《Shadow's Reach》 Prologue The cicadas drummed away, their humming echoing back and forth underneath the canopy where the leaves rustled and cracked in the wind which weaved like a flame through the trees in waves deep into the forest. The sun needled through the canopy, lensing to the underbrush where it scattered the insects whom only moved far enough to avoid the light before droning on once again. Every now and again a stronger, more abrupt rustle trudged forth from someplace or other in the forest. An ear perked underneath a tree; aligned with one such rustle. It did so only for a moment before returning to its natural position. Somewhere in front of the ear, and below, a nose twitched several times. A hand, or claw, rustled through the browning leaves, searching for something. It remained buried for only a few moments before withdrawing, clasping its claim tightly. Sensing the new presence, the nose twitched several times more before the claim vanished down a dark, white-rimmed hole just beneath it. Several crunching sounds escaped before a spit and another rustle. ¡°Will you stop playing around in the leaves, Migael? We¡¯re moving again,¡± a voice sounded from behind, ¡°Damn, that Migael¡­ You¡¯d swear he was on a leisurely stroll¡­¡± There came no reply from beside the tree. The ears and nose slowly rose, and followed the origin of the voice, quietly disappearing behind the curtain of needles. Several birds leapt into the sky, rustling some leaves as they left.
¡°Shit, where the hell did they go?¡± ¡°How the hell am I supposed to know?¡± ¡°You¡¯re our damn scout, you idiot. If not you, then who the fuck else?¡± The voices swam back an forth. ¡°Damnit. These are wolves, dumb animals, where could they have gone?¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Don, you damn well better find them, and quickly at that. It¡¯ll be dark soon and I want this done with by then.¡± ¡°I know, I know, I¡¯m going¡­ Sheesh, you¡¯d think they¡¯d appreciate me more. I¡¯m the one that found those blasted beasts int he first place.¡± A figure trudged off into the distance. Behind him several others remained. They huddled together slightly, the better to project their bravado and all that. The men were very well trained, their spears were quick to point, in unison, towards even the smallest of rustles of sounds barely perceptible to the ear. So eager for combat were they that their armour chattered whenever they stood still, or as still as one could when so excited. ¡°Fuck, how could that idiot lose to them?¡± ¡°How doesn¡¯t matter, the idiot did. We should dock his pay when this is done.¡± The voices jumped back and forth between the eight figures as they stood there. Their formation grew slightly more tight and impressive with every passing minute. ¡°Why are you huddling so close together?¡± a dark, ebony voice suddenly sounded amidst them. They turned as one man, but found themselves alone. ¡°I¡¯m not going to sleep on the hard ground tonight, I can still afford a nice bed back at the inn. I¡¯ll see you guys back here tomorrow,¡± one voice sounded, already receding into the distance. ¡°Hey, where the fuck are you going without me?¡± several more shortly followed suite, despite a lonely voice trying to bid them stay. ¡°You seem to be the only one left,¡± the voice whispered once more. ¡°Oh shit¡­¡± Several birds leapt into the sky, rustling some leaves as they left.
Chap, chap, chap-chap, chap¡­ chap chap, chap-chap¡­ Footsteps rung out unevenly within the forest. ¡°Fuck fuck fuck-fuck fuck¡­ ¡®Where going wolf hunting,¡¯ they sayd, ¡®It¡¯ll be easy money,¡¯ they said. This is no wolf, it¡¯s a fucking W?lf!¡± The footsteps proceeded along at a brisk pace. Trees flashed by like thunderbolts. ¡®Quick, quick, over a root, under a branch, around that stump¡­ Quick, quick, don¡¯t look back, just keep moving. Come on, feet, move faster! Faster, faster. Quicker, quicker. Before it catches me. Behind the fiture dashing along, disturbing the forest as it moved, a shadow slipped from branch to branch. Leaves drifted down gently wherever it had been. ¡®Faster, come on, move it!!!¡¯ ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have come along. I won¡¯t let those bastards talk me into something like this ever again¡­ Oh, how I wish I had listened to my little sister. She always knew better¡­ Fuck, I¡¯m so stupid!¡± A foot hooked on a root. The figure drifted through the air. It¡¯s eyes widened. In them reflected a dark, white-rimmed hole. Several dark red leaves floated to the ground, gently, like the ones before, and coloured the world crimson. Several birds leapt into the sky, rustion some leaves as they left. Chapter 1 - A New Arrival The world faded in, in fits and starts. It wasn''t smooth as had become the standard for similar games. It was a sensation not too easy to explain, it was almost like a series of bubbles popping. For every bubble that popped, a new part of the world, a building, a group of people, a tree, a bench, etc. existed. "Haa, finally I can relax a little!" a young boy sounded, elated, "I know this is supposed to be a preparatory year for when I begin to work, but they really are driving me to my wit''s end!" He looked around him. His eyes sparkled. The world was bright and playful. Birds darted around in the trees, dancing to the song the wind played on the leaves. Some were bright and multi-coloured, the parrots chatting on the branches above, and the peacocks strutting on the grass below, others were more plain, the grey and white doves, chirping away on the rooftops and window-sills. They jumped up and flew off every so often to avoid a cat playfully searching for lunch. The people were just as bright. Voices echoed back and forth all around the boy. Stalls were selling items of every kind, with tenders and prospective buyers haggling over prices. Guards stood at the entrances to the plaza, gazing out over the lively activity within, at once enjoying the cheer of the crowds, and keeping a watchful eye for any troublemakers. There were few to be found, however. Everyone busied themselves with their tasks. The buildings stood in an ever-so-Tuscan style along the roads; plastered walls in every imaginable shade of yellow, topped with copper-coloured, tiled roofs. Every other house had a chimney that burst through the roof like a dolphin jumping above the waves. And above the rooftops, above the pergolas, stretched a clear, azure sky. Occasionally a cotton swab or two would drift past, and every now and again a flock of birds would sweep overhead, singing as they went. The boy stretched. His arms cracked above his head, then swung back and forth, up and down along his sides. His neck followed, and then his back. The cracks descended like a lift from the base of his skull to the base of his spine. Finally, he bent over and touched his feet, an action which solicited a few more cracks, this time from his hips and coccyx. "Ah, this feels great!" His hand swept out in front of him and tapped in the air. Several swipes and a couple more taps followed. His eyes were focused on an indeterminate point somewhere above his hand during this whole process. After a final downward swipe, he smiled and set off. "Time to go set up. I only have a few hours before I have to go to bed." He walked slowly, his eyes darted between the various stalls and stands as he passed them by. "What should I do first? I suppose it would make sense to go to the guidhall and register. Ah, it won''t be that simple, though. I''ll need to choose a class first. Oh, wait... I''m stupid... Cosmos Gate doesn''t have a class system... Hmm... Well, I suppose picking a general direction to go for would help me choose something directed, in that case. There''s no sense in just picking what sounds nice all willy-nilly, now is there? "Hmm... I''m not really one for builds that force me to be dependent on others. I don''t have an issue with relying on others, but I want to be able to fend for myself first and foremost. Should I go for something that''s more of an all-rounder then? No, no, that would be way too generic. Something with good agility and damage output, but that is at the same time capabale of controlling the battlefield and healing himself sounds much better. Hmm... An agility, awareness and damage output focused build then? "Let''s see, new people get to choose four skills, right? So, an agility skill, an awareness skill, a damage skill, and a healing skill? Yes, that sounds nice. Riiight, let''s get to it! By the time his thoughts had come this far, he stood in front of one of the mercenary guilds in the city. This particular street had several similar buildings up and down both sides of the street. In front of each hung a board with a different name. "Devil''s Cry, he? Sounds nice enough. Right, we''ll pick this guild," he stepped forward and disappeared into the darker interior of the building. The inside of the building, whilst being considerably darker than outside, was still quite bright. Several large glass panes allowed ample light into the room, and lamps were strategically placed to light the furthest, darker corners. Several banners hung from the pillars, each different from the next, and more impressive than the last. Bright reds, dark greens, deep blues, regal purples, all the colours of the rainbow were caught in those banners. "Amazing, they''re so beautiful!" the boy couldn''t help but exclaim as he stared at them. "They are, aren''t they? They are the banners of our top teams. The best of the best," a voice sounded from behind the boy.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "You''re new, aren''tcha boy?" the man stood up from the table nearby and came closer. His hand outstretched, he smiled, "Name''s Carl, how can I help you?" "Hmm," the boy nodded, "I''m Michael. It''s a pleasure to meet you," he bowed slightly as he said it before clasping Carl''s hand firmly, "Brand spanking new. I came to register, in fact." "Great, you won''t regret choosing Devil''s Cry as your guild, I can promise you that! The counter''s over there. Don''t be shy; ask if you have any questions." "Thanks, I will." The two finished their greetings and introductions. Carl returned to his seat, and Michael continued on to the counter. "Isn''t that boy cute? Jet black hair, and those ice-blue eyes, he looks almost like a husky, doesn''t he?" "Hmm-Hmm. I could just eat him up!" Several girls whispered to one another not-too-discreetly in a corner, occasionally stealing glances of Michael as he passed. He didn''t pay much heed to their banter. ''Well, I should expect such a reaction, I did choose to be handsome and astoundingly attractive, after all,'' he thought. Behind the counter was a young-ish lady, probably in her mid-to-late twenties. She looked very much like the buildings that lined the streets, copper-brown hair tied in a bun at the top of her head, with two side-burns hanging down just in front of her ears to her jaw-line, a tan, almost dark yellow complexion, grass-green eyes with the purest white surrounding them, framed by the darkest brown eye-lashes ever seen. She smiled as Michael approached. "Good morning, sir. How can we help you today?" ''Wow, the NPCs are really well done!'' Michael immediately thought as he looked at her for a moment longer than was probably appropriate before answering. "Good morning. I''m looking to register with the guild." "Excellent, sir. Are you new, or do you already have a registered profession?" "I''m new, no profession yet." "I see, would you like to take our aptitude test for a recommendation?" "Aptitude test? I thought you just chose your skills and went with it from there. Come to think of it, why would one need to register a profession if Cosmos Gate doesn''t have any classes? "Dear me, sir, you really are new, I have no idea what you''re talking about," the lady said, covering her mouth with her hands. Her shoulders shook a few times before she regained her composure. Michael slapped his forehead, ''Of course! This is supposed to be real hardcore roleplay... The NPCs don''t ''know'' that this is a game... Ahhhh, I''m so stupid... Really." "Please, forgive my senseless remarks just now. Yes, I would like to take the aptitude test." "That''s okay, sir. Please, follow me." The lady stepped out from behind the counter and led Michael through a side door into the rear part of the building. The pair walked for a minute or so, winding left and right down corridors, and changing them several times before reaching the rear of the building. The plot on which the building was built seemed to be rather large. And directly behind the plot was a large park. It seemed the other buildings in this street were similar, there were no building silhouettes besides the others that lined the same street as the one from which they had just emerged. The yard in which Michael found himself was about half a hectare: 100 by 50 metres. It stretched lengthwise out from the building towards the park. It was boxed in by a two and a half metre tall wall. To either side of the wall were other training yards, and beyond it stretched the park. The space within this enclosure, the yard, was dotted with people practising and training (the difference being whether they exercised alone, or had a partners as opponent of comrade). Sweat flew through the air like water from a sprinkler, jewels twinkling in the sunlight. The people appeared to be star-studded, hundreds of droplets twinkled on their skin. It made for quite an impressive scene. "This way, please," the lady woke Michael. The two proceeded along the centre of the yard to the far end. They passed groups of men and women practicing various disciplines. Some were practising swordplay, either on dummies on posts, or dueling with more lively opponents, some spearplay, others were making pincushions of targets with bows and arrows, knives, etc. One was even throwing what appeared to be what the history books call ''shuriken''. ''Well, I suppose technically anything that can be hidden is a shuriken, but it appears that the popular perception two hundred years ago was that shuriken were these short, double-edge blades that one threw with a flick of the wrist. They finally arrived at the far end of the yard. There, supervising several other youngsters, was a lion. Well, he wasn''t strictly speaking a lion. He stood two and a half metres tall. He had what could only be described as a mane of golden hair, and his hands were at east the same size as a lion''s paw would have been had they not gone extinct a hundred and fifty years ago. The man saw the two of them approaching a few dozen metres before they arrived, and walked up to greet them. "Good morning, Liscia, another prostective guildmember?" the man asked, looking at Michael. His face was split in half by a massive smile, it was like his mouth was a ''zipper'' - those ancient ways of closing up parts of people''s garments that had been out of fashion for a hundred and seventy years already - that had come undone. Liscia didn''t say anything. She simply returned his smile - in a far more modest and elegant form, of course - and nodded slightly. "Dar here will explain everything to you, come see me once you''re done, okay?" she said to Michael. Thereafter she made an almost military like, though elegant - then again, it seemed impossible for her to to anything that wasn''t elegant - about-turn and began the trek back to the guilds counter. "That woman... Is she really still mad at me? Sheesh..." the lion, Dar, asked himself, scratching his head. Then again, he might just as well have been rumaging through his mane for something he had stowed there earlier. It was difficult to say, as his mane swallowed his arm from about halfway between the elbow and the hand. He maintained the posture for only just more than a second, before unzipping his face once-more. "Well, hello there, young man. I''m Dar, as Liscia just mentioned. So you''re here to take the aptitude test, I assume?" Michael nodded, "Yes, indeed I am." "Great! Well, let''s get started." Chapter 2 - The Old Emperor and the Young Assistant Antoine half-trotted along. His footsteps echoed up and down the long, wide hallway. His pace was brisk, causing his hair to sway gently. The right side of the corridor was lined with massive windows. They stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and cast regular boxes of light across the hallway and onto the wall opposite. The wall opposite, on the other hand, was a beautiful white wall. Every couple of steps was a door to the office of one official or another. The hallway was quite long, easily reaching a hundred metres. Every twenty or so another corridor split of and headed deeper into the building. Antoine''s destination lie at the far end of the corridor. ''Ah... I''m so excited!'' Antoine shouted in his head, ''It''s been a year already. I can''t believe it.'' In his mind''s eye appeared the figure of a gentle, kind, friendly, and majestic old man wearing what could only be described as angel''s workwear. Antoine giggled slightly at the description of the Emperor''s clothing, but it was true. He had been wearing completely white clothes. Everything from his shoes to his gloves were completely white. The white even extended to his beard and the hair at the top of his head, which, despite his age, hadn''t thinned in the least and was still as thick as a map. The white was only broken by a thin golden trim at the collar and tips of the sleeves. There was also a golden embroidered imperial crest on the left of his chest, and another crest, but this time the crest of the nation, embroidered on the right of his chest, nearest his heart. Antoine himself was wearing a white uniform, but it was far less complete in its whiteness. The shoes, pants, shirt, jacket, and gloves were white, but four golden lines ran down his sides, two to each. They started on his shoulder, emerging from beneath his epaulette (1), ran down his sleeves, and continued along the outside of his legs on his pants all the way to his shoe. The tips of his sleeves also had two thick, golden lines running along them. His epaulette was rather simple. It was a simple pad on his shoulder, with a two-cord twisted golden rope running along its edge, and no more than a dozen tassels hanging from it, each with several small glass crystals attached to it, and terminating in a single pinkie finger nail sizes glass crystal. On the flat top of his epaulette was embroidered the imperial crest, also in gold. Government official had different coloured lines running down their uniforms that designated the nature of their positions. Full fledged staff members had a single line, about as thick as as a thumb was long, running down their sides, whilst staff-in-training had two lines, about a third the thickness of the line full-fledged staff wore, separated by a space also a third-thickness. Staff members responsible for enforcement, such as the officers of the military constabularies and the Royal Constabulary, had blue lines. The public administration staff, those that dealth specifically with the citizenry, wore lime green lines. General administration staff, those responsible for the paperwork of all the various departments, had dark green lines. Executive managerial staff, those responsible for sections or sub-departments, and even entire departments, had bronze lines. Only ''national officials'' - the Emperor, the Prime Minister, and the various other ministers, and their teams of advisors and aides - wore gold.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The uniforms themselves came in three different colours. General government - those responsible for running the country - wore white, civilian enforcement - the civilian constabularies - wore blue uniforms when on duty - with white stripes instead of the blue ones of their military and royal counterparts, for obvious reasons - and the military wore black uniforms. Regardless of the colour of the normal uniforms, everyone whore white uniforms during ceremonies. Those uniforms had several other ways of distinguishing between the branches of government (General Governance, Civilian Enforcement, and the Military). The military had many lines specific to them alone as well, but the only one that Antoine had come across with any kind of regularity was that of the Royal Guards. They wore white, instead of black, uniforms with regal purple lines. In addition to the colours of the uniforms, and the lines, there was a third way to differentiate between the various staff members. The colour of the uniforms signified the branch of government one was part of, the lines differentiated the nature of the job one did, but the final signified one''s loyalty. Staff members elected by the people wore the crest of the section of the population that voted for them; city Mayors wore the crest of their city, Ministers wore the crest of the nation, etc. Those within the general government that were appointed rather than elected wore the crest of the government. The constabulary wore the crest of the royal family. Most of the military wore the crest of the country - which isn''t the same as the crest of the nation. Those of minor nobility - such as knights - and other staff members, who had sworn their personal allegiance to the emperor, wore the imperial crest on their left shoulder - which was closest to their heart to signify where their strongest allegiance lie. Their other shoulder had the normal crest as was appropriate for their position. The imperial crest was unique for each emperor, though throughout the empire''s history there had only been one emperor, and so only one imperial crest. Those who wore the imperial crest could be found throughout all three branches of government, as it didn''t depend on your position, but on swearing your allegiance to the Emperor. Though, theoretically, one could gain the right to wear the imperial crest regardless of one''s social standing or one''s position in the branches of government, this wasn''t the case in reality. One had to swear allegiance to the Emperor in person, and only very high-ranking members of society, or those with extraordinary achievement, could even get an audience. Antoine arrived at the final door in the hallway and knocked on it twice. "Come in," a familiar voice sounded from within. Antoine took a deep breath, straightened out his uniform, and, only once he was sure everything was as perfect as he could ever get them, opened the door and stepped inside. In front of Antoine, at the other end of the quite spacious (read: enormous) office, stood a desk. It seemed to be heavy, both from the dark ebony wood it was made of, and the two mountains of paperwork stacked on top of it, one at each end. The two sides of the office that lead up to the desk were books. They filled the shelves from the floor to the very top of the five-metre ceiling. The chair behind the desk was turned away from him, so he could not see the man sitting in it, whom seemed to be staring out of the window. He could only see the arm on the armrest. "Come forward, child. No need to be shy," the same voice sounded from behind the chair. Antoine swallowed and, step by step, approached the desk. The voice said nothing, nor did the chair move until he stood right in front of the desk, holding his few papers in front of him, stiff-armed. The chair slowly swung around. "Welcome child." "Good morning, Your Royal Majesty." Several birds leapt into the sky, rustling some leaves as they left. Chapter 3 - Predator and Prey The image in Antoine''s mind overlapped with the man sitting in front of him, and the two merged into one seamlessly. He gave a deep bow. "Good morning, Your Royal Majesty," he greeted before slowly returning to the vertical. The Emperor merely smiled at him and gestured majestically to the two seats in front of the desk. Antoine took his seat, paying attention to always maintain a straight, neat posture. Even in the seat, he could not relax. The agonising seen of earlier that afternoon kept coming up in his mind every time he thought about relaxing. "Stand up straight! Keep your arse as taught as a mother''s stomach during birth! Come on... Shoulders up... Chest out! I said chest out!" An elderly lady walked around him, constantly prodding him with a short, wooden baton. "My god, you''re useless... Why did he pick you? At least he should have chosen someone with at least a modicum (1) of training in etiquette and posture... You? You would offend a rat with a glance! Well, this will have to do, we''re out of time." The old lady just couldn''t stop ridiculing him, could she? He knew very well he was a far cry from the grace and poise of nobility, he was a farm-boy after all. He didn''t even have any ambition to take a job at the royal palace. He just wanted to pass his course and hopefully gain tenure to do research at any of the national academies. ''I''ve been plucked against my will! A chicken egg ripped from its mother''s nest! Why are you ridiculing me? I had no choice in the matter!'' he wanted to shout. He couldn''t help but wonder who it was that had plucked him so rudely from his life and plopped him in the royal palace. He hadn''t even known where he was supposed to work until the carriage turned a corner and he found himself in front of the palace gates. "Sigh," this had gotten him another round of berations from the old lady. ''Please don''t swing that stick around so much. You''ll poke my eye out!'' Oh, how perfect his life had been.
