ã€ŠStop Calling Me A Demon Kingã€‹


 Chapter 1: Arrival

    Color blinded me. It infused me, ripped through me, devoured me, crippled me, mended me, chilled me, burned me, embraced me, deafened me, destroyed me¡­

    My entire existence was agony.

    For how long it lasted, I had no idea. When it started, I could not remember. What it was, I could care less. When it would end, I could not even comprehend the concept.

    Just agony. In every fiber of my being. Just agony.

    And then it stopped. Like someone flipped a switch, the pain, the color, the saturation, the invigoration that led to degeneration and reformation to be dissolved again¡­ it was over. And all I could feel was a cold floor under me as I stared at a grey stone ceiling. Square stones, held in place by a grid of wood beams secured with metal fasteners. I only had enough time to notice the construction of the ceiling because I couldn¡¯t move any part of my body, even my eyes. From the side, I could hear movement that approached me. Then I was manhandled.

    I couldn¡¯t see what was happening very well, but some people in what seemed like matching outfits with dull metal parts on them attached something around my neck and wrists. Handcuffs maybe? Are these guys campus security or something? Wait, they¡¯re saying something, words I can¡¯t understand, in a language I don¡¯t comprehend. It¡¯s definitely not asian, and it doesn¡¯t seem to be latin based. None of the slinky vowels that the African dialects had in that video game I played had. Sure as hell wasn¡¯t english. As the men began to drag me across this room, a big room it seemed, I wondered where the hell I was.

    Then that butt ugly face filled my view. It said something to me in that language, and waited for a response. The ugly guy who¡¯s face looked like a lumpy slab of meat with salt and peppered hair glued on spoke again, saying the exact same thing. Over and over. Somehow, the words started making sense.

    ¡°-ur name! Say your name!¡±

    The guy was close enough, right in my face, for his breath to fill my nose with the stink of his yellowed teeth. Or it should have. It was right about then I realized I wasn¡¯t breathing. When had I stopped?

    Lumpy face started shouting louder, always saying the same thing. Then he grabbed my neck and began to squeeze. It didn¡¯t really do anything to me, what with the whole not breathing thing, but it pissed me off something fierce. If I could move I¡¯d give the guy a nut shot, then headbutt his nose. I may not be strong, but my father taught me never to be a victim, and school taught me that the winners write history. ¡®Win when you have to, however you have¡¯ to is one of my mottoes that I make up whenever I feel like I should have one. But once again, it¡¯s a moot point since I can¡¯t move.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Oh, the guy let go, finally. Seems someone was called over. Oh! A pretty brunette in something like a lab coat. She seemed to be a little older than me, but not by much. I didn¡¯t have much time to study her because she instantly shone some kind of bright light from her fingers into my eyes, each in turn, when she knelt over me. Great, I can¡¯t move and now I can¡¯t see anything but sunspots.

    ¡°No contraction in the eyes,¡± the woman said. ¡°Another corpse.¡±

    Whoa, wait, I¡¯m dead? I don¡¯t feel dead. Don¡¯t go killing me off like this, lady!

    ¡°Well, at least this one didn¡¯t explode,¡± quipped Lumpy.

    Explode? Hey, what the hell- that¡¯s¡­ why¡­ everything¡¯s going fuzzy?

    ¡°Drop the body¨C dissect¡ª- more experiments¨C¡±

    The sunspots cover everything now. The sounds around me dissappear. The sensation of my back being dragged across stone fades. Maybe this really is death? I wonder¡­ what comes¡­ next¡­

    * * * * *

    In one of the many gold and white marble cathedrals of the Holy Capital, amidst the smell of stale incense used to fight the combined musk of hundreds of believers that pack themselves into the building on a regular schedule, a violent purple light illuminated the area behind the wall sealing off the sacred ground. Pulsing at a beat too quick to be called anything but a warning, the ceiling itself reflected the urgency to the acolytes who maintain the church and the guards who protect it until the cardinal in charge of the cathedral was led in.

    The cardinal, garbed in lavender, white, and gold, strode purposefully to the great door where he cut a thin wound to his palm and pressed the hand dripping with his living blood against the door¡¯s seal. The lock and the chain shackles that bound the door unwound themselves at the cardinal¡¯s command, allowing him to stride past the doors as they opened under their own power, the ancient hinges working soundlessly. Inside the sacred ground was bare earth instead of marble and stone floors in a perfect square, with a single object in the center.

    It was not a statue, even though it held a sense of beauty blessed to it by its workmanship. It was not a pillar, for it supported nothing but it¡¯s own enormous weight. What it was, was a tool. In the shape of a beautiful winged woman, bent over a sphere that repeatedly radiated the unsettling violet light, several shades darker than the lavender the cardinal wore. Upon seeing the light¡¯s source for himself, a cold sweat broke out on the cardinal¡¯s body as he mechanically stepped closer to the tool, his own moderate stature being dwarfed by it¡¯s size.

    In a voice filled with personal horror, the cardinal spoke aloud to no one.

    ¡°It is true then. A Demon King has been born.¡±

 Chapter 2: Awake

    ¡°BWAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaHHH!¡±

    With an enormous gasp, I finally breathed. Like being born, my lungs greedily devoured the air I swallowed down my throat. I choked on nothing as my lungs struggled with expelling stale air while hungrily trying to replace it with fresh oxygen. The pain and internal struggle from that sensation caused my body to flop like a fish out of water, and I fell over from what I was perched upon, flattening on the cold ground that greeted me like an old frenemy. My eyes started to refocus, and struggling to even my breathing, I looked around me. I didn¡¯t really like what I saw.

    I was in what looked like a cross between a morgue, with corpse drawers and gurneys with red stained linen covering cadaver shaped mounds, and a mad scientist¡¯s work room, with jars of fluids filled with every disgusting shape known to man. ...I¡¯m seriously hoping that jar there doesn¡¯t contain what I think it does.

    With a grimace, my hands reflexively moved to cover my groin.

    No, no, move past that. Gather info. First things first, is my body alright?

    I stood up and started a visual check of my body. After a thorough check of my body that included flexing my muscles (lol) I concluded that my perfectly unexercised, thin, and unsexy body was completely without wounds. Even my back was without any injury despite clearly remembering that I was dragged along a cold hard floor. How did I check my back? Well, I¡¯m double jointed in the shoulders, so I was able to pat down the entirety of my own back on my own. My double jointed shoulders are also good for party tricks.

    And during my self-inspection, I came to realize I was kidnapped in my sleep since I was wearing my purple sweat pants I used for pajamas. They¡¯ve been my sleep companion long enough that jokes like ¡°You wouldn¡¯t like me when I¡¯m sleepy¡± became commonplace with my various roommates. So the good news is I¡¯m not naked, and the bad news is that I¡¯m all but. I think I¡¯d be fairly noticeable if I tried to sneak around like this. So let¡¯s look for some clothing. Or some socks at least. Wow this floor is cold. Anyway, I¡¯ve been left alone for now so this is pretty much my best chance to do something.

    Thinking that, I started searching the mad scientist¡¯s playroom. I first checked the large cabinets for any lab coats, but they only had vials of strange things. Best not to think about them too much. Then I checked large drawers, but they were some kind of filing cabinets or filled with jars of more strange things. I decided that I didn¡¯t see those things either and eventually moved on to the drawers of a work desk where I finally found what seemed like a pair of pantyhose.

    At around the time I was coldly gazing at the disappointing find I held held stretched out in my hands I heard a voice behind me say, ¡°What the hell?!¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Turning my head I saw one of those guys wearing that outfit with the metal bits on it with a face filled with surprise. He seemed to have frozen, not unlike me. I decided to act quickly.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t what it looks like,¡± I stated adamantly. It would be bad if there was a misunderstanding. I¡¯m not into women¡¯s clothing.

    The uniformed guy didn¡¯t seem to care about my denial and charged forward, reaching out to grab me. I dropped the pantyhose, grabbed the guy back by the collar of his uniform, and pivoted my body to throw him using his own momentum to slam him harder. It worked out unexpectedly well as he struck back first against a metal refrigeration cabinet hard enough to dent the surface where he dropped to the ground like a ragdoll. I waited for a moment in a ready stance just in case, but the guy showed no sign of moving. In this situation I¡¯d throw a shoe at him to make sure he was down or something, but I didn¡¯t have anything handy for trying it. Except the specimen jars, but I sure as hell wasn¡¯t gonna touch them.

    Seeing no alternative, I investigated the guy myself. Turns out I slammed him hard enough to knock the guy unconscious. And he¡¯s fairly close to my own body dimensions. Looks I just found some clothing. Score!

    I quickly started stripping the guy starting with his upper body, and then bound his hands to the structure of the bolted down work desk using some leather restraining straps I found earlier and had decided I hadn¡¯t seen. I¡¯m not into other people¡¯s hobbies. After securing the guy¡¯s hands, I then shoved the pantyhose into his mouth for a gag. And to muffle his cries for help. Bazinga!

    After all was said and done, I was garbed in a uniform shirt that was too large, as it was fitted for a muscular frame, pants that were too short, since I have long legs, and boots that were uncomfortably tight due to my wide feet. If it was just the sizing of the clothes I wouldn¡¯t be nearly so creeped out right now, but the metal bits attached to the uniform? They were armored reinforcements. There was some kind of breastplate covering the rib cage on the outside of the shirt¡¯s fasteners that attached over the shoulders and under the armpits with adjustable leather straps. The internal lining of the uniform seemed to have chainmail covering the entire torso between the cloth layers, and fucking pauldrons covering the ball and socket joints. Thankfully the sleeves were normal, but the pants also had plates of armor covering the front of the thighs with insewn belts of leather to be adjusted to size. This forest green and dark metal uniform just screamed generic fantasy to me. Was I kidnapped by some Ren-Fair loonies?

    Oh, but wait, it gets weirder! The guy I just stripped? Guess what he had on his belt? He had a sword. An actual, real, metal sword. And it¡¯s not a reproduction item either. I pulled a few papers from the desk, folded them, and cut through the crease with the blade. The papers were cut. They were not torn through by focused pressure on a single dull point. No. The edges were cut cleanly, no fraying. The sword I held in my hand was properly sharpened as a tool for killing.

    With an exhale of resolve, I sheathed the sword on my waist and mumbled, ¡°I¡¯d rather have a gun, but it¡¯ll do.¡±

    Having strengthened my resolution to kill, I strode out of the strange lab, trying to make myself look like I belonged there.

 Chapter 3: Screaming

    ¡°Why the hell can I read this?¡±

    I asked myself that question while standing in the middle of an unoccupied hall, staring at a door with a label for Cleaning Supplies printed across it in white hand-printed paint. It very obviously says Cleaning Supplies¡­ but not in English, or any other language I¡¯d ever seen or heard of. Hence my asking that question, because I could read and understand the words before me.

    I also knew that the door¡¯s label was spelled using a language that had a 34 letter alphabet that contained all the same sounds from the latin alphabet, but where the letter for C does double duty to cover the sound for K, and many of the extra letters were combinations of letters to cover sounds like SH and GR like how the A and E of aether gets pulled into a single combined letter in popular fantasy entertainment that is trying to convey a sense of magical wonder.

    I even understood the grammatical rules of this damn language that I didn¡¯t even know the name of, and I could probably write a thesis with flawless sentence structure in it. My penmanship would probably be second grader level, though, since I¡¯d never spent a day in my life learning to write with the characters.

    ¡°Why. The HELL. Can I read this?¡±

    My brain was vapor locked. Completely impossible. Damn it. Impossible.

    Fuck it. Leave brain-busters for later, just find the way out.

    It¡¯d been about two minutes since I stole out into the hall looking for the exit, and I¡¯d yet to pass by anyone in the halls. I¡¯d seen people of both genders walking through intersections or idling from far away, but whatever this place was it wasn''t very populated. Understaffed in my opinion. I chose the word understaffed because the entire place has a vaguely military feel about it. Blank walls, straight lines everywhere, and no attempts at spending anything more than bare bottom dollar to construct anything. It had a soulless feeling that I hadn¡¯t felt since walking through the halls of my old high school, and at least that had shitty murals every once in awhile to at least try and keep the students from killing themselves out of despair. And every one of the people I saw from a distance had the same outfit I was wearing, meaning it¡¯s a uniform or ceremonial garb of some kind.

    And since all the wacko religions and killer cults I¡¯d heard of had a modicum of interior design that trended towards propaganda, that left military. Which brought me back to the dead end question of why would someone, military especially, want to kidnap me?

    Aaaaand I pushed that question aside as well as I went back to looking for a way out. At about the time I turned a corner and found a rather promising set of reinforced double doors at the end of another long and vacant hallway I heard some screaming. No, some screaming was an understatement. Hearing those screams reminded me of that scene in The Princess Bride, where the screams of the hero¡¯s suffering could be heard across the entire countryside, leaving the entire populace stunned by it¡¯s sheer animalistic agony. And then I recalled, with a shiver, the pain that bleached my brain white no more than a few hours ago.

    Shit. And I was doing such a good job of repressing that memory by concentrating on my own mortal peril.

    It was at this moment that I thought of my father. He was a police officer in a medium sized town for the best part of thirty years. He¡¯d shot at and been shot at. He¡¯d seen things that would make people vomit and flesh crawl. He¡¯d seen three day old heroin OD corpses in hot tubs, made jokes about them, and went home to be a loving husband and father to a kid that was as unalike him as humanly possible. My father made a lot of attempts to find common ground with me. He''d spent my entire life trying to teach me and instill values in me, some with better results than others. One thing he instilled in me was having my Fight or Flight reflex default to Fight 100% of the time.

    Thanks a lot, dad. /sarcasm

    Abandoning my potential escape, I started hunting for the source of the screaming. It was rather easy, really. All the right angles, narrow halls, and straight edges kept echos to a minimum. As I was closing in I passed right by one of the people who might be a soldier, but I slipped past unnoticed because he was holding both his ears as he put distance between him and the source of the screaming. I did not find the source quickly. It took several minutes to track down. But the screaming never ended but for brief pauses for breath, and only increased in it¡¯s tone of fathomless agony.

    By the time I reached the deepest part of the base my back was cold from sweat and I was clamping my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. Standing before a pair of flimsy double doors with simple knobs, I took a deep breath, opened one, slipped inside with the quietest movement I could make, and closed the door behind me.

    I entered a large chamber, with walls formed from brown rock denoting a natural chamber that had had a floor and a ceiling installed to make it serviceable for whatever the hell was happening. Inside the grand open chamber there were five people aside from myself. One was the brunette in the lab coat, standing amidst three men wearing their uniforms. One of the three seemed to be Lumpy, the other two I didn¡¯t know. Honestly, I only noticed that group from the periphery of my vision, because almost the whole of my attention was taken up by the center of the great chamber.

    There was a pair of circles etched into stone tiles set in the ground and ceiling, with detailing I could not make out from my current position. The circles were at least thirty feet in diameter, and within that diameter was a cylinder of swirling, jumbling, blending, bending, jumping, thumping, rumbling, twisting, caressing, assaulting, roaring, soaring lights of every different color that has or never will exist.

    The fifth person in the room was floating inside that mass of¡­ light. She was screaming her guts out. I might not have meant that metaphorically.

    As the lights struck, caressed, assailed¡­ no, no more adjectives. As the lights and colors connected with her, the woman, or girl? How old was she? Her body¡¯s shape would distort like an image in curved glass, but often with sharper angles. She was not wholly there, either. Many sections of her were not wholly opaque, I felt. Parts were translucent, or see through. As if she was there, but not really there, and those places of her body changed like the flowing of a wave on an otherwise calm sheet of water. It was as if a tug of war was being played between two different spatial points, and her body was the rope.

    The urge to vomit was nearly overpowering, and the acrid sensation of bile stung the tongue that had only been tasting the bitterness of adrenaline for a while now. When I had finished struggling to swallow my sickness the colors of the circle snapped into a single shade of dark purple, and the woman¡¯s form became wholly solid and her figure was no longer bent. But her screaming reached a new crescendo as if something that had been causing her lasting pain had suddenly been torn away, causing a new and greater agony in that fraction of a second that bled into a lasting aftereffect even when the pain should have already ended. Then the woman floated lightly to the ground, face up, unmoving, vacant eyes staring at the ceiling, and the colored light about her vanished.

    The two anonymous soldiers cantered up to the woman on the stone floor, one of them holding some kind of chains and shackles. Then they grabbed the woman and chained her neck and hands up before grabbing her legs to drag her along the ground.

    Like I said before, my reflex defaults to Fight.

    ¡°Get the fuck off her,¡± I shouted in my adrenaline blasted lapse of judgement. I instantly regretted it, without actually regretting it. Every fiber of my being wanted to smash some people¡¯s faces in, and this was a very good reason to do so.

    Four sets of eyes turned to me, three hostile, the last quizzical. That last pair belonged to the lab coat woman, who, after a moment, cut off the lumpy faced goon who was asking who the hell I was. She pretty much answered the question by saying, ¡°He¡¯s test subject one forty seven! Incredible, I was certain he was dead!¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    With only a twitch of the eyebrows, a flick of the eye, and a grimace of aggression, Lumpy ordered his men to ¡°Secure him!¡± The soldiers pulled the swords at their waists free of their scabbards and swiftly advanced on me, full of confidence that I¡¯d either run like a little girl or put up a meager resistance. After all, they had seen the muscles of my body that could only be called ¡°serviceable.¡±

    As the first of the two soldiers closed the last few paces to me, the lab coat lady cried out, ¡°Do not hurt him, he¡¯s a valuable specimen!¡±

    Her words were overshadowed by the pain filled screaming of the soldier that attacked me first.

    By the time he got into range, I already had my own short sword free and gripped like a novice in my right hand. I had no idea how swordplay actually worked outside of theory from video games and movies, so I only used it to block the soldier¡¯s attack and change the position of his sword from his right to his left side. That gave me a clear shot to thrust the first two knuckles of my left hand directly into his windpipe. It wasn¡¯t a jab, though the movement was just as sharp, and the fingers never clenched into a fist. It wasn¡¯t a chop, as the wrist was turned about thirty degrees instead of being held straight. What it was, was one of the moves I had learned from the five years of martial arts training my father forced me to take as a kid.

    It was one of the moves I held onto tightly as I aged, shadowboxing with it in empty rooms at random to keep the feeling in my body, just in case, as it did not require trained muscles in order to hurt or incapacitate an assailant. And this guy was definitely hurt by it. His eyes teared in an instant and he choked on his own breath. The strength in his sword arm wavered just enough for me to shift my center of gravity without breaking from the sword deadlock, bring my right foot up past my left knee, and then drive it down into the soldier¡¯s left knee like I was impaling it with a spear.

    I¡¯m sure everyone has seen that move in TV and the movies. The hero kicks some guy¡¯s knee, causing it to bend and the guy to kneel in the dirt. That¡¯s not how it works in reality, when the recipient is someone other than a trained stuntman expecting the hit. This soldier¡¯s knee broke. It caved under the weight of my kick and bent backwards, causing the soldier to howl in pain interspersed with fits of coughing as he didn¡¯t know which part of his body to cradle first, his windpipe or his shattered knee. He¡¯d probably never walk without a limp, but seeing as how he pulled a weapon on me, I didn¡¯t actually give a damn.

    The second guy was only a few paces after the first, his eyes went wide for a moment before he gripped his sword with both hands to put killing force behind his strike. Seeing what I¡¯d done, he wasn¡¯t about to go easy on me for a second. I wasn¡¯t about to eat an attack from that guy with my puny arm muscles, so I stepped back, spun on my right leg, and dropped a spinning axe kick down on his left shoulder (though I was aiming for the head), breaking the collarbone, interrupting the swing he''d readjusted so as to compensate for my back step, destroying his posture while clouding his mind with the intense pain that only comes from a broken bone. The soldier dropped to his knee from the weight of the pain and my leg strength. While my upper body was wimpy, I¡¯d always been proud of my lower body strength, and concentrated only on keeping that up to snuff as I aged.

    I worked out three times a week in the campus fitness room, on cycling machines, treadmills, and leg presses, making sure that if I ever needed them, for walking, fleeing, or fighting, my legs would be up to the challenge. And to have a nice ass, that¡¯s another perk. Unlike upper body strength, the leg muscles helped me out on a practical level every day, even though they¡¯re not as visible as juiced out pecs or pointlessly ripped biceps. As a result, no one could tell at a glance that I was fighting fit, not even these guys who¡¯d dragged me about like a random corpse. They probably never thought to check under the purple sweat pants, after all.

    That might explain the sense of surprise I could see mixed with unconcealed pain in the second soldier¡¯s eyes as I brought the pommel of the sword in my hand down on his temple. The blow either knocked him out by concussing his brain, or shattered the bone, driving splinters into the grey matter, which would have killed him instantly. I didn¡¯t really care, as he attacked me with the intent to kill.

    It may seem pretty savage, a computer nerd breaking joints, bones, and potentially crippling parts of the body that life itself depended upon their proper working condition. But that¡¯s what real martial arts are, and that¡¯s what I spent five years learning. I hadn¡¯t used any of it in any of the school yard brawls I got into as a kid, because some dipshit three chairs down from me didn¡¯t deserve to be eating through a tube for the rest of his life. This was the first time I¡¯d used real martial arts, and I didn¡¯t have any feelings about it either way. It was just cold logic. Meet killing intent with killing intent.

    And at that moment, I was turning my killing intent on Lumpy.

    He obviously wasn¡¯t giving up, and I was glad about that in my heart of hearts. I was furious in a way that rarely happened to me. All thoughts in my mind were washed over by a tide of burning red hatred. The last time this had happened, I nearly snatched up some asshole¡¯s radio and beat him over the head with it because he¡¯d spent an hour mocking me at random to the background noise of shitty country musicians, whining about booze, losing their women, and crashing their cars, without thinking that the three might be interconnected. It takes every single ounce of willpower to keep from beating the living shit out of a guy that pisses me off to that degree, and right then, I wasn¡¯t in the mood to hold back. So when Lumpy pulled out a truncheon not unlike one of those old fashioned police nightsticks that¡¯s just a handle attached to a beating stick, I was glad. So I charged Lumpy, leaving the soldiers on the ground behind me.

    I wasn¡¯t sure what I was going to do when I reached him. Maybe swing the sword, do a jump kick to pulverize his rib cage with my entire body weight, or joint lock him and make him give up. I was acting on instincts, not thought. But what I saw him do forced one very specific thought through my head. That thought was, ¡±Oh, HELL no!¡±

    In accordance to Lumpy holding up his truncheon and saying ¡°Fire,¡± a sphere of flame the size of a tennis ball appeared, floating in mid air, it¡¯s position very solidly a set distance from the truncheon tip. It took a full second for the ball of fire to form, dipping and quivering back and forth in accordance to the truncheon tip, and in that time some fighting instinct that I¡¯d formed from the dojo and whatever wackado sci-fi entertainment I¡¯d been exposed to in my life told me, through my primeval lizard brain, ¡°Even if you have no fucking idea how this is happening, you know he¡¯s going to throw that like a baseball player. Don¡¯t get hit!¡±

    As Lumpy brought his truncheon down in my direction, more like a lacrosse player than a baseball pitcher, my body made another move that had been drilled into me in my childhood that my body never truly forgot.

    As Lumpy said the word ¡°Bolt,¡± the fireball left the tip of his truncheon, firing straight at me, as expected. I feared I was half a step too late, but tried to dodge it anyway by planting my left foot a little further out than it should have been during a flat out run and pushed against my own velocity to cause my body to spin on my outstretched right leg the moment it landed. It was an old move I¡¯d learned as a running back when I¡¯d tolerated two years of little league football, and had been good enough at using that it¡¯d gotten me more than a couple of touchdowns. This time, it¡¯d gotten me out of the path of a potentially fatal attack.

    As my body spun, I felt an intense heat pass by me that I could feel through the layers of metal and cloth the stolen uniform was constructed from, and as I came out of the spin I heard a loud explosion from far behind me where that ball of flame had impacted. The explosion was far louder than I had expected, meaning that whatever that attack was, it would probably have killed me the moment it¡¯d touched me. I couldn¡¯t let Lumpy get a second one of those off.

    As I closed the remaining distance I took a two handed grip on the short sword I held, and plunged it through Lumpy''s chest. His eyes had already gone wide when I dodged his attack, but as I plunged the sword through his heart, they nearly bulged out of their sockets. The force of my charge caused the sword to pierce all the way to the hilt, which stopped hard in my hands and caused the rest of my momentum to turn into blunt force, pushing Lumpy a few feet back through the air. I came to something of a stumbling halt as it was only Lumpy¡¯s flesh that had served to check my charge, and it was only a singular act of dexterity that kept me from getting entangled with the dead man as I danced past his limp limbs on the floor as my hands released the hilt of the sword.

    As I glanced down at Lumpy, I didn¡¯t really feel anything from having definitely, intentionally, killed a man. If my conscience had needed coaxing, I suppose words like, ¡°Kill or be killed¡± would have come to mind, but it didn¡¯t and they didn¡¯t. All I knew was that I was still angry. At that time I heard something off to my side, like the surprised hiccup of a small dog. Turning to look, there was the brunette in the lab coat who had ducked behind a control panel of some kind at some point.

    She had a naturally pretty face that held no hint of cosmetics. A good bone structure and a complexion without any obvious flaws. She wasn¡¯t beautiful, but the combination of her features made her well put together. And her deep brown hair was tied into a loose bun on the back of her head with long thick wisps of hair framing her features irregularly. It was an artless artistry, an allure brought about by random chaos rather than deliberate negligence. Her emotive brown eyes were opened wide in fear and shock as her thin jaw trembled in the moment we made eye contact, which caused her to turn and run for the exit.

    I quickly caught up to her and her untrained legs, grabbed her by the back of her lab coat, pulled her back and threw her to the floor. Her looks didn¡¯t move me. Her choked begging didn¡¯t make me hesitate. Her crawling backwards on the ground didn¡¯t stop my pacing towards her, keeping an even distance between us. All I cared about was that I was still angry.

    And she called me a ¡°specimen.¡±

 Chapter 4: Mercy

    He, Specimen 147, had entered the Summoning Chamber at some point. Doesn¡¯t really matter when, but it was the most pleasant surprise I¡¯d had all month. It meant that there had finally been a successful experiment. He seemed to have something of a crass mouth, but I was greatly looking forward to performing a complete physical examination once he was properly contained. Preferably without harming him, so I called out to Colonel Braug¡¯s adjutants to prevent any unnecessary damage.

    To my horror, it seemed my concerns were unwarranted.

    Specimen 147 was a young man of approximately twenty years of age with straight brown hair that was fairly short, but slightly longer than it should have been, as if he were overdue for a haircut. He was several inches taller than average height, just breaking over six feet or so with long limbs. But his tall body was thin and seemed incompatible with combat of any kind. His white body was also pale in a way that suggested that he had the luxury of avoiding going outdoors for most of his life, meaning there was absolutely no reason to believe he was physically competent in any way. Yet he tore Colonel Braug¡¯s adjutants apart in moments.

    The adjutants were highly trained and experienced soldiers, hand picked by the Colonel to be his all purpose bodyguards and assistants. They were skilled warriors who had undoubtedly survived several subjugation campaigns and border skirmishes. And when they had used their Reinforcement, they quickly moved two or three times as fast as any normal person. Yet Specimen 147 had moved faster.

    The fight was a blur that ended in seconds. I had not invested any magic into my eyes, so I couldn¡¯t be certain, but it seemed Specimen 147 had used some unheard of combat style that used the legs as the primary weapon. It had been terribly effective, as the adjutants¡¯ bodies were bent in abhorrent ways on the ground, which was apparently not enough for Specimen 147, as he struck the second adjutant while he was down. I jumped when Specimen 147 struck with the sword pommel, I could hear the blow from where I stood. Then Specimen 147 looked towards me and the Colonel. I was unsure what to do, the¡­ the violence of it all was so shocking, but then the Colonel pulled free his battle focus and channeled his magic into a spell.

    With a gasp, I dove behind the console. I did not know much military gossip, but I knew that the Colonel was a man who was known for disregarding his surroundings in a battle, having lead to a court martial before now, and I had no wish to be scalded. Hiding my body, I poked only my head around the corner to observe the imminent demise of Specimen 147, this time placing magic in my eyes to properly observe the poor man¡¯s end in case there are any physical abnormalities in his passing. There was no guarantee a person from another world would be immolated in the same way as people from my own.

    Ahhh, it¡¯s too bad I won¡¯t be able to examine him or his body. Perhaps I¡¯ll get lucky and Specimen 148 will somehow survive as well? Goddess willing.

    Colonel Braug¡¯s Fire Bolt was as fast as I¡¯d heard, releasing the sound of a sharp thud as the air was displaced by its release. Like a blur, it streaked into Specimen 147. Except it didn¡¯t. Somehow, Specimen 147¡¯s figure blurred, even to my own reinforced eyes, and the Fire Bolt passed through the space he should still have been occupying. When the blurred movement ended, Specimen 147 was running at his former pace again as I reflexively flinched, closing my eyes from the Fire Bolt explosion. When I opened my eyes again, Specimen 147 was standing over the Colonel, whose blood was pouring out of a death wound in his chest.

    A shiver ran through my body. Then Specimen 147 looked at me directly. I could only think to run. I only got a few steps before I felt the collar of my coat as Specimen 147 grabbed me and threw me down, the impact pushing the air from my lungs. Frantically, I turned to look at the man I had just failed to run from.

    He stood looming over me, as still as a stone sentinel. His head and face were a gentle oval with no jagged features and possessing gentle curves. But his face was completely expressionless, but for a strained jaw and a tightness around the eyes. His features were cold and detached. Somehow, that scared me far more than if Specimen 147 was shouting and ranting. At some point, I realized I was trying to crawl away from Specimen 147, shuffling backwards on my backside, unwilling to turn my back on him again. But I could open no distance from him.

    ¡°Please,¡± I begged, my voice quavering, ¡°Please, don¡¯t hurt me.¡±

    His features remained unchanged in the face of my plea.

    The words, ¡°I don¡¯t want to die,¡± slipped out of my mouth before I was even aware of them. But Specimen 147 continued advancing without change. Then, my hand slipped on something, and I fell backwards upon it. It was Specimen 148, a blonde woman even younger than 147, garbed in a thick sweater and trousers of some blue material. Oh, no, I took my eyes off 147!The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    I swiftly raised my gaze back to Specimen 147, afraid that he¡¯d sprung upon me in my moment of inattention, but he was still looming over me. His eyes were no longer locked upon me either, as they had flicked over to Specimen 148 right under me. Before I could think of a direction to flee towards, 147¡¯s eyes returned to me and he spoke. His words were smoothly uttered in a low voice, though each one had an emphasis on it as though a period formed after every syllable.

    ¡°Take Those Off Her.¡±

    Somewhere in the back of my mind I remarked upon how the language matrix in the Circle was a success as the rest of me panicked, afraid of failing Specimen 147¡¯s demand. With dread in my heart, I could force out the word, ¡°K - key.¡±

    Specimen 147 unclenched his jaw to speak again, but the tension did not leave it, as he ordered, ¡°Get It.¡±

    I bobbed a hasty nod as I scurried like an animal over to Colonel Braug¡¯s body that had fallen on it¡¯s side, and searched his belt. His blood soaked my hands, and it seemed I was shaking convulsively as my fingers felt around, increasing the time the task was taking me. Specimen 147 didn¡¯t say a word of impatience, I could only feel his cold gaze upon my back, unnerving me more and more. Upon finding the collar¡¯s key, I fairly ran back to Specimen 148 on the floor, hurriedly unlocking the cuffs and collar before standing up to present them to Specimen 147 as though they were a trophy or a peace offering, some semblance of hope forming as I did so.

    My hope was dashed as Specimen 147 said, still in his punctuated words, ¡°Put It On.¡± But I just took them off, and he want¡¯s me to put them back on 148?

    ¡°Yourself.¡±

    Oh, Goddess, no. Please.

    ¡°Do It,¡± he stated, as though sensing my hesitance.

    I had never attached one of these things before, but I had no other choice but to figure it out. Looping the metal banded leather collar around my neck, I closed and tightened the material until there was a click, signalling it¡¯s closing. The chain that hung from the collar extended downward, where two cuffs hung from it, swaying like a pendulum. Taking hold of the leather and metal cuffs, I slowly closed them around my own wrists as though I were walking to the gallows. As the clasps closed, sealing them upon my wrists, I held them up to Specimen 147 to show my compliance.

    Somehow, it¡¯s only now that I could feel tears running down my face.

    Specimen 147 took the key from my grasp and asked me a question, his voice somewhat relaxed, but still cold.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    Oh no no no no, please no no no.

    ¡°Your name,¡± he demanded this time.

    Somehow, I¡¯m shaking my head back and forth in denial. I¡¯m slowly stepping back from him. When did I start?

    His hand flashes out like a striking viper, closing around my throat just tight enough to prevent any escape, but it still hurt, even without any force in his grip. Instinctively, I knew. He could end me with a single constriction.

    ¡°Tell Me Your Name,¡± he demanded, punctuating his words again. His light brown eyes with green flecks were staring into my own, his willpower beating itself into me. Then his eyes exploded in color. The brown burst into a deep crimson red, the green flickered like the burning orange embers of a fire. If felt like his gaze alone was searing into my soul, and I released a scream that could have actually been a sob at the sight.

    ¡°Mercedes Vhon! I¡¯m Mercedes Vhon!¡±

    The curse activated. The chain dissolved into grey smoke and streaked into my mouth and nostrils. I choked on the acridness as the smoke pushed deeper into my body, and I could swear I could taste it enter my brain. I convulsed wordlessly once, and then my knees gave out. My now chainless hands caught me before I struck against the stone floor, but I was bound by something far worse than rattling metal.

    I had just been enslaved to Specimen 147.

    * * * * *

    The heck just happened?

    Dissolving metal? And what¡¯s up with the drama? I just wanted to know what to call the woman, since it would be really awkward to be calling her ¡°scientist¡± from now on. I only wanted a hostage that could answer my questions and get me out of this place, and now Mercedes was weeping on the ground.

    I couldn¡¯t even stay mad any more, it was just too weird.

    With a deep sigh, all my aggression and pent up fear were expelled from my body as a heavy fatigue fell on top of me. It felt like I¡¯d been worn emotionally raw, and a crying woman wasn¡¯t helping matters any. How was it that a genuinely upset woman could make you feel like you¡¯re the bad guy even after being kidnapped and attacked by swords and fire thingamajigs?

    Kneeling down, I touched her shoulder, which initially cringed at my touch as I said in my most soothing voice, which I usually only used on my mother¡¯s dog.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Mercedes. You¡¯re okay. You¡¯re O K. Is it alright if I call you Mercy?¡±

 Chapter 5: Enslavement Collar

    ¡°Well, that escalated quickly.¡±

    I¡¯m not quite sure when everything went so pear shaped¡­ well, that¡¯s not quite true, I¡¯ve been screwed since I woke up, but now whatever Lumpy did blasted down the thin double doors that had been closed behind me, and¡­ yup, definitely killed the two guys I¡¯d KOed before. Jesus, it¡¯s like a grenade went off.

    No one could have ignored the commotion just now. I¡¯m gonna have to move fast if I wanna get any kind of head start. Maybe pass myself off as evacuating Mercy? And the girl. Let¡¯s go with that.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I stated emphatically to the slightly calmer Mercy, whose trembling and weeping had subsided, ¡°I¡¯m going to need a stretcher or a gurney to move the girl. We¡¯re going to play it like she was injured in an accident and get the hell out before people come to see what went boom. Come on, Mercy, you¡¯re on deck.¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s going to come here,¡± said Mercy, listlessly but with absolute certainty.

    I was about to kick up to third gear, but that tone of voice gave me pause. I need to know what she knows. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they come? Shit blew up. People always check on shit that blows up.¡±

    ¡°Not here, not this. None of the soldiers here have clearance to enter this room, and even if they did, I¡¯m pretty sure they wouldn¡¯t want to, under any circumstances. They don¡¯t like the yelling or the clean up.¡±

    That¡¯s¡­ convenient. No, too convenient. ¡°No offense, but how am I supposed to trust anything you say, Mercy? You work here after all.¡±

    ¡°Not anymore,¡± Mercy almost sobbed out. ¡°I¡¯m Enslaved to you now. I can¡¯t betray you, disobey you, or knowingly place you in danger. So it¡¯s the truth when I say that no one is going to come in here unless ordered to by the Colonel, and, well, he¡¯s¡­¡±

    Mercy came to a choked halt. Guess she¡¯s not accustomed to death.

    ¡°Okay, Mercy, it¡¯s alright, I¡¯ll believe you for now. But, uh, how are you enslaved to me?¡±

    Mercy sniffed loudly, then began a quavering explanation. ¡°The Enslavement Collar¡­ when you forced me to tell you my name it was the Key of Submission. I gave in to the Demand of Identity which allowed the collar¡¯s curse to activate. As a result, if I try to perform an act of Disobedience, the Curse of Binding Chains will kill me from the inside out.¡±

    ¡°Curse?¡± Wow, this is such a shady story.

    ¡°Yes, you should have seen the chains that dissolved to smoke? That was the inactive curse, laying dormant. The smoke entered my body and will bind me until I die.¡±

    ¡°Or I do,¡± I said cynically.

    ¡°The Curse is keyed to your life force, Specimen One Forty Seven. Your magical imprint. If that disappears from this world, the Curse will know, and it will punish me for not protecting you.¡±

    ¡°Wow¡­ Uh, sorry about that, then.¡±

    Mercy remained quiet. Guess she doesn¡¯t feel like accepting the apology. Awkward. Anywho, info, I need info.

    ¡°Anyway, Mercy, I need answers. Where am I and who are these people? You people, I guess? Why was I kidnapped?¡±

    Mercy looked me straight in the eyes, then for some reason looked away again quickly and stated with a tone of voice as if she were looking me in the eyes, ¡°You weren¡¯t kidnapped, One Forty Seven. You were summoned.¡±

    Maybe these guys are a wacko cult after all. ¡°Summoned? By, like, a higher power? I¡¯m the Holy Chosen One, or something? Cause I¡¯m not feeling very appreciated for being ¡®summoned¡¯ right now.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°No, no, not a Hero Summoning. Only the Goddess is able to enact that rite. And only at the Cathedral of Passage in the Holy Capital. ¡­What? Why are you looking at me like that?¡±

    Is it just me, or does this sound like the plot of some Japanese video game?

    ¡°Has a Demon King been revived or something? Cause I¡¯m not really interested in going on a quest of slowly increasing danger until I face off against the enemy of all life.¡±

    ¡°¡­I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t understand what you just said.¡±

    ¡°Nevermind. Just¡­ how was I summoned?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± exclaimed Mercy, rocketing up to her feet and talking with excitement while pointing with her fingers. ¡°By accumulating Magic Power in the quartz batteries, we were able to collect enough Power to activate the quad-layered circle, whose construction allowed the switching out of batteries without power bleed as long as we did it fast enough. Each layer is constructed with specific quantifications of search and retrieval for suitable subjects on the other side of the Void Divisions, much like the circle in the Cathedral, but without depending on the Goddess for empowerment or search criteria in the subject selection process, allowing a far greater degree of autonomy for activation, especially, since the quad-layer design retains some of the cast off-¡±

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Mercy pulled back like a startled mouse. Damn it, let¡¯s try again. ¡°Okay, Mercy, try explaining it to me like I don¡¯t have a master¡¯s degree in Fringe Science. Please?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Ummm¡­ okay. We, uh, use accumulated Magic Power to force a small hole in the barriers that keep our worlds apart, allowing the circle to search for someone suited to being a mighty warrior, and bring them here. The in depth theory is far more elegant, though. Since the search variables require a specific generalness in order to allow a proper sweep of the-¡±

    ¡°Stop that!¡± Ugh. She jumped again. She¡¯s the type that needs a babysitter, huh? ¡°Why. Me. Simply.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, I was ordered to have the search parameters bring us people who had the skill, will, power, and mental fortitude to kill people without feeling overly bad about it.¡±

    Did she just say that with an innocent face!? Was I mistaken for a serial killer!?

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve never killed anyone! ¡­Except that dude over there, but that was totally self defense. I don¡¯t fit your profile, Mercy. And why would you even want human time bombs like that?¡±

    ¡°To enslave them into a special experimental unit in the Fulchas Kingdom¡¯s military.¡±

    Again! With an innocent face! And they think I¡¯m the sociopath here!

    ¡°I¡¯m not cut out for the military! If I was ever drafted, I was gonna be a conscientious objector! You got the¡­ enslave?¡±

    Oh, crap. Dots just connected. I glanced at the girl on the ground, back at Mercy, or more specifically the collar on her throat and the bindings on her wrists. Then I felt my wrist, remembering the sensation of the bindings beforehand. The first thing that happened after I came too in this room was being handcuffed and Colonel Lumpy shouting at me to tell him my name.

    ¡°You tried to enslave me using that collar I had you wear, didn¡¯t you? And you were going to do the same thing to the girl I saw floating in the lights.¡±

    ¡°Well, yes. Otherworlders have only ever been summoned for their battle prowess, so the only ones who would be willing to fund this kind of research would be national militaries. The Fulchas Kingdom, specifically, like I said.¡±

    With a straight face. What the hell? Am I actually going crazy? No, no family history, no previous incidents, no exceptional ¡°stressors¡± as they call them on TV. I¡¯m not crazy.

