim to perceive does not exist, what you possess is not consciousness.


    "Whatever the degree of your knowledge, these two-existence and consciousness-are axioms you cannot escape, these two are the irreducible primaries implied in any action you undertake, in any part of your knowledge and in its sum, from the first ray of light you perceive at the start of your life to the widest erudition you might acquire at its end. Whether you know the shape of a pebble or the structure of a solar system, the axioms remain the same: that it exists and that you know it.


    "To exist is to be something, as distinguished from the nothing of non-existence, it is to be an entity of a specific nature made of specific attributes. Centuries ago, the man who was-no matter what his errors-the greatest of your philosophers, has stated the formula defining the concept of existence and the rule of all knowledge: A is A. A thing is itself. You have never grasped the meaning of his statement. I am here to complete it: Existence is Identity, Consciousness is Identification.


    "Whatever you choose to consider, be it an object, an attribute or an action, the law of identity remains the same. A leaf cannot be a stone at the same time, it cannot be all red and all green at the same time, it cannot freeze and burn at the same time. A is A. Or, if you wish it stated in simpler language: You cannot have your cake and eat it, too.


    "Are you seeking to know what is wrong with the world? All the disasters that have wrecked your world, came from your leaders'' attempt to evade the fact that A is A. All the secret evil you dread to face within you and all the pain you have ever endured, came from your own attempt to evade the fact that A is A. The purpose of those who taught you to evade it, was to make you forget that Man is Man.


    "Man cannot survive except by gaining knowledge, and reason is his only means to gain it. Reason is the faculty that perceives, identifies and integrates the material provided by his senses. The task of his senses is to give him the evidence of existence, but the task of identifying it belongs to his reason, his senses tell him only that something is, but what it is must be learned by his mind.


    "All thinking is a process of identification and integration. Man perceives a blob of color; by integrating the evidence of his sight and his touch, he learns to identify it as a solid object; he learns to identify the object as a table; he learns that the table is made of wood; he learns that the wood consists of cells, that the cells consist of molecules, that the molecules consist of atoms. All through this process, the work of his mind consists of answers to a single question: What is it? His means to establish the truth of his answers is logic, and logic rests on the axiom that existence exists. Logic is the art of non-contradictory identification. A contradiction cannot exist. An atom is itself, and so is the universe; neither can contradict its own identity; nor can a part contradict the whole. No concept man forms is valid unless he integrates it without contradiction into the total sum of his knowledge. To arrive at a contradiction is to confess an error in one''s thinking; to maintain a contradiction is to abdicate one''s mind and to evict oneself from the realm of reality.


    "Reality is that which exists; the unreal does not exist; the unreal is merely that negation of existence which is the content of a human consciousness when it attempts to abandon reason. Truth is the recognition of reality; reason, man''s only means of knowledge, is his only standard of truth.


    "The most depraved sentence you can now utter is to ask: Whose reason? The answer is: Yours. No matter how vast your knowledge or how modest, it is your own mind that has to acquire it. It is only with your own knowledge that you can deal. It is only your own knowledge that you can claim to possess or ask others to consider. Your mind is your only judge of truth-and if others dissent from your verdict, reality is the court of final appeal. Nothing but a man''s mind can perform that complex, delicate, crucial process of identification which is thinking. Nothing can direct the process but his own judgment. Nothing can direct his judgment but his moral integrity.


    "You who speak of a ''moral instinct'' as if it were some separate endowment opposed to reason-man''s reason is his moral faculty. A process of reason is a process of constant choice in answer to the question: True or False?-Right or Wrong? Is a seed to be planted in soil in order to grow-right or wrong? Is a man''s wound to be disinfected in order to save his life-right or wrong? Does the nature of atmospheric electricity permit it to be converted into kinetic power-right or wrong? It is the answers to such questions that gave you everything you have-and the answers came from a man''s mind, a mind of intransigent devotion to that which is right.


    "A rational process is a moral process. You may make an error at any step of it, with nothing to protect you but your own severity, or you may try to cheat, to fake the evidence and evade the effort of the quest-but if devotion to truth is the hallmark of morality, then there is no greater, nobler, more heroic form of devotion than the act of a man who assumes the responsibility of thinking.


    "That which you call your soul or spirit is your consciousness, and that which you call ''free will'' is your mind''s freedom to think or not, the only will you have, your only freedom, the choice that controls all the choices you make and determines your life and your character.


    "Thinking is man''s only basic virtue, from which all the others proceed. And his basic vice, the source of all his evils, is that nameless act which all of you practice, but struggle never to admit: the act of blanking out, the willful suspension of one''s consciousness, the refusal to think-not blindness, but the refusal to see; not ignorance, but the refusal to know. It is the act of unfocusing your mind and inducing an inner fog to escape the responsibility of judgment-on the unstated premise that a thing will not exist if only you refuse to identify it, that A will not be A so long as you do not pronounce the verdict ''It is.'' Non-thinking is an act of annihilation, a wish to negate existence, an attempt to wipe out reality. But existence exists; reality is not to be wiped out, it will merely wipe out the wiper. By refusing to say ''It is,'' you are refusing to say ''I am.'' By suspending your judgment, you are negating your person. When a man declares: ''Who am I to know?''-he is declaring: ''Who am I to live?''


    "This, in every hour and every issue, is your basic moral choice: thinking or non-thinking, existence or non-existence, A or non-A, entity or zero.


    "To the extent to which a man is rational, life is the premise directing his actions. To the extent to which he is irrational, the premise directing his actions is death.


    "You who prattle that morality is social and that man would need no morality on a desert island-it is on a desert island that he would need it most. Let him try to claim, when there are no victims to pay for it, that a rock is a house, that sand is clothing, that food will drop into his mouth without cause or effort, that he will collect a harvest tomorrow by devouring his stock seed today-and reality will wipe him out, as he deserves; reality will show him that life is a value to be bought and that thinking is the only coin noble enough to buy it.


    "If I were to speak your kind of language, I would say that man''s only moral commandment is: Thou shalt think. But a ''moral commandment'' is a contradiction in terms. The moral is the chosen, not the forced; the understood, not the obeyed. The moral is the rational, and reason accepts no commandments.


    "My morality, the morality of reason, is contained in a single axiom: existence exists-and in a single choice: to live. The rest proceeds from these. To live, man must hold three things as the supreme and ruling values of his life: Reason-Purpose-Self-esteem. Reason, as his only tool of knowledge-Purpose, as his choice of the happiness which that tool must proceed to achieve-Self-esteem, as his inviolate certainty that his mind is competent to think and his person is worthy of happiness, which means: is worthy of living. These three values imply and require all of man''s virtues, and all his virtues pertain to the relation of existence and consciousness: rationality, independence, integrity, honesty, justice, productiveness, pride.


    "Rationality is the recognition of the fact that existence exists, that nothing can alter the truth and nothing can take precedence over that act of perceiving it, which is thinking-that the mind is one''s only judge of values and one''s only guide of action-that reason is an absolute that permits no compromise-that a concession to the irrational invalidates one''s consciousness and turns it from the task of perceiving to the task of faking reality-that the alleged short-cut to knowledge, which is faith, is only a short-circuit destroying the mind-that the acceptance of a mystical invention is a wish for the annihilation of existence and, properly, annihilates one''s consciousness.


    "Independence is the recognition of the fact that yours is the responsibility of judgment and nothing can help you escape it-that no substitute can do your thinking, as no pinch-hitter can live your life-that the vilest form of self-abasement and self-destruction is the subordination of your mind to the mind of another, the acceptance of an authority over your brain, the acceptance of his assertions as facts, his say-so as truth, his edicts as middle-man between your consciousness and your existence.


    "Integrity is the recognition of the fact that you cannot fake your consciousness, just as honesty is the recognition of the fact that you cannot fake existence-that man is an indivisible entity, an integrated unit of two attributes: of matter and consciousness, and that he may permit no breach between body and mind, between action and thought, between his life and his convictions-that, like a judge impervious to public opinion, he may not sacrifice his convictions to the wishes of others, be it the whole of mankind shouting pleas or threats against him-that courage and confidence are practical necessities, that courage is the practical form of being true to existence, of being true to one''s own consciousness.


    "Honesty is the recognition of the fact that the unreal is unreal and can have no value, that neither love nor fame nor cash is a value if obtained by fraud-that an attempt to gain a value by deceiving the mind of others is an act of raising your victims to a position higher than reality, where you become a pawn of their blindness, a slave of their non-thinking and their evasions, while their intelligence, their rationality, their perceptiveness become the enemies you have to dread and flee-that you do not care to live as a dependent, least of all a dependent on the stupidity of others, or as a fool whose source of values is the fools he succeeds in fooling-that honesty is not a social duty, not a sacrifice for the sake of others, but the most profoundly selfish virtue man can practice: his refusal to sacrifice the reality of his own existence to the deluded consciousness of others.


    "Justice is the recognition of the fact that you cannot fake the character of men as you cannot fake the character of nature, that you must judge all men as conscientiously as you judge inanimate objects, with the same respect for truth, with the same incorruptible vision, by as pure and as rational a process of identification-that every man must be judged for what he is and treated accordingly, that just as you do not pay a higher price for a rusty chunk of scrap than for a piece of shining metal, so you do not value a totter above a hero-that your moral appraisal is the coin paying men for their virtues or vices, and this payment demands of you as scrupulous an honor as you bring to financial transactions-that to withhold your contempt from men''s vices is an act of moral counterfeiting, and to withhold your admiration from their virtues is an act of moral embezzlement-that to place any other concern higher than justice is to devaluate your moral currency and defraud the good in favor of the evil, since only the good can lose by a default of justice and only the evil can profit-and that the bottom of the pit at the end of that road, the act of moral bankruptcy, is to punish men for their virtues and reward them for their vices, that that is the collapse to full depravity, the Black Mass of the worship of death, the dedication of your consciousness to the destruction of existence.


    "Productiveness is your acceptance of morality, your recognition of the fact that you choose to live-that productive work is the process by which man''s consciousness controls his existence, a constant process of acquiring knowledge and shaping matter to fit one''s purpose, of translating an idea into physical form, of remaking the earth in the image of one''s values-that all work is creative work if done by a thinking mind, and no work is creative if done by a blank who repeats in uncritical stupor a routine he has learned from others- that your work is yours to choose, and the choice is as wide as your mind, that nothing more is possible to you and nothing less is human-that to cheat your way into a job bigger than your mind can handle is to become a fear-corroded ape on borrowed motions and borrowed time, and to settle down into a job that requires less than your mind''s full capacity is to cut your motor and sentence yourself to another kind of motion: decay-that your work is the process of achieving your values, and to lose your ambition for values is to lose your ambition to live-that your body is a machine, but your mind is its driver, and you must drive as far as your mind will take you, with achievement as the goal of your road-that the man who has no purpose is a machine that coasts downhill at the mercy of any boulder to crash in the first chance ditch, that the man who stifles his mind is a stalled machine slowly going to rust, that the man who lets a leader prescribe his course is a wreck being towed to the scrap heap, and the man who makes another man his goal is a hitchhiker no driver should ever pick up-that your work is the purpose of your life, and you must speed past any killer who assumes the right to stop you, that any value you might find outside your work, any other loyalty or love, can be only travelers you choose to share your journey and must be travelers going on their own power in the same direction.


    "Pride is the recognition of the fact that you are your own highest value and, like all of man''s values, it has to be earned-that of any achievements open to you, the one that makes all others possible is the creation of your own character-that your character, your actions, your desires, your emotions are the products of the premises held by your mind-that as man must produce the physical values he needs to sustain his life, so he must acquire the values of character that make his life worth sustaining-that as man is a being of self-made wealth, so he is a being of self-made soul-that to live requires a sense of self-value, but man, who has no automatic values, has no automatic sense of self-esteem and must earn it by shaping his soul in the image of his moral ideal, in the image of Man, the rational being he is born able to create, but must create by choice-that the first precondition of self-esteem is that radiant selfishness of soul which desires the best in all things, in values of matter and spirit, a soul that seeks above all else to achieve its own moral perfection, valuing nothing higher than itself-and that the proof of an achieved self-esteem is your soul''s shudder of contempt and rebellion against the role of a sacrificial animal, against the vile impertinence of any creed that proposes to immolate the irreplaceable value which is your consciousness and the incomparable glory which is your existence to the blind evasions and the stagnant decay of others.


    "Are you beginning to see who is John Galt? I am the man who has earned the thing you did not fight for, the thing you have renounced, betrayed, corrupted, yet were unable fully to destroy and are now hiding as your guilty secret, spending your life in apologies to every professional cannibal, lest it be discovered that somewhere within you, you still long to say what I am now saying to the hearing of the whole of mankind: I am proud of my own value and of the fact that I wish to live.


    "This wish-which you share, yet submerge as an evil-is the only remnant of the good within you, but it is a wish one must learn to deserve. His own happiness is man''s only moral purpose, but only his own virtue can achieve it. Virtue is not an end in itself. Virtue is not its own reward or sacrificial fodder for the reward of evil. Life is the reward of virtue-and happiness is the goal and the reward of life.


    "Just as your body has two fundamental sensations, pleasure and pain, as signs of its welfare or injury, as a barometer of its basic alternative, life or death, so your consciousness has two fundamental emotions, joy and suffering, in answer to the same alternative. Your emotions are estimates of that which furthers your life or threatens it, lightning calculators giving you a sum of your profit or loss. You have no choice about your capacity to feel that something is good for you or evil, but what you will consider good or evil, what will give you joy or pain, what you will love or hate, desire or fear, depends on your standard of value. Emotions are inherent in your nature, but their content is dictated by your mind. Your emotional capacity is an empty motor, and your values are the fuel with which your mind fills it. If you choose a mix of contradictions, it will clog your motor, corrode your transmission and wreck you on your first attempt to move with a machine which you, the driver, have corrupted.


    "If you hold the irrational as your standard of value and the impossible as your concept of the good, if you long for rewards you have not earned, for a fortune, or a love you don''t deserve, for a loophole in the law of causality, for an A that becomes non-A at your whim, if you desire the opposite of existence-you will reach it. Do not cry, when you reach it, that life is frustration and that happiness is impossible to man; check your fuel: it brought you where you wanted to go.


    "Happiness is not to be achieved at the command of emotional whims. Happiness is not the satisfaction of whatever irrational wishes you might blindly attempt to indulge. Happiness is a state of non-contradictory joy-a joy without penalty or guilt, a joy that does not clash with any of your values and does not work for your own destruction, not the joy of escaping from your mind, but of using your mind''s fullest power, not the joy of faking reality, but of achieving values that are real, not the joy of a drunkard, but of a producer. Happiness is possible only to a rational man, the man who desires nothing but rational goals, seeks nothing but rational values and finds his joy in nothing but rational actions.


    "Just as I support my life, neither by robbery nor alms, but by my own effort, so I do not seek to derive my happiness from the injury or the favor of others, but earn it by my own achievement. Just as I do not consider the pleasure of others as the goal of my life, so I do not consider my pleasure as the goal of the lives of others. Just as there are no contradictions in my values and no conflicts among my desires-so there are no victims and no conflicts of interest among rational men, men who do not desire the unearned and do not view one another with a cannibal''s lust, men who neither make sacrifice nor accept them.