"Morning Antoine! How have you been?" a voice echoed from the door of the classroom. The person from whom the shout came, was Lily. She just couldn''t do things reservedly, could she? It was fine for people to expect him to fail at nearly every corner when it came to proper etiquette, he was a country bumpkin after all, but Lily? She was a noble, and not just any noble, she was the eldest daughter of one of the three Dukes Primaire, the three highest nobles beneath the Emperor. One of them would even inherist the throne after the Emperor passed away. Normally the eldest son of the Emperor would inherit the throne, or in case there were no male heirs, the eldest daughter would, but the Emperor had no heirs. The Emperor had never even so much as dated a woman. For all of his life he had secluded himself within the castle. He would appear occasionally during annual celebrations, and frequently visited the Royal Academy, but, other than that, no one ever saw or heard from him. Besides the three Dukes Primaire, not even any of the other nobles ever saw him. And even those three only saw him once or twice a year. Lily''s father wasn''t just any of those Dukes Primaire either. He was the one closest to the Emperor, and the one everyone thought was most likely to be chosen to succeed the Emperor. As his daughter, Lily was soon going to be the First Princess of the empire. But she acted even rowdier than some of the farm girls Antoine knew from back home. He behaviour wasn''t just out of place considering her position in society, her status and her future, it didn''t match her looks either. She was the picture of a fairy tale princess. Soft, smooth skin, gentle curves, petite features, beautiful red lips, lake-blue eyes and dark, almost black, hair. Come to think of it, how did he even manage to become friends with her? Antoine didn''t dwell on the matter for too long, however. The last three years of his life had been one messy miracle after another, and meeting and becoming close friends with Lily was just one of the earlier ones he could recall. "Morning, my Lady," he answered her. "Humph!" Lily''s cheeks puffed and her eyes frowned at him, "I''ve told you countless times before not to ''my lady'' me!" She stomped up to him and knocked him on his head. "You''re my friend, not some servant, act like it!" "Yes, my Lady. My apologies, My Lady. I just ask my Lady that she remember that my Lady is the daughter of one of the Duckes Primaire. It would be a lesser L¨¨se-Majest¨¦ if I didn''t address my Lady properly. Also, we''re in public, people would gossip greatly if such a crime was to be committed."Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. What Antoine said was true. With Lily as the daughter of a duke, and the daughter of one of the Dukes Primaire at that, it would be a grave crime if he, a commoner, didn''t address her properly. However, he omitted in his reply that such formal address could be omitted if the other wasn''t royalty, and permitted such an omission. "L¨¨se-Majest¨¦ my foot! I told you to stop doing that so it''s perfectly fine to stop!" she protested, "Anyway, move over, I''m sitting here." "What?!" "You heard me. I''m sitting here," Lily didn''t give him any more chances to protest and quite gracelessly plopped her bottom down on the bench, forcing him over a seat. Antoine knew it was useless to offer any further resistance, and simply dropped his head on the table. Lily smiled secretly at the sight and puffed out her chest slightly. ''Should a lady like you really be strutting around like a peacock?'' Antoine couldn''t help thinking when he saw her do that. Well, it couldn''t be helped. There was no arguing with her. Once she made a decision, that was the end of it. Only the gods could make her stop, and even they would no doubt have some difficulty in doing so. "Good morning, class!" a voice rang out from in front of them. "Good morning, Doctor Willen!" the class responded. "I assume everyone had a good three weeks of rest. No doubt all of you are rearing to dive back into our work." No one answered. A solitary sound of agreement could be heard from a young man at the very front of the hall. Loris was the class''s most enthusiastic student. He always arrived first in the morning, and often stayed behind well after everyone else had left to discuss the work with their lecturers. Antoine was also enthusiastic about the work, but seeing the disgusted looks of his classmates at Loris''s utterance, he could only voice his agreement in spirit. His gaze slowly shifted from the table to the middle-aged man standing on the platform at the very front of the hall. He was a thin-boned man, in truth he looked more like a walking stick than a person. Everything about him seemed to be thin and drawn, his limbs, his nose, his fingers, even his hair - which was already thinning. But as weak and frail as his body seemed, his eyes shone with a devilish intelligence. He was a starved cheetah, desperately searching for any knowledge he could devour. Antoine had even heard the other lecturers say that he was likely to become the youngest faculty dean in the - admittedly short - history of tertiary academic institutions. "Alright everyone, let''s begin the semester. Get your notebooks and let''s get started,'' Doctor Willen waited a few moments until he saw about half of the students had their books and pencils out, "Right, this semester I''ll be teaching you Research Methodology. So, anyone know what research is?" Loris raised his hand, but the lecturer ignored him. This had become common practise. If the lecturers were to let Loris answer every time he raised his hand, he would be the only person answering. Both he and the lecurers seemed to have come to some unspoken agreement. Loris would raise his hand to show he knew the answer, but the lecturers would first see if there was anyone else who also wished to contribute. If the answer should be rather simple or easy, they would even refuse to let Loris answer all together, and force the rest of the class to participate. ''There must exist some code btween Loris and the lecturers,'' Antoine thought, ''If he raises his left hand, they ignore him most of the time, but when he raises his right hand, they immediately, or relatively quickly, give him a chance to speak. What was it that he would usually say then?'' Antoine rummaged through his memory, pealing back week after week of memory clutter in search of that bit of information. ''Ah. It''s been nearly two months since I was last in class, and on top of that I never really paid much attention to what he said. I can''t remember. Oh well.'' Doctor Wellin had picked his victim, and was staring at him like a cheetah, just waiting for him to make his move. "Umm... I think it''s gathering information?" the gazelle answered. "Yes, that''s true, but is that all you''re doing? Are you just gathering information at random? If the gazelle is being chased by a cheetah, does the gazelle still pay attention to everything else that''s going on?" "N-No, he focuses on the cheetah?" "So, just like the gazelle, what do you do when you research?" "You focus on a specific topic?" "Yes, good." The gazelle had escaped. It slumps back down in its seat as if collapsing from exhaustion. It looks seveveral months older thn before the ordeal began. The cheetah, however, not satisfied with the state of things, turns his attention to the herd once more. "So, how do we go about gathering this information?" It scans the herd for a few moments, picks out its next target, and closes in for the kill. As if noticing the approaching danger, the gazelle near the apparent target are quick to throw their comrade into the flames of hell. They slink away, and put as much distance between themselves and the pray as possible. "Umm... You read textbooks?" The poor sod answeres. "My dear child..." The moment stretches. Predator and prey stare one another in the eyes. Neither dares to look away and begin the chase, from whom-so-ever breaks eye-contact first, would surely die. "That''s true. It''s one source you could go to, but it''s not HOW you gather information." The chase is on. "Umm.. You go out into the field?" "And do what?" The gazelle slips on a rock. The cheetah is gaining ground. "Umm.. You do experiments?" The gazelle is back on its feet, but can it escape the clutches of its hunter? "How did you know that word? You aren''t one for reading much, are you, Heir of Earl Javos?" The sidestep doesn''t work, now the cheetah is mere metres away! "I, umm... I don''t know, Doctor." And the kill is confirmed. "That''s okay, we''re all here to learn. Admitting you don''t know, is the first step on the journey to greater understanding. After that follows figuring out what it is that you don''t know, and then, yes, ''research''." Doctor Wellin pointed dramatically at the two words that had appeared on the board without anyone''s notice. Was he a lecturer, or an actor? "And when you do research, especially academic research, you must follow a specific method, hence ''methodology''. And that''s what we''re going to study this semester: the various methods and manners in which you do academic research!" ''Ugh, the stage is set for our next six months of suffering.'' Chapter 4 - Hymn of the Night Sky The group continued their march through the forest. "The Naked Devils will never catch us. They''re so loud when they move you could hear them from hundreds of strides away." "Yeah. Unlike them we Howlers are born to the forest. We know how to move through the forest: like the stars in the night sky." "Hear, hear." Migal only rolled his eyes. ''Aren''t you being noisy now?'' he thought. "Don''t you agree, Migal?" "Don''t bother. He''s even quieter than us. I''ve only heard him make a sound twice since he joined us, and both times it was a fart!" The rest burst out in laughter. "Migal the Mute isn''t called that for nothing, I guess." "Quiet down. You''re worse than the devils," the leader silenced them. Dawn was the leader of this hunting party; a tall, brawny howler. He was named for his fur coat, which was like the dawn: a soft yellow-orange that darkened as it descended from his head to his tail, the tip of which ended in a flash of crimson. "Yes boss!" the rest answered, and nothing could be heard from them for quite some time. The group moved non-stop for several hours, only stopping once the nightsun was high in the sky. "We''ll stop here for the night," Dawn said when they reached a small patch of thinned forest. The group immediately found small spots for themselves to rest. Each claimed a tree and curled up next to it. It wasn''t long before the majority were snoring away. Migal didn''t fall asleep, however. He waited until he was sure everyone was out cold, and snuck off. He crept up the hillside until he found himself above the treeline, in a clearing at the top of the hill. Above was a canopy of stars. They were bright, shining like diamonds in the dark of the night. Each had its own hue, its own shimmer. He found himself a spot where the ground looked softer, and the grass a little greener, and lay down. With his hands beneath his head he lay, gazing up at the sky. Slowly, a lonely, solemn voice drifted from the hill-top. It flowed down the hill and into the forest, weaving its way through the trees. It found its way to a stream, where it drifted with the current, away into the unknown. No matter how much I draw, it doesn''t become beautiful The paints that I chose are not at fault That shooting star I saw last midnight I can still remember it I was waiting for you Hello shooting star, Hello shooting star Again I''ve been waiting for you That girl who dreams Is still right here, ah ah Just like that day, ah ah Hello shooting star, Hello shooting star Again I''m waiting for you Please don''t stop dreaming Even if you''re crying, ah ah Even if you''re smiling, ah ah Shine again and dispel The darkness in my heart The shadow in my soul (1) The night, which was quiet already before, was completely silent when the voice faded away at last. A shadow emerged from the forest, ascended the hill-top, and came to a sit next to Migal. "It''s a sad song." "Ah," Migal answered. "Where did you hear it? It''s not a song I know." "It drifts around in my dreams." "You hear songs in your dreams?" Dawn asked, "I thought all howlers dreamt of only two things." "And what would those two things be?" "Hunting and howling at the nightsun, of course," Dawn looked at Migal, slightly baffled, "It seems what they say is true." "They say many things; you''ll have to be more specific than that." "You really aren''t very good at being a howler, are you? You don''t dream of hunting or howling. You don''t howl at the nightsun, but instead you hymn to the stars. You''re not big or brawny, and you refuse to hunt deer or any other animal for that matter. I''ve heard all you eat are roots and plants, is that true?"Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "I do hunt," Migal answered. "Oh? What do you hunt?" "Naked devils." Migal''s lips curled into a snarl as he spat out the two words like so many pieces of rotten meat. "So that''s true as well." "What?" "You have a deeper hatred for the naked devils than most. I wonder why that is. As far as I know you haven''t had any noteworthy encounters with them. None of your family have been killed-" "I don''t need to have lost someone to that filth to hate them." "...I see." Silence descended on the hill-top for a few minutes before Dawn spoke again. "So tell me, why did you come on this hunt?" "You really do talk a lot, you know that?" "I do, now tell me." "Ah... You''re supposed to pass at least one hunt to become an adult, right?" "That''s true, but only if you want to be allowed to leave the pack on missions, or if you want to join another pack. You can live a good life within the pack even if you don''t pass a hunt." "I need to pass the hunt. I have naked devils to kill, and they won''t be polite enough to come to the pack for their deaths." "Ugh, there you go again. Why exactly do you hate the naked devils so much?" "I have my reasons." "Humph. Kid, let me tell you this: it would be best if you stayed at the back of the group for now. Your slim body doesn''t have much strength in it, you''d only get hurt if you tried to do more than you''re capable of." "I don''t need lecturing. I might not be as strong as any of you, or look as intimidating, but I kill just fine." "Don''t say I didn''t warn you." Dawn said as he stood up. He descended the hill, heading back into the forest. His voice echoed from the treeline. "Don''t fall asleep up here, you''ll catch a cold. I don''t want to have to carry you around for the rest of the hunt!" Migal drew his knees against his chest and stared at the mountains in the distance. "I''m not as weak as you think I am," he whispered.
The morning was slow to come. Migal spent most of the night gazing up at the stars as they marched across the sky. ''How marvellous would it be if people were like that? Just always walking the right path. Marching to their destiny, never swayed by temptation or greed.'' He stood up slowly, and left the hill-top as the sky began to brighten and the stars fade. He arrived back at the resting place of the group just as Dawn was kicking everyone awake. "Come on, get up! It''s time to get moving you bunch of bastards!" He laughed as kick after kick landed on the howlers, rousing them from their slumber. "Oh, damn boss. Why do you always have to kick us awake? Can''t you nibble my ear or something instead?" Kor protested. "Shit Kor, I didn''t know your tail curled!" Dawn rebutted. Everyone burst out in laughter. Some even rolled on the floor. "Dick, you''ll have to be careful. Next time you might want to pick a tree further away from Kor!" "Stop it! You guys know I didn''t mean it like that!" The teasing continued for several minutes, and by the time everyone had calmed down, the rude wake-up call was all but forgotten. "Right, enough playing around. We''re heading out. We should be reaching the hunting grounds soon, so stay alert and keep an eye out for good pray!" Dawn shouted as he started heading off into the forest. Everyone followed and soon the group had already travelled several thousand strides. The forest was lush. Every possible paw of ground was covered with one kind of foliage or another. From his time spent in the forest, Migal could identify most of the plants, and those he couldn''t he knew he didn''t have to pay any attention to. He knew every one of the important plants, the poisonous and the edible, everything else was useless and didn''t pose any threat to him. The group was immersed in their banter the whole time, but Migal didn''t participate. He remained as silent as the night. Only his breathing, and the gentle swoosh of his tail kept Dawn aware of his presence. "He''s quite silent that guy. Not just doesn''t he talk, but his movements all seam deliberately made to be as quiet as possible. I can''t hear any unnecessary sound coming from him. If not for his weak physique, he would make a pretty decent hunter. Ah, all the talent is wasted on the weak.'' Dawn could do nothing but lament nature''s twisted sense of humour. Why was it that those with the brightest minds, or the greatest talent, always had the worst bodies? His own elder brother was one such person: blessed with great tracking skills, but born without a tail. Whilst this didn''t impede his normal day-to-day life, it prevented him from hunting. The tail was essential to maintaining balance and performing fast and tight manoeuvres. Without it there was no way one could catch anything faster or more agile than a tortoise. As a result, his brother was relegated to teaching the concepts of tracking, whilst Dawn himself had to take the groups of youngsters out to practice their knowledge in the field. ''Oh well, we each do what we can,'' Dawn thought. He shook his head lightly and didn''t pay it any more heed. He had a job to do after all. The group slinked through the forest. The sun slowly climbed up into the sky where it seared a golden hole in the azure blanket. "Migal, come over here," Dawn called. "Ooo, seems Migal is in trouble," one of the group teased. "Doesn''t it seem like the boss has been far chattier with him since this morning?" "You can''t really call that chatting, can you? He''s the only one talking. All Migal does is grunt or nod or shake his head from time to time." "That''s about as chatty as he''s likely ever to be, and it''s far more than he''s ever been before, wouldn''t you say?" Kor interjected. "Of course, curl-tail Kor would know a lot more about how other males act, wouldn''t he?" Everyone laughed. "Come on, drop it already. I told you guys it''s nothing like that!" Migal glanced at them over his shoulder for a moment before merely shaking his head. "Bunch of useless brats." "Ah, you shouldn''t be so self-deprecating, Migal. You''re not completely useless," Dawn answered sarcastically. Migal only shot him an irritated glance before falling into silence once more. A few minutes passed in such partial silence. Suddenly, Migal stopped dead in his tracks. "What''s the mat-" Dawn only uttered half his sentence before shutting up immediately as well. "Hey, shut up back there! Get down!" he yelled at the group behind him. He turned back to Migal, observing him quietly. Migal''s nose twitched several times, and his ears moved from side to side, scanning his surroundings. A fire ignited in his eyes, and his lips curled into a demented, devilish smile. "Naked devils." The words had barely left his mouth before he vanished into the trees. Dawn felt a cold spark run up and down his spine. ''So much hatred,'' he thought, ''What exactly birthed such a loathing, such a thirst for vengeance in that kid? Nevermind that, where did he go? I can''t hear anything. Is his stealth that good?'' Dawn was puzzled for half a moment before his eyes widened. "The fucker! He''s a complete idiot. What can he do against a group of eight or more naked devils?" He turned to the rest of the group. "Listen up you bastards! That idiot Migal rushed ahead at a bunch of naked devils like an idiot! We better move and save him!" "Oh come on! It was bad enough that he was dead weight on the trip so far, but now he''s even sinking and dragging us with him? I''m going to beat him up when I get my hands on him!" someone protested. No one disobeyed, however, and the group dashed forward, trying to catch up to the shadow that slowly disappeared in the canopy amongst the branches and leaves. Chapter 5 - A Crimson Coloured World The trees flashed by quickly. Several rabbits were startled as shadows streaked by them. "What on earth is Migal thinking? I thought the frail were supposed to be a little smarter than the brawny, but his brain seems to be just as shrivelled up as his body!" "Shut up and move faster. We have to catch up to him!" The group sped through the forest as fast as they could. They didn''t bother to pay attention to how much noise they were making, nor trying to keep that noise low. They simply pushed their bodies to move as fast as possible. If they weren''t fast enough, surely their comrade would be dead. However, as they came closer to the source of the naked devils'' smell, Dawn slowed them down. Something wasn''t right. They should be hearing sounds of combat by now. Sure, Migal was much weaker than any of the other howlers of his or the previous generation, but the difference in strength between howlers and naked devils wasn''t small enough that his comparative weakness should allow him to be so quickly and easily dispatched. A few steps later, however, Dawn winced. He grew even more unsettled. This time it was not due to the absence of sound, but the presence of two strong scents, and the contradictory picture they portrayed. The first of the two smells was that of blood, not howler blood, but naked devil blood. In essence this wasn''t surprising. Even if Migal had been defeated, he should have put up a decent fight, his hatred alone would have allowed him to inflict severe wounds on his opponents - even had he been a naked devil - and given that he was a howler, his strength should have been enough to even mortally wound or kill one or two of them. What truly unsettled Dawn, though, was the second smell. A stench of urine stained his nose. It seeped into his nostrils and carved its way into his olfactory nerve. It made him want to sneeze. The smell would have been enough to overpower even the horrible sense of smell of naked devils. Howles''sense of smell was several times more sensitive and acute than that of naked devils, so it was even worse for them. Several of the other members of the group couldn''t supress their reflex and bellowed out sneezes that echoed into the forest. Dawn gave them an angry glare, but couldn''t reprimand them. They had no experience when it came to hunting, or combat, and couldn''t really be relied on much. Besides, he was more concerned by what the smell signified. Urine was released naturally when an animal died. After the initial muscle convulsions that followed shortly after death as the muscles fought for air, they would all relax. This included the sphincter muscles that kept the bladder closed. This was true for all animals with bladders. However, the amount wasn''t typically all that much. Since the animal would typically be laying down, there wasn''t too much pressure to force the urine out of the bladder. Whilst there would be a smell from the little that leaked out, it shouldn''t be anywhere near this strong. This strong smell could only come from a complete bladder discharge. Which meant that the dead had relieved themselves before their death. As for the nature of the smell itself, that also told him two important facts about the situation that lay beyond the next couple of trees. First off, each species had a different smell to their urine, and he could clearly tell this was naked devil urine, not howler urine. This told him that Migal wasn''t dead. But if he wasn''t dead, then where was he? And why was the fight over already? The second thing about the urine, was that amidst the normal stench of urine, there was mixed in the distinct flavour of fear. It was the smell of a particularly intense kind of fear, a terror that shook the very core of the reliever. The naked devils didn''t just die in fear, they died in abject terror. This kind of terror, however, wasn''t something howlers could cause. For all the evils of the naked devils, Dawn had to give it to them, they were smart. They had come to understand the nature of the howlers, and the limits of their capabilities, so when faced with a howler, even a particularly desperately fighting one, much less a frail one such as Migal, they shouldn''t be releasing urine at all, not to speak of urine that wreaked of sanity destroying terror. ''What exactly happened down there?'' Dawn thought. If not for the absolute trust he had in his own sense of smell, he might have thought that some other, as yet unsmelt, creature was involved. He drummed up his courage and determination with a cold ''humph'' at his own hesitation, and stepped forward.