    ¡°So, this guy is military? You said he was a Colonel? That¡¯s a high rank, but not the highest, right?¡±

    Mercy followed after me at four paces behind as I walked over to the guy I killed and really took a good look at him for the first time.

    ¡°Yes, one rank short of General. He¡¯s an important man. Was. Was an important man.¡±

    The Colonel¡¯s uniform is rather a lot alike the one I stole, the ones the two mooks burnt and shredded over there were wearing. But the pauldrons were more decorative, there¡¯s colored ribbons on his shoulders, and a sash of green and yellow across his chest with some insignia on it. He¡¯s wearing some kinda ascot around his neck, his pants are nicer than the ones I took, and his boots as well. Hmm. They might be closer to my size.

    I bent down, undid the laces, and started yanking on the boots to get them off as Mercy asked me, somewhat agast, ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Shopping.¡±

    No, seriously, I¡¯m not a sociopath. Practicality is not a mental illness. Besides, the boots did fit me better, after all. And there¡¯s no blood on his pants. They¡¯ll make a good pillow for the girl until she comes out of the death coma like I did, as long as I fold the cloth around the plates instead of the other way around. After pulling the pants free, the Colonel had been shifted around enough that his ascot was in disarray and I could see something around his neck I couldn¡¯t see before. It was a leather and metal choker collar. Exactly like the one Mercy was wearing now.

 Chapter 6: Magic

    ¡°Hey, Mercy,¡± I called, ¡°This guy¡¯s wearing a collar. Why is he wearing a collar?¡±

    ¡°He is?¡± She sounded genuinely surprised. ¡°Huh. I never noticed before. That¡¯s¡­ more than a little odd.¡±

    ¡°For what reason?¡±

    ¡°Because manufacturing or possessing even a single Enslavement Collar is grounds for being convicted of treason and executed by the kingdom. So I really wasn¡¯t expecting to see one on an officer in the military.¡±

    Seriously? ¡°Wait, then why did you have one for enslaving me in the first place?!¡±

    ¡°What are you saying, One Forty Seven,¡± asked Mercy with a purely quizzical look, ¡°This installation has been stocked with one hundred Enslavement Collars for use in the creation of the new military unit.¡±

    ¡°A hundred?! When you can be put to death for just one?! No, wait, that¡¯s not my business. But why are you using them on me and the girl?¡±

    Mercy then gave me that look that was reserved for only pointing out the obvious and said, ¡°What would be the point of summoning warriors from another world if they don¡¯t follow your orders?¡±

    Resisting the urge to smack Mercy upside the head, I recapped what I knew instead. ¡°So, a high ranking military officer is overseeing a military operation involving the creation of an experimental fighting force, enslaved to him, while he himself is enslaved to someone else? This reeks of conspiracy. We all need to get out of this place, immediately.¡±

    Especially since they had another ninety nine of those collars. That¡¯s more than enough to enslave me and the girl on the ground over there, and then it¡¯d be game over. I didn¡¯t have any confidence in being able to survive or escape from a proper military torture session. Time to re-arm and find a way out. I quickly grabbed the closest usable weapon, Lumpy¡¯s truncheon, as I had no intention of trying to yank the blood covered sword out of his chest. As soon as I picked it up, some kind of light shone brightly out of the tip like a flashlight, and then exploded like a faulty light bulb, some glittering powder flying out of the tip. I had no idea why that happened, but I¡¯m just glad the thing was pointing away from me when it did.

    ¡°Give me that,¡± cried Mercy, snatching the truncheon out of my hand. Geeze, excuse you.

    Mercy quickly began looking over the truncheon, and then looked down the end of the part that went flashbulb on me, upended it, and a fine clear granulated powder came out into the palm of her hand. ¡°Amazing,¡± she exclaimed. I got the feeling that I was missing something here.

    ¡°Hey, hello?¡± I said, reminding Mercy I existed. She reacted by snapping her body to face me, then approached like a striking adder and feeling me up all over my body. It was very surprising, and I may have shrieked a little like a startled child, though I¡¯d deny it if anyone asked, but Mercy¡¯s probing was not all that invasive. It was a check of my pulse through my wrist, groping my upper arm, tapping my chest with her ear against it, all the way up to the pulse of the arteries in my neck, until she was staring me directly in the eyes before uttering the word, ¡°Incredible.¡±

    Now, I¡¯m not against being groped by a lady, but there¡¯s a time and a place for that type of thing. ¡°What are you doing, Mercy?¡±

    ¡°I was checking your body.¡±

    ¡°For?¡±

    Mercy looked at me part appraisingly and part skeptically as she asked, ¡°Specimen One Forty Seven, how does magic work in your world?¡±

    I couldn¡¯t help but scoff aloud (never thought I¡¯d ever be one for scoffing) and replied, ¡°Magic isn¡¯t real. It¡¯s fairy tales and sleight of hand illusionists giving children a reason to believe in fantasy.¡±

    Very seriously, Mercy told me flat out, ¡°Magic is very much real here, Specimen One Forty Seven.¡±

    ¡°Stop calling me a Specimen.¡±

    ¡°In this world, every creature with enough physical capacity and mental ability can use magic of one kind or another. For the purpose of our conversation, they very strictly fall under the fields of Physical Reinforcement for men, and Magic Casting for women. Rarely, men can cast magic, and women can use reinforcement, and in those cases the individual in question has an advanced inborn aptitude for it, but no one. No one. Can use both. Except you, apparently.¡±

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll bite. How do you know this?¡±

    ¡°Well, I know you have Physical Reinforcement magic because you were able to keep up with Colonel Braug¡¯s adjutants in your vulgar display of brutish violence over there-¡±

    ¡°Hey, that wasn¡¯t vulgar.¡±

    ¡°-And when you avoided Colonel Braug¡¯s Fire Bolt immediately after. And just now, when you picked up the Colonel¡¯s focus, the pure quartz core overloaded and shattered. Someone with Physical Reinforcement can only circulate their reserve within their own body, but when you came in contact with the quartz a great deal of your reserve bled out, destroying the quartz entirely.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what¡¯s this ¡®reserve¡¯ you¡¯re talking about?¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Mercy straightened her back and held a finger upright as she explained, lifting another finger for every designator she expounded upon. She¡¯s totally in teacher mode. ¡°The first form is Mana. It¡¯s the raw form of magic energy that circulates through the world. Should Mana be stored inside a battery or powering a magic device, it becomes known as Magic Power. Conversely, when Mana resides in a person or creature, it becomes a Magic Reservoir, available for being tapped into and turned into the fourth form, proper Magic. This can be used in the form of spells, like what Colonel Braug displayed, or the advanced Physical Reinforcement you yourself showed. There are, of course, subspecies of magical definition and manifestation, but those are the broad points. And you knew nothing of this?¡±

    As if I could know that kind of Technobabble. No, Magibabble. ¡°Not a bit. Why are you telling me this?¡±

    ¡°I just told you, you can use both Magic Spells and Physical Reinforcement! My examination of you just now reinforced my conclusion. You yourself may not be aware of it, in fact that is likely, but you seem to be unconsciously making use of both channels of use for your Magic Reservoir. And even your unconscious use of your ability is great enough to surmount the gear and abilities of the other men in this room, all of which had undergone strict training in their respective abilities. You have never been trained, and you eclipsed them entirely! Don¡¯t you understand how incredible that is?¡±

    Mercy, your fascinated energy is not contagious. Please don¡¯t try and infect me with it. Besides, I think it was a combination of me getting lucky and the other guys underestimating me.

    ¡°No. I have no baseline by which to understand any of that.¡± Mercy deflated completely from my comment. ¡°Look, Mercy, if any of this information serves a practical purpose in regards to my being stuck inside a military compound, or the fact that one mistake will end up with my being enslaved or killed, I¡¯d be happy to listen, otherwise we gotta scoot.¡±

    Mercy went through some pretty obvious internal analysis just then before saying, ¡°Alright, just, do what I tell you with an open mind, please? Close your eyes. Both of them, what¡¯s the point of staring at me with one eye open like that? Okay. Breath deeply, and exhale completely. Relax yourself as much as you can.¡±

    Ugh. Yoga breathing exercises.

    ¡°Allow yourself to reach a place of stillness and just, try and feel inside of yourself. Relax, and breathe, and search. Allow your senses to float, not concentrating on any one part of yourself or your surroundings.¡±

    Shouldn¡¯t I be sitting down for this?

    ¡°Somewhere inside should be what can only be described as an energy. A pool of power and life. Your Magic Reservoir. Don¡¯t go searching for it, but let the feeling of it come to you. Let it bubble up to the surface, until you can feel it¡¯s presence.¡±

    Wait, something is there. I don¡¯t remember feeling anything like that before.

    ¡°Imagine yourself dipping your hand into that presence. Let it fill you, cover you, flow over you. Then try and move it according to your will through your body, and feel it as it circulates.¡±

    It was moving. It was moving according to my wishes. I could feel it in my muscles, my joints, my bones, and even my skin. I could feel it everywhere. As a test I concentrated it in individual parts of my body, then released it back into the whole. It operated unexpectedly smoothly.

    ¡°Eventually you¡¯ll become comfortable feeling and moving that power around inside you. It will flow smoothly at your beck and call.¡±

    It already was, Mercy, get to the next step.

    ¡°Once that happens, start feeling outside yourself. Feel everything around you, above you, beneath you. Reach out to the world, and find what comforts you. Find what feels familiar and powerful. Accept that element into yourself, even as you reach outwards.¡±

    Reaching out. Continuing my breathing I reached out. I felt the air circulating in my lungs, which then left my nostrils and mixed with the air about me. I felt the stone under my feet, the slight chill of the underground in the stone and the air alike. I felt the pressure of my weight pressing against the earth, and the earth pressing back. I felt the atmospheric gasses pressing against my skin as my body displaced the gasses. These presences were all about me, pressing upon me as I pressed against them, intermingling, and then accepting. They were separate, yet part of a whole; as I sensed them I understood that. Then I understood why I understood it, for the presence that was inside me was inside the air and the ground as well. I could feel the Mana that was within my surroundings and myself as well. And with that realization, I accepted my surroundings inside me, and we become one for a brief moment. In that short span of time it felt as if something snaped apart inside me, not painfully, but as though a seal I had never known existed and that had been holding me back was broken through.

    Somehow, it felt like I understood something I had never known before now. Lifting my hand and pointing my index finger like I was playing cops and robbers, I opened my eyes and pointed towards one of the walls.

    ¡°Bang,¡± I said, issuing my Magic into the air at the point of my finger to propel it forwards. A purple tinted bit of air with the shape of a pistol round broke the sound barrier and struck the rock wall hard enough to leave a small dent and some cracks in it, as if it was struck by a real copper jacketed bullet. ¡°Kinda like that?¡± I asked Mercy beside me, her mouth hanging open. Hmm. Maybe it was a little underpowered. Lumpy blew up furniture and people when he cast a spell. Let¡¯s play around a little, get used to this.

    I released some of my magic into the air around me, not letting go of the sensation of where it was, as though I was dying the surrounding air in my power. Then, I grabbed hold of my disseminated magic once more and molded it into different shapes based on my whimsy. I reconcentrated my magic, halting the molecular movement of the air in specific shapes and with specific densities. I tried a bowling ball, a water balloon, a golf ball, a pickaxe, a wood axe, a machete, a foam football, a post digging drill, and sent all of them striking against the stone wall I had struck with the air bullet before, and each impact struck with the weight, velocity, and angle I had imagined in my rapid fire of random thoughts of random objects to experiment using the gaseous molecules about me. Somehow, I was properly turning my imagined strikes into reality.

    Okay, then let¡¯s try second gear.

    I enwrapped an area about my arm with my magic and gave it a form from my more primal aggression. With a step forward, I put my body into the delivery to follow up with my imagination. My mind and body, as one, I threw a punch. The stone of the wall was crushed under an invisible impact, shattering and flattening. Pulverized stone fell from the indentation I left behind from my attack, an indentation the size and shape of a fist from an imagined mecha-powersuit three times larger than a human¡¯s.

    ¡°Groovy,¡± I said aloud. I was finally starting to believe this may be another world.

    Maybe I should try a kamehameha next?

 Chapter 7: A Cunning Plan

    The kamehameha was a failure. I was able to concentrate my magic into a mass, but it ended up like the bowling ball when I threw it instead of turning into an energy beam. I couldn¡¯t help but sigh from disappointment.

    ¡°W-w-w-w-what was that?¡±

    What¡¯s the stammering for, Mercy? ¡°Wind magic, I assume? Or Air Magic? What¡¯s your categories for magic here?¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t Wind Magic, One Forty Seven! Wind doesn¡¯t turn solid! Wind Magic just blows air around!¡±

    Lame! ¡°What¡¯s the point of Wind Magic then, if that¡¯s all it does?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the point! What you just did was in the Draconic Class of power! I-I don¡¯t even know how to classify it! Please, let me take some blood samples!¡±

    This time I did slap Mercy upside the head. As she rubbed the spot behind her ear I asked the important questions. ¡°Okay, from your reaction, what I just did is really strong in this world, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Chantless activation, combined with swift, multi angled strikes and precise materialization of weaponry from thin air! I¡¯ve never even heard of a human performing that kind of feat, let alone seen one.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s enough power to break out of this base and make a run for it?¡±

    ¡°Definitely. In fact, I¡¯d say you could single handedly conquer the entire base if you chose.¡±

    Oh-ho? ¡°What makes you say that?¡±

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s only one platoon of soldiers stationed in the base. I could easily see you beating all twenty of them.¡±

    ¡°Seriously? This is a pretty big emplacement for only twenty soldiers.¡±

    Mercy shrugged noncommittally. ¡°It¡¯s easier to keep a facility a secret with fewer people, and most of the rooms were made with the intention of housing and training the Specimens we¡¯d be summoning. There¡¯s no helping that there¡¯s a lack of staff.¡±

    I hummed to myself lightly, deep in thought. Because just like Baldrick, I have a Cunning Plan¡­

    ¡°Mercy, is there a cafeteria, and if so, how long until the next meal is served?¡±

    * * * * *

    Walking boldly down the deserted hall with one hand guiding the wheeled medical stretcher that I¡¯d had Mercy retrieve from the Medical quarters, I hung a left at Mercy¡¯s guidance towards the installation¡¯s cafeteria. Following behind me was the unconscious girl strapped onto the stretcher with a large sealed canvass bag resting on her legs, and Mercy pushing the stretcher from the rear. I¡¯d sent Mercy out beforehand with instructions to bring back the stretcher and the contents of the bag without alerting anyone, directly or indirectly, to what I was planning.

    My plan was to walk right into an ambush. The only questions were, who¡¯d be on the receiving end, them or me. And how well would I fare with only twenty minutes to explore my new magic powers. But I was able to figure out more than a few tricks in that time.

    ¡°Those doors,¡± said Mercy from behind. ¡°That¡¯s the cafeteria.¡±

    I separated from the stretcher and snuck up against the wall to take a quick peek inside. It was a large open room with the same bland coloration as the rest of the installation, lots of unoccupied wooden benches and long tables inside with uniformed people with trays either seated and eating, or meandering around some serving pans being manned by a pair of cooks. Wow. It¡¯s almost like a steam tray line from my own world.

    I just said ¡°my own world¡± just now, didn¡¯t I? I had to suppress an inner sigh just then. To jazz myself up for what was to come, even though this wasn¡¯t Upper Blackrock Spire, I mumbled aloud, ¡°Alright, time¡¯s up, let¡¯s do this,¡± before taking a big step into the cafeteria.

    Before anyone could react with more than a glance I filled my lungs and shouted, ¡°FOOD FIGHT!¡±

    The blast of air I created was on the level of gale force winds, coursing out without any kind of destination. The air pressure in the room was immediately so unbalanced that people were blown over, tables flipped, and food flew everywhere, including into the eyes of a few people. Not bad for just moving air around. But that¡¯s just the start.

    The soldiers in the cafeteria were universally angry at my antics, and began pulling weapons as they righted themselves. Some big guy with grey hair and¡­ he had animal ears. Seriously? Anyway, he got a sword out and had a simultaneously demanding and condescending tone of voice. ¡°I dunno who you think-¡±

    ¡°WAIT!¡± I interrupted, holding my hands up to add significance to the word. It worked, as everyone was both confused and annoyed enough to listen to what I had to say. It¡¯s always worth trying to make peace beforehand. ¡°Just so you know, I¡¯m taking over this entire base, starting with you guys. Anyone who straight up surrenders to me is going to be treated well. So, who¡¯s up for surrender? Eh? Show of hands?¡±

    I lifted both my hands in a surrender motion, repeating, ¡°Eh? Eh? Anyone? Beuller?¡±

    The big grey haired guy shouted for the attack. Well then-

    With a flick of the wrists I shot out some more proper Wind Magic. Instead of creating sheer winds though, I created concussive blasts throughout the room on the same level of a bunch of flashbangs exploding. Something I realized while toying with my magic before was that shockwaves from explosions were nothing more than displaced air. And yet, depending on the power, a single shockwave could destroy a building. In this case though, it just destroyed various tables, which sent wood splinters dancing through the air, and damaged the inner ears of the Fulchas soldiers throughout the room. People were stumbling, shouting, and screaming everywhere. A few got their feet under them, and the grey haired guy pulled together an assault party of four people, led by himself to rush me. That wouldn¡¯t do.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Something else I learned from experimentation is that my ability to solidify air is shoddy at best. The instant I lose the image of a form in my mind, the air dissolves into normal gas once again and the magic I used to make it becomes unusable afterwards. Fighting with a solidified gas sword in my hand would quickly leave me without a weapon at all. And creating complex shapes like a wood axe or a drill creates a lot of useless parts to the manifested form, resulting in an even more wasteful use of magic, and a greater likelihood of losing the image in my mind quickly.

    Simple geometric shapes however, were far easier to use and far less wasteful.

    I slammed the grey haired guy with the shape of a twelve sided die at an angle to toss him up into the air to come crashing down through a table. The other guys I struck with spheres and cylinders like they were medicine balls and baseball bats. The crunch of fractures and cries of pain rose from the charging would-be heroes, and another air cannon blast sent them back across the room. Oops, I was distracted by the assault team and it pulled my attention from another group of attackers.

    At the far end of the room there were women holding up truncheons like Colonel Lumpy had, and power was forming near them. Not nearly as fast as Colonel Lumpy¡¯s Fire Bolt, though. And I¡¯m pretty certain I heard some chanting in the form of, ¡°Dance and burn, strike my enemy without fail,¡± from one gal with reddish blonde hair, (sandy blonde?) as flames started taking the form of what I can only conclude to be an arrow or a big dart. Seems these people need to chant in order to use magic. Then let¡¯s try-

    Working my fingers like I was pulling triggers, I fired out formless blobs of solidified air, not unlike the water balloon experiment when I first tapped into my magic reservoir. Except the blobs were not nearly so big, nor so soft. The blobs struck the torso of the gal with the speed and consistency of a beanbag round fired from an anti-riot shotgun. The liquid form of the blow allowed all the inertia behind the beanbag rounds to be transferred into the target without breaking the skin, which tossed the magic casting gal back like she¡¯d been kicked by a mule. The hit should have driven all the air from her lungs and maybe broken a few ribs, making it unlikely she¡¯d be able to breathe comfortably for a while to come.

    Pleased with the success of the beanbag magic, I used it on the other casters trying to fight back while throwing around a few more concussive blasts to keep people¡¯s heads down. After a while people stopped moving about and were only hunkering down, waiting for the storm to pass them by. After a few more blasts to make sure all the fight had left everyone, I stopped my assault and shouted to be heard over the inevitable hearing damage the soldiers all suffered, ¡°Okay, now who¡¯s up for surrender? Show of hands? Beuller? Beuller?¡±

    The first sets of hands were raised by the kitchen staff, who had been cowering behind their counter since the start. Then hands started to lift in one set after another throughout the room as most everyone who was still conscious officially gave up the fight. The grey haired big guy, however, slowly stood up while favoring a leg and an arm, and said with blood stained teeth, ¡°Enjoy it while you can, buddy. The teams posted outside will have heard your assault and reported it. You won¡¯t get very far before you¡¯re hunted down.¡±

    Some of the soldiers had the glow of defiance smoldering in their eyes from that. Well, well, well, Mercy didn¡¯t tell me about that little snag. But, it was unimportant.

    I picked up a shattered bench leg that had fallen near me, turned on my heel, and shoved it into the airspace just in front of the open cafeteria doors. Coming to a halt, I took my hand off the shattered leg and left it floating in mid air. I turned back to the captive audience and explained to them, ¡°You might not know this, but sounds are just vibrations in the air that are interpreted by people¡¯s ears into words, explosions, and cries for help while this scrawny guy kicked all your collective butts. So, in order to not be interrupted during our little meet n¡¯ greet, I set up this wall of air to absorb all the sound waves before they left the room. So! No one heard a damn thing, and no help is coming.¡±

    The light of defiance instantly left the soldiers¡¯ eyes, to be replaced by a mix of horror and despair. Okay, yeah. That¡¯s much more manageable. Grey hair on the other hand, snarled, ¡°Then I¡¯ll hunt you down myself and tear out your-¡±

    ¡°None a that,¡± I interrupted with solidified air the consistency of a tube of rubber filled with water striking grey hair¡¯s temple. The guy dropped like a sack of potatoes. Ah, good old concussive injuries.

    ¡°Okay, everyone who¡¯s conscious, toss away your weapons, line up facing that wall on your knees, with your hands behind your heads. Mercy, come on in. Mercy?¡± Oh, for Pete¡¯s sake, the air wall. I cancelled the vibrating air, allowing the shattered bench leg to drop to the ground and for Mercy to hear my call. After she wheeled the stretcher into the cafeteria, I set the vibrating wall up again. ¡°Okay, Mercy, chain ¡®em up just like I told you before. I¡¯ll cover the room from here.¡±

    I felt like a bank robber all of a sudden.

    ¡°Wait, please,¡± called a scared voice from the wall.

    ¡°Who said that,¡± I called in return. One hand lifted from behind someone¡¯s head and quivered in the air. ¡°Is there a problem, lady?¡±

    The uniformed woman turned her head as much as she could but was still unable to look at me, though she still called out as if she could. ¡°Please, let me heal the wounded before you tie us up. I can¡¯t treat them with my hands bound.¡±

    Heal? Is that what it sounds like? ¡°Mercy, can you tell me who that is?¡±

    Mercy paused in her effort of rooting around in the large bag that had been carried in on the stretcher, peered at the person with her hand raised and said, ¡°That¡¯s Specialist Daphne Rogrend. She¡¯s a Combat Healer, and is in charge of the medical wing.¡±

    ¡°So, she can heal people. With magic?¡±

    ¡°¡±Yes,¡±¡± came the reply from Mercy and Daphne at the same time.

    Jinkies. Healing magic? How useful.

    ¡°Okay, Specialist Daphne, I¡¯ll let you save your people, on one condition. Come over here first.¡±

    Daphne stood up, a little shaky, probably as a flashbang after effect and walked carefully towards me, keeping her hands up the entire time. In the relatively uneventful time frame it took her to approach, I took a measure of Daphne. She was probably about five foot four, and had light brown hair in a tight braid running down her back with wisps of hair hanging free at her temples and forehead. Daphne had something of a smallish and immature face to match her stature, but her body was definitely that of a grown, though slim, woman. She had a bleeding gash from a flying wood splinter over forest green eyes, eyes filled with barely contained fear and determination in equal measures.

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s close enough,¡± I said as I rifled through the bag on the stretcher. ¡°You can start healing your buddies after doing one thing for me.¡±

    ¡°What do you need me to do?¡±

    I yanked one of the items out of the bag while the contents spilled out onto the floor, and tossed the one in my hand to Daphne. She caught it on reflex, clasping it to her chest to make sure it didn¡¯t fall from her hands.

    ¡°Attach that around your neck and wrists, first.¡±

    Daphne looked at the Enslavement Collar in her hands, then to the pile of them forming near my feet before closing her eyes in frustration, before exhaling a half cough of begrudging acceptance. Then she began attaching the clasps around her wrists.

    ¡°You know Mercy, I¡¯m pretty sure there¡¯s more than twenty of these soldiers,¡±

    ¡°Oh? Sorry, I never counted them.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I remarked, patting the half emptied sack on the stretcher. ¡°I¡¯m just glad I had you bring so many of these babies on my little recruitment drive. Now. Specialist Daphne. Tell me your name.¡±

 Chapter 8: Say My Name

    Daphne and the cooks submitted to becoming enslaved immediately. Some would say the cooks were cowardly non-combatants, but I think they were the most practical of the lot I caught in my ambush. Daphne though, she held a high sense of responsibility. She straight out told me before submitting that she would not follow any order I gave that resulted in harming her fellow soldiers, even if it cost her life. I believed her, and agreed to her demand.

    Well, it¡¯s not like I was ever planning to have Daphne hurt anyone in the first place, so it was an easy promise to make.

    I set Mercy to putting the Enslavement Collars on the wounded before letting Daphne treat them using two glove like foci with quartz sewn into them in a sort of blooming flower design. Or maybe it was a shining sun? The cooks I set to putting Enslavement Collars on the kneeling soldiers, binding the hands behind the backs. After every one of the conscious group had been chained, I picked out the more nervous looking guys (harder to do that when you can only see the back of their heads, I tell you what) and convinced them to accept the enslavement. Things rolled more quickly after that. I soon had four soldiers standing armed guard over their platoon mates while another pair brought captives up to me, pinning their arms between them. The cooks I reassigned to help Daphne. None of the people who were enslaved to me looked happy, but I¡¯ll be damned if they weren¡¯t doing their jobs.

    Things were going fine until-

    ¡°Rahhhr!¡±

    The grey haired guy with animal ears lashed out the instant Daphne had healed his head. Grey hair¡¯s booted foot caught one of the cooks in between the legs, doubling him over, while grey hair headbutted Daphne¡¯s face. Mercy and the other cook scrambled away from grey hair as he squirmed onto his feet since his hands were bound behind him, and he quickly locked eyes on me while shouting, ¡°I¡¯ll kill you, bastard!¡±

    Grey hair¡¯s unsteady feet were still swift enough to close the gap between us before any of my newly recruited soldiers could make a decision about what to do, guard the prisoners or try and intercept a frothing mad beastman. Maybe it was my machismo or my desire to prevent a riot, but I called out, ¡°I got this¡± so no one would jump into the fray.

    Since grey hair had his arms bound, I was tempted to fight him head on, either with a roundhouse kick to the face or a straight heel kick to the abdomen. But I quelled my testosterone enough to go with the dullest and safest solution, creating a bar from solidified air about shin high to trip the guy. It worked quite well, as grey hair rolled over three and a half times, and I had two of my soldiers set upon him as he came to a sliding halt. The two soldiers hauled him upright on my command, holding him fast while I got a good look at him.

    The guy was nearly as tall as myself, but with a broader chest and wider shoulders. The guy was covered in muscle and despite being wounded he was still giving the restraining soldiers a hard time in keeping him in check. His face was more rugged than handsome, especially with his own blood staining portions of it. But the thing I found most interesting was that he had those animal ears on top of his head, where they would be for a dog, and no human ears on the sides. There was an uninterrupted patch of his ash grey hair where human ears should be. It was fascinating and unreal to look at. And grey hair¡¯s shouting of, ¡°Fight me, coward! Fight me!¡± ruined the moment.

    Okay, that¡¯s it. I¡¯m gonna Vader this guy.

    I held up one of my hands like I was cradling a glass of wine and solidified some air. Grey hair shut up immediately, because the air I¡¯d just solidified was in his throat. During the moments of quiet I¡¯d managed to obtain I called out, ¡°Mercy, how¡¯s Daphne and the others? Are you okay over there?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m alright, I just¡­ I¡¯m alright,¡± came Daphne¡¯s voice, a little weepy but sturdy. While grey hair was struggling against the air blockage I snuck a look over at the cooks and gals. One of the cooks was helping the other ¡°walk it off¡± while Mercy dabbed at Daphne¡¯s bloody nose with a napkin. Daphne¡¯s eye was teary, raw, and certainly on the way to turning black and blue. But it didn¡¯t seem like there was any permanent damage. Even so, this guy sure did rub me the wrong way, attacking someone who was trying to help him.

    ¡°Shame on you,¡± I said to grey hair, ¡°Attacking your own doctor? What do you have to say for yourself? Oh, wait.¡± I released the air in the guy¡¯s throat as his face was beginning to turn red. ¡°There, now, what do you have to say for yourself?¡±

    After a few sputters and gasps, grey hair asked, ¡°What the hell did you just do you son of a-¡±

    I re-solidified the air. ¡°I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t go there, thank you very much. As for what I did, well¡­ I might be a strange person, but whenever I¡¯m bored, I like thinking about what I¡¯d do in certain fantastic situations. Like if I won an academy award, or if I was a guest on a talk show. I have an entire stand up comedy routine in my head that no one will ever hear, because I don¡¯t intend to ever be a stand up comedian. It¡¯s fun to think about these ¡®what ifs¡¯ for me.¡±

    People around the room started repeating the words I rattled off that they had no idea what they meant. I ignored them and kept going.

    ¡°One such situation was what I would do if I ever had to torture someone. I put a lot of thought into that one. Breaking toes. Shallow cuts rubbed with salt and lemon juice. Ruining joints and cutting out ligaments. Electrocution and even amputating limbs, one sausage slice at a time. But every method was just too near sighted. They would all lead to quick deaths from accumulated trauma. Ah, hold up, take a breath.¡±

    Grey hair¡¯s flailing subsided as I released the air in his throat once again. Amidst deep, greedy breaths, his face started turning a normal shade once again.

    ¡°You all good, now? Great,¡± I blocked off his throat again. ¡°I was talking about trauma, right? Keeping someone alive while you inflict torture on them would be hugely complicated. So, how would you cause pain and suffering on a level to force people to submit without the threat of an early end to their lives? The answer I came up with was asphyxiation. As long as you let someone catch their breath every now and again, you can torture them for all eternity. Even if their heart stops, just a little CPR and they¡¯re ready for the next round. A pool of water and a large board on a fulcrum can do wonders, I¡¯m sure. But it¡¯s a torture method I could indulge in with a single pack of plastic wrap. Here, in this world of magic, I only have to wiggle my fingers to make you suffer. What do you think of that?¡±

    I released his throat again, wondering if he¡¯d answer me. He didn¡¯t though, he was desperately cycling air in and out of his lungs, but it was fine as it was a rhetorical question in the first place. When he¡¯d mostly gotten his breathing under control I told grey hair, ¡°Now, tell me your name before I stop being nice.¡±

    Grey hair looked me in the eyes and with a snarl, said, ¡°Sergeant Callic Moraan, Seventy-Eighth platoon.¡±

    A small smirk crossed my face as nothing happened. Nothing happened? Wut? I took a peek at some of the others around and they seemed as clueless as I was, except for Callic, who was still snarling.

    ¡°Hey Mercy, Sergeant Callic here just told me his name and nothing happened. What¡¯s the deal?¡±

    Mercy was still addressing Daphne¡¯s face as she disinterestedly responded to my question. ¡°He said his name defiantly, didn¡¯t he? The name means nothing if it¡¯s not given as an Act of Submission. Everyone knows that.¡±

    Most of the people in the room shrugged their shoulders or had wandering eyes showing they obviously did not know that, Mercy. It¡¯s an item people are executed for possessing, its rules are not common knowledge, woman!

    ¡°Well, okay then,¡± I said to no one in particular, ¡°Let¡¯s get back to it Sergeant Callic. I¡¯ve got all day.¡±

    As I lifted my hand to pull a Vader again, a shout from the sidelines broke in on the proceedings.

    ¡°Leave him alone,¡± cried a woman. Oh, it¡¯s the one that was making the fire arrow before, the sandy blonde who had her hair in a sporty ponytail. Kinda pretty in a girl next door sort of way, but whatever looks she had were ruined by her angry face and caustic mouth. ¡°Leave him alone you dickless bastard, or I¡¯ll burn your nuts off!¡±

    She was on her feet and shouting when two of my recruits grabbed her by the arms. It was something of a spectacle, one that had grabbed everyone¡¯s attention, but perhaps Callic¡¯s most of all as he was the only one to respond to the insults. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing, Iyleen? I¡¯ve got this!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got shit, Callic,¡± she cried back. ¡°Are you gonna just stand there getting your butt kicked or am I gonna have to come and save your ass again!?¡±

    Callic¡¯s eyes had a desperation I hadn¡¯t seen in them before. Iyleen definitely had tears in her eyes. So that¡¯s how it is?This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Bang.¡±

    I instantly shot Iyleen with another beanbag round. Her body jerked as she cried out from the pain and surprise. Callic fought against his captors, shouting Iyleen¡¯s name. So I shot Iyleen with another beanbag. She began to slump from the pain of the impacts, so I told the two restraining her to ¡°Hold her up properly. I want an easy target.¡±

    Callic thrashed against his captors more desperately than before, calling Iyleen¡¯s name again before calling me a bastard and telling me to pick on someone my own size. I calmly turned to look Callic in the eyes as I shot Iyleen again. ¡°You should hurry and submit, Callic,¡± I said in mocking sincerity, ¡°I doubt Iyleen can handle much more of this.¡±

    It was a bald faced lie of course. I think. I lowered the velocity of the rounds so Iyleen¡¯s internal organs shouldn¡¯t break, but what did I know about biology. Well, Iyleen¡¯s fate was in Callic¡¯s hands, who was hesitating, so I shot Iyleen again.

    Then the two played out that old heartwarming melodrama of, ¡°No, don¡¯t submit,¡± ¡°Be brave,¡± and ¡°Please forgive me,¡± or something. I wasn¡¯t really listening. I¡¯m on kind of a schedule here, I¡¯m trying to take over the base before anyone notices, people. Hurry it up already.

    I shot Iyleen with three rounds one right after the other, and finally Callic cried out, ¡°Callick Moraan, alright! My name is Callic-¡± Then he went into a hacking fit as the chains dissolved into smoke and filled his lungs. After Callic¡¯s coughing came to an end I motioned for him to be released.

    ¡°Daphne? You okay to heal Iyleen over here?¡± I approached Iyleen and studied her carefully. She was collapsed in the arms of her former platoon mates, tears rolling uncontrolled down her cheeks.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m¡­ on my way.¡±

    Agh. Daphne¡¯s eye was already starting to swell. She¡¯s something of a trooper though, she started healing Iyleen without complaint. She definitely had grounds to complain though.

    ¡°Hey you,¡± I said to the diminutive cook, ¡°Go get something cold to put on Daphne¡¯s eye, will ya? Now, Iyleen,¡± I said, turning back to my captive, dropping my voice to a very serious tone. ¡°Tell me your name.¡±

    ¡°Go to hell,¡± she weakly sobbed out.

    I didn¡¯t bother with a quip as I didn¡¯t feel playful at the moment. ¡°Iyleen, I could torture you all day long. You know I could. And I¡¯d probably have to since I¡¯m getting the feeling that you¡¯d rather die than submit to me at the moment. But I¡¯m really not in the mood for that. So here¡¯s what it is. Callic Enslaved himself to me in order to save your life. I¡¯m wondering if you¡¯d do the same for him. So I¡¯m going to start torturing Callic to death in front of you, and you¡¯ll have to watch. If you don¡¯t want that, then submit to me. Because there is nothing else on earth that will stop me.¡±

    Iyleen didn¡¯t answer me, she just kept hanging her head the entire time, gnashing her teeth.

    The thing about me is, I don¡¯t look fearsome. I have a gentle and fairly youthful face. I have placid eyes. And my overall demeanor is very underwhelming. If I ever found myself in prison, people would think I was an easy mark. But if I ever say that I will hurt someone, I sure as hell mean every word I say.

    ¡°Stand up, and don¡¯t move from that spot, Callic,¡± I ordered. ¡°Even if you die. Bang.¡±

    Thankfully it only took one beanbag round for Iyleen to break, telling me her full name, Iyleen Burkt. I was glad I didn¡¯t have to keep shooting Callic until he died, because I really would have. Proving I¡¯m a man of my word to my new recruits is far more important than Callic¡¯s life. And speaking of more important things¡­

    ¡°How¡¯s the eye, Daphne?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± she responded with a towel wrapped meat chop pressed to her left eye.

    ¡°You sure? You don¡¯t look fine.¡± She really didn¡¯t. She was panting pretty heavily.

    ¡°My magic reservoir is just running low, that¡¯s all. I¡¯ll be able to start healing everyone again in twenty minutes or so. There¡¯s no one left in critical condition, so it should be alright. And I can just heal myself after everyone else is taken care of.¡± Daphne gave a weak smile as if saying it couldn¡¯t be helped. Seriously?

    ¡°Hang on a sec,¡± I said as I put my hand on Daphne¡¯s shoulder. She started saying something, but it cut off when I moved some of my magic around my body. I envisioned it moving from my reservoir to my hand, and then from my hand into Daphne, who seemed to shiver from the process. Seems like it was a success. Let¡¯s ask to make sure. ¡°So, Daphne, did it work?¡±

    ¡°What¡­ did you just do?¡± Her wide open non-swollen eye was gazing at me in wonder.

    ¡°Well, I hope I just refilled your magic reservoir with some magic from my own. How is it, did it work?¡±

    Daphne touched her chest with her free hand while closing her eye for a moment before saying is a stunned whisper, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Incredible,¡± stated Mercy a little louder than she needed to. Hmm.

    ¡°Did I just do something impossible again, Mercy?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    ¡°Huh. Well, we¡¯ll figure it out later. For now, Daphne, heal yourself and then everyone else. Let me know if you need any more magic, alright?¡±

    Daphne nodded her head silently before carrying out my orders. After that, everyone in the room was both amazed and frightened by me, and the enslavement process proceeded smoothly again until everyone in the room had been enslaved. Then I sent my new underlings out to capture anyone remaining in or near the base, those ¡°other teams¡± that Callic talked about before. The first ones to return from the assignment were dragging the guy from the morgue I¡¯d stripped the clothes from, now fully awake, but with a mouth still stuffed full.

    ¡°Let me just get that for you,¡± I said as I pulled the pantyhose from the guy¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°That¡¯s where my stockings went,¡± cried Mercy from behind me.

    ¡°BuWAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!¡±

    A single great gasp halted all the activity in the room, and the following spasms snatched everyone¡¯s attention as the girl that Mercy and I had strapped onto the stretcher took her first breath of life after having been abducted into this world. Her body flailed against the leather restraints until her breathing and her trembling began to calm down. By the time the girl was still, I was by her as Mercy watched on uttering, ¡°Fascinating.¡±

    The girl looked like she was either still in high school or a fresh face in college. Her long hair was the brightest natural blonde I had seen in my life and her wide open eyes were the color of the sky on a clear summer¡¯s day. Her face was immaculate, the kind of face where you wondered if it had been sculpted based on our current concepts of modern beauty. She had a straight nose that came to a tiny ball on the tip between eyes shaped like almonds. Her lips were full in a way that other women needed collagen to emulate. And every part of her face showed stark terror.

    ¡°Try and remain calm,¡± I said as reassuringly as possible in my native tongue. ¡°Do you speak English?¡±

    ¡°English?¡± She responded in a heavy accent. Eastern European or something? ¡°Little.¡±

    Dang. Looks like I¡¯ll have to let the peanut gallery listen in. I speak again, this time in the language I¡¯d been using since I landed in this shit hole. ¡°Do you understand me now? Can you speak this language?¡±

    The girl made a face like she¡¯d just experienced something completely incomprehensible. Her answer of ¡°Yes¡± carried the same feeling.

    ¡±First thing you need to know is that you and I, we¡¯ve been kidnapped. I¡¯ve been able to overpower our kidnappers, so we¡¯re relatively safe for the moment. It¡¯s a really complicated and unbelievable situation, but I need you to believe just one thing. I¡¯m your ally. I really need you to believe it, because I really don¡¯t want you scratching my eyes out as I take off these restraints, which I only put on you to keep you from falling off this stretcher. Okay? Please don¡¯t scratch out my eyes.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± the girl said, even more confused now. I seemed to have that effect on people.

    As I removed the restraints, I helped the girl stand up. When she¡¯d gotten her feet under her and was looking around her I spoke again, not wanting to let the girl start asking the obvious questions that I still didn¡¯t have any good answers for. ¡°Second thing you need to know, is don¡¯t tell your real name to anyone. Don¡¯t tell anyone. It would take a long time to explain the dangers of doing so, so just believe me for now. Don¡¯t tell anyone your real name. And on that subject, could you please think up a fake name you¡¯d like me to call you by?¡±

    Perhaps it was the strange situation, the destroyed tables and the stained and beaten up men standing around watching the events unfold, but the girl did as I asked without question or over reaction. She thought for a moment and said, ¡°Aase. Please call me Aase.¡±

    The name she gave sounded like saying ¡°I say,¡± but in a single syllable instead of two. Seemed nice, and definitely as foreign as her accent. I nodded and said, ¡°Okay, Aase. Nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°And your name,¡± she inquired back. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    Somehow I was completely caught off guard by the question. It felt strange, awkward, and completely out of context, because since the moment I arrived and had control of my body again not a single person cared enough to ask what my name was. It was ¡°specimen¡± this and ¡°bastard¡± that. It was such a strange feeling that I almost answered honestly, giving my real name. I caught myself though, and chewed over my thoughts as I lightly chewed on my lip.