    "The symbol of all relationships among such men, the moral symbol of respect for human beings, is the trader. We, who live by values, not by loot, are traders, both in matter and in spirit. A trader is a man who earns what he gets and does not give or take the undeserved. A trader does not ask to be paid for his failures, nor does he ask to be loved for his flaws. A trader does not squander his body as fodder or his soul as alms. Just as he does not give his work except in trade for material values, so he does not give the values of his spirit-his love, his friendship, his esteem-except in payment and in trade for human virtues, in payment for his own selfish pleasure, which he receives from men he can respect. The mystic parasites who have, throughout the ages, reviled the traders and held them in contempt, while honoring the beggars and the looters, have known the secret motive of their sneers: a trader is the entity they dread-a man of justice.


    "Do you ask what moral obligation I owe to my fellow men? None-except the obligation I owe to myself, to material objects and to all of existence: rationality. I deal with men as my nature and their demands: by means of reason. I seek or desire nothing from them except such relations as they care to enter of their own voluntary choice. It is only with their mind that I can deal and only for my own self-interest, when they see that my interest coincides with theirs. When they don''t, I enter no relationship; I let dissenters go their way and I do not swerve from mine. I win by means of nothing but logic and I surrender to nothing but logic. I do not surrender my reason or deal with men who surrender theirs. I have nothing to gain from fools or cowards; I have no benefits to seek from human vices: from stupidity, dishonesty or fear. The only value men can offer me is the work of their mind. When I disagree with a rational man, I let reality be our final arbiter; if I am right, he will learn; if I am wrong, I will; one of us will win, but both will profit.


    "Whatever may be open to disagreement, there is one act of evil that may not, the act that no man may commit against others and no man may sanction or forgive. So long as men desire to live together, no man may initiate-do you hear me? no man may start-the use of physical force against others.


    "To interpose the threat of physical destruction between a man and his perception of reality, is to negate and paralyze his means of survival; to force-him to act against his own judgment, is like forcing him to act against his own sight. Whoever, to whatever purpose or extent, initiates the use of force, is a killer acting on the premise of death in a manner wider than murder: the premise of destroying man''s capacity to live.


    "Do not open your mouth to tell me that your mind has convinced you of your right to force my mind. Force and mind are opposites; morality ends where a gun begins. When you declare that men are irrational animals and propose to treat them as such, you define thereby your own character and can no longer claim the sanction of reason-as no advocate of contradictions can claim it. There can be no ''right'' to destroy the source of rights, the only means of judging right and wrong: the mind.


    "To force a man to drop his own mind and to accept your will as a substitute, with a gun in place of a syllogism, with terror in place of proof, and death as the final argument-is to attempt to exist in defiance of reality. Reality demands of man that he act for his own rational interest; your gun demands of him that he act against it. Reality threatens man with death if he does not act on his rational judgment: you threaten him with death if he does. You place him into a world where the price of his life is the surrender of all the virtues required by life-and death by a process of gradual destruction is all that you and your system will achieve, when death is made to be the ruling power, the winning argument in a society of men.


    "Be it a highwayman who confronts a traveler with the ultimatum: ''Your money or your life,'' or a politician who confronts a country with the ultimatum: ''Your children''s education or your life,'' the meaning of that ultimatum is: ''Your mind or your life''-and neither is possible to man without the other.


    "If there are degrees of evil, it is hard to say who is the more contemptible: the brute who assumes the right to force the mind of others or the moral degenerate who grants to others the right to force his mind. That is the moral absolute one does not leave open to debate. I do not grant the terms of reason to men who propose to deprive me of reason. I do not enter discussions with neighbors who think they can forbid me to think. I do not place my moral sanction upon a murderer''s wish to kill me. When a man attempts to deal with me by force, I answer him-by force.


    "It is only as retaliation that force may be used and only against the man who starts its use. No, I do not share his evil or sink to his concept of morality: I merely grant him his choice, destruction, the only destruction he had the right to choose: his own. He uses force to seize a value; I use it only to destroy destruction. A holdup man seeks to gain wealth by killing me; I do not grow richer by killing a holdup man. I seek no values by means of evil, nor do I surrender my values to evil.


    "In the name of all the producers who had kept you alive and received your death ultimatums in payment, I now answer you with a single ultimatum of our own: Our work or your guns. You can choose either; you can''t have both. We do not initiate the use of force against others or submit to force at their hands. If you desire ever again to live in an industrial society, it Will be on our moral terms. Our terms and our motive power are the antithesis of yours. You have been using fear as your weapon and have been bringing death to man as his punishment for rejecting your morality. We offer him life as his reward for accepting ours.


    "You who are worshippers of the zero-you have never discovered that achieving life is not the equivalent of avoiding death. Joy is not ''the absence of pain,'' intelligence is not ''the absence of stupidity,'' light is not ''the absence of darkness,'' an entity is not ''the absence of a nonentity.'' Building is not done by abstaining from demolition; centuries of sitting and waiting in such abstinence will not raise one single girder for you to abstain from demolishing-and now you can no longer say to me, the builder: ''Produce, and feed us in exchange for our not destroying your production.'' I am answering in the name of all your victims: Perish with and in your own void. Existence is not a negation of negatives. Evil, not value, is an absence and a negation, evil is impotent and has no power but that which we let it extort from us. Perish, because we have learned that a zero cannot hold a mortgage over life.


    "You seek escape from pain. We seek the achievement of happiness. You exist for the sake of avoiding punishment. We exist for the sake of earning rewards. Threats will not make us function; fear is not our incentive. It is not death that we wish to avoid, but life that we wish to live.


    "You, who have lost the concept of the difference, you who claim that fear and joy are incentives of equal power-and secretly add that fear is the more ''practical''-you do not wish to live, and only fear of death still holds you to the existence you have damned. You dart in panic through the trap of your days, looking for the exit you have closed, running from a pursuer you dare not name to a terror you dare not acknowledge, and the greater your terror the greater your dread of the only act that could save you: thinking. The purpose of your struggle is not to know, not to grasp or name or hear the thing. I shall now state to your hearing: that yours is the Morality of Death.


    "Death is the standard of your values, death is your chosen goal, and you have to keep running, since there is no escape from the pursuer who is out to destroy you or from the knowledge that that pursuer is yourself. Stop running, for once-there is no place to run-stand naked, as you dread to stand, but as I see you, and take a look at what you dared to call a moral code.


    "Damnation is the start of your morality, destruction is its purpose, means and end. Your code begins by damning man as evil, then demands that he practice a good which it defines as impossible for him to practice. It demands, as his first proof of virtue, that he accept his own depravity without proof. It demands that he start, not with a standard of value, but with a standard of evil, which is himself, by means of which he is then to define the good: the good is that which he is not.


    "It does not matter who then becomes the profiteer on his renounced glory and tormented soul, a mystic God with some incomprehensible design or any passer-by whose rotting sores are held as some inexplicable claim upon him-it does not matter, the good is not for him to understand, his duty is to crawl through years of penance, atoning for the guilt of his existence to any stray collector of unintelligible debts, his only concept of a value is a zero: the good is that which is non-man.


    "The name of this monstrous absurdity is Original Sin.


    "A sin without volition is a slap at morality and an insolent contradiction in terms: that which is outside the possibility of choice is outside the province of morality. If man is evil by birth, he has no will, no power to change it; if he has no will, he can be neither good nor evil; a robot is amoral. To hold, as man''s sin, a fact not open to his choice is a mockery of morality. To hold man''s nature as his sin is a mockery of nature. To punish him for a crime he committed before he was born is a mockery of justice. To hold him guilty in a matter where no innocence exists is a mockery of reason. To destroy morality, nature, justice and reason by means of a single concept is a feat of evil hardly to be matched. Yet that is the root of your code.


    "Do not hide behind the cowardly evasion that man is born with free will, but with a ''tendency'' to evil. A free will saddled with a tendency is like a game with loaded dice. It forces man to struggle through the effort of playing, to bear responsibility and pay for the game, but the decision is weighted in favor of a tendency that he had no power to escape. If the tendency is of his choice, he cannot possess it at birth; if it is not of his choice, his will is not free.


    "What is the nature of the guilt that your teachers call his Original Sin? What are the evils man acquired when he fell from a state they consider perfection? Their myth declares that he ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge-he acquired a mind and became a rational being. It was the knowledge of good and evil-he became a mortal being. He was sentenced to earn his bread by his labor-he became a productive being. He was sentenced to experience desire-he acquired the capacity of sexual enjoyment. The evils for which they damn him are reason, morality, creativeness; joy-all the cardinal values of his existence. It is not his vices that their myth of man''s fall is designed to explain and condemn, it is not his errors that they hold as his guilt, but the essence of his nature as man. Whatever he was-that robot in the Garden of Eden, who existed without mind, without values, without labor, without love-he was not man.


    "Man''s fall, according to your teachers, was that he gained the virtues required to live. These virtues, by their standard, are his Sin. His evil, they charge, is that he''s man. His guilt, they charge, is that he lives.


    "They call it a morality of mercy and a doctrine of love for man. No, they say, they do not preach that man is evil, the evil is only that alien object: his body. No, they say, they do not wish to kill him, they only wish to make him lose his body. They seek to help him, they say, against his pain-and they point at the torture rack to which they''ve tied him, the rack with two wheels that pull him in opposite directions, the rack of the doctrine that splits his soul and body.


    "They have cut man in two, setting one half against the other. They have taught him that his body and his consciousness are two enemies engaged in deadly conflict, two antagonists of opposite natures, contradictory claims, incompatible needs, that to benefit one is to injure the other, that his soul belongs to a supernatural realm, but his body is an evil prison holding it in bondage to this earth-and that the good is to defeat his body, to undermine it by years of patient struggle, digging his way to that gorgeous jail-break which leads into the freedom of the grave.


    "They have taught man that he is a hopeless misfit made of two elements, both symbols of death. A body without a soul is a corpse, a soul without a body is a ghost-yet such is their image of man''s nature: the battleground of a struggle between a corpse and a ghost, a corpse endowed with some evil volition of its own and a ghost endowed with the knowledge that everything known to man is nonexistent, that only the unknowable exists.


    "Do you observe what human faculty that'' doctrine was designed to ignore? It was man''s mind that had to be negated in order to make him fall apart. Once he surrendered reason, he was left at the mercy of two monsters whom he could not fathom or control: of a body moved by unaccountable instincts and of a soul moved by mystic revelations-he was left as the passively ravaged victim of a battle between a robot and a dictaphone.


    "And as he now crawls through the wreckage, groping blindly for a way to live, your teachers offer him the help of a morality that proclaims that he''ll find no solution and must seek no fulfillment on earth. Real existence, they tell him, is that which he cannot perceive, true consciousness is the faculty of perceiving the non-existent-and if he is unable to understand it, that is the proof that his existence is evil and his consciousness impotent.


    "As products of the split between man''s soul and body, there are two kinds of teachers of the Morality of Death: the mystics of spirit and the mystics of muscle, whom you call the spiritualists and the materialists, those who believe in consciousness without existence and those who believe in existence without consciousness. Both demand the surrender of your mind, one to their revelation, the other to their reflexes. No matter how loudly they posture in the roles of irreconcilable antagonists, their moral codes are alike, and so are their aims: in matter-the enslavement of man''s body, in spirit-the destruction of his mind.


    "The good, say the mystics of spirit, is God, a being whose only definition is that he is beyond man''s power to conceive-a definition that invalidates man''s consciousness and nullifies his concepts of existence. The good, say the mystics of muscle, is Society-a thing which they define as an organism that possesses no physical form, a super-being embodied in no one in particular and everyone in general except yourself. Man''s mind, say the mystics of spirit, must be subordinated to the will of God. Man''s mind, say the mystics of muscle, must be subordinated to the will of Society. Man''s standard of value say the mystics of spirit, is the pleasure 0f God, whose standards are beyond man''s power of comprehension and must be accepted on faith. Man''s standard of value, say the mystics of muscle, is the pleasure of Society, whose standards are beyond man''s right of judgment and must be obeyed as a primary absolute. The purpose of man''s life, say both, is to become an abject zombie who serves a purpose he does not know, for reasons he is not to question. His reward, say the mystics of spirit, will be given to him beyond the grave. His reward, say the mystics of muscle, will be given on earth-to his great-grandchildren.


    "Selfishness-say both-is man''s evil. Man''s good-say both-is to give up his personal desires, to deny himself, renounce himself, surrender; man''s good is to negate the life he lives. Sacrifice-cry both-is the essence of morality, the highest virtue within man''s reach.


    "Whoever is now within reach of my voice, whoever is man the victim, not man the killer, I am speaking at the deathbed of your mind, at the brink of that darkness in which you''re drowning, and if there still remains within you the power to struggle to hold on to those fading sparks which had been yourself-use it now. The word that has destroyed you is ''sacrifice.'' Use the last of your strength to understand its meaning. You''re still alive. You have a chance.


    "''Sacrifice'' does not mean the rejection of the worthless, but of the precious. ''Sacrifice'' does not mean the rejection of the evil for the sake of the good, but of the good for the sake of the evil. ''Sacrifice'' is the surrender of that which you value in favor of that which you don''t.


    "If you exchange a penny for a dollar, it is not a sacrifice; if you exchange a dollar for a penny, it is. If you achieve the career you wanted, after years of struggle, it is not a sacrifice; if you then renounce it for the sake of a rival, it is. If you own a bottle of milk and gave it to your starving child, it is not a sacrifice; if you give it to your neighbor''s child and let your own die, it is.


    "If you give money to help a friend, it is not a sacrifice; if you give it to a worthless stranger, it is. If you give your friend a sum you can afford, it is not a sacrifice; if you give him money at the cost of your own discomfort, it is only a partial virtue, according to this sort of moral standard; if you give him money at the cost of disaster to yourself that is the virtue of sacrifice in full.


    "If you renounce all personal desire and dedicate your life to those you love, you do not achieve full virtue: you still retain a value of your own, which is your love. If you devote your life to random strangers, it is an act of greater virtue. If you devote your life to serving men you hate-that is the greatest of the virtues you can practice.


    "A sacrifice is the surrender of a value. Full sacrifice is full surrender of all values. If you wish to achieve full virtue, you must seek no gratitude in return for your sacrifice, no praise, no love, no admiration, no self-esteem, not even the pride of being virtuous; the faintest trace of any gain dilutes your virtue. If you pursue a course of action that does not taint your life by any joy, that brings you no value in matter, no value in spirit, no gain, no profit, no reward-if you achieve this state of total zero, you have achieved the ideal of moral perfection.


    "You are told that moral perfection is impossible to man-and, by this standard, it is. You cannot achieve it so long as you live, but the value of your life and of your person is gauged by how closely you succeed in approaching that ideal zero which is death.


    "If you start, however, as a passionless blank, as a vegetable seeking to be eaten, with no values to reject and no wishes to renounce, you will not win the crown of sacrifice. It is not a sacrifice to renounce the unwanted. It is not a sacrifice. It is not a sacrifice to give your life for others, if death is your personal desire. To achieve the virtue of sacrifice, you must want to live, you must love it, you must burn with passion for this earth and for all the splendor it can give you-you must feel the twist of every knife as it slashes your desires away from your reach and drains your love out of your body, It is not mere death that the morality of sacrifice holds out to you as an ideal, but death by slow torture.


    "Do not remind me that it pertains only to this life on earth. I am concerned with no other. Neither are you.


    "If you wish to save the last of your dignity, do not call your best actions a ''sacrifice'': that term brands you as immoral. If a mother buys food for her hungry child rather than a hat for herself, it is not a sacrifice: she values the child higher than the hat; but it is a sacrifice to the kind of mother whose higher value is the hat, who would prefer her child to starve and feeds him only from a sense of duty. If a man dies fighting for his own freedom, it is not a sacrifice: he is not willing to live as a slave; but it is a sacrifice to the kind of man who''s willing. If a man refuses to sell his convictions, it is not a sacrifice, unless he is the sort of man who has no convictions.