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. "Come on, let''s move!" The others hesitated for a moment before following him. They closed the remaining distance slowly and quietly. Nowhere along their approach could they hear any sounds; the forest was completely silent. The silence was to the extent that they could hear their own hearts beating, and their compatriots'' breathing. Despite the attention they paid to being silent, they could hear their footsteps. No leaf rustled. No nocturnal birds chirped. No animal moved, even in the distance. It felt like they were in the graveyard of a vampire''s castle town. The trees suddenly thinned, and they were confronted with a scene they had never seen before. Out of the group of fifteen wolves, only Dawn had seen something in the same hemisphere as this. The group grabbed either their stomachs or mouths in unison. Some turned around and emptied their stomachs, whilst others couldn''t turn around fast enough and their lunches spewed forth in arcs. The word in front of them was crimson. The red covered the leaves like early winter snowfall. It clung to the bark of the trees like honey. Chunks of firmness hung on low hanging branches. A few arms could be distinguished, and a hand clung to the hilt of a spear as if still ready to pierce through anything that approached it. A head lay next to what seemed to be the leftovers of a cuirass (1), probably belonging to the leader of the former group. "What, what''s going on here?" Kor asked. "Wh-What happened?" Dick followed. "This, this looks like the gateway to hell..." "No, this, this... I don''t know what this is." "A slaughter." Everyone stared in disbelief, some vomited a second or even a third time. Dawn took a step forward, and as if moving purely based on his body''s own momentum, he walked. It couldn''t really be called walking, it was more like his body was drifting forward, and he was just keeping his legs beneath it. "Migal," he called out. There was no answer. The sound of incongruent whimpering entered his ear. It appeared to be coming from behind a tree at the other end of the crimson world. A pair of legs lay before the tree, and a blood trail led around it. His body moved to the tree, and as he peered around it, he found the upper half of the body there. The naked devil''s intestines were trailing in a small arc back the way the blood trail came. It was holding a small pendant in its hand, whimpering what Dawn could only assume was meant to be a religious recitation, or perhaps what the naked devils called a ''prayer''. Its face slowly lifted to look at him. Its entire face shook as it did so. It seemed as though it was freezing from the cold, even though winter was still far away, and it was laying square in the fading afternoon sunshine. In its eyes Dawn saw terror, and elation? "P-Please..." the devil whimpered. Dawn knelt and placed his ear closer to hear the last words of the devil. It might be a naked devil, but the dying could be extended at least the small courtesy of having their last words heard. "P-Please..." the whimpering came again, "k-kill me... Before, it c-comes back..." The voice faded, and all life left the devil''s eyes. The terror, however, remained, destined to remain in those glassy, lifeless eyes until they rotted away. ''What, what demon did this?'' Dawn asked himself, ''What being could move so swiftly. What creature could kill these notoriously tenacious naked devils so quickly, and instil in them a fear that made them ask the creatures traditionally their enemies, for the mercy of death? And more importantly, what did it do with Migal?'' It was at this moment that the rest of the group had finally managed to cross the clearing, and came around the tree. When they saw the upper half of the devil, several convulsed as if to vomit, but their already empty stomachs refused to give them the satisfaction of expelling something from their bowels. In the end, they could only convulse stupidly, like a fish struggling to breath out of water. "What do we do now, boss?" one of the group asked. "We spread out and search for him," Dawn answered after collecting himself, "Since there doesn''t seem to be any indication that Migal is among those here, whatever did this must either have him, or be chasing him currently." Kor raised a paw, as though they were still sitting under the old tree of wisdom back near the cave. "What is it, Kor?" Dawn asked. "If the thing was powerful enough to do this so quickly, wouldn''t we only be making ourselves more vulnerable than we already are by splitting up?" "Damnit!" Dawn slammed his fist into the tree, causing several pieces of bark to splinter off and fall around the corpse, "You''re right. Alright, we''ll have to search for him together." "Can''t we just leave him and return to the cave? If there really is a monster that can do this, we need to warn the rest of the pack, and Migal was the one who rushed off without a concern for his own safety in the first place!" another voiced their protest. None of the others said as much, but they nodded in agreement. ''Ah, they really haven''t had a chance to learn anything yet,'' Dawn thought, ''If we howlers were so quick to abandon our own kind, we would have gone extinct long ago.'' "No. We need to find Migal. It would be a complete disgrace if we were to return to the pack without him," Dawn added underneath his breath, "or at least a piece of his corpse." He shook his head once again and looked at everyone with the stern face he knew they all needed to see from the alpha-male in the group right now. "Spread out and search around the edge of the clearing. Find me some trail of blood that could indicate in which direction Migal and whatever did this went! With this much blood around, there''s no way they didn''t get some of it on their feet." The others nodded and immediately spread out. Chapter 6 - An Old Man in the Park "Ahh! That Doctor Wallin really is a monster!" Antoine exclaimed as he massaged his sore right hand, "He made us write a whole essay in the period. Where does he even get the time to mark all of those?" Next to him Lily was also massaging her writing hand. He cheeks were puffed and her eyes frowned slightly. It was actually a arather comical look, like a little pouting puppy. Just by looking at her face Antoine could feel his sour mood lightening up. ''I guess there advantages to having her as a friend,'' he thought. "Hey, Antoine, let''s go get something to eat," Lily said, hopping out in front of him happily. ''She does switch between moods quite quickly,'' he thought. "You know I can''t afford that gold you eat for food," he answered. Lily puffed her cheeks once more. "Don''t be such a pooper! I''ve told you before that you don''t have to worry about the cost. I''m inviting you to lunch, so of course I''ll pay." "No, absolutely not. I might not be rich, but I''ll pay for my own food. If I can''t afford it, I won''t eat it. One I''ll earn enough to pay for that gold, only then will I eat it," Antoine said, puffing out his chest as if declaring some noble ideal. ''Well, that''s not really the reason. I can''t bare all those venomous stares from the other students. If looks could kill, I would be dead the moment I sat down at the same as you.'' Of course, looks would likely not be what actually killed him. He was keenly aware of the massive status gap between himself and the people who ate in the hall where Lily would no doubt take him. In the Royal Academy he wasn''t just at the bottom of the social ladder, he was the ground it stood on. How would the students all along the ladder possibly tolerate a pebble like him eating with the top step of the ladder? If he was truly to do something like that, it was most likely that his body would be found with several dozen knives sticking out of it a day later! ''No thank you, I like living quite a bit.'' This was one thing that Lily couldn''t overpower him on. His holy rule, as it were; he would not eat with her. In the three years they had known each other, he had never budged on this even once, no matter what Lily tried. She also knew this well, and though she frequently tried to get him to eat with her, she had long since given up doing any more than make the occasional invitation. "Fine, you go and eat that sludge you call food. If you change your mind, you know where to find me," she said before dashing off. "Ugh... She really is a handful." Antoine stretched once more before turning in the opposite direction Lily had left. He walked past several buildings before coming to a small park. Well, ''small'' wasn''t really the correct way to describe it. It was about a whole square kilometre. It was about the same size as his hometown, and yet it only accounted for about one twentieth of the entire surface area of the Royal Academy, excluding residences. The campus was so massive it had taken Antoine two whole months to familiarise himself with the various building he had to go to on a regular basis, and those were spread over just a third of the entire academy. He still didn''t know the first thing about the other two thirds. After about ten minutes of walking, the park stretched out in front of him. The park was a beautiful, and perfectly maintained, but hardly anyone ever used it. It was the perfect place for someone who stood out like a sore thumb, namely him, to find a respite from everyone and everything.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Antoine sighed, and entered the park. He walked about two hundred metres into the park before he neared the spot he usually had his lunch at. However, instead of the usually empty bench, he found someone sitting on it this time. It was an old man. Antoine approached the bench from behind. He circled it at a distance of about ten metres until he could see the old man''s face. Indeed, the face had decades written on it. The old man was at least seventy years old, quite possibly more. His skin was pullled down by gravity, leaving deep wrinkles on his face. His hair was copletely white, even his eyebrows were white. He had a slight stubble on his face. His face was very friendly, though. He had a slight sile on it that appeared as though it had been carved by a mason into a mountainside. It seemed to be as old as the man himself. Antoine felt that the smile must have weathered everything the man had lived through right alongside him. "Hello there, young man," the old man greeted suddenly. Antoine jumped slightly. Truthfully, he had begun to wonder if the man was a wax statue. He hadn''t seen the man breathe since he had first laid eyes on him, so the sudden greeting caught him off guard and surprised him. The old man smiled at his surprise and patted beside him on the bench. "Don''t worry, unlike most old people, I don''t bite," he said amusedly. Antoine stared at him for a moment, baffled by his sense of humour. ''MOST old people don''t bite, you know,'' he tsukkomi''d in his mind. He sat down beside the old man, none-the less. "It''s fine to eat, I don''t mind," the old man said, unperturbed by the fact that antoine had yet to greet him or introduce himself as was appropriate for a junior to do. The words snapped Antoine out of his stupor. "I-I''m sorry. I''m being very rude. My name''s Antoine." "Hello, Antoine. You can call me Mister Mika," the old man answered. "Mika? It''s a rare name, Uncle." "So I''ve heard," was the simple answer. Antoine looked at him for a few more momens before he shrugged his shoulders and unpacked his lunch. It was as Lily had said, a simple sealed bowl of cold soup. It wasn''t very tasty, but it had all the nutrition he would need, and most important of all, it was cheap. Antoine''s scholarship gave him a small allowance, but it wasn''t much compared to how the academy priced most of the things its stores and vendors sold. Antoine kept an eye on the old man as he took a sip from his bowl, but the old man did nothing. A few sips later the old man couldn''t hold himself back, and smiled. "What''s so funny?" Antoine asked in an irritated, yet respectful manner. One never knew who one could meet in the Royal Academy. He had to be especially careful, since a solitary old man like the one sitting beside him, all alone, was likely to be some eccentric noble. If he angered the old man, he might just end up the first Royal Academy student in its (admittedly short) history to be jailed and executed. "Oh, nothing much, really. I just find your way of eating refreshing," the old man said. ''Sure enough, he is an eccentric noble,'' Antoine thought. "Refreshing?" he asked. "Yes. Most of the nobles are so concerned with etiquette and image that they completely forget about the simplest truth about eating and food." "And that is?" "To feed your body. If possible, food should also be enjoyed, but the most basic function of food is to serve as fuel for the body. Similarly, the simplest function of eating is to put food into one''s body. All those convoluted etiquettes regarding what knife and fork to use when, when to eat what, what dish should be eaten first, what dishes should be served together... They all are completely superfluous in the end. What does it really matter? Besides making food that is tasty and enjoyable, one should primarily be concerned with making sure that one has everything one needs to keep oneself well-fed and healthy. Everything else is just a luxury." Antoine stared at the old man blankly. How on earth did he, a noble, understand the basic function of food? Nobles only ever ate as enjoyment. They had never suffered through hunger or hardship. THey''d never had to live off the most basic of meals. They could eat as much as they wanted, and if they got sick from not eating right, they could afford to have a healer come to their mansion and heal them. What did they know about eating healthily and making to have a balanced diet? The old man smiled again. "I know what you''re thinking. ''What does an old noble like me know about hardship and hunger, how could I know about eating healthily, and appreciate the basic function of food and eating'', right?" Antoine couldn''t help but nod. "How about i tell you a story?" the old man asked, "You don''t have to worry about missing your class, I''ll explain everything to your lecturer, they''ll understand." Again, Antoine couldn''t help but nod. "Ah, let''s see, this was many years ago. What has it een, fifty-three, fifty-four years?" he began. Chapter 7 - Extraordinary Skills of a Foreign Origin ¡°Alright, that¡¯s good, you¡¯re done.¡± Don said, staring at the results recorded on his record sheet. ¡°Already?¡± Michael asked. ¡°Yes. You can go wipe off at the pool over there, I¡¯ll hand in your results in the meantime. When you¡¯re done head to the counter, they should have your recommendation ready by then.¡± Michael bowed to Don slightly. ¡°Thank you for your hard work!¡± he said before heading off to the pool to wipe off the sweat. ¡®My, even this is so realistic! I feel sticky and completely covered in dust,¡¯ Michael thought. Don watched him walk away, and looked down at the record sheet in his hand. ¡®How is this possible?¡¯ he thought, ¡®He¡¯s no more than sixteen years old. He doesn¡¯t seem particularly muscular at all, nor did it seem like he was trying his utmost during the assessments, but his scores are like this¡­ He could easily match up to a knight in the middle his prime; a warrior trained from birth in the arts of the sword and the saddle.¡¯ Michael, completely oblivious to the worries and wonders of his assessor, wiped himself clean at the pool. The water was crisp and cold. He felt completely refreshed when it was over. Following his clean-up, he donned his shirt once more and headed into the building. He recalled the twists and turns they had followed to reach the rear exit of the building, inverted them, and followed the path back to the reception desk. He found the receptionist waiting for him at the door. ¡°Please follow me,¡± she said and headed for the stairwell without giving him any explanation. Michael followed, a little puzzled at her sudden curtness. It wasn¡¯t that she wasn¡¯t impolite, but he sensed that she no longer had the same enthusiasm for conversation she had had earlier. The enthusiasm seemed to have turned into determination, but determination for what, he didn¡¯t know. The pair rose up the floors of the building, passing by level after level. They proceeded at quite a brisk pace, which left Liscia ¨C if he remembered correctly, that was what Don had called the receptionist ¨C slightly out of breath by the time they reached the top floor. Michael, on the other hand, had lost barely a single percent of his stamina. Liscia stopped for a moment to catch her breath at the top of the stairs. Before continuing down the hallway. They had rose up a total of 5 levels, with two flights of eleven stairs for every level, Liscia had climbed a total of a hundred and ten stairs in the last two minutes. When Michael did the math, he couldn¡¯t help but think, ¡®No wonder she was out of breath. If this was back in the real world, I would be lying on the floor already!¡¯ Liscia stopped in front of the last door in the hallway. ¡°Wait here,¡± she said, before opening the door, stepping through, and closing it again behind her. Having little choice, Michael leaned against the wall and waited. Barely a minute had passed before the door opened. ¡°Come in,¡± Liscia said. Her voice was serious. The tone had been completely absent from her when they had first met, and now, the tones that suffused her voice when they had first met, were completely absent as well; the one had replaced the other. She stood aside to allow Michael to step through, and so he did. He found himself in a small office on the other side of the door, which Liscia closed behind him. The office was moderately sized; it was about five by four metres, a total of twenty square metres. At the other end of the office was a desk. In front of it were two chairs, and behind it sat a comically muscular man. From his looks, the man was likely in his late forties to early fifties. He had greying hair. An impressive moustache covered nearly a third of his face, which was itself also greying. His clothes were simple, though clearly of high quality. He wore a simple dark grey blazer-like jacket, underneath which was a white shirt. Michael couldn¡¯t see his pants. The old man looked at him. His eyes spoke of a deep interest, and a sizeable portion of caution laced with suspicion, though no hostility swam in them. The man motioned to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Michael walked up to the desk and took his seat. Liscia waited until he was seated before taking the remaining seat. The old man lifted a piece of paper, which he scanned for several awkward moments. His finger traced where his eyes were focusing. Every now and again his finger would halt, and he would look up from the sheet at Michael for a moment, before returning to the sheet. This process continued for about two minutes before the old man put the sheet down, leaned back in his seat and sighed deeply, as if giving up on something.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°Excuse my rudeness in making you wait, but I was just looking through some information,¡± the old man said. His voice was rather deep, almost husky and quite coarse. Michael shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s no problem, sir. My name is Michael.¡± ¡°My name is Dargo, and this lady sitting beside you is Liscia. As you know she is our guild headquarters¡¯ receptionist, and as you no doubt have surmised by now, I am the guild¡¯s guildmaster.¡± ¡°A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Guildmaster,¡± Michael answered, bowing his head lightly. ¡°Please, Mr. Dargo is fine.¡± Michael nodded. ¡°I have to say, Michael, your test results are quite something.¡± Dargo¡¯s eyes scanned Michael¡¯s face intently as he said so. ¡°I will have to take your word for that, Mr. Dargo, I haven¡¯t seen the results yet.¡± ¡°Surely one should know one¡¯s own capabilities, right?¡± ¡°This may sound strange, Mr. Dargo, but I honestly am not too sure what my capabilities are. That¡¯s why I chose to take the assessment in the first place rather than just choose a professions.¡± ¡°That does make sense¡­¡± Dargo said. He scratched the stubble on his chin as if contemplating something. ¡°Honestly, Michael, we¡¯ve never seen results quite like this.¡± Michael wasn¡¯t too surprised. He was supposed to be one of the heroes in this world, naturally his capabilities would be far higher than the natives¡¯. What he didn¡¯t understand, however, was why the developers had coded such a scene. The standard in most games was that the player wasn¡¯t the first of his kind to exist in the world. Usually the existence of others such as the player were already well-established within the lore, so no such surprised and suspicious reactions should be seen from the NPCs. ¡®Ah, well, this is supposed to be a completely new direction for game like this, something new, different and novel,¡¯ Michael brushed it off. Michael reminded himself of the very stern request that the beta-testers never break character. And responded in the way he felt was most in-character. ¡°Results such as what, Mr. Drago?¡± ¡°Well, the results themselves aren¡¯t anything extraordinary, we¡¯ve seen many people with stronger results than this. What makes these results so extraordinary, is the person who produced them.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Michael asked, somewhat confused. ¡°You are but a sixteen year old. You¡¯ve only just become an adult. You have quite a light physique, with no signs of extensive physical training. And yet your results are that which an above-average knight, who was raised with the sword and saddle would produce. I¡¯m sure you can understand our surprise.¡± Michael gazed at the old man for a moment. Truly, such results were out of the ordinary. Though he still had yet to see the exact numbers, based on the fact that they said it was equal to an above-average knight, it should mean that he had demonstrated excellent reflexes, great strength, and decent speed. There was no test for tactical and strategic thought, nor for awareness, which meant that he couldn¡¯t know if those stats were of a similar grade either. However, considering his character¡¯s age, physique, and history, there was no doubt that he shouldn¡¯t be able to demonstrate such ability. ¡®So they¡¯re expecting an explanation from me. No doubt someone who demonstrates such ability, especially when they are not supposed to be able to, would arouse considerable suspicion. If I understood the background information provided on the lore of the world, the entire continent should be rife with war, preparation for it, or schemes to bring about more. In such a climate it would be no surprised if I¡¯m thought of as a spy or informant. ¡®Hmm¡­ This puts me in quite the bind. I¡¯m supposed to not break character, which means I¡¯ll need to provide them with a lore-true and acceptable explanation.¡¯ Michael rubbed his head in his mind. ¡®Ahh, what the heck is this? The developers have really put me in a difficult situation. Why on earth would they do this? This is just unreasonable.¡¯ ¡°I can¡¯t explain why my results would appear to be so extraordinary. In my hometown my abilities are but average, so I¡¯d never thought I was much of anything special. I¡¯m just as surprised as you that my abilities are apparently rather uncommon.¡± ¡®This isn¡¯t the ideal answer, it opens up a whole other can of worms, a bunch of other questions I¡¯ll need to answer, but it should give me a bit of breathing room to figure things out, so it¡¯ll have to do.¡¯ Dargo remained silent for a few moments before posing his next question. ¡°That sounds quite fantastic. A whole town filled with people of such strength? Certainly they must be quite famous, where exactly are you from?¡± ¡®A, there it is,¡¯ Michael thought. Lickily, he had used the few moments of respite provided by Dargo¡¯s considerations to formulate a story to explain the main points of questioning. ¡°It¡¯s quite far to the east of here. It took me three years of non-stop travel just to reach here from there.¡± Three years of non-stop travel should put the place well outside of any reasonable range of information exchange. In fact, it would put it well outside the known boundaries of the map. It would be reasonable for no one to have heard anything about a place so far away. There remained just a few other points of questioning. ¡°If your home is so far away, what made you take on such a long journey? You¡¯re sixteen now, and if you¡¯ve truly travelled for three years, that means you were just thirteen when you set out.¡± Michael had been anticipating the question. ¡°Honestly, looking back now, the answer is quite childish, then again, I was but a child back then. I don¡¯t claim to be much more now, but my journey has taught me a few things. The reason for my taking on the journey was wanderlust. I grew up on the tales of adventure and glory that were passed down amongst my people. Like almost any other child, I had the dream of becoming someone who would have such stories told about them; unlike most other children, however, I actually got the chance to do just that, and took it.¡± ¡°Hoh, you¡¯re quite the lucky child then!¡± Dargo said. Most of the suspicion flowed out of his eyes at the answer. They seemed to say, ¡®I know the feeling, my damn kid is just like that¡¯. Dargo took up the sheet and scanned it over once more before smiling. ¡°You have average strength, but your reflexes and agility are quite high, your sense of balance is impeccable, and it seems you even have quite a bit of affinity for magic.¡± Dargo interpreted the data on the sheet, ¡°All in all, you would be best suited to either being a scout or assassin.¡± Chapter 8 - Suspicions and Stationary Vegetables Liscia watched the kid called Michael leave the guildmaster''s office, then turned to the guildmaster. On the desk in front of him lay the kid''s registration forms. The child had chosen ''assassin'' as his profession. "Why did you accept the kid? His story is clearly a lie," she asked. Dargo didn''t answer her immediately. Instead he scratched the stubble growing from his chin a few times. He stood up and walked to the window behind him, and looked out over the training yard from which the kid had come not too long ago. "Tell me, Liscia, how common is it to find someone, a child, to be precise, with the skills of a well-trained knight?" he asked finally. Liscia pondered for a moment. "Exceedingly rare," she answered. "Indeed," Dargo replied, "Whether he is telling the truth or not, isn''t really of any concern. He is a wildcard, and a dangerous one at that. If he is telling the truth, then there exists a people with considerably more power than us. Even if he is lying, his own strength and potential is not something we can easily overlook. Either way, honest or lying, it is better for us to tie him down. We are a guild loyal to the royal family. If he registers as one of us, we can control him to some degree, perhaps even influence him and turn him into another loyal subject of the crown. If he''s an enemy spy, then we can keep a closer eye on him. No matter what the situation, it''s better to keep him close than to let him roam free and unchecked. A dog, whether friendly or hostile, peaceful or violent, is better kept on a leash. Liscia nodded at the monologue. ''The Guildmaster certainly was the right pick for the job. He is far more capable and far-seeing than any of us.'' She gave Dargo a slight bow, and left to return to her post. Dargo continued to stare out of the window at the training guildsmen. ''So, young Michael, what will you turn out to be: a loyal pet, or a rabid mutt?''