    What should I call myself here?

    I had a somewhat unusual name back on earth, a mismatched first and last name from two different cultures thanks to the melting pot that was America, but I¡¯d never given thought to changing it. It was mine. Except now it¡¯d been taken away from me, like the entire rest of my life that I¡¯d had going before I was abducted. Who the hell was I now?

    As I was feeling the tip of that existentialist iceberg, my mind wandered towards the only acceptable answer I had. There was one other name I went by. I used it in all my video games when a man¡¯s name was required. Especially in fantasy games. I¡¯d come up with it as a child, when I started getting into RPGs in a big way and had that first inclination towards having a real killer name. One with meaning. I ended up being inspired by the name of Xerxes, the would be conqueror, and added some random sounds to the end of that first hard X in the name. I was proud of that name for years afterwards, until I¡¯d learned that there were people who actually used that wacky ass name in real life. Then I was embarrassed to have ever thought it up in such a roundabout and improbable way. It was the primary subject of my own person Black History that I had told no one about. Until now.

    Having chosen my new identity, I say my name. ¡°Call me Xander.¡±

 Chapter 9: Taking Inventory

    ¡°A Calico Catgirl. I never thought I¡¯d see the day,¡± I mumbled aloud to myself in English as I walked back to the intact cafeteria table after breaking the Beastkin¡¯s will. It seemed like it had been something of a fight to capture her, as the team that brought her in were well battered, despite Callic being one of them. Well, neutralizing is always more difficult than killing. I might have felt sympathy for them if it wasn¡¯t for the whole being kidnapped thing.

    Well, whatever.

    I sat back down at the table that Aase, Mercy, the two cooks, the base custodian, and I had been sharing (Daphne had gotten up to see to the wounded and the half asphyxiated catgirl). After having settled myself in front of my plate of food that was serving as an early dinner, I picked up the clipboard and ticked off Specialist Gina Reese¡¯s name from the list I¡¯d drawn up from Callic¡¯s memory, ¡°officially¡± finishing the capturing process for the base. I turned the page to the kitchen inventory to confirm the approximate amount of food supplies the base had from the cooks and reconfirmed something that had been nagging me.

    ¡°No barrels for water. You¡¯re sure?¡±

    The Head Chef (his words) Lloyd Brenct nodded his head which was decorated in nearly buzz cut blond hair as he said, ¡°No need for barrels since we draw all our water from an installed well. There¡¯s an underwater vein nearby and we collect the bleed off for use.¡±

    My face couldn¡¯t hide it¡¯s disgust. ¡°Isn¡¯t that unsanitary? I mean, all kinds of dirt, mold, and parasites could leech in from the soil.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, because I purify all the drawn water before it¡¯s used,¡± said the Sous Chef (her words) Nina Brenct with a proud smile on her face. Yes, the two cooks were related. Nina was the fourteen year old daughter of Lloyd, and he was allowed to have her assigned to the same post as he was. Apparently in this world with its limited transportation options, it was fine to take the family with you on assignment as long as you were a non-combatant. She had pearly white teeth and hair the same color as her father¡¯s, but not cut quite as short as his. She was taking the enslavement situation best of all, and was talking with me as if I was just another customer. The normalcy of her attitude was really quite surreal, but welcome.

    ¡°Purify? Purify how?¡± I asked leaning forward, intensely interested. This world had the oddest mismatch of high and low tech.

    ¡°With my water magic!¡± Magic filtration systems, huh? I suddenly felt like stabbing my head with my pencil. Yup, they had pencils here, but no erasers, damn it. ¡°Then I put the purified water into the cistern over there for kitchen and personal use as drinking water.¡±

    I looked up to the indicated metal tank with a ladder on the side, a seal-able hatch on top, and various taps. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of purifying every day. Good job,¡± was my wholehearted reply. Nina hummed proudly at that. So, that was another matter to document¡­ ¡°Okay you two, I¡¯ll let you go back to your normal duties."

    "Now, Janette,¡± I said addressing myself to the base¡¯s custodian, Janette Pertain, a woman a few years shy of thirty with dull black hair cut to chin length, who used her earth magic to maintain the equipment and facilities. ¡°After we finish eating, I¡¯d like the grand tour. First stop would be to get me some pants with a roomier fit. Mercy,¡± I said, catching her attention, ¡°I¡¯m going to ask just once more. You¡¯re sure, absolutely sure, that there¡¯s no way to send Aase and me back where we came from?¡±

    ¡°One hundred percent certain,¡± said Mercy, her voice filled with confidence in her statement. ¡°Not even the Goddess can return people from whence they came.¡±

    I winced once, and bit back my disappointment again. ¡°Then start gathering up all of the documentation of your work, and I mean ALL of it. Packed up and ready to move. Aase, you are now officially the only other free person in this place. I can¡¯t order you to do anything, but it would probably be best if you came on the tour with me. You okay with that?¡±

    Aase was not okay with it, at first at least. My breaking the wills of people in front of her seemed to have left a bad impression, as to be expected. But it was either enslave, kill, or jail the soldiers in the base, and then enslave or kill them later. But by the time the meal ended, it seemed that Aase had decided to join me and Janette. Maybe to make sure I didn¡¯t do anything horrible to Janette.

    ...Please stop looking at me like that, Aase. It¡¯s painful.

    ¡°This is where the spare clothing is being kept,¡± said Janette, a little gloomily, as she opened a storage room door. Inside were a lot of shallow crates with size markings on them lining shelves set up inside the room as well as lining the walls. ¡°What¡¯s your clothing sizes¡­ sir?¡±

    ¡°No idea. My pants size is a 34 inch waist and 36 inch legs, but I doubt you guys have that measuring system here.¡±

    Wait a sec. Did I just quote off inches or a different measurement just now¡­?

    ¡°Then try one from this crate¡­ sir,¡± said Janette, lifting the wooden lid of a crate marked with numbers that were definitely not in inches. Oh, man. My brain wasn¡¯t just translating words to their language, but measurements as well?

    As I was pondering that bombshell, Janette pushed a pair of bright red canvas trousers into my hands. Something in me felt naturally revolted by the pants. ¡°What the hell is this, Janette?¡±

    ¡°These are the clothes that were prepared for the summoned soldiers on the project. Is there a problem with them¡­ sir?¡±

    ¡°These look like prison convict uniforms, Janette! There¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m dressing in Prison Reds! What else do you have?¡±

    Janette seemed to panic slightly, eyes rolling around her uselessly as she spoke. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry sir, we only had the one type prepared for summoned people. I have spares in all sizes but only the one color-¡±

    I wasn¡¯t listening anymore, I was just opening and dumping the contents of the crates around me. All over the floor were dozens of pairs of pants, all bright red. I moved to the next aisle, and dumped crates there, the contents all bright red. The next aisle, bright red. And the next. Every single one was bright fucking red.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I shouted as I punched through the side of a crate lining the wall. I heard a couple of squeals behind me as my fist punched through the durable wood. ...And I just made these two even more afraid of me. I lightly dropped my forehead against the metal scaffolding of the shelving unit in resigned frustration. After a moment I heard Aase¡¯s voice cautiously ask, ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    ¡°Not really, no,¡± I replied, extracting my fist from the crate and turning around. ¡°I¡¯d already heard we were meant to be enslaved soldiers, but I wasn¡¯t expecting this level of dehumanization. Being treated like convicted rapists and murderers¡­ I just¡­ I don¡¯t have the words.¡± And I didn¡¯t want to find them. It felt like I¡¯d start weeping in frustration if I found them. I consoled myself with picking tiny wood splinters out of my knuckles as I asked Janette, ¡°Is there any spare clothing in the base that isn¡¯t bright red?¡±

    Turned out there was, in another room. There were spare military uniforms without the armored parts installed. Turned out that the metal bits and chain mail could be transferred from one set of clothing to the next with clasps, buttons, and etc. for the sake of doing the laundry without rusting the armored parts. It was a roundabout route, but I ended up getting uniform pants that were wonderfully baggy, the way pants were meant to be, with Janette promising to have spare sets with the armor installed delivered after. Janette had stopped delaying her ¡°Sir¡± responses by this point. I guess scaring people can have that effect, sometimes.

    The armory was the next stop. It was also pretty disappointing.

    ¡°Just swords?¡± I asked.

    ¡°And shields, sir. For the melee fighters, at least. We have battle foci and wind tubes for the casters.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Wind tubes?¡±

    When Janette showed them to me, they looked exactly like bazookas from Earth. But they had shiny mineral parts to them as well. Parts that shattered under my touch when I was inspecting them. Oops. Seems anything I touched that was quartz would break right away. I decided to leave the armory before I broke anything else of value. But I confirmed that there were no weapons I could comfortably use in the armory. And that there was no such thing as gunpowder in this world.

    And yet they had bazookas. And explosives. Sigh.

    The training facilities were weights, treadmills without motors in them, padded floors and practice dummies.

    The medical wing had Daphne checking over her supplies like I¡¯d ordered her to. Healing with only a focus was apparently more difficult than healing after performing basic medical and surgical aid. Treatment of diseases fell under Light Magic treatment instead of Healing. But infections were Healing¡­ It felt like an arbitrary divide, but there you go. So the medical wing had pain killers, and various other ailment treatment drugs as well for Daphne to inventory for me. I left her to it and continued on to the barracks.

    The housing conditions for the troops were as minimalistic as a college dorm, with two bunks to a room. Callic got a room to himself since he was something like an officer. But the rooms prepared for the summoned people were six to a room with reinforced key locks on the doors. Thankfully (small thanks), both the adjutants to Colonel Lumpy had their own rooms so I assigned one of them for Aase to use. She¡¯d been quiet even at the start, shortly after she¡¯d woken up, but now her near silence held a different tone. It seemed like she¡¯d felt the gravity of what had been in store for us and was trying to hold up against it. I was just glad she hadn¡¯t woken up in a morgue like I had.

    ¡°Will you be taking the other room, sir?¡± Asked Janette.

    ¡°No, I¡¯ll be taking Colonel Lumpy¡¯s room.¡±

    ¡°Colonel who?¡±

    I opened the door to Lumpy¡¯s room after Janette led me there. The room was big and well furnished with a thick carpet on the ground and a big fluffy bed inside. There was stained wood pieces everywhere and even a booze cabinet near a breakfast nook or a small meeting table or something. It was like a studio apartment with a bathroom connection on one side manned with a chamber pot and a wash basin instead of proper indoor plumbing. But the place had electric lighting. Well, electric might not be the right word for it, as Janette offered, ¡°Please let me refill your battery,¡± opened a panel in the wall beneath a light switch, and touched a chunk of semitransparent white stone. As she laid her hand on the stone, it glowed with an infused inner power that remained afterwards. It was my first sighting of a quartz battery, and it lived up to it¡¯s name.

    ¡°Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?¡±

    Yeah, Janette was ready to please and then get the hell away from me by this point. ¡°Yes. Where¡¯s Colonel Lumpy¡¯s safe and cash reserves?¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know where Colonel Lum- I mean, Colonel Braug kept anything like a safe or money. He might not have had any at all, really.¡±

    ¡°No, no, no,¡± I denied knowingly. ¡°I only knew Lumpy for a few seconds before I stabbed him, but he seemed like the kind of self involved asshole who would always make sure he landed on his feet. That means he¡¯d have a supply of cash hidden in case he had to make a break for it on his own. Help me look. Start with the work desk,¡± I instructed. While Janette checked the desk without luck, I immediately checked the most obvious spot a safe would be, and found it. Right behind the ugly portrait of a seascape on the wall.

    I guess it hadn¡¯t become a trope in this world yet.

    A few minutes with a solidified air drill, crowbars, and hammers and the safe was opened. Inside I found some rather illuminating paperwork on the structure of the facility and a pair of pouches whose contents I poured out onto the table of the dinette set. One pouch held precious stones (that I made sure not to touch in case they exploded like quartz) and the other held gold and silver coins inside. I had no idea what their value was, but Janette¡¯s eyes lit up like she¡¯d just found buried treasure.

    ¡°Hey, Janette,¡± I called, taking her focus off the valuables on the table. ¡°Are there any cities or villages nearby?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes. One. It¡¯s a rural village, but it¡¯s the closest settlement for miles around.¡±

    ¡°Then pack these things back up and take the people and money you¡¯ll need to buy carts from that village tomorrow morning, enough to transport everything on this list,¡± which I pulled from the clipboard and handed to Janette, ¡°with room to spare. And before you go, have Callic assign people to boxing up all the food, uniforms, armor, and weapons you can. Use the crates those red prisoner clothes were in as well, ¡®cause we¡¯re not taking the prison jumpsuits with us.¡±

    ¡°With us?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re blowing this popsicle stand, Janette,¡± I ignored her repeating the word popsicle and continued on. ¡°I know this is a secret military base, but it¡¯s no secret to the people who built it, or the ones who compromised it. None of us are safe here. So we¡¯re bugging out with everything that¡¯s not nailed down, and I¡¯m not leaving anyone behind. Spread the word Janette, because I expect everyone to have their property packed up and ready to go as soon as possible. And before you ask, the answer is yes, everyone¡¯s lives are in danger. Your Colonel had an Enslavement Collar on him before I ever arrived in this world. Everyone who worked under him runs the risk of being charged with treason, even if I let them return to the military.

    Janette swallowed hard, her eyes looking like a goggling fish.

    ¡°You can check Colonel Lumpy¡¯s body yourselves if you don¡¯t believe me. He¡¯s in the summoning room. You can go now, and take all this,¡± I said, indicating the coins and gemstones, ¡°with you. Good night.¡±

    Janette hurriedly packed up the money pouches and closed the door after her. A few seconds after she did, I released a huge breath of relief and collapsed into the chair I was now slovenly slouching in. God! It¡¯s exhausting to pretend I knew what I was doing. Thank god for the high school drama courses!

    With a few minutes to myself, I looked over the room again from my seat, feeling a vague discomfort that stuck with me. I got some water. Used the facilities. I looked inside various cabinets and the dresser. Oh, extra boots. And a shnazy jacket, too. Before long I found myself flailing my limbs about like I was a bored kindergartner. Even though I wasn¡¯t tired, I plopped my butt down on the bed to test it out. It quickly turned into a bouncing session.

    ¡°The hell is wrong with me,¡± I frustratedly announced to myself, standing up again, disgusted by my own restlessness. I got no answer, and found myself pacing back and forth, just like I did in my rat hole of a dorm room whenever I hit a halt in my studies. Three steps forward, turn, three steps back, rinse and repeat. Three steps. Three steps. Three steps? Only three? In this huge bedroom?

    I stopped pacing and looked around me again. The room was as large as a studio apartment. Holding everything one needed to live in semi-resplendent isolation. The type of room I¡¯d never been in before in my life, and the complete opposite to how I¡¯d been living for the whole school year.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t my life,¡± I said as I sat back down on the bed, and looked at where my roommate should have had his bed. ¡°Except it is now, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    I busted my ass learning for years, even before college. I¡¯d worked hard to overcome my communication issues. I had parents who bothered me on the phone at the worst times, but whose calls I was always happy to take. I had an older brother who was happily married, with a baby nephew I¡¯d only seen in webcam conversations so far. I ate three meals a day at a crappy cafeteria who couldn¡¯t cook pasta to save their lives. I had a part time job working at a DIY store in the evenings and weekends. I had enough money saved up to get a nice apartment in whatever city my post-grad internship landed me in, with enough on top for an updated wardrobe.

    I didn¡¯t have any of that anymore. I''d lost all of my future when I was abducted by that spell circle. And I lost all my past too. My family. My friends. Even my roommate¡¯s deep nasal breathing when he slept. I was really looking forward to being set free from that, but now that it was gone I felt that huge void where ¡°my life¡± had once been even more. My past, my present, my future was all lost. Even my identity, cause I sure as hell didn¡¯t trust anyone in this world with my name now that I knew about Enslavement Collars.

    My restlessness kept striking me like waves striking a rocky shoreline. I couldn¡¯t calm down, because every time I tried, I just realized once again that I didn¡¯t have anything to keep calm about. Back home, I could just play a videogame, do some boring homework, cruise the internet, or take a long hot shower to calm my nerves. But I couldn¡¯t do any of that here. I couldn¡¯t even shower! How was I ever supposed to ever fully relax again without a hot shower!

    I snatched the pillow from the bed and screamed into it, smothering my face and my cries so only I knew I was shouting my lungs out. I screamed loud, long, and hard into that pillow until I was panting from the exertion of my lungs. Then I screamed some more for good measure. When I was done, I had succeeded in wringing out some more my frayed emotions, and forced myself into a kind of dreary acceptance.

    ¡°I¡¯ll wait to see what tomorrow brings,¡± I dejectedly told my empty room. Then I stripped off my clothes, tossed them to the floor, and crawled onto the mattress wearing my purple sweat pants. What? I never said I threw them away. I wore them under the stolen pants, that¡¯s all. Anyway, I crawled into bed and nearly pressed the nearby switch for the light before I caught myself and retrieved the pencil to use that to flip the switch. I didn¡¯t want to risk blowing a fuse by touching the thing myself.

    As the darkness enclosed me, I closed my eyes and tried forcing myself to sleep. I emptied my mind of all thoughts except for building plans, and material tolerance loads. Running over cold figures from memory. But my body wasn¡¯t about to be tricked.

    My body knew it wasn¡¯t sleeping in it¡¯s usual bed.

    I spent most of the night restlessly tossing and turning, trying to find a position that felt safe and familiar.

 Chapter 10: Wheels

    I hate a poor night¡¯s rest. It weighs upon your body and soul the entire day afterward. I could feel that weight after I forcefully roused myself from the bed, found the pencil, turned on the light, and used the bathroom with it¡¯s cold, non-running water. I discovered there was no such thing as facial tissues in this world while I was in there, and ended up blowing my nose on a washrag before tossing it in the waste bin. It¡¯s not like I was ever coming back here anyway.

    It was shortly after that I found a toilet paper-like selection of sheets next to the privy. Great. I ruined a perfectly serviceable washrag. I massaged my forehead for a minute after that. Mistakes like that are why I need frickin quality sleep.

    Get back on track, ¡°Xander.¡±

    I washed with a spare washrag in a bowl of water, dried off, dressed, and made my way to the cafeteria. The place was vacant but for the cooks, er, chefs, and I silently, purposefully ate my breakfast. Eggs, tiny baked potatoes, and a strip of steak. Dang, I hadn¡¯t realized how tasty eating steak and eggs at the same time was. I¡¯d have to do that again sometime.

    And then I was bored off my ass, with nothing to do, just like the previous night. I decided to practice my freehand drafting while I was waiting for anything to happen instead of nodding off at a dining table. Around the time I had finished recreating the cafeteria, kitchen and all, on a spare sheet of paper on my clipboard Janette found me.

    ¡°Sir,¡± she said, presenting herself with a salute that she¡­ continued to hold.

    ¡°Knock that off, stop saluting me. What¡¯s up?¡±

    A little awkwardly, Janette lowered her hand and told me, ¡°The purchased wagons are here and loading has begun. Would you like to oversee?¡±

    ¡°Hell yeah. There¡¯s nothing else to do around here. Say, you got any idea where Aase¡¯s at?¡±

    As it turned out, Aase was outside as well. She¡¯d gotten bored of the inside of the facility before I had and had gotten an escort to spend some time enjoying nature even before the wagons arrived. As I walked through the propped open double doors that I had noticed the previous day, and past a few more security doors, a flight of stairs, and a checkpoint desk with an enormous alarm button installed, I went through one last reinforced door to find the great outdoors.

    Well, the first dazzling glare of real sunlight after a full day of being shut in a hole in the ground wasn¡¯t so great, but afterward¡­ yeah, still not so great. I don¡¯t get why people like being outside. Thankfully I was wearing the long black trenchcoat Lumpy had in his closet, since it was kinda nippy and moist. Made sense considering that there were trees as far as I could see, and everything that wasn¡¯t forested was grass and damp turf. Oh, the sky was blue. Thank goodness for that, cause it¡¯d be too much of a brain bender if it was green or yellow or something. There was steak earlier, I could tell by the taste. If I¡¯m lucky this is just an alternate Earth instead of a completely alien world. Oh, wagons!

    Yeah, the wagons were a disappointment as well. All of them seemed like they were heavily worn from yard and farm work, and coming closer, one of them smelled like it had been used to move ¡°fertilizer.¡± Holding my nose, I designated the wagon as the one for moving weaponry. Gads, the horses tied to the wagons were huge! Were horses suppose to be that large? I didn¡¯t think I could mount one of those even with a step ladder.

    ¡°Okay, before we start loading- Hey! You over there, unload that! I said before we start loading, okay! We¡¯re going to gather all the stuff we WANT to take out of here, decide what is most necessary for survival, and then load that stuff first. Organize them in piles, too, so we don¡¯t mix and match our various crap. Move it, people, I want to be on the road ASAP!¡±

    There were a lot of confused looks at the term ¡°ASAP,¡± but they still hopped to, even Aase¡¯s guard when I confronted him with meandering around her. Private Dellon Selcote, who was quite a bit shorter than me and with broader shoulders, but who¡¯s hair was more of a reddish brown. He also had a more squarish head, like he was a corn fed farmboy from the mid-west. I got the feeling he was mackin¡¯ on Aase, not that I blame him except for the fact that the gal could be jailbait. I didn¡¯t know yet.

    ¡°Is there¡­ anything I should do?¡± inquired Aase, with her violet eyes upturned to cope with my excessive height as I occupied half of the large stone she was sitting on.

    ¡°No, just keep relaxing. You and I are in kind of a shit position anyway, so it¡¯s fine to indulge yourself.¡± I looked Aase over once again and asked, ¡°Didn¡¯t Janette say she would get you spare clothes as well?¡±

    Aase was in the same cream colored sweater and blue jeans that she had been wearing the previous day. After she reflexively looked down, she looked back up with a slightly self deprecating smile and said, ¡°Janette delivered them, yes, but I didn¡¯t want to wear them. I¡¯d rather just wear this for a few days instead.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I remarked back, ¡°the nice thing about jeans is that you can wear them until they fall apart.¡±

    Aase actually giggled at that lame joke. It was probably politeness, but it was the first sign of happiness I¡¯d seen her express since she¡¯d come out of the coma. It was nice.

    ¡°How about you,¡± Aase asked. ¡°Why are you wearing their clothing?¡±

    ¡°I was kidnapped in my sleep, so the only thing I brought with me were my PJs. So it¡¯s either this or I run around in my skivvies.¡±

    Aase was quiet for a long second before she said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said offhandedly, pretending the whole thing was unimportant. Then I hesitated for a moment like Aase did before asking, ¡°What were you doing when you got taken?¡±

    ¡°...I was spending the day with my friend, Ida. We were shopping for clothes when my memory just cut out and then there was nothing but¡­ the colors. When I woke up tied to that bed, I thought I¡¯d been caught in an explosion or something. ...I wonder if Ida is alright¡­¡±

    Oh, shit. I hadn¡¯t even thought of that possibility. That the summoning spell might cause some kind of magical explosion around the spot we were kidnapped from. ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯s fine,¡± I lied while politely patting Aase¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The most important thing right now is that we take care of ourselves and watch each other¡¯s backs. By the way, I¡¯m glad you don¡¯t hate me after everything I did in front of you yesterday.¡±

    ¡°The jury is still out on that.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. But back to the topic of looking out for ourselves, I wanted to let you know that you can probably use magic.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± That was the most excited response that¡¯d come from Aase since I met her.

    ¡°Yeah. Apparently we were abducted for our ability to fight, and fighting in this world is all about using magic. So it stands to reason that you should have some pretty kick ass magic powers. What kind of magic, I dunno. We can figure it out once we¡¯re on the road.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t try it now? You¡¯re sure?¡± Aase¡¯s disappointment was actually rather cute, her violet eyes looking like a begging puppy.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather we had some quiet so you can concentrate. I¡¯m not sure if I did it right, but I sort of had to meditate to get in touch with my magic. And right now-¡± the loud bang of water casks being smacked against each other resounded in the air. I lifted a hand to indicate. ¡°Well.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± Aase responded, a bemused smirk on her face.

    It was a pleasant atmosphere and conversation, despite the- wait a second. ¡°Aase, have your eyes always been violet?¡±

    * * * * *

    Mercy stood up from her cursory check of Aase and stated, ¡°Looks like a mutation caused by mana exposure,¡± as if it wasn¡¯t a horribly scary thing to say aloud.

    ¡°I agree,¡± said Daphne, who was the one I had called over first, and she had sent for Mercy for a second opinion.

    ¡°What does that mean? What¡¯s happening to me?¡±

    ¡°Well, Subject One Forty Eight,¡± said Mercy, in as kindly an explanatory voice as she could gather through some very obvious fatigue. But her continued use of subject numbers once again left a cold pit of anger in my gut that I swallowed down. It wasn¡¯t the time for that, yet, even though my sleepness night made it harder to cope. ¡°It would appear that either your newly found exposure to an environment filled with mana is having physical side effects on your biology, or the summoning process you were subject to has produced a reactive effect to your bodily tissues. In this case, the coloration of your irises has altered, just like One Forty Seven¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what? What¡¯s that about me?¡± I interjected.

    Mercy turned towards me and informed, ¡°Back in the summoning chamber, the color of your eyes experienced a rapid, and rather dramatic change from brown to a burning red. From what I can tell, when your emotional or magical state fluctuates, your eye color modulates along with it, producing a visual effect not unlike the illusion that your eyes are aflame.¡±

    Mercy stopped talking and just stood there, looking at me calmly, though she swayed a little bit on her feet as if forcing herself to remain balanced. Daphne and Aase looked at each other and at me. Eventually I found my voice and indignation once again, after rubbing my temples for a moment. ¡°No one thought to tell me about this, about my eyes, until now?¡±

    ¡°I thought they were that color naturally,¡± said Daphne. Aase agreed with a nod.

    ¡°In all the turmoil, it slipped my mind. After all, a lot has happened in the last twenty four hours.¡±

    So this world has a twenty four hour day as well? No, wait, forget that for now!

    ¡°Okay, so my eyes, our eyes, have changed,¡± I stated, bringing us back to the important topic. ¡°What does that mean for us? Will we continue to mutate? Are we going to grow extra arms or tentacles?¡±

    I thought I saw Aase shiver a little as I asked the question, but Daphne replied in a placating manner. ¡°In my Examination, I couldn¡¯t find any kind of deformity with Aase¡¯s eyes. In my medical opinion, this mutation effect has only improved her eyesight. I may be going out on a limb, but considering how complicated the make up of the human eye is, any random mutation that occurs to it could only do damage, so this tells me that the change is not random. It seems like a latent magical reinforcement of the body that has become permanent. So, I guess as far as changes go, it can only be considered a change for the better, biologically speaking. I assume it¡¯s the same for Xander, but I¡¯d have to Examine your eyes as well to be sure.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if the two of you will experience any more changes,¡± said Daphne, intentionally avoiding the word mutation, ¡°but if you do, they will probably also be reinforcement of your current biology. I would, however, like the both of you to have regular examinations to be sure. As long as we catch any unwanted changes early, there should be a way to treat it.¡±

    Relieved, I turned to Mercy and asked, ¡°Is there anything in your research that could be helpful in this field? Studying the after effects of your summoning?¡±

    Mercy closed her eyes that had bags under them and concentrated. Huh, looking at her under natural light, Mercy seemed to have a deeper skin tone than the others around here. Kind of a Mediterranean skin tone? Anyway, after a long moment of thought, she opened her eyes as though she¡¯d just fought off sleep with a hatchet and said, ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. You and Subject One Forty Eight are the first living subjects to come through the process, so you¡¯re the first examples of altered biology I¡¯ve found. And believe me, I¡¯ve checked.¡±

    And there¡¯s that ¡°Subject¡± crap again.

    With a long exhalation, I moved forward from there. I needed to get this matter taken care of or it¡¯d be bad for my blood pressure. ¡°Mercy, have you finished gathering your research? All of it?¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she stated proudly, and swept her arms a little too lively to indicate neatly piled and bundled paperwork spilling overtop several wooden crates, with books and journals topping everything off. ¡°It¡¯s all here, and ready for travel! I¡¯m looking forward to continuing my study, now that I have some living subjects to work with!¡±

    I silently nodded, and looked around a little. Ah, there¡¯s that one woman, what was her name? Oh, right. ¡°Iyleen, come over here. You too, Dellon.¡± When the two came over, Dellon all smiles and Iyleen all scowls, I told Dellon, ¡°Hold her back.¡±

    Slightly surprised, Dellon did as I commanded, like a soldier, and moved to secure Mercy as I wordlessly pulled out and opened a flask from my coat¡¯s inside pocket. Mercy was already struggling, with a sense of foreboding which became panicky cries of outrage as I dumped out the hard liquor over the research materials and ordered Iyleen to, ¡°Light it.¡±

    After the moment it took to process my order, Iyleen pulled her magical truncheon out and, without a chant, cast ¡°Fire¡­ Bolt!¡± The resulting flame had the diameter of a penny and popped like a cheap fire cracker, but it was enough fire to ignite the alcohol and start the blaze going.

    ¡°Stop! Stop, please,¡± cried Mercy with tears forming in her eyes. ¡°What are you doing?!¡±

    ¡°Destroying your research.¡± Ask a stupid question¡­

    ¡°Why?!¡±

    ¡°Because you abducted and killed over a hundred and forty people if your Subject designations are anything to go by!¡± I shouted that. I actually shouted my pent up frustrations that had been accumulating from the previous day. God it felt good, so let¡¯s keep going. ¡°In all the time you¡¯ve been working on a way to kidnap, enslave, and send civilians out to kill and die for a nation we¡¯ve never even heard of, did it ever occur to you that you were MURDERING PEOPLE?! You have murdered about three times as many people as the deadliest serial killer in the history of my homeland, with this tainted research that can¡¯t even be used to send Aase and me home! This science is the kind of shit that should never have existed in the first place, Mercy, and I for one am going to make sure it''s annihilated before anyone else gets hurt. Iyleen!¡±

    ¡°Sir,¡± came the startled reply.

    ¡°Watch the fire, and make sure every single page is burnt to ash. Then crush and scatter the ashes. Dellon.¡±

    ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°Keep Mercy away from the fire, and the base. She¡¯s not to be given a chance to snatch up anything even remotely connected to her research. Mercy.¡± She looked at me, stunned into silence with her cheeks wet and her mouth hanging open. ¡°Go be useless somewhere else until we get the wagons moving. I don¡¯t want to see your face. And I swear to God, if you call me or Aase a specimen, a subject, or a number again, I will make you feel pain.¡±

    I turned on my heel, and walked to the person I needed at that moment. ¡°Janette!¡±

    ¡°Sir!¡±

    ¡°Is everything out? Food, water, equipment, clothing, gear, toiletries, Enslavement Collars, everything?¡±

    ¡°I have some men retrieving the last, um¡­ item, now. Ah, there they are.¡± Janette pointed towards four men carrying a corner each of the mattress, complete with bedding, from Lumpy¡¯s room.

    ¡°Alright, good job. Take that over to the covered wagon, the one with the rounded top. Don¡¯t let that mattress touch the ground, either!¡±

    The men carrying the bed gave their affirmative reply and started heading in the indicated direction. Janette cleared her throat and hesitantly asked, ¡°Sir, you said we were only taking the essentials, right? So¡­ why are we dedicating an entire wagon to a single bed¡­?¡±

    I gave Janette a look like she was as crazy as her question. ¡°What are you talking about, Janette? There¡¯s nothing as precious as a good night¡¯s sleep. Now, double check the piles, and then triple check the people. I want you to make sure everyone is out of that hole before we blow the place.¡±

    Janette did so. Everything worth getting was outside, including personal belongings. All the people were triple checked as present. Then Janette went back towards the entrance to the base, which was dug into the side of a hill and descended downwards to the completely underground facility. After a time, Janette returned with a long wire being deployed by a cable roll on a stick. Once she and everyone else was clear of the entrance, holding the horses heads, and behind cover, Janette pulled out a box that could only be a detonator, hooked the wire into it, and turned a knob hard.

    It activated the base¡¯s self-destruct sequence I¡¯d uncovered from the documents in Lumpy¡¯s safe the previous night. Janette had had no idea that was a part of the construction until I¡¯d shown her the document. Thankfully (for me) it seemed the secret system was operating as advertised.

    A series of muffled explosions sounded out, and tremors could be felt through the ground as each room in the facility was demolished one by one with quartz charges built into the load bearing walls and pillars detonating to bring the weight of the hill down, burying everything under a pile of dirt it would never be excavated from. Finally, one last explosion occurred near the entrance which already had an enormous amount of dust and detritus flying out of it into the outside air, and the opening that led into the earth was collapsed as well.

    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s taken care of,¡± I called out once the collapsed hill had settled. ¡°There¡¯s no more going home for any of us now. Start loading up the wagons, starting with food and water. And weaponry for the shit wagon over there.¡±

    * * * * *

    Inside the Holy Capital¡¯s Cathedral of Fellowship, inside the great round chamber, dozens of men and women were seated at the great conference. At the only straight edge of the otherwise round array of curved tables sat The Holiest Raul the 4th, the spiritual leader of The Faith, selected by The Goddess to lead twelve years beforehand. The dusky skinned man¡¯s garb could be described as flowing about him if it had been any less well tailored, but as it was the lavender, white, and gold trimmed vestments were fitted to reveal his barrel chest and suggest the muscle that lurked underneath the cloth elsewhere as well. The opulent and well padded seat shared the same color scheme, yet Raul¡¯s head was unadorned, for humility required that all of The Faith be without headwear before their deity in recognition of their devotion to the one that sits above all others, though the lavender ribbon securing his long brown hair in a ponytail hanging at the base of his neck was not only condoned, but celebrated by the tenants of The Faith.

    ¡°The Embassies have no information, then,¡± asked The Holiest Raul, his baritone voice resounding in the great chamber.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, your Holiest,¡± stated a thin cardinal with a pointed nose that belonged to the Temple of Fellowship as he reviewed some documents. ¡°There has been no movement in the political structure of the Demon Nations that our diplomats could find. No polarization of parties. No reassignment of military assets. Not even a change in the taxation policies. No entourages to court favors in over a month. If a demon has awoken to power in their realm, then he is either singularly adept at secrecy, or he is a hermit.¡±

    An overweight cardinal from the Cathedral of Lore spoke his fear through quivering cheeks. ¡°Or he could be a wanderer, like the Demon King Agri the Vagabond.¡±

    ¡°Oh, let¡¯s hope not,¡± stated the cardinal from the Cathedral of Tithes as he constantly rubbed at his thinning hair in worry. ¡°It took eighty years to organize his subjugation force because of his unpredictable travels. Do you have any kind of idea the amount of damages that one caused? Why I could show you a laundry list of repairs to buildings and vital infrastructure around the civilized world that would make you beg The Goddess to go blind. I only pray such a series of events do not occur in the present age.¡±

    ¡°Better a wandering Demon King than an extremist, as their kind are want to produce,¡± stated an aged but sturdy woman with silvered hair reaching down to her lavender colored dress armor. As a cardinal of the Temple of Wrath, her words held great weight in the matter. ¡°Should a new Demon King topple, or even weaken the rule of one of the moderate Demon Kings, we could be facing another invasion. We should begin preparing a new coalition immediately, and lay groundwork for an expedition to support the moderates as soon as the new King is located.¡±

    At these words there arose a bantering guffaw from many of the diplomats from foreign nations, decrying the need for cooperation with so and so nation, nor the costly need to mobilize such and such military. It was the usual show of posturing nobles and contests for favors disguised as concern for oneself and others.

    The diplomatic part of the job left Raul annoyed at the best of times, dealing with people who could only see the world as lines on a map, but he abstained from interjecting in matters too quickly. The nobles must be given their time to squabble, otherwise they would grow petulant.

    But it was not The Holiest Raul who interrupted the squabbling.

    None could say what the first indication was, for by the time any had noticed, all the signs were readily apparent. The incense was displaced with an even sweeter scent, though there was no movement of air. The furor of debate slowly grew more cordial and even tempered against all rational expectation. The shadows inside the room seemed to lose their edges, and fade further into the background. The water in a crystal pitcher did not vibrate even when the table it rested upon was struck by a noble¡¯s closed fist. In that great chamber that had an open dome for the roof, letting in abundant amounts of natural sunlight, the light grew slowly brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding. But no eyes were strained by the increased luminescence.

    Then there was the great impact which displaced no air and shocked no earth, as The Herald of The Goddess landed at the center of the chamber. His knees were bent from the landing, his great white wings outstretched and shedding light more pure than the sun. The figure began to correct his posture, and the wings folded behind his body that was only the size of a man, but whose radiance made him seem even larger. The Herald lifted his head of long blue tinted hair, and let the battle robes of lavender, white, and gold fall into immaculate order around him.

    The Herald lifted the opulent war bladed staff in his hand and tapped the ground with the blunted end, emitting a ringing like that of a great bell, three times, to quiet the nobles, diplomats, and cardinals. All the heads in the chamber bowed except for two, the Holiest Raul and the diplomat from the High Elvish Kingdom, who closed their eyes and inclined their heads to bask in the radiance of the Herald. And thus, the Herald spoke aloud, his voice a singing tenor that resounded inside the chamber.

    ¡°Heed the words of The Goddess herself, that I, The Herald, deliver unto you that there may be no mistake in their meaning. The new born Demon King is the Living Key to the End Times, and must either be swiftly destroyed or protected from all who would seek Annihilation. Set aside your Pride, your Arrogance, your Greed, your Sloth, and your Ambition. Seek only the Demon King, and preservation. Thus speaketh The Goddess, and thus is your Fate placed in thine own hands. Fail, and The Goddess herself will Intervene.¡±

    The Herald tapped his war staff thrice more, spread his wings wide, and with a single flap that displaced no more air than the wave of a towel, fired up, into the sky, and out of the sight of all present in the chamber.

    The shock wore away slowly, and panic quickly took it¡¯s place. One man shouted in fear and many others began crying out in an earnest desire to cast blame for the dawn of this new age upon all their rivals and enemies. His Holiest Raul would have none of that, not at this time of Trial, and so he stood and shouted from the depths of his great chest for silence. The room became quiet and expectant. And thus Raul spoke to all.

    ¡°The Age of Turmoil has come. There is nothing that can be done about it, but to pull together. From this moment forward, I expect every one of your nations and your nobility to cooperate with The Faith, in any way, shape, or form that is required for all our mutual preservation. Politics have no place in the present day, and any who try to subvert the goals of preserving our world from the Chaos will be guilty of Heresy. Take these words back to your kings, queens, dukes, barons, and populace! The End of the world is nigh, but we shall persevere as long as we come together for the common good!¡±

    The chamber erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause, as rationality returned to the eyes of it¡¯s occupants. But the Holiest¡¯s next words struck ice into the hearts of those present.

    ¡°This meeting is now adjourned, so send the initial missives back to your home nations. And leave your schedules open, one and all, for you will all be contacted by the Temple of Shadows.¡±

    * * * * *

    ¡°Son of a bitch,¡± I cried after my third counting of inventory. ¡°Stop the wagon! Stop the wagon train!¡±

    I jumped from the slowing covered wagon where I had been enjoying the softness of the mattress in a world without suspension springs and kept calling out.

    ¡°Everyone stop! Stop and assemble over here! Everyone, no exceptions!¡±

    After everyone had gathered, I continued.

    ¡°So, like an idiot, I left the Enslavement Collars behind in the cafeteria after I¡¯d finished my business with them. Unguarded. I didn¡¯t think much about it at the time, but now that I¡¯ve taken, and retaken inventory of the collars, I have found that one of them is missing. I should have a hundred and twenty, minus the ones used on all of you, but no matter how I count, I get a hundred and nineteen. So, I order whoever took one of them to raise their hand! Raise it high!¡±

    After a few moments, one hand rose. I moved towards it, the crowd parting as I did so. I found the hand belonged to Dellon Selcote, who had sweat budding on his forehead. Seems he tried to fight against the command.

    ¡°Where is it,¡± I demanded.

    Dellon made some small noises or small talk, I couldn¡¯t be bothered to make it out, as he pulled his service pack with his belongings from his back and rooted around in it. Shortly, a collar with chains connecting to leather cuffs was pulled from the pack by Dellon¡¯s hands.

    ¡°Possessing one of those things is grounds for execution, Dellon. What were you thinking by stealing one of them from me?¡±

    Sheepishly, Dellon started to explain. ¡°Well, I thought, maybe I could sell it? Get some spending money? Or something?¡±

    ¡°You were really going to sell something that would get you instantly convicted of treason? That¡¯s bullshit, Dellon. What were you really going to do with it?¡±

    Mother fucker had better not have been planning to enslave me or Aase.

