《Incarnations of War》


 Prologue

    ¡°The city of Rosvero, a booming trade city in the Kantor Republic, began as a small village at the Republic¡¯s border. Some time after, following an important astrological event, a fort was established near it, and the beginnings of the city as the current residents know it now, grew around it. The origins and the importance of the fortress itself is lost in the flow of time, and to this day there are theories about the true mission about the existence of the fort.


    There are rumors, too, about the commander to the local garrison, as well as the fort. Visiting military personnel have always noted that the fortress, called the Black Fortress, is not designed to repel invaders, but rather shaped like that it is containing something. Whatever that something is, if the size of the fortress is any indication, it is either very large, or very powerful. Such rumors also surrounds the commanders. Each commander had either been a magic-user of some note, or an experienced commander of a large military force beforehand. It is also noted by this author that soldiers are often being rotated out of the fortress regularly, and those stationed there have said that they were only allowed in the outermost layers of it, and only the commander has access to the inner rooms.


    Various spokespersons in the past have, of course, stated that the sole purpose of the fortress is to provide protection for the city, but scholars have disputed this claim, the fortress itself dates well before the existence of much of the city.


    It also to be noted that the majority of sch claims are purely speculation, and should not be taken into account when using this document as a base for research.


    Despite these widespread rumours, the presence of the fortress also encouraged trade from neighbouring countries of Imperial-Union of Ming as well as the Independent Trade States, and the local population has also come to reflect this, with a mix of different races living with each other within the city.¡±


    The sound of dry nib scratching on paper paused, and the scribe looked up from his work only to shake his cramping hand and refill the quill, before looking down at the masses of documents that he had yet to copy. The light of the sole lamp barely covered the entire tabletop, but the flickering candlelight from the street provided enough illumination to illustrate a sparsely decorated room, the only other furniture other than than the table and chair being a large shelf, where sheets of documents, both completed and incomplete, lied in neat, sorted piles awaiting either further work, or client pick-up.


    The scribe paused in his scribbling and frowned. Was that a tremor? He wondered, and then dismissed the thought as the more pressing matter of his work drove him on. He paused again, the quill lifted above the paper. That was definitely a tremor. He sighed, as he felt more distinct tremors. He cursed the inopportune timing of shaking, and the increasing frequency of such occurrences lately, as he screwed the lid of the ink pot shut to prevent any spillage onto his precious documents.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    A particularly large shudder jolted his ink pot a few centimetres off to the side. The scribe placed it gently on the floor, where there was no chance of it shattering. He then gathered up the rest of his writing implements and was placing them back on the shelf when the ground beneath his feet jolted, and caused him to stumble into the wall. The ground then stilled. A few minutes of respite, and then-


    -his lamp slid off the table and smashed itself against the ground, his table was flung up several inches and hit the ground with a large thud. The scribe himself was thrown into the air, and experienced a period of weightlessness before gravity took hold and he landed on the floor. Hard.


    The timber of the building above him groaned alarmingly, as smaller aftershocks continued to throw him off balance. The scribe, battered and bruised, staggered out of the dim cellar that served as his work space onto the street, where many others were doing so. He had just turned to identify the source of the shakes-the black fortress-when the final, catastrophic quake came.


    The people staggering on the street were flung into the air, away from the fortress. Carts parked on the street overturned and rolled, as the ground beneath them behaved in motions not unlike waves. The scribe picked himself up off the ground and looked around. The city was in ruins. The historical buildings at the very centre had fallen into disrepair, and the last tremor-no, quake-has caused many to lose part of a wall, or a roof. The newer buildings fared worse. Being a large trade city, the majority of these buildings were 3 or more floors high, and the sub-standard timber, never meant for buildings, let alone ones with multiple floors, had broke in an instant. Many of the city¡¯s residents were outside, having ran out after the first major tremor, but most simply dismissed it as a routine thing, climbed back into their beds and slept. Of these, few survived.


    The worst affected building was the fortress. Its tall towers, once standing majestically, no longer defied gravity. The main structure, standing firm for many generations, collapsed in on itself, leaving only the remnants of its outer walls. Soldiers scrambled over the debris like ants, searching for fallen comrades, still trapped in their beds.


    The commander however, stood at the very edge of a circle of light that illuminated the city better than lamps and candles ever can. Along with him stood 9 other figures, spaced evenly around the circle. Inside the circle, a kneeling figure could be seen, straining to stand up, as if the light had taken on mass and was actively trying to stop him from moving. Even from over 2 kilometres away, one could see that the commander and the 9 mysterious figures were desperate about maintaining the circle.


    The figure in the centre gave a great cry that echoed through the city, and collapsed. The commander, having only managed to maintain the circle through the force of will, collapsed with him. The nine drooped, picked up the body of the figure and the commander, before making a hasty exit through a rectangular section of golden light that had suddenly appeared.