Michael left the Devil''s Cry guildhall and proceeded down the street once more. The sun had climbed to its zenith, and would soon begin its slow decent to the western horizon. The streets were not as full as they had been early in the morning. No doubt everyone was avoiding the midday heat. Michael, however, being a player, an individual with stats greater than that of the average individual, and with only the most tenuous connection to this world, didn''t feel any discomfort. He marched down the street, taking in every brick and tile, every pavement stone and tree that he passed. The world was vivid, at least as far as sight and sound went. The immersion caskets that were used to connect him into the matrix couldn''t handle all the processing or data exchange necessary for all the senses, and so only sight and sound were fully emulated. The various elements of touch - such as heat, pressure, and texture - taste, and smell were only rudimentarily emulated. He knew he was touching something, that he was smelling or tasting something (which a silent voice would whisper more detail on into his subconscious), or whether the air or an object was hot or cold, but beyond that, nothing. He couldn''t feel texture, he couldn''t actually taste anything, he just instinctively knew what he was tasting (thanks to the voice) or smelling. It was a lacklustre experience compared to reality, but it was dozens of times more immersive and complete than what had been available, or indeed possible, previously. Michael had no idea how the developers of Cosmos Gate had been able to do it. He had some rudimentary IT training in highschool, enough to code a few simple programmes, and understood how the basics of information processing worked, and he couldn''t even gain a simple glimpse. He remembered reading the various debates that those more technologically educated had had on the internet on whether Cosmos Gate''s claims were hoax. Half of the world said it was impossible to deliver what they were promising to, and the other half was sept into speculating how they might have done it. Of course, when Cosmos Gate would finally be released to the public, they would all be silenced. Michael had understood this the moment he set foot in this world. Ah, he couldn''t wait to make and post his first impressions video online. He was going to enjoy watching the doubters vanish into their little safe-spaces. Michael arrived back at the marketplace. It too, was slightly less crowded than it had been when he first passed through. It was still, however, busy enough to be comparable to how the streets had been in the morning. He walked slowly this time, stopping at every other stall to look at their wares. Last time he had been in a hurry to register, but now he was in no rush. He had kept an eye on the clock. About five hours had passed in Cosmos Gate, but the clock registered the passage of only half an hour in the real world. This meant that Cosmos Gate ran ten times faster than the real world. He would be able to spend the whole day here before his three hours were up. ''Great. I should be able to finish my first round of shopping, and maybe even get a hunt in before having to log off!'' He continued meandering from stall to stall for about another hour before he found the first shop that managed to pique his interest beyond wanting to give it a passing tour. The shop was located at the edge of the marketplace. The marketplace itself was a large paved plaza. The wooden stalls split the plaza into a series of intricately connected lanes. Very few of the lanes led to the sides of the plaza, but none ended in dead-ends either. Truly this was the bane and beauty of organically evolved networks. They were chaotic, and yet beautifully functional at the same time. Stalls weren''t ordered, nor grouped in any form, but simply stood as they had cropped up. You could find food stands next to jewellery shops, pottery makers next to poultry peddlers, and everything in between.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. One particular pair of shops made Michael instinctively wince. A poultry peddler stood directly next to a tailor on the one side, and a textiles merchant on the other. Of course he could only know that the smell wasn''t pleasant from the input he received from the immersion casket, but his real life knowledge of the stench of poultry faecal matter readily filled in the blanks. He couldn''t help but wonder how many times he would have to wash the clothes before the stench would be gone, had this been the real world. ''Were middle Age and earlier people content with smelling like poultry?'' he thought, ''Well, the alternative was smelling of sweat, so I guess smelling fowl was a refreshing change.'' The shop that had caught his interest was located in one of the buildings that marked the end of the edge of the plaza. It specialised in selling stationary. ''This certainly isn''t the kind of thing you''d expect to be sold in a shop, not in the era depicted in Cosmos Gate. Then again, this is supposed to be a very rich and thriving mercantile city, so there shouldn''t be a shortage of wealthy patron of the shop.'' Michael had to admit, he was quite the history buff. He had spent his formative years immersed in history books, and old-school ''television'' documentaries about every topic of history imaginable. When others were enjoying archons (1), he was reading actual physical books about the political structures and systems in ancient societies, or books on primitive barter and exchange economies. He had once even delved into a book called ''A Brief History of Water Supply and Sanitation'' (2). He was quite proud of the fact that he had a personal library the size of most town libraries in the late 20th century. Given his intense interest in history, he was quite interested to see what stationary this world was using. He unhesitatingly stepped through the door into the ill-lit interior of the shop. All around him were shelves and shelves of utensils. From what looked like charcoal sticks to something approximating what he understood to be ''pencils'', nearly everything imaginable that could be made without industrial era machinery was present. He was surprised, however, to find that when it came to writing surfaces, this world was rather primitive. He could find only two kinds of writing surfaces: parchment and something similar to bamboo scrolls. During the course of his wanderings, he saw several other customers enter and leave the shop. They were all met or seen off by some staff member or other. He, however, was paid no attention to. He surmised it had to be due to his simply clothing. He was wearing a simple, thin-wire woollen tunic, and trousers. The tunic was a dull, dry bamboo colour, and hung down to just beneath his hips. His trousers were the colour of dirt. They were tied to his waist by a thin hemp rope - probably the most expensive thing on his person besides his coins - that ran down to his feet, which were covered by leather shoes. It was more accurate to describe his ''shoes'' as beast skin bags covering his feet. Despite their appearance, his clothes were clean and felt new. His appearance, however clean, was that of a country bumpkin, barely higher on the social pecking order than a beggar, certainly not someone with the education to use stationary, much less the financial capabilities to purchase them. It was already to the credit of the shop''s staff that they didn''t directly chase him out. Michael didn''t dally. Whilst he was very interested in the utensils being used, and whilst he did technically have enough money to make a purchase, he had limited funds, and other priorities to spend them on first. He was of a mind to return at a later date, and made a mental note of the location of the store. He continued down the edge of the plaza to its easternmost corner, where he found a small, run-down yet clean vegetable shop. They sold the food of commoners: cabbages, potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and wheat. The shop was manned by a young girl, probably around thirteen years old, and a slightly older lady, probably in her late twenties or just over thirty. "Go''af''ernoon!" the girl greeted him cheerfully. Her voice was quite powerful, and she had certainly not hesitated in using it. He was still over ten metres away from the shop when she greeted him. ''I suppose this is part of the business of this era,'' Michael thought. The shops of the poorer demographics didn''t have the luxury of simply waiting around for customers, and often actively - and quite literally - pulled customers aside and into the shop. Some of the more belligerent shops even badgered their victims and refused to let them leave - under politer pretexts - until they had bought something. Michael, however, had been meaning to buy something from the shop in any way, so he continued unperturbed towards the shop. "Good afternoon," he returned her greeting once he was close enough to reply at a polite volume. "Geeze, you''al''migh''y fine for a poor blo''on''you?" she asked. Michael was completely oblivious to what exactly she had tried to say, but mere moments later that same voice that would whisper details into his subconscious, informed him what exactly she had rambled. "Well, there, young lady, i didn''t know my speech was so abnormal," he replied. "Well i'' sure''s. I ain''ne''er hear some''n say''em wor''s lie you ''lessay''e some no''le," she replied dismissively. The elder woman gave her a slight slap on the back of her head, which she followed up with a stern stare, before giving Michael a slight nod of her head. "I''am mos''sorry for me daugh''er''s ru''e be''aviour." The woman was slightly more understandable, and quite a bit more mannered. Though Michael couldn''t quite shake the feeling that she had misunderstood his situation somehow. ''Maybe she thinks I''m some minor noble or high class merchant travelling incognito?'' "It¡¯s no problem, ma''am. I will be heading out on a hunting trip for a few days, and I''m looking to buy some vegetables. Would you, by any chance, be able to make any suggestions?" ''I don''t really need her advice on what to buy for such a trip, but it helps a lot to make people feel like you value their opinion and input. This should help me get a better price.'' The woman''s eyes lit up and her cheeks reddened somewhat. She spun around on her heals and grabbed several handfuls of vegetables from several different baskets behind her, stuffed them in a couple of woollen bags and swung them into his hands. It all happened so fast that he could barely see what exactly she had stuffed into the bags. He did see potatoes in the mix, however. A few minutes later the woman confirmed his suspicion. "''Welve earh a''les, a hea''o leaf, an'' a ba''o san''grain. Tha''ll''e four co''ers." ''And just like that she''s incomprehensible as well...'' At least Michael got the part about the whole lot being four coppers, even without the voice whispering at him. He decided to defer to her judgement on the items being enough for his ''few days'''' hunting trip. He took out the four coppers from his small pouch of coins and paid her. "Have a goo''ay, seh," the woman said, bowing slightly this time. The little girl simply stared at Michael. Seeing her failure to copy the older woman''s gesture, she slapped the girl and pushed her into a bow as well. "Ma! Why''you sla''me lie tha''?¡± the girl protested. The two spiralled into an incomprehensible dialogue that Michael had no energy to try and decipher, so he simply smiled at the two in return and left. Chapter 9 - Charles Michael tied the two bags of vegetables to one another, hung them around his neck, and moved on to the next shop on his list. He found the shop a few stalls further down along the side of the plaza. It sold backs, backpacks and other related items. From it he bought a big backpack, two pairs of wooden sandals, and other essentials such as a piece of fabric with which to make a small one-man tent, and a thick woollen blanket. The first pair consisted of three parts of wood, one flat piece on which the foot rested, and two pieces that protruded from it towards the ground. The foot was held in place by three straps. The first two were secured at one end to the forward vertical piece of wood through the flat piece. They curled around and secured to the sides of the horizontal piece of wood about two thirds of the way back. The third strap emerged from the back of the flat piece of wood, where both ends were secured, and went around the ankle. Together the three straps kept the sandal firmly attached to the foot and prevented any tripping. The second pair was like the first, but the bottom edges of the two vertical pieces of wood were covered in soft animal skin. It reduced noise, and allowed one to move around silently. Right next to the shop was a tailor which also specialised in clothing for hunters, adventurers and others of the outdoor professions. From there he bought some rugged clothes as well as a cloak to help keep the rain and cold off him. All of these were neatly folded and packed into his backpack. The merchants stared at him as he did so. "I didn''t know you could fit so much into a backpack, and look, there''s even some space left!" the shop assistants whispered at the back of the shop. Michael soon set off once more. He asked the guards at the entrances to the plaza for directions, and left the plaza behind. He headed towards the outskirts of the city. The plaza was about a third of the way towards the city centre from the city wall. It took him two thirds of an hour to reach the eastern edge of the city. About a five-minute walk from the eastern gate to the city, in a side street, was a small shop. The sound of metal hammering metal constantly reverberated from the rear of the building, and a slight trace of smoke rose into the sky unceasingly. Michael stopped at the shop, looking at the entrance for a moment before stepping through the doorway into the shop. THe inside was lined with metal weapons and tools of every imaginable size, shape and function. There were sickles, rakes, knives, axes, warhammers, swords, great axes, and a selection of iron-tipped arrows. They weren''t of the greatest make, however. The iron had a dull-grey appearance, and the colour wasn''t consistent. The metal was hammered roughly, and the edges were uneven. This was, however, still okay for Michael''s use. Despite all their shortcomings, there was one thing about these tools and weapons that was crucial: they were dirt cheap. After buying everything he needed, Michael was dirt poor. He barely had enough money to buy a short sword, a knife, a single quiver''s worth of arrows, and a simple hunting bow. After that he would only barely have enough to pay the city entrance fee upon his return from his hunting trip. A young buy, just barely into his tweens emerged from the dark depths of the shop. He had dark brown hair, eyes the colour of dirt, and a red complexion. Michael couldn''t decide whether his colour was due to constant exposure to the heat of the furnaces, or if it had something to do with his genes. "Afternoon, sir. How can I help you?" the boy asked. Michael, having just recently emerged from the encounter with the two ladies, was struck by the boy''s proper pronunciation. The kid also had quite good manners, at least that was Michael''s impression given his surroundings. He gave the kid a slight bow of his head before he answered. "Afternoon. I would like to buy a few weapons." "What do you want to buy?" "I''m going to go hunting, and I''m looking to kit myself. I think a butcher''s knife, a short sword, and a quiver of arrows would do nicely."Stolen story; please report. "At once, sir." The boy turned to the shelves. He rummaged through them a little longer than Michael thought would be necessary to get the items before returning with a knife and a short sword. "What bow are you using, sir?" the boy asked. "I haven''t bought a bow yet," Michael answered honestly. The boy remained silent for a moment before putting the items down on the counter. "Follow me," he said before leaving the shop. Michael followed and the boy led him around two corners in rapid succession. A few buildings down the road he stopped at a shop with several bows hung from the ceiling and adorning the walls. "Uncle Farn!" the boy shouted as he walked into the shop. "What is it, Charles? This is the second time today you''ve come to bother me!" a strong, cracking voice emerged from the rear of the shop. "Don''t be so rude, Uncle Farn. I''ve brought a customer this time." The man''s face instantly crawled into a smile at the latter of the two sentences. "Well well, you finally bring something other than trouble with you. Let''s have a look." The man wobbled up to Michael and stared at him for a few moments. "Hmm... You''ll want a compound bow. Let me get one for you," he turned around and disappeared into the darkness once again. "What''s your budget?" his voice came out of the darkness shortly after. "Six bronze," Michael answered. "Six bronze, heh?" Michael heard the sound of wood bumping against wood for several seconds before the man wobbled into view once again. In his hand, he held a one metre long bow. "There you go. You look like you''re going hunting. With a well-placed shot and the right arrow-head this bow can take down anything short of a bear in one shot. Be sure to bring it back for maintenance frequently, though, otherwise you''ll break it in less than a year." Michael thanked him, handed over the coins, and returned to the smithy with the boy, whom he now knew was named Charles. ''It''s quite a peculiar name for someone of his social class,'' Michael thought, but he didn''t comment on it. Once the two had returned to the shop, Charles handed him the weapons he had put on the counter before they left. He headed for the shelves once more and returned shortly after with a quiver of crude arrows. They were simple leaf-tip arrows. "I would normally recommend the barbed arrows, they kill better, but I can see you''re short on money and these are easier to retrieve and reuse, so they''re more cost effective." "Thank you," Michael said, sincerely. "That''ll be four bronze for the sword, a bronze for the quiver of arrows, and another bronze for the butcher''s knife, six bronze all-together." The price was almost exactly as Michael had predicted. He took out seven bronze and handed it toCharles. "That''s too much, sir," Charles said, holding out the extra bronze. "It''s to thank you for all your help," Michael answered, pushing the coin back into Charles'' hand. His eyes lit up and he gave Michael a bow. "Thank you so much!" Michael stepped out into the street and began walking away. Charles stood behind and waved him off. Michael stopped after several steps and looked back at Charles over his shoulder. "We''ll see each other again soon," he said smiling. He waved at Charles once before setting off.
A tall and sturdy man entered the shop from the rear. He wore a leather apron covered in soot. It was hard to tell where the apron ended and he began; the soot covered the rest of his body as well as it did the apron, turning everything into the same black. He clapped his hands to rid himself of some of the soot before wiping the on his apron and clapping them once more. He only stopped when his hands had turned from pitch black to dark grey. Satisfied with the cleanliness of his hands, he sat behind the counter and counted the coins Michael had paid with. "Six bronze. Today has been a good day so far," he said, looking at the coins as a mother would her children. "Let''s go get lunch. The maintenance work is finished ahead of schedule, so we have some free time," he said, looking at Charles, who still had an irrepressible, beaming smile on his face. He held the single bronze in his hands very tightly. "Thanks, Uncle Bort," Charles answered. He ran to the back of the shop, put away his apron, cleaned his arms and face, and came back to the front a few minutes later. He found Bort recounting the coins once again. "You have any idea of the origins of that man?" Bort asked after he noticed Charles had returned. "No idea, Uncle Bort. He sounds like either a rich merchant, or a minor noble, but neither is possible. They''re all way too arrogant and image crazy to go around town looking like that," he answered with some disdain in his voice. His expression softened slightly when he spoke next. "That man is much kinder. I don''t detect any hidden agendas from him. He seems completely sincere, and friendly." "Well, well. It looks like little Charles had found himself an idol!" Bort laughed. "What nonsense are you spewing? Is it wrong for me to acknowledge someone else''s good character when I see it every other year?" "Yeah, yeah. Just don''t start daydreaming while you''re working. It would be bad for business if you lost a hand. Besides, how would I explain his son becoming one-handed under my watch to your father?" Bort said as he wobbled out of the shop. He vanished through the doorway. Charles looked at the bronze coin in his hands for a few moments, sighed, put it away, and followed Bort. Chapter 10 - The Veil Falls Michael arrived at the eastern city gate just as the sun was about a third of the way through its descent to the western horizon. "Afternoon, sir," he greeted one of the guards at the gate. "Afternoon," the guard answered. "I''m going to be leaving the city for a hunting trip. Is there a permit I need to purchase or something of that sort for my entry afterwards?" The guard looked him over once or twice. When he saw Devil''s Cry''s badge where it hung, pinned to Michael''s chest, his expression relaxed. "You must be a new member of the guild. Devil''s Cry members automatically have pass to enter and leave the city. So you don''t have to worry. Just make sure your badge is visible and you won''t have any issues at any of the gates either here, or at any of the neighbouring cities." ''How convenient,'' Michael thought, ''However, I''m fairly certain you wouldn''t just give free pass for entry and exit to all the members of just any guild. Exactly what kind of relationship does Devil''s Cry have with the city and its rulers?'' Michael thanks the guard and passed through the gate. It was quite large, at least wide enough for three carriages to pass through side-by-side with some room to spare, and tall enough for three men to stand on each other''s shoulders, and still be unable to touch the ceiling. The landscape outside was breath taking. Michael had caught a glimpse of it through the gate on his way here, but seeing everything stretched out in front of him was like having seen the sky from the bottom of a well for his whole life, and climbing out of the well for the first time. The view through the gate just didn''t do the full scene justice. The landscape was a green mat which rolled gently from hill to hill. Forests dotted the landscape and covered the peaks of the most distant hills. A snake of tress also coiled through the landscape in between the hills, likely hiding a stream or small river within. It was early summer, and the second round of crops covered the hills closest to the city wall in bright, green waves. The hills from about halfway to the horizon and beyond were covered in green grass. Small groups of white and brown dots could be seen grazing on those hills. The hills just visible beyond the curve of the walls to the north were covered in vineyards, whilst to the south a wide, white, paved road burst into view from behind the wall, presumably from the southern gate, and extended southward. About two thirds of the way to the horizon it split in two; one of the branches continued south, while the other headed west, vanishing once more behind the curve of the city''s walls. The road on which Michael was, whilst also neatly paved, wasn''t nearly as wide as the one that could be seen to the south. The roads appeared relatives newly paved, probably no more than twenty years ago. The stones were somewhat worn in lines where the most wagons'' wheels ran, but they hadn''t started cracking or weathering. It was clear they were well maintained as well, as no plants could be seen bursting through at the seams between the stone slabs. The scene wasn''t exactly what Michael had imagined. There wasn''t a single large forest nearby, only smaller thickets on some hills and along the river. It would be at least two days'' travel to reach a large forest, which was likely beyond the horizon further to the east. Michael had some extra money, however, thanks to not having to pay entrance fees at the gates, so he hired a carriage to take him to the nearest big forest. "You''re heading out on a hunt? You''re a bit young to be going at it in your own, aren''t you?" the driver asked as he took Michael''s money. ''You ask that, but you don''t have a problem taking my money, do you?'' Michael asked under his breath. "It''s no problem, don''t worry about it. I''m more capable than you''d think," Michael pointed at his Devil''s Cry badge, "This should vouch for my abilities." "Hoh, a Devil''s Cry badge! I haven''t seen one of those in ages!" the driver said surprised, "Alright then, can''t argue with the badge. Hop on and I''ll have you out there by sunrise tomorrow!"Stolen story; please report. Michael hopped on to the carriage and it headed off. He watched the landscape slowly crawl by as the carriage trotted forward. The world''s shadows slowly grew longer, and the landscape slowly grew ever more golden. The light eventually dimmed, and Michael could see the dark of night approaching them from the front. He had initially thought they would stop somewhere for the night, but even as the darkness surrounded them, the driver showed no intention of stopping. ''He seems to be intent on keeping his word, I might really be at the forest by sunrise. Well, that wouldn''t be a bad thing. But I really should get some rest.'' Michael closed his eyes, and let a different darkness envelope him. He didn''t log out, however. Instead, a moment after his vision went dark, a pop-up menu appeared. Dear Player,it read,You are one of the lucky few whom have been chosen to experience Cosmos Gate in a whole different light. We have already contacted your family and gained their consent, so all we need is your approval to begin with the trial. Please read through the details below and tick ''yes'' if you want to take part, or ''no'' if you would like not to take part. Please rest assured that even if you choose not to take part in the trial, you will still have full access to the game, and will not be penalised in any way for opting out. We would, however, encourage you to take this once-in-a-lifetime chance! ''Cool!'' Michael thought, ''But what exactly are they planning to do that would require my family''s consent?'' The message hovered in the darkness in front of Michael for a few more moments before vanishing. It was replaced by a large body of text. The gist of the whole thing appeared to be that Michael would be one of a few dozen beta testers that would be given full access to the full capabilities of the immersion caskets. The limits on his other senses would be removed, it would be like he was truly in another world. He would also no longer be able to access to any of the user interface, nor would he be able to log off for a period of a week in real life. This meant that he would spend a full ten uninterrupted weeks in the game. He would also be under perma-death, which meant that if he died, he would be kicked from the game and his character deleted. If he took part in the trial, there were some small health risks, as such a long immersion dive had never before been attempted, at least not on this scale. However, he would receive a considerable monetary reward for agreeing to take part in the trial. ''I don''t have to do anything major for the next week. My university work is ahead of schedule, I''m not writing any tests or exams, my assignments due for the week have already been handed in... I don''t see any reason not to do it..'' Michael carefully combed through his memories to see if there was anything he might be forgetting, and read through the text several more times. Of course, the monetary reward wasn''t the only reason Michael wanted to take part in the trial. Doing something no one else had done before, or at least being part of the first group of people to do it, was a strong incentive in its own right. Michael loved the idea of adventure, of doing something new and extraordinary. ''Alright, let''s do this.'' Michael willed it, and the ''Yes'' box was ticked. The message vanished and a mass of information suddenly rushed into his mind. The world around him suddenly became far more clear. His sense of touch, smell, and taste were immediately on part with his sight and hearing. It didn''t stop there, however; once his three previously dumbed senses were on par with his sight and hearing, they all began to improve. His sight became about twice as good as it had been before, which was 20/20. His hearing became quite acute as well. His sense of touch became more profound; he could feel even the grain of the wood on which his hands rested. He was suddenly able to smell several different scents. The first to flood his nose was the scent of flowers, then that of wheat, and finally that of cow dung. The last smell made him sneeze a couple of times. It was unclear how much his taste had improved. He would have to wait until he had something to eat to find out. Michael opened his eyes and looked at the world around him. Everything was clearer than it had been before he had last closed them. The most evident change of all was that the darkness wasn''t as opaque as it had been before. Though he couldn''t say that he could see in the dark, it certainly wasn''t as much of a barrier to him as it would have been before. He should be able to see clearly for about ten metres around him, and be able to make out shapes for about twenty metres, even on a cloudy, moonless night. It felt like he had been experiencing the world through a layer of plastic before. He had been a groom whose wife had been hidden behind a veil, who had been forced to gaze at her through it. But now the bride had been unveiled and he could behold her in all her glory. The two of them had become one, truly united. Michael suddenly felt very tired, however. His eyes were quick to fall shut again, and he fell into a deep, true, slumber. Chapter 11 - A Letter in Silk and an Avenue of Heroes Antoine looked at the old man. His eyes shone partially, and yet behind their sheen was hidden slight waves of confusion. The tale the old man had told him was fantastical. It was something he had never heard before. But there were things the old man had mentioned that didn''t make any sense to him. Some of the concepts were completely foreign, and he had asked the old man repeatedly to explain them to him, which he had done with great patience, but despite that, he still didn''t understand them. The old man merely looked at him warmly and smiled. "Well, that''s all I have time for today. I should get going, I still have a few things to do. Oh, child, could you help me up?" Antoine woke from his daze. He quickly stood up and offered the old man his arm, helping him stand up. "Thank you, young man." "But what happened? You''ve only just begun the story," Antoine asked, trying futilely to hide his interest. "No time, my child, no time." The old man thought for a bit before continuing, "Tell you what. If you want to hear the rest of the story, why don''t you meet me back here in three days and then on the same day each week? I''ll tell you a bit more of the story each time." "Is it such a long story?" Antoine asked. "Indeed. Can''t you tell already? It''s an epic tale that will take a lot of time to tell. But I promise, it is worth it!" The pair reached the edge of the park, and the old man and Antoine went their separate ways. Antoine watched the old man walk towards the main building at the other end of the park. Only once the old man vanished through the doorway, and all chance of hearing any more of the tale was finally gone, did Antoine turn and head towards his next class.