    ¡°I dunno! I mean, I¡¯ve never had a slave before, and I kinda always wanted one. Especially if I met a really cute chick, you know? I mean, you¡¯re a guy, too, you know what I mean, right?¡±

    Dellon had pulled in closer to me when he said that, trying to give some Bromanship to his little performance here. It just made me seriously wanted to kill this guy. I really wanted to, because what he¡¯d shown me of himself there, it was something I¡¯ve detested my entire life. But he was my property now, so not only would it be wasteful to kill him, but it would be petty. Instead I stared a hole in him until I could trust myself to decide what to do to him.

    ¡°Give me your boots. And your socks. Now.¡±

    Dellon swallowed hard. Maybe there was something in my voice, or my eyes had caught fire, but he did what I asked without hesitation. After he handed over his footwear, I took ¡®em and the collar and went back to my bed-wagon, saying, ¡°Alright, we¡¯re moving out again.¡±

    ¡°What about me?¡± cried Dellon.

    I half turned to cast a cold eye on Dellon and said, ¡°You walk, of course. All the way to the next town. Ask Daphne for healing when your feet start bleeding.¡±

    I was half expecting someone to pipe up in Dellon¡¯s defense, but no one did. It felt like everyone was trying to avoid Dellon as well while the wagon train got back in order. I was tossing collars into satchels as I lightly began considering how I was going to smuggle these things in and out of cities as the wagon train got under way again, and the wheels began to turn.

 Chapter 11: Within Wheels (1)

    Well, my first night sleeping in a military camp on the road side (if you can call the pathetic path we tread a road) was not as bad as it could have been. The sealed flaps of the covered wagon kept insects out pretty well, as well as the morning dew. And while the soldiers and non-combatants slept in tiny tents that only fit their bodies inside them, they still slept on the ground instead of the fluffy mattress I had taken from Lumpy¡¯s quarters. All in all, I¡¯m pretty lucky.

    ¡°Pancakes with caramel?¡±

    Yeah¡­ lucky.

    ¡°What else would you put on pancakes,¡± asked Sous Chef Nina as she tilted her head to the revulsion in my voice before putting a sausage on my plate aside the desecrated pancakes.

    ¡°What about maple syrup,¡± I suggested hopefully to her and Lloyd who was making the pancakes with one hand while stirring the melted sugar in a pot with the other.

    ¡°Ha! What kind of crazy alchemist would try and make food from wood,¡± quipped Chef Lloyd. Seems no one in this world ever thought to taste test tree sap. Actually, wait¡­ what kinda loonie would taste test tree sap in the first place? But the word ¡°maple¡± got through translation, so maybe hope for the future had not been lost? After making a mental note and sighing deep in my heart, I went back to my wagon and used the coachman¡¯s seat instead of squatting down on some random patch of earth.

    ¡°Is this seat taken?¡±

    I had barely taken my first bite of pancake when I heard Aase¡¯s voice from the side, hurriedly swallowed, and said, ¡°Sure. Let me get that plate for you, it¡¯s a steep climb.¡±

    And for Aase it kinda was, since she was nearly a full head shorter than myself. Taller than a lot of women, but few people had legs as long as mine. After Aase had gotten settled beside me on the wide coachman¡¯s seat she asked, a hint of trepidation in her voice and on her face, ¡°So, how¡¯s the pancakes?¡±

    ¡°Eccentric.¡±

    ¡°Oh dear.¡±

    I took my second bite along with Aase, as we both made complicated faces. I snuck another peek at Aase and bit back asking if there was anything I could do for her. I learned not to ask women that the hard way back in high school, as it made the opposite gender think I thought they could only want to be around me if I could do something for them. Instead I worked my brain hard to come up with some of that harmless small talk that people seemed to like.

    ¡°How did you sleep?¡± Yeah. I¡¯m not very good with small talk.

    ¡°Not very well, actually. It¡¯s my first time sleeping on the ground, and the bed rolls are kinda thin.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    And I had no idea how to follow up on that. God, why do people like small talk? Instead of suffering conversationally, I decided to suffer orally, and cut some of the sausage into a bite sized serving. As I chewed, I got a curious sensation in my mouth. The sausage seemed to have been preserved with some salt, which mixed with the juices and with the aftertaste of the caramel which heightened the pancake¡¯s aftertaste. It was¡­ good? Maybe the meal wasn¡¯t so bad after all?

    But then again¡­ caramelized salt-pork. My stomach heaved slightly. I quickly decided that I would try my absolute best to not think too deeply about the food that I ate from now on.

    ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble,¡± asked Aase as she ended a wondering stare at the pancake on her fork to look over at me. ¡°Could we try learning magic after we finish¡­ this?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sure, I¡¯d love to.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± exclaimed Aase, beaming a smile.

    Then we ate in silence again, until Aase asked a question when there were only a few bites of breakfast remaining. ¡°So, I know we barely know each other, but is there any chance I could sleep with you?¡±

    I got caught somewhere between spitting out a mouthful of sausage and prematurely swallowing a lump of meat. After narrowly averting my choking to death and swallowing, I almost got out an exclamation before Aase beat me to it and with a blushing face said, ¡°Not like that! I didn¡¯t mean like that!¡±

    ¡°Then what-?¡±

    ¡°I really don¡¯t like sleeping on the ground. It¡¯s rocky and uneven, and my back hurts,¡± Aase stretched her back to cope with stiffness and for the first time I noticed Aase had a fairly generous chest for her age group. Damn it, why did my mind have to start going down that route! I barely know her! ¡°So I was hoping you¡¯d be willing to share half your bed with me, if it¡¯s big enough. I don¡¯t want to intrude, I really don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°No! No, it¡¯s fine. I don¡¯t mind sharing it with you. Anyone else in this camp, yeah, but not you. We Earthlings have to stick together. Not that I intend to stick to you at night, cause we¡¯ll be on different sides of the bed.¡± Damnnit, Aase¡¯s face was starting to look amused. This is why women shouldn¡¯t be allowed to ambush men like this! ¡°Jus- you know- Just- Please don¡¯t get angry at me if we somehow get tangled up because of our sleeping patterns. I promise I won¡¯t try and take advantage of you, if you promise to be understanding about misunderstandings. Wait, that came out wrong, I mean- um-¡±

    ¡°I get it, I get it. And I promise, as long as you don¡¯t do anything on purpose, I¡¯ll forgive you. Thank you for your kindness, Xander.¡± Damn it! Now she¡¯s got a beaming smile. That''s a really nice smile.

    ¡°How old are you anyway?¡± Shit! It leaked out! I was be-smitten and it leaked! Damage control! ¡°I mean, you seem so young, so I was curious, just for curiosity¡¯s-¡±

    Aase¡¯s surprise turned into honest, hearty laughter as she turned back to me and said, ¡°My birthday was two months ago.¡±

    As Aase turned away again, getting ready to step out of the wagon, I breathed a sigh of relief. Crap, wait- ¡°Which birthday, Aase?¡±

    With a truly amused smile, Aase grabbed my wrist and pulled me after her, saying, ¡°Time for my magic lesson! Let¡¯s go! Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Crap, she grabbed the wrist? Is that the friend zone on touching? Holding hands is romantic, but what does the wrist count as?! Before I could finish my freak out, Aase had found a nice quiet spot not too far away from the wagons and the soldiers who were eating and cleaning up camp. Aase quickly let go of me, turned around and sat down on the soft earth forcing me to join her. When we were sitting cross legged before each other, I asked, ¡°Why are we sitting like this?¡±

    ¡°Well, you said that learning magic was like meditation. Isn¡¯t this how people meditate?¡±

    I¡¯ve never actually understood the need for a specific body position for meditation. You can breathe and think without twisting your legs up under you. But if it helps. ¡°Yeah, sure. Uh, close your eyes and breath deeply. Deep and even breaths.¡±

    Aase did that thing people do with the thumb and middle fingers while resting her hands on her knees, closed her eyes and started the breathing exercises. Okay, how did it go? I guess I should go through it along with Aase as well. So I closed my eyes and breathed. Once my own breathing was stable, I started speaking again.

    ¡°Relax, and let the outside world fall away. Slowly look inward, but not to a specific place. Just become aware of yourself. Let your awareness come to you. Eventually you¡¯ll find a spot that seems warmer¡­ a little more alive? Don¡¯t try and find it, just let it find you. Breathe, and relax, until it finds you.¡±

    I repeated the words ¡°Breathe and relax¡± a few times as Aase dove inside herself. I have to say, this was really helping me calm down after making a fool of myself earlier, and I used the chance to reach out and feel that first sensation of the world around me from when I learned magic once again. Shortly, Aase said, ¡°I think I found it.¡±

    ¡°Okay, good. That is your Magic Reservoir. It¡¯s the part of you that you draw magic from. Try and do so now, not by grabbing the magic, but by gently willing it to move. Slowly. When you feel your magic move once, try to consciously move it about your body.¡±

    Aase might be able to do the body strengthening as well as external magic like I can. It¡¯s worth trying.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ hard¡­¡± said Aase, strain evident in her voice.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. Don¡¯t force it too much. Just try and get use to it.¡± Aase¡¯s aptitude may not be as high as mine, but it¡¯s fine. Seems she¡¯s able to tap her reservoir, after all. Huh. It almost seemed like I knew what I was doing. Anyway. ¡°Tell me once you get comfortable doing it to some degree.¡±

    Eventually, Aase said, ¡°Okay. I think I¡¯m use to it.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Okay, what came next? Well, image is important to magic I think, so let¡¯s try that. ¡°Aase, I want you to imagine your magic. The form you want your magic to take, what is the easiest for you to see in your mind. Think about what you want to do with your magic. And once you have that solid form, slowly reach your magic outside yourself, and let that form become reality.¡±

    Aase kept breathing deeply for a little while, before she gasped and I felt some kind of wave of pressure come from her that felt like magic. I opened my eyes to find that Aase had opened hers as well, and was looking around her expectantly. After a moment, she seemed a little dejected and her head lowered a bit. Seems she wasn¡¯t able to materialize her magic.

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. We can try again until you get the hang of it. Truth be told, I may not be a good teacher. Maybe I should go get-¡± no, wait. Definitely not Mercy. ¡°Uh, Daphne? She¡¯d probably be a good teacher.¡±

    I flinched as something fell past my face. Then another something, white and drifting. I looked up, startled and wary, to see a lot more of them. It was snow. The weather was slightly cool, but not nearly cold enough to produce snow, and yet it was snowing.

    ¡°It worked,¡± exclaimed Aase, as she was bouncing on her butt and clapping. ¡°It worked! I can use magic!¡±

    I stood up from the ground that somehow seemed harder than it had been before I sat and looked around with Aase joining me. The snow wasn¡¯t sticking, it was melting the moment it touched the ground, but the spread of the falling snowflakes were as far as I could see in the wooded area. Aase¡¯s magic had spread further than I had thought magic could spread. At that moment, I heard Mercy¡¯s surprised exclamation of, ¡°Impossible!¡± which cinched it.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°Congratulations, Aase. You can use magic.¡±

    Aase¡¯s broad smile matched my own, and then she bounded up, gave me a friendly hug that made my ribs protest, all the while repeating ¡°Thank you! Thank you!¡± before breaking off abruptly and watching the snow fall like a kid whose wish for a white Christmas was granted.

    * * * * *

    ¡°You are certain, the miracle we¡¯ve been waiting for has happened,¡± asked the man behind the black leather mask that covered all but his mouth and chin.

    ¡°Yes, Grandmaster,¡± reported a robed figure kneeling before an ancient stone dais in a decrepit mausoleum lit with ensconced torches, where the Grandmaster of The Disorder sat upon a throne salvaged from a dozen heretic hunts. ¡°All accounts in The Holy Capital confirm the descent of The Herald, the agents placed close to the diplomats all have commonalities in the messages being sent to their homelands, and Agent Thorn got a complete story from a Holy Guard that was on hand for the descent by plying him with wine. There can be no doubt, my Lord. The Key is real.¡±

    The masked Grandmaster gripped the armrest, stained with the blood of his predecessors, hard enough for his knuckles to turn white as he experienced an elation so great he nearly climaxed sexually. He groaned the word ¡°yes¡± in such a guttural voice that no ears, save his own, could catch it. After the overwhelming pleasure left his body, and the Grandmaster¡¯s arching back had straightened, he smiled broadly to the messenger and spoke.

    ¡°Prepare coded missives, to be sent to all our Brothers and Sisters, to be watchful for The Key, and to report back any sighting. They are to take no individual action, but are merely to watch and report.¡±

    A voice rang from one of the many shadows in the chamber filled with bones that had been strewn about the ground by rats centuries ago. ¡°Should we not be more bold, Grandmaster? The advent of The Key is surely a sign from our Master that the time for our uprising is now upon us! With the Master¡¯s support, we will surely be victorious!¡±

    ¡°The Master is not yet freed,¡± shouted the Grandmaster, agony at that truth coloring his voice. ¡°As such we must remain in the shadows, moving without catching the notice of The Faith. Do not worry Brothers and Sisters, instead, rejoice. For the time we have all longed for will be realized within our lifetimes. For once we find and track The Key, we will open The Door. In the meantime, though, there is nothing preventing us from preparing as many ritual sites as possible throughout the lands, so that when The Key is in our grasp, we will be able to act immediately, and meet our True God.¡±

    The groans of pleasure radiated out of and through the many shadows of the chamber as all those in attendance felt the physical elation just from thinking of meeting their deity in reality, instead of just feeling him scratching at their minds from the other side of their dreams.

    * * * * *

    I lept into consciousness like I was fleeing from a tidal wave, my body bolting up from the soft mattress. The inside of the wagon in the middle of the night was so dark that for a moment I was afraid I was still dreaming, as I lacked all sense of location. Aase¡¯s startled and groggy voice caught me before my mind went to any other strange places, and I found my awareness being grounded by her question.

    ¡°Hva er det? Whatz going on? Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Aase,¡± I panted out. I realized just then that I was out of breath and had been in a cold sweat. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.¡±

    ¡°Not until you answer my question. Are you alright?¡± Aase put insistence into her voice like she was an older sister that detected her kid brother¡¯s attempt to dodge a question. I very nearly lied and told her I was fine¡­ But I actually did want to talk.

    ¡°I was dreaming about the colors. It was like I was being attacked by them, all over again.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± said Aase, gravely. She knew exactly what I was talking about. The colors that tormented us when we were ushered into this world. ¡°How often do you dream about them?¡±

    ¡°This is the third time.¡± I lent on my knees as I was talking, and I heard Aase changing position to sit up. ¡°I dream that I¡¯m alone, being pounded on and pursued by those colors, and there was nothing I could do to get away from them, they were-¡±

    ¡°They were everywhere, right?¡± That sure as hell caught my attention. ¡°I had a similar nightmare too, on the first night, and the second.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been having the same nightmare?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, pretty much. But I¡¯m okay now, I think I¡¯ve stopping having them.¡±

    ¡°How? What changed?¡±

    Aase was quiet for a time before thoughtfully speaking, emotion threatening to tear apart her voice. ¡°Xander. I won¡¯t ever be able to see my parents or my grandparents again. I¡¯ll never be able to talk to Ida. I don¡¯t even know if any of them are okay. I¡¯m cut off from everyone I¡¯ve ever known. ...Am I alone here?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± I denied reflexively. ¡°You may not really know me, but I¡¯m here for you. As long as we stick together, we¡¯ll get through whatever happens.¡±

    There was a short sniff, and then Aase said, with full conviction, ¡°Exactly.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not alone. And neither are you. We have each other. You said it yourself the other day. We Earthlings have to stick together. And we will. After that day, I stopped having the nightmare, because it¡¯s no longer just me alone against the world. Just like how it¡¯s not you alone against the world, either. You have me to watch your back. And I guess those soldiers too, to some extent.¡±

    ¡°Though they¡¯re unreliable at best,¡± I snarked.

    ¡°Very unreliable,¡± Aase snarked back. Then after a brief shared chuckle, Aase hesitantly asked, ¡°Is that all that¡¯s keeping you up at night?¡±

    My Xander-Sense tingled at the tone there. There was some kind of subtext in that question. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    I could hear Aase take a breath and do something with her lips before she admitted, ¡°It¡¯s about the men you killed. I was wondering¡­ if it bothered you. Taking their lives.¡±

    Oh, only that?

    ¡°Not really, Aase. Colonel Lumpy was a bastard, I could tell that right away from when he was trying to strangle me. And killing him was legitimate self defense, it was him or me. So I don¡¯t really feel anything about killing him.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Aase only made that one noise. It wasn¡¯t judgemental, disappointed, or disgusted in the slightest. It was a completely neutral sound. I¡¯m not sure what it was about that sound, but it prodded me on a little. And I spoke about something I had been trying not to think of.

    ¡°...The two aids are different, though.¡±

    ¡°I thought Mercy said those two were killed by the lumpy guy.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, maybe they were. Or they were already dead from the fight with me before Colonel Lumpy blew them up, I dunno.¡±

    ¡°Does that really matter? Who it was that killed those two?¡±

    ¡°Not to them, no,¡± I quipped. ¡°But for me¡­ I don¡¯t know if I killed them, or if I got them killed. If I had taken a couple steps to the left before I started charging Colonel Lumpy, maybe the both of them would be alive. And healthy if I¡¯d have gotten them to Daphne in time. Two more Enslaved recruits to our¡­ whatever this is, instead of rotting under a hill of rubble.¡±

    ¡°Would it bother you if you really were the one who killed them, instead of Colonel Lumpy?¡±

    ¡°Not at all. They were coming at me with swords, they got what was coming to them.¡±

    Aase was quiet for a moment before saying, ¡°So what you have conflicting feelings about is not that they died, but that you don''t know why they¡¯re dead.¡±

    Whoa. Epiphany. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it. That¡¯s it exactly.¡±

    ¡°I understand exactly how you feel.¡±

    Ah. Xander-Sense, tingling. ¡°And you know that how?¡±

    Aase was quiet for far longer than she had been before. She sat up straight and it sounded like she started rubbing her hands against the cut off shorts made from a pair of those prison red uniform pants to form makeshift pajama bottoms. Eventually, she started with, ¡°I tried to murder Ida¡¯s father.¡±

    Working hard to keep everything out of my voice, I said, ¡°Why don¡¯t you start from the beginning.¡± There had to be a good reason behind it, after all. Right? Please?

    ¡°About four years ago, I found out that Ida¡¯s father was¡­ forcing himself on her.¡±

    Good reason. Very good reason. ¡°You¡¯re sure. One hundred percent?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Completely sure. One of the nights after Ida confided in me in tears, I got one of my axes and made my way to Ida¡¯s house. My family found out I was gone and started looking for me before I could get to Ida¡¯s house on foot.¡±

    ¡°You must have a paranoid family for them to have started panicking so quickly.¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, not really. It was several kilometers to Ida¡¯s home and it was snowing at the time, which slowed me down enough for my grandfather to catch up to me. His headlights caught me looking inside Ida¡¯s house through a window when he pulled into the driveway. I wasn¡¯t quick enough to hide my axe, and, well, grandpa somehow knew what I was intending to do.¡±

    Lurking outside someone¡¯s house wielding an axe? No kidding. Wait, why the hell did Aase have multiple axes, all to her teenaged self? Let¡¯s hope that¡¯s not a bad sign.

    ¡°So your grandfather stopped you from becoming a murderer? What did he do after that?¡±

    ¡°He killed Ida¡¯s father in my place.¡±

    ¡°Your grandfather axe murdered him?!¡± Damn, Aase¡¯s family was hard core!

    ¡°Nei, nei, he shot him.¡± At my next outburst, Aase started to sound a little annoyed and said, ¡°I think maybe I skipped forward too quickly.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you did. What exactly did your grandfather do immediately after he caught up with you?¡±

    ¡°He took my axe and put it in the trunk of the car before anyone else saw it and took me to a restaurant outside of town. While we ate, he asked me what was going on and when I told him¡­ well, he got real quiet and told me to leave the rest to him.¡±

    ¡°Did you know what he was going to do?¡± I asked to facilitate the story.

    ¡°I had an idea. Grandpa had been a soldier for NATO, so he¡¯d seen combat. And the look in his eyes when he told me to leave it to him. ...Yes. I knew.¡±

    ¡°How did your grandfather do it?¡±

    ¡°My father and grandfather liked to hunt. Grandpa was able to push the idea of inviting Ida¡¯s father to deepen the relationship between the families. There were enough people on the trip that the hunters split into groups, and Grandpa paired up with Ida¡¯s father. After that, there was an ¡®accident¡¯ and Ida¡¯s father never came home. I still remember the wink Grandpa gave me from across the room when my father sat me down to give me the bad news.¡±

    ¡°So your granddad got away with it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. He even attended the funeral with us. The whole community felt sorry for him, it being his rifle that misfired that trip. Ida started to get better after that, and now she¡¯s mostly back to her old self. But still, I have that nagging feeling at the back of my heart.¡±

    ¡°That feeling of not knowing the reason why someone died?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Aase, melancholy deep in her voice. ¡°I know that Ida¡¯s father is dead because of me. I know that. But I don¡¯t know if my Grandfather killed him because he was raping Ida, or because he knew that if he didn¡¯t do it, I would. Either way, though, he¡¯s dead because of me.¡±

    ¡°The bastard is dead because he was a piece of shit,¡± I said with conviction. I didn¡¯t even hesitate a half beat before speaking. ¡°He died because he was hurting his daughter, not because you tried to intervene. I¡¯ve never met your grandad, but I¡¯m guessing he didn¡¯t do the deed because of you, but to protect you against a sexual predator. In fact, it¡¯s a good thing he interceded when he did, because you never would have gotten away with an axe murder, Aase. You¡¯d have gone to jail, and Ida never would have had you there to help pick up the pieces.¡±

    ¡°You think?¡± asked Aase, her voice a vulnerable whisper.

    ¡°I know,¡± I stated unequivocally. ¡°Your granddad was even able to get away with murder, meaning your family wasn¡¯t broken up by the crime. It was the best case scenario. You did absolutely nothing wrong, Aase. Nothing.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t see her in the dark, but it sounded like Aase choked out a sob, then some tears, and said through a half blubber, ¡°Thank you.¡± It was a very¡­ heartwarming moment? Bonding over murder? God, the world is one big shade of grey!

    After Aase had cried a while and I had found her shoulder to gently pat, Aase was able to calm down again. Seems contracting a hit through your grandpa had a way of weighing on you, as the process took a while. But eventually I felt it was a good point to say, ¡°Let¡¯s both go back to sleep. We¡¯ve had a pretty intense night, and I think it¡¯s time it came to an end.¡±

    Aase gave a chuckle as though I was being genuinely funny instead of blithe, and agreed. As we maneuvered ourselves to comfort between the sheets Aase took hold of my hand and said, ¡°If we do this, then even if we dream about the colors again, we won¡¯t be alone.¡±

    It was a little awkward, falling asleep like that, but I was able to. I couldn¡¯t remember what I had dreamt about that night, but it was a pleasant dream. I know that much.

 Chapter 12: Within Wheels (2)

    The banquet chamber was darkened by the overpowering blackness of night, and the lack of any more than two candles lit in the candelabra that sat at either end of the long table. In the long room, decorated in equally dim and dark furnishings and works of art that, despite the dour selection of colors, held the highest artistic value, sat well dressed men and women crowding both sides of the long table. These people were in the midst of a secret talk, but the reason for the dim candlelight was not to keep their identities a secret. It was because they had no need for any more light to see one another with.

    Between daintily cutting a piece of meat upon his obsidian plate and placing it in his mouth, one of the participants said in feigned calm, ¡°Yes, my sources have also confirmed the Holy Capital¡¯s conviction of a new Demon King. Not just from their Cathedral of Vigilance, but from the Herald himself.¡±

    The other occupants of the room were suitably awed in nearly mute utterances and whispers as the speaker, Duke Faberjeene slowly savored his cut of meat. The Duke, the elected de facto leader of their little community held his tongue, savoring the effect the news had on his peers as much as he did his meal. All in attendance were happily playing the role of shocked bystander, chattering and re-exclaiming their surprise to one another until one of the occupants near the far end of the table folded her fan of black silk and lace with a snap and said audibly, though daintily, ¡°Most fascinating news, my dear Duke. But it cannot be all the news that you possess, otherwise you never would have invited us to this exquisite dinner party.¡±

    The woman was right. The revelation of just now was old news to all at the table. Every diplomatic channel was currently abuzz with the news of this Demon King the Goddess herself took notice of, and all the important players in the depths of the Demon Kingdoms already knew of the transpired events. And the ones occupying the banquet table knew the news before any of those important players, as befitting the special rumor mill that they all tap into.

    There was a slight tension in the air, as the guests were simultaneously miffed at having their performances of surprise interrupted, and a very real desire to learn what their leader knew. And this was also a palpable atmosphere that Duke Faberjeene reveled in, as he very slowly nodded his head to say, ¡°Indeed, Countess LaRoche.¡± The Duke just as slowly pulled a stray bit of his shoulder length dark purple hair to tuck back behind his ear as he broke the real news. ¡°I can now confirm that the newly recognized Demon King can definitely not be found inside the Demon Kingdoms.¡±

    This time the tiny gasp of surprise around the table was genuine. But the Duke would not let their reactions circumvent the rest of his news. ¡°Furthermore, the new Demon King is completely unknown to all those in power in all the civilized lands. Which means the new Demon King is a completely unknown being to all the people of any worth throughout the world. We currently have, for lack of a better definition, a Phantom Demon King.¡±

    The guests in attendance laughed politely to the joke, one they were all suitably amused by, considering that ability and circumstance which bound them to one another.

    ¡°Yes, please forgive me for that. I could not resist,¡± said the Duke with a display of humble modesty.

    ¡°There is nothing to forgive, old friend,¡± said one guest as a well dressed butler stiffly refreshed the man¡¯s drink with a ruby liquid too thick to be wine. ¡°But pray tell, as you are so much more witty than I, what does this valuable information entail?¡±

    ¡°Why, don¡¯t you see, old friend,¡± spoke the Duke as he interlaced his fingers before him. ¡°What this means is that there is currently a Demon King that is completely unaligned to any political power.¡±

    ¡°A free agent,¡± exclaimed a voice.

    ¡°One we might ally with,¡± exclaimed another.

    ¡°Or command,¡± came a third.

    ¡°Lord Duke, I take this to mean you feel that this is the time for our long cherished desire to come to fruition? No, no, away with you,¡± inquired the Countess LaRoche as she waved away the butler in mild revulsion. For in her eyes the skilled and capable body that was preserved through magic and embalming alike was but a crude construct.

    ¡°Perhaps, my dear Countess, perhaps. We must first find and then sound out this new Demon King, before any other power can do so. We must not allow his views to be tainted by any other, otherwise he may never work with us.¡±

    The table was properly sobered by their leader¡¯s remark, for they all knew the truth of it, as every person in attendance was under no illusion as to how their kind was viewed. In that air of self defeat, spoke the leader that was elected not for his power or for his charm, but for his vision and ability. ¡°Do not fret so, my friends. I merely wish to keep us grounded, and preserve that patience that only we, and the dead, are known for.¡±

    Another polite laughter arose, lightening the mood as Duke Faberjeene continued.

    ¡°Now that everyone is aware of our circumstances, I ask for three things. The first is, as I said, patience; so that we may not be the agents of our own downfall as we were once before.¡±

    Many heads in the room nodded.

    ¡°The second is secrecy. For if we breathe a word of this, or of our plans to any outsider, or even to one another outside these walls, our secrets will be brought to the ears of those who would interfere, without question.¡±

    Heads nodded again, with faces filled with grim determination.

    ¡°And third, we will need an envoy, to be dispatched to-¡±

    ¡°I volunteer,¡± stated the Countess LaRoche, interrupting the Duke and preempting any discussion of the subject. That did not dissuade a hurried discussion by the table in overblown whispers of surprise.

    The Duke looked square at the Countess, garbed in her dark fineries of silk, lace, and leather. Her deep purple hair elaborately drawn up atop her head in combs and pins, revealing the pale and slender neckline that led to her fearless and mildly amused features. The two locked their maroon eyes together as the Duke asked, ¡°You are certain you wish for this task? For all we know, this unknown King is in the depths of the Twenty Kingdoms. You are willing to travel so far? In person?¡±

    The Countess smiled in winning confidence, her long pointed incisors pale in the darkness. ¡°I would travel to the other side of the world and back again if it meant fulfilling our shared dream. And besides, none of us are so well suited as I for travel through the human lands, thanks to my specialty.¡±

    Duke Faberjeene thought on the matter deeply, and eventually disentangled his fingers before saying, ¡°The countess is correct, she is very well suited to this role, in both ability and personality.¡± The Duke raised a glass to the Countess, who graciously bowed her head, as he spoke the words. ¡°Any opposed to the appointment of the Countess LaRoche to the position?¡±

    The room was as silent as a mausoleum.

    ¡°Then it is decided. I would request that all of you very discreetly try to not speak of the sudden coolness that has arisen between the Countess and myself at whichever functions you attend from now on. So that when she eventually disappears, all the so very concerned parties will fear the worst for her fate.¡±

    The guests all expressed a conspiratorial chuckle, as each and every one loved toying with the demon aristocracy when the situation merited.

    ¡°And my dear Countess, please make discrete preparations for departure to points unknown. You may not have much warning or time to prepare otherwise. As soon as there is news to be had, I shall learn of it. For as we all know, none spread gossip so quickly as the spirits of the dead.¡±

    The chamber resounded with polite laughter.

    * * * * *

    ¡°Travel is booooooooring,¡± I exclaimed like a petulant first grader. I knew it was immature, but it¡¯s so much fun I didn¡¯t care.

    ¡°Your complaining about it doesn¡¯t make it any easier, asshole.¡±

    I sat up from my position on my bed-wagon and turned to face Callic, who was marshalling the horses, to say, ¡°I disagree. Annoying you puts a smile on my face, Callic. How does it feel to be making the world a happier place?¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Callic turned to look at me, his face contorted like he smelled a fart and said, ¡°I really wish I could kill you.¡±

    ¡°You know Callic, I don¡¯t have to take that. I¡¯m going to go where I¡¯m appreciated.¡±

    I hopped off the back of the bed-wagon while it was moving and started looking for somewhere I could go where¡­ I¡¯d be appreciated. Aase would appreciate my company¡­ but she was walking alongside the wagons at the moment, and I didn¡¯t feel like walking anymore for the day. The cooks would probably welcome me, mostly, but they were really interested in the foods from my own world. I¡¯d started avoiding them after I accidentally mentioned haggis. Now, I knew very little about haggis, but I knew enough that I didn¡¯t want to accidentally introduce it to my own cooks. Mercy was riding on the clothing and bedding wagon, and I sure as hell didn¡¯t want to be around her, so-

    ¡°Hi, Daphne. Mind if I join you?¡±

    I hopped up on the coachman¡¯s seat of the medical wagon before Daphne could say anything to the contrary.

    ¡°Oh, okay. Uh, sure?¡±

    Then we sat in awkward silence. Silence that soon became less awkward once my mind started roaming at random. I started wondering if they made Hershey¡¯s Kisses all the same shape using a mold or just dolloped them onto a conveyor belt¡­

    ¡°Are you really from another world?¡± asked Daphne. Seems I was the only one the silence stopped being awkward for.

    ¡°That depends. Is this world named Earth?¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s named Meaorh.¡±

    ¡°Then, yes. I¡¯m from another world.¡±

    The silence fell once again. ...Okay, fine, I¡¯ll throw you a bone.

    ¡°Was there more you wanted to know, Daphne?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah. Umm¡­ what¡¯s your world like?¡±

    Oy vey. Fight the snark, Xander. Fight it.

    ¡°Well, for one, most of the roads are paved, instead of being uneven, mud drenched paths that wouldn¡¯t know a straight line if it beat them over the head with a shovel,¡± I said, indicating the path we were currently traveling down.

    Partial victory over the snark.

    ¡°Yeah, this is the middle of the reclaimed lands, so there¡¯s not much in the way of infrastructure here, unfortunately.¡±

    ¡°Reclaimed lands?¡±

    Daphne started talking in earnest, this subject seeming to be known to her.

    ¡°Yes, The reclaimed lands. This entire region used to be one big forest filled with nothing but beast and monster nests. Until about five years ago when the kingdom finally pulled enough units together to perform an organized subjugation of the entire region beyond the Four Brothers.¡±

    ¡°Four brothers?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the Four Brothers.¡± Daphne partially stood, well, stooped forwards, and pointed out the mountains that formed a range in the distance through the trees. ¡°Gordek, Gordok, Gordes, and Gordon. They were named after the founders of Fulchas, who, thousands of years ago-¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I quickly interrupted. Daphne seemed a bit hurt or regretful at my interruption, so I continued, ¡°Not right now at least. Back to the reclaimed lands. You said the military destroyed beasts and monsters? What are those?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Mercedes could explain it better. We could invite her over if you want.¡±

    Ugh. ¡°No, you¡¯ll do fine. So please tell me.¡±

    ¡°...Okay. So a beast is an animal that can either cast magic, or use physical reinforcement. Since that obviously makes the creatures more dangerous than normal animals, they''re beasts. Monsters on the other hand are creatures that have¡­¡± Daphne looked at me furtively and then seemed to have decided something. ¡°They¡¯re creatures that mutated from animals, beasts, or abominations.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re worried the word ¡®mutate¡¯ would be hard for me.¡± I said it as a statement.

    ¡°...Yes.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the concern, really, but it¡¯s alright. This is a valuable chance for me. There sure as hell is nothing else to do on this trip. So, monsters and abominations, what¡¯s the difference.¡±

    Daphne sighed through her nose, like something was off, and continued. ¡°Okay, abominations are creatures that should never have existed in the first place. They¡¯re twisted and anatomically impossible things, that are only made possible by the presence of Labyrinths.¡±

    ¡°Labyrinths?¡±

    ¡°Those¡­ are way too complicated for me to explain. Mercedes could probably explain if you really wanted to know.¡±

    ¡°No. No Mercy,¡± I said emphatically, and forced the subject back on track. ¡°So abominations are things that should never have existed in the first place. How are monsters related to them.¡±

    Daphne sighed again, and said, ¡°Abominations can only really survive inside Labyrinths. Monsters though, are more stable. They¡¯re either beasts that mutated into a more extreme life form, or abominations that stabilized enough to survive outside labyrinths. Either way, they¡¯re far more dangerous and aggressive than beasts, so they have that special designation.¡±

    I quoted off what I learned, nodding once for each word. ¡°Animals, beasts, monsters, and abominations. Got it. And these things were living here, then?¡±

    ¡°Yes, quite a lot of them. There was no way any towns could be erected in this region until they were properly hunted out. Since harmful beasts and typical monsters are aggressive by nature, the subjugation was more stand up fighting than hunting and tracking. So the whole thing was finished relatively quickly. Though it was rather bloody.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re kinda talking like you were there, Daphne.¡±

    Daphne shook her head gently while saying, ¡°No, it was my aunt who was part of the subjugation. Healing magic runs in the family, so we often enlist in the military. One of the traditions we uphold.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± I said. I paused for a moment. Okay, now I¡¯m ready to talk about her. ¡°Why are you trying to get me and Mercy to talk?¡±

    Daphne sighed and met the subject head on. ¡°Because Mercedes is miserable. That portal is basically the only thing she ever wanted to do with her life, and then you and Aase come through it. And now neither of you will even look her in the eye.¡±

    ¡°I look her in the eye plenty. They¡¯re all looks of hatred, though.¡±

    ¡°Exactly! It¡¯s a toxic environment whenever you and Aase are around Mercedes. It¡¯s enough to make even me physically uncomfortable, so I can¡¯t even imagine how bad it is for Mercedes. Look, all she wants to do is be around you and Aase. Learn from you.¡±

    ¡°Study us, you mean.¡± Daphne looked away when I said that, unable to refute it. ¡°Mercy is, at best, a sociopathic murderer who doesn¡¯t care about human life as long as it can advance her ideals. There are a lot of people like that in the history books where I come from, and all of them are monsters. Metaphorically speaking. I have no interest in being friends with a monster, Daphne.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you keeping her with us? Why haven¡¯t you kicked her out of our caravan at either of the two townships we¡¯ve gone through?¡±

    ¡°Those rinky little settlements? Mercy would stick out like a sore thumb, and be a big bright flashing sign saying, ¡®We were here.¡¯ And there''s no telling what she¡¯d do if I left her to her own devices. No, better for everyone if I keep Mercy here, where I can keep an eye on her.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s best for Mercedes?¡±

    Ugh. Stupid emotional logic. It has a way of creeping up on you, but cold logic won¡¯t be outdone!

    ¡°I said it¡¯s better for everyone that I keep Mercy at arms length, and I meant it. It¡¯s best for Mercy as well. She¡¯s the kind of person who might blow herself up on accident if you look away for two minutes because she¡¯s trying to solve the mysteries of the universe.¡±

    ¡°...I can¡¯t really say you¡¯re wrong about that¡­ But still, why don¡¯t you just give her a chance to be useful? There has to be something you could set her abilities towards? Give her a new roll to fill instead of just... being here?¡±

    ¡°Easier said than done. And even then, I¡¯m not much inclined to do it.¡±

    ¡°Why? To punish her?¡±

    I was silent for a long time. Why the hell are women so perceptive? ¡°Mercy killed a hundred and forty people. Maybe more, we don¡¯t know what that portal does to the nearby bystanders when it abducts people. And that¡¯s on top of the fact that she kidnapped me and Aase. That¡¯s a hard fact to let go of, you know.¡±

    ¡°And so, what? You¡¯re going to punish her forever?¡±

    ¡°Someone has to do it, and it sure as hell doesn¡¯t seem like Mercy will beat herself up over it.¡±

    ¡°So what you really want is for Mercedes to-¡±

    ¡°Okay, stop it, Daphne, seriously. That¡¯s enough soul searching for now.¡± Damn. What is she, a psychiatrist? ¡°And I¡¯ll think up something for Mercy to do. Happy?¡±

    Daphne beamed a smile like something really nice just happened. Was manipulating me like that really so wonderful? ¡°In the meantime, Daphne, tell me more about the reclaimed lands.¡±

    Daphne did so. I was able to learn a lot about mostly useless things, and I was able to put some thought into the Mercy problem. Turned out there was something I could have her do after all. Something I nearly forgot she could do, from that very first time I saw her.

    Later that day, after the sun had gone down, I was actually able to continue reading one of the books that I had had scavenged from Colonel Lumpy¡¯s quarters. It was part of a series that followed an overly adventurous and amorous mercenary who constantly found himself in trouble, with the amorous bits being a bit overly descriptive. The writing was mostly average, but it was something to read. And it wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as a lot of the stuff you¡¯d find on the internet. It was a nice way to unwind after a day of noisy, jarring, bouncing, hardwood seated travel. I was already on the second book in the series while Aase had just started the first that night. And it¡¯s thanks to Mercy that the two of us were able to read at night like that.

    After wracking my brains for a while I had remembered the light Mercy had produced on the end of her finger, without any kind of tool. Mercy could conjure light. I¡¯d really missed having light bulbs, so it was rather perfect for me. And it gave Mercy a new purpose in our little group.

    With Aase and I having read our fill, I set the book down and clapped my hands twice.

    A very heavy sigh was heard from Mercy who had been waiting outside the wagon for us to finish our reading before extinguishing her magic, and then left for her tent for the night.

    This new role gave Mercy a purpose, gave me a light source whenever I wanted one, and allowed me to make Mercy miserable in a whole new way. Three birds with one stone!

 Chapter 13: Within Wheels (3)

    His Holiest Raul the 4th stared at the report on his desk like his eyes could burn it to ash. The one and only hold out, and it had to be that nation.

    The polite knock at Raul¡¯s chamber pulled Raul¡¯s attention away from the report. Unconsciously, his eyes flicked to the pendulum clock mounted on the wall and reflected that even though in his own way the emissary in particular was as grating to deal with as a screaming fishmonger¡¯s wife, at least he was punctual.

    ¡°Send him in,¡± called Raul to his attendant on the other side of the door.

    The great double doors to The Holiest¡¯s office opened, each door pushed by the elite guardsmen in their impeccable armors, and in walked the diplomat for the High Elven Kingdom. Not a diplomat, but the diplomat. The only Elven emissary in all the world, stationed in the one city where every other kingdom had a diplomat placed. All of the Elven politics with outsiders went through him. And the smug knowledge of that fact penetrated him all the way down to the marrow of his bones.

    The pompous, tall, thin, beautiful, immaculately combed blond haired bastard of an elf sauntered over to the luxurious padded chair for guests. He then looked on the chair, and with an almost disguised air of disdain, bent his body and knelt on the floor with his knees together and his back straight as an arrow. It was the most uncomfortable sitting position one could take in that office, even with the padded carpet on the floor.

    ¡°You refuse to sit with me at eye level, Cultair?¡± Raul had to ask, even knowing the answer.

    ¡°I would be glad to sit with you, your Holiest, should you provide me with a more serviceable chair.¡±

    ¡°Please forgive me for not providing one,¡± without padding, armrests, or paint to prevent splintering. As are the preferences of those of the High Elven Kingdom.

    ¡°You are forgiven,¡± said Cultair, with an air of magnanimity. Raul smiled and let it pass.