    "Sacrifice could be proper only for those who have nothing to sacrifice-no values, no standards, no judgment-those whose desires are irrational whims, blindly conceived and lightly surrendered. For a man of moral stature, whose desires are born of rational values, sacrifice is the surrender of the right to the wrong, of the good to the evil.


    "The creed of sacrifice is a morality for the immoral-a morality that declares its own bankruptcy by confessing that it can''t impart to men any personal stake in virtues or value, and that their souls are sewers of depravity, which they must be taught to sacrifice. By his own confession, it is impotent to teach men to be good and can only subject them to constant punishment.


    "Are you thinking, in some foggy stupor, that it''s only material values that your morality requires you to sacrifice? And what do you think are material values? Matter has no value except as a means for the satisfaction of human desires. Matter is only a tool of human values. To what service are you asked to give the material tools your virtue has produced? To the service of that which you regard as evil: to a principle you do not share, to a person you do not respect, to the achievement of a purpose opposed to your own-else your gift is not a sacrifice.


    "Your morality tells you to renounce the material world and to divorce your values from matter. A man whose values are given no expression in material form, whose existence is unrelated to his ideals, whose actions contradict his convictions, is a cheap little hypocrite-yet that is the man who obeys your morality and divorces his values from matter. The man who loves one woman, but sleeps with another-the man who admires the talent of a worker, but hires another-the man who considers one cause to be just, but donates his money to the support of another-the man who holds high standards of craftsmanship, but devotes his effort to the production of trash-these are the men who have renounced matter, the men who believe that the values of their spirit cannot be brought into material reality.


    "Do you say it is the spirit that such men have renounced? Yes, of course. You cannot have one without the other. You are an indivisible entity of matter and consciousness. Renounce your consciousness and you become a brute. Renounce your body and you become a fake. Renounce the material world and you surrender it to evil.


    "And that is precisely the goal of your morality, the duty that your code demands of you. Give to that which you do not enjoy, serve that which you do not admire, submit to that which you consider evil-surrender the world to the values of others, deny, reject, renounce your self. Your self is your mind; renounce it and you become a chunk of meat ready for any cannibal to swallow.


    "It is your mind that they want you to surrender-all those who preach the creed of sacrifice, whatever their tags or their motives, whether they demand it for the sake of your soul or of your body, whether they promise you another life in heaven or a full stomach on this earth. Those who start by saying: ''It is selfish to pursue your own wishes, you must sacrifice them to the wishes of others''-end up by saying: ''It is selfish to uphold your convictions, you must sacrifice them to the convictions of others.


    "This much is true: the most selfish of all things is the independent mind that recognizes no authority higher than its own and no value higher than its judgment of truth. You are asked to sacrifice your intellectual integrity, your logic, your reason, your standard of truth-in favor of becoming a prostitute whose standard is the greatest good for the greatest number.


    "If you search your code for guidance, for an answer to the question: ''What is the good?''-the only answer you will find is ''The good of others.'' The good is whatever others wish, whatever you feel they feel they wish, or whatever you feel they ought to feel. ''The good of others'' is a magic formula that transforms anything into gold, a formula to be recited as a guarantee of moral glory and as a fumigator for any action, even the slaughter of a continent. Your standard of virtue is not an object, not an act, not a principle, but an intention. You need no proof, no reasons, no success, you need not achieve in fact the good of others-all you need to know is that your motive was the good of others, not your own. Your only definition of the good is a negation: the good is the ''non-good for me.''


    "Your code-which boasts that it upholds eternal, absolute, objective moral values and scorns the conditional, the relative and the subjective-your code hands out, as its version of the absolute, the following rule of moral conduct: If you wish it, it''s evil; if others wish it, it''s good; if the motive of your action is your welfare, don''t do it; if the motive is the welfare of others, then anything goes.


    "As this double-jointed, double-standard morality splits you in half, so it splits mankind into two enemy camps: one is you, the other is all the rest of humanity. You are the only outcast who has no right to wish to live. You are the only servant, the rest are the masters, you are the only giver, the rest are the takers, you are the eternal debtor, the rest are the creditors never to be paid off. You must not question their right to your sacrifice, or the nature of their wishes and their needs: their right is conferred upon them by a negative, by the fact that they are ''non-you.''


    "For those of you who might ask questions, your code provides a consolation prize and booby-trap: it is for your own happiness, it says, that you must serve the happiness of others, the only way to achieve your joy is to give it up to others, the only way to achieve your prosperity is to surrender your wealth to others, the only way to protect your life is to protect all men except yourself-and if you find no joy in this procedure, it is your own fault and the proof of your evil; if you were good, you would find your happiness in providing a banquet for others, and your dignity in existing on such crumbs as they might care to toss you.


    "You who have no standard of self-esteem, accept the guilt and dare not ask the questions. But you know the unadmitted answer, refusing to acknowledge what you see, what hidden premise moves your world. You know it, not in honest statement, but as a dark uneasiness within you, while you flounder between guilty cheating and grudgingly practicing a principle too vicious to name.


    "I, who do not accept the unearned, neither in values nor in guilt, am here to ask the questions you evaded. Why is it moral to serve the happiness of others, but not your own? If enjoyment is a value, why is it moral when experienced by others, but immoral when experienced by you? If the sensation of eating a cake is a value, why is it an immoral indulgence in your stomach, but a moral goal for you to achieve in the stomach of others? Why is it immoral for you to desire, but moral for others to do so? Why is it immoral to produce a value and keep it, but moral to give it away? And if it is not moral for you to keep a value, why is it moral for others to accept it? If you are selfless and virtuous when you give it, are they not selfish and vicious when they take it? Does virtue consist of serving vice? Is the moral purpose of those who are good, self-immolation for the sake of those who are evil?


    "The answer you evade, the monstrous answer is: No, the takers are not evil, provided they did not earn the value you gave them. It is not immoral for them to accept it, provided they are unable to produce it, unable to deserve it, unable to give you any value in return. It is not immoral for them to enjoy it, provided they do not obtain it by right.


    "Such is the secret core of your creed, the other half of your double standard: it is immoral to live by your own effort, but moral to live by the effort of others-it is immoral to consume your own product, but moral to consume the products of others-it is immoral to earn, but moral to mooch-it is the parasites who are the moral justification for the existence of the producers, but the existence of the parasites is an end in itself-it is evil to profit by achievement, but good to profit by sacrifice-it is evil to create your own happiness, but good to enjoy it at the price of the blood of others.


    "Your code divides mankind into two castes and commands them to live by opposite rules: those who may desire anything and those who may desire nothing, the chosen and the demand, the riders and the carriers, the eaters and the eaten. What standard determines your caste? What passkey admits you to the moral elite? The passkey is lack of value.


    "Whatever the value involved, it is your lack of it that gives you a claim upon those who don''t lack it. It is your need that gives you a claim to rewards. If you are able to satisfy your need, your ability annuls your right to satisfy it. But a need you are unable to satisfy gives you first right to the lives of mankind.


    "If you succeed, any man who fails is your master; if you fail, any man who succeeds is your serf. Whether your failure is just or not, whether your wishes are rational or not, whether your misfortune is undeserved or the result of your vices, it is misfortune that gives you a right to rewards. It is pain, regardless of its nature or cause, pain as a primary absolute, that gives you a mortgage on all of existence.


    "If you heal your pain by your own effort, you receive no moral credit: your code regards it scornfully as an act of self-interest. Whatever value you seek to acquire, be it wealth or food or love or rights, if you acquire it by means of your Virtue, your code does not regard it as a moral acquisition: you occasion no loss to anyone, it is a trade, not alms; a payment, not a sacrifice. The deserved belongs in the selfish, commercial realm of mutual profit; it is only the undeserved that calls for that moral transaction which consists of profit to one at the price of disaster to the other. To demand rewards for your virtue is selfish and immoral; it is your lack of virtue that transforms your demand into a moral right.


    "A morality that holds need as a claim, holds emptiness-non-existence-as its standard of value; it rewards an absence, a defeat: weakness, inability, incompetence, suffering, disease, disaster, the lack, the fault, the flaw-the zero.


    "Who provides the account to pay these claims? Those who are cursed for being non-zeros, each to the extent of his distance from that ideal. Since all values are the product of virtues, the degree of your virtue is used as the measure of your penalty; the degree of your faults is used as the measure of your gain. Your code declares that the rational man must sacrifice himself to the irrational, the independent man to parasites, the honest man to the dishonest, the man of justice to the unjust, the productive man to thieving loafers, the man of integrity to compromising knaves, the man of self-esteem to sniveling neurotics. Do you wonder at the meanness of soul in those you see around you? The man who achieves these virtues will not accept your moral code; the man who accepts your moral code will not achieve these virtues.


    "Under a morality of sacrifice, the first value you sacrifice is morality; the next is self-esteem. When need is the standard, every man is both victim and parasite. As a victim, he must labor to fill the needs of others, leaving himself in the position of a parasite whose needs must be filled by others. He cannot approach his fellow men except in one of two disgraceful roles: he is both a beggar and a sucker.


    "You fear the man who has a dollar less than you, that dollar is rightfully his, he makes you feel like a moral defrauder. You hate the man who has a dollar more than you, that dollar is rightfully yours, he makes you feel that you are morally defrauded. The man below is a source of, your guilt, the man above is a source of your frustration. You do not know what to surrender or demand, when to give and when to grab, what pleasure in life is rightfully yours and what debt is still unpaid to others-you struggle to evade, as ''theory,'' the knowledge that by the moral standard you''ve accepted you are guilty every moment of your life, there is no mouthful of food you swallow that is not needed by someone somewhere on earth-and you give up the problem in blind resentment, you conclude that moral perfection is not to be achieved or desired, that you will muddle through by snatching as snatch can and by avoiding the eyes of the young, of those who look at you as if self-esteem were possible and they expected you to have it. Guilt is all that you retain within your soul-and so does every other man, as he goes past, avoiding your eyes. Do you wonder why your morality has not achieved brotherhood on earth or the good will of man to man?


    "The justification of sacrifice, that your morality propounds, is more corrupt than the corruption it purports to justify. The motive of your sacrifice, it tells you, should be love-the love you ought to feel for every man. A morality that professes the belief that the values of the spirit are more precious than matter, a morality that teaches you to scorn a whore who gives her body indiscriminately to all men-this same morality demands that you surrender your soul to promiscuous love for all comers.


    "As there can be no causeless wealth, so there can be no causeless love or any sort of causeless emotion. An emotion is a response to a face of reality, an estimate dictated by your standards. To love is to value. The man who tells you that it is possible to value without values, to love those whom you appraise as worthless, is the man who tells you that it is possible to grow rich by consuming without producing and that paper money is as valuable as gold.


    "Observe that he does not expect you to feel a causeless fear. When his kind get into power, they are expert at contriving means of terror, at giving you ample cause to feel the fear by which they desire to rule you. But when it comes to love, the highest of emotions, you permit them to shriek at you accusingly that you are a moral delinquent if you''re incapable of feeling causeless love. When a man feels fear without reason, you call him to the attention of a psychiatrist; you are not so careful to protect the meaning, the nature and the dignity of love.


    "Love is the expression of one''s values, the greatest reward you can earn for the moral qualities you have achieved in your character and person, the emotional price paid by one man for the joy he receives from the virtues of another. Your morality demands that you divorce your love from values and hand it down to any vagrant, not as response to his worth, but as response to his need, not as reward, but as alms, not as a payment for virtues, but as a blank check on vices. Your morality tells you that the purpose of love is to set you free of the bonds of morality, that love is superior to moral judgment, that true love transcends, forgives and survives every manner of evil in its object, and the greater the love the greater the depravity it permits to the loved. To love a man for his virtues is paltry and human, it tells you; to love him for his flaws is divine. To love those who are worthy of it is self-interest; to love the unworthy is sacrifice. You owe your love to those who don''t deserve it, and the less they deserve it, the more love you owe them-the more loathsome the object, the nobler your love-the more unfastidious your love, the greater the virtue-and if you can bring your soul to the state of a dump heap that welcomes anything on equal terms, if you can cease to value moral values, you have achieved the state of moral perfection.


    "Such is your morality of sacrifice and such are the twin ideals it offers: to refashion the life of your body in the image of a human stockyard, and the life of your spirit in the image of a dump.


    "Such was your goal-and you''ve reached it. Why do you now moan complaints about man''s impotence and the futility of human aspirations? Because you were unable to prosper by seeking destruction? Because you were unable to find joy by worshipping pain? Because you were unable to live by holding death as your standard of value?


    "The degree of your ability to live was the degree to which you broke your moral code, yet you believe that those who preach it are friends of humanity, you damn yourself and dare not question their motives or their goals. Take a look at them now, when you face your last choice-and if you choose to perish, do so with full knowledge of how cheaply so small an enemy has claimed your life.


    "The mystics of both schools, who preach the creed of sacrifice, are germs that attack you through a single sore: your fear of relying on your mind. They tell you that they possess a means of knowledge higher than the mind, a mode of consciousness superior to reason-like a special pull with some bureaucrat of the universe who gives them secret tips withheld from others. The mystics of spirit declare that they possess an extra sense you lack: this special sixth sense consists of contradicting the whole of the knowledge of your five. The mystics of muscle do not bother to assert any claim to extrasensory perception: they merely declare that your senses are not valid, and that their wisdom consists of perceiving your blindness by some manner of unspecified means. Both kinds demand that you invalidate your own consciousness and surrender yourself into their power. They offer you, as proof of their superior knowledge, the fact that they assert the opposite of everything you know, and as proof of their superior ability to deal with existence, the fact that they lead you to misery, self-sacrifice, starvation, destruction.


    "They claim that they perceive a mode of being superior to your existence on this earth. The mystics of spirit call it ''another dimension,'' which consists of denying dimensions. The mystics of muscle call it ''the future,'' which consists of denying the present. To exist is to possess identity. What identity are they able to give to their superior realm? They keep telling you what it is not, but never tell you what it is. All their identifications consist of negating: God is that which no human mind can know, they say-and proceed to demand that you consider it knowledge-God is non-man, heaven is non-earth, soul is non-body, virtue ''is non-profit, A is non-A, perception is non-sensory, knowledge is non-reason. Their definitions are not acts of defining, but of wiping out.


    "It is only the metaphysics of a leech that would cling to the idea of a universe where a zero is a standard of identification. A leech would want to seek escape from the necessity to name its own nature-escape from the necessity to know that the substance on which it builds its private universe is blood.


    "What is the nature of that superior world to which they sacrifice the world that exists? The mystics of spirit curse matter, the mystics of muscle curse profit the first wish men to profit by renouncing the earth, the second wish men to inherit the earth by renouncing all profit. Their non-material, non-profit worlds are realms where rivers run with milk and coffee, where wine spurts from rocks at their command, where pastry drops on them from clouds at the price of opening their mouth. On this material, profit-chasing earth, an enormous investment of virtue-of intelligence, integrity, energy, skill-is required to construct a railroad to carry them the distance of one mile; in their non-material, non-profit world, they travel from planet to planet at the cost of a wish. If an honest person asks them: ''How?''-they answer with righteous scorn that a ''how'' is the concept of vulgar realists; the concept of superior spirits is ''Somehow.'' On this earth restricted by matter and profit, rewards are achieved by thought; in a world set free of such restrictions, rewards are achieved by wishing.