"Where the hell have you been?!" Lily yelled into Antoine''s ear. Class had just ended, and everyone was leaving. The old man''s story had lasted much longer than he had expected it to; he had spent four hours listening to the story, and had ended up missing two whole classes. He rubbed his ear a few times before answering. "Sheesh, Lily... Do you want me deaf?" "You''ve been deaf for as long as I''ve known you," Lily answered dismissively, "So, where have you been?" A slight shiver ran down Antoine''s back as the last sentence emerged from Lily''s mouth. It was like being doused in cold water. Just as he was about to answer, their lecturer interrupted. "Antoine, what are you still doing here?" "I was going to explain why I missed most of the class." "No need, I''ve already been informed." The lecturer, late into his fourth decade, waved a letter in front of him. ''What? How on earth did the old man get a letter out this quickly? No one besides me came into the class after me, so the letter had to have been delivered before I arrived. But I came here straight from the park, so there shouldn''t have been time to write the letter, much less have it delivered. Mr. Platinus was also lecturing from the moment I entered the classroom. He didn''t at any point stop to read the letter, which means that he didn''t get the letter just before my arrival. The letter must have been delivered well in advance of my arrival, but that means the old man had known that he would meet me... But why would he essentially arrange to meet me, just to tell me a - admittedly intriguing - story? Antoine stared at the letter which the lecturer now had dangling at his side. His eyes widened. ''That material! The paper''s made of silkweave! That stuff is more expensive than gold of equivalent weight. Who on earth could afford to use silkweave paper just to send a small note to a lecturer about a kid late for class?!'' Antoine felt his head spin slightly. He took a few staggering steps back and fell on his rear, staring at the paper in the lecturer''s hand all the while. ''Just who is that old man?!''
Two figures stood waiting at a carriage. Their backs were stiff, their necks straight, and their arms held tightly against their sides. Their middle fingers ran right along the seams of their trousers, which was a purple line that ran down each of their sides, from shoulder, to sleeve, to shoe. Their feet were exactly beneath their shoulders, and their eyes pierced straight ahead. They wore white uniforms. The only dashes of colour were the crystals hanging on the tassels of their epaulettes, the lines running down their sides, and the crests on their chests where their hearts would be. The crests were a simple heater shield, with two crossed swords on it, a crown resting on its top, and a streamer banner curving along its bottom upon which the words "eien teom, clinkon; eien roges, shwerin" were embroidered. The motto on the streamer banner translated to "in peace, a shield; in war, a blade".This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. An old man, bent from age, exited through the door to their front, flanked on either side by two more figures in similar dress to them. As the group came closer, the two stamped their heals together, straightening their backs even more, placed their right hands over the crests on their chests, and bowed deeply. The old man smiled at them, patted the shoulder of each the closest to him, and entered the carriage. "Thank you for your hard work," the old man said as he vanished into the carriage. The two quickly stood upright once more. Two of the others who had come with the old man entered the carriage as well. The remaining two of the four closed the door and the four took their positions on the carriage. The reigns flickered in the air and the carriage took off. Behind the carriage, eight soldiers on horseback flicked their reigns as well, and followed. "Your Majesty really should stop leaving the palace with so little guard," one of the two youths in the carriage said, "It leaves Your Majesty vulnerable to attack." The old man merely waved the man''s concern aside. "Teal, I am the emperor of the Twinstar Empire. I am beloved by my people, adored by my retainers, and admired by my loyal soldiers and servants. Who would wish to bring me harm?" "Your majesty, had you yourself not said that ''in a body of people of any sizeable volume, there is bound to be great diversity''? A diversity of both the good and the bad, both the holy and the evil? Our empire stretches from the western waters to the eastern rocks, from the northern frosts to the southern sands. Our empire has nearly forty million citizens, and at least eighteen million slaves. The nobility consist of several thousand barons, nearly two hundred comtes, forty dukes, eight kings, and the threeDukes Primaire. We border six other kingdoms, eight principalities, and twelve duchies, not to mention the Lands of the Fae, the beastmen''s lands, and the desert monster tribes. Surely amongst all of them there are a few who wish harm upon you." "Yes-yes, we''ve had this conversation several times already, Teal." "And yet we keep having to have this conversation, Your Majesty." "Aghhh... Can we not just enjoy our ride back to the palace? You know very well His Majesty listens to your advice on many things, but this is not one of them," the other uniformed youth interjected. "If His Majesty listens to me on only one thing, this should be it," Teal complained, but he didn''t pursue the matter further. The carriage rolled along the streets in silence. The emperor stared out through one of the windows on either side of the carriage at the city slowly scrolling by. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and the shadows were just beginning to pick up the pace as they stretched out across the street. The streets were wide. Even the narrowest could still accommodate two carriages side-by-side, and the widest of the streets, the Avenue of the Elysian Fields, could take fourteen carriages side-by-side, it was a total of seventy paces across, including the sidepaths. "Have I told you the story of the Avenue of the Elysian Fields?" the emperor asked as the carriage turned onto the broad avenue. "I have heard the story, Your Majesty, we all learn of it in the academy. "But have I told you of it before?" Teal sighed before answering, "No, Your Majesty." "This avenue is as old as the city, and its length has increased several times since it was first constructed. It is the widest avenue in the entire city, in the entire empire, mind you, and likely there aren''t any others that can match up to it even outside of the empire. It is paved with fallen heroes, soldiers, and individuals who sacrificed themselves for the empire and its people. These fallen are cremated, and their ashes mixed in with the mortar that binds the paving stones to one another and the ground beneath them. The stones themselves are also inscribed with their names, the year they were born, the day they died, and what they died for or what they died doing. "The most interesting parts, however, are the annual even held at the end of the apollonian cycle, and the victory parades. The first is called the ''March of Remembrance''. Over the course of two weeks, pilgrims from all across the empire come to crawl the entire distance of the avenue on all fours. All the way they read the names and stories on every pavement stone they pass over. The third week of the ceremony, the final week of the apollonian cycle, the inhabitants of the capital itself make the same march. Every person, regardless of social standing, from slaves to even myself, must complete this march. The emperor looked at the stones as the carriage rolled along. "Tell me, Teal, why do we do this every year?" "It is so that we never forget those who gave up their lives for the peace and prosperity we enjoy." "Indeed. I hope to one day join them, to become another pavement stone on the Avenue of the Elysian Fields." The emperor was silent for another few minutes before continuing. "As for the victory marches, they are called ''The Victor''s Pilgrimage''. A victorious army, returning to the capital, must march along the Avenue of the Elysian Fields, always looking down to the names written on the stones. They may not look at the crowds, nor may the crowds cheer or speak with them, nor make any sounds what-so-ever, until the entire army has crossed the entire length of the avenue. The emperor turned to Teal, and looked straight at him. The weight of his gaze made Teal recoil slightly. Cold sweat began to run down the back of his neck. "Why, teal, do we have this custom?" the emperor finally asked. "S-So that those who are victorious do not forget the sacrifices they have had to make. So that they never become arrogant in their victory, but remember that there are always others who have sacrificed more, and that until their death, they have not fulfilled their duty to the empire, and to its people." "True," the emperor answered, "but you''ve forgotten something." Teal scratched his head but couldn''t think of what he had forgotten. The emperor gave him several moments to try and come up with an answer, but finally answered himself. "To remind them that it''s not just that their duty is only fulfilled with their death, but that their death itself has to serve the empire as well. Only those who die to preserve, to save, the empire and its people are interned in the Avenue of the Elysian Fields. If one is interned in the avenue, then even in death, one can still serve the empire. This is the greatest honour one can receive." Teal thought of his father, who was interned in this very avenue, and couldn''t help but nod his head. For as long as the city was inhabited, his father would be remembered, his story read and told at least once every year. To be remembered by those for whom one sacrificed oneself, to become part of the city for whom one fought and died, is truly the greatest honour. It was the dream of every child, and indeed of every soldier and citizen of the empire, to die in such a way as to be interned in the Avenue of the Elysian Fields. Such a death was a sacred, holy thing. ''I''m in no rush to be interned there. I would rather live a long life, for every day I am alive, is a day more that I can serve His Majesty. For me, this is enough.'' Teal looked at the old man whose gaze had once again left the carriage and returned to the stone outside. He looked at the old man''s gentle smile, his intelligent eyes, and his aged and delicate features. The emperor was an old tree which had seen the ages pass it by. He was in the autumn of his life. His leaves were ready to fall from his branches and send him into the eternal winter at any moment, but they held on, determined not to drift in the breeze until everything that was needed was done. ''My father has already earned his place in the Avenue of the Elysian Fields,'' Teal thought, ''I''ll earn my place at His Majesty''s side.'' Chapter 12 - Letters in Paste Antoine''s eyes shot open. They darted around for a moment, assessing his surroundings. He was in his room in the Asinine dorms of House Plaque, one of the male hostels for the university. He shot up off his bed. He grabbed his bathroom essentials, and moments later he was rushing into the dorm''s washing room. He scrubbed himself in a minute, rinsed off, and quickly cleaned his mouth while drying off. Less than half an hour after leaving his room he was back in it, dressing. The sun was just peaking over the hills to the east of the city when Antoine, dressed in his university uniform, rushed out of the dorm. Today was post day, and Antoine didn''t want to miss his letters. "Morning, Antoine!" one of the people along the road greeted Antoine as he darted past them. He stopped and jogged on the spot. "Morning, Mrs. Bigot!" he replied. "You''re in a hurry as always, aren''t you? "Of course! It''s post day after all, isn''t it?" "Yeah I know, well, get going and see if your parents wrote anything this time!" "On my way!" Antoine resumed his sprint and quickly disappeared into the post office. Mrs. Bigot¡¯s smile faded as she watched him vanish. "Poor child," she whispered to herself, "His parents haven''t written to him in three years, and yet, despite that, he darts by every fortnight on post day to come and see if there isn''t anything for him. Breaks my heart every time I see him puffing along." Some water gathered in Mrs. Bigot''s eyes for a few moments before she wiped them away and got back to work. Antoine burst into the post office. No one bothered to lift their heads. Antoine trotted up to the nearest desk. "Good morning. Is there anything in the post for me today?" he asked, smiling. The clerk looked at him unenthusiastically for a few moments before turning around and disappearing through the door behind her. Several minutes passed, eventually a quarter of an hour had come and gone. The clerk reappeared, waddling through the doorway lazily. "Nothing, as usual." "Oh, thank you," Antoine said, hesitantly, "maybe next time." "Yeah, maybe next time," the clerk slurred. Antoine turned around and walked towards the door. Reaching the door he reached out for the knob. Just as his fingertips touched the knob, the door suddenly burst open in his face. He was struck full-force by the door and sent staggering several steps back. After three steps his feet couldn''t keep up with him and he embedded himself in the floor. "Antoine!" the culprit behind his predicament yelled as she burst through the door. "Antoine, where the hell are you?" she yelled impatiently before spotting on the ground, "What on earth are you doing sprawled on the ground like some see urchin? Get up, man. You have post!" The energetic, ever impolite girl was Lily. ''Ah, I should have known,'' Antoine thought as he rubbed his sore nose, feeling a little hot liquid coming away with his hand, ''She''s always the one who rams the door in my face.'' "You''re the one who slammed the door into me like i was a punching sack!" he protested as he struggled to get up. "You should learn to react faster! Maybe we should start training with doors. You could be doing better in combat training anyway." "I don''t need to pass Physical Combat; I have no intention of becoming a soldier." Lily frowned, "No graduate from the Royal Academy has ever failed the physical combat course! Don''t shame the university you lazy boy!" Antoine only shook his head, there was no winning with Lily. The only thing he would accomplish by resisting would be to have her on his case for the next month. "You said something about post?" he asked, trying to draw her attention away. Lily''s eyes lit up, "That''s right!" She plunged her hand into her pocket and withdrew from it a dirty envelope, water stained and crumpled up. "I got a letter from your parents!" "What?!" Antoine yelled, "How on Gaia did YOU get a letter from MY parents?" Lily laughed, "No you idiot, it wasn''t for me, I merely happen to get it." Antoine looked at her with narrowed eyes, "And why did you get it if it wasn''t meant for you?" Lily blushed slightly. "I asked the postmen to look out for any letters addressed to you and give them to me." "And why would you do that?" "You idiot!" Lily''s cheeks were tomatoes by now, "I thought it would be more surprising to get the letters from me!" Once again Antoine shook his head. ''I''ll never understand you, Lily,'' he thought. "Well, give it to me." The letter exchanged hands. Antoine''s hands were shaking severely as he took the letter. They were shaking so badly, in fact, that he nearly dropped the letter twice while trying to open it. "We should probably get out of the doorway," he said, trying to delay reading the letter.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Lily didn''t say anything, she merely grabbed him by the hand and dragged him outside. The two went to the nearest bench where Lily plopped him down and sat next to him. "Well, are you going to read it or not?" she asked, "You seemed pretty eager when you demanded i give it to you." "I''m going to, I''m going to, stop pestering me." Antoine gulped. He turned over the letter. On the back was a simple, crumbling wax seal. He loosened it and opened the envelope. Inside, slightly water stained, were four sheets of paper, which he removed slowly. The paper was coarse in his hands. The fibres could be seen crisscrossing, clumping, and weaving together just beneath the surface of the paper. The paper was cheap, not just cheap, it was the cheapest paper out there. The moment Antoine thought this, he felt feint. Despite being cheap, several thousand times cheaper than silkweave paper, and at least three order of magnitude cheaper than the paper he had gotten used to at the university, each sheet still cost a day of his father''s salary. He held in his hands three days'' worth of his father''s work. Most commoners never saw paper. Though the mandatory education ensured that all free men could read and write, paper was ridiculously expensive. Commoners mostly never had any reason to write in the first place, and if they did, they would generally use cheap leather. Most businesses would instead use fibre scrolls. "Antoine, you''re tearing up," Lily said, leaning towards him. "Come on, you haven''t even read the letter yet," she said pouting. Antoine wiped his eyes, ''For my parents to go to such lengths. It must have taken them this long to send me a letter because they were saving up to buy the paper.'' The four sheets unfolded scrapily. Silkweave would unfold almost like fine cloth - which wasn''t an entirely incorrect description of the material - but the coarse paper still had the fold in it even after it was unfolded. Antoine had to bend it perpendicularly to the fold just to keep it from constantly folding in half again. The ink the pages were written in was smudged frequently, and parts were almost unreadable from the water damage, but Antoine managed. The four sheets made two letters, each of two pages.
My dear boy. Hey there. It''s mom. Sorry for only writing after such a long time. I had wanted to send you animal skin letters several times, but your father kept insisting that we save up for actual paper. He won''t say it, but he''s worried for you. He''s been working late nights since you left. He says it''s to save up money so we can write to you more often, but we both know it''s because being at home only reminds him of playing with you when you were little. Really, you''d think I would be the one who''d take your absence the hardest, but he''s taking it much harder than I am, even though he doesn''t show it. But enough about your father, he has his own two sheets on which he can write about himself. I miss you, son. I miss having you around to help me with the laundry early in the morning. I miss our long conversations after dark at the back of the house, how we''d stare up at the stars for hours as we chatted away. But most of all, I miss being able to walk into your room late at night and watching you sleep. I still remember those days all those years ago when you were just a baby. You had the loudest voice. You rarely cried, for which I am grateful, because when you did, you woke the entire village. You''ve been the talk of the village ever since you left, you know. Everyone''s talking about how you are the first kid in the entire province to get into the Royal Academy. Everyone''s so proud of you. Even the local common lords have been paying above market price for our produce. Of course your dad refuses to keep the extra money and instead gives it to the Du Bois, the Du Pontes, and the Vilets. Miss Du Pisane has been spreading rumour, what''s new there really? She keeps telling everyone it was all thanks to her that you managed to get into the Royal Academy, thanks to some connection she has there. of course, when anyone asks who exactly it is she knows, and how they were able to get you into the academy, she''s quick to change the subject or to remember something she forgot to do. It''s entertaining, really. I would tell you so much more, but I''m running out of paper, so i suppose this will have to do. Antoine, my little boy, please be safe. I know you''ll work really hard, that you''ll do your best and that you''ll make a success of this opportunity that heaven only know how you got. But don''t forget to take a break every now and then, okay? Make some friends - I''m certain there must be one or two good people amongst all those nobles. Enjoy the sites, heaven only know what amazing things you can see over there. Always remember: you''re my boy, my handsome, smart, hardworking boy. I love you so much Mom
Several circular blotches were next to the final words on the letter. Antoine wiped the tears from his cheeks, smiling. "Your mother sounds so sweet. She has some strange ideas about nobles, though. Aren''t commoners the ones that are mostly rotten apples?" Lily asked. Normally Antoine would have knocked her over the head by now, but he had already begun reading his father''s letter. Seeing that he had just ignored her, Lily pouted for a moment, but finally sighed and decided to read the letter as well instead. The writing on this paper was quite a bit different from Antoine''s mother''s. The former had gentle, soft writing. The letters flowed from one curve to the next like river water. The latter, on the other hand, was written as if by blade stroke. The letter looked like they had been chiseled from stone.
Son. It¡¯s your dad. It''s been a long time since you left. Things are going good on the farm. The rains have been regular and the bugs few. Harvest was particularly good last year. Everyone is gossiping as usual, though I have no time to listen to their stories, as it has always been. The village has several new families. They moved in last summer. One of the men is a carpenter, it''s high time the village got one of its own. It was getting tiring to travel two towns over just to get a chair, or to have to wait for the annual caravan and then have to fight with the others over the limited furniture they would bring. One of them joined the town guard, and the last one has rented grazing rights on my land, amongst others''. Don''t worry, the rent is good and he only grazes his flock on the lands that have recently been harvested. It¡¯s actually part of the reason First Harvest was so good this year. The animals eat the harvested land clean, and their droppings work better than just ploughing the dead plants back into the soil. Your mother misses you terribly, of course. I''ve had to spend many a night comforting her, but you know how emotional your mother''s always been. You don''t have to worry about her, though, I''m keeping an eye on her so she isn''t too sad. You don''t have to worry about your room, I''ve instructed mom to keep it just like you left it, so you can come home any time. Remember to keep working hard. I don''t want my son to get kicked out of the Royal Academy unless it''s for over achievement, you hear? Show the no good idiots in the village you''re better than them.