    The fortress was soon repaired, larger than before.

 Part 1-An end, and a beginning

    This is gonna be a divider to separate the different parts. Also, please leave some feedback or reviews for me either here or on my wordpress page. Thanks!


    Really? 500 character minimum limit? My cat is very much annoyed.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    My cat is very much annoyed.


    My cat is very much annoyed.


    Still not there? Fine, here''s a random quote:


    If you keep staring into an abyss, the abyss will stare back at you. ~someone I knew


    *Waves cheerily at the abyss* ~me

 Chapter 1

    The grimy streets of the city shuddered and shook. I looked out of the dirty window of the shop that I was minding and sighed. The streets will soon be filled with panicking people visiting the city for the first time, yelling at the top of their voices wondering what had happened. The tremors subsided for a time, generations ago after the Great Earthquake that destroyed most of the city and caused hundreds of thousands of deaths. Since then, the buildings that survived has been fortified with more timbers, and new buildings had to conform to a strict building code.


    Many in the city had thought that it had been caused by the relative closeness of of the dam that supplied water to the close to half-million inhabitants of the city, as well as the other dams supplying fresh water of the mirroring cities on the other side of the borders.


    Others thought that more sinister events were the cause, but I dismisses most of them as pure fantasy.


    Most. But not all. There are some that does have credits to them, such as the theory about it having been caused by a powerful magic-user, or the one about having been caused by a powerful entity imprisoned inside the Black Fortress.


    I looked down and continued reading


    ¡°¡­a scribe witnessing the earthquake described the commander of the fortress and 9 mysterious figures standing around a circle of unimaginable power, keeping a sole figure inside. This account has been verified by others,  although the presence of the figure is often disputed.


    Supporters of this theory are often quick to point out that the tremors resumed after the presence of a second prisoner, brought in not long after the fortress was rebuilt following its destruction¡­¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I shut the book with a thud and glanced outside again. The faintest whisper of a shout had drifted into the currently vacant bookshop. It wouldn¡¯t be long until full fledged panic occurs, after people finished picking themselves off the ground and take stock of their belongings. Especially at this time of the night where everyone had been drinking. Once again, the usual questions were being asked; what happened, does this usually happen, etc.


    Making sure that the shop was still completely empty, I went back to my book.


    It¡¯s not my book per se, but one of the advantages of working in a book shop is that you have access to most of the books, provided that you don¡¯t damage them. The Manager, as he is known, is rarely seen, and I¡¯ve only ever seen him once, and that was with a mask on. In comparison to other shop owners, he gives me almost the free run of the shop. There are only 2 things that I am not allowed to touch. The books on the history of the shop, as well as a black case in the back room. I¡¯ve been told in the past that as long as I keep the shop well maintained, and never touch these two things, I could do whatever I liked. I always followed these rules.


    People who crosses the Manager don¡¯t tend to live very long.


    A sudden leaping motion jolted me out of my reverie. An aftershock, they should be fine, as long as they don¡¯t coalescence to something more. I hurriedly placed the book I was reading back onto the bookcase, and lashed the doors of each case together with rope. Thisway, there¡¯s no chance of them sliding out of the cases and making a pile on the floor. That done, I filed away everything on the desk. The procedure in such cases is simple, vacate the property as soon as possible. Given that the shop is located in one of the city¡¯s oldest districts, I thought that it was a fair bet to leave.Hurrying out of the shop, I shutted and locked the door behind me, and although vandals and thieves do not tend to rob places while a tremor is happening, it¡¯s better to be safe than sorry.


    Another shock. This one stronger now. The streets are starting to fill up with people stumbling from doorways and a deep rumbling started to fill the city. Uncertainly, I glanced from face to face, trying to pick out familiar ones that I might rely on to tell me what is going on. There were non.


    The sky lit up like it was day.

 Chapter 2

    ¡°The trade city of Rosvero has grown several times over the years, but the main layout remained the same; 4 main streets radiating away from the Black Fortress, with numerous lesser streets encircling it. Somewhat more recent, and slimmer streets have also been constructed on midpoints of a compass bearing. The design, viewed from above, looks circles overlaying a compass.¡±


    -A brief history of trade cities


    People all around me tensed, ready for another rolling motion to hit.


    Nothing happened.


    I staggered to the edge of East Street, one of the arteries of the city. The Black Fortress loomed above me, casting ominous shadows that fell short just of the intersection. The source of light came from a circle that surrounded the western section, the section that contained the original structure from generations back. I tried to remember the chapter about the Fortress, from A Concise History of Rosvero. Having wasted precious time on that pathetic excuse of a mental endeavor, I moved closer to the origins of both the quakes and the light.