    "And that is the whole of their shabby secret. The secret of all their esoteric philosophies, of all their dialectics and super-senses, of their evasive eyes and snarling words, the secret for which they destroy civilization, language, industries and lives, the secret for which they pierce their own eyes and eardrums, grind out their senses, blank out their minds, the purpose for which they dissolve the absolutes of reason, logic, matter, existence, reality-is to erect upon that plastic fog a single holy absolute: their Wish.


    "The restriction they seek to escape is the law of identity. The freedom they seek is freedom from the fact that an A will remain an A, no matter what their tears or tantrums-that a river will not bring them milk, no matter what their hunger-that water will not run uphill, no matter what comforts they could gain if it did, and if they want to lift it to the roof of a skyscraper, they must do it by a process of thought and labor, in which the nature of an inch of pipe line counts, but their feelings do not-that their feelings are impotent to alter the course of a single speck of dust in space or the nature of any action they have committed.


    "Those who tell you that man is unable to perceive a reality undistorted by his senses, mean that they are unwilling to perceive a reality undistorted by their feelings. ''Things as they are'' are things as perceived by your mind; divorce them from reason and they become ''things as perceived by your wishes.''


    "There is no honest revolt against reason-and when you accept any part of their creed, your motive is to get away with something your reason would not permit you to attempt. The freedom you seek is freedom from the fact that if you stole your wealth, you are a scoundrel, no matter how much you give to charity or how many prayers you recite-that if you sleep with sluts, you''re not a worthy husband, no matter how anxiously you feel that you love our wife next morning-that you are an entity, not a series of random pieces scattered through a universe where nothing sticks and nothing commits you to anything, the universe of a child''s nightmare where identities switch and swim, where the rotter and the hero are interchangeable parts arbitrarily assumed at will-that you are a man-that you are an entity-that you are.


    "No matter how eagerly you claim that the goal of your mystic wishing is a higher mode of life, the rebellion against identity is the wish for non-existence. The desire not to be anything is the desire not to be.


    "Your teachers, the mystics of both schools, have reversed causality in their consciousness, then strive to reverse it in existence. They take their emotions as a cause, and their mind as a passive effect. They make their emotions their tool for perceiving reality. They hold their desires as an irreducible primary, as a fact superseding all facts. An honest man does not desire until he has identified the object of his desire. He says: ''It is, therefore I want it.'' They say: ''I want it, therefore it is.''


    "They want to cheat the axiom of existence and consciousness, they want their consciousness to be an instrument not of perceiving but of creating existence, and existence to be not the object but the subject of their consciousness-they want to be that God they created in their image and likeness, who creates a universe out of a void by means of an arbitrary whim. But reality is not to be cheated. What they achieve is the opposite of their desire. They want an omnipotent power over existence; instead, they lose the power of the consciousness. By refusing to know, they condemn themselves to the horror of a perpetual unknown.


    "Those irrational wishes that draw you to their creed, those emotions you worship as an idol, on whose altar you sacrifice the earth, that dark, incoherent passion within you, which you take as the voice of God or of your glands, is nothing more than the corpse of your mind. An emotion that clashes with your reason, an emotion that you cannot explain or control, is only the carcass of that stale thinking which you forbade your mind to revise.


    "Whenever you committed the evil of refusing to think and to see, of exempting from the absolute of reality some one small wish of yours, whenever you chose to say: Let me withdraw from the judgment of reason the cookies I stole, or the existence of God, let me have my one irrational whim and I will be a man of reason about all else-that was the act of subverting your consciousness, the act of corrupting your mind. Your mind then became a fixed jury who takes orders from a secret underworld, whose verdict distorts the evidence to fit an absolute it dares not touch-and a censored reality is the result, a splintered reality where the bits you chose to see are floating among the chasms of those you didn''t, held together by that embalming fluid of the mind which is an emotion exempted from thought.


    "The links you strive to drown are casual connections. The enemy you seek to defeat is the law of causality: it permits you no miracles. The law of causality is the law of identity applied to action. All actions are caused by entities. The nature of an action is caused and determined by the nature of the entities that act; a thing cannot act in contradiction to its nature. An action not caused by an entity would be caused by a zero, which would mean a zero controlling a thing, a non-entity controlling an entity, the non-existent ruling the existent-which is the universe of your teachers'' desire, the cause of their doctrines of causeless action, the reason of their revolt against reason, the goal of their morality, their politics, their economics, the ideal they strive for: the reign of the zero.


    "The law of identity does not permit you to have your cake and eat it, too. The law of causality does not permit you to eat your cake before you have it. But if you drown both laws in the blanks of your mind, if you pretend to yourself and to others that you don''t see-then you can try to proclaim your right to eat your cake today and mine tomorrow, you can preach that the way to have a cake is to eat it first, before you bake it, that the way to produce is to start by consuming, that all wishers have an equal claim to all things, since nothing is caused by anything. The corollary of the causeless in matter is the unearned in spirit.


    "Whenever you rebel against causality, your motive is the fraudulent desire, not to escape it, but worse: to reverse it. You want unearned love, as if love, the effect, could give you personal value, the cause-you want unearned admiration, as if admiration, the effect, could give you virtue, the cause-you want unearned wealth, as if wealth, the effect, could give you ability, the cause-you plead for mercy, mercy, not justice, as if an unearned forgiveness could wipe out the cause of your plea. And to indulge your ugly little shams, you support the doctrines of your teachers, while they run hog-wild proclaiming that spending, the effect, creates riches, the cause, that machinery, the effect, creates intelligence, the cause, that your sexual desires, the effect, create your philosophical values, the cause.


    "Who pays for the orgy? Who causes the causeless? Who are the victims, condemned to remain unacknowledged and to perish in silence, lest their agony disturb your pretense that they do not exist? We are, we, the men of the mind.


    "We are the cause of all the values that you covet, we who perform the process of thinking, which is the process of defining identity and discovering causal connections. We taught you to know, to speak, to produce, to desire, to love. You who abandon reason-were it not for us who preserve it, you would not be able to fulfill or even to conceive your wishes. You would not be able to desire the clothes that had not been made, the automobile that had not been invented, the money that had not been devised, as exchange for goods that did not exist, the admiration that had not been experienced for men who had achieved nothing, the love that belongs and pertains only to those who preserve their capacity to think, to choose, to value.


    "You-who leap like a savage out of the jungle of your feelings to the Fifth Avenue of our New York and proclaim that you want to keep the electric lights, but to destroy the generators-it is our wealth that you use while destroying us, it is our values that you use while damning us, it is our language that you use while denying the mind.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "Just as your mystics of spirit invented their heaven in the image of our earth, omitting our existence, and promised you rewards created by miracle out of non-matter-so your modern mystics of muscle omit our existence and promise you a heaven where matter shapes itself of its own causeless will into all the rewards desired by your non-mind.


    "For centuries, the mystics of spirit had existed by running a protection racket-by making life on earth unbearable, then charging you for consolation and relief, by forbidding all the virtues that make existence possible, then riding on the shoulders of your guilt, by declaring production and joy to be sins, then collecting blackmail from the sinners. We, the men of the mind, were the unnamed victims of their creed, we who were willing to break their moral code and to bear damnation for the sin of reason-we who thought and acted, while they wished and prayed-we who were moral outcasts, we who were bootleggers of life when life was held to be a crime-while they basked in moral glory for the virtue of surpassing material greed and of distributing in selfless charity the material goods produced by-blank-out.


    "Now we are chained and commanded to produce by savages who do not grant us even the identification of sinners-by savages who proclaim that we do not exist, then threaten to deprive us of the life we don''t possess, if we fail to provide them with the goods we don''t produce. Now we are expected to continue running railroads and to know the minute when a train will arrive after crossing the span of a continent, we are expected to continue running steel mills and to know the molecular structure of every drop of metal in the cables of your bridges and in the body of the airplanes that support you in mid-air-while the tribes of your grotesque little mystics of muscle fight over the carcass of our world, gibbering in sounds of non-language that there are no principles, no absolutes, no knowledge, no mind.


    "Dropping below the level of a savage, who believes that the magic words he utters have the power to alter reality, they believe that reality can be altered by the power of the words they do not utter-and their magic tool is the blank-out, the pretense that nothing can come into existence past the voodoo of their refusal to identify it.


    "As they feed on stolen wealth in body, so they feed on stolen concepts in mind, and proclaim that honesty consists of refusing to know that one is stealing. As they use effects while denying causes, so they use our concepts while denying the roots and the existence of the concepts they are using. As they seek, not to build, but to take over industrial plants, so they seek, not to think, but to take over human thinking.


    "As they proclaim that the only requirement for running a factory is the ability to turn the cranks of the machines, and blank out the question of who created the factory-so they proclaim that there are no entities, that nothing exists but motion, and blank out the fact that motion presupposes the thing which moves, that without the concept of entity, there can be no such concept as ''motion.'' As they proclaim their right to consume the unearned, and blank out the question of who''s to produce it-so they proclaim that there is no law of identity, that nothing exists but change, and blank out the fact that change presupposes the concepts of what changes, from what and to what, that, without the law of identity no such concept as ''change'' is possible. As they rob an industrialist while denying his value, so they seek to seize power over all of existence while denying that existence exists.


    "''We know that we know nothing,'' they chatter, blanking out the fact that they are claiming knowledge-''There are not absolutes,'' they chatter, blanking out the fact that they are uttering an absolute-''You cannot prove that you exist or that you''re conscious,'' they chatter, blanking out the fact that proof presupposes existence, consciousness and a complex chain of knowledge: the existence of something to know, of a consciousness able to know it, and of a knowledge that has learned to distinguish between such concepts as the proved and the unproved.


    "When a savage who has not learned to speak declares that existence must be proved, he is asking you to prove it by means of non-existence-when he declares that your consciousness must be proved, he is asking you to prove it by means of unconsciousness-he is asking you to step into a void outside of existence and consciousness to give him proof of both-he is asking you to become a zero gaining knowledge about a zero.


    "When he declares that an axiom is a matter of arbitrary choice and he doesn''t choose to accept the axiom that he exists, he blanks out the fact that he has accepted it by uttering that sentence, that the only way to reject it is to shut one''s mouth, expound no theories and die.


    "An axiom is a statement that identifies the base of knowledge and of any further statement pertaining to that knowledge, a statement necessarily contained in all others, whether any particular speaker chooses to identify it or not. An axiom is a proposition that defeats its opponents by the fact that they have to accept it and use it in the process of any attempt to deny it. Let the caveman who does not choose to accept the axiom of identity, try to present his theory without using the concept of identity or any concept derived from it-let the anthropoid who does not choose to accept the existence of nouns, try to devise a language without nouns, adjectives or verbs-let the witch-doctor who does not choose to accept the validity of sensory perception, try to prove it without using the data he obtained by sensory perception-let the head-hunter who does not choose to accept the validity of logic, try to prove it without using logic-let the pigmy who proclaims that a skyscraper needs no foundation after it reaches its fiftieth story, yank the base from under his building, not yours-let the cannibal who snarls that the freedom of man''s mind was needed to create an industrial civilization, but is not needed to maintain it, be given an arrowhead and bearskin, not a university chair of economics.


    "Do you think they are taking you back to dark ages? They are taking you back to darker ages than any your history has known. Their goal is not the era of pre-science, but the era of pre-language. Their purpose is to deprive you of the concept on which man''s mind, his life and his culture depend: the concept of an objective reality. Identify the development of a human consciousness-and you will know the purpose of their creed.


    "A savage is a being who has not grasped that A is A and that reality is real. He has arrested his mind at the level of a baby''s, at the state when a consciousness acquires its initial sensory perception and has not learned to distinguish solid objects. It is to a baby that the world appears as a blur of motion, without things that move-and the birth of his mind is the day when he grasps that the streak that keeps flickering past him is his mother and the whirl beyond her is a curtain, that the two are solid entities and neither can turn into the other, that they are what they are, that they exist. The day when he grasps that matter has no volition is the day when he grasps that he has-and this is his birth as a human being. The day when he grasps that the reflection he sees in a mirror is not a delusion, that it is real, but it is not himself, that the mirage he sees in a desert is not a delusion, that the air and the light rays that cause it are real, but it is not a city, it is a city''s reflection-the day when he grasps that he is not a passive recipient of the sensations of any given moment, that his senses do not provide him with automatic knowledge in separate snatches independent of context, but only with the material of knowledge, which his mind must learn to integrate-the day when he grasps that his senses cannot deceive him, that physical objects cannot act without causes, that his organs of perception are physical and have no volition, no power to invent or to distort, that the evidence they give him is an absolute, but his mind must learn to understand it, his mind must discover the nature, the causes, the full context of his sensory material, his mind must identify the things that he perceives-that is the day of his birth as a thinker and scientist.


    "We are the men who reach that day; you are the men who choose to reach it partly; a savage is a man who never does.


    "To a savage, the world is a place of unintelligible miracles where anything is possible to inanimate matter and nothing is possible to him. His world is not the unknown, but that irrational horror: the unknowable. He believes that physical objects are endowed with a mysterious volition, moved by causeless, unpredictable whims, while he is a helpless pawn at the mercy of forces beyond his control. He believes that nature is ruled by demons who possess an omnipotent power and that reality is their fluid plaything, where they can turn his bowl of meal into a snake and his wife into a beetle at any moment, where the A he has never discovered can be any non-A they choose, where the only knowledge he possesses is that he must not attempt to know. He can count on nothing, he can only wish, and he spends his life on wishing, on begging his demons to grant him his wishes by the arbitrary power of their will, giving them credit when they do, taking the blame when they don''t, offering them sacrifices in token of his gratitude and sacrifices in token of his guilt, crawling on his belly in fear and worship of sun and moon and wind and rain and of any thug who announces himself as their spokesman, provided his words are unintelligible and his mask sufficiently frightening-he wishes, begs and crawls, and dies, leaving you, as a record of his view of existence, the distorted monstrosities of his idols, part-man, part-animal, part-spider, the embodiments of the world of non-A.


    "His is the intellectual state of your modern teachers and his is the world to which they want to bring you.


    "If you wonder by what means they propose to do it, walk into any college classroom and you will hear your professors teaching your children that man can be certain of nothing, that his consciousness has no validity whatever, that he can learn no facts and no laws of existence, that he''s incapable of knowing an objective reality. What, then, is his standard of knowledge and truth? Whatever others believe, is their answer. There is no knowledge, they teach, there''s only faith: your belief that you exist is an act of faith, no more valid than another''s faith in his right to kill you; the axioms of science are an act of faith, no more valid than a mystic''s faith in revelations; the belief that electric light can be produced by ''a generator is an act of faith, no more valid than the belief that it can be produced by a rabbit''s foot kissed under a stepladder on the first of the moon-truth is whatever people want it to be, and people are everyone except yourself; reality is whatever people choose to say it is, there are no objective facts, there are only people''s arbitrary wishes-a man who seeks knowledge in a laboratory by means of test tubes and logic is an old-fashioned, superstitious fool; a true scientist is a man who goes around taking public polls-and if it weren''t for the selfish greed of the manufacturers of steel girders, who have a vested interest in obstructing the progress of science, you would learn that New York City does not exist, because a poll of the entire population of the world would tell you by a landslide majority that their beliefs forbid its existence.


    "For centuries, the mystics of spirit have proclaimed that faith is superior to reason, but have not dared deny the existence of reason. Their heirs and products, the mystics of muscle, have completed their job and achieved their dream: they proclaim that everything is faith, and call it a revolt against believing. As revolt against unproved assertions, they proclaim that nothing can be proved; as revolt against supernatural knowledge, they proclaim that no knowledge is possible; as-revolt against the enemies of science, they proclaim that science is superstition; as revolt against the enslavement of the mind, they proclaim that there is no mind.