At the very bottom of the letter, written much smaller, and in far lighter, slower strokes than the rest of the letter, were five words.
I''m proud of you, son.
Antoine''s eyes, which had been teary from the first letter, were fountains when he read those words, and yet his smile couldn''t be larger. Chapter 13 - Blood Demon It only took the group a few minutes to find a trail of blood droplets that headed off into the forest. "Boss! We found a trail, boss!" Dawn quickly headed to where the youths called him from. "Show me." "Here." Kor pointed to the ground slightly in front of him. Slightly obscured by the rotting leaves, two distinct trails of blood could be seen on the ground. They headed off into the thick underbrush. Around one of the two trails were clear naked devil footprints. the long, slim imprints on the ground, bereft of separate the smaller imprints of toes by the footwear the devils wore were unmistakable. The second trail, however, didn''t have any clear footprints. The leaves were crushed where feet had touched the ground, that was unavoidable, but whatever had made them had stepped lightly enough to avoid leaving clear imprints. All that Dawn could determine was that something had stepped there, not what it was. "Let''s move. Keep a good spread, I don''t want us overwhelmed by whatever it is. Follow me!" The group immediately headed off. They followed the trail of blood for about forty paces before they came to the body that was the origin of the first of the two trails. The body lay slumped, as if it was a puppet that had its strings cut. The head lay about four paces from the body. The world around it was crimson. This time the sight didn''t solicit convulsions from anyone in the group, though most of them still winced and looked away. ''Good boys,'' Dawn thought, ''They''re adapting very quickly. Brother has raised a good bunch this time.'' He turned his attention to the corpse and inspected the cut. As with the others in the clearing, the cut was clean, cleaner than the cuts made by the weapons the naked devils used. "What could have done this?" Dawn asked himself out loud. There were no indications what kind of weapon could have done this. All he knew was that whatever made the cut, was wielded by something with great skill. "The blood trail ends here," Dick chimed in. The group gathered around him. Indeed, the remaining trail continued past the naked devil''s corpse for about seven more paces before halting completely. "We need to keep searching, darkfall will be here soon. If we haven''t found Migal by then, we likely won''t find him, ever," Dawn ordered. The group spread out some more, each about fifteen paces from the other, and continued in the direction the blood trail had ended. The search continued for about another hour. The sun had already vanished beneath the horizon, sinking into the underworld for its slumber, and the nightsun blared half-masse over the landscape. Curtains of silver needles hung from the treetops throughout the forest, bleaching the world to a dull grey. The group returned to the scene of the slaughter. What had been a crimson patch in the world, had turned into a hole, a space of pitch black that even the nightsun''s silver hymns couldn''t illuminate. "Anything?" Dawn asked as he watched the last of the young howlers emerge from the underbrush into the black clearing. "Nothing," they answered one after another. "Damn, I didn''t know drying blood became so thick!" Kos said as he trudged into the clearing. The hair on his back twitched with every step, and he couldn''t help but shiver every now and again. "That''s not all that turns thick as it dries, Kor, but you should know about that, shouldn''t you?" One of the group couldn''t help teasing him. No one laughed this time, however. "This isn''t good," Dick said, "I don''t care much if we find Migal or not for his sake, but finding him means we could at least solve the mystery of what killed these devils. With him gone, we''re as much in the dark as we were when we first came across this hell." Dawn scratched his head. ''What am I going to do? I can''t just leave Migal like this, his father would kill me, but I can''t risk these kids'' lives for him either...''The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. At that moment, everyone around Dawn''s eyes widened. "Uh-Uhm... Boss." "Not now," Dawn silenced. "Y-You might want to look behind you, boss." "What is it?" Dawn turned around. His eyes landed on a black mass emerging silently from the underbrush. It made little sound. The leaves, softened from the blood they had been soaking in for the past hour, didn''t crack under its paws. Had it not been for the slight rustling of the leaves as it emerged from the underbrush, no one would have heard it move. Had it not been for the whites of its eyes, circling its two pitch-black irises, no one would have seen it move. It was at once like a shadow and not. Its movements seemed disconnected from the world. Besides the slight rustle as it emerged from the underbrush, there was no other sound. Neither could the sound of breathing be heard. It felt incorporeal and undeniably solid at the same time. The absolute black of the drying blood on the ground meant that even if it cast a shadow on the ground it could not be used to judge one way or the other. The two white haloed black holes in the darkness glinted with malice and harmful intention. Everyone was frozen with fear. Even as it closed in silently, spreading like a noxious vapour towards Dawn, no one moved. Its outline could only be made out by observing what in the background it obscured as it moved closer. It was smaller than Dawn by a decent amount. Its physique was slim, but that only added to its petrifying presence. The black figure closed the distance to just under two paces from Dawn before it slowly reared, lifting itself up from the ground on two of its three rear appendages. Dawn''s gaze remained locked on the two white haloes as they slowly rose to just under eye height. The blackness beneath them parted and two rows of white glints emerged. Dawn didn''t wait to consider the familiar outline the glints created. "Run!" he yelled as he lunged forward. His yell broke the spell on the other howlers. They took off and disappeared into the night. Dawn shoved the black mass with all his might, half expecting his paws to clutch nothing but empty space. They did not, however. His felt his hands shove into what felt almost like fur before touching solid mass. The black mass was flung back several paces. Dawn made use of the opportunity to take to the night himself. As he left the clearing he stole a glance over his shoulder. What he saw baffled him. The black mass slowly rose from the ground, straightened itself out, and the two rows of white glints curved into... a smile? He only a momentary glimpse of it before the underbrush closed behind him and obscured the mass. None of the group stopped for the whole night. Even when it felt like their legs were going to burst into flames beneath them, and they could swear they smelt the sweet stench of smouldering fur, they continued on. Only when the black night was broken on the eastern horizon, when the black turned to blue and colour returned to the landscape around them did they slow to a walk. Even then they continued, however. They only stopped once the first rays of the sun hit the treetops. Dawn whistled once he saw the treetops catching sunlight. He stopped at the base of a particularly large tree. One by one the others emerged from the bush. Dawn had to fight to stop himself from jumping every time he heard a rustle in the underbrush as another howler emerged. He sighed deeply when the count returned to just one short of full. Everyone save Migal was present. "Right, that''s it, Migal is clearly dead. I''m going home!" Dick yelped softly. The others sounded their agreement; however, no one moved. Their gazes turned to Dawn, pleading for permission. He wished he could collapse to the ground and hold his head. But if his legs relaxed now, he would not be able to use them again for some time, so he remained standing. ''Is this why you said you felt lucky you didn''t have to lead a pack into the wilderness, brother?'' he thought. "Boss?" Kor urged. Dawn took a deep breath. "Alright, let''s return home. Dead or not, this matter is far more important than Migal. We have to warn the pack." The group once more began to move. They continued at a slow walk. It was not that they weren''t in a hurry to return to the shaky safety of the cave; their knees threatened to give in with each step they took They didn''t proceed directly home. If they were followed by the black monster, they couldn''t afford to lead it to their home, so Dawn intended to have them take a long detour. They would circle around to the other side of the cave before heading there. He hoped this would give them enough time to both recover their strength and hopefully lose their possible pursuer. "Do you think the pack will be able to take the monster down?" one of the group asked as they walked. "I have no idea. Naked devils are relatively weak on their own. My father told me that the only reason they were able to hunt us to near extinction is because they never face us alone. They always coordinate and work together in groups. The devils back there were clearly broken up and taken out one after another after the initial massacre. Maybe if the pack worked together, with Mallarn taking the lead we might stand a chance?" Dick answered. "Keep your focus on our surroundings," Dawn chided. It wasn''t that their attention would be able to improve their chances of detecting the monster, they were still too untrained to be able to effectively look for it, but it would keep them from speculating. Speculating regarding something you knew nothing about, and feared dearly, could only end badly. ''They''re not the thinkers in the pack in any way. It''s best I not let them hype up one another''s description of the monsters before we pass the news on to Mallarn,'' Dawn thought. He knew it was a futile endeavour. It would take them three days to return home at least, and it would be impossible to keep them from talking about it the whole time. Besides, it would probably be necessary for them to get their fear out. If it festered in their hearts it would become an internal demon. They would be scared and unable to function in the pack of that happened. Dawn clutched his chest. ''Just don''t talk about it for a little longer,'' he pleaded, ''Just let me calm down enough to remember things calmly and clearly. If you talk about it now I might show you a side that I cannot afford to show and you cannot afford to see.'' Chapter 14 - The Demon Revealed The group continued along their march for several long days. Luckily for Dawn, no one mentioned the matter again. It was as if, after an initial period of having to out their concerns, everyone came to an unspoken agreement: no one wanted to talk about that which was plaguing them. ¡°Ugh, how much longer is this going to keep up? We¡¯ve been walking for four days already. We only walked for three days before reaching that place, and that was when we were travelling casually. We spent the entire first day just running, and now its been another three days and the cave is still nowhere in sight!¡± Dick complained. The group had stopped for a short lunch break. They sat huddled between several large trees. They nibbled on the last of their rations. Their rations weren¡¯t supposed to last this long. They had originally only packed enough to last them until they reached their hunting ground. The plan was for them to eat what they hunted from there and save up for the return journey. No one had any appetite, however, so rations lasted far longer than they would have otherwise. Mostly they only nibbled on the dried meat each time, no one actually consumed more than two bites at a time. ¡°We¡¯ll be there by tonight. We should have lost any tails by now,¡± Dawn said, hopefully. No one answered, however. Only the sound of crunching dried meat could be heard. Dawn¡¯s ears suddenly perked. A moment later the rest of the group¡¯s ears also perked. There was a soft rustle in the leaves in the direction they had come from. This was the first time they heard anything but their own heartbeats, breathing, and footsteps since they took of running three days ago. Everyone froze up once more. Their heads turned, and their shivering pupils stared in the direction the sound had come. Two moments passed before another rustle could be heard, slightly louder and slightly closer than the last. Another two moments and another rustle, once again yet closer than the previous. With the third rustle everyone could see the leaves of the bush move. A black shadow parted the leaves and emerged from the darkness. Everyone shuddered. The shadow took form and became solid. In a moment it was no longer a shadow, but instead a statue. A mass of moving, black rock. Its surface was riddled with cracks out from which spilled dark grey fur. The black mass moved towards the group. Everyone gulped but no one dared to move. Their eyes followed the shadow as it passed them buy. It headed directly for Dawn. At the top of the black mass, where what was presumably the head, two white haloes surrounding two pitch black irises stared out at Dawn. They were cold, almost taunting. ¡®You ran from me with all your might, did everything you could to hide your tracks, and tried your best to lose me, but here I am. I¡¯ve seen past your tricks, I¡¯ve exposed your path, and I¡¯ve followed you all the way,¡¯ they seem to say. The mass stopped in front of dawn. The darkness beneath the eyes parted and two rows of white teeth emerged. The same deathly smile appeared before Dawn as he had seen that night four days prior. It lifted one of its appendages and held out four spheres. It took Dawn several seconds to realise what they were. The sphere were covered by black blotches, most of them were unrecognisable, but beneath the layer of darkness lay rotting skin. It was undeniable, those were the heads of three of the naked devils they had seen four days earlier. The blackness around the two rows of teeth began to move. ¡°So,¡± it said in a familiar voice, ¡°did I pass the test?¡± Dawn stared at the heads, completely oblivious to what had just been said for several seconds. His eyes were fixated on the peeling skin. It had started to dry and shrink. The faces were pulled taught, morphed into expressions he couldn¡¯t make out. They seemed to be somewhere between a smile and a scream, yet despite their disfigured appearance the terror they were in at the moment of their death still couldn¡¯t be hid. Their glassy, shrivelling eyeballs still held that terror captive.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Dawn didn¡¯t want to see those heads, and yet he couldn¡¯t tear his eyes away from them. They told a story of momentary hell. Of a fate that he wouldn¡¯t wish, even on his enemies. The terror that struggled to escape from their eyes sent shivers down his spine, and the silent screams they were shouting in perpetuity made his ears hurt. He felt dizzy, like he was constantly falling. Finally, after nearly a minute of staring at the balls of terror, he finally managed to move his eyes from the scene. As he did he finally snapped out of his days. ¡°Huh?¡± was all he could get out. ¡°The black mass in front of him didn¡¯t stop smiling, and just repeated its inquiry. ¡°Did I pass the test?¡± Once again Dawn¡¯s head spun. ¡®Pass the test? What fucking test?¡¯ Then it hit him. ¡°Fuck you Migal! What the fuck?!¡± he yelled. Unable to control himself he hurled himself at Migal, but the latter dodged easily, leaving Dawn to make acquaintances with the ground. He lay there incredulously for several moments before getting to his feet stumblingly. ¡°What the hell was that?!¡± he yelled once again. ¡°What the hell was what?¡± Migal asked, puzzled. ¡°What the hell did you do? Where did you get those heads?¡± ¡°Why, I took them from the corpses of the naked devils of course.¡± The statement rudely shoved the others out of their daze. ¡°What about the damn monster?¡± Kor asked. ¡°What monster? I killed the naked devils and took their heads. I had originally planned to simply show you guys my handy-work, but when I showed up you all disappeared into the bushes. I had to spend four whole days catching up to you. I didn¡¯t even have time to bath and clean the blood off me!¡± Migal said. He scratched himself vigorously. As he did so the blood flaked off him like dead skin. ¡°Ugh¡­ I¡¯m itching all over.¡± ¡°What, YOU killed the naked devils?¡± Dawn asked. ¡°Of course, who else? They were all dead by the time you got there, weren¡¯t they? I even brought three of their heads as proof.¡± Dawn collapsed to the ground. ¡°What on earth is going on¡­¡± Migal spent the next couple of hours calming everyone down and explaining the whole sequence of events to everyone. All throughout everyone kept their distance. Even by the end of it their eyes were still filled with deep fear towards Migal, though a tinge of admiration was mixed in. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough,¡± Dawn finally stopped Migal, ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough, for now at least. Now that the mystery of the killer beast has been solved we should home as soon as possible. Our rations are pretty much finished and you haven¡¯t eaten in three days.¡± No one objected and everyone immediately set off for home. They were eager to return to their resting chambers and sleep a nightsun-cycle away. The previous four days no one had rested. Even during the last three nights when they had stopped for rest, no one could sleep so everyone just ended up staring into the darkness for the whole night. ¡°Why is everyone still catching glimpses of me over their shoulders all the time?¡± Migal asked Dawn. Dawn tensed up ever-so-imperceptibly when he heard Migal¡¯s voice. He had yet to get over his trauma. ¡°What do you expect? You scared everyone to such an extent that I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they formed internal demons! There¡¯s no way they can look at you the same after what happened.¡± ¡°But I didn¡¯t do anything special. I just killed some naked devils,¡± Migal protested. ¡°You might see it that way, but the way you appeared scared the living shit out of everyone.¡± Migal merely shrugged, ¡°I can¡¯t help it if they have blare fate for hearts.¡± ¡®Blare fat for hearts my tail. Even I was scared shitless,¡¯ Dawn thought, but he daren¡¯t say it out loud. He still had his dignity, after all. Or, rather, what was left of it after his shameful displays the last couple of days. The journey continued uneventful, and by sundown the group could see the cave come into view halfway up the mountain ahead. ¡°Yes! Home, finally!¡± everyone chanted in unison. Migal merely sighed and shook his head. ¡°We didn¡¯t even get to do our hunt. How am I going to become an adult now?¡± ¡®Become an adult my arse, how could Mallarn refuse to make you an adult with your performance? If you present him with the three naked devil heads he might even make you his successor right there and then!¡¯ Dawn thought, ¡®I¡¯m more worried for the others, how could they ever face the forest again.¡¯ The group slowly climbed up the mountainside. When they were about half way to the cave entrance they heard several howls. The others were alerted to their return. By the time they made it to the cave entrance, the adult males were already waiting for them. ¡°Dawn! You¡¯ve brought the youngsters back rather quickly, haven¡¯t you? You were supposed to be away for at least a whole nightsun-cycle,¡± a tailless howler greeted them. Dawn walked up to him and gave him a strong hug. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, brother.¡± ¡°So, was the hunt a success?¡± his brother asked. At the question Dawn¡¯s expression turned serious. ¡°I need to speak with the alpha male. Where¡¯s Mallarn?¡± he immediately asked. ¡°He¡¯s about to head out on patrol, why? Did something happen?¡± ¡°Come with me.¡± Dawn didn¡¯t explain anymore and just entered the cave. His brother looked at his disappearing figure puzzled for a moment before following. Chapter 15 - A most Incredible Sensation Michael slowly clawed his way from the dark abyss of his slumber. He first became aware of the sounds of the outside world. The sounds were dim and muffled, like trying to listen to something happening by the side of a swimming pool while he was submerged under the water. It quickly cleared up, however. He could hear the carriage¡¯s wheels rolling over the loose stones on the dirt road, and could feel it hopping along. He could hear the rhythmic tap of the horse¡¯s heels, and the humming of the driver. He also became aware of the sunlight shining on his face, it bathed him in a slight glow of heat, and a soft red glow was also visible through his closed eyelids. He kept his eyes closed for a few dozen seconds so they could adjust to the sunlight before slowly opening them. He felt completely rested. His body was completely relaxed. He didn¡¯t feel the slight stiffness in his limbs or the slight unwillingness of his mind to start working that he had become so accustomed to over the last couple of years. For the first time in who knew how long, he felt truly rested, truly relaxed, and ready for the day. ¡°Awake are we?¡± the driver asked, ¡°you have quite the timing, we¡¯re just outside the village.¡± Michael sat up and poked his head over the side of the carriage. They were indeed just outside of a village. The small collection of houses crowded around a hill irregularly. Thatched roofs and wooden walls lined the couple of dirt roads that curled naturally between them. There was probably no more than forty buildings, both commercial and otherwise in the village. The biggest building in this collection crowned the hilltop. It looked out over the village and the other hills beyond. On the horizon beyond the village stood the forest. The trees ran from horizon to horizon, un interrupted save for a small footpath that lead from the village to it and broke its way into the forest. A single cart could be seen heading to the forest on it. It was pulled by two oxen and had about five people on it and one driver. Michael was momentarily startled and held his breath. The carriage was a good four kilometres from him, and yet he could make out the individual figures on it. He couldn¡¯t tell anything beyond the fact that they were separate figures form one another, but this was still several times better than he would have been able to do normally. His eyesight wasn¡¯t exceptionally good back in the real world, but he doubted even the most well-sighted person would be able to see this well this far. Michael turned his gaze back to the village as they passed the first outlying building. The houses seemed old, weathered, but well taken care of. The fields were green with growing crops. They also frequently passed groups of people and the occasional cart heading out to work on the fields. The people wore smiles on their sun-baked faces and chatted merrily as they moved along. They wore plain clothes, but the clothes weren¡¯t worn, indicating that, whilst they weren¡¯t well off, they certainly weren¡¯t struggling. ¡°So, did you rest well?