    ¡°Thank you for meeting me on short notice. I wished to inquire about the report I received, written by the priest of the Cathedral of Shadows who visited you at your manor.¡±

    The word ¡°manor¡± was an overstatement. By necessity, Cultair was housed and guarded with the diligence and care his unique position required. But the inside of his dwelling was bare of all but the most basic of amenities. It was an enormous waste of property.

    ¡°What does it say,¡± inquired Cultair for forms sake.

    ¡°That you refused any and all cooperation with the Cathedral of Shadows, and that if the priest tried to press the point you would cut ties with the Holy City.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that is correct,¡± said Cultair, with the same lightness of tone as before.

    Raul took a deep breath to recenter himself, and said, ¡°You do recall that we are facing the end of the world, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And that we all need to work together to try and prevent it, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Then the High Elven Kingdom needs to cooperate with our labors as well, in order to prevent all of our mutual destruction.¡±

    Cultair rolled his eyes while he scoffed lightly through his nose and said, ¡°Now, as always, the High Elven Kingdom will watch after itself. There is no need for us to cooperate with the less pious races. Should the Key come our way, we shall deal with it on our own. Should it pose a threat, we shall dispose of it in the same way as the last Demon King that tried invading our realm. If that is not enough for you, then I suggest you re-evaluate your faith in The Goddess and in your disgusting preoccupation in the physical trappings of this world.¡±

    Trappings like flavored food and soft clothing, thought Raul as he eyed the burlap habit that was Cultairs only garb.

    ¡°Cultair, you know very well that the only reason your people can live so ¡®piously¡¯ is thanks to we who ¡®donate¡¯ to your kingdom. It¡¯s in your best interests to help us, since if the nations who support your people fall, then all of the High Elves will starve.¡±

    ¡°Then we will starve.¡±

    Even Raul couldn¡¯t believe what he¡¯d just heard, and made a sound that almost seemed like the word ¡°What.¡±

    ¡°My people are no strangers to fasting. And if it is The Goddess¡¯ will that this world perish, then our people will go to meet her with the purest souls of all the multitudes.¡±

    ¡°You wish for your people to perish,¡± asked Raul warily.

    ¡°Not at all. If we are threatened, we will retaliate by swiftly annihilating the aggressors. But if the situation can not be resolved through diplomacy, faith, or violence, then we shall simply follow the path of all life on the planet and return to The Goddess¡¯s side. Well then,¡± said Cultair, standing up while Raul was flabbergasted, ¡°I believe enough has been said. I¡¯m certain the High Elven Kingdom can expect another donation from The Holy Capital next month.¡±

    ¡°We shall see,¡± was The Holiest Raul¡¯s surly answer.

    ¡°Yes,¡± replied Cultair knowingly, ¡°We shall. Should the world remain intact, I¡¯m sure the High Elven Kingdom can expect your next visit in about... thirty years time.¡±

    Cultair turned and would have swaggered out the door but for his intense discipline, or piety, while Raul glared at his back like he was trying to light it on fire with his mind.

    * * * * *

    ¡°What happened to your head?¡± asked Callic as soon as he saw me with a displeased air.

    Great, first thing in the morning and I have to put up with this?

    ¡°I dunno,¡± I replied, with extra snark. ¡°What happened to your face?¡±

    Callic sneered at me, then went off to do something else. In response, I yawned while reclining against the bed-wagon I¡¯d just crawled out of. It was going to be a little longer until breakfast was ready and I didn¡¯t feel like wandering camp. Oh, sounds like Aase¡¯s waking up.

    In reply to a very loud yawn that sounded like it accompanied a stretch, I poked my head into the wagon and said, ¡°Good morning.¡±

    Aase rubbed her eyes while replying with her own ¡°Good morning,¡± and then unconsciously untied the band she used to keep her extremely light blonde hair in place while she slept. She stretched, and I could once again see the flexing of the muscles of her arms that formed ¡°girl guns¡± that were usually hidden by her sweater, but were now laid bare by the shortsleeved shirt that were her pajama tops. Aase was in good shape. Probably had more muscle than me, though that wasn''t saying much.

    After wiping her eyes again, Aase took her first look at me for the day while I was telling her that breakfast would be a while yet. Aase interrupted me with a gasp and asked, ¡°What happened to your head?!¡±

    Okay, now I was worried.

    I started patting at my face asking, ¡°What? What is it?¡± Aase flusteredly said, ¡°No, not your face, your hair!¡±

    Oh, God! I¡¯ve gone bald!

    In a panic I grasped the top of my head and found¡­ it was still fluffy with hair. I kept patting it down a little and then tried a stress test to see if it was falling out, as if I¡¯d been dosed by radiation. Nope, no problems.

    ¡°Don¡¯t scare me like that, Aase. I seriously thought something was wrong.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not your hair! It¡¯s your hair! Your hair has turned completely black!¡±

    * * * * *

    ¡°As far as I can tell,¡± said Daphne after bending back from her inspection, ¡°It¡¯s nothing more than a change in hair shade. Your hair is still normal hair, and there is no latent alterations to its structure. It¡¯s strange, but it doesn¡¯t seem to be dangerous. But I¡¯d like to check your hair again at specific intervals over the course of the next few days, just to make sure.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± I said, ¡°Sounds goo-¡± snip

    I quickly turned around at the sound and exclaimed, ¡°Mercy, did you just cut my hair?!¡±

    Mercy quickly looked to her left hand with a tuft of my hair in it, that really was as black as night, and at her right hand holding a pair of scissors, before looking back at me. Did the thought of denying it cross her mind for a moment? After another beat for her to form a thought, Mercy said, ¡°I¡¯m just taking a sample for analysis.¡±

    ¡°What the hell are you going to analyze it with?¡± It was a valid question. Mercy no longer had a lab or equipment. Undaunted, Mercy took a sharp intake of breath, then held it as her face showed a confused expression, then she muttered, ¡°Oh, yeah. Well, I¡¯ll hold onto the sample anyway.¡±

    Then Mercy walked off.

    ¡°Why did we call her over, again?¡± I asked Daphne.

    ¡°Cause she¡¯s the expert,¡± said Daphne as though she was trying to convince me and herself.

    ¡°Whatever,¡± I said, and then spoke to the relieved Aase who was perched nearby, ¡°Let¡¯s go get something to eat. We¡¯ve got another long day ahead of us.¡±

    And we did. We were starting to get near the edge of the reclaimed area, apparently, and closer to more settled territory. But for all the importance of that fact, my day still consisted of a few hours walking, a few hours riding, a few hours talking, and a few hours of just plain boredom. Didn¡¯t help that I¡¯d notice Mercy spying on me every once in awhile. And while our travel party noticed some creatures shadowing us in the woods at one point, there was no combat. Just another sun drenched day of compulsory hiking.

    Well, at least it was easy to sleep well after moving my body so much. And as we were getting dinner served up as twilight started to fall I noticed that Aase¡¯s ultra blond hair had taken on a new luster from all the sun drenching it¡¯d been going through. As the beef and veggie stew with a side of oaty bread smeared with roasted garlic was handed out and eaten, I found myself looking over at Aase a little more often than I was doing a few days ago.

    She and I had been getting along better lately, far better than on that first day especially. She¡¯d opened up to me, and I to her. That was rare for me to do even back on Earth. Especially since Chelsea. ...Let¡¯s not think of her.

    But sharing the bed with Aase had been nicer than I thought it would be. The mattress had also started to take on a bit of her smell (and less of Lumpy¡¯s) which was nice. And we seemed to get along together? I dunno, is there something there? But she might be too young. The only times I asked her age, she toyed with me, so I still didn¡¯t have any clue. Her purse and wallet didn¡¯t transfer with her so there was no way for me to clandestinely check her driver¡¯s license.

    Before I knew it, I was taking more than just furtive glances at Aase and taking really good looks. The last gasps of day played with her hair, causing it to reflect the final golden hue of the sun just before it surrendered its hold over the sky and darkness began to settle. When the reflective gleam of pure sunlight left her shoulders, that was when I noticed it.

    I dropped my empty soup bowl and hurried to Aase¡¯s side while calling for Daphne and, what the hell, Mercy as well. ¡°What,¡± asked Aase worriedly, ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Sitting Aase down on a stool in the center of the camp with everybody looking on, I gave Aase the news. ¡°You¡¯ve gone white.¡± I grabbed a stray bit of her hair and held it up before Aase¡¯s eyes, which went wide in surprise and panic. It was a natural reaction, since her hair had gone from a bright blonde to a pure white.

    The medical inspection by Daphne and Mercy was quick, efficient, and thankfully without surprises. Daphne eventually said, ¡°It appears to be the exact same physical change that presented itself in Xander this morning. As far as I can tell, there are no lasting physical problems, but I¡¯d like to check your condition alongside Xander if you¡¯re okay with that?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s fine,¡± said Aase distractedly. ¡°But why is my hair white? Xander¡¯s turned black.¡±

    Mercy immediately answered, ¡°The mutations between the two of you will obviously present differently since you are two completely different people. The first evidence of this was the eye colors. But now that we have a second mutation event I can postulate that whatever mutations present themselves, Xander will experience them first, soon followed by Aase. Exactly the same but for the minute cosmetic difference. I must admit, the two of you really are fascinating sub-... people.¡±

    After I scrutinized Mercy for a few seconds for very nearly using that forbidden word, I turned to sum up, ¡°So we don¡¯t know what is happening to our hair, but it doesn¡¯t seem dangerous, is that-¡± snip

    All eyes turned towards Mercy, who was running a cut length of pure white hair through the fingers that weren¡¯t holding a pair of scissors. When she noticed the glares, Mercy asked, ¡°What?¡±

    * * * * *

    Corte was the very epitome of the being known as ¡°The Butler.¡± His garments were always impeccable, he himself was unflappable, and could move swiftly through the chambers of his master¡¯s abode while carrying a silver tray with a letter upon it without his feet making any more sound than a hushed whisper. He swiftly reached his master¡¯s bed chamber where the married couple always ate their breakfast in private before dressing and meeting their days head on. At that chamber door, Corte knocked gently, knowingly interrupting his master¡¯s meal time. He would never have done so if the seal on the letter had not been green wax, with a second seal of pale blue.

    The annoyed ¡°Enter¡± of Corte¡¯s master reached his sharp ears and he opened both the chamber doors wide using only the force of one hand while holding the silver tray steady with the other. Such a needlessly complicated act was expected of a Butler like himself, and for a Butler of his position, it was required that he perform such acts often and flawlessly. He did so again today.

    ¡°An important message has just arrived, my Lord and Lady, meant for your eyes only,¡± said Corte from a flawless bow. After being given permission to approach the dining table, Corte set the silver tray down directly between the two who were seated there. The man was tall, powerfully built, and had dark hair cut close to his head and combed back. His features were stern as stone, with the only blemishes being a white patch at one of his temples that a low born lout would call a Skunk Spot, and a few age lines. The woman was brown haired with eyes of such a light blue that they held the same color as ice from an ancient glacier.

    Corte turned and walked out of the bed chamber without his existence being affirmed or denied by his employers, and closed the great double doors behind him, fastening the latch without a sound. After ensuring that the letter that had been directly passed into his hands had been given to the rightful recipient, Corte stood in front of the door and sharpened his senses to ensure that there were no others around who could eavesdrop on the matters the letter would contain. Of course this meant that Corte would overhear every word of the ensuing conversation. But at the same time, Corte would register nothing. It was a part of a Butler¡¯s job description to hear everything and nothing, after all.

    ¡°It¡¯s a report on the facility beyond the Four Brothers. I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t need to name it¡± said Corte¡¯s master.

    ¡°You do not. What does it say?¡±

    ¡°The resupply delivery came upon the base, ruined from it¡¯s own disposal charges.¡±

    ¡°Somehow I knew that research base would not come to a decent end. Does it say who attacked it?¡±

    ¡°Be quiet, I¡¯m still reading. Hmm¡­ The agent¡¯s conclusions suggests against an attack. It seems the base was evacuated, and then destroyed while empty.¡±

    ¡°Evacuated? I don¡¯t remember you giving Braug such an order.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Then it couldn¡¯t have been evacuated. His collar would not allow him to defy your wishes.¡±

    ¡°Yet it seems he somehow did, for the agent goes on to describe the eyewitness reports of the townspeople in a nearby settlement concerning a wagon train of people matching the uniforms and descriptions of the stationed soldiers, commanded by a man in a long black leather coat.¡±

    ¡°Braug, then. He does so love that coat of his.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Corte¡¯s master said, malice and anger dripping from the word. ¡°Braug has somehow disobeyed my orders and destroyed that facility before results could be had. And he spared the lives of the soldiers against my expressed wishes. Considering the collar, that should be impossible.¡±

    ¡°Could someone have overwritten your control over him?¡±

    Corte¡¯s master was silent for a few moments before saying, ¡°We shall find out. We must move the Kingdom¡¯s army immediately.¡±

    ¡°No. The timing is poor for such a thing. With this new Demon King and the proclamations of The Faith, any unwarranted military actions will bring the highest scrutiny down on us. We can¡¯t be seen to have any knowledge of that damned facility or it¡¯s research, or it may mean our necks. I told you we never should have-¡±

    A dry impact floated to Corte¡¯s ears, as did the sound of a person falling to the ground.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t the right to tell me anything. The benefits of an army of heroes under my command outweighed any and all other risks. But that won¡¯t happen now¡­ So we merely need to clean up the mess. ...Who do I control that can be moved without fearing a military inquisition?¡±

    ¡°...No one I can think of. Not for a search and destroy mission, not without either arousing suspicion or compromising any of our other holdings.¡±

    ¡°...Yes. You are right. No one I control. ...But what about Mur?¡±

    ¡°Mur? Our eighteenth child? You mean to sortie the Seventh Knight Squadron? They are a blunt instrument, this situation calls for a silent clean up.¡±

    ¡°No, it requires resolution and the destruction of all evidence. Besides, Mur has inherited my blood and heritage more strongly than any of our other children. Mur¡¯s loyalty and silence are assured. Now then, I believe I will send the Seventh Squadron to the towns in the reclaimed lands first to dispose of the witnesses, and chase Braug down after that.¡±

    ¡°No, you won¡¯t.¡±

    Corte heard another dry impact, followed by a few more as his master strictly said, ¡°You presume to order me?¡±

    ¡°I presume to protect the people, and us! I will not have our child recklessly murdering civilians!¡±

    ¡°You are in no position to make such demands!¡±

    ¡°Yes, I am! Either we constrain Mur and the Seventh Squadron only to purging people who know where Braug was and what he was doing, or I stop cooperating with you in public! Imagine the backlash you¡¯ll receive, the loss of power and authority, if our private affairs were exposed to daylight.¡±

    ¡°It would mean your life if you did that.¡±

    ¡°It would be worth it.¡±

    There was a long silence, a calculative silence, before Corte¡¯s master finally said, ¡°Very well. The squadron will have orders to strictly control their activities. Search and destroy for all confirmed compromises of our secrets¡­ and capture for Braug. I will find out how he freed himself of the Enslavement Collar. Now, let us finish our breakfast, we have a busy day ahead of us.¡±

    Hearing the resolution of the discussion, Corte left his position immediately in order to fetch the private healer his master employed, and paid well, to keep the unexplained bruises and broken bones hidden from all the rest of the world. It seemed that Corte¡¯s masters were in need of the healer¡¯s services before they appeared in public today.

    And it was a Butler¡¯s duty to anticipate his employer¡¯s every need.

    * * * * *

    The great doors of the western parade ground of Terranos, the fortified capital of Fulchas, opened under the weight and effort of two soldiers per door. Out through the great doors rode the assembled eighty knights of the Seventh Knight Squadron upon their furry, fanged, and war trained mounts in as organized a trot as the wild nature of the beasts allowed. The way before the knights was cleared by dashing heralds, calling out for all streets to be cleared of traffic so as not to hinder the Holy Military of Fulchas.

    Only the bravest or slowest of citizens remained on the sidewalks to gaze upon the mounted knights, while all the rest peered from the safety of curtained windows at the advancing unit known as ¡°The Brute Squad¡± to all the kingdom¡¯s people. A knight squadron that exclusively used heavy maces and axes instead of lances and swords. A squadron most well known for their work clearing labyrinths and mercilessly crushing monsters, heretics, and bandits that made their fortifications in burrows and other tight conditions. A squadron that had no room for spell casters, and believed only in crushing their enemies with ferocious might.

    At the head of those eighty knights was the mounted form of their commander, Mur the Unrelenting. Mur¡¯s body was covered from head to toe in dim steel armor that, despite its enormous weight, seemed no more bothersome to the rider than a heavy winter jacket. The form of Mur was a shade under six feet in height, but the dignity and underlying power of the captain made him appear larger and infinitely more stalwart. No onlooker would believe that Captain Mur was a mere twenty years old, or that he came to his position at the age of fifteen. An appointment that was timed with the purge of the reclaimed lands beyond the Four Brothers, which the Seventh Knight Squadron spearheaded. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the success of the entire campaign was due to the brutal charisma and ruthless power of Mur himself and the great halberd he carried into battle.

    As Mur and the Brute Squad made their way through Terranos towards the southern gate, a great many of the city¡¯s citizens gazed upon their forms. Some gazed on in terror. Others in envy. And some starry eyed youths with the dreams of joining the ranks of those very knights one day. But underlying all those emotions, all the onlookers shared one feeling in common with each other. A sense of dread and pity for whoever it was that the Brute Squad had been set upon. For when the Brute Squad was set to action, only destruction was left in their wake.

    * * * * *

    Eating tonight''s stew, I mulled over the current situation. ¡°We reach a real city tomorrow, eh?¡±

    ¡°I thought you would be happier,¡± said Daphne to me. ¡°After all, you complained about the smaller towns we passed through more than enough.¡±

    ¡°Because their facilities couldn¡¯t even be called inns or motels! The beds were dirtier than a Cuban outhouse!¡± Really, they were filthy to the point that I gladly chose to sleep in my wagon bed.

    ¡°We would have had a higher risk of insect bites inside those rooms than out here in the wilderness,¡± agreed Aase as she nodded her head.

    Me, Aase, Daphne, and for some reason, Mercy were seated on stools near each other while we finished eating. I had already finished my meal, though I was distracted the entire time. Actually, I might have eaten faster because of the distraction¡­ I should test that out sometime. But the matter at hand was more pressing by far.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t really worried about it in the podunk towns, but now that we¡¯re going to be going through real cities, with proper security, I have no idea how we¡¯re going to explain those leather collars and cuffs everyone is wearing. And that¡¯s on top of the military uniforms. We may as well be advertising the fact that I¡¯ve enslaved a squad of soldiers.¡±

    ¡°Please, who¡¯d notice something like that,¡± said Mercy absently.

    Aase instantly said, nodding her head, ¡°They¡¯d notice. They¡¯d definitely notice.¡±

    It was true, the collars were not as big as they could be, but they were larger than the fashionable chokers from Earth. They were sturdy enough to chain someone up with, but not too big to be covered by an ascot, like Lumpy had. But there was a decided lack of ascots in the camp.

    I sighed heavily. There was nothing I could do about the uniforms, they were the only clothes we had. But it would have really been nice if I could have done something about the chokers and cuffs.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if we can risk tromping our people through the main gates with everyone wearing those collars. The chance of them being recognized as Enslavement Collars is too high,¡± I said to the air.

    Daphne tugged at the collar about her throat lightly and said, ¡°Yeah. It¡¯d be really nice if we could take them off. They start chaffing easily.¡±

    Daphne lightly scratched under her own collar as I stared at it. The leather, the metal, the buckle; really taking a good look at it. Wait a second.

    ¡°Why can¡¯t you just take it off,¡± I asked. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s buckled on, not welded on.¡±

    Daphne looked at me sorrowfully and said, ¡°Every time I try, my head starts hurting until I stop.¡±

    I looked at Mercy and asked, ¡°Is there really no way to remove the collars?¡± Her reply was a noncommittal shrug. Well, that was ambiguous enough to look into. So I called for Dellon Selcote to come over. When he arrived, I said, ¡°Dellon. I hereby give you permission to remove the leather collar and cuffs. Go ahead, take them off.¡±

    Dellon looked surprised, then anxious as he tried the buckles, and then happy when he took the leather accessories off. Hmm. No obvious signs of pain or gruesome death from removing the collar. ¡°Is there a way to check to see if he¡¯s still Enslaved,¡± I asked aloud.

    ¡°Ah, slavery magic is part of Light magic. Let me inspect him,¡± said Mercy. Dellon tried making eyes and a smile at Mercy as she studied him, but I don¡¯t think she noticed. After a few minutes, Mercy said, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have felt it if I wasn¡¯t looking, but I¡¯m pretty sure the curse is still active.¡±

    ...Pretty sure wasn¡¯t good enough.

    ¡°Dellon, slap yourself in the face,¡± I ordered. He did so, looking confused and pained. ¡°Stand on one knee.¡± Dellon stood on one leg. ¡°I said, ¡®on one knee,¡¯ not one leg, buddy.¡± Dellon corrected his stance to get on his knees, then balanced on one of them. ¡°Now cluck like a chicken-dog.¡± Dellon had no idea what to do until I repeated the order. With an almost desperate air, I heard Dellon making a sound kinda like a cluck-woof, while still balancing. ¡°Go punch Callic in the face.¡± Looking horrified, Dellon stammered a request for mercy even as he was moving towards Callic, and then sucker punched the man.

    Needless to say, it took a very short amount of time for Callic to ruin Dellon¡¯s day in return. Okay, my scientific curiosity was satisfied.

    I broke up Callic¡¯s fun, gave Daphne a chance to heal Dellon, and then called the entire camp to order. In a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone I said, ¡°I hereby give every one of you permission to remove your Enslavement collars and cuffs. Except for Mercy. Please have them removed and disposed of before we reach the city tomorrow. The fewer awkward questions we¡¯re asked, the better.¡±

    Everyone did so quickly, and gladly. Many of them laughed aloud in happiness. The entire mood of the camp brightened and everyone seemed to have a palpable feeling of relief

    Everyone except Mercy, who sighed in resignation.

    With this, everything should be as ready as it gets to pass any inquisitive guards tomorrow. Let¡¯s hope my first exposure to Meaorh¡¯s civilization is a positive one.

 Extra Chapter 1

    Extra Chapter 1 takes place after Chapter 10... Or does it?

    <hr>

    <del>In the depths of the forest,</del> The robed visage of a man came upon me immediately after I had finished doing something. I faced the man and said, ¡°I am Xander. Who are you.¡±

    The man who I could not see well enough to determine his gender stepped forwards and said, ¡°I am Lupus Mal, the tragic king of this barren land.¡±

    And truly the land was barren, as all I could see for miles around was trackless wastelands of sand and more sand. How this grim spectar was able to sneak up upon me left me confused and wary.

    ¡°Does such a tragically barren land really need a king,¡± I asked in wary confusion.

    ¡°Once it did. But my tragic greed and lust for power and riches led me to spend my vast fortunes searching for vast power. And there upon I was tragically curse with this tragic fate of mine.¡±

    ¡°Tell me of this tragic curse that you may alliviate yourself of it¡¯s tragedy?¡±

    ¡°I am tragically compelled to kill and destroy everything that enters my former kingdom.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°How tragic,¡± I said.

    ¡°So fight me,¡± said man calling himself Lupus Mal. ¡°And either die tragically, or kill me, to end my tragic fate of tragedy.¡±

    The grim spectar raised his great sword, as large and dark as himself, but in that time I surged forth and punched him so hard my hand went through his empty ribcage, for he was nothing more than bone and cloth. The bones of his skeletal body fell apart, and the hood of the hooded dark warrior king of tragedy fell back, revealing his face. Under the hood was the face of Callic.

    ¡°Callic! You¡¯re the tragic King Lupus Mal!?¡± I called out to his decapitated head.

    ¡°Yes, and I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren¡¯t for a meddling grad student!¡±

    ¡°Bad dog,¡± I admonished. ¡°Bad, bad dog.¡±

    Then I dropped the severed head in the barren sandy wastes of the tragic landscape that Callic ruined, so he might suffer in the place for all eternity. As I turned my back and walked back towards civilization, I could hear Callic say something behind me.

    ¡°Such a tragically tragic tragedy,¡± were his parting words.

    * * * * *

    Okay, reading it over again, this story is absolute crap. I know I was just practicing my handwriting in this otherworldly language I know, but I didn¡¯t think I would produce something¡­ this noxious.

    I quickly folded up the pages and headed towards the nearest fire in the camp to set the pages to flame. I knew I was going for a theme there, but the real tragedy would be if anyone had to suffer reading such garbage.

 Chapter 14: A Dragons Prank

    Okay, I had a cram session just this morning. It shouldn¡¯t be too much of a problem.

    Or at least that¡¯s what I told myself as the wagon train approached the guard checkpoint at the gate to Rogert. From what I was told, the city had a population of about two thousand people inside the walled city, and outlying unwalled villages for farming and suburbia living. There were merchants who made their living just traveling through these suburb areas taking orders and making deliveries. This kind of city set up was apparently the norm for this world, even though there were such things as monsters and beasts running around.

    The reason being, that if there was some kind of attack, the villages would evacuate to the walled cities and the mercenaries hired to act as guards for the villages would move to intercept any aggressors if they¡¯re strong enough to do so. Otherwise they acted as a rear guard to protect the fleeing civilians.

    The reason this was important to me right now, was because the guards at the large gate in the wall were not a part of the Fulchas military structure. Which meant they would have no reason to know who the hell Colonel Lumpy is!

    ¡°Greetings, sir,¡± said the helmeted and dirty armored guard at the gate with an attempt at a proper salute. Wait, am I supposed to salute him back? Let¡¯s not, I dunno how to do a proper salute. The guard dropped his salute and pulled out a pencil from a clipboard. ¡°May I have your name, unit, and orders for the records?¡±

    Record keeping, huh? Time for my acting skills to come out. Say hello to Mr. Drill Sergeant.

    ¡°No, you may not have anything of the like, MAG-GOT!¡±

    Okay, that caught him off guard. Let¡¯s keep this up.

    ¡°Our orders are on a need to know basis, and you do NOT need to know!¡±

    ¡°I! I! Yes, sir! But, um-¡±

    ¡°Spit it out, maggot! There¡¯s no prize for chewing on your own tongue!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t let you in without identifying yourselves...¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that, maggot? I can¡¯t hear you! Speak like you got a pair!¡±

    ¡°You need to identify yourselves, sir!¡±

    ¡°This is the 78th platoon, you writhing little grub! Now get your people the hell outta my way before I put my boot up your ass and wear you like a slipper!¡±

    ¡°I will! I just need your name and rank, sir!¡±

    Oh, shit.

    ¡°My name? You want to know my name!?¡±

    I wanna know it, too. I sincerely doubt that asshole I killed was actually named Colonel Lumpy.

    ¡°I am the colonel in charge of this unit, maggot! I do not need to name myself to a pathetic piece of shit like you! Stand aside before I cook you like a pig at a Bar-B-Q!¡±

    ¡°W-What?¡±

    Oh crap. Do they not have Bar-B-Qs in this world? I think a small part of my soul just died.

    ¡°I said, if you don¡¯t get out of my way, maggot, I¡¯ll light you on fire, and feed your cooked carcass to piss drenched hobos! Do I make myself clear!?¡±

    ¡°I! I! I! I!¡±

    ¡°Say ¡®I¡¯ again, and I will gouge out your eyeballs, and brain fuck the sockets! Get out of my way, maggot!¡±

    ¡°We-we-we can¡¯t sir! Not until you identify yourself!¡±

    The guard¡¯s voice had started going shrill with fright, but he and the other guards at the gate were still doing their duty to block the way. At this rate it¡¯s looking like I¡¯ll have to fight my way in, and that would be all kinds of bad news for me. Crap, I can¡¯t think of a way to get out of this!

    ¡°Colonel Braug, sir,¡± said a voice behind me. Wait, do I know that voice?

    Turning back, I saw, umm, Calico Catgirl. Gina? Right, yeah! Specialist Gina Reese, one of the few names that actually sounded like something you could find back on Earth. She¡¯d moved from her position in the ranks to come here¡­ why?

    ¡°Co-Colonel Braug?!¡± cried the guard, as he stiffened up even more and began shivering.

    Oh, snap. Gina was name dropping! Thank God for those who pick up dropped stage cues.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said, my sincerity slightly showing through the persona I¡¯d adopted, ¡°Thank you, but no, Specialist! I¡¯d rather tear this maggot¡¯s throat out with my own teeth, if it comes to it!¡± I turned back to the clipboard guard and kept up my drill sergeant shout. ¡°Yes, my damn name is Braug, and I am the Colonel in charge of this platoon! Now, is that enough for you, or am I gonna have to blow you into tiny pieces and use you as fish bait! Because I could seriously use a nice relaxing day of fishing on a calm and placid lake, you urine soaked piece of shit!¡±

    The guards got out of our way quick enough after that and we entered the city. After getting far enough away from the guard post, I hoarsely whispered, ¡°Thank you¡± to Gina. God I could use a lozenge. Gina replied with a ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± that seemed like it was desperately trying to hold back some laughter.

    * * * * *

    ¡°It¡¯s not a lozenge, but it¡¯s good enough,¡± I said almost to the air as I finished my sip of some honeyed tea. The soldiers were getting the luggage, wagons, and horses squared away while Aase, Daphne, and I were enjoying some refreshments at the cafe near our hotel. For some reason Mercy was here, too, but oh well. Since I¡¯d removed my leather coat and the uniform top, I was getting a refreshing breeze through the short sleeved undershirt as I whiled away the early afternoon with these three ladies.

    God, I was looking forward to the hotel room tonight. It was actually clean. And I had a room to myself. Not to knock sharing a bed with Aase, but I hadn¡¯t had enough privacy to have some ¡°alone time¡± since I landed in this world, uh, Meaorh. As a result, some of my drill sergeant persona¡¯s crankiness wasn¡¯t acting. That, and I was starting to look at the women around me as sexual objects before thinking about them as people, and I didn¡¯t like that. Thinking like some random jock sucked.

    I took a long breath, and worked hard to get the image of the legs of the outdoor cafe¡¯s waitress out of my head from when she bent over to place an order on a table. As I opened my eyes again, I said, ¡°Okay, Daphne, explain the coins to me again. Slowly, this time.¡±

    I seriously needed to get a handle on this world¡¯s currency. Apparently The Faith, their church, had gotten a unified monetary system into place where each coin of each denomination was the same weight of metals, and thus, value, through the nations, even though they all had their own nation¡¯s design. It promoted trade, and made travel easier for everyone. That wasn¡¯t the fucking problem.

    ¡°Okay, this one is one tenth of a Sul. This one is one third of a Sul. This one is three eighths of a Sul. This one is five sevenths of a Sul.¡±

    ¡°Why in the hell does your world have such a mismatched currency system,¡± I protested. ¡°You can¡¯t even make a whole dollar out of the last two coins!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it makes as little sense as the British Pound,¡± said Aase.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to tell you,¡± said Daphne. ¡°That¡¯s just how it¡¯s always been.¡±

    It was just¡­ so damn illogical. It was starting to make my brain hurt with how damn stupid a currency set up it was. ¡°Okay,¡± I said, ¡°Let¡¯s forget that and move on. That one over there is a Sul, the basic unit of currency. How many of those Sul is a silver coin worth?¡±

    ¡°Each silver coin is worth thirty seven Sul.¡±

    More uneven numbers! I never really took a liking to the metric system, but the evenly rounded units had their uses, by God!

    ¡°And each gold coin is worth five silver coins,¡± continued Daphne.

    Huh. That one wasn¡¯t that bad. ¡°So each gold coin is, uh, one fifty¡­ one hundred and eighty five Sul,¡± I counted in my head. ¡°Okay¡­ but even so, it¡¯s needlessly complicated.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°It¡¯s enough to make me never want to go shopping again,¡± complained Aase.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you European, Aase,¡± I asked. ¡°Don¡¯t they have those wacky fractional based currencies over there?¡± It was an honest question, I didn¡¯t know.

    ¡°Hey, we use the Krone. It¡¯s a proper decimal based currency.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so that means you¡¯re, uh¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Norwegian, thank you very much. You said dollar before, does that mean you¡¯re American?¡±

    Aase¡¯s knowledge of world currencies was obviously greater than mine. I affirmed with a, ¡°Yup.¡±

    Aase tilted her head a little and dropped an eyebrow in thought before asking, ¡°Is that why you¡¯re so strange? The fact that you¡¯re American?¡±

    I was quiet for a long moment in consideration before saying, in all sincerity, ¡°I think my problems run deeper than that.¡± Aase hummed consideringly as I returned to the main point of the conversation in my head while mumbling, ¡°Hotel fees¡­ thirty plus occupants¡­ new clothes¡­ yeah. We¡¯re burning through our funds. There¡¯s a lot remaining in gems, but the coins are going fast. I don¡¯t think we can afford to stay in this town for two nights if we want to be able to make it to a city where we can sell those gemstones for a good rate before our physical currency runs out. And even then, there¡¯s no guarantee those additional funds will hold out long either. We¡¯re going to have to find a way to make money as a group on our way to¡­ God, I don¡¯t even know."

    ¡°We could always go to the Holy Capital,¡± suggested Mercy. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯d be just as interested in you as I am.¡±

    I think I cringed somewhere, deep inside my heart. I said, ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m quite ready for that level of attention. Besides¡­ I don¡¯t think I know nearly enough about this world to trust any group or organization.¡±

    ¡°In that case, we don¡¯t know enough to even decide where we should go,¡± said Aase, morosely.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°But at the very least, we should try and get out of this nation as soon as possible. That collar on Colonel Lumpy still has me completely paranoid.¡±

    ¡°In that case we should head towards Arsktun,¡± said Daphne. ¡°It¡¯s the largest city on the border with Fehkaahl, a beastman nation. Their government has been uncooperative with human governments since it¡¯s founding. If we¡¯re running¡­¡± Daphne nibbled her lip a little as some emotion welled up in her, I guess, before continuing on. ¡°If we¡¯re running from the military or anyone strong enough to infiltrate it, a beastman nation is probably our best bet.¡±

    ¡°Is it a trade city,¡± I asked. Daphne nodded her head and I continued, ¡°Then it sounds like we¡¯ve decided our next destination.¡±

    Aase started asking Daphne about Arsktun, it¡¯s trade, shops, and other stuff. My mind wandered as I allowed myself to be alienated from their conversation and I took sweet, sweet refuge inside my own mind, where I could contemplate what kind of idiot had to have been born for soda bottles to get warning labels that said, contents under pressure, may cause eye damage. An unsettled rumbling and massive change in the flow of the crowds milling through the street the outdoor cafe faced grabbed my interest away from soda bottles. Turning to look, I saw someone who definitely stood out.

    He was nearly as tall as me, but his form fitting shirt showed nothing but muscle mass. Over that shirt was a long coat of what seemed like pure white snakeskin. In fact, all of his clothing seemed to be made from that material, with different parts dyed a different color, either for fashion or differentiation. I didn¡¯t know, I didn¡¯t care. Because as flashy as his clothes were, he himself was more so. The guy looked like a movie star, that was how handsome he was, with vertically slit eyes as pale as brushed gunmetal and shoulder length hair of a white nearly as pure as Aase¡¯s. And on his back was a large pure white sword, somewhere between a bastard sword and a claymore, that seemed like it was attached by straps and buckles made from snakeskin and ivory.

    I was entranced by the guy. It was like something straight from an anime had jumped out of a TV and began to walk the earth. It was more thorough and ¡°true¡± a sight than any professional cos-player could have ever achieved. It was so alien. It was so powerful. It was looking directly at me. Now it showed a smirk and-

    KRAK!

    The top and bottom half of the cup of tea I had been drinking shattered on the table as a part of the contents were flash frozen in a horizontal path. How did I know it was a horizontal path? Because there was a slash of icy white across my abdomen at the same height as the tea cup which was on the table. My primal brain told me I¡¯d just been attacked, but not injured. I didn¡¯t know how, I didn¡¯t know why, but I was sure it was the man in white that had done it. I put power into my legs and a combative snarl on my face. I had no weapon except magic, so I lifted my hands into half curled claws, ready to grapple, form a fist, or throw magic at a moment¡¯s notice. I had no idea what I was going to do, or any kind of plan aside from ¡°Defend myself,¡± the surge of adrenaline in my brain precluded any thought beyond that. I just watched the man in white, and waited for what he would do.

    His smirk turned into a good natured smile, and his eyes left mine. He resumed his walk down the street, passed a cowering vendor selling fruit, placed a coin on the wooden railing of the stand, and picked up a piece of produce. Even as the man in white began to leisurely eat his purchase, his stride never broke once. I watched him disappear into the landscape of the city, and my body only relaxed enough for me to flop into my chair once I had confirmed he¡¯d gone.

    God. My hands were trembling from the after effects of the adrenaline.

    ¡°What was that,¡± asked Aase carefully. ¡°What just happened?¡±

    Daphne was wiping beads of sweat off her forehead with her napkin as she replied, ¡°It was a Dragon¡¯s Prank.¡±

    ¡°Are you being literal, or figurative, Daphne,¡± I asked.

    ¡°Both,¡± said Mercy, whose voice was a bit shaky. Seems the event had gotten to her as well. ¡°The Dragon¡¯s Prank is a term born from the fact that dragons, like that man just now, sometimes perform a bit of mischief to entertain themselves.¡±

    ¡°Mischief in their eyes at least,¡± said Daphne in complaint. ¡°For everyone else, it¡¯s the same as their lives being put on the line.¡±

    ¡°And they¡¯re allowed to do that,¡± asked Aase in surprise or outrage. Maybe both.

    Mercy picked up the explanation again. ¡°Yes. Politically and militarily, every dragon is considered a neutral city state. They don¡¯t have any kind of governing body to regulated each other, and they¡¯re so strong that people don¡¯t want to make enemies of them unless they have to. That¡¯s the second meaning to the term, a Dragon¡¯s Prank. Just suffer their self-amusement, and wait for them to leave. Or else.¡±

    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s fucked up,¡± I said as I got to my feet once again. ¡°I need to take a walk. Burn off some of this - I don¡¯t even know what. I saw a church or chapel or something down that way, I think I¡¯ll go look at it¡¯s architecture. You wanna come with?¡±

    ¡°After I finish my tea,¡± said Aase with a strange smile on her face. She may not have been ready to trust her legs yet. Or she didn¡¯t want to risk bumping into the dragon again, since the church was in the same direction the dragon disappeared down. I didn¡¯t push the issue, said my words of departure, and started walking.

    I was about halfway to the church when I realized I didn¡¯t have anything to take notes with and started subconsciously kicking myself. It¡¯s always harder to remember layouts and the like without anything to take note with as- a crash and some screaming.

    My head instantly turned in the direction the sounds came from, the front door of a shop. There was another crash, and then other sounds of breaking. They weren¡¯t letting up.

    As I made a straight line to the shop, a thought flashed through the back of my head, hoping it wasn¡¯t the dragon doing it, because if it was then I was about to get myself killed.

    I pushed by some guy in the moving crowds that stepped in my way and through the shop¡¯s front door. Inside was a middle aged guy with blood coming from his nose on the ground, being tended to by a middle aged woman. Aside from them, the only other people in the shop were two jackasses who were the physical definition of wanna be tough guys. Too much attention to the hair and clothes, not enough to their posture or their choice of words.

    ¡°This is the kinda stuff that ¡®appens when ya don¡¯t keep up with yer security payments!¡±

    Then one of the two doofuses kicked over a shelf full of something, causing the loudest crash yet.

    ¡°Hey, chuckle heads,¡± I unhesitatingly said to the pair. I mean, when you have power, you may as well use it.

    As the two looked over my way, I pantomimed a wild west gunslinger and pulled a double quickdraw with my fingers as I said, ¡°Bang.¡± Each of the doofuses took a solidified air beanbag round to the chest and fell backward. They started struggling to get up right away, so, continuing the gunfighter play, I played like I was fanning the hammer of a revolver in my right hand with the palm of my left, precisely shooting these bozos in the hands, legs, and feet with powered down air bullets. I intended to keep going until they got the point to stay down, but then I felt the impact across my abdomen.

    Somehow, for some reason, I¡¯d taken a hit to my gut. Looking down, I saw it was a counter inside the shop. I was supporting my weight upon it? Hadn¡¯t it hit me? My legs buckled under me and I fell to the floor.

    What was going on? Why was I on the floor?

    The world somehow seemed disjointed. Nothing was making sense.

    And there was an ache in my leg. And a hot line on the back of my head.

    I touched back there, and a lance of pain shot from the hot part of my head. My hand came back into view with a smear of red on it. Was that my blood?

    There was an impact in my side, rolling me over onto my back. Looking up at the ceiling, I tilted my head to get a look at something moving. Wasn¡¯t that the guy who bumped into me just outside the shop? He raised something like a skinny baseball bat, and swung it down. My forehead over my eyebrow shot white hot, and something wet started spreading over the left side of my face.

    It was after that that I was finally able to understand that I was being attacked. I lifted my arms to block this guy¡¯s club and absorbed a few impacts with my forearms. I was probably channeling magic into them because it didn¡¯t feel like the bones were going to break, but if the situation kept up I was gonna lose just because the guy was right over me, swinging a weapon. At about the time I resolved to do something, some guy¡¯s boot came from another direction and hit me over the right eye, causing my head to bounce against the hardwood flooring. This opened the way for the club wielding guy to start getting shots in at my chest.