    "If you surrender your power to perceive, if you accept the switch of your standard from the objective to the collective and wait for mankind to tell you what to think, you will find another switch taking place before the eyes you have renounced: you will find that your teachers become the rulers of the collective, and if you then refuse to obey them, protesting that they are not the whole of mankind, they will answer: ''By what means do you know that we are not? Are, brother? Where did you get that old-fashioned term?''


    "If you doubt that such is their purpose, observe with what passionate consistency the mystics of muscle are striving to make you forget that a concept such as ''Mind'' has ever existed. Observe the twists of undefined verbiage, the words with rubber meanings, the terms left floating in midstream, by means of which they try to get around the recognition of the concept of ''thinking.'' Your consciousness, they tell you, consists of ''reflexes,'' ''reactions,'' ''experiences,'' ''urges,'' and ''drives''-and refuse to identify the means by which they acquired that knowledge, to identify the act they are performing when they tell it or the act you are performing when you listen. Words have the power to ''consider'' you, they say and refuse to identify the reason why words have the power to change your-blank-out. A student reading a book understands it through a process of-blank-out. A scientist working on an invention is engaged in the activity of-blank-out. A psychologist helping a neurotic to solve a problem and untangle a conflict, does it by means of-blank-out. An industrialist-blank-out-there is no such person. A factory is a ''natural resource,'' like a tree, a rock or a mud puddle.


    "The problem of production, they tell you, has been solved and deserves no study or concern; the only problem left for your ''reflexes'' to solve is now the problem of distribution. Who solved the problem of production? Humanity, they answer. What was the solution? The goods are here. How did they get here? Somehow. What caused it? Nothing has causes.


    "They proclaim that every man born is entitled to exist without labor and, the laws of reality to the contrary notwithstanding, is entitled to receive his ''minimum sustenance''-his food, his clothes, his shelter-with no effort on his part, as his due and his birthright. To receive it-from whom? Blank-out. Every man, they announce, owns an equal share of the technological benefits created in the world. Created-by whom? Blank-out. Frantic cowards who posture as defenders of industrialists now define the purpose of economics as ''an adjustment between the unlimited desires of men and the goods supplied in limited quantity.'' Supplied-by whom? Blank-out. Intellectual hoodlums who pose as professors, shrug away the thinkers of the past by declaring that their social theories were based on the impractical assumption that man was a rational being-but since men are not rational, they declare, there ought to be established a system that will make it possible for them to exist while being irrational, which means: while defying reality. Who will make it possible? Blank-out. Any stray mediocrity rushes into print with plans to control the production of mankind-and whoever agrees or disagrees with his statistics, no one questions his right to enforce his plans by means of a gun. Enforce-on whom? Blank-out. Random females with causeless incomes titter on trips around the globe and return to deliver the message that the backward peoples of the world demand a higher standard of living. Demand-of whom? Blank-out.


    "And to forestall any inquiry into the cause of the difference between a jungle village and New York City, they resort to the ultimate obscenity of explaining man''s industrial progress-skyscrapers, cable bridges, power motors, railroad trains-by declaring that man is an animal who possesses an ''instinct of tool-making.''


    "Did you wonder what is wrong with the world? You are now seeing the climax of the creed of the uncaused and unearned. All your gangs of mystics, of spirit or muscle, are fighting one another for power to rule you, snarling that love is the solution for all the problems of your spirit and that a whip is the solution for all the problems of your body-you who have agreed to have no mind. Granting man less dignity than they grant to cattle, ignoring what an animal trainer could tell them-that no animal can be trained by fear, that a tortured elephant will trample its torturer, but will not work for him or carry his burdens-they expect man to continue to produce electronic tubes, supersonic airplanes, atom-smashing engines and interstellar telescopes, with his ration of meat for reward and a lash on his back for incentive.


    "Make no mistake about the character of mystics. To undercut your consciousness has always been their only purpose throughout the ages-and power, the power to rule you by force, has always been their only lust.


    "From the rites of the jungle witch-doctors, which distorted reality into grotesque absurdities, stunted the minds of their victims and kept them in terror of the supernatural for stagnant stretches of centuries-to the supernatural doctrines of the Middle Ages, which kept men huddling on the mud floors of their-hovels, in terror that the devil might steal the soup they had worked eighteen hours to earn-to the seedy little smiling professor who assures you that your brain has no capacity to think, that you have no means of perception and must blindly obey the omnipotent will of that supernatural force: Society-all of it is the same performance for the same and only purpose: to reduce you to the kind of pulp that has surrendered the validity of its consciousness.


    "But it cannot be done to you without your consent. If you permit it to be done, you deserve it.


    "When you listen to a mystic''s harangue on the impotence of the human mind and begin to doubt your consciousness, not his, when you permit your precariously semi-rational state to be shaken by any assertion and decide it is safer to trust his superior certainty and knowledge, the joke is on both of you: your sanction is the only source of certainty he has. The supernatural power that a mystic dreads, the unknowable spirit he worships, the consciousness he considers omnipotent is-yours.


    "A mystic is a man who surrendered his mind at its first encounter with the minds of others. Somewhere in the distant reaches of his childhood, when his own understanding of reality clashed with the assertions of others, with their arbitrary orders and contradictory demands, he gave in to so craven a fear of independence that he renounced his rational faculty. At the crossroads of the choice between ''I know'' and ''They say,'' he chose the authority of others, he chose to submit rather than to understand, to believe rather than to think. Faith in the supernatural begins as faith in the superiority of others. His surrender took the form of the feeling that he must hide his lack of understanding, that others possess some mysterious knowledge of which he alone is deprived, that reality is whatever they want it to be, through some means forever denied to him.


    "From then on, afraid to think, he is left at the mercy of unidentified feelings. His feelings become his only guide, his only remnant of personal identity, he clings to them with ferocious possessiveness-and whatever thinking he does is devoted to the struggle of hiding from himself that the nature of his feelings is terror.


    "When a mystic declares that he feels the existence of a power superior to reason, he feels it all right, but that power is not an omniscient super-spirit of the universe, it is the consciousness of any passer-by to whom he has surrendered his own. A mystic is driven by the urge to impress, to cheat, to flatter, to deceive, to force that omnipotent consciousness of others. ''They'' are his only key to reality, he feels that he cannot exist save by harnessing their mysterious power and extorting their unaccountable consent. ''They'' are his only means of perception and, like a blind man who depends on the sight of a dog, he feels he must leash them in order to live. To control the consciousness of others becomes his only passion; power-lust is a weed that grows only in the vacant lots of an abandoned mind.


    "Every dictator is a mystic, and every mystic is a potential dictator. A mystic craves obedience from men, not their agreement. He wants them to surrender their consciousness to his assertions, his edicts, his wishes, his whims-as his consciousness is surrendered to theirs. He wants to deal with men by means of faith and force-he finds no satisfaction in their consent if he must earn it by means of facts and reason. Reason is the enemy he dreads and, simultaneously, considers precarious: reason, to him, is a means of deception, he feels that men possess some power more potent than reason-and only their causeless belief or their forced obedience can give him a sense of security, a proof that he has gained control of the mystic endowment he lacked. His lust is to command, not to convince: conviction requires an act of independence and press on the absolute of an objective reality. What he seeks is power over reality and over men''s means of perceiving it, their mind, the power to interpose his will between existence and consciousness, as if, by agreeing to fake the reality he orders them to fake, men would, in fact, create it.


    "Just as the mystic is a parasite in matter, who expropriates the wealth created by others-just as he is a parasite in spirit, who plunders the ideas created by others-so he falls below the level of a lunatic who creates his own distortion of reality, to the level of a parasite of lunacy who seeks a distortion created by others.


    "There is only one state that fulfills the mystic''s longing for infinity, non-causality, non-identity: death. No matter what unintelligible causes he ascribes to his incommunicable feelings, whoever rejects reality rejects existence-and the feelings that move him from then on are hatred for all the values of man''s life, and lust for all the evils that destroy it. A mystic relishes the spectacle of suffering, of poverty, subservience and terror; these give him a feeling of triumph, a proof of the defeat of rational reality. But no other reality exists.


    "No matter whose welfare he professes to serve, be it the welfare of God or of that disembodied gargoyle he describes as ''The People,'' no matter what ideal he proclaims in terms of some supernatural dimension-in fact, in reality, on earth, his ideal is death, his craving is to kill, his only satisfaction is to torture.


    "Destruction is the only end that the mystics'' creed has ever achieved, as it is the only end that, you see them achieving today, and if the ravages wrought by their acts have not made them question their doctrines, if they profess to be moved by love, yet are not deterred by piles of human corpses, it is because the truth about their souls is worse than the obscene excuse you have allowed them, the excuse that the end justifies the means and that the horrors they practice are means to nobler ends. The truth is that those horrors are their ends.


    "You who''re depraved enough to believe that you could adjust yourself to a mystic''s dictatorship and could please him by obeying his orders-there is no way to please him; when you obey, he will reverse his orders; he seeks obedience for the sake of obedience and destruction for the sake of destruction. You who are craven enough to believe that you can make terms with a mystic by giving in to his extortions-there is no way to buy him off, the bribe he wants is your life, as slowly or as fast as you are willing to give it in-and the monster he seeks to bribe is the hidden blank-out in his mind, which drives him to kill in order not to learn that the death he desires is his own.


    "You who are innocent enough to believe that the forces let loose in your world today are moved by greed for material plunder-the mystics'' scramble for spoils is only a screen to conceal from their mind the nature of their motive. Wealth is a means of human life, and they clamor for wealth in imitation of living beings, to pretend to themselves that they desire to live, but their swinish indulgence in plundered luxury is not enjoyment, it is escape. They do not want to own your fortune, they want you to lose it; they do not want to succeed, they want you to fail; they do not want to live, they want you to die; they desire nothing, they hate existence, and they keep running, each trying not to learn that the object of his hatred is himself.


    "You who''ve never grasped the nature of evil, you who describe them as ''misguided idealists''-may the God you invented forgive you!-they are the essence of evil, they, those anti-living objects who seek, by devouring the world, to fill the selfless zero of their soul. It is not your wealth that they''re after. Theirs is a conspiracy against the mind, which means: against life and man.


    "It is a conspiracy without leader or direction, and the random little thugs of the moment who cash in on the agony of one land or another are chance scum riding the torrent from the broken dam of the sewer of centuries, from the reservoir of hatred for reason, for logic, for ability, for achievement, for joy, stored by every whining anti-human who ever preached the superiority of the ''heart'' over the mind.


    "It is a conspiracy of all those who seek, not to live, but to get away with living, those who seek to cut just one small corner of reality and are drawn, by feeling, to all the others who are busy cutting other corners-a conspiracy that unites by links of evasion all those who pursue a zero as a value: the professor who, unable to think, takes pleasure in crippling the mind of his students, the businessman who, to protect his stagnation, takes pleasure in chaining the ability of competitors, the neurotic who, to defend his self-loathing, takes pleasure in breaking men of self-esteem, the incompetent who takes pleasure in defeating achievement, the mediocrity who takes pleasure in demolishing greatness, the eunuch who takes pleasure in the castration of all pleasure-and all their intellectual munition-makers, all those who preach that the immolation of virtue will transform vices into virtue. Death is the premise at the root of their theories, death is the goal of their actions in practice-and you are the last of their victims.


    "We, who are the living buffers between you and the nature of your creed, are no longer there to save you from the effects of your chosen beliefs. We are no longer willing to pay with our lives the debts you incurred in yours or the moral deficit piled up by all the generations behind you. You had been living on borrowed time-and I am the man who has called in the loan.


    "I am the man whose existence your blank-outs were intended to permit you to ignore. I am the man whom you did not want either to live or to die. You did not want me to live, because you were afraid of knowing that I carried the responsibility you dropped and that your lives depended upon me; you did not want me to die, because you knew it.


    "Twelve years ago, when I worked in your world, I was an inventor. I was one of a profession that came last in human history and will be first to vanish on the way back to the sub-human. An inventor is a man who asks ''Why?'' of the universe and lets nothing stand between the answer and his mind.


    "Like the man who discovered the use of steam or the man who discovered the use oil, I discovered a source of energy which was available since the birth of the globe, but which men had not known how to use except as an object of worship, of terror and of legends without a thundering god. I completed the experimental model of a motor that would have made a fortune for me and for those who had hired me, a motor that would have raised the efficiency of every human installation using power and would have added the gift of higher productivity to every hour you spend at earning your living.


    "Then, one night at a factory meeting, I heard myself sentenced to death by reason of my achievement. I heard three parasites assert that my brain and my life were their property, that my right to exist was conditional and depended on the satisfaction of their desires. The purpose of my ability, they said, was to serve the needs of those who were less able. I had no right to live, they said, by reason of my competence for living: their right to live was unconditional, by reason of their incompetence.


    "Then I saw what was wrong with the world, I saw what destroyed men and nations, and where the battle for life had to be fought. I saw that the enemy was an inverted morality-and that my sanction was its only power. I saw that evil was impotent-that evil was the irrational, the blind, the anti-real-and that the only weapon of its triumph was the willingness of the good to serve it. Just as the parasites around me were proclaiming their helpless dependence on my mind and were expecting me voluntarily to accept a slavery they had no power to enforce, just as they were counting on my self-immolation to provide them with the means of their plan-so throughout the world and throughout men''s history, in every version and form, from the extortions of loafing relatives to the atrocities of collective countries, it is the good, the able, the men of reason, who act as their own destroyers, who transfuse to evil the blood of their virtue and let evil transmit to them the poison of destruction, thus gaining for evil the power of survival, and for their own values-the impotence of death. I saw that there comes a point, in the defeat of any man of virtue, when his own consent is needed for evil to win-and that no manner of injury done to him by others can succeed if he chooses to withhold his consent. I saw that I could put an end to your outrages by pronouncing a single word in my mind. I pronounced it. The word was ''No.''


    "I quit that factory. I quit your world, I made it my job to warn your victims and to give them the method and the weapon to fight you. The method was to refuse to deflect retribution. The weapon was justice.


    "If you want to know what you lost when I quit and when my strikers deserted your world-stand on an empty stretch of soil in a wilderness unexplored by men and ask yourself what manner of survival you would achieve and how long you would last if you refused to think, with no one around to teach you the motions, or, if you chose to think, how much your mind would be able to discover-ask yourself how many independent conclusions you have reached in the course of your life and how much of your time was spent on performing the actions you learned from others-ask yourself whether you would be able to discover how to till the soil and grow your food, whether you would be able to invent a wheel, a lever, an induction coil, a generator, an electronic tube-then decide whether men of ability are exploiters who live by the fruit of your labor and rob you of the wealth that you produce, and whether you dare to believe that you possess the power to enslave them. Let your women take a look at a jungle female with her shriveled face and pendulous breasts, as she sits grinding meal in a bowl, hour after hour, century by century-then let them ask themselves whether their ''instinct of tool-making'' will provide them with their electric refrigerators, their washing machines and vacuum cleaners, and, if not, whether they care to destroy those who provided it all, but not ''by instinct.''


    "Take a look around you, you savages who stutter that ideas are created by men''s means of production, that a machine is not the product of human thought, but a mystical power that produces human thinking. You have never discovered the industrial age-and you cling to the morality of the barbarian eras when a miserable form of human subsistence was produced by the muscular labor of slaves. Every mystic had always longed for slaves, to protect him from the material reality he dreaded. But you, you grotesque little atavists, stare blindly at the skyscrapers and smokestacks around you and dream of enslaving the material providers who are scientists, inventors, industrialists. When you clamor for public ownership of the means of production, you are clamoring for public ownership of the mind. I have taught my strikers that the answer you deserve is only: ''Try and get it.''