¡± the driver tried once more to start up a conversation. ¡°I did, yes,¡± Michael answered courteously. ¡°I thought so. You were breathing so slowly I had to check on you several times to make sure you hadn¡¯t left this world,¡± he laughed. Michael only smiled and didn¡¯t continue to the conversation. ¡°Well, here we are,¡± the driver said as he brought the carriage to a halt in the small market square of the village. ¡°You should stop here and stock up before heading out into the forest.¡± ¡°Thanks for the advice, but I¡¯m already well-prepared,¡± Michael answered, pointing at the bags beside him.¡± ¡°Indeed, well, good luck. I¡¯ll be heading off then!¡± The driver urged his horses on when Michael had disembarked and trotted on through the village, heading further east. Michael watched him leave for several seconds before shifting his attention to the market square and the people around him. Everyone was indeed merry as they busied themselves with their morning chores and heading out for the day¡¯s work. No one payed him much attention. ¡®It must be rather common to have hunters and adventurers coming this way, heading for the forest. It is the closest one to the city, after all.¡¯ He didn¡¯t waste his time and immediately set out for the forest. He followed the same footpath out of the village he had spotted when they were arriving. It curved around a few raises in the landscape before reaching the forest. The forest itself hid beneath its canopy more rolling hills, which slowly grew larger and larger the deeper into the forest one went, eventually leading up into a mountain range. These mountains were only barely visible from the edge of the forest, breaking through the blue haze of the atmosphere and cutting into the sky like giant teeth. The mountain peaks ran from north to south, marking the edge of the world. Michael didn¡¯t know what lie beyond, whether it was more land, and ocean, or a desert.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. He spent the first couple of hours moving along the edges of the forest. ¡®I shouldn¡¯t go in too deep too quickly. I don¡¯t have a minimap anymore, so if I get lost I might not easily find my way back out again.¡¯ As the sun reached its zenith, marking high noon, he took a break. ¡®I¡¯ve set several traps and managed to catch two small animals. I should stop for lunch.¡¯ He found a spot where the canopy thinned at the top of a hill, and sat down beside a large tree. He took out some of the dried meat he had bought back in the city and chewed on them. His eyes lit up the moment the meat landed on his tongue. Michael was part of a culture that loved meat. One of its staple dishes was various dried meats. As such Michael knew the taste of dried meat all too well. If he was confident enough to call himself a connoisseur of only one food in the world, then this was it. Yet despite this, this taste was completely foreign to him. It wasn¡¯t that the meat itself tasted differently, but that the number of tastes was completely different. The dried meat he had known all his life was spiced in such a way that all the various tastes melded into one and became a single, unified sense of enjoyment. Michael could pick up a similar technique in the meat, though slightly cruder than what he was used to, but still very well done. Despite this, he could taste everything in the meat. He could taste the meat itself, the taste of which was also further divided into the different kinds of muscle fibres that constituted the meat, the fat, the sinews, etc. He could also taste each and every spice separately. He couldn¡¯t name each, but he was very aware of them. This was an experience unlike anything he had had before. It was very unlike tasting actual food, and more like recalling the memories of the various tastes he had tasted in the past. Yet he was very clear he wasn¡¯t remembering previous tastes, as the majority of the tastes were completely foreign to him. It was an incredible sensation. He took another bite, and again he could taste the various ingredients and spices. It was a most peculiar sensation. The first moment of taste it was one constituted flavour, then it broke down over a few moments into the various separate tastes. If he had to explain it visually, it was like the branching of a tree. The tastes first split into large groups that were similar, and then each large group split into smaller groups, and then into yet smaller groups, and so on until each individual taste was clear and distinguishable from every other. It was a most incredible sensation indeed. A rare smile of pure enjoyment and excitement creeped onto Michael¡¯s face. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the unique sensation for several moments. Only once the tastes faded a minute after he took the bite did he take another. Michael enjoyed it so much that he was actually saddened when he swallowed the last bite. He was of a mind to take out another part, but restrained himself. He had enough food to last him the entire trip, but since he was currently broke, he had to stick to his rations and couldn¡¯t afford to be indulgent. He sighed and stood up. He spent the rest of the day setting up traps and hunting small game when he came across it. When the sun was about three quarters along its way to the western horizons, and the needles piercing through the canopy grew long and few, Michael returned to the tree. He cleared a patch under it of stones and stich and pitched his tent. He laid down the ground sheet and used to dried sticks he found in the area to prop up the small one man sleeper. He also cleared up a small half-a-metre diameter patch of ground of the foliage covering it, lined it with stones, and once he was certain that there was nothing flammable nearby, and the sky directly above it was clear of low-hanging branches, he set off to find firewood. He returned shortly before sunset with two armfuls of wood of various thickness. After lighting a small fire he set about skinning and clearing his catches for the day. Michael thought back to several videos he had once watched on hunting and skinning game. He also remembered the time he had once been on a hunting farm and had watched the workers skin an antelope the owner had hunted. He took the first of his game and set to work. He hung the small rabbit-like animal upside down from one of the lower branches of the tree by its ankles. First he slit its throat and cut open its stomach. He let the intestines fall to the ground and the blood from the animal drain from its slit throat. He repeated this with his four other catches. After this was done he returned to the rabbit and began to skin it. He worked from the stomach outwards. He would pull the skin away from the flesh, then insert his knife and make short, quick cuts. Each cut would separate about a centimetre of skin from the flesh. He spent about two hours working on the five small animals before he was finally finished. He wasn¡¯t practiced in skinning animals at all, so it took him far longer than those he had seen doing it in the videos, but his exceptional hand-eye coordination, and good control over his muscles meant that though he was slower than the well-practiced, the skin was still cleanly removed without any damage to the pelt. He stopped every now and again to feed the small fire as he worked, stopping only when he was also done with the skinning. By the time he put his knife down it was completely dark. It was a new moon night, so the forest was pitch black, only the fire illuminated the small patch of the world around him. The light and shadows it cast on the forest around him danced hypnotically. If not for his heightened senses, he had no doubt he would have imagined animals or ghosts in the shadows. He cleaned his hands with a small cloth and had dinner, which was another piece of dried meat, after which he climbed into the small sleeper. Around him the forest teemed with nightlife. He could hear the howling of what was probably this world¡¯s equivalent to wolves, the scampering of various nocturnal insects, the occasional rustle of the bushes as other small animals moved through the underbrush, and the soft crackle of the slowly dying fire just outside the tent. If he concentrated really hard, Michael could even imagine that he could hear the stars singing away. Oh shooting star oh nightly guard watch over me tonight. Watch my children sleep and my husband rest. Oh shooting star oh nightly guard hold me close in your embrace and guide me back on the morrow. Michael hummed as he drifted away. Chapter 16 - Antlers of Wood and Eyes of Leaves; A Mirror on a Pond and Stars of Fate Michael woke to the sound of Morning Bluebirds. They hummed, sang, and chirped away, serenading the sun as it rose from its own slumber in the east. The landscape thawed in triangles as the mountains held back the sun, and it in turn burst through between their peaks. Michael was lucky enough to find himself exactly in the middle between two peaks, and as such he caught the early sun. He crawled from his sleeper awkwardly and stretched. He started with his fingers, then his toes, then worked his way along his four limbs from his extremities to his torso. He cracked and bent every joint, stretched every muscle and taughtened every sinew. Once his limbs were loosened, he proceeded to work through his torso. Starting from his hips to his shoulders, every vertebra was shifted, turned, and shot back into place. His shoulder blades faced their own morning baptism, after which came his neck. Finally, after even his jaw had its turn, he took a deep breath. He inhaled the cool morning air. He pulled it through his nose, down his trachea, and down into the depths of his lungs. His intercostal muscles and diaphragm screamed from the exertion. He almost staggered as the oxygen rushed into his brain several seconds later. The jolt shoved his brain into action. The dew was still fresh on the leaves as Michael dashed through the underbrush. His steps were light and fast. "Ah, how good it is to be able to run like this! It''s been far too long since I''ve last truly enjoyed the outside!" Michael shouted as he flew along. "Bah! Damn those lecturers and their demands! They kept me glued to the desk behind my cogitor from sunrise to sunrise every day! I couldn''t even rest during the weekends! If I never have to go back it would be too soon!" Michael took in the sights and the sounds as he flew through the forest. His steps were fast and agile. He nimbly avoided the obstacles, although he couldn''t help but feel awkward. His motions may seem fluid and exceptionally coordinated, even effortless to others, but Michael could sense an ever so slight disconnect between his will and his body. He was still keenly aware of the fact that this wasn''t his real body. The veil on his senses had been removed, but his body still wasn''t entirely his own. He could sense a foreign presence. It intercepted the messages he sent to his body, interpreted them first, and only then passed them along. Though the delay and sense of disconnect was minute, Michael couldn''t help but notice it. "I suppose even the best technology is still just technology. It can never match up to the real thing. No matter how close it gets, there will always be the smallest difference." Michael sighed sombrely. This was a most unwelcome reminder of the fantasy of this world. The sun was just peaking over the lowest of the mountain peaks as Michael returned to his camp. He found everything just as he had left it. "Ugh, the intestines from yesterday''s butchering is beginning to leave a distasteful odour." He gathered up the intestines and buried it in a shallow ditch a few dozen metres from the camp. Afterwards he headed for the nearby stream to wash himself. The day was in its teens when he returned. Refreshed, he gathered his equipment and set off to look for the traps he had set and emptied the day before. The first he came across he had set under the root of an old tree. The root lifted from the ground in an arch before it descended back under the ground, creating an underpassage used by small game to travel. "Bah, empty. If every trap had a catch in the first day it would be too easy." Michael moved on. The second he came across he had set under a small, thorny bush. A small passageway had been carved from it by the repetitive travels of small game, likely rabbits or some large vermin. "Empty again." The third was between two trees. This trap was somewhat larger. It could capture anything up to a a large Klipspringer(1). "Empty..." The fourth trap was set up next to a tree. This tree had a low hanging branch, about two metres from the ground, that spanned a distance of three metres between two trees. In the middle of the span a third sapling grew. The branch ran through the split in the sapling, giving it a firm central support. The trap was hung from this branch with the noose about one and a half metres from the ground. It was perfect for catching Zebra-sized (2) animals. This trap yielded a catch. Caught in the noose was an animal Michael had never seen before. It looked almost like a Lichtenstein''s Hartebeest (3), except that it didn''t have the characteristic curving horns. Instead it had the antlers of a Caribou (4). Most amazingly, the antlers had leaves growing on them. They were like small saplings growing out of the head of the deer. Michael could do naught but hold his breath when he saw the deer. He stared at it for nearly half an hour before daring to move closer. The deer was standing dead still. It was clearly still alive, but it wasn''t struggling at all. Michael couldn''t decide whether it was because it had given up, or because it was saving its energy to deal with him.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Regardless of the possible dangers, he moved closer. He didn''t hide his steps. He could see the deer had already noticed him, so there was no point. Besides, he could see the marks and wounds on the deer''s neck where the noose had harmed it. It had clearly struggled to free itself already and the noose had held. Even if it started struggling again, the noose would hold, at least long enough for Michael to kill it. The never made a move, however. Michael circled around it carefully. He maintained a distance safely outside of the reach of its legs and antlers. He moved around to the front. Only once he was directly in front of the deer did he begin to close in. As he approached he stared into the deer''s eyes. They were unlike any eyes he had seen before. The pupils were in the shape of a leaf. Each was haloed by ice-blue sclera (5). When their eyes made contact, Michael felt like he was standing in the middle of the forest in the dead of the night. All around him was pitch black, the navy of the night, and dancing on the breeze were glowing, spring-green leaves. There was a sense of tranquillity in those eyes, like the mountains could crumble, and the seas could dry, but they would not faze those eyes. The deer didn''t turn its gaze away, nor did it blink. Those two leaves simply stared into Michael''s eyes. Under the deer''s unwavering gaze Michael felt as though he was naked. It felt like every secret, every memory, every fear, and every passion was laid bare. He was a bride of fate unveiled to her husband, his to gaze at and scrutinise. Despite the uncomfortable, even unnerving feeling, Michael still felt serene. The incongruous, even paradoxical feelings played themselves on his heart, yet left it unmoved. They danced on the pond of his soul, yet left no ripples on it. The surface remained a mirror. It reflected his fate stars perfectly, and bounced off it the droplets of mourning and sorrow, of regret and anguish. The bolts of hatred, fury, rage, and vengeance remained unrooted. They had no choice but to bounce between his fate stars like an ominous premonition. Michael finally arrived in front of the deer. His gaze had never shifted, nor had the deer''s. The two continued to stare into one another''s eyes; two solitary existences in a sea of void, an endless universe of inconsequentiality. Michael sighed. "Why do you stare at me so?" Michael asked, "Why do you gaze into my soul so? Why do you face your winter with such serenity? Why does the world not concern you? Oh deer, your eyes are fathomless. Within them dances profundity. Within them twirls golden leaves. Your life is in its autumn, so why do your antlers bloom evergreen? Why do you seek my heart with such sincere compassion? Why does your gaze shake my unmoved heart? For what reason do you stand in front of me, timeless like the mountains, and ageless like the azure sky? By what age should I measure your grandeur, so close to its pyre? Why should I be drawn to your gaze like a moth to a flame? Tell me, oh evergreen deer of autumn, will you burn me like the candles lit in the mausoleum? Will you bleed me like a goat during the ides? Do you blind me to the future like Odysseus Polyphemus? Why do you tempt like Medusa;to gaze for eternity into those crystals? Should I walk in the shadow, taking the corpse of the moth, or join it in a dance of momentary brilliance? Should I ignite my passion and burn myself on the flames of fate, or should I turn from your gaze and bring about your winter? Should I ripple the mirror and distort the fates, or leave it untouched, perfect and unmoved by the storms that rage above it?" The deer remained unchanging, unmoved by Michael''s soliloquy. The two continued to stare at one another. Neither dared break their locked gaze, nor did either wish for time to resume its ceaseless march. Finally, afteran eternity spent in a moment that did not move, in an instant that did not pass, Michael lifted his dagger. It touched the skin of the deer, and sliced across its throat. The noose jumped, and dangled loose by the side of the deer''s head. It didn''t move, however, and continued to stare into Michael''s eyes for several eternal moments. It turned slowly and moved away. It walked unhurried into the distance. Just before it vanished into the shadows of the underbrush, it turned its head back, and gazed into Michael''s eyes one last time. Michael''s eyes sparked at that moment, and a ripple rang in the surface of the pond of his soul, disturbing its eternal tranquillity.
"Sonja!" a small, determined voice rang out in the forest. "Run, Direm! Run and don''t stop!" a slightly older voice echoed. Two small figures dashed in between the trees. Behind them came a lumbering mass. It tore down the trees like a farmer harvesting so many stalks of wheat. The underbrush was ripped up as it moved along, and the canopy fell as it roared past. Despite clearing out a scar in the forest, it remained submerged in shadow. The rays of sunlight bent themselves out of shape to avoid it. They scattered like fleas before a flame. Wherever the beast passed the forest died; trees withered, rocks crumbled, and the ground became barren. "Why is it chasing us?" the small voice asked. "I don''t know, just keep running!" The two crossed the grounds as quickly as they could. Their steps were frightened, their breath in fear, and their eyes rapt with dread. They came over the top of a small rise, and crashed through some bushes. The two plopped down onto the ground gasping for air. The girl named Sonja listened with utmost care. After several quiet, anxious moments she let out a long, deep sigh. "It''s no longer following us," she said. "Why would it suddenly stop?" Direm asked. "I have no idea, but we should thank our fate stars..." her words stopped mid-sentence. Her ears twitched. She lifted her head and her eyes darted to a figure that stood a few metres in front of them. The figure stood unmoving, if not for the clear sound of breathing, it would be easy to mistake it for a tree stump in the right light. Near the top of the figure, where the head should be, were two glowing orbs; two eyes that shone with an intense light. They stared at the two, an unwavering inquisition. Sonja''s muscled tightened. She instinctively grabbed hold of Direm''s hand and readied herself to run. "Why do you hold yourself so tense, little girl?" a voice boomed from the figure. Sonja felt herself shiver momentarily. The figure stepped forward. It emerged from the shadow and the light fell on it. The moment Sonja could see the figure clearly, she let out half a sigh of relief. In front of her stood a man, a human male of youthful age. He was likely no older than twenty seasons. His gaze was firm and inquisitive, without malice. Sonja felt herself relax without reason. It felt like a weight beyond measure had been lifted from her shoulders, and she involuntarily descended into darkness. A deep slumber overtook her. Chapter 17 - Two Young Feles Michael sighed deeply. He sat in front of the small fire he had made with a bowel of stew. He fished in the bowel for a scoop that contained both meat and vegetables. Once he had caught a few pieces, he lifted the spoon too his mouth. He blew a few breaths on it and watched the steam drift up into the night before emptying it into his mouth. ¡°Ugh¡­¡± he sighed once he felt the hot food fall into his stomach. His gaze shifted from the fire to the two figures that lay on the other side of it. Two small bundles of flesh were curled up under a woollen blanket, hugging each other instinctively. ¡°What am I going to do with you?¡± His eyes returned to the fire once more. They gazed aimlessly at the dancing flames as he mulled over the day¡¯s events. The night was particularly quiet. All the animals and insects of the night were quiet, as if they didn¡¯t wish to disturb the slumber of the two small figures. Only the fire dared break the silence. The wood crackled and the flames licked at the bottom of the small, black, iron pot. Occasionally a branch would collapse into a hole burnt from the material beneath it and send sparks dashing into the night sky to join the stars. The shadows danced on the forest around Michael again. This time, however, their dance seemed pained. The flames cast their light laboriously onto the forest, and the forest bounced them back painfully. The stars, too, were slowly being dragged across the night sky unwillingly. They even twinkled with sweat as they fought to stay where they were. Amidst all the toil and burden, the two figures slept blissfully. The world seemed inconsequential to them, like it could wink out of existence without their notice or worry. The elder of the two, the female, seemed to be the most blissful. The younger male occasionally shifted, but she remained as still as a rock, unmoved by the eons and the passage of time and weather. Michael couldn¡¯t but sigh again as he looked at the two. ¡°You¡¯re really giving me a headache, don¡¯t you know?¡± As he watched the two sleep, he felt his own eyes grow heavy. He removed the pot from the fire and placed it on a small flattened rock nearby. He finished his bowel, and turned in for the night against a nearby tree.