    Upon reaching my destination, I was not enlightened in the least. The excitement at the prospect of gaining new knowledge was rapidly diminishing, and an overall sense of danger blanket any thought of exploring further. Upon reaching the western side, I began retreating to my apartment, located near the west gate. With my amazing observational skills I noted that the light possessed a colour and viscosity almost like molten gold.


    Turning onto the street in front of my home, I hit what felt like a brick wall.


    Stunned, I had only just begun to notice the faint barrier of light before it increased several times in intensity. Looking into the light was now akin to looking into the sun on a cloudless day; bright, golden, and guaranteed to give you a headache. Somewhere along this alarming sequence of events the temperature also began to rise, and the air was now shimmering in the heat. If I didn¡¯t know better I¡¯d have said that the city-wide heating system was malfunctioning again.


    I turned to the problem at hand. It appears that ¡°we¡±, by which I mean several startled birds and I, are the only ones affected on the street. Others, all with undoubtedly much more common sense than I, had been waiting in the side streets, where there was much less danger of being hit by falling structures several floors high.


    They now crowded at the mouths of alleys and roads, astounded, watching me like one would a fly in a jar. Needless to say, I did not appreciate that feeling.


    Pounding on the barrier proved fruitless, and after several runs up and down the street I finally concluded that everything leading away was inaccessible, or blocked. Turning to the nearest crowd, I gestured wildly for someone to bring a ladder. 2 young men returned moments later, carrying a painter¡¯s ladder. Leaning it against the barrier proved that there was not a height limit to to light. Attempts to throw a rope over, and to pour water onto the light, proved the same result.


    It was at this time I came up with a ¡®bright¡¯ idea.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°A mirror!¡± I shouted, or rather I would¡¯ve had not my throat been so parched from the heat. Clearing my throat I tried again, more successfully this time.


    My words echoed off the light, until I felt like they were being amplified a hundred times. Wincing, I noted that the people in the alleys could not hear what I was saying, nor I, them.


    And thus began a game of miming, where each time I gestured they would bring something different, to which I would shake my head at. At last, a well wishing person strode out of a shop, holding a mirror. The temperature by now was baking.


    Unfortunately, the mirror redirected the light straight at my face. A last minute observation probably saved my life; instead of having my head cut in half, I lost the majority of my hair. Looking back at the alley, I could see that the mirror¡¯s effect. The light closed as soon as it passed the mirror, and it appears that mirror was diverting only some of the light.


    The sharp crack of the mirror cursing was deafening in the echoey confines of the street.


    Thunder rolled far off in the distance.


    Stalking back to the fortress, I could see discarded military equipment everywhere, and it showed signs of a hastily ordered withdraw.


    Shields, swords, bows littered the ground. At one point, there was even half a pot of soup lying unattended among the wreckage. Seeing nothing of use, I started to walk back to where I was, determined to find a way to get out of my predicament. Having been proven that the barrier was nigh indestructible with the available tools that I had, I began of thinking of ways of avoiding it. This train of thought was rapidly derailed when I walked into a solid object, still several hundred metres away from where I was.


    I looked up. The barrier of light now formed a circle, with the fortress as its centre, and me caught like a fly within a trap.


    ¡°Damn. Damn damn damn damn damn. What is this shit?¡± I shouted into space. Surprisingly, the space does not appear to be echoing anymore, which I suppose is a good thing or else I would have lost all my sense of hearing.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± I punched the barrier. It had hurt. A lot. "This damned thing!"


    A dry chuckle, devoid of mirth, sounded behind me. "More like that this thing has damned you."


    I whirled around. A man laid on the ground, partially buried by rubble. A narrow face, high cheeks, and black hair, which is unusual in this part of the world all served to make him look exotic and stern. His albino skin only further highlighted his most striking feature; his eye. It was completely black, as though it absorbed light from around it. The uniform darkness was only marred by a piercing red iris, with no pupil. Overall, my first impression of him was that he was a demon, recently risen out of the abyss.


    It was only then I noticed the angry red marks of fetters around his wrist.


    Eyes widening, I backed away quickly, stumbling loose pieces of debris.


    "Don''t run, its not like I could hurt you in my condition," the demon called out, "breaking out really took a lot of my energy. Besides, was I a demon, you would be dead already."


    So, not a demon then, but definitely not human. No human could have caused that huge explosion that tore the fortress apart. Even the Collegium of Magnus couldn''t do what was done.


    "So, do you want to hear a story, seeing that you''re trapped in here with me and you already tried to find a way out, which there is none that I now of in case you were wondering." He coughed, and then gestured with his one free hand at a pile of debris next to him.


    "I suppose so, its not like I have more pressing matter to attend to," I said as I sat down heavily on the pile that he had indicated, "Sure, I''ll hear it."


    Balancing on the wobbling pile, I listened as he started speaking.


    "Once, there was a mercenary, just a boy really, that had traveled out of his little corner of the world, and found out just really how big the world was..."