    "You proclaim yourself unable to harness the forces of inanimate matter, yet propose to harness the minds of men who are able to achieve the feats you cannot equal. You proclaim that you cannot survive without us, yet propose to dictate the terms of our survival. You proclaim that you need us, yet indulge the impertinence of asserting your right to rule us by force-and expect that we, who are not afraid of that physical nature which fills you with terror, will cower at the sight of any lout who has talked you into voting him a chance to command us.


    "You propose to establish a social order based on the following tenets: that you''re incompetent to run your own life, but competent to run the lives of others-that you''re unfit to exist in freedom, but fit to become an omnipotent ruler-that you''re unable to earn your living by the use of your own intelligence, but able to judge politicians and to vote them into jobs of total power over arts you have never seen, over sciences you have never studied, over achievements of which you have no knowledge, over the gigantic industries where you, by your own definition of your capacity, would be unable successfully to fill the job of assistant greaser.


    "This idol of your cult of zero-worship, this symbol of impotence-the congenital dependent-is your image of man and your standard of value, in whose likeness you strive to refashion your soul. ''It''s only human,'' you cry in defense of any depravity, reaching the stage of self-abasement where you seek to make the concept ''human'' mean the weakling, the fool, the rotter, the liar, the failure, the coward, the fraud, and to exile from the human race the hero, the thinker, the producer, the inventor, the strong, the purposeful, the pure-as if ''to feel'' were human, but to think were not, as if to fail were human, but to succeed were not, as if corruption were human, but virtue were not-as if the premise of death were proper to man, but the premise of life were not.


    "In order to deprive us of honor, that you may then deprive us of our wealth, you have always regarded us as slaves who deserve no moral recognition. You praise any venture that claims to be non-profit, and damn the men who made the profits that make the venture possible. You regard as ''in the public interest'' any project serving those who do not pay; it is not in the public interest to provide any services for those who do the paying. ''Public benefit'' is anything given as alms; to engage in trade is to injure the public. ''Public welfare'' is the welfare of those who do not earn it; those who do, are entitled to no welfare. ''The public,'' to you, is whoever has failed to achieve any virtue or value; whoever achieves it, whoever provides the goods you require for survival, ceases to be regarded as part of the public or as part of the human race.


    "What blank-out permitted you to hope that you could get away with this muck of contradictions and to plan it as an ideal society, when the ''No'' of your victims was sufficient to demolish the whole of your structure? What permits any insolent beggar to wave his sores in the face of his betters and to plead for help in the tone of a threat? You cry, as he does, that you are counting on our pity, but your secret hope is the moral code that has taught you to count on our guilt. You expect us to feel guilty of our virtues in the presence of your vices, wounds and failures-guilty of succeeding at existence, guilty of enjoying the life that you damn, yet beg us to help you to live.


    "Did you want to know who is John Galt? I am the first man of ability who refused to regard it as guilt. I am the first man who would not do penance for my virtues or let them be used as the tools of my destruction. I am the first man who would not suffer martyrdom at the hands of those who wished me to perish for the privilege of keeping them alive. I am the first man who told them that I did not need them, and until they learned to deal with me as traders, giving value for value, they would have to exist without me, as I would exist without them; then I would let them learn whose is the need and whose the ability-and if human survival is the standard, whose terms would set the way to survive.


    "I have done by plan and intention what has been done throughout history by silent default. There have always been men of intelligence who went on strike, in protest and despair, but they did not know the meaning of their action. The man who retires from public life, to think, but not to share his thoughts-the man who chooses to spend his years in the obscurity of menial employment, keeping to himself the fire of his mind, never giving it form, expression or reality, refusing to bring it into a world he despises-the man who is defeated by revulsion, the man who renounces before he has started, the man who gives up rather than give in, the man who functions at a fraction of his capacity, disarmed by his longing for an ideal he has not found-they are on strike, on strike against unreason, on strike against your world and your values. But not knowing any values of their own, they abandon the quest to know-in the darkness of their hopeless indignation, which is righteous without knowledge of the fight, and passionate without knowledge of desire, they concede to you the power of reality and surrender the incentives of their mind-and they perish in bitter futility, as rebels who never learned the object of their rebellion, as lovers who never discovered their love.


    "The infamous times you call the Dark Ages were an era of intelligence on strike, when men of ability went underground and lived undiscovered, studying in secret, and died; destroying the works of their mind, when only a few of the bravest of martyrs remained to keep the human race alive. Every period ruled by mystics was an era of stagnation and want, when most men were on strike against existence, working for less than their barest survival, leaving nothing but scraps for their rulers to loot, refusing to think, to venture, to produce, when the ultimate collector of their profits and the final authority on truth or error was the whim of some gilded degenerate sanctioned as superior to reason by divine right and by grace of a club. The road of human history was a string of blank-outs over sterile stretches eroded by faith and force, with only a few brief bursts of sunlight, when the released energy of the men of the mind performed the wonders you gaped at, admired and promptly extinguished again.


    "But there will be no extinction, this time. The game of the mystics is up. You will perish in and by your own unreality. We, the men of reason, will survive.


    "I have called out on strike the kind of martyrs who had never deserted you before. I have given them the weapon they had lacked: the knowledge of their own moral value. I have taught them that the world is ours, whenever we choose to claim it, by virtue and grace of the fact that ours is the Morality of Life. They, the great victims who had produced all the wonders of humanity''s brief summer, they, the industrialists, the conquerors of matter, had not discovered the nature of their right. They had known that theirs was the power. I taught them that theirs was the glory.


    "You, who dare to regard us as the moral inferiors of any mystic who claims supernatural visions-you, who scramble like vultures for plundered pennies, yet honor a fortune-teller above a fortune-maker-you, who scorn a businessman as ignoble, but esteem any posturing artist as exalted-the root of your standards is that mystic miasma which comes from primordial swamps, that cult of death, which pronounces a businessman immoral by reason of the fact that he keeps you alive. You, who claim that you long to rise above the crude concerns of the body, above the drudgery of serving mere physical needs-who is enslaved by physical needs: the Hindu who labors from sunrise to sunset at the shafts of a hand-plow for a bowl of rice, or the American who is driving a tractor? Who is the conqueror of physical reality: the man who sleeps on a bed of nails or the man who sleeps on an inner-spring mattress? Which is the monument to the triumph of the human spirit over matter: the germ-eaten hovels on the shorelines of the Ganges or the Atlantic skyline of New York?


    "Unless you learn the answers to these questions-and learn to stand at reverent attention when you face the achievements of man''s mind-you will not stay much longer on this earth, which we love and will not permit you to damn. You will not sneak by with the rest of your lifespan. I have foreshortened the usual course of history and have let you discover the nature of the payment you had hoped to switch to the shoulders of others. It is the last of your own living power that will now be drained to provide the unearned for the worshippers and carriers of Death. Do not pretend that a malevolent reality defeated you-you were defeated by your own evasions. Do not pretend that you will perish for a noble ideal-you will perish as fodder for the haters of man.


    "But to those of you who still retain a remnant of the dignity and will to love one''s life, I am offering the chance to make a choice. Choose whether you wish to perish for a morality you have never believed or practiced. Pause on the brink of self-destruction and examine your values and your life. You had known how to take an inventory of your wealth. Now take an inventory of your mind.


    "Since childhood, you have been hiding the guilty secret that you feel no desire to be moral, no desire to seek self-immolation, that you dread and hate your code, but dare not say it even to yourself, that you''re devoid of those moral ''instincts'' which others profess to feel. The less you felt, the louder you proclaimed your selfless love and servitude to others, in dread of ever letting them discover your own self, the self that you betrayed, the self that you kept in concealment, like a skeleton in the closet of your body. And they, who were at once your dupes and your deceivers, they listened and voiced their loud approval, in dread of ever letting you discover that they were harboring the same unspoken secret. Existence among you is a giant pretense, an act you all perform for one another, each feeling that he is the only guilty freak, each placing his moral authority in the unknowable known only to others, each faking the reality he feels they expect him to fake, some having the courage to break the vicious circle.


    "No matter what dishonorable compromise you''ve made with your impracticable creed, no matter what miserable balance, half-cynicism, half-superstition, you now manage to maintain, you still preserve the root, the lethal tenet: the belief that the moral and the practical are opposites. Since childhood, you have been running from the terror of a choice you have never dared fully to identify: If the practical, whatever you must practice to exist, whatever works, succeeds, achieves your purpose, whatever brings you food and joy, whatever profits you, is evil-and if the good, the moral, is the impractical, whatever fails, destroys, frustrates, whatever injures you and brings you loss or pain-then your choice is to be moral or to live.


    "The sole result of that murderous doctrine was to remove morality from life. You grew up to believe that moral laws bear no relation to the job of living, except as an impediment and threat, that man''s existence is an amoral jungle where anything goes and anything works. And in that fog of switching definitions which descends upon a frozen mind, you have forgotten that the evils damned by your creed were the virtues required for living, and you have come to believe that actual evils are the practical means of existence. Forgetting that the impractical ''good'' was self-sacrifice, you believe that self-esteem is impractical; forgetting that the practical ''evil'' was production, you believe that robbery is practical.


    "Swinging like a helpless branch in the wind of an uncharted moral wilderness, you dare not fully to be evil or fully to live. When you are honest, you feel the resentment of a sucker; when you cheat, you feel terror and shame, your pain is augmented by the feeling that pain is your natural state. You pity the men you admire, you believe they are doomed to fail; you envy the men you hate, you believe they are the masters of existence. You feel disarmed when you come up against a scoundrel: you believe that evil is bound to win, since the moral is the impotent, the impractical.


    "Morality, to you, is a phantom scarecrow made of duty, of boredom, of punishment, of pain, a cross-breed between the first schoolteacher of your past and the tax collector of your present, a scarecrow standing in a barren field, waving a stick to chase away your pleasures-and pleasure, to you, is a liquor-soggy brain, a mindless slut, the stupor of a moron who stakes his cash on some animal''s race, since pleasure cannot be moral.


    "If you identify your actual belief, you will find a triple damnation-of yourself, of life, of virtue-in the grotesque conclusion you have reached: you believe that morality is a necessary evil.


    "Do you wonder why you live without dignity, love without fire and die without resistance? Do you wonder why, wherever you look, you see nothing but unanswerable questions, why your life is tom by impossible conflicts, why you spend it straddling irrational fences to evade artificial choices, such as soul or body, mind or heart, security or freedom, private profit or public good?


    "Do you cry that you find no answers? By what means did you hope to find them? You reject your tool of perception-your mind-then complain that the universe is a mystery. You discard your key, then wail that all doors are locked against you. You start out in pursuit of the irrational, then damn existence for making no sense.


    "The fence you have been straddling for two hours-while hearing my words and seeking to escape them-is the coward''s formula contained in the sentence: ''But we don''t have to go to extremes!'' The extreme you have always struggled to avoid is the recognition that reality is final, that A is A and that the truth is true. A moral code impossible to practice, a code that demands imperfection or death, has taught you to dissolve all ideas in fog, to permit no firm definitions, to regard any concept as approximate and any rule of conduct as elastic, to hedge on any principle, to compromise on any value, to take the middle of any road. By extorting your acceptance of supernatural absolutes, it has forced you to reject the absolute of nature. By making moral judgments impossible, it has made you incapable of rational judgment. A code that forbids you to cast the first stone, has forbidden you to admit the identity of stones and to know when or if you''re being stoned.


    "The man who refuses to judge, who neither agrees nor disagrees, who declares that there are no absolutes and believes that he escapes responsibility, is the man responsible for all the blood that is now spilled in the world. Reality is an absolute, existence is an absolute, a speck of dust is an absolute and so is a human life. Whether you live or die is an absolute. Whether you have a piece of bread or not, is an absolute. Whether you eat your break or see it vanish into a looter''s stomach, is an absolute.


    "There are two sides to every issue: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil. The man who is wrong still retains some respect for truth, if only by accepting the responsibility of choice. But the man in the middle is the knave who blanks out the truth in order to pretend that no choice or values exist, who is willing to sit out the course of any battle, willing to cash in on the blood of the innocent or to crawl on his belly to the guilty, who dispenses justice by condemning both the robber and the robbed to jail, who shoves conflicts by ordering the thinker and the fool to meet each other halfway. In any compromise between food and poison, it is only death that can win. In any compromise between good and evil, it is only evil that can profit. In that transfusion of blood which drains the good to feed the evil, the compromiser is the transmitting rubber tube.


    "You, who are half-rational, half-coward, have been playing a con game with reality, but the victim you have conned is yourself. When men reduce their virtues to the approximate, then evil acquires the force of an absolute, when loyalty to an unyielding purpose is dropped by the virtuous, it''s picked up by scoundrels-and you get the indecent spectacle of a cringing, bargaining, traitorous good and a self-righteously uncompromising evil. As you surrendered to the mystics of muscle when they told you that ignorance consists of claiming knowledge, so now you surrender to them when they shriek that immorality consists of pronouncing moral judgment. When they yell that it is selfish to be certain that you are right, you hasten to assure them that you''re certain of nothing. When they shout that it''s immoral to stand on your convictions, you assure them that you have no convictions whatever. When the thugs of Europe''s People''s States snarl that you are guilty of intolerance, because you don''t treat your desire to live and their desire to kill you as a difference of opinion-you cringe and hasten to assure them that you are not intolerant of any horror. When some barefoot bum in some pesthole of Asia yells at you: How dare you be rich-you apologize and beg him to be patient and promise him you''ll give it all away.


    "You have reached the blind alley of the treason you committed when you agreed that you had no right to exist. Once, you believed it was ''only a compromise'': you conceded it was evil to live for yourself, but moral to live for the sake of your children. Then you conceded that it was selfish to live for your children, but moral to live for your community. Then you conceded that it was selfish to live for your community, but moral to live for your country. Now, you are letting this greatest of countries be devoured by any scum from any corner of the earth, while you concede that it is selfish to live for your country and that your moral duty is to live for the globe. A man who has no right to life, has no right to values and will not keep them.


    "At the end of your road of successive betrayals, stripped of weapons, of certainty, of honor, you commit your final act of treason and sign your petition of intellectual bankruptcy: while the muscle-mystics of the People''s States proclaim that they''re the champions of reason and science, you agree and hasten to proclaim that faith is your cardinal principle, that reason is on the side of your destroyers, but yours is the side of faith. To the struggling remnants of rational honesty in the twisted, bewildered minds of your children, you declare that you can offer no rational argument to support the ideas that created this country, that there is no rational justification for freedom, for property, for justice, for rights, that they rest on a mystical insight and can be accepted only on faith, that in reason and logic the enemy is right, but faith is superior to reason. You declare to your children that it is rational to loot, to torture, to enslave, to expropriate, to murder, but that they must resist the temptations of logic and stick to the discipline of remaining irrational-that skyscrapers, factories, radios, airplanes were the products of faith and mystic intuition, while famines, concentration camps, and firing squads are the products of a reasonable manner of existence-that the industrial revolution was the revolt of the men of faith against that era of reason and logic which is known as the Middle Ages. Simultaneously, in the same breath, to the same child, you declare that the looters who rule the People''s States will surpass this country in material production, since they are the representatives of science, but that it''s evil to be concerned with physical wealth and that one must renounce material prosperity-you declare that the looters'' ideal are noble, but they do not mean them, while you do; that your purpose in fighting the looters is only to accomplish their aims, which they cannot accomplish, but you can; and that the way to fight them is to beat them to it and give one''s wealth away. Then you wonder why your children join the People''s thugs or become half-crazed delinquents, you wonder why the looters'' conquests keep creeping closer to your doors-and you blame it on human stupidity, declaring that the masses are impervious to reason.