Sonja¡¯s eyes shot open. She tried to sit upright before she had truly woken up, and found her head shoved against some fabric. Once she shook off the confusion of sleep, she found that she was in a small tent - a sleeper, to be precise. Her eyes searched anxiously for a moment, until they found Direm laying right next to her. He rubbed his eyes and moaned discontently. ¡°What¡¯s up? Why are you making so much noise?¡± he asked. A few moments later, once he too shook off the confusion of sleep, his eyes darted around. ¡°Where are we? Did that thing catch us?¡± he spat out the words rapidly. ¡°Shhh!¡± With her hand over Direm¡¯s mouth, Sonja pointed her eyes to the entrance of the tent. Through the small triangle she could see a smouldering fire. A thing trail of smoke rose from the coals. Next to the fire pit was a small black pot, and beyond it ¨C some distance away ¨C was the edge of the forest. She perked her ears and listened carefully for any sounds. She heard nothing but the chirps of morning birds, and the slight hum of various insects going about their daily lives. After about a minute of listening intently, she lowered her gaze to Direm and slowly removed her hand. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but no one¡¯s around right now. We should take a look around, carefully.¡± She said no more and slowly crawled out of the small sleeper. She made every effort to be as quiet as possible as she moved. Her head poked out of the tent first and she scanned the surroundings quickly before she crawled out entirely. They were in the middle of a small clearing. Behind them was a large tree. Next to it, spanning the gap between it and another tree, was a rope laden with the carcasses of small animals in various stages of drying. She stood up awkwardly and moved over to the line-up. ¡°Hoppers, Fire-Calis, Farren...¡± she couldn¡¯t resist naming the carcasses as she looked them over. It¡¯d become a habit of hers thanks to her father. He always did exactly that, and mimicking his every move was something she had done almost from birth. ¡°So that¡¯s what you call them,¡± a vaguely familiar voice came from behind the two. The two jumped. Sonja reeled around, pulling Direm behind her in the same motion. Her hair stood on end, her ears stiffened, and her lips curled up into an anxious snarl reflexively. In front of her, about two metres from her, stood a youth probably only a few seasons her senior. A human male. The man was as familiar as his voice.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. After a few seconds of staring at him blankly, the memories of the previous night emerged from the depths of her tense mind. ¡°You, you¡¯re-¡° ¡°The guy from last night, yes,¡± he said in a tone that sounded slightly off. Sonja¡¯s instincts told her he was insinuating something other than what his words seemed to mean. The man had a devilish, teasing smile on his face. It vanished after a second or two, however. ¡°Ah, forget it,¡± he said, sighing. Sonja found herself driven to relaxing involuntarily. Her body kept wanting to lower its guard without her permission and she had to put in a conscious effort to remain alert. It was a peculiar feeling. The previous night her guard lowered without her permission due to exhaustion, but she felt well rested now, and yet it still kept fighting her. ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ she couldn¡¯t help but ask herself. ¡°So, young lady. Would you mind telling what two children like you are doing along and exhausted in the middle of the forest?¡± Sonja was slightly surprised when she heard the man¡¯s words. ¡®A young lady¡¯ he had called her. ¡®A young lady!¡¯ Humans never called anyone from her people ¡®young ladies¡¯! She had heard the stories from her mother, the tall tales meant to warn her of humans. They treated her kind like slaves, like cattle good for nothing but harvesting for labour, release, and fighters. She had personally seen her father¡¯s parties return short a man or two, and heard tales from the travelling merchants of woman and children kidnapped but mercenaries to be sold at their towns as slaves. She¡¯d even heard, on several occasions, the elder woman in the town whisper anxiously as they worked about some incursion by the humans that was getting uncomfortably close to the village. And yet, here was this human, calling her a ¡®young lady¡¯! What was with that? ¡®Young Lady¡¯ was supposedly a way to address someone one respected, someone of the rank of village chief or whatever the human equivalent was. Why was this human youth referring to her like this? Her eyes scanned him from his feet upwards. She took note of the short sword that dangled from his waist, and the small dagger that suck out of his boots. Her eyes stopped when they reached his eyes, however. She was unable to tear hers away from his. They were dark blue, almost navy. They sparkled like the night sky and shone like azure crystals in the sunlight. Her eyes went blank as she stared at the two jewels embedded in his face. ¡°Well, are you going to answer my question?¡± the man asked again. His voice sounded warm like a summer¡¯s breeze. It had a fragrance like Star Jasmine blooming in spring, and bellowed like a knock on an ancient tree¡¯s trunk. It echoed in her ears, flowed into her mind and tapped her soul, rousing her from her trance. ¡°Uhm¡­ We were being chased by some¡­ wild animals and got lost,¡± she answered, carefully. Direm next to her couldn¡¯t keep up the fight against his body like she could, and had already relaxed. He walked up to the man and poked his stomach. ¡°Are you a human?¡± he asked, wide-eyed. Sonja jumped. How had she not noticed that left her side? She was about to lunge forward to pull him away when the man gentle lowered himself to his haunches. ¡°Yes, I am, young man. And what are you?¡± he asked. His eyes smiled at Direm, and nearly sent Sonja back into her trance. Her footsteps halted and she was left standing in an awkward position between steps with her hand half outstretched. ¡°Don¡¯t you know?¡± Direm asked, half playfully. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, young man,¡± the man answered. ¡°I¡¯m a Felis, you dumb-dumb!¡± Direm giggled. He trotted around, showing off his tail as it danced around behind him. Sonja stood slack-jawed at the scene in front of her. Sure, her brother was a playful boy, and quick to get along with people, but he had grown up with the same stories she had, and should have a trained caution for humans. And yet, there he was, dancing around playfully like a child who¡¯d just made a new friend. The man smiled as his gaze followed Direm. He watched the kid hop around him once before his case came to rest on Sonja once more. She shivered again under his gaze. It was only when she shivered that she noticed the awkward stance she was in. She blushed from shame and quickly corrected herself. She couldn¡¯t understand, however, how she had let herself get into such an awkward stance in the first place. Her mother had trained her in the grace and poise a Felis should have, which had heightened her already high natural poise, and her father had also trained her in basic combat, so she should never had let herself get into such an awkward, untenable stance. The man¡¯s gaze rested on her intensely. She had the feeling of a small kitten being scrutinised by a hawk. She had last felt like that when she was brought in front of the council of elders as a little cub, barely six seasons old. It was exceedingly uncomfortable. The gaze only lasted for a few moments, however, before it softened and his eyes smiled at her. It sent a different shiver down her spine this time. ¡°So you¡¯re lost, are you?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she nodded. ¡°Well, I¡¯m afraid I won¡¯t be of much help to you with regards to finding your way home, since I don¡¯t know the forest at all.¡± The man scratched his head with a wry smile on his face. ¡°But let¡¯s worry about that when we come to it. You guys probably haven¡¯t eaten for some time, so let¡¯s have breakfast first, shall we?¡± He walked over to the fire. He tossed several small twigs on it and blew. Once the twigs lit up he added a few larger branches from a pile nearby. All the while Direm was circling around him with large eyes. Sonja resigned herself to her situation and walked over to join them. ¡°So, what¡¯s your name?¡± the man asked when she joined him. ¡°Sonja,¡± she answered. ¡°My name¡¯s Direm!¡± her brother yelled from the other side of the small fire pit. ¡°Nice to meet you, Sonja, Direm. You can call me Michael,¡± he replied. He added couple of larger stumps to the fire and watched it crackle. When he was certain it had taken he brought over the small pot and placed it over the fire. Soon a delightful odour wafted up from beneath the lid. It drew saliva from the pair, who couldn¡¯t take their eyes off it. ¡°It¡¯s not much. It¡¯s just a small stew I made last night, but it should fill your stomach and stave off your hunger.¡± Direm nodded his head like a bird pecking grains. Michael handed a bowl with the stew over to the two. ¡°Sorry, but I only packed one bowl since I wasn¡¯t expecting any guests.¡± The pair looked at the food, and Sonja had to swallow frequently to keep herself from showing an unflattering side. ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand there, dig in!¡± Michael laughed and pushed the bowl into her hands before standing up and heading over to the line to inspect the carcasses. Direm didn¡¯t wait and did exactly that. Sonja could do naught but hold on to the bowl for all she was worth to prevent the contents from flying all over the area. Chapter 18 - An Impulsive Offer, an Impulsive Decision Michael sat quietly as he watched the two eat. The younger of the two, Direm, was probably no older than 7, maybe 8 years. The elder, Sonja, was likely around 12 years old. The two had to be siblings. Given the ease with which they slept next to one another, their relative ages, and their similar appearance, Michael couldn¡¯t think otherwise. Once the bowl was emptied by Direm, Michael filled it up once more and handed it to Sonja. She proceeded to taste the food carefully. Her eyes lit up at the taste. She forgot all etiquette she might have been taught and the bowl was soon empty once more. ¡°Good, you two look a bit better than you did yesterday, but you¡¯re still too weak to travel. I¡¯m going off hunting. You guys stay near the camp. I¡¯ll be back by the time the sun is three quarters of the way to the western horizon.¡± For some reason, Sonja didn¡¯t argue. Michael had thought she would make some comment, or perhaps insist on following, but she only nodded timidly. Her ears were lowered and hugged her head closely, her tail completely still as it dangled on the ground. Michael left the two. He wasn¡¯t certain whether they would still be there when he returned. ¡°Ah, it doesn¡¯t really matter. It would actually make things a lot easier for me if they chose to leave, but I don¡¯t really care either way.¡± The day went by quickly, and Michael returned at the promised time. He found the campsite quiet. Not a leaf rustled, not a branch swayed, not a stick cracked. The fire was dead and not even smouldering. He didn¡¯t try to hide his footsteps, and walked in. ¡°It seems like they must have left,¡± he said under his breath. He placed his catch for the day on the ground and began with the by now instinctual process of butchering the animals. His haul was actually pretty good today. He had caught two deer, which he had already gutted, and one fox, which he was going to work on last. Sounds of flesh being cut and skin peeled danced through the small clearing and the surrounding underbrush. Occasionally one could hear the sound of humming rising above the sounds of butchering. Just as Michal finished his work on the fox, he heard an uncharacteristic rustle in the underbrush nearby. He only attended to the sound momentarily before going back to work. Moments later Sonja burst into the clearing. ¡°You¡¯re here!¡± she yelled as she ran over laboriously. She had has Direm on her back. The small boy was white as ash with blue lips. ¡°What happened?¡± Michael asked as he turned to face them. His hands were covered in darkening blood, and with the small knife clutched in his left hand he appeared quite fearsome. Sonja paused for a moment before she closed the remaining distance between them. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong with Direm!¡± ¡°I can see that. What happened?¡± We were busy heading back to our village when he suddenly grew faint and collapsed. The little boy on her back shivered and coughed. He groaned, but was clearly unconscious. Michael had Sonja put him down on the woollen blanket. He kneeled beside him and placed his hand on his forehead. His forehead was warm to the touch, and he was drenched in cold sweat. ¡°The last couple of days have been too much for his system. You shouldn¡¯t have just up and left. He isn¡¯t as grown as you. His body can¡¯t take the constant strain. He¡¯s pretty ill¡­¡± Michael stood up and walked over to the small sleeper tent. Sonja¡¯s face whitened and her eyes teared. She hurriedly got up and stumbled over to Michael. As she drew near she fell at his feet, wrapping her arms around his legs. ¡°Please, please help my brother!¡± she yelled, looking up at Michael from the ground. Michael sighed. He shrugged her off and continued to the tent.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Please! He¡¯s the only family I have left! If¡­ If you help him You can take me as your slave!¡± Having no one else to ask for help, and no riches to offer, Sonja offered the only thing she had left: her life. Michael halted in his steps, and looked at her. ¡®I¡¯m not an immoral person, but I have my bottom line,¡¯ Michael thought, ¡®I always have to benefit from an exchange.¡¯ ¡°huh¡­ You aren¡¯t worth particularly much, but I suppose it¡¯ll have to do. Very well. I¡¯ll save your brother¡¯s life in exchange for yours.¡± Having said his piece, Michael retrieved the medicine from a small pouch in the sleeper, and returned to Direm. He placed the small vile to Direm¡¯s mouth, and made him drink it. His face immediately regained a bit of colour, and his lips lost some of theirs. ¡°Good. It¡¯ll be a few more days before he wakes up, but he¡¯ll be fine.¡± Sonja sighed upon seeing her brother recover some of his countenance. She sat down beside him and payed Michael no further heed. Michael felt a severe headache coming on, so he left the small clearing and headed to the stream at the foot of the hill.
¡®What have I done?¡¯ Sonja asked herself, clutching her head. Her fingers dug into her temples, turning into small, white sticks from the pressure. She felt her heart race, and her mind dull. ¡®What the hell did I do? How could I sign off my life like that? How am I supposed to look my father in the face?¡¯ The figure of her father appeared before her. He was a tall, slender man. He had very striking features. He had prominent cheek bones, large, pointy ears, and a strong, thick tail. He had immense hands that could completely hide Sonja¡¯s face, and he had a voice that sounded like a hammer striking wood. He had told her so many times that even now she could hear his voice clearly. ¡°A Theon never bows. A Theon never bends. A Theon never breaks. You must only ever bow to your parents, you must only ever bend to your family, and you may only break in death.¡± Were these not the words her father had told her countless times? Was this not the code by which she was sworn to live? Then what was this? She had sold herself, her life, her pride, and her honour, and she wasn¡¯t even an adult yet. Sonja opened her eyes, and her gaze came to rest on her sleeping brother. His breathing was calm and his breaths deep. His face was tranquil, and his body relaxed. There was no sign in his countenance of the desperate state he had been in but a few hours earlier. The sight untied a knot in Sonja¡¯s heart. She had sold her life, yes, but had it not been done to save her brother? Everything she had done had been for her brother. She had bent not to Michael, but to her brother, to save him. She had not bowed to Michael, but to the life of her brother, and she had most definitely not broken. If worst came to worst, and her family was no more, or was scattered to the wind, though she could no longer carry the legacy of the family, her brother could. And that was enough. Her life was a cheap price for her brothers.
Michael splashed his face with the cold water from the stream. Immediately the muscles in his face contorted and he made an unpleasant face. It lasted only moments before his face relaxed and shot back into a frown. He sighed deeply. Around hi the sounds of the forest echoed from the side of one hill to another. The leaves in the canopy above him rustled, and spots of light danced like crystals in the stream. ¡®What on earth did I just do?¡¯ Michael asked himself, ¡®What the hell was I thinking? Ugh¡­ clearly I wasn¡¯t. Why would I demand that the girl become my slave?¡¯ Michael had just started playing. He hadn¡¯t even levelled up once. He hadn¡¯t bought property, he hadn¡¯t procured proper weaponry, nor had he familiarised himself with this world. And yet had gone and gotten himself a slave? How was he supposed to pay the maintenance, how was he supposed to look after and protect the little thing? He had barely the skill to protect himself from anything more than the random stray animal¡­ His head hurt, really bad. It was then that several peculiarities of the whole situation struck him. First of all, Sonja appeared to be a very proud person. She wasn¡¯t arrogant, but she had an internal pride to her that wouldn¡¯t have allowed her to even think of making the offer of selling herself into slavery. In addition, she had been very weary of him from the beginning. She had never let her guard down, and had even chosen to leave despite her lingering exhaustion because she no doubt didn¡¯t trust him. And yet she had suddenly given herself up to him completely? There was himself as well. He was so shocked at his own behaviour because it wasn¡¯t something he would normally do. This wasn¡¯t like him at all. He had always been a slow and cautious person, someone to think through every conceivable set of circumstances before making a move, and yet he had impulsive chosen to take her on as his slave? Something about this whole turn of events felt unnatural. ¡°How to deal with this matter? I can¡¯t just go and tell her that I¡¯d changed my mind, I would seem indecisive. I can¡¯t just out and reject her, I would seem stupid. And I can¡¯t accept her as my slave at all, definitely not now.¡± Michael scratched his head, pulling a few strands out of his scalp at the same time. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll just ignore this whole business for now. If I can push back having to make a final decision for a few days I should have enough time to come up with a good excuse to turn her down.¡± With his mind resolved, he splashed his face one more time before standing up and heading back to the clearing. Chapter 19 - Meeting the Old Man Again The week passed slowly for Antoine. He would wake up early every morning to train with Lily. She wouldn¡¯t let him stop until he was nearly unable to stand. Only once she saw him heaving and his legs shaking would she let him go. He would return and take a quite dip in the dorm bath, then head off to the main campus for classes. These he would finish just before sunset, when he would return to his dorm to prepare for the next day of class. In class, he frequently caught his attention straying from the lecture. In such moments, he would find himself invariably immersed in the story the old man had told him in the park. He would slap himself gently on the cheek when no one was looking, and attempt ¨C in vain ¨C to pay attention to the lecture once more. The day did finally come along, however, that he and the old man had arranged. The lecturer had barely announced the end of the final class before lunch when Antoine was already dashing out of the hall. ¡°What¡¯s going on with him?¡± the lecturer asked as he looked at Lily, puzzled. Lily could but shrug at the lecturer and sigh as she watched Antoine march, almost anxiously, into the distance. Antoine soon arrived at the bench in the park where he had met the old man a week prior. He found there, seated exactly as he had been the week before, the old man. His head hung slightly as though he were asleep. Antoine made no attempt to hide his approach, and just as he was a few metres away from the bench, the old man lifted his head. Once he saw who it was that was approaching, he smiled and patted the bench next to him. ¡°You¡¯re quite punctual,¡± he said. Antoine¡¯s cheeks flushed slightly and he wore a bashful smile. He took his seat and waited quietly for the old man to start telling the story. The old man, however, didn¡¯t. He watched Antoine for a few seconds in silence. ¡°How was your week?¡± he finally asked. Antoine didn¡¯t know whether to feel touched that the man was interested in his week, or irritated that the story had yet to begin. ¡°It¡¯s been busy,¡± he eventually replied, ¡°I have classes most of the day, and my friend forces me to exercise and practice every morning.¡± ¡°Practice is good,¡± the old man nodded, ¡°This world is too dangerous, one cannot afford to be lax.¡± ¡°What do you mean? His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, has tamed the wilderness. There hasn¡¯t been a true threat to the empire for many years. The dissident factions in the kingdoms were destroyed, the devils and demons and their monster armies have been crushed. They don¡¯t dare to venture outside of the mountain ranges or the black forests that surround them. The empire¡¯s borders stretch from natural barrier to natural barrier, from the Dragonback Mountains in the east to the Night Forest in the west, from the Fire-Wastes in the north to the Eternal Waters in the south. The only ways into the empire are through easily defendable and well-guarded passes in the Dragon Mountain, and a few ports in the south on the coast. Besides that, there lies no comparable, united force outside the empire, nothing can truly threaten it.¡± Antoine, like many who lived in the empire, was very proud of the empire¡¯s stability and knew the reasons therefore well. There was no danger to the empire. The villages near the forests suffered occasional incursions by small bands of primitives, but nothing worth any real worry. ¡°Tell me, have you learned of hard-water in your classes yet?¡± the old man asked unperturbed. ¡°I have¡­¡± ¡°What happens when you apply an external force to it?¡± ¡°It turned hard as stone,¡± Antoine answered, slightly confused. ¡°And what happens when you relieve that pressure?¡± ¡°¡­It become fluid once more and flows all over the place like normal water would.¡± The old man smiled profoundly at Antoine, as if he expected him to gleam something from it. Antoine gaped at the man for a few moments before a small light appeared in his eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t mean-¡° ¡°Exactly,¡± the old man interrupted him, ¡°The empire is like hard-water. When there is an external force, or threat, it unites and become strong to face that threat, but when that threat no longer exists, it becomes fluid. Internal strife causes it to weaken as those within it compete for personal gain. Do not let the relative peace of the empire fool you. When there is no external threat, threats from within will emerge.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Antoine remained silent for a while as he contemplated the words of the old man. ¡®When there is no external threat against which the people can unify, they will begin to bicker and fight among themselves,¡¯ the thought struck him like a divine revelation. He remembered all the tales of the various kingdoms and empires that had come before the empire. The people of these empires were united when facing adversity, but once things started going well, once there was no true threat to their safety anymore, they became selfish. They would quarrel with their own and fight over glory and riches, and the empires would eventually fall - either struck down by another rising empire, or torn apart by their own citizens. ¡®It is indeed true that there no such things as a true and lasting peace.¡¯ ¡°It¡¯s good that you¡¯ve noticed,¡± the old man said. He smiled with satisfaction. ¡°So tell me, what are your plans for the future? What do you want to do once you finish your studies here?¡± ¡°Uhm¡­ I would like to find someone,¡± Antoine answered. ¡°Who?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just a plain commoner. I grew up with my parents in a small village far away from any large cities or centres of the empire. By rights I shouldn¡¯t ever have had the chance to come and study here. This place is where the descendants of great nobility come, ordinary nobility¡¯s youths can¡¯t attend here, much less a commoner like me.¡± ¡°And yet here you are.¡± ¡°Hmm. I don¡¯t know all the details, but apparently a noble took note of me and arranged for me to come study here. I would like to find them to offer them my sincere thanks.¡± Antoine¡¯s eyes gleamed with determination as he said the last sentence. ¡°Tell me, young man, for what reason would someone of the stature capable of arranging for a commoner to study here, give you that chance?¡± ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Do you think it would be purely for charity?¡± Antoine shook his head, ¡°No. Nobility aren¡¯t very charitable people.¡± ¡°But don¡¯t they look after their subjects well?¡± ¡°They do,¡± Antoine nodded, ¡°But not because they particularly want to. There might be a few who are truly good hearted and do so purely because they want to do good by their subjects, but most do so for two reasons.¡± ¡°And what would those reasons be?¡± ¡°The first is because it is required by law. The emperor, when he founded the empire, enshrined it in law that it is the responsibility of nobility to ensure their subjects are well looked after.¡± ¡°And the other reason?¡± ¡°Because well looked after subjects are useful. A horse cannot draw a carriage if it is starving, and so a commoner can¡¯t work hard and serve his lord well if he is half-dead from cold, hunger, and thirst.¡± The old man smiled, seemingly content with Antoine¡¯s answer. ¡°You understand the minds of nobility well.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve had a few years here at the university to learn.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± Antoine, as if only just realising what he had said, quickly looked around him. The park around them was quiet. Neither voices nor footsteps could be heard. None of the other noble students or their servants were around. He sighed slightly, before quickly looking at the old man worriedly. ¡®That¡¯s right!¡¯ he thought, ¡®This old man was able to write a note to a lecturer on a piece of silkweave paper, and he is even able to move around freely on the academy¡¯s grounds, he has to be someone of great nobility!¡¯ Antoine suddenly felt a cold sweat on his back. The hair on his neck stood on end, and his body felt tingly. ¡°I must apologise, my lord!¡± ¡°What for?¡± the old man asked. ¡°Just now I said something inconsiderate and ignorant. I am certain that You Lordship looks after your subjects out of the kindness of your heart!¡± This was a very difficult situation Antoine was in now. It was true that the laws the empire had regarding the treatment and governing of the common folk was the most benevolent that had ever existed, but this was still an aristocracy! If a commoner offended a noble, the noble could kill him without a second thought and no one would bat an eye-lid. He had just essentially questioned the motives and righteousness of all of the aristocracy in front of one of them, he could lose his life for this! The old man, however, did not appear to be offended in the least. He rocked back and forth on the bench as he laughed, holding his stomach. His laughter bellowed like an old church bell and echoed through the park. Antoine swore that if this old man laughed next to a building the windows would rattle in their frames. The old man finally finished his laughter. He wiped a few tears from his eyes and looked at Antoine, a beaming smile on his face. ¡°There¡¯s no need for such worry, child. I know all too well what it is you speak of. People will always have their own wishes. People are selfish and think only of themselves. If they must trample over others to get what they want, so be it, for some getting what they want is merely an excuse to trample over others. This is why I say that the empire is like hard-water. Without an external threat, they can afford to let their darker sides out of the closet.¡± ¡°Hmm,¡± Antoine agreed, ¡°The emperor must have known of this side of humanity, and that¡¯s why he made the laws he did.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± the old man said, ¡°Anyway, you came here to listen to my stories, didn¡¯t you? I shouldn¡¯t waste any more time. Let me tell you some more.¡± Antoine immediately sat up straight. He wore a serious expression on his face as he focused all his attention on the old man. The old man, on the other hand, laid back in the bench. He shifted around a few times until he was comfortable. He lifted his head and gazed into the canopy above him, and began telling his stories once more. Going on Hiatus for Rewrite Hey Guys. This has both been a very easy, and a very difficult decision to make. Over the past two weeks I''ve been carefully inspecting the story, the world, and the characters, and I''ve come to a difficult realisation. I have fallen into the same trap that so many isekai novels do (for which I quite rightly despise them). I have created a generic, forgettable world. I''ve created a world that is bland, characterless, and most of all, forgettable. The world blends too many elements, and lacks a distinctive character, most of all, it lacks the necessary limitations that a good world must have. By blending together elements of the ancient and the modern in the way that I have, I have built a world that doesn''t have character, in exchange for a world that doesn''t challenge me to come up with good explanations for being able to do certain things. The world feels shallow, convoluted, and directionless. The societies, the cultures, and the landscapes I have built are similarly shallow and lacklustre. I have a great story in my head, but not the canvas paint it on. This is where the easy part of the decision comes in. I want to deliver the best possible novel I can, and in order to do that, I have to rewrite almost everything about the world within which the story takes place, the actual world, the societies, the cultures, the time-period, and the people. But this is also where the hard part of the decision lies.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. This is no easy task, nor is it a simple undertaking. It will require that I begin from scratch again, and recreate the world within which my characters will live, and within which the story will play out. This won''t be quick to do, and will require that I stop working on the story, and put it on hiatus for several months while I do so. It is clear from this post, what decision I have come to. And it will take effect immediately. I know how much people dislike it when something they have been following, something they have an interest in, is suddenly halted half-way through. I have been on the other end of this situation many times as well. But I do not feel comfortable with, nor am I able to, continue to work on something I am dissatisfied with. This is something I have to do. I can promise you, however, that when this novel returns, it will be better, stronger, and more intriguing than ever before, and it will certainly be worth the wait. For the time being then, this will be the last post I put up. I wish you all of the best, and hope to see you again soon-ish. Kind Regards Shojiro