    I tried to roll away, get to a point where I could get my legs under me and come up swinging, but there was another pair of boots hitting me when I tried to do that. In an instant I had no idea where to go. I didn¡¯t know what to do. My mind was hazy to put it mildly, and some stray neuron fired the idea that I¡¯d probably been concussed by that first hit from behind. This thought happened at about the time I was being dragged outside the shop by these three goons.

    I was pulled into the dirt street. I think I tried to grab onto something at some point, but my fingers probably didn¡¯t have any strength in them, or any dexterity. Which is it when you can¡¯t move how you want to?

    The air exploded out of my lungs as a boot came down on me. Then more boots. There was a thudding thunk at some point as the broken end of the club was dropped beside my head. Once again, I was rolling around, trying to find a way out. I was pushing magic power around my body, probably at random, but enough to keep me conscious and at least attempting to move. No matter what, I wasn¡¯t giving up. Then there was the full tread of a boot covering my field of vision, and everything went dark.

 Chapter 15: Daphne

    Being Enslaved was really awkward. I mean, it¡¯s not like I didn¡¯t want to go along with Xander¡¯s invitation to join him at the church, but was it my own will or me bending to the suggestion of an order? It just felt weird, second guessing my own intentions. But either way, there I was, walking down the street with Aase and Mercedes.

    It was one of the side street thoroughfares. Well traveled enough for there to be shops with, oh, that thing in the window is cute. But nothing really nice, meant to get the attention of traveling merchants or the like. Just a mid-sized town¡¯s market avenue, trying to entice people¡¯s wallets on their way to the church. Not doing a very good job of it judging by how beat up the exteriors were, though. And not all that much foot traffic today, except for a knot of people.

    Huh. It¡¯s almost like they¡¯re gathered around, gawking at something¡­

    People were breaking off, with new people joining in, so I wasn¡¯t able to see what was on the ground before the three of us were within eavesdropping distance of the people.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t hear? He got in the way of some of Nigeman¡¯s group.¡±

    ¡°No helping him then. You¡¯d think people¡¯d learn.¡±

    Huh? Sounded strangely like¡­ Oh, I hoped I was wrong.

    ¡°Pardon me,¡± I said to the crowd, trying to push through without jostling anyone. ¡°I¡¯m a Healer, could you let me through, please?¡±

    I heard an exasperated chuckle from Aase behind me as she moved ahead of me and started pushing people out of my way. I was a moment away from thanking Aase when she cried, ¡°Xander!¡± and dove forward. I used the hole Aase left behind to dive in after her.

    ¡°Oh, Goddess,¡± I whispered.

    I took in Xander¡¯s entire body in one expertly trained glance as it lay there on its back, and it was horrible. Xander¡¯s face was covered in a mixture of dirt and his own blood, with discolored dirt pooled around his head. Xander¡¯s face was nearly unrecognizable, his nose was smashed flat and his jaw was obviously broken in at least two places. There also seemed to be dents in his skull. There was a lack of blood around the rest of Xander¡¯s body, but there was extremely heavy bruising present on his arms, defensive wounds which may indicate bone fractures or clean breaks, and boot prints all over the torso, which could mean a dozen different extremely dangerous types of injuries to the internals.

    But those could wait, the head and spine came first.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch him,¡± I snapped at Aase as she was dropping to probably try and shake Xander awake. I¡¯ll apologise to her for it later. ¡°We can¡¯t move him until I have him stabilized, so just hang back for a bit.¡±

    Aase stammered something about a stretcher as I got down on my knees over Xander and pulled out my gloves for treatment. First thing to do was to sense the condition of the spinal column, because any damage there would be the most difficult to heal. I touched Xander¡¯s neck lightly to make physical contact for the sensing, and the quartz diagram on the back of my gloves instantly overloaded and shattered.

    ¡°Oh, no,¡± I mumbled to myself. I looked around, startled, panicked to make sure no one heard that, especially Aase. The fastest way to a medical disaster was if people thought there''s something wrong with the healer. It¡¯s why we have to pretend to be in control at all times. Thankfully Aase was haranguing the nearby people to bring a door, but none of them looked like they were going to cooperate. Okay, while Aase¡¯s still distracted, let¡¯s pretend things were still fine.

    I made physical contact with Xander again, and focused more than I would normally have needed to to check the condition of the spine. No apparent damage. Well, at least that¡¯s some good news.

    ¡°What can I do to help,¡± asked Aase, who got on her knees on the opposite side of Xander. Aase was probably emotionally torn up, I could see worry, fear, and probably some anger in her, but she was still instantly looking for a way to help the situation. Haaa, I really wish I could be that capable.

    ¡°Please stay on standby, I¡¯m still diagnosing,¡± I replied, trying to sound firm.

    I moved to the skull next. Normally I¡¯d be able to sense the entire head with a single scan, but without a working pair of healing gloves everything was more difficult, more time consuming, and required more magic for every act. But the expenditure was worth it, as I got a good look at the damage to the skull.

    ¡°Oh, Goddess,¡± I muttered absently. Six breaks, and a seventh where the bone splintered. There would definitely be secondary damage there. I instantly focus on the worst break and it¡¯s surroundings, focusing my eyes there as though I could see through the blood matted hair of Xander¡¯s head. In a way, I could, and I always regreted doing so. I could see/feel/know the damage the splintered bone had done. The shards that had lacerated the skin from below to pool blood under the surface to create pressure which deformed the flesh and formed the bruising patterns only I could see. Worse were the shards that had penetrated downward, cutting into Xander¡¯s grey matter. I had to push my magic into each individual shard and guide them back out from the brain, back into place under the scalp. It felt like an eternity, and I could already feel sweat beading on my forehead. I¡¯d gotten down to the last shard when Xander hacked up some foaming blood and began shuddering, his hands twitching like they were trying to grab onto something.

    ¡°Hold him down,¡± I told Aase without looking at her. ¡°By the shoulders, I need him steady!¡±

    I took a harder grip of Xander¡¯s head to keep it from flailing while I finished the task. But it felt like the shard was hooked into something. I really didn¡¯t want to think what it was, but I had to sense it, find that one point, and then pushed against it with my magic to get the splinter free without tearing. When I did, Xander¡¯s eyes fluttered, and there was blood pooled in his left eye beneath the swollen bruises. His eyes were unfocused, but they somehow moved around, almost like Xander was taking stock of his surroundings, and then they looked at me.

    The splinter came free and I pushed it back into place with my magic; Xander¡¯s eyelids snapped shut again. I exhaled a shuddering breath, taking note that Xander was no longer convulsing as I did so and used my magic to re-fuse that part of the skull back together. It was a costly expenditure of my magic, but I couldn¡¯t let the bone penetrate the brain again. Speaking of, I used more magic to treat the brain matter under the break, making sure that the damage was reversed and there would be no lasting effects.

    Oh, Goddess, please let there be no lasting effects. I¡¯d die of misery if I was the cause of someone¡¯s lasting brain damage.

    With that done I did some pinpoint scans of the brain under the other cracks in the skull. I couldn¡¯t feel any more brain damage, short of low level bruising. If Xander took it easy over the next few days without undue stress, that much damage would just heal itself. One last check, and then I¡¯d move on from the skull. I wasn¡¯t happy with the other cracks, but I had to choose my battles, at least until I¡¯d finished with the full work up. I lightly turned Xander¡¯s head out of some misguided muscle memory, thinking I needed to actually see the injury site with my eyes to see it with magic. When I did, a trickle of blood flowed out from Xander¡¯s ear.

    ¡°Intracranial hemorrhage,¡± I said to myself, horrified.

    Aase said something, or asked something, but I couldn¡¯t listen. I refocused myself to sense blood and blood vessels. Feeling the flow of blood was harder than sensing tissue, because tissue wasn¡¯t in constant motion. It took time and effort to find pockets of blood that were pooling, that weren¡¯t going where it should. It took even more time to trace that blood back to the vessel it leaked from. Time and magic, both of which I was running short of.

    After I heard another of Xander¡¯s coughs, expelling foamy blood from his mouth, I found the ruptured vessel. The fix was easy and fast, with very little expense of magic. The clean up was going to be the hard part. I didn¡¯t have any tools, especially not a drill. I couldn¡¯t tap the skull to relieve the pressure of the blood, and leaving it there to slowly dribble out into the ear canal was not an option.

    ¡°No way around it,¡± I muttered. Aase asked what I was talking about, but I couldn¡¯t spare the time to respond, I¡¯d have to apologize later.

    I refocused, and let the world around me fall away. There was nothing to me but myself and the accumulated blood in Xander¡¯s head. I dug deep inside myself, inside my magic reservoir, and my magic moved. It felt like I was radiating light, and I probably was, as I moved the massive amount of magic I needed in order to perform the procedure. I enwrapped and infused the blood with my magic as I formed the spell. And starting from the edges of the pool, encroached upon it more and more. The physical nature of the blood was changed. The blood was no longer a fluid liquid under pressure, I forced it to become an intangible gas that could flow through solid structures without sticking to or harming them in any way. I could see it happen, the blood shining like a ruby and breaking away in a crimson steam, lifting up and being caught by the wind, to be swept away to the far corners of the world. When the last of the hemorrhaged blood dispersed, I let the world flow back into my consciousness again, and sagged a bit, drained magically and physically from the process.

    In any normal triage center, this would be the time when healers would switch places, giving the exhausted healer a chance to rest while the fresh one took on the rest of the operation. But I didn¡¯t have that luxury. There was still more to do.

    More slowly, almost sluggishly, I looked over Xander¡¯s head again. The bleeding from the cuts were not serious enough to require immediate healing, and as long as treatment was administered within the next forty eight hours, there should be no scarring. The nose was worrisome, it had been nearly flattened and still had some blood trickling from it, but on the list of priorities, it was still low. The jaw, too, was worrisome, but the torso was much more important.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    I started with a scan of the rib cage and the collarbone. There was no damage to the collarbone, but the ribcage was heavily abused by whatever happened. Breaks and fractures everywhere, but oddly, none of the ribs had punctured anything important. Thank the Goddess for that at least, but how did it happen?

    Maybe it was a subliminal plea from my body for me to take it easy on my magic reservoir, but I spent a little time analyzing Xander¡¯s condition instead of moving onto the next scan right away. Almost with a start, I noticed that the footprints on Xander¡¯s shirt were almost equally spaced out. Whoever did that to Xander, it seemed like instead of focusing their assault on individual locations, they aimed at places they hadn¡¯t kicked yet. Maybe it was an unconscious act, striking at the parts of Xander¡¯s white shirt that had not yet been dirtied by their boots. Whatever it was, it thankfully spread the damage out instead of accumulating it to a positively fatal degree. And as long as it wasn''t fatal, I could work with it.

    Xander hacked up some more foamy blood from his mouth.

    Ah! Tissue scans!

    I had to make sure the organs were not too damaged. Accumulated soft tissue damage could cause major organs to rupture and go septic. If that happened, treatment would turn into a war of attrition that I would almost certainly lose. I had to catch those problems before they spread!

    Xander hacked up some more foamy blood before I¡¯d finished. Being without my gloves was causing the process to be more difficult and time consuming than I¡¯d feared it would be. But the internal damage to the organs was only minimal to moderate, all within acceptable treatment measures. They would hurt like hell, but that was what painkillers were for.

    Xander coughed up more foamy blood, and then more. The frequency was increasing?

    ¡°That¡¯s not right,¡± I said to myself. I shouldn¡¯t have of course, I was tired, and Aase audibly became worried. But it wasn¡¯t right. There were no ruptures or punctures in the lungs. But if Xander kept coughing like that, there was a very real danger that his lung spasms would cause a rib to puncture them. I had to find out where the blood was coming from, quickly. But my magic reservoir was going dry, fast. I didn¡¯t have enough to do a thorough scan of the windpipe to find the leak, I was going to have to make some educated guesses.

    Using only my eyes this time, I couldn¡¯t spare the magic to scan, I trailed up from Xander¡¯s chest, which I knew was not causing the problem. There was no indication of damage on the throat, and the first scans of the spine showed no damage. If Xander had been struck in the windpipe, there would be indications. No, moving on.

    The jaw was next. The jaw was obviously broken, meaning there was a high likelihood that there were further wounds in the mouth caused by the break that were leaking blood into the airways. I unhesitatingly placed my fingers on the jaw, and started guiding the bone back into place, and fused the materials together. I couldn¡¯t spare the magic for a full re-fusing like I had with the skull before, but I bonded the jaw together in a way that there shouldn¡¯t be any long term complications if Xander takes it easy. I can of course come back later for full treatment after I¡¯d finished healing the ribcage, but that might take a while. Hopefully this will take care of the problem.

    Xander hacked up another batch of foaming blood.

    Okay, I¡¯ll admit, I was panicking a little bit now. My reservoir was nearly dry, and I still hadn¡¯t fixed it! I can¡¯t lose this patient, not after all this! What was left was- the broken nose!

    I bent down, directly into Xander¡¯s face and looked fiercely into the nostrils of Xander¡¯s broken nose. I couldn¡¯t hear any air moving through the nostrils, but with a broken nose that didn¡¯t really mean much. The secondary swelling from a break could entirely shut the pathway. But then again-

    I looked hard at the blood stains on Xander¡¯s face. Some of them had definitely come from the nose, and not all of the blood there was dry. I tentatively lifted Xander¡¯s head forward, and a drop of fresh blood leaked out onto the upper lips.

    Good enough for me.

    I dug for the last of my magic, and put it into Xander¡¯s nose. The cartilage of a nose was far easier to heal than bone, probably because it''s so much less dense, so I was able to reform the entire nose in one go. Xander¡¯s nose swelled back into shape like a slowly filled water bladder. For some reason, I made 100% sure that the nose wasn¡¯t bent or crooked as I fused the broken cartilage back together. Well, I mean, it¡¯s a nice nose. If I could make sure it¡¯s not ruined, I would. Besides, it wasn¡¯t a waste of my magic at all, as the secondary effect of the spell infused the soft tissues and healed the damage to a healthy extent. With this, Xander should be in the clear.

    Xander suddenly convulsed, hacking and coughing.

    ¡°What,¡± I cried aloud. I couldn¡¯t help it! It happened so quick, the very moment I finished healing the nose! Was it connected? It had to be connected! I healed the soft tissue that was swollen and bleeding- swollen?

    Oh, Goddess! I removed the swelling that had held back a pocket of blood, and it all drained right into Xander¡¯s airway!

    Xander was convulsing more rapidly now! If I couldn¡¯t stop it, then he¡¯d definitely puncture his lungs! I had to get the blood out of his system! But how?! I couldn¡¯t turn him on his side, not with those ribs. I didn¡¯t have any tools to intubate him with. I didn¡¯t have any magic to remove the blood with. Was I just going to have to watch Xander die?!

    ¡°What¡¯s happening, Daphne? What¡¯s happening?¡±

    The insistent plies of Aase grabbed my attention and I found myself looking wonderingly into her fearful, panicking face. Then my numbed mind had the idea. If it was her then¡­

    ¡°Aase,¡± I said, taking her hand. ¡°Can you give some of your magic to me?¡±

    ¡°What? How?¡±

    Aase was confused by the question? That wasn''t good.

    ¡°Xander did it once before, when I was low on magic. He just, he kinda put his hand on my shoulder and put his magic into me. Can you try that? Take my hand and just give it a try, please?¡±

    Aase did a sort of triple take, from me, to my hand, to Xander, to me, and then took my hand.

    ¡°Okay, what do I do now,¡± asked Aase.

    ¡°You¡¯re asking me? I dunno. Just, try?¡±

    Aase nodded her head, closed her eyes, and her face looked like she was trying very hard. And from my hand came¡­ nothing. I didn¡¯t feel anything like I did that time with Xander. ¡°Are you trying,¡± I asked, even knowing I shouldn¡¯t.

    ¡°Yes,¡± exploded Aase. ¡°I¡¯m trying! But I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m suppose to be doing! Don¡¯t you have any tips or study notes or anything?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I sincerely apologized. ¡°It was a long shot, I guess. A- a shortcut.¡±

    Oh, Goddess. Xander¡¯s going to die. There was nothing left I could do. I couldn¡¯t magic the blood away, intubate, move him, or anything. The last thing I could try, that¡¯s even more of a long shot, is trying to keep his lungs filled to try and slow the rate of coughing. Oh, Goddess, please, I needed a miracle at this point.

    I used my already blood stained sleeve to wipe the fresh blood away from Xander¡¯s mouth, pinched his freshly healed nose shut, and gently pressed his chin to open his mouth wider. Then I sealed his mouth with mine and blew. Xander shuddered and coughed again. I pulled away before any could spray into my own mouth, but I spat anyway to be sure.

    ...Was that my imagination?

    Next breath, next breath!

    I sealed Xander¡¯s mouth with my own again, and breathed. Xander coughed again, but¡­ I felt it. I definitely felt it. I pulled back to keep the bloody phlegm from striking me, but this time¡­ I was sure I felt that same sensation when Xander transferred his magic to me. I was feeling it from making contact with his mouth? Every other part of him I¡¯d touched didn¡¯t have anything like that feeling. Was it because it was the mouth? Because it was technically the inside of his body? Did magic work like that? Did it work like that this time only because it was Xander, with that massive amount of magic he had? You know what? Questions for later!

    I sealed Xander¡¯s mouth again, but this time I didn¡¯t pinch the nose shut first. This wasn¡¯t medical treatment, it was a kiss. It was a pressured, blood tasting, nasty circumstanced kiss, where, against my best judgement, I inserted my tongue into Xander¡¯s mouth to maximize my contact with him. And just as I was expecting, I was feeling that same sensation leeching into me from that time Xander had purposely transferred his magic.

    My Aunt Cressida was the one who taught me magic, and one of the things she taught me was that magic was as unique as the person who used it. Different people could be trained to produce the same magical effects, but there would always be subtle variations based on the minds and personalities of the people who cast that magic. Aunt Cressida said that she thought that a person¡¯s magic power itself was influenced like that as well. I had completely discounted my Aunt¡¯s stories since those days. That was why I had thought I had just imagined that feeling the first time, that what I¡¯d felt from the man that has just beaten a room full of people into submission was wrong. But now, feeling it from this horrible kiss a second time, I knew it was true.

    As Xander¡¯s magic leaked into me from the kiss, I could only describe it as being a ferociously gentle kindness.

    ...I can¡¯t let the person with that kind of magic die!

    I pulled away from Xander¡¯s mouth and, pausing only a fraction of a second to check my reservoir, I refocused my senses on Xander¡¯s windpipe, on the blood inside it. I let the world fall away. The ground beneath my knees, the crowd milling about me, the outraged ejaculations coming from Aase¡¯s mouth. I pulled every last drop of magic from my body, concentrating it on the invasive blood that was choking Xander. Almost instantly, I knew there was not enough magic left in me to make the blood completely intangible. So instead I made is gaseous, a little at a time, and pulled it up and out through Xander¡¯s mouth and nostrils. It might have been my imagination, but I think I heard Xander releasing a refreshed sigh as the vaporized blood left his throat.

    This time the world didn¡¯t creep back into focus after I¡¯d finished. It twisted and lurched back, throwing me off balance. I was starting to fall forward, to land on Xander, but Aase grabbed and held me up by the shoulders, supporting me. In my diminished awareness, I looked down and saw that Xander was breathing without troubles, though he still had a look on his face as though he was in pain. For now, that was enough. I had pain killers in the medical wagon I could administer later.

    Aase eased me back until I was sitting on the dirt road instead of kneeling on it, and a minute later Mercedes arrived directing two soldiers from the platoon who were carrying a door from the inn between them. Aase said that she¡¯d had to shake Mercedes out of a stupor to go fetch them after all the people around us had ignored her.

    ¡°Good thinking, Aase. I¡¯m glad you thought that far ahead,¡± I said, before turning to the two privates from the 78th platoon. ¡°Put the door down right here. Kyl, lift the legs by the thighs. Zent, lift him by the shoulders. I¡¯ll support the head. On three. One. Two. Three! Alright, let¡¯s get him back to the inn and in a bed.¡±

    As we were all leaving the street where Xander had been left for dead, I turned to look behind us, at the people milling about. None of them seemed relieved to see that a man had been saved. They all just seemed annoyed and bored.

 Extra Chapter 2

    <del></del>Extra Chapter 2 takes place after Chapter 15¡­ Or does it?

    <hr>

    Xander: Hello everyone, and welcome to the first Question and Answer chapter of the Stop Calling Me A Demon King story. I¡¯m one of your hosts for this event. I hope you all recognize me as the protagonist of the story, Xander.

    Aase: I¡¯ll be a co-host and commentator, Aase.

    Daphne: And I¡¯m another co-host, Daphne. Nice to met you all.

    Mercedes: My name is Mercedes, and I will be reading the questions that the readers have submitted, as well as offering technical explanations as they are required. The first question I will be submitting to our panel of hosts is not one submitted by the readers, but one that needs to be addressed in any case.

    Q: Why and how are the story characters answering the questions? Shouldn¡¯t the author be doing that?

    Mercedes: Well, the four of us are currently in a null space not connected to reality, and thus our connection to-

    Xander: Mercy! Stop talking!

    Mercedes: Awww¡­

    Xander: In layman''s terms, we¡¯re currently outside of continuity, with full knowledge of who we are and what we are in the core story. The author, BakaGrappler, decided that he preferred letting us, the cast and crew of Stop Calling Me A Demon King, handle the questions instead of answering them himself.

    Daphne: Just so you know, we won¡¯t remember what happens here in the Non-Continuity space once we return to our regular story. I hope you¡¯re not too disappointed, everyone.

    Aase: As for the why, I can only assume that the author didn¡¯t want to put the effort into answering the questions himself.

    Daphne: Aase, stop that!

    Aase: Well, why else would he push this work onto us?

    Xander: We should probably get to the first real question now¡­

    Q: Okay, MC is weaker than I thought he would be? ~ohmariowv

    Xander: Hey, screw you! You try getting hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat! See if you can walk that off! That¡¯s not even a valid question! Mario wasn¡¯t trying to submit it for the Q&A, Mercy!

    Mercedes: A lot of people were confused and curious about how you got beaten up so badly, Xander. I think that makes it valid. It also had a question mark at the end, so by definition it is a question.

    Xander: *grumbles incoherently*

    Daphne: Well, that first blow that Xander received struck him not only while he was not actively using body enhancement magic, but it cracked the skull and caused a significant concussion. Xander was lucky he didn¡¯t black out immediately from the shock to his brain. As I¡¯m sure many of you know, a concussion will hamper a person¡¯s ability to move, think, and causes a large list of side effects, such as loss of balance and nausea.

    Aase: Basically, Xander was in no condition to protect himself after getting hit like that. So please don¡¯t judge him too quickly.

    Xander: There was also the fact that the guy ambushed me. I mean, the hits you¡¯re not expecting are the ones that hurt you the most. And for those people who have read too many stories about people getting combat and status menus when they travel to other worlds; I¡¯M NOT SOME GAME CHARACTER! I¡¯m made of flesh and blood, not HP. The basic rules of biology still apply to me, alright. One mistake in a fight, and I¡¯ll die like any other man. ...Not that I intend too¡­

    Hey, Daphne, how¡¯s my condition in the core story?

    Daphne: Stable and likely to make a full recovery. So don¡¯t worry about it too much.

    Xander: Okay, thanks. But I¡¯m really not looking forward to going back to being heavily injured.

    Mercedes: And on that note, our next question is¡­

    Q: Is Xander¡¯s modified body the type that gets stronger after it has been beaten to within a quarter inch of death, or something else? ~Random Internet User ?

    Xander: God, I hope not! I don¡¯t want to go through something like that again!

    Aase: It¡¯s okay, Xander. Nothing like that¡¯ll happen again. We won¡¯t let it.

    Daphne: Ahem. Um, the answer is no. I¡¯m not sure about everything that¡¯s happening to Xander and Aase¡¯s body, but I can tell you that their basic biology is still the same. If their bodily functions are going to improve, it¡¯ll be through their use of body reinforcement magic, not some literary technique to cause a shortcut to increased combat strength.

    Xander: Yeah. My hair turned black, not gold. I¡¯m not some frikkin¡¯ super Saiyan.

    Mercedes: And using that as another segway¡­

    Q: What¡¯s up with Aase¡¯s hair turning more white while MC¡¯s is turning more black? Is it like Yin and Yang? ~ohmariowv

    Chaz: Dramatic license, mostly.

    All: Gah!

    Xander: Who the hell are you?!

    Chaz: I¡¯m the humanoid personification of the ambient forces of energy that form the curtain between dimensions that is known as the nearly impenetrable energies of Chaos that Xander and Aase passed through when they were summoned. I¡¯m known by many names; Loki, Cthulu, Mindflayer, The Devourer, and many others that are even less pleasant. But I prefer Chaz.

    Aase: Why Chaz?

    Chaz: Because it¡¯s like the word Chaos, but with a Z. Anyway, the raw energies that form me are also the raw energies of magic itself. And since I don¡¯t like doing things by half measures when I have the chance, I decided to allow your bodies to be spruced up a little once you¡¯d collected enough ambient magical power in your selves that correspond to your personalities and emerging magic abilities.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Xander: So you¡¯re saying our mutations are based on our individual characteristics?

    Chaz: Yup.

    Aase: And my hair turned white because¡­

    Chaz: You have Ice and Snow magic. Snow is white, and you were already a blond. It fit.

    Xander: And my black hair?

    Chaz: Because black is more dramatic than brown. Seriously, your hair was boring as all hell. You should thank me for changing it.

    Xander: I¡¯m not thanking you for anything! You don¡¯t actually exist, anyways! Get out of here!

    Daphne: We¡¯re actually not In Continuity¡­ so maybe he can exist here¡­?

    Chaz: Q: What other changes/mutations will Xander and Aase go through? ~Wizard Classic

    Mercedes: Hey! That¡¯s my job!

    Xander: Yeah, get out of here you!

    Chaz: Okay, fine, I¡¯ll leave.

    Xander: Good riddance!

    Aase: Maybe we should have let him answer that one first, though? About what other mutations we¡¯ll experience?

    Xander: Shit. Hey, Chaz! ...Where¡¯d he go? Crap. Um¡­ We¡¯ll get¡­ uh¡­

    Aase: Maybe we¡¯ll get colored fingernails? Like human shaped monsters in the movies do?

    Daphne: I can¡¯t say you won¡¯t.

    Mercedes: Something like that is actually very probable, as one of the more common mutations of Beasts and Monsters is the accumulation of magic in the materials that form ivory, bones, claws, and fangs to make them more sturdy, and useful in battle. Dragon parts being the most famous amongst these kinds of examples.

    Xander: Mercy, next question, please.

    Q: Then what martial art does Xander practice? I remember you said it was a Chinese martial art. And based on a quick internet search is it Northern Shaolin kung fu? ~Wizard Classic

    Aase: And we¡¯re back to questions about you getting into fights.

    Xander: At least it¡¯s not about me getting beaten on. So, yeah, I know and used martial arts. It¡¯s a little bit of a hodgepodge of styles, really. My main base is Seven Star Praying Mantis Kung Fu. That covers my footwork and striking style, along with my weapon preferences, since I was tall from a young age, I was taught according to my strengths. My instructor mixed in northern Chinese body strikes because your average American is a lot taller than your average Chinese and could use them more effectively. Finally, my father taught me some Tae Kwon Do and some Aikido he¡¯d learned for his job as a police officer. If people are wondering why a geek like me would learn so much about fighting, it¡¯s because of my father¡¯s philosophy. It would take a while to explain, but the short version is, ¡°Bad people are naturally good at hurting good people. Good people need to learn to fight back against bad people.¡±

    Q: What martial art does Aase practice? ~Wizard Classic

    Aase: What!? When have I ever said I knew kung fu?!

    Daphne: I, I don¡¯t know. You don¡¯t know any?

    Aase: None at all.

    Mercedes: Maybe Wizard is misunderstanding my summoning circle. The fact that it''s been programmed to find people that won¡¯t be overly sensitive to the idea of killing people could have been misconstrued to mean someone with the pre-existing skill set to take other people¡¯s lives? Sorry if that was misunderstood, but the search parameters only involve moral compasses and not life experiences.

    Xander: Actually, maybe it¡¯s because I mentioned that Aase has ¡°Girl Guns.¡±

    Aase: Hmm?

    Xander: Well, Aase, uh¡­ Okay, I¡¯ll dive right in. Aase, you have a really well defined body. You have some great muscles in your arms, and you¡¯ve got tight legs. You have the body of an athlete, basically.

    Aase: Hm-hmm. I also have six pack abs.

    Xander: Really? Can I see?

    Aase: If you¡¯re lucky. Well, there¡¯s a few reasons why I¡¯ve got such a ¡°well defined body.¡± For one, I¡¯m Norwegian, so I¡¯m of Norse descent. I¡¯m predisposed to developing muscle. I also like looking good in a party dress, so I put a bit of effort into staying in shape. But most of all, I have a title to maintain in the yearly games.

    Xander: In the what now?

    Aase: I suppose the name would translate to something like ¡°Viking Ancestor Competitions,¡± for you, but it¡¯s a set of yearly games my home town has in the summer of every year. The entire city turns out for it, with all the games, prizes, costumes, and competitions. I¡¯m the defending champion of the young women¡¯s log chopping competition two years running.

    Daphne: You look really proud of that.

    Aase: Well, I¡¯d like to be humble, but I spent a long time training to swing an axe in each hand. You pretty much have to in order to even be able to compete in the contest, let alone win.

    Xander: That¡¯s why you own multiple axes! Oh, thank God!

    Aase: Why are you so relieved, Xander? ...Why did you think I owned more than one axe?

    Xander: Uh. Uuuuh. Next question!

    Q: Do you plan to create a glossary about the world info (beasts, monsters, herald, nations, geography)? ~vanagandr

    Mercedes: I actually have an answer to this question written by the author himself. Let me just unseal this envelope. Let¡¯s see. It says, ¡°Damnnit, Jim, I¡¯m a Writer, not an Illustrator.¡±

    Xander: I guess that¡¯s a no, then.

    Mercedes: But it continues on to say, ¡°My brother, on the other hand, is a skilled artist. And there are a great many people on the internet who may volunteer their time and abilities. So, I don¡¯t know what may happen artistically for the story. And a general index of important information will likely occur on it''s own, so I can keep info I need for writing handy to refresh my memory some times.¡±

    Q: Are you planning to put others into the ¡°cast page¡± like the undead counts, the religious guys, the underground ppl and so on? ~vanagandr

    Mercedes: The letter continues on the back to say, ¡°Yeah, I will. But not until there¡¯s non-spoiler material to share, so be patient.¡±

    Q: Will we see a drawn map of Meowrh? ~SaMu

    Xander: That kinda continues on from the glossary questions, huh? Well, since the author is making up the geography as he goes, any maps would be local in scale, and slowly increasing as land masses get placed. He apparently has a broad landscape design in place, but I doubt he wants to pen himself into a corner by releasing maps that would cement the world before he can get around to writing about it.

    Q: I see a few parallels to warhammer: undead counts, brute squad (knights on bumpy animals [could be Demigriphs]) is that unconscious or planed? (I don¡¯t know much about warhammer) ~vanagandr

    Mercedes: Oh, here''s another letter from the author. For some reason it is made from cut out magazine and newspaper clippings, and stained in some red substance¡­

    Aase: They kinda look like tears of blood¡­

    Mercedes: It says, ¡°Dear Games Workshop, I have not, nor ever plan to copy or steal your Intellectual Property. Please do not try to find me, I have wired the doors of my bunker to explode.¡±

    Xander: So I guess that¡¯s a no, then.

    Aase: So, any similarities between the two fictional worlds is coincidental, I suppose.

    Daphne: And besides, knights don¡¯t ride on bumpy and misshapen creatures. They ride on-

    Xander: Hold it! The author is obviously unbalanced right now because of this law suit scare! Don¡¯t go dropping spoilers, it might push him over the edge! ...Even further over the edge.

    Aase: But we should probably mention that whatever the readers think is the deal with the ¡°Counts¡± as our reader put it, it¡¯s not that. The author is genuinely expecting people to be surprised by the reveal of those characters¡¯ backgrounds.

    Daphne: And that was the last question for this session.

    Xander: Alright, now we can go back to Continuity¡­ where I¡¯m half dead and in a coma¡­ Are you sure we¡¯re done here...?

    Aase: Oh, come now Xander. We have to continue the story some time. May as well get back on track.

    Daphne: Thank you all for reading and for submitting your questions! The Question and Answer event will return again in the future, so please submit your questions either in the comments section of this chapter, or any chapter as the story proceeds from here on out. Please don¡¯t post in old chapters, though, as they might not be noticed by the author if you do.

 Chapter 16: Amethyst

    Callic said to me, ¡°You know, Daphne, I¡¯d have preferred if you¡¯d have let Xander die.¡±

    The rest of the table at the restaurant part of the Hollowed Log, the inn we were staying at, went quiet. Not because people were chewing their dinner, but because it felt like the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped. I lowered the fork with the fresh greens on it back to the plate, my appetite having suddenly soured and carefully asked, ¡°Why do you say that?¡±

    ¡°Cause he deserves it,¡± was the quick reply.

    ¡°I dunno,¡± said Dellon who was across from Callic, but seated on my left at the rounded table that could seat four. ¡°I mean, he¡¯s kind of a bastard, but I wouldn¡¯t say he deserved to die, really.¡±

    ¡°Even after he made you walk barefoot that first day,¡± asked Iyleen, seated across from me and between Callic and Dellon.

    ¡°Hey, I messed up, I got caught. Shit happens,¡± dismissed Dellon offhandedly. ¡°Considering the kind of punishments the army usually hands down for theft, I¡¯d say I got off lucky.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­ Well, he would have been within his rights to execute you for it,¡± said Iyleen, thinking about it hard.

    ¡°No, he wouldn¡¯t have been,¡± stated Callic emphatically, stabbing his index finger for extra punctuation. ¡°He¡¯s not our commanding officer, he¡¯s just the asshole that killed him.¡±

    ¡°Except our CO was an even bigger asshole than Xander, Callic,¡± replied Dellon. ¡°Or did you forget already? Are you one of those ¡®grass is greener on the other side¡¯ people? I never took you for it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a realist, Dellon. And what the hell did that asshole lying in the bed upstairs do for you to make you stick up for him like this?¡±

    ¡°He got me laid,¡± said Dellon with a smarmy smile. Okay, the conversation was tense before, but now it was getting down right uncomfortable. Both Iyleen and Callic took the bait on that line and, startled, asked when the heck that had happened. ¡°Last Fourthday, in that village we stayed the night in.¡±

    ¡°The short brunette you had been chatting up?¡± asked Callic.

    ¡°Hey,¡± interjected Iyleen.

    ¡°Not that I was looking,¡± self-corrected Callic.

    ¡°Yup, that was the one. She was a sweet girl; she really loved my uniform. Would have loved to stay for a few days.¡± Dellon seemed lost in his memories. Is it just me, or does that face he¡¯s making make me feel like avoiding him.

    ¡°So, how did Xander supposedly help you get lucky, Dellon,¡± asked Iyleen. ¡°Did he buy you a bottle of wine or something?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Dellon in a way that was somehow offhand and matter of fact at the same time. ¡°He got me out of that hole in the ground.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t follow,¡± said Callic as he crossed his arms and leaned back.

    ¡°If Xander hadn¡¯t taken over, we¡¯d all still be stuck in that hole in the ground base, with no chance of seeing the sun but every third day for patrol. And no time off, or watering holes to find any lovely ladies at. If Xander had never shown up, I¡¯d still be on my dry spell.¡±

    ¡°And how long had it been,¡± sneered Callic with the face of a man with an intimate girlfriend as he flicked some warm eyes at Iyleen. I wondered if he still thought their relationship was a secret.

    ¡°Eight months,¡± said Dellon, as though he knew the exact day of his last rendezvous. ¡°Not since before we were assigned to... our last assignment.¡±

    That moment of hesitation was probably caused by one of Xander¡¯s orders, not to discuss the base we¡¯d been at in any way that could identify it. Xander claimed it might have just been his paranoia at work, but he was determined to air on the safe side.

    Callic burst out with a derisive chuckle and said, ¡°What, the ladies in our unit all shot you down? Too bad, ya horn dog.¡±

    ¡°Actually, I don¡¯t even remember seeing you try and make a pass at any of the other girls,¡± said Iyleen. And come to think of it¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯ve been nothing but a gentleman with me,¡± I said, feeling a shade of indignation. Somehow it kinda felt like I was intentionally overlooked by a guy who¡¯d shown himself as being ready to jump for anything with two legs and a pulse.

    ¡°Heh, don¡¯t look down on me too much,¡± Dellon said. So we could look down on you a little¡­? ¡°I just followed the only sage advice my brother ever gave me. That being, ¡®don¡¯t shit where you eat.¡¯ Having any kind of romance with anyone in the same unit is just asking for trouble. Don¡¯t you think, seargent?¡±

    Wow, that was a pointed remark! Callic could only growl at it, but the table was starting to get a little more¡­ dangerous. I should try and calm it down.

    ¡°But still,¡± I said, my voice wavered a bit as I deliberately changed the subject, ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s a little much to say that I should have let Xander die? I¡¯m a Healer after all, that¡¯s kind of my job.¡±

    ¡°Hmm? Yeah, I suppose I can¡¯t fault you for that, Daphne. But still, I wish he was dead. If I could, I¡¯d kill him myself.¡±

    ¡°Are you an idiot?¡±

    In reply to Callic¡¯s statement, a voice rose from behind me on my right side. I turned to look and it was Specialist Gina Reese who¡¯d turned around in her seat at the nearby table to react to what she seemingly couldn¡¯t help but overhear.

    ¡°You calling me an idiot?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m calling an idiot an idiot,¡± quipped back Gina as she moved to straddle the back of her chair to face our table. ¡°Are you trying to get us all killed? You remember what Mercedes said, if Xander dies, we go with him.¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t forget what an enslaved mad alchemist said, Gina. How am I supposed to believe a word the crazy bitch says when she could have been ordered to say all of it by the guy who enslaved her in the first place? All we know for sure is that we have to follow his orders and we can¡¯t hurt the guy ourselves, cause Goddess knows, I¡¯ve tried.¡±

    ¡°When?¡± I asked Callic.

    ¡°What, I¡¯m supposed to keep count?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s terrible,¡± I responded.

    ¡°That¡¯s natural,¡± stated Callic flatly. ¡°Or did you forget what he did to all of us in the cafeteria?¡±

    ¡°Well, I am still angry about that,¡± said Iyleen sullenly. Dellon gave something of a grunt of approval.

    ¡°So, what? Xander beat the crap outta you and you¡¯ve all got a stick up your asses about it? Basic training was a lot worse, cause at least Xander stopped beating on you when you gave up,¡± said Gina, with a derisive leer.

    ¡°What, you on his side,¡± asked Callic, his hackles starting to rise. ¡°You taken a liking to that bastard? Is that why you helped him out at the gates today?¡±

    Gina gave a one syllable laugh of mockery, ¡°HA!¡± and said, ¡°I helped him out at the gate today to avoid us getting into a fight. But I guess, yeah, I have taken a liking to the guy. As far as I can tell, he¡¯s probably the best CO I¡¯ve ever had.¡±

    In an argumentative voice, Iyleen stated, ¡°He¡¯s not a CO. He¡¯s not even military.¡±

    ¡°Which is probably why he¡¯s the best Commanding Officer I¡¯ve had to date,¡± said Gina, with her index finger lifted as if jabbing the point home. ¡°No one¡¯s ever taught him to treat his soldiers like a disposable resource, to use us for whatever mission or national need or greater purpose he needs to fill. And unlike a lot of the noble blooded officers, I don¡¯t get any feeling that he¡¯s got some personal ambition he wants to satisfy.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re full of crap, Gina,¡± remarked Callic automatically. But what Gina was saying was interesting to me, so I asked, ¡°Why do you say that?¡±

    ¡°Because just about everything Xander¡¯s done has been about ¡®us,¡¯ instead of ¡®him.¡¯ Think about it,¡± said Gina as she moved her upturned finger to point downward and moved it as though she were drawing an outline on a non-existent table. ¡°First thing he did was to do what he called ¡®recruiting.¡¯ He could have killed all of us, or even some of us, but he didn¡¯t kill even a one of us. He even let you heal us all up, Daphne. Then he laid out the Sul to buy the wagons and stuff we needed for all of us to travel well supplied. And when we got to the gate,¡± Gina broke off for a moment to stifle a chortle, and started back up with a broad grin on her face. ¡°He actually shouted at the guards until he got all of us though, when he could have just abandoned us and walked through alone without having to give any kind of explanation.¡±

    The table was silent for some moments, then Callic said, not to be done out of his own argument, ¡°He¡¯s still a bastard, though.¡±

    ¡°But he¡¯s an interesting bastard,¡± said Gina, her smile conquering her features. ¡°Who would think to sneak past a guard post like that?¡±

    ¡°Daphne,¡± said a voice from behind me in an undertone. I turned to look and saw it was Private Zent Kow. He was fairly short, but had muscles that stood out because of his build. ¡°You said to call for you if the¡­ if he woke.¡±

    I stood up in a hurry, asked for pardons for my departure, and went upstairs immediately. I think I heard Zent say something like, ¡°We need to come up with a title for that guy,¡± on my way out of the restaurant. I found Mercedes sitting in a chair in the hall, staring at some of the blood soaked soil she¡¯d gathered from the site inside a glass vial. I fought hard against the revulsion I felt at that moment and went to the door to Xander¡¯s room.

    I carefully opened the door and stepped inside in a way to cause the least amount of noise possible. It¡¯s impossible to judge the effects of the concussion, or perhaps concussions, that Xander was suffering from without some tests and observation. I didn¡¯t want to agitate his mind any more than necessary. When I closed the door behind me, I looked to Aase who had been sitting in the only chair of the room since we¡¯d finished cleaning Xander of blood and dirt, and laid him in the bed. As far as I knew, she hadn¡¯t left the room.

    I¡¯d been entering and exiting the room every time I¡¯d saved up enough magic in my reservoir to perform treatment, and Xander¡¯s ribcage was no longer in danger of puncturing a lung, but everything else about him was still savaged. Bruises everywhere, especially his face. Weakened bones on the verge of breaking again. Internal injuries to just about all of his organs. If he tried to stand up under his own power at this point, the strain alone may lead to his death. Even with my constant treatment, it would be days, or even a week, until he fully recovered. It would be a lot easier if my gloves hadn¡¯t broken, but that was my own fault for forgetting about Xander¡¯s condition where quartz was concerned.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Aase stood up from her chair next to the head of Xander¡¯s bed and said, ¡°Like you said, I told Xander he shouldn¡¯t talk, that it could ruin his jaw, but I think he wants to say something to you.¡±

    Aase moved away to the wall, her left arm crossed under her bosom while her right knuckle came up to her teeth. I sat down in the vacated seat and leaned in to Xander¡¯s face, completely ruined but for the nose and whispered, ¡°What is it? What do you want to tell me?¡±

    Xander didn¡¯t move his jaw. He barely moved his lips and tongue. He whispered something so faintly, so weakly, that I had to pull in as close as possible to make it out. The miniscule amount of air that passed his lips tickled my cheek. After pulling in that close, I was finally able to hear the two words he spoke, but they made no sense. Confused and concerned, I pulled back until I was sitting properly in the chair again.

    ¡°What is it,¡± asked Aase worriedly. ¡°What did he say?¡±

    ¡°I think he said, ¡®Oil Can.¡¯¡±

    Aase¡¯s face went blank from astonishment for a moment before she cracked and started laughing nearly to the point that I would be concerned about hysterics. Wait a second, was that¡­?

    I turned back to Xander, and saw a small, but unmistakable smile on his lips and amusement in his drug addled eyes.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re horrible,¡± I said, unable to conceal my annoyance at Xander having pranked us like that. ¡°If you¡¯re just going to play around with me, I¡¯ll go finish my meal.¡± I said that, but I wasn¡¯t going to leave. Anyway, the others at the table had probably eaten what was left on my plate anyway. I still can¡¯t quite get used to low born table manners.

    Mmmm. Aase¡¯s still laughing. Was it really that funny?

    Xander might have tried to shake his head a little, there was a kind of back and forth tremble, and he made a kind of ¡°nnn - nnn¡± sound. Probably saying ¡°no.¡± And mumbled something else. I pulled in close again, and after a few repetitions, I made out the word, ¡°Hand.¡± Pulling back out, I saw Xander slowly opening and closing the fingers of his right hand above the covers.

    ¡°Oh,¡± I said. Xander probably wanted some company; he was probably feeling extremely vulnerable after what had happened to him. I can¡¯t possibly stay angry like this. It¡¯s a little embarrassing that he¡¯d call for me instead of Aase¡­ but I can¡¯t possibly refuse such a request from my patient.

    I gently took Xander¡¯s hand in my own. I could feel the heat of his body as his fingers slowly closed over the back of my hand. Then I felt Xander¡¯s magic gush into my body. I involuntarily jumped in my seat from the wholly unexpected situation. How could Xander move so much of his magic while he was crippled like this!?

    Flustered, I looked back up to Xander¡¯s face, into his eyes. They were slightly unfocused from the pain killers, but they were steady, aware, and full of determination. Xander nodded ever so slightly at me. Oh, dear Goddess, he wanted me to heal him? He wanted to have me heal him using his own magic? I was tempted to think it was impossible, but with this much of a flow¡­ what couldn¡¯t I do with it?

    I closed my eyes, and abandoned myself to the magic. I felt the flow of Xander¡¯s power as it entered my body, entered the deepest part of me and filled my reservoir. I took hold of that power, and I rechanneled it out and returned it to Xander, it¡¯s properties altered by my own Healing magic. With so much magic at my disposal, I wove my Scanning and Healing magics together, and I started my work.

    I first became aware of Xander¡¯s hand which held my own. The temperature of his fingers. The muscles closed around my hand. The blood vessels that pulsed with his heartbeat. I knew their form and felt their damage. And even as I felt that damage, my Healing magic swept into the flaws to knit the bone and reform the tissue. My awareness moved up and into Xander¡¯s arm, where there were stress fractures all along it¡¯s length. I re-solidified the bones such that the damages had never occurred. The bruises that covered his arm disappeared as I repaired the broken vessels and vaporized the trapped blood at the same time. I¡¯d never dreamed I¡¯d be able to perform such a complex interweaving of magic before in my life!

    My awareness moved onwards; like water spreading in a tray I was slowly coming to feel and understand the whole of Xander¡¯s body. I felt Xander¡¯s shoulders, broad for how slim the rest of his body was. I felt every one of Xander¡¯s ribs, and mended every one to them, one at a time, before my awareness took in Xander¡¯s heart. I felt every beat of it as though his chest was pressed against my cheek, and Xander¡¯s hand around my own felt like it was gripping mine more strongly, more assuredly, as I moved on to heal the internal bruising and organ damage.

    For some reason, even as I moved on to heal the rest of Xander¡¯s torso and limbs, I was still painfully aware of the even beating of his heart.

    Then I came to Xander¡¯s head and face. The damage there was severe, and the spread of my Scanning magic slowed as I took it all in. It felt like I was slowly caressing the contours of Xander¡¯s face and I touched every surface, carefully healing the massive bruising that was present. My senses moved upwards from the reformed cheeks and mended jaw, up to Xander¡¯s eyes. I gasped involuntarily as I saw the accumulated magical strength in them; or maybe it was because it felt like, despite having my eyes closed and seeing only through my magic, Xander¡¯s eyes were looking deeply into my own. I involuntarily bowed my head a little to break that eye contact, but I still felt them there, gazing into me as I finished going over Xander¡¯s entire body, learning the shape of every corner of it and healing it¡¯s injuries.

    As I confirmed that there were absolutely no remaining damages to Xander¡¯s body, I slowly, reluctantly, broke my skin contact with him. As the feeling of Xander¡¯s magic entering my body subsided, I opened my eyes to look on Xander again.

    ...Somehow, my face felt a little hot. Maybe from the excessive magic used for the treatment?

    * * * * *

    I slowly flexed in place to confirm the condition of my body, and worked my jaw a little as an experiment. I cleared my throat and asked, ¡°How is it, Daphne? Am I recovered?¡±

    ¡°Uh-yes. Completely recovered.¡±

    Hmmm. Something felt off. Was there.. Something seemed off about¡­ Daphne¡¯s face? Or is it mine? ¡°Daphne... it¡¯s hard to think. What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I gave you some pain killers before. But now that you¡¯re no longer in pain, they¡¯re just dulling your senses. They should wear off by morning.¡±

    ¡°Too long¡­¡± I complained. What filters blood? Aww, screw it.

    With something like a sneer on my face, I channeled some magic towards the purpose of Physical Reinforcement. As I did, I could slowly feel the haze leaving my mind and my body started to feel lighter as a result. As the side effects of the medicine left my awareness entirely, I sat up in bed and planted my feet on the hardwood floor. ¡°Ahhh, much better,¡± I remarked. I hated having my thinking processes compromised.

    Hmm? ¡°Daphne, are you doing that thing Mercy does? Where your jaw is hanging open for no reason? Did I do something impossible again?¡±

    ¡°Uhhh¡­ yeah. Twice over I think¡­?¡±

    Huh. Maybe I should start claiming that my drill will be the one to pierce the heavens with how often I break the unbreakable and achieve the impossible. But you know, ¡°It¡¯s kind of annoying to be told everything I¡¯m doing is impossible. Maybe the people of this world just stopped trying new things with magic?¡±

    Daphne started nodding as she said, ¡°Yeah, sure. Let¡¯s go with that. Is your body really okay? How¡¯d you do that anyway?¡±

    Daphne placed her hand on my shoulder as she was asking. Huh, her face is kinda red. Is it a byproduct of all the magic we ended up using? Did Daphne¡¯s thumb just stroke the muscle there? I think I may be completely misunderstanding the atmosphere here. Time for a tactical retreat before I make a mistake reading the mood and embarrass myself. ¡°Uh, Daphne, could I have a few minutes? I need to use the facilities.¡±

    I really did need to, whatever that medicine was, it certainly went somewhere when I filtered it by concentrating my Physical Reinforcement on my liver and kidneys. I wonder if I¡¯d be able to process poisons and toxins as well¡­? Let¡¯s never experiment with that.

    ¡°Oh, right! I¡¯ll go and, uh, give everyone the good news. Bye!¡±

    Okay, Daphne¡¯s departure was a little more awkward than I was expecting it to be. What the heck happened while I was on the borders of life and death? Well, let¡¯s finish chasing everyone out and get to the toilet. Hmm. When did I get dressed in a new undershirt and my purple sweat pants?

    ¡°Xander.¡±

    I looked up at Aase¡¯s voice, or more precisely the tone of her voice, as Daphne closed the door behind her upon exiting the room.

    ¡°Please tell me exactly what happened to you.¡±

    In that moment, Aase¡¯s eyes looked just like amethysts. A vibrant purple that captivates the eyes, aglow with an inner light, and hard as rock. There would be no brushing off of the subject or making light of it. I motioned for Aase to sit. She remained standing. Finally I sighed and gave Aase a complete recounting of what happened. I¡¯m not sure why, but part way through, I got the bitter taste of adrenaline in my mouth and my words became harder, more intense. By the time I¡¯d finished, I realized I needed to unclench my hands from their balled up fists and released a rattling sigh through my nose.

    ¡°How are you,¡± asked Aase, her tone and features showing tenderness over the serious expression.

    ¡°I dunno,¡± I said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve been knocked out cold. I caught someone¡¯s high kick wrong while sparring as a kid. But that blackout was fast, I wasn¡¯t even woozy afterwards. This feels¡­ different. It feels wrong.¡±

    ¡°Even after you¡¯ve fully recovered?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Then what are you going to do about it?¡±

    The cold edge in Aase¡¯s voice snapped my head that I¡¯d bowed while doing my deep thinking back up, and my eyes locked on hers again. Aase¡¯s eyes were still amethysts, but now they seemed sharp enough to draw blood. To take a life. For a moment, I felt worthless in those eyes that were looking down on me as I sat on the bed. For a moment. Then Aase¡¯s inner fire ignited my own. My bent back straightened and I put power into my legs to stand tall once again. Back on my feet, cold fury in my breast, no longer able to be looked down upon, I said, ¡°You¡¯re going to tell me everything that happened after I was knocked out, and then I¡¯m going to hunt the people responsible for this, and destroy them.¡±

    What I said could have been considered empty promises, but they weren¡¯t. They could have been taken as a bit of machismo to deceive myself by, but they weren¡¯t. Not in this world. If I was still back on Earth, I¡¯d have reported the matter to the police and concentrated on putting my life back together; because that¡¯s what you¡¯re supposed to do. You¡¯re suppose to follow the law and let the police handle criminals, because they¡¯re the only ones allowed to do so. I might not know much about this world comparatively speaking, but it¡¯s pretty obvious that in this world might makes right. Laws be damned, and violence be thy master.

    These three guys burned me. So I was gonna roast them alive in return.

    Aase slowly nodded, and then said. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s do that. But first¡­¡±

    Aase¡¯s features trembled and broke. She covered her mouth under her nose with both her hands balled into each other as a fat tear began rolling down her cheek. ¡°Thank God. Oh, thank God.¡±

    Machismo be damned! My gentleman instincts kicked in and I instantly put my hands gently on Aase¡¯s shoulders.

    ¡°I was so afraid,¡± her tiny, strained voice squeezed out before her emotions came rolling out in her words. ¡°When I saw you, I thought you were dead. I took my eyes off you for a moment and you died¡­¡±

    More tears chased after the first as I wrapped my arms around Aase to comfort her, and she wrapped hers around me, gripping with an emotional desperation.

    ¡°I was so afraid, Xander. I didn¡¯t know if you¡¯d wake up. I didn¡¯t know if you¡¯d die. You¡¯re the only person I can trust here, the only person who cares if I¡¯m alright. And your face! You had a seizure! I was so afraid!¡±

    I tried stroking Aase¡¯s back, and whispering little shushing noises intermingled with various derivations of ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not okay,¡± Aase shouted into my chest. ¡°You almost died! They almost killed you! I want them dead instead! I hate them for what they did to you! What they almost did to you! When you were telling me, it hurt so much. You looked beaten¡­ You looked afraid¡­ You can¡¯t be afraid Xander¡­ please don¡¯t be afraid¡­¡±

    ¡°Why¡­?¡± I tentatively asked Aase.

    ¡°Because if you¡¯re afraid of this world¡­ how can I not be¡­?¡±

    Wow.

    ¡°...I¡¯m not afraid, Aase. I¡¯m angry,¡± I said gently, but forcefully. ¡°These guys, what they did, I will repay tenfold. You may not believe me, but I am an extremely revengeful person, Aase. So I won¡¯t be satisfied until I¡¯ve repaid them for every ounce of pain they¡¯ve put the both of us through. Them, and anyone else who tries to hurt us. So you don¡¯t have to worry so much, because everything will be okay. Trust me. I¡¯m a guy who keeps his promises.¡±

    Aase sniffled loudly, and put one last burst of strength into her arms¡­ her well muscled arms, ouch¡­ and muttered, ¡°Okay.¡±

    We remained like that, silently, for a little while before I decided to try something. ¡°Hey, Aase. How about I tell you about something silly to very obviously try and improve your mood?¡±

    Aase gave a chuckle that was heavily dampened by her soggy emotional state, and said, ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°Well, you see,¡± I started recounting the tale, ¡°While I was unconscious, I had this really weird dream. It took place in someplace called Non-Continuity, and some guy named Chaz would appear out of nowhere¡­¡±

 Chapter 17: Remember Me

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that none of the weapons shops had what I wanted?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s only the one shop in town, sir, and no, they didn¡¯t,¡± answered Janette from that attentive stance she always took when it seemed she was in risk of getting chewed out over something.

    I just turned my back and looked out the window. Out there in the back courtyard of the inn, a worker was taking down the laundry in the twilight glimmer of the last hour of daylight. They didn¡¯t use rope or cord for hanging laundry here, but wooden poles suspended from large stakes in the ground. Seemed they were notched for the poles to be hung on them. I stared at those poles a little wistfully before turning back to Janette and starting in on plan B.

    ¡°Okay, in that case, hit up a general store or something. I have something very specific I want you to buy.¡±

    I gave Janette the detailed description of what I wanted and then dismissed her with the words, ¡°And tell Callic to get some people to drag the innkeeper up here to meet with me. Violently if he has to.¡±

    As Janette left, I picked up the clothes she¡¯d brought for me from her supply shopping today. I¡¯d had her and some helpers purchase a few changes of clothing for every member of my little caravan group for later. For right now though, I was still in my purple sweat pants and an undershirt, so I hurriedly changed into the used, but clean, garments. The fibers seemed a little stiff, as though the processing of materials in this world was an ongoing process of discovery, but the stitching was fine and even. Because of that the joints between the pieces of fabric were smooth and didn¡¯t cause any chafing. Sewing machines probably existed in this world, I guessed. And the fashion sense was more like post-industrial revolution, using buttons and buckles for securing clothes instead of medieval peasant leather straps for tying things in place. But none of that mattered as much as the fact that the legs of these brown pants were nice and roomy, and the charcoal grey shirt was long enough to cover my torso, even when I lifted both my arms up high.

    Yes, I¡¯ve had to do that check with every shirt I¡¯ve bought since I was 12. Tall guys have their problems too, ya know.

    Shortly after I secured the button to close the collar, since according to fashion people¡¯s torsos were meant to be completely covered under normal circumstances, there was a pounding on my door. Giving permission to enter, Callic stepped through followed by two men from his unit. My unit? Who cares. They were holding the innkeeper up between them, and he seemed to have a swollen lip.

    ¡°Close the door behind you, gentlemen, we¡¯re not in a barn,¡± I said lightly. ¡°Now, innkeep. I was told that you tried to stop my soldiers from taking down a door. Why?¡±

    ¡°Heah,¡± laughed the innkeep in his voice that was something between a hoarse croaking and a grating wheeze. ¡°The military has a lot of power, but the one thing you¡¯re not allowed to do is steal! Of course I¡¯d stop you from stealing my doors! My customers need them so they can hump each other in private!¡±

    ¡°Even after you were told it was for a dying man?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s a dead man gonna do with one¡¯a my doors? Slam it shut on his way to Paradise? Pull the other one.¡±

    ¡°I was that dying man, innkeep. I don¡¯t appreciate the fact that my broken body was being kept waiting because of your pigheadedness.¡±

    ¡°Well, you seem to be right dandy, now, ain''tcha? Didn¡¯t need one¡¯a my doors after all, now did¡¯cha?¡±

    When in the face of such consummate stupidity, there really was very little one could say, so¡­

    ¡°Callic, whenever I give you this signal,¡± I lifted my hand appropriately, ¡°I want you to punch this guy hard. Below the neck though, I¡¯d hate for you to bruise your knuckles.¡±

    The innkeper cried, ¡°Whoa, now! No need for that!¡±

    ¡°Yes there is,¡± I said with a sarcastic smile, and gave Callic the indication. The innkeeper nearly bent double from the bodyblow. Ah. I feel better already.

    ¡°Okay, I apologize yer manliness! Sorry for throwing up a fuss over you trying to take my property!¡±

    I indicated again. Let¡¯s hope this satisfaction doesn¡¯t go into diminishing returns, for the innkeep¡¯s sake.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m sorry! Really sorry this time! Can I go now?!¡±

    ¡°Actually, I didn¡¯t bring you up here to talk about the doors. You just peeved me off is all. I want to ask you about the three men who attacked me and about someone named Nigeman.¡±

    The innkeeper¡¯s face went white. Wait, was he more afraid of that name than of me? Now I really wanted to hear.

    ¡°I can have Callic keep going if you want¡­¡±

    ¡°No! No! That man, Nigeman¡­ he owns this town¡­¡±

    ¡°Literally owns it or¡­¡±

    ¡°No, not literally. What are ya, daft?!¡±

    ¡°Callic,¡± I said, about to raise my hand.

    ¡°No, no! Wait! Goddess, man, would you relax a little?¡±

    ¡°Tell me about Nigeman. From the beginning.¡±

    ¡°Okay, okay. He showed up about six years ago, him and a few other guys loyal to him. He started kicking the shit outta some other crooks to make ¡®em work for him, then started shaking down businesses. Anyone who doesn¡¯t pay ends up with broken goods or broken bones. He keeps the payments reasonable, mostly, but sometimes he charges extra on a whim. Just to make sure we know our place.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s been getting away with this for six years? Those guys were bashing up the shop in broad daylight. Hell, they dragged me into the street to give me that beat down! Are you seriously telling me the cops aren¡¯t doing anything about these thugs?!¡±

    ¡°Copse¡­?¡± asked Callic, his head and everyone else''s¡¯ tilted in confusion. Fucking language barrier, always popping up just when I forgot it was there.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°The guards, those mercenaries, the lawmen, whoever. Don¡¯t they do anything about these slimeballs?¡±

    The innkeeper looked at me a little funny and asked, ¡°Are you alright in the head?¡±

    Callic slapped the guy upside the head and stepped close to me to gruffly mutter, ¡°Mercenaries are only in charge of protecting the villages and the gates from attacks. Keeping the peace is the job of garrisons, and the city lord. In other words, the military.¡±

    I gave a curt nod to try and not tip our hand to the innkeeper. I don¡¯t want my ignorance to get too well known. Callic moved back over to where he was without giving me any guff. I guess maybe he was interested in this topic of conversation, too.

    ¡°Innkeep, doesn¡¯t the city¡¯s lord know about Nigeman? Why hasn¡¯t the local garrison been set upon him and his cronies?¡± I seriously doubt a lack of evidence would count for much in a world like this.

    The innkeeper sort of fidgeted a little, so I called gently to Callic. ¡°Okay, already! Yeesh. We think, we business owners, that is, we think Lord Bahwell is getting paid to look the other way.¡±

    Hmmm.

    ¡°Your reasons for this?¡±

    ¡°Well, he¡¯s the only lord of this city I¡¯ve seen who¡¯s lived so well. And it sure as hell ain¡¯t because of family connections. And some people have seen Nigeman¡¯s people enter the lord¡¯s estate with packages every now and then. If that don¡¯t prove he¡¯s on the take, then what would?¡±

    It definitely wasn¡¯t evidence of bribery. But it was enough for me to be wary of Lord Bowel. Even his name sounded dirty. And if the local street toughs were confident enough to beat a man in the street, and no one would give aid, even after the thugs left, then the local lord being in Nigeman¡¯s pocket was the likeliest scenario.

    Well, Nigeman seemed like a bad enough dude to deserve some comeuppance, but let¡¯s not lose sight of my goals here.

    ¡°Tell me about the three guys who assaulted me.¡±

    ¡°What makes you think I¡¯d know about them?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the innkeeper. You¡¯d know everything in town worth knowing and everyone passing through. You¡¯re the best source of info I¡¯ve got, and the guys who beat on me were collecting one or two streets over. You¡¯re probably on their work schedule. So. Tell me about the guys who collect from you.¡±

    ¡°...What do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Everything you know. Especially where I can find them, right now.¡±

    * * * * *

    The sign in front of the bar proclaimed it to be ¡°The Barn Door¡± with a subheading claiming it to be ¡°Always Open.¡±

    I don¡¯t know if you could say I stalked inside, or strolled, or sauntered. But I entered the building with purpose and a veneer of nonchalance. The inside was lit with quartz lamp sconces in the walls with mirrors backing them to cast lighting. As such, there were no dim corners, but the entire room felt drab anyway. It was a plank wood crafted box meant for people to get drunk in, whether it be at a round table in the center of the room, a square table against the walls, gulping booze while walking around, or downing shots at the bar.

    Reminded me of a place a friend forced me to go to once. It was a wasted evening.

    I moseyed around the room a little, checking faces and groups. I eliminated entire areas of the bar before I saw them, grouped up, sitting on stools, bellies up to the bar itself, just having a few chuckles after a profitable day of work. I tried my absolute best not to look directly at them as I stalked into a spot around the corner of the bar, using some burly laborer to hide most of my body so I could get a good look at the three guys faces through furtive glances, trying to time my looks when they were being noisy or rowdy. Which was often.

    Yeah. It was them.

    I sipped at the beer I¡¯d ordered in the big glass mug. Seemed glass didn¡¯t shatter in my hand like quartz did, so that was lucky. Then, when the four soldiers who were my backup entered the bar, I stood up from my stool and rounded the bar counter to get out of my prey¡¯s line of sight. Using my back as cover, I held two fingers under my eyes - I see - lifted three fingers in count - all three - and turned my index and middle finger into a pointing hand while looking directly at the three stooges at the bar - right there.

    The four of them, privates all dressed in civvie clothes, since Callic would have stuck out like a sore thumb, meandered closer to our targets as though they were heading to the bar for a drink. I turned around and had a bit of an idea. Because I recognized the guy on the left side of the three stooges as the one who¡¯d hit me from behind. I needed to pay my respects.

    There¡¯s something you need to know about me. I¡¯m Sicilian descent. Being American, I was automatically a bit mongrel, but I identified myself as Sicilian. My family had a specific recipe handed down from the ancestors for pasta sauce, for instance. But really, what makes us Sicilian descent, was our attitude towards life, in our open kindness to visitors on down to the way we lost our tempers. Whether it was nature or nurture, when the men in our family really lost our cool, we either ruin our knuckles on walls, or ruined our property to ¡°safely¡± get the rage out. Just like mobsters in the movies.

    My father was almost exactly like what Tony Soprano would have been if he¡¯d become a cop and found Jesus rather than becoming an amoral Wise Guy. Except better looking.

    But there was another defining trait that I attribute to my lineage. My creativity with violence. Because anyone could just punch a guy.

    I lightly leaned into the bar over a stool and pantomimed trying to get the barkeep¡¯s attention, before glancing to my right, doing a double take, and speaking directly to the guy who¡¯d clubbed me from behind. I knew his name thanks to the innkeeper, and said in that tone of voice you used when seeing an old friend, ¡°Hey! Rownie! Remember me?¡±

    I¡¯d lifted my empty right hand up in a gesture of open friendliness, all smiles, and as Rownie¡¯s head turned to look at my face, trying to place an old friend, I used the momentum of my ¡°friendly gesture¡± to plant my right hand on the back of his head and slam it as hard as I could into the hardwood bar.

    Heads don¡¯t bounce when they strike hard wood. Not if you do it right, and I did. But because Rownie¡¯s head didn¡¯t bounce, I couldn¡¯t slam it a second time. So instead, I tossed the remains of my beer into Rownie¡¯s eyes to blind him as I gripped the collar of his shirt to drag him off his stool, laying him out on the floor. Then I kicked him a few times in the kidney. Just the one. The accumulated damage might cause it to burst, but I wanted to make sure he pissed blood.

    I looked up real quick and saw my soldiers had secured Rownie¡¯s pals, then looked back down and kicked Rownie in the kidney one more time. It was time to go¡­ but I was still holding my empty beer mug, and had another idea. Well, waste not, want not, after all.

    I threw and smashed the mug on the floor, just past Rownie, and then grabbed for his feet. Rownie had some of his senses back and tried to fend me off. So I punched him in the nuts once and grabbed his ankles while he contorted. Then I started pulling Rownie outside the bar, making sure to travel through the patch of broken glass. Rownie started screaming as I dragged him, streaks of blood from his back appearing on the planking as he passed.

    ¡°Rownie, old buddy, old pal,¡± I said lightly as I dragged him, and then ended it in a Jack Nicholson growl. ¡°We have so much catching up to do.¡±

    Tables and chairs flipped as Rownie tried grabbing anything for leverage. Patrons of the bar scattered everywhere or gazed on in horror. But no one tried to stop me. I successfully removed Rownie from the bar, dragging him into the street, quickly followed by the soldiers who¡¯d infiltrated the bar with me, escorting our other two captives. We met up with another four soldiers who quickly shoved rags into our captives mouths, tied them down with gags, and then put burlap sacks over their heads before tying their hands with rope. With that done, the nine of us escorted our captive across the street where a street urchin of a boy was waiting to escort us through the back alleys back to the inn.

    I took that extra step of precaution to make sure no one could follow us after leaving the bar. After all, I didn¡¯t want any interruptions with these three.

    I had plans for them, after all. Tonight was gonna be a night to remember.

 Chapter 18: First Rule

    ¡°You¡¯re sure I can watch,¡± asked a kitchen hand for the inn that was about my age, with something like hopeful optimism on his face.

    ¡°Your inn is letting us use the cellar. It would be bad manners to turn you away. But are you sure you wanna watch?¡± I said, not for a fear of an audience, I¡¯m theatrically trained after all, but because things were going to be getting violent down there.

    The kitchen hand nodded his head intently, and said, ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who¡¯s been roughed up by those assholes. I wanna see ¡®em get what¡¯s comin'' to ¡®em.¡±

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± I said with a shrug and proceeded to step down the wide stairs from the kitchen into the cellar of the inn, which was built wide and solid, in anticipation of having to store large quantities of spoil-able merchant goods in addition to the inn¡¯s own foodstuffs. Down there a nice large area had been cleared out, and every member of my caravan, yeah, let¡¯s go with caravan from now on, was encircled around the three hooligans that were tied up and laying on the floor. Stepping into the encirclement, I called out to Daphne, asking, ¡°You heal that guy¡¯s back yet?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± replied Daphne, with a look of worry and consternation battling across her face, ¡°but I¡¯d like to be able to treat his kidney. It could really use some healing.¡±

    ¡°No, the kidney damage stands,¡± I said resolutely. After all, I went to all the trouble of targeting it. Why would I let it be treated before the guy underwent the horror of blood in his urine? But I wasn¡¯t completely savage. I was, after all, going to give these guys a fighting chance.

    ¡°Untie them,¡± I called, and Zent bent to cut the ropes around their hands one at a time, like I¡¯d instructed him before hand. The rest of the releasing of their bindings was up to the three stooges. The idea wasn¡¯t lost on them, though it took a few moments for their minds to process it, and the first one to take the hood off his head was good old Rownie, who looked like a completely normal guy, except he either salivated too much or constantly licked his lips, because he looked like he had fish lips. The second was a guy named Brun, who¡¯s hardy name was wasted on a guy with big teeth and a narrow jaw that made him look like a rat. The last was the stupidest of the group, Gellis, who had something of a smushed face and cheekbones so sharp he could probably chop veggies with them.

    The three of them ungagged themselves, and then untied their legs as well before standing up. They looked around themselves and seemed suitably cowed by being surrounded by thirty men and women in military uniforms. I was wearing my own uniform for this occasion as well, complete with the insignias for Lumpy¡¯s ranking of colonel. I wanted these guys nice and desperate. And they were, I could see the wildness in their eyes. I chose that moment when some of the soldiers were beginning to crack some knuckles to start things off right.

    ¡°Listen up!¡± I shouted, grabbing everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°We¡¯re all here for a show, and that¡¯s exactly what we¡¯re gonna get. But before that.¡±

    I held a finger aloft.

    ¡°The first rule of Fight Club is, you do not talk about Fight Club!¡±

    I waited in the sudden silence. The room was still with confusion and anticipation, but there was only one thing I was waiting for¡­ and it didn¡¯t come. I slowly turned my head to look at Aase, who was wearing a uniform her size so she¡¯d fit in, wondering why I got no reaction from her. After a few seconds of her looking at me with a blank gaze, there was a sign of recognition and she said, ¡°Oh, wait, that¡¯s a movie, right?¡±

    I sighed in resignation. No helping it then.

    ...I miss movies.

    ¡°Alright, seriously this time. You three pieces of garbage,¡± the three of them looked at me with renewed nervousness, ¡°I¡¯m going to give you a chance to walk out of here as free men.¡±

    The three of them seemed a bit relieved, but rat face asked, ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±

    Seems he was the smart one. ¡°The catch is, the three of you need to beat me in a fight. Three on one. If you can do that, you walk away, and we don¡¯t go after you.¡± They looked happy and confident. After all, they¡¯d curb stomped me once before, so they were liking their chances. ¡°You can even use body reinforcement if you¡¯re able. I¡¯ll also be fighting with appropriate force as well.¡± The stooges looked apprehensive again. ¡°Janette, if you will.¡±

    Janette stepped into the open space of the circle carrying what I¡¯d sent her to purchase. She carried it in both hands, trying to be reverential of my chosen weapon, while at the same time her face was plagued by doubt. Mumbled whispers of confusion and indignation sounded from the peanut gallery, but it was only a matter of time until they were talking out the other side of their faces. I took hold of the span of wood in one hand, and felt the balance. Then I took it in both hands, thumbs facing each other and tested the flexibility with a few short jerks. I¡¯d already tested the weapon before coming down here, but it was always ideal to get a feeling for your tool of choice before starting the fight.

    As Janette retreated from the circle, I took a firm grip of the shaft in my right hand, extended my left leg towards the stooges, dropped my waist a little, and let my left hand run along the smoothed length of the shaft, the end of my weapon pointed low and ready. Even after I had taken my stance, the stooges weren¡¯t taking me seriously, nor were the soldiers. I guess none of them have ever seen someone fight with a quarterstaff before. Wait. The stooges were starting to crack smiles and laugh?

    Okay, fuck these guys. Seriously.

    ¡°You going to come at me, pussy-trio, or are you going to force me to chase you down?¡±

    Their amusement turned into bravado as they started stepping forward, only cursory guards lifted with their fists in standard untrained boxing positions. The idiots hadn¡¯t even lowered their centers of gravity before stepping forward into my range of attack.

    The room was quiet, without any energy from the audience aside from Aase who knew what my weapon was. Because of that disappointed silence, the sound of four cracks resounding one immediately after another could be heard clearly, and all three of the stooges were crying out in pain.

    As the trio stepped forward, I dropped my waist into a proper Horse Stance, and then took a step forward onto my left foot while stabbing upward with my staff. The blunt end of the staff impacted directly above the heart of Gellis, who was the thug in the middle of the trio. All of the kinetic energy of the thrust was directed into that round little point, shattering the ribcage under the pressure. The impact didn¡¯t just damage the man, but pushed him back, throwing off his balance faster than his shitty boxing stance could adapt to the attack.

    The bo staff, or quarterstaff as I had to start calling it so people knew what the fuck I was talking about, was not really my weapon of choice. I was trained with the spear, but Janette couldn¡¯t find one in the town. Lucky for Gellis; a spear tip would have penetrated all the way through his body with a strike like that.

    With my body fully extended in a thrusting position, I could have been left vulnerable to a counterattack if I didn¡¯t still have full mastery of my balance thanks to the Horse Stance. A mastery I used to swing the quarterstaff to the right, my right hand twisting at the wrist to provide the leverage and mobility needed to take a swipe at the extended right wrist of Brun. The quarterstaff impacted with a crack of wood striking unprotected bone and ligaments. The pain caused Brun to pull his hand back in to start cradling it with his left hand.

    One of the major strengths of a quarterstaff aside from its extended reach was it¡¯s flexibility, it¡¯s springiness. Thanks to that springiness, I was able to turn my strike at Brun¡¯s wrist into a ricochet strike to aim at Rownie¡¯s head. Because of my forward braced position on my left leg, I couldn¡¯t swing to much to my left without breaking my spine to do so, but with a bend of my elbow and some practiced faith in my aim, I was able to give Rownie a firm love tap to the back of his head, behind the ear, with the flexing tip of my staff. The strike threw him off balance with a loud crack, and the recoil allowed me a harder swing back to my right to strike Brun across the temple while his guard was broken. That sent the man sprawling to the floor, out like a light.

    One down, for now. Because what a quarterstaff has in range and flexibility, it lacked in fatality. Because of the springiness, a quarterstaff would strike a target, then bounce back a little, before striking it again with less impact. In other words, instead of resolutely breaking bodies and bones with the full strike of a swing, the impact was divided into two strikes, leaving a lot of pain, but usually a lot less in the way of permanent damage. There was a definite danger of Brun re-entering the fight.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The Horse Stance had served its purpose in the opening strike. I finally pulled back from my thrust and changed my left hand from an undergrip to an upper grip on the shaft of wood, basically going from a striking grip to a maneuverability grip. I shifted my stance, placed my right foot in front of my left, and spun on my feet. Building centrifugal speed, I dipped the tip of my staff to catch Rownie below the knee, sweeping his leg out from under him and causing him to land badly on his back, driving the air from his lungs. Rownie was grounded for the moment, but Gellis was still on his feet, and was stepping back, wary of me. I took advantage of Gellis¡¯ caution and kept spinning, making nonsense moves that were either pretty or confusing depending on your viewpoint on the fight. A twirl of the staff about my waist, a spin of the staff between by hands, and then I was twirling my staff above my head before bringing it down for another strike. But not on Gellis.

    The advantages to spinning on the battlefield are many, though one must be wary of motion sickness. One advantage is that you get chances to peek behind you, so I saw that Rownie was struggling to get off the ground. Another is that when you¡¯re liable to be facing any given direction at any time, it¡¯s a lot easier to attack someone who¡¯s behind you.

    I came out of my spins to extend my right leg towards Rownie, bending deeply at the knee with my left leg stretched straight out behind me. The staff that was above my head was now being held with my right hand only as I brought it down onto Rownie¡¯s shoulder. Because I was holding the staff near the end, the length of my strike, from the left heel to the tip of the staff was about thirteen feet. All of the accumulated force of my entire body¡¯s momentum and the downward swing was all collected into the end of the quarterstaff that struck Rownie''s collarbone, breaking it in a single strike.

    In reality, a human collar bone is rather fragile. It doesn¡¯t exist for any kind of reinforcement, it¡¯s a circuit breaker for the spinal cord. So when it gets struck by enough force to harm the neck, it snaps to prevent the severing of the spinal cord. A helpful little fact when you want to aim for a bone that will break fairly easily, cause incredible pain, and cripple half a fighting body. Rownie went down again before even really getting back up, screaming in pain, clutching his shoulder as if it actually helped.

    So, Rownie was almost certainly out of the fight, since low level brutes were not known for their willingness to fight even after being crippled. But such a big move was typically reserved for use as a finisher. It left me completely open, and from the loud cussing from Gellis, it seemed he was going to take advantage of that opening. I turned my head Gellis¡¯ direction and was slightly relieved at what I saw. Gellis was still off balance and slightly retreating from all the whirling dervish action he had been dodging earlier. He had only finished pulling up his pluck enough to charge me when I was retrieving my staff, lifting it up over my head by utilizing the rebound and taking the thrusting grip once again. Gellis lifted his right foot mid charge looking to connect his boot with my face since it was so low to the ground right now.

    If Gellis hadn¡¯t have hesitated in his attack while I was dispatching Rownie then he would have made it in time and I¡¯d have been sporting treadmarks on my forehead. But as it was, Rownie¡¯s charge only gave him momentum as I shifted my weight from my right leg, which I straightened, to my left leg, which I bent, and caught him in the right side of his chest with a thrust of my staff. There was another crack as the ribs on his right side broke as well, and the impact redirected Gellis¡¯ body enough that instead of performing a kick, he fell flat on his ass with a leg pointed right at the ceiling. And since he now had broken ribs over both of his lungs, his breathing was heavily labored.

    I struggled a little to get up out of the mega low Horse Stance (I¡¯m not a shaolin monk, ya know) and walked over to Brun who was making some sputtering sounds and shaking his head to clear some cobwebs. He was still chest down on the floor at this point, but I didn¡¯t feel like seeing him stand up again and brought the haft of my staff down on his back repeatedly until he stopped trying to get up.

    Once I confirmed that the stooges were staying down, and that no one was looking at me with anything but surprise and maybe a bit of fear, I said aloud, ¡°Thus endith the lesson!¡±

    I knew it was a machismo thing, and not really my style, but I had to prove to these soldiers that I wasn¡¯t some pansy who was gonna get crushed the moment they took their eyes off me. And then there was the need to prove to myself that I wasn¡¯t a victim. The entire performance was wholly unnecessary, but at the same time, it was wholly necessary.

    ¡°Alright,¡± I called out in a commanding tone, ¡°Grab three chairs from the restaurant, and tie these mooks into them. Gags and hoods, people.¡±

    * * * * *

    The securing process had been relatively uneventful, except for me having to shout one of the idiot trio into staying on the ground. I also allowed Daphne to heal the broken collarbone after the guy got tied into the chair. After that, I had two of the idiots hauled upstairs, still tied, into the kitchen to stew for a while.

    ...No pun intended.

    Right now, in the light quartz illuminated cellar, I had two privates flanking rat faced Brun in a chair. I was wearing my leather jacket, the two rows of buttons on either side of my chest buttoned up, and Got DAMN I was feeling like I¡¯d gained a level in Bad Ass. Feeling my oats, I yanked the hood off Brun¡¯s head, hearing his startled cry that was muffled by the gag.

    ¡°Brun,¡± I said frostily, ¡°I¡¯m going to give you a chance to avoid incredible amounts of pain. And by that I mean- Brun? Stop it!¡±

    Brun had been squirming against his bonds and screeching for his life until I struck him solidly in the shin with my quarterstaff. Once his muffled howl of pain subsided, I said adamantly, ¡°You do not speak until you are told to, you do not move unless I say you can, and you are to listen when I speak to you. Understand?¡±

    Brun gave a coward¡¯s nod, sharp juttering movements up and down. I slowly nodded, and smacked his shin again. Brun howled and seemed to ask ¡®what was that for¡¯ through his gag.

    ¡°That was because you interrupted my speech, Brun. I had it all planned out. And since you just spoke out of turn¡­¡±

    I went to whack Brun¡¯s shin again, but stopped at the last moment, with Brun uttering a pre-pain howl that died in a confused yelp. I spoke again after this. Starting from a standing position, and slowly moving closer to Brun¡¯s face to up the menace as much as possible. And while the words I used were terrible, my voice was vacant of emotion.

    ¡°Now, as I was saying, I¡¯m going to give you a second chance to avoid pain. I¡¯m going to ask you some questions Brun, that you are going to answer, as complete as your knowledge will allow. Whenever I feel you are holding back on me, I will begin hurting you. I will hurt you, Brun, until your body cannot survive any more, and then I will have the healer that brought me back from the brink of death heal you as well. You will be healed completely, until there is not even a trace of an injury upon you. And then I will drag you back to the edge of death, just to heal you over, and over, and over, until your mind breaks. I will torture you until you are nothing more than a gibbering madman, and then kick you to the curb to beg for moldy scraps of food for the rest of your pathetic life.¡±

    By this time, I was supporting my body by holding my weight up from the free hand I was pressing down on Brun¡¯s forearm with, my face inches from his, staring into his eyes.

    ¡°I will do this terrible act with joy in my heart, Brun. Do you know why?¡±

    The muffled sound of a weak ¡®no¡¯ came from Brun¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Because I¡¯m the man you stomped to pulp and left for dead today.¡±

    Brun began to shiver while staring into my eyes, a moan of desperation leaking from his lips.

    I pulled back from Brun¡¯s face, releasing the menace I¡¯d built around him a little, and said, ¡°Here¡¯s how this works Brun. I want to know everything about your boss, Nigeman. I want to know everything about where Nigeman lives and works. I want to know everything you know about the other people in his criminal group, especially about where they live and work. And to make sure that every answer you give me is truthful, I will check it independently with your two buddies, who I will also question separately, just to make sure your answers line up with one another. If the answers do not coincide, well¡­ I already told you what I would do to you. Now, with your indoor voice,¡±

    I pulled the gag out of Brun¡¯s mouth and said, ¡°Where is Nigeman?¡±

    * * * * *

    The questioning process was rather straightforward, and I had Janette taking notes on their answers to make sure they knew I could track who said what. One of the trio actually pissed himself. It¡¯s good to know they were taking the matter seriously, and in the end the info I got lined up with what I was able to get from the kitchen staff and the street urchin who I was retaining the services of. He was currently asleep in a chair in the hallway after a late supper that my caravan¡¯s chef had made for him.

    At this point, I had nothing much to do until the gear and preparations for the coordinated strike had been finished. It¡¯d been an eventful day, and it was only a little before ten o¡¯clock by the clock on the wall.

    ...HOLY SHIT! This world had clocks!

    The kitchen hand who¡¯d watched my performance with the quarterstaff had been hanging around ever since then. This was probably the most interesting thing to happen in this building since he¡¯d started working there, and he probably didn¡¯t want to miss out. Eventually he¡¯d plucked up the nerve to approach me now that I was in my post performance slump and, after a few false starts and words of admiration, ¡°What was that you said earlier? About a fight club?¡±

    Oh, this could be something to occupy myself with.

    ¡°You sure you wanna hear about it? It¡¯s a bit of a story,¡± I asked, hopeful feelings intruding into my voice.

    ¡°Uh, yeah. Is it interesting?¡±

    ¡°Oh, very.¡± After the kitchen hand gave his assent, I started the tale. ¡°This is the story of love, betrayal, violence, and surpassing the limits that society has imposed upon we normal men. But at heart, it¡¯s a tale about the relationship between two men. Jack. And Tyler Durden.¡±

 Extra Chapter 3: Consultation

    Extra Chapter 3 takes place during Chapter 13¡­ Or does it?

    <hr>

    ¡°Daphne, I need to talk to you,¡± lightly called a voice from behind her. As Daphne turned, she saw that the one who spoke was Aase. She seemed a little nervous, perhaps.

    ¡°Alright. What did you want to talk about?¡±

    Aase hesitated, looked around to take in the other people in the camp, and then very nearly whispered, ¡°In private, please?¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± uttered Daphne. It had dawned on her that it was one of those medical conversations that people would spring on Healers at odd times. Daphne was already use to receiving them and her professional demeanor took over immediately. ¡°Please, right this way.¡±

    Daphne escorted Aase to the edge of the camp, a place that was barely illuminated by the camp fires without being pitch black in the rapidly darkening night. After a surreptitious look around them, Daphne said, ¡°Alright, we should be fine talking here. Did you have any further concerns about your hair color?¡±

    It was a guess, and an ice breaker question at the same time. In Daphne¡¯s experience, these kinds of consults could take a while to get going if she didn¡¯t facilitate to some degree. On the other hand, Aase started to flat out deny it.

    ¡°No, no. It¡¯s not that. Well¡­ not the hair on top of my head at least¡­¡±

    Daphne nodded sagely¡­ or understandingly, and asked, ¡°Then you also experienced a color change to your pub-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say it out loud,¡± hissed Aase, talking over Daphne. ¡°No! Well, yes, that area changed as well, but it¡¯s not about that area at all.¡±

    Aase, red with embarrassment, stopped talking completely, and was just looking about her, apparently making sure no one heard their conversation so far. Aase might actually die from embarrassment if someone had overheard that. Daphne kindly cleared her throat and asked, ¡°Then what other hair are you talking about?¡±

    Aase was focused again, but still quiet, thinking hard about how to say it. Finally, she decided on the words, ¡°I haven¡¯t had to shave since I came to this world.¡±

    ¡°...Shave what?¡±

    ¡°...My legs.¡±

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°Or my under arms.¡±

    ¡°...That¡¯s it?¡±

    Aase looked completely bewildered by Daphne¡¯s lack of a reaction, and stated, ¡°Yes. I haven¡¯t had to do any of¡­ that grooming since I landed here, Daphne. I was a little bit stubbly before your people kidnapped me, but now I can¡¯t find even a trace of hair in those places. It¡¯s had me a little bit freaked out for a while now.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it normal for a woman to not have any hair in those places,¡± asked Daphne quizzically.

    ¡°What? No. Every woman has hair in those places. Are you actually telling me you¡¯ve never had any leg hair?¡± Daphne shook her head. ¡°Or underarm hair?¡± Daphne shook her head again.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°As far as I know,¡± said Daphne, ¡°I¡¯ve never met any woman who has had hair in those places. Men do, of course, but never a woman.¡±

    ¡°...You¡¯re actually telling me that women in this world don¡¯t have to spend time grooming their legs and underarms?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you find that strange?¡±

    ¡°I find it strange that women in your world have to do something like that in the first place.¡±

    ¡°...But I¡¯m not from this world. Why would I suddenly have all that hair disappear? Not like it was a large amount in the first place, because it wasn¡¯t. It definitely wasn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t even hazard a guess, Aase. Maybe Mercedes could if you told her?¡± Daphne couldn¡¯t tell, what with patient confidentiality.

    ¡°Absolutely not. I wouldn¡¯t trust Mercy with anything more important than a loaf of bread.¡±

    Daphne could begrudgingly admit to the wisdom of such a feeling. Mercedes was really beginning to betray Daphne¡¯s trust in her as a person.

    Aase went back into introspection mode and said aloud, ¡°But if I don¡¯t have to shave anymore, that¡¯s really going to save me so much bother. And it means I can wear anything I want, whenever I want to. Oh, this is absolutely wonderful¡­¡±

    A smile of pure glee was beginning to creep across Aase¡¯s face as she was muttering to herself. Daphne concluded that the medical consultation period had pretty much come to an end and asked, ¡°Is there anything else that was bothering you?¡±

    ¡°Yes, actually,¡± said Aase as she returned to herself. ¡°Since we¡¯re on the subject, I was wondering if tampons exist in this world? I mean, it¡¯s not quite time for that time yet, but I want to be prepared, you know?¡±

    And so it was that Daphne and Aase had their first actual conversation with one another, on the topic of feminine hygiene, which succeeded in bridging the gap between the two for the first time. While this conversation would prove to be less than memorable for these two, it was the first brick to lay the foundation for their friendship in the future. And lo, little did either of them know that the reason why women in the world of Meaorh did not need to shave was because their Deity was a Goddess herself, and when she built the world from the barest firmaments of reality, she ensured that the presence of magic power in women would absolutely remove the requirement for shaving those annoying parts of the body.

    No living being in the world of Meaorh ever knew this, nor would they ever know this. For what Goddess would ever admit to her believers that she had customized reality itself to simplify her own personal grooming?

    * * * * *

    The next morning...

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I cursed as I cut myself shaving again. All the magic in the world and these barbarians couldn¡¯t make a safety razor. Damn that hurt! And the shaving soap didn¡¯t make the sting any less severe!

    I pulled the shaving instrument from my face to give it yet another dirty look, as though that would make the tool more compliant. It was basically an old barber style straight razor, complete with a wooden handle it could fold into for travel purposes and a pin to lock it in place for use. The only difference was that the blade itself was much shorter than your classic straight razor, probably because it could be used as an effective weapon otherwise, because lord knows it¡¯s wasn¡¯t an effective shaving instrument!

    I normally only shaved close in my previous world when I had to look presentable for something or other. Otherwise I used an electric razor to keep my facial hair down. But nooooooo, none of those here in Meaohr! Either way though, I was going to have to pass myself off as a military officer today, and that meant not having any stubble. ...Back at it, then.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± I cursed as I sliced my chin. Damn it! Just a little more to go¡­ then I could go beg Daphne for some healing magic.

    How the hell did Aase keep those legs of hers so smooth? It¡¯s not like I couldn¡¯t notice with those pajama shorts of hers. Should I ask for shaving tips¡­? Nah. I felt like I¡¯d have to hand in my Man Card if I did that. Just a little more, just a little more. You can do this, Xander.

    ¡°Fuck! Ow!¡±

 Chapter 19: On Stage

    ¡°You¡¯re sure of the numbers and positions,¡± I asked the street urchin boy and his three friends. They were sure, and they stated so, in their off hand and colorful way. The translation part of the transfer magic was handy, but whatever language it was, slang will always sound like jibberish.

    I marked the info on the rough map in exes, and the number dwarfed the circles that had been made in accordance to the number of guards the prisoners told me about.

    ¡°Looks like our captives lied,¡± grunted Callic, his face in half shadow from the dim light the covered lantern cast in the blackness of the alleyway a few streets down from Nigeman¡¯s mansion. The bastard had a large manor in the merchant district of the town, approximately the size of two modern houses from Earth, with just as many rooms, though it was only two stories.

    ¡°He prob¡¯ly wuzzn¡¯t lyin¡¯, sir,¡± said an urchin. ¡°Them mens is new ta¡¯ us.¡±

    ¡°So he reinforced his defenses, tonight,¡± asked Gina, her slit pupil eyes narrowing in consideration.

    ¡°Prudent,¡± I offhandedly muttered. ¡°A team of his gets jumped and dragged who knows where, he probably thinks a gang war is about to erupt. The truth is a bit worse for him than that, though.¡±

    Gina¡¯s smile looked predatory in the half shadows, Callic¡¯s frown seemed sinister, Aase¡¯s blank face appeared cold and emotionless, and my smirk probably looked like something else entirely. There were a couple of team leaders in the shadows acting something like bodyguards in addition to their duties. Once the final strategy session ended, they¡¯d rejoin their groups for the raid.

    I pointed at some points on the map and asked Callic and Gina, ¡°Are these pathways still valid for these numbers, or are we going to have to get loud before we even kick in the doors?¡±

    Almost felt like I was planning out a mission in Rainbow 6, except I didn¡¯t have to bother with rescuing digital hostages.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s definitely going to get loud,¡± said Gina, amused. ¡°These guys were never trained to be quiet,¡± she said, indicating the other soldiers.

    And she was? I¡¯d have to ask about that later. ¡°If it gets loud, so be it. But can we subdue these numbers without significant losses?¡±

    ¡°If they fight like those turds in the basement, we won¡¯t have any trouble,¡± sneered Callic.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said in understanding, and then challenged, ¡°Now let¡¯s imagine they¡¯re armed with weapons, and are as competent as a civilian can be in using them. What¡¯s your opinion then, Callic?¡±

    Callic was silent for a moment. He may have thought of going straight bravado for a split second, but he was taking the question as seriously as the lives of his men demanded he should. Guy had command potential, even if he was an enormous jerk. ¡°We¡¯re armored, and they¡¯re not,¡± Callic said. ¡°We can take them out without any real casualties as long as no one gets behind us.¡±

    I nodded and said, ¡°And even if they do, that¡¯s when Gina and Aase come into play.¡±

    Gina smiled while Aase nodded once, seriously. Aase was combat capable, but I wasn¡¯t going to bring her in on the initial raid, for only one reason. Her magic was too damn powerful, she couldn¡¯t control it in a fine enough way not to risk friendly fire in confined spaces. Her place in this operation was emergency backup, in case things went sideways. Should that happen, I wouldn¡¯t care about property damage as long as we could get my people out.

    As for why I¡¯m not having Aase just bombard Nigeman¡¯s house right from the start¡­ well, I have my reasons.

    So that¡¯s why I assigned Aase, Gina, two soldiers, and Daphne to be the emergency extraction team. Mercy I left at the inn.

    ¡°Alright, the plan is unchanged. We go on the agreed signal, so keep your ears peeled, kids,¡± I said as I started rolling up the map.

    ¡°Us¡¯s ears is a¡¯ways open, sir. Is ¡®ow we¡¯s survive.¡±

    I nodded and said to the soldiers, ¡°Get back to your teams, and remember. Alive if possible. Dead, just as good. Your lives are more important than theirs. Go.¡±

    The lantern in Callic¡¯s hand was dimmed to almost nothing. The soldiers had their hands taken by urchins and placed on the kid¡¯s shoulders so the men wouldn¡¯t get lost while the boys led them through back alleys. I told Aase, ¡°I¡¯ll see you on the flip side,¡± as she and Gina left, Aase and Gina both moving unaided. One urchin took my hand but I said, ¡°It¡¯s alright, I can see just fine.¡±

    And I could. The fine details of my surroundings escaped me, but I could see well enough in the cloying darkness of the night that people in my world normally didn¡¯t experience except during a power outage, or on a camping trip. A little part of my brain told me I should panic over how unnatural my eyes had to have become to be able to see this well, but that voice couldn¡¯t hold a candle to my determination to abuse the reinforcement of my sight as much as necessary.

    I¡¯d been thrown into a world of monsters, dragons, and crime lords. It¡¯s survival of the fittest time.

    Somehow, it felt like the corners of my mouth lifted a bit at that thought. Once again, I wondered what my smirk looked like to other people as I stalked through the darkness.

    * * * * *

    Keeping my emotions under control was usually easy. I felt my emotions deep and strong, like a subterranean river, but I left them riding sidecar to logic and necessity. At that moment though, I was working hard to keep my burning feelings of anticipation and aggression in check, because as the other soldiers in my assault group notified me, they were causing my eyes to smolder like coals in a campfire.

    Maybe I should just close my eyes until everyone was ready. Let¡¯s try that.

    ¡­

    GUH! Crap, I think I was starting to drift off a little.

    The street urchin¡¯s ears perked up to the sound of a bird and he said, ¡° ¡®At wuz tha las¡¯sun, suh.¡± The kid couldn¡¯t have been more than six years old. He had one big front tooth, and the other was an empty gap that was just starting to grow in. I nodded and said, ¡°Alright. We¡¯re moving. You stay here, kid. You know the signal.¡±

    The kid nodded his head and I stepped out of the shadows.

    Not all that far ahead was a team of two guards on one of the perimeter lengths of the estate. The house and yards were built with the beauty of unscientific workmanship, so there were a lot of odd sides and angles meaning these guys were in a blind spot from the others on outside watch. They saw me pretty quick, and gave me a hail of challenge. They asked who I was, and I just kept walking towards them. Then they pulled out their swords when I got to within twenty paces of them. When they did, I lifted up my hands and froze the movement of all air around their heads.

    The two guards fell into panic as their ability to breathe or call out for help was cut off. One of them lost his head completely, dropped his sword, and started thrashing about trying to free his airways. The second one determined that I was the cause and came at me with his sword. I flicked a hand sideways in a subliminal gesture to strike the man hard in the gut with a solid air sphere. He fell to the ground and didn¡¯t get back up before the rest of my team was on top of him, and he was clobbered with the soldiers'' small shields. When they were confirmed unconscious, I released my magic on them. They started breathing again while the magic soldier of my group started binding their hands with some prepared cords. She was a tall, thin blond with her hair in a ponytail that was what Gwyneth Paltrow would look like if she were more Heartland than Hollywood. What was the name? I¡¯ll remember it later.

    I was given the signal that the hands and legs were all taken care of, and I signaled to the street urchin. In reply, he uttered a whistle that sounded like a loud chirp, followed by a trilling bird cackle. That was the sound for the other teams to begin preliminary approach, and wait for our entry.

    I walked over to a wall, motioned the soldiers to either side of me, and waited a moment to gather my resolve.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Heeeeere¡¯s Johnny¡­¡±

    I flicked my fingers forward and created a shock wave, blasting into the wall of the house that was constructed of wooden siding, what looked like straw for insulation, and plaster for the inner wall. I could tell all that because the entire section of wall exploded into the house when it was struck by the shock wave. The plaster disintegrated a bit, creating a cloud of detritus floating in the air that almost made the image seem as though it were a hallucination. But the explosion of the shock wave and crashing of the wall was too loud for there to be any doubt. My soldiers were slack jawed by the sight, though.

    ¡°Well? Get going, guys.¡±

    At my gentle hint, the four soldiers in my team breached the entry like they were late for a class period. The magic soldier, was it Dolly? She stayed behind with me as her specialty wasn¡¯t going to come into play here. I cleared my throat to grab her attention and said, ¡°My staff?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± she exclaimed, and held it out to me. I took my quarterstaff and said, ¡°Shall we?¡±

    I stepped through the hole in the wall and saw my soldiers ganging up on the guards, two on one exclusively, and then pummeling them with their shields and sword pommels. The soldiers were now wearing their full battle gear. It was their normal armored uniforms with pauldrons, breastplates, and greaves on the upper thighs, but with the addition of gauntlets and elbow pads with strips of ring mail backed by leather connecting all the different parts into place, and hardened leather helms with plates of steel over every applicable surface, including face guards. Even the magic soldier to my right who followed me in had a guard over her face, which I could only see her eyes and the bridge of her nose through.

    No, her name wasn¡¯t Dolly; sounded kinda like it though? Damn, this was gonna bug me.

    The normal soldiers were using their physical reinforcement that was trained by a professional army to instantly overwhelm their enemies. Since they were going for non-fatal attacks, they were parrying with the short swords, and then slamming faces with their round shields that were somewhere between medium and small shields. The guards inside the house were popping up quickly in response to the noise of the explosion, and the resulting melee. Before more than a couple could enter the fracas I heard the front door, back door, and side door for the kitchen get kicked in and the house was being filled with armored green uniformed bodies.

    The other three teams had finished jumping the outside goons and binding them while my team acted as a diversionary assault squad.

    It¡¯s her last name that sounded like Dolly though. Had to be. But what¡¯s the first name?

    I walked past my team¡¯s soldiers who were busy binding the pummeled guards when a wild eyed man with a naked blade in his hand rushed through a door way and instinctively attacked me in his fear fueled state. Unfortunately for him, my Identify Friend / Foe filter was nonexistent in a situation like this, so I just instinctively jabbed the end of my staff into his chest the moment I noticed him coming at me quickly. With the tip of my staff coming to something of an abrupt halt, I lifted the end to snap upwards into his jaw, flicking his head back. I followed this up by swinging the back end of the staff down and into his genitals now that his eyes were elsewhere, namely looking up at the ceiling, and executed a spinning backward strike to the side of his head. The man dropped senseless to the floor as my trailing magic soldier was shouting for me to ¡°Look ou-... oh.¡±

    I was surrounded by shouting, cries of pain, dull thuds and the shattering of furniture and knick knacks. Doors were being kicked open to the sound of splintering wood and the panels impacting on the inside walls. The cries of kitchen staff and house servants echoed as they were being told to get on the floor. Lights were being turned on, flooding rooms with illumination, and some lamps were being shattered, creating uneven patches of darkness here and there.

    I pointed at three men and told them to come with me as I stomped up the stairway. When we reached the top of the stairs, an armed man rounded a corner and charged us. One of the soldiers counter charged and struck the man hard enough with the shield to bodily plunge the guard halfway through a wall of plaster and wooden slating. The guard fell downward where he took a solid kick to the face, and my magic soldier advanced to bind him while he was down.

    ¡°Essay,¡± I asked to the empty air. One of the soldiers advancing with me inquired with a ¡°Sir?¡± I lightly replied, ¡°No, no, don¡¯t tell me, I¡¯ll get it.¡±

    It might be the video games, or the movies, or the fact that I was surrounded by a crack squad of military killers, but I was feeling oddly comfortable in this raid. I was enjoying the chaos around me, picking out the dozen or so mini stories being relayed to me by sound. The adrenaline and excitement was there, my smashing the roaming crazy to pulp was proof of that, but it was now little more than an undercurrent to my living in the moment, interweaving myself into the fabric of everything that was happening around me. I was passively a part of everything, while actively being a part of whatever I chose to be. It was like¡­ yes. It was like I was back on stage again.

    It was the exact same feeling as being in a play. That restless surety that anything and everything could go wrong at any moment, but having absolute confidence that I could adapt and roll with the disaster. That my ability to think on my feet could turn accidents into accolades. I recalled that addictive feeling, one I¡¯d been missing for years, as a door opened beside me and I snapped at a vague human shape with my staff. A person staggered backwards holding their blood streaming nose and I walked, my pace uninterrupted.

    The number of my soldiers on the second floor was nearly in the double digits now, the rest sitting on captives and civilians downstairs.

    Not Essay, but close. Really, really close.

    Then there was Callic, rushing forward. There was blood on his sword, though not a lot, and another splash of blood on the surface of his shield. Callic reached the bedchambers of Nigeman before I could and gave the knob of the double doors a hearty kick that broke the lock, wood and everything, rocketing the doors open like they¡¯d been struck by a battering ram.

    Inside was Nigeman, standing and holding a sword. He was wearing a pair of pajamas that consisted of a shirt and trousers. He had on a quickly fastened leather and metal full torso breastplate and a hard leather cap that was not fastened into place; the leather thong was hanging loose by the chin. Nigeman himself was pretty tall, though a few inches shorter than me. He had a rough scar crossing his lips under his nose, as though he¡¯d taken a brick to the face in a fist fight and it had been fixed with stitches instead of healing magic. The rest of him was pretty nondescript except it was apparent that he had the muscular frame of a fighter and a face that was used to being in control, as Nigeman did not show any panic for being raided like he was.

    ¡°Essea,¡± I said to the air. Essea Dahley, with a hard ¡®e¡¯ and a hard ¡®a¡¯ at the end of the first name. Wow, that was bugging me.

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Essea nervously asked in response to the calling of her name.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s nothing,¡± I muttered offhandedly. Ah, Callic was wasting no time, he already charged Nigeman before I could give him an ultimatum to surrender. Maybe it was for the best as I was a little distracted.

    Callic struck out with his short sword, but Nigeman parried it with his longer blade. Nigeman¡¯s weapon looked like a long sword and had a hilt that could be used one handed or two handed. He was opting to go two handed style, probably since he didn¡¯t have any kind of shield to use on the off hand. Or that was just his original style. I wasn¡¯t really interested in which it was, though. I was just taking in the fight scene before my eyes, waiting for the resolution.

    Callic was showing his mettle as a power based fighter. His timing on his attacks were not meant for using wide swings with his full power, but the extra strength of his frame just naturally made his normal attacks heavier and harder to deal with. I¡¯d seen him exhibit that strength of his in many a sparring practice in the camp, so it was no surprise to me. Callic was working hard to press Nigeman, to try and fatigue the crime boss into showing an opening that Callic could make use of for a finishing blow. The fact that Callic had not overpowered Nigeman already was a testament to the older man¡¯s strength and technique.

    Nigeman was not receiving Callic¡¯s strikes head on, instead he was deflecting and parrying away the attacks, letting Callic¡¯s own innate strength throw off the timing of his strikes. Nigeman was also making use of his longer range to push Callic onto the defense, forcing my sergeant to use his shield for defending instead of attacking. They seemed oddly evenly matched, even with age and preparedness seemingly supposed to be granting an advantage to Callic. Was Nigeman really just some random crook who rose to power? His combat technique was too clean, to refined, for him to not have been trained. And if the sweat on Callic''s brow was an indication, Nigeman¡¯s physical reinforcement was at a pretty decent level.

    ¡°No, no, I want to see how this plays out,¡± I said, stopping a soldier from rushing in to attack Nigeman from behind. I knew it was against my own orders, but this had piqued my curiosity.

    Ah, they entered a deadlock, Nigeman¡¯s sword against Callic¡¯s shield, with Callic holding it with both hands to brace.

    ¡°Stoke the forge and light the furnace of my soul,¡± said Nigeman, with meaning.

    Just as I tilted my head a little in confusion like a dog that was trying to figure out human speech, the edge of Nigeman¡¯s sword turned crimson and the wooden body of Callic¡¯s shield where it touched the sword burst into flame. Callic was understandably surprised, his stance wavered just a tiny bit, and Nigeman used that opening to strike upward, catching the cross guard of his longsword on Callic¡¯s shield, and lifted the shield and Callic¡¯s arms overhead. Nigeman followed through with a quick side slash to Callic¡¯s torso.

    Callic jumped back as much as he could, but he was still cut deep as the sword penetrated the uniform and chain mail like it was slicing bread. It would have been a death wound anyway if I hadn¡¯t reactively fired a hefty air bullet against Nigeman when I saw Callic¡¯s shield get tossed upward. The shock striking Nigeman pushed him back a little, ending up with Callic¡¯s wound being just a deep cut instead of a disemboweling. Even so, Callic was bleeding profusely through a tear in his uniform that was also on fire. Callic patted the fire out, burning his hand in the process while shouting in pain from making his gut wound worse from the repeated impacts. If Nigeman wasn¡¯t wary of me then he¡¯d have had all the time in the world to perform the coup d¡¯grace on Callic.

    Brandishing my staff, I inched around and let Nigeman inch around as well to get some distance between him and Callic. From the sound of things behind me, Iyleen Burkt must have been doting on Callic at the moment, so I called out without turning any of my attention away from Nigeman, ¡°Iyleen, Essea, get Callic to Daphne. Everyone else, form a perimeter and stay frosty. And you Nigeman¡­ who are you really?¡±

    Tonight¡¯s performance just went way off track.

 Chapter 20: Standards

    I stared long and hard into Nigeman¡¯s face. Mainly because that¡¯s what you do in a stand off. You maintain eye contact, you wait for that micro twitch of aggression people show just before they attack. In the process I got a good long look at Nigeman¡¯s emotionless grey eyes, and his mouth that was permanently affixed with a slight snarl because of the scar. The guy¡¯s face was boring as all hell. I was completely bored.

    Very few people understand what a stand off in a one on one fight is, really. People think it¡¯s some kind of dramatic pause before things hit the fan in splashy and explosive ways. Nope. It¡¯s just a pause where both sides are wholly comfortable in the defensive stance they have and feel that going on the attack just isn¡¯t worth it. Nigeman had his sword point extended forward in a two handed guard stance, and even though the edge of the blade no longer glowed red, the tip threatened a thrust or a parry. I had my staff point low, ready for any of a half dozen movements. So we were both really happy with our defensive positions. So it just became a question of who got tired first; either from the depletion of physical stamina, or from the wearing of patience in the unending tension one had to maintain in such a position. I was betting Nigeman would make the first move, letting me go with one of a few favorite counters. Hence the waiting. And the boredom.

    Hey, let¡¯s do something to alleviate the boredom.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I called out to the peanut gallery of soldiers I had making sure the bedroom¡¯s door was blockaded. ¡°If anyone has something to say about Nigeman¡¯s sword, I¡¯d like to hear it.¡±

    There were a few mumbles from the audience before one voice cut out from the crowd in that tone that only arises from first hand knowledge.

    ¡°It¡¯s a Magic Blade,¡± called the voice I was able to place as belonging to Tobias Hateen, the soldier I had knocked out cold in the morgue when I woke from my coma. ¡°It seems like it was made with quartz enchanted with fire magic. They¡¯re really hard to make and pretty hard to come by. Mostly, they¡¯re weapons for nobles and their most important retainers. Only fighting men use them since maintenance is a bitch, and they¡¯re not worth keeping for decoration.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± I said without moving more than an eyebrow. ¡°What powers them? Are they battery operated?¡±

    ¡°How do you not know about Noblesse Blades, Demon Blood,¡± asked Nigeman with a bit of annoyance in his voice.

    ¡°Shush, you,¡± I corrected Nigeman like a misbehaving dog. ¡°C¡¯mon, Tobias, don¡¯t leave me hangin¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh, magic weapons are powered by the people wielding them,¡± answered Tobias back.

    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re saying he can use physical reinforcement and regu-oh!¡±

    Crap! I turned my head slightly, I was so surprised. Nigeman didn¡¯t miss that opportunity to take a long step in and lunge for my throat. Thankfully, one of the greatest benefits of the horse stance is that it grants the fastest backstep movement of any known standing or combat stance¡­ that I know of. So as Nigeman was taking his long, manly, step forward, I put my power into my thighs to, kinda, sideways skip backwards. Hey, it works, alright!

    As my feet left the carpeting, I took a sideways swipe intended to catch Nigeman on the knuckles of his right hand, but the man had turned the cross guard of his sword in his thrust and my staff bounced off ineffectually. Thankfully, Nigeman¡¯s sword point didn¡¯t quite reach my throat, but the man wasn¡¯t about to give up on the advantage of attack. The momentum of his thrust turned up and a little sideways, to be turned into a downwards cross slash, one that I barely dodged. That cross slash turned into a sideways cut like what had nearly eviscerated Callic that I slapped away with my staff before it could build any momentum, and counter thrust into the momentary opening of Nigeman¡¯s defense. Nigeman wasn¡¯t able to dodge it as the tip of my- aw, crap. I just used the staff as though it were a spear.

    The thunk of my wooden staff as it struck Nigeman¡¯s breastplate seemed farcical to me as the armor completely cancelled out the force of my strike, and the wood bowed a bit under the power of the hit. Nigeman smiled that smile that seemed to say, ¡°thanks for doing the work for me,¡± and brought his sword down in a cleaving swing. My staff end was in the hollow between Nigeman¡¯s arms and I swung sideways to catch Nigeman¡¯s left elbow with a pathetically underpowered strike, but it was just enough to turn the sword¡¯s course to dodge clear of the swing.

    I used the hard earned lesson of just now, and decided that I was not going for the mid-body again. Metal armor beat the wooden staff like scissors beat paper. So it was just the head and limbs for this fight.

    After getting back to my optimal range, I planted a foot and swung for Nigeman¡¯s right elbow. Nigeman blocked with his sword, hard, cutting into the quarterstaff and leaving a deep nick in the wood. With the force Nigeman had put into the block, my swing was stopped cold, so I followed through on my plan to utilize the staff¡¯s most useful aspect, the fact that it had two ends.

    I shuffled the foot I had not put weight on behind my planted foot and performed a backwards spin, the back end of my quarterstaff gaining speed as I aimed for Nigeman¡¯s unprotected left side of his head. The impact was jarring, and my hands slightly numbed as the back end of my staff struck the ornate bedpost of Nigeman¡¯s bed instead of his head, and my grip on the staff slipped. The staff bent and recoiled right out of my grip, much to the amusement of Nigeman, who was confused for a moment before releasing as single loud belly laugh.

    Yeah. I forgot that quarterstaffs are not exactly indoors friendly. If I survived this, I might just die of embarrassment.

    Before I could recover from the numbness of my hands, Nigeman took a step to get his bed behind me, block my avenues of escape. Didn¡¯t really matter if he did or not, the impact with the bedpost broke my stance for dodging, so I did something a little bit reckless and struck out with a side kick to Nigeman¡¯s body. My left foot impacted against Nigeman¡¯s breastplate with a heavier sound of impact than the quarterstaff had elicited. I¡¯d kicked out while off balance, so the kick wasn¡¯t going to do much damage, but it did do what I wanted and it helped propel me backwards. Unfortunately, it did little to ward off Nigeman¡¯s horizontal swing. I brought up my left arm to protect my face as I was falling backwards.

    I felt the impact of the sword across my arm. From the bicep to the forearm, I felt the sword as it dragged across my flesh. My back struck the surface of the bed and I flung my legs up into the air to simultaneously ward off Nigeman and build the momentum to roll backwards from the bed and land on my feet on the other side of the mattress. As I looked up, I saw Nigeman getting ready to bound over the bed to perform a finishing cleave on me, and I reflexively flicked out my hands to send a shockwave into the leaping Nigeman, catching him mid-bound and throwing him to the other side of the room where he crashed into some furniture, including a dresser with a mirror attached to the wall above it. The impact unseated the framed mirror and it dropped with a loud crack, as a fissure formed from one corner of the glass to the other. Unfortunately, the mirror did not fall on top of Nigeman, but instead ended up resting against the wall. Pity, that.

    Oh, yeah.

    I used the brief moment of space I had bought to inspect my arm. It felt like it handled pretty well for the magic, but I would definitely need to stop the bleeding.

    ...There¡¯s no bleeding?

    There was a low chuckling from Nigeman as he stood back up. I noticed that somehow my kick had left a bootprint shaped dent in his breastplate, but he didn¡¯t seem to care about that. Instead, Nigeman said, amused, ¡°To have Noblesse Armor when you don¡¯t even know about Noblesse Blades? I¡¯d suspected before, Demon Blood, but now I know. You¡¯re not actually military at all, are you?¡±

    Noblesse Armor? The jacket, I guess? Okay, gift horse, mouth, not bleeding. Roll with it.

    I tilted one of my hands to wrap some solidified air around the haft of my quarterstaff and flung it up into the air. The other hand I flicked a little to have some more solidified air fling the staff towards me. I grabbed it from the air and did a little pirouette while spinning the staff in vertical trajectories so as not to get caught on the furniture again. I planted my feet facing the end of my staff at Nigeman across the bed.

    ¡°Well, Nigeman. Looks like your sword, fancy as it is, is useless against me,¡± for whatever reason. ¡°I suggest you give it up and come along quietly.¡±

    ¡°Listen up, you Demon Blooded twit,¡± said Nigeman as he slowly paced to the head of his bed.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re reduced to name calling,¡± I remarked smugly.

    ¡°What else should I call a mage that jumps into close combat?¡±

    ¡°Your better?¡±

    ¡°¡®Better¡¯ nothing,¡± said Nigeman, with nothing but menace in his voice. He obviously hadn¡¯t given up. ¡°Open your fool ears and listen well, because you have no idea what your reckless idiocy has brought upon you this day. Come dawn, I will bring death down upon you and your people. No one attacks me and lives to tell about it.¡±

    Nigeman then lashed out his hand and pulled a thick cord hanging down from the wall next to the head of his bed. The sound of an explosion rang out, and the room was filled with an impenetrable smoke.

    * * * * *

    Daphne had only just finished the initial treatment of Callic when the explosion occurred. Aase, Daphne, Callic, Gina, Iyleen, and Essea all lifted their heads in unison to see large clouts of smoke blasting through the windows of one of the rooms of Nigeman¡¯s mansion. As the shattered glass began tinkling against the ground, shattering further, Gina said in an attempt at an offhand manner, ¡°Don¡¯t think that was a part of the mission plan.¡±

    Half numbed and half panicked, Aase asked, ¡°Is everyone okay? You think Xander needs our help?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m more concerned about my men,¡± grunted Callic over the pain of his flesh being mended by magic.

    ¡°That was Wind Magic,¡± said Essea, unable to keep a tone of wonder out of her voice.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure,¡± asked Iyleen, who had sensed something but couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on it.

    ¡°I might not be very strong,¡± said Essea, nodding her head, ¡°But I definitely know my own magic attribute when I feel it, and that definitely felt like Mr. Xander¡¯s Wind Magic. Whatever just happened, Mr. Xander is definitely on top of things.¡±

    * * * * *

    ¡°What the hell did you just do, Demon Blood,¡± demanded Nigeman.

    ¡°Hey, Asshat,¡± I replied back. ¡°I don¡¯t have any demon in me, and I¡¯m frankly getting a little sick of you and your punk ass mouth.¡±

    As for what I did in response to Nigeman blasting a smoke bomb and filling the entire room with a smokescreen, I just threw my power out to create a back-draft effect from the lower floor of the house and the open doors to pour into this room, super charging the air pressure, and blasting all the smoke through the windows as they shattered from the difference in air pressure; since I sincerely doubted this world had hurricane proofing for anything they built. Hmm. Maybe that field trip my college took my class to in that window factory was more helpful than I thought it was.

    ¡°But you know, Punk Ass, you were right about one thing. I should have been using my magic from the start.¡±

    Like a frikkin¡¯ Jedi, I tucked my quarterstaff into the crook of my right armpit and pushed my left palm towards Nigeman, firing a shock wave into Nigeman¡¯s face that was intended to knock some teeth loose, at the very least.

    ¡°STOKE,¡± shouted Nigeman. The edge of his sword lit up as red as a heating element for a moment as Nigeman brought his sword down in a chop, bisecting my shockwave. The magic was severed and dispersed into energy I couldn¡¯t use any more.

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, failing to mask my utter amazement. ¡°Apparently, that¡¯s a thing that can be done. But, I still have Mage Armor, so-¡±

    ¡°Sir,¡± called Tobias from the sidelines.

    ¡°Yeah, Tobias,¡± I verbally snapped at the intrusion.

    ¡°Fire Magic Blades can easily cut through Mage Armors when their element is active, sir.¡±

    Fuck.

    Nigeman gave a cocky tilt of his head and an eyebrow at that news as well.

    ¡°Anything else you¡¯d like to share while we have a moment, Tobias?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yes, sir. Magic Blades are powered by collecting your physical reinforcement magic into the hand holding them, activating the quartz receptors in the grip. The power consumption isn¡¯t that good, since the sword is turning one kind of magic into another. It¡¯s why Nigeman¡¯s only been using his sword¡¯s ability sparingly, he doesn¡¯t want his magic reservoir to run dry.¡±

    Finally, Nigeman made a face like he was sucking on a lemon and said, ¡°How the hell do you know all this?¡±

    ¡°My dad¡¯s a blacksmith, man. A good one. For all I know, he made that sword you¡¯re using right now.¡±

    ¡°Well, that is interesting, Tobias. Thanks,¡± I said exaggeratedly, just to rub Nigeman¡¯s nose in it. ¡°So, I guess it¡¯s just a fight of attrition here, Nigeman. And I¡¯m not about to let you run away.¡±

    ¡°Balls to that,¡± said Nigeman with renewed aggression. ¡°That just means I have to stop dragging my feet and go straight through you. Stoke the forge and light the furnace of my soul!¡±

    Nigeman¡¯s sword flared to life as he leapt clear over his king sized bed to bring his sword down at me in a blur of motion. I spun out of the way and tried to bring the back end of my staff up into him, but he blocked the strike with his sword. I rebounded and struck out a few more times as I backpedaled away from Nigeman, and I heard something like a hiss of steam each time the wood touched the blade. I soon saw that the surface of my quarterstaff was filling with black sear marks and large nicks were showing along its length. Nigeman was almost literally chewing through my weapon with his sword.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    The springiness of a staff was one of the things that allowed it to go against metal weapons, because when a sharp blade struck it, the pliable wood would absorb and disperse some of the kinetic force behind the attack. But here, Nigeman had a sword that burned its way through objects instead of splitting them with force and a blunted cutting edge. So I was stuck with an inferior weapon, in a confined space where I couldn¡¯t use any horizontal attacks without risking getting caught on the furniture, and here Nigeman was using a-

    Wait a tic.

    It took a few seconds, a few swings of the staff, and a rather ungainly backstep to get a bit of room, but I got the distance I needed, choked down on my grip to put a little more length into the staff I was about to swing, and went for a diagonal strike towards Nigeman¡¯s collarbone. A very obvious attack, with a lot of commitment behind it. Nigeman couldn¡¯t resist it, he¡¯d been smiling so smugly every time he took a chip out of my staff. Nigeman took the bait, and chopped my quarterstaff hard, cutting clean through and taking about a foot and a half off it¡¯s length.

    Nigeman smiled at me for having dealt serious damage to my staff. But the thing is, a quarterstaff is just a bit of wood that was always meant to be trimmed to the length the user needed. So I smiled back, with an even broader smirk, and said, ¡°Thank you, Punk Ass.¡±

    I immediately went back on the offensive. Now that the length of my staff was shorter, I didn¡¯t have to worry about things like getting blocked by furniture, or getting snagged on the ceiling. I was spinning about like a top, jabbing and stabbing every time I was facing Nigeman¡¯s way, and sending back swings whenever I wasn¡¯t. I twirled the staff around my neck after a feint at Nigeman¡¯s left shoulder, and planted a hard strike to the right one.

    With the reduced length of the staff, I was getting right up in Nigeman¡¯s grill, swinging my attacks faster than before and getting my legs in on the action. I very nearly was able to stomp on Nigeman¡¯s outstretched left foot, but his shuffling back to avoid it was a panicky movement that threw him off balance enough for me to get a shot in at his head. My mini-staff cracked Nigeman¡¯s left temple, but his helmet took enough of the blow that it only rattled his cage a little, and Nigeman started his own counterattack.

    Nigeman¡¯s movements changed. He started shuffling side to side and advancing with his guard up solid instead of going for