    "You blank out the open, public spectacle of the looters'' fight against the mind, and the fact that their bloodiest horrors are unleashed to punish the crime of thinking. You blank out the fact that most mystics of muscle started out as mystics of spirit, that they keep switching from one to the other, that the men you call materialists and spiritualists are only two halves of the same dissected human, forever seeking completion, but seeking it by swinging from the destruction of the flesh to the destruction of the soul and vice versa-that they keep running from your colleges to the slave pens of Europe to an open collapse into the mystic muck of India, seeking any refuge against reality, any form of escape from the mind.


    "You blank it out and cling to your hypocrisy of ''faith'' in order to blank out the knowledge that the looters have a stranglehold upon you, which consists of your moral code-that the looters are the final and consistent practitioners of the morality you''re half-obeying, half-evading-that they practice it the only way it can be practiced: by turning the earth into a sacrificial furnace-that your morality forbids you to oppose them in the only way they can be opposed: by refusing to become a sacrificial animal and proudly asserting your right to exist-that in order to fight them to the finish and with full rectitude, it is your morality that you have to reject.


    "You blank'' it out, because your self-esteem is tied to ''that mystic ''unselfishness'' which you''ve never possessed or practiced, but spent so many years pretending to possess that the thought of denouncing it fills you with terror. No value is higher than self-esteem, but you''ve invested it in counterfeit securities-and now your morality has caught you in a trap where you are forced to protect your self-esteem by fighting for the creed of self-destruction. The grim joke is on you: that need of self-esteem, which you''re unable to explain or to define, belongs to my morality, not yours; it''s the objective token of my code, it is my proof within your own soul.


    "By a feeling he has not learned to identify, but has derived from his first awareness of existence, from his discovery that he has to make choices, man knows that his desperate need of self-esteem is a matter of life or death. As a being of volitional consciousness, he knows that he must know his own value in order to maintain his own life. He knows that he has to be right; to be wrong in action means danger to his life; to be wrong in person, to be evil, means to be unfit for existence.


    "Every act of man''s life has to be willed; the mere act of obtaining or eating his food implies that the person he preserves is worthy of being preserved; every pleasure he seeks to enjoy implies that the person who seeks it is worthy of finding enjoyment. He has no choice about his need of self-esteem, his only choice is the standard by which to gauge it. And he makes his fatal error when he switches this gauge protecting his life into the service of his own destruction, when he chooses a standard contradicting existence and sets his self-esteem against reality.


    "Every form of causeless self-doubt, every feeling of inferiority and secret unworthiness is, in fact, man''s hidden dread of his inability to deal with existence. But the greater his terror, the more fiercely he clings to the murderous doctrines that choke him. No man can survive the moment of pronouncing himself irredeemably evil; should he do it, his next moment is insanity or suicide. To escape it-if he''s chosen an irrational Standard-he will fake, evade, blank out; he will cheat himself of reality, of existence, of happiness, of mind; and he will ultimately cheat himself of self-esteem by struggling to preserve its illusion rather than to risk discovering its lack. To fear to face an issue is to believe that the worst is true.


    "It is not any crime you have committed that infects your soul with permanent guilt, it is none of your failures, errors or flaws, but theblank-out by which you attempt to evade them-it is not any sort of Original Sin or unknown prenatal deficiency, but the knowledge and fact of your basic default, of suspending your mind, of refusing to think. Fear and guilt are your chronic emotions, they are real and you do deserve them, but they don''t come from the superficial reasons you invent to disguise their cause, not from your ''selfishness,'' weakness or ignorance, but from a real and basic threat to your existence; fear, because you have abandoned your weapon of survival, guilt, because you know you have done it volitionally.


    "The self you have betrayed is your mind; self-esteem is reliance on one''s power to think. The ego you seek, that essential ''you'' which you cannot express or define, is not your emotions or inarticulate dreams, but your intellect, that judge of your supreme tribunal whom you''ve impeached in order to drift at the mercy of any stray shyster you describe as your ''feeling.'' Then you drag yourself through a self-made night, in a desperate quest for a nameless fire, moved by some fading vision of a dawn you had seen and lost.


    "Observe the persistence, in mankind''s mythologies, of the legend about a paradise that men had once possessed, the city of Atlantis or the Garden of Eden or some kingdom of perfection, always behind us. The root of that legend exists, not in the past of the race, but in the past of every man. You still retain a sense-not as firm as a memory, but diffused like the pain of hopeless longing-that somewhere in the starting years of your childhood, before you had learned to submit, to absorb the terror of unreason and to doubt the value of your mind, you had known a radiant state of existence, you had known the independence of a rational consciousness facing an open universe. That is the paradise which you have lost, which you seek-which is yours for the taking.


    "Some of you will never know who is John Galt. But those of you who have known a single moment of love for existence and of pride in being its worthy lover, a moment of looking at this earth and letting your glance be its sanction, have known the state of being a man, and I-I am only the man who knew that that state is not to be betrayed. I am the man who knew what made it possible and who chose consistently to practice and to be what you had practiced and been in that one moment.


    "That choice is yours to make. That choice-the dedication to one''s highest potential-is made by accepting the fact that the noblest act you have ever performed is the act of your mind in the process of grasping that two and two make four.


    "Whoever you are-you who are alone with my words in this moment, with nothing but your honesty to help you understand-the choice is still open to be a human being, but the price is to start from scratch, to stand naked in the face of reality and, reversing a costly historical error, to declare: ''I am, therefore I''ll think.''


    "Accept the irrevocable fact that your life depends upon your mind. Admit that the whole of your struggle, your doubts, your fakes, your evasions, was a desperate quest for escape from the responsibility of a volitional consciousness-a quest for automatic knowledge, for instinctive action, for intuitive certainty-and while you called it a longing for the state of an angel, what you were seeking was the state of an animal. Accept, as your moral ideal, the task of becoming a man.


    "Do not say that you''re afraid to trust your mind because you know so little. Are you safer in surrendering to mystics and discarding the little that you know? Live and act within the limit of your knowledge and keep expanding it to the limit of your life. Redeem your mind from the hockshops of authority. Accept the fact that you are not omniscient, but playing a zombie will not give you omniscience-that your mind is fallible, but becoming mindless will not make you infallible-that an error made on your own is safer than ten truths accepted on faith, because the first leaves you the means to correct it, but the second destroys your capacity to distinguish truth from error. In place of your dream of an omniscient automation, accept the fact that any knowledge man acquires is acquired by his own will and effort, and that that is his distinction in the universe, that is his nature, his morality, his glory.


    "Discard that unlimited license to evil which consists of claiming that man is imperfect. By what standard do you damn him when you claim it? Accept the fact that in the realm of morality nothing less than perfection will do. But perfection is not to be gauged by mystic commandments to practice the impossible, and your moral stature is not to be gauged by matters not open to your choice. Man has a single basic choice: to think or not, and that is the gauge of his virtue. Moral perfection is an unbreached rationality-not the degree of your intelligence, but the full and relentless use of your mind, not the extent of your knowledge, but the acceptance of reason as an absolute.


    "Learn to distinguish the difference between errors of knowledge and breaches of morality. An error of knowledge is not a moral flaw, provided you are willing to correct it; only a mystic would judge human beings by the standard of an impossible, automatic omniscience. But a breach of morality is the conscious choice of an action you know to be evil, or a willful evasion of knowledge, a suspension of sight and of thought. That which you do not know, is not a moral charge against you; but that which you refuse to know, is an account of infamy growing in your soul. Make every allowance for errors of knowledge; do not forgive or accept any breach of morality. Give the benefit of the doubt to those who seek to know; but treat as potential killers those specimens of insolent depravity who make demands upon you, announcing that they have and seek no reasons, proclaiming, as a license, that they ''just feel it''-or those who reject an irrefutable argument by saying: ''It''s only logic,'' which means: ''It''s only reality.'' The only realm opposed to reality is the realm and premise of death.


    "Accept the fact that the achievement of your happiness is the only moral purpose of your life, and that happiness-not pain or mindless self-indulgence-is the proof of your moral integrity, since it is the proof and the result of your loyalty to the achievement of your values. Happiness was the responsibility you dreaded, it required the kind of rational discipline you did not value yourself enough to assume-and the anxious staleness of your day is the monument to your evasion of the knowledge that there is no moral substitute for happiness, that there is no more despicable coward than the man who deserted the battle for his joy, fearing to assert his right to existence, lacking the courage and the loyalty to life of a bird or a flower reaching for the sun. Discard the protective rags of that vice which you called a virtue: humility-learn to value yourself, which means: to fight for your happiness-and when you learn that pride is the sum of all virtues, you will learn to live like a man.


    "As a basic step of self-esteem, learn to treat as the mark of a cannibal any man''s demand for your help. To demand it is to claim that your life is his property-and loathsome as such claim might be, there''s something still more loathsome: your agreement. Do you ask if it''s ever proper to help another man? No-if he claims it as his right or as a moral duty that you owe him. Yes-if such is your own desire based on your own selfish pleasure in the value of his person and his struggle. Suffering as such is not a value; only man''s fight against suffering, is. If you choose to help a man who suffers, do it only on the ground of his virtues, of his right to recover, of his rational record, or of the fact that he suffers unjustly; then your action is still a trade, and his virtue is the payment for your help. Be to help a man who has no virtues, to help him on the ground of his suffering as such, to accept his faults, his need, as a claim-is to accept the mortgage of a zero on your values. A man who has no virtues is a hater of existence who acts on the premise of death; to help him is to sanction his evil and to support his career of destruction. Be it only a penny you will not miss or a kindly smile he has not earned, a tribute to a zero is treason to life and to all those who struggle to maintain it. It is of such pennies and smiles that the desolation of your world was made.


    "Do not say that my morality is too hard for you to practice and that you fear it as you fear the unknown. Whatever living moments you have known, were lived by the values of my code. But you stifled, negated, betrayed it. You kept sacrificing your virtues to your vices, and the best among men to the worst. Look around you: what you have done to society, you have done it first within your soul; one is the image of the other. This dismal wreckage, which is now your world, is the physical form of the treason you committed to your values, to your friends, to your defenders, to your future, to your country, to yourself.


    "We-whom you are now calling, but who will not answer any longer-we have lived among you, but you failed to know us, you refused to think and to see what we were. You failed to recognize the motor I invented-and it became, in your world, a pile of dead scrap. You failed to recognize the hero in your soul-and you failed to know me when I passed you in the street. When you cried in despair for the unattainable spirit which you felt had deserted your world, you gave it my name, but what you were calling was your own betrayed self-esteem. You will not recover one without the other.


    "When you failed to give recognition to man''s mind and attempted to rule human beings by force-those who submitted had no mind to surrender; those who had, were men who don''t submit. Thus the man of productive genius assumed in your world the disguise of a playboy and became a destroyer of wealth, choosing to annihilate his fortune rather than surrender it to guns. Thus the thinker, the man of reason, assumed in your world the role of a pirate, to defend his values by force against your force, rather than submit to the rule of brutality. Do you hear me, Francisco d''Anconia and Ragnar Danneskjold, my first friends, my fellow fighters, my fellow outcasts, in whose name and honor I speak?


    "It was the three of us who started what I am now completing. It was the three of us who resolved to avenge this country and to release its imprisoned soul. This greatest of countries was built on my morality-on the inviolate supremacy of man''s right to exist-but you dreaded to admit it and live up to it. You stared at an achievement unequaled in history, and looted its effects and blanked out its cause. In the presence of that monument to human morality, which is a factory, a highway or a bridge-you kept damning this country as immoral and its progress as ''material greed,'' you kept offering apologies for this country''s greatness to the idol of primordial starvation, to decaying Europe''s idol of a leprous, mystic bum.


    "This country-the product of reason-could not survive on the morality of sacrifice. It was not built by men who sought self-immolation or by men who sought handouts. It could not stand on the mystic split that divorced man''s soul from his body. It could not live by the mystic doctrine that damned this earth as evil and those who succeeded on earth as depraved. From its start, this country was a threat to the ancient rule of mystics. In the brilliant rocket-explosion of its youth, this country displayed to an incredulous world what greatness was possible to man, what happiness was possible on earth. It was one or the other: America or mystics. The mystics knew it; you didn''t. You let them infect you with the worship of need-and this country became a giant in body with a mooching midget in place of its soul, while its living soul was driven underground to labor and feed you in silence, unnamed, unhonored, negated, its soul and hero: the industrialist. Do you hear me now, Hank Rearden, the greatest of the victims I have avenged?


    "Neither he nor the rest of us will return until the road is clear to rebuild this country-until the wreckage of the morality of sacrifice has been wiped out of our way. A country''s political system is based on its code of morality. We will rebuild America''s system on the moral premise which had been its foundation, but which you treated as a guilty underground, in your frantic evasion of the conflict between that premise and your mystic morality: the premise that man is an end in himself, not the means to the ends of others, that man''s life, his freedom, his happiness are his by inalienable right.


    "You who''ve lost the concept of a right, you who swing in impotent evasiveness between the claim that rights are a gift of God, a supernatural gift to be taken on faith, or the claim that rights are a gift of society, to be broken at its arbitrary whim-the source of man''s rights is not divine law or congressional law, but the law of identity. A is A-and Man is Man. Rights are conditions of existence required by man''s nature for his proper survival. If man is to live on earth, it is right for him to use his mind, his right to act on his own free judgment, it is right to work for his values and to keep the product of his work. If life on earth is his purpose, he has a right to live as a rational being: nature forbids him the irrational. Any group, any gang, any nation that attempts to negate man''s rights, is wrong, which means: is evil, which means: is anti-life.


    "Rights are a moral concept-and morality is a matter of choice. Men are free not to choose man''s survival as the standard of their morals and their laws, but not free to escape from the fact that the alternative is a cannibal society, which exists for a while by devouring its best and collapses like a cancerous body, when the healthy have been eaten by the diseased, when the rational have been consumed by the irrational. Such has been the fate of your societies in history, but you''ve evaded the knowledge of the cause. I am here to state it: the agent of retribution was the law of identity, which you cannot escape. Just as man cannot live by means of the irrational, so two men cannot, or two thousand, or two billion. Just as man can''t succeed by defying reality, so a nation can''t, or a country, or a globe. A is A. The rest is a matter of time, provided by the generosity of victims.


    "Just as man can''t exist without his body, so no rights can exist without the right to translate one''s rights into reality-to think, to work and to keep the results-which means: the right of poverty. The modern mystics of muscle who offer you the fraudulent alternative of ''human rights'' versus ''property rights,'' as if one could exist without the other, are making a last, grotesque attempt to revive the doctrine of soul versus body. Only a ghost can exist without material property; only a slave can work with no right to the product of his effort. The doctrine that ''human rights'' are superior to ''property rights'' simply means that some human beings have the right to make property out of others; since the competent have nothing to gain from the incompetent, it means the right of the incompetent to own their betters and to use them as productive cattle. Whoever regards this as human and right, has no right to the title of ''human.''


    "The source of property rights is the law of causality. All property and all forms of wealth are produced by man''s mind and labor. As you cannot have effects without causes, so you cannot have wealth without its source: without intelligence. You cannot force intelligence to work: those who''re able to think, will not work under compulsion: those who will, won''t produce much more than the price of the whip needed to keep them enslaved. You cannot obtain the products of a mind except on the owner''s terms, by trade and by volitional consent. Any other policy of men toward man''s poverty is the policy of criminals, no matter what their numbers. Criminals are savages who play in short-range and starve when their prey runs out-just as you''re starving today, you who believed that crime could be ''practical'' if your government decreed that robbery was legal and resistance to robbery illegal.


    "The only proper purpose of a government is to protect man''s rights, which means: to protect him from physical violence. A proper government is only a policeman, acting as an agent of man''s self-defense, and, as such, may resort to force only against those who start the use of force. The only proper functions of a government are: the police, to protect you from criminals; the army, to protect you from foreign invaders; and the courts, to protect your property and contracts from breach or fraud by others, to settle disputes by rational rules, according to objective law. But a government that initiates the employment of force against men who had forced no one, the employment of armed compulsion against disarmed victims, is a nightmare infernal machine designed to annihilate morality: such a government reverses its only moral purpose and switches from the role of protector to the role of man''s deadliest enemy, from the role of policeman to the role of a criminal vested with the right to the wielding of violence against victims deprived of the right of self-defense. Such a government substitutes for morality the following rule of social conduct: you may do whatever you please to your neighbor, provided your gang is bigger than his.


    "Only a brute, a fool or an evader can agree to exist on such terms or agree to give his fellow men a blank check on his life and his mind, to accept the belief that others have the right to dispose of his person at their whim, that the will of the majority is Omnipotent, that the physical force of muscles and numbers is a substitute for justice, reality and truth. We, the men of the mind, we who are traders, not masters or slaves, do not deal in blank checks or grant them. We do not live or work with any form of the non-objective.


    "So long as men, in the era of savagery, had no concept of objective reality and believed that physical nature was ruled by the whim of unknowable demons-no thought, no science, no production were possible. Only when men discovered that nature was a firm, predictable absolute were they able to rely on their knowledge, to choose their course, to plan their future and, slowly, to rise from the cave. Now you have placed modern industry, with its immense complexity of scientific precision, back into the power of unknowable demons-the unpredictable power of the arbitrary whims of hidden, ugly little bureaucrats. A farmer will not invest the effort of one summer if he''s unable to calculate his chances of a harvest. But you expect industrial giants-who plan in terms of decades, invest in terms of generations and undertake ninety-nine-year contracts-to continue to function and produce, not knowing what random caprice in the skull of what random official will descend upon them at what moment to demolish the whole of their effort. Drifters and physical laborers live and plan by the range of a day. The better the mind, the longer the range. A man whose vision extends to a shanty, might continue to build on your quicksands, to grab a fast profit and run. A man who envisions skyscrapers, will not. Nor will he give ten years of unswerving devotion to the task of inventing a new product, when he knows the gangs of entrenched mediocrity are juggling the laws against him, to tie him, restrict him and force him to fail, but should he fight them and struggle and succeed, they will seize his rewards and his invention.


    "Look past the range of the moment, you who cry that you fear to compete with men of superior intelligence, that their mind is a threat to your livelihood, that the strong leave no chance to the weak in a market of voluntary trade. What determines the material value of your work? Nothing but the productive effort of your mind-if you lived on a desert island. The less efficient the thinking of your brain, the less your physical labor would bring you-and you could spend your life on a single routine, collecting a precarious harvest or hunting with bow and arrows, unable to think any further. But when you live in a rational society, where men are free to trade, you receive an incalculable bonus: the material value of your work is determined not only by your effort, but by the effort of the best productive minds who exist in the world around you.


    "When you work in a modern factory, you are paid, not only for your labor, but for all the productive genius which has made that factory possible: for the work of the industrialist who built it, for the work of the investor who saved the money to risk on the untried and the new, for the work of the engineer who designed the machines of which you are pushing the levers, for the work of the inventor who created the product which you spend your time on making, for the work of the scientist who discovered the laws that went into the making of that product, for the work of the philosopher who taught men how to think and whom your spend your time denouncing.


    "The machine, the frozen form of a living intelligence, is the power that expands the potential of your life by raising the productivity of your time. If you worked as a blacksmith in the mystics'' Middle Ages, the whole of your earning capacity would consist of an iron bar produced by your hands in days and days of effort. How many tons of rail do you produce per day if you work for Hank Rearden? Would you dare to claim that the size of your pay cheek was created solely by your physical labor and that those rails were the product of your muscles? The standard of living of that blacksmith is all that your muscles are worth; the rest is a gift from Hank Rearden.


    "Every man is free to rise as far as he''s able or willing, but it''s only the degree to which he thinks that determines the degree to which he''ll rise. Physical labor as such can extend no further than the range of the moment. The man who does no more than physical labor, consumes the material value-equivalent of his own contribution to the process of production, and leaves no further value, neither for himself nor others. But the man who produces an idea in any field of rational endeavor-the man who discovers new knowledge-is the permanent benefactor of humanity. Material products can''t be shared, they belong to some ultimate consumer; it Is only the value of an idea that can be shared with unlimited numbers of men, making all sharers richer at no one''s sacrifice or loss, raising the productive capacity of whatever labor they perform. It is the value of his own time that the strong of the intellect transfers to the weak, letting them work on the jobs he discovered, while devoting his time to further discoveries. This is mutual trade to mutual advantage; the interests of the mind are one, no matter what the degree of intelligence, among men who desire to work and don''t seek or expect the unearned.


    "In proportion to the mental energy he spent, the man who creates a new invention receives but a small percentage of his value in terms of material payment, no matter what fortune he makes, no matter what millions he earns. But the man who works as a janitor in the factory producing that invention, receives an enormous payment in proportion to the mental effort that his job requires of him. And the same is true of all men between, on all levels of ambition and ability. The man at the top of the intellectual pyramid contributes the most to all those below him, but gets nothing except his material payment, receiving no intellectual bonus from others to add to the value of his time. The man at the bottom who, left to himself, would starve in his hopeless ineptitude, contributes nothing to those above him, but receives the bonus of all of their brains. Such is the nature of the ''competition'' between the strong and the weak of the intellect. Such is the pattern of ''exploitation'' for which you have damned the strong.


    "Such was the service we had given you and were glad and willing to give. What did we ask in return? Nothing but freedom. We required that you leave us free to function-free to think and to work as we choose-free to take our own risks and to bear our own losses-free to earn our own profits and to make our own fortunes-free to gamble on your rationality, to submit our products to your judgment for the purpose of a voluntary trade, to rely on the objective value of our work and on your mind''s ability to see it-free to count on your intelligence and honesty, and to deal with nothing but your mind. Such was the price we asked, which you chose to reject as too high. You decided to call it unfair that we, who had dragged you out of your hovels and provided you with modern apartments, with radios, movies and cars, should own our palaces and yachts-you decided that you had a right to your wages, but we had no right to our profits, that you did not want us to deal with your mind, but to deal, instead, with your gun. Our answer to that, was: ''May you be damned!'' Our answer came true. You are.


    "You did not care to compete in terms of intelligence-you are now competing in terms of brutality. You did not care to allow rewards to be won by successful production-you are now running a race in which rewards are won by successful plunder. You called it selfish and cruel that men should trade value for value-you have now established an unselfish society where they trade extortion for extortion. Your system is a legal civil war, where men gang up on one another and struggle for possession of the law, which they use as a club over rivals, till another gang wrests it from their clutch and clubs them with it in their turn, all of them clamoring protestations of service to an unnamed public''s unspecified good. You had said that you saw no difference between economic and political power, between the power of money and the power of guns-no difference between reward and punishment, no difference between purchase and plunder, no difference between pleasure and fear, no difference between life and death. You are learning the difference now.


    "Some of you might plead the excuse of your ignorance, of a limited mind and a limited range. But the damned and the guiltiest among you are the men who had the capacity to know, yet chose to blank out reality, the men who were willing to steel their intelligence into cynical servitude to force: the contemptible breed of those mystics of science who profess a devotion to some sort of ''pure knowledge''-the purity consisting of their claim that such knowledge has no practical purpose on this earth-who reserve their logic for inanimate matter, but believe that the subject of dealing with men requires and deserves no rationality, who scorn money and sell their souls in exchange for a laboratory supplied by loot. And since there is no such thing as ''non-practical knowledge'' or any sort of ''disinterested'' action, since they scorn the use of their science for the purpose and profit of life, they deliver their science to the service of death, to the only practical purpose it can ever have for looters: to inventing weapons of coercion and destruction. They, the intellects who seek escape from moral values, they are the damned on their earth, theirs is the guilt beyond forgiveness. Do you hear me, Dr. Robert Stadler?


    "But it is not to him that I wish to speak. I am speaking to those among you who have retained some sovereign shred of their soul, unsold and unstamped: ''-to the order of others.'' If, in the chaos of the motives that have made you listen to the radio tonight, there was an honest, rational desire to learn what is wrong with the world, you are the man whom I wished to address. By the rules and terms of my code, one owes a rational statement to those whom it does concern and who''re making an effort to know. Those who''re making an effort to fall to understand me, are not a concern of mine.


    "I am speaking to those who desire to live and to recapture the honor of their soul. Now that you know the truth about your world stop supporting your own destroyers. The evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction to give it. Withdraw your sanction. Withdraw your support. Do not try to live on your enemies'' terms or to win at a game where they''re setting the rules. Do not seek the favor of those who enslaved you, do not beg for alms from those who have robbed you, be it subsidies, loans or jobs, do not join their team to recoup what they''ve taken by helping them rob your neighbors. One cannot hope to maintain one''s life by accepting bribes to condone one''s destruction. Do not straggle for profit, success or security at the price of a lien on your right to exist. Such a lien is not to be paid off; the more you pay them, the more they will demand; the greater the values you seek or achieve, the more vulnerably helpless you become. Theirs is a system of white blackmail devised to bleed you, not by means of your sins, but by means of your love for existence.


    "Do not attempt to rise on the looters'' terms or to climb a ladder while they''re holding the ropes. Do not allow their hands to touch the only power that keeps them in power: your living ambition. Go on strike-in the manner I did. Use your mind and skill in private, extend your knowledge, develop your ability, but do not share your achievements with others. Do not try to produce a fortune, with a looter riding on your back. Stay on the lowest rung of their ladder, earn no more than your barest survival, do not make an extra penny to support the looters'' state. Since you''re captive, act as a captive, do not help them pretend that you''re free. Be the silent, incorruptible enemy they dread. When they force you, obey-but do not volunteer. Never volunteer a step in their direction, or a wish, or a plea, or a purpose. Do not help a holdup man to claim that he acts as your friend and benefactor. Do not help your jailers to pretend that their jail is your natural state of existence. Do not help them to fake reality. That fake is the only dam holding off their secret terror, the terror of knowing they''re unfit to exist; remove it and let them drown; your sanction is their only life belt.


    "If you find a chance to vanish into some wilderness out of their reach, do so, but not to exist as a bandit or to create a gang competing with their racket; build a productive life of your own with those who accept your moral code and are willing to struggle for a human existence. You have no chance to win on the Morality of Death or by the code of faith and force; raise a standard to which the honest will repair: the standard of Life and Reason.


    "Act as a rational being and aim at becoming a rallying point for all those who are starved for a voice of integrity-act on your rational values, whether alone in the midst of your enemies, or with a few of your chosen friends, or as the founder of a modest community on the frontier of mankind''s rebirth.


    "When the looters'' state collapses, deprived of the best of its slaves, when it falls to a level of impotent chaos, like the mystic-ridden nations of the Orient, and dissolves into starving robber gangs fighting to rob one another-when the advocates of the morality of sacrifice perish with their final ideal-then and on that day we will return.


    "We will open the gates of our city to those who deserve to enter, a city of smokestacks, pipe lines, orchards, markets and inviolate homes. We will act as the rallying center for such hidden outposts as you''ll build. With the sign of the dollar as our symbol-the sign of free trade and free minds-we will move to reclaim this country once more from the impotent savages who never discovered its nature, its meaning, its splendor. Those who choose to join us, will join us; those who don''t, will not have the power to stop us; hordes of savages have never been an obstacle to men who carried the banner of the mind.


    "Then this country will once more become a sanctuary for a vanishing species: the rational being. The political system we will build is contained in a single moral premise: no man may obtain any values from others by resorting to physical force. Every man will stand or fall, live or die by his rational judgment. If he fails to use it and falls, he will be his only victim. If he fears that his judgment is inadequate, he will not be given a gun to improve it. If he chooses to correct his errors in time, he will have the unobstructed example of his betters, for guidance in learning to think; but an end will be put to the infamy of paying with one life for the errors of another.


    "In that world, you''ll be able to rise in the morning with the spirit you have known in your childhood: that spirit of eagerness, adventure and certainty which comes from dealing with a rational universe. No child is afraid of nature; it is your fear of men that will vanish, the fear that has stunted your soul, the fear you acquired in your early encounters with the incomprehensible, the unpredictable, the contradictory, the arbitrary, the hidden, the faked, the irrational in men. You will live in a world of responsible beings, who will be as consistent and reliable as facts; the guarantee of their character will be a system of existence where objective reality is the standard of the judge. Your virtues will be given protection, your vices and weaknesses will not. Every chance will be open to your good, none will be provided for your evil. What you''ll receive from men will not be alms, or pity, or mercy, or forgiveness of sins, but a single value: justice. And when you''ll look at men or at yourself, you will feel, not disgust, suspicion and guilt, but a single constant: respect.


    "Such is the future you are capable of winning. It requires a struggle; so does any human value. All life is a purposeful struggle, and your only choice is the choice of a goal. Do you wish to continue the battle of your present or do you wish to fight for my world? Do you wish to continue a struggle that consists of clinging to precarious ledges in a sliding descent to the abyss, a struggle where the hardships you endure are irreversible and the victories you win bring you closer to destruction? Or do you wish to undertake a struggle that consists of rising from ledge to ledge in a steady ascent to the top, a struggle where the hardships are investments in your future, and the victories bring you irreversibly closer to the world of your moral ideal, and should you die without reaching full sunlight, you will die on a level touched by its rays? Such is the choice before you. Let your mind and your love of existence decide.


    "The last of my words will be addressed to those heroes who might still be hidden in the world, those who are held prisoner, not by their evasions, but by their virtues and their desperate courage. My brothers in spirit, check on your virtues and on the nature of the enemies you''re serving. Your destroyers hold you by means of your endurance, your generosity, your innocence, your love-the endurance that carries their burdens-the generosity that responds to their cries of despair-the innocence that is unable to conceive of their evil and gives them the benefit of every doubt, refusing to condemn them without understanding and incapable of understanding such motives as theirs-the love, your love of life, which makes you believe that they are men and that they love it, too. But the world of today is the world they wanted; life is the object of their hatred. Leave them to the death they worship. In the name of your magnificent devotion to this earth, leave them, don''t exhaust the greatness of your soul on achieving the triumph of the evil of theirs. Do you hear me ... my love?


    "In the name of the best within you, do not sacrifice this word to those who are its worst. In the name of the values that keep you alive, do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly, the cowardly, the mindless in those who have never achieved his title. Do not lose your knowledge that man''s proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads. Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it''s yours.


    "But to win it requires your total dedication and a total break with the world of your past, with the doctrine that man is a sacrificial animal who exists for the pleasure of others. Fight for the value of your person. Fight for the virtue of your pride. Fight for the essence of that which is man: for his sovereign rational mind. Fight with the radiant certainty and the absolute rectitude of knowing that yours is the Morality of Life and that yours is the battle for any achievement, any value, any grandeur, any goodness, any joy that has ever existed on this earth.


    "You will win when you are ready to pronounce the oath I have taken at the start of my battle-and for those who wish to know the day of my return, I shall now repeat it to the hearing of the world:


    "I swear-by my life and my love of it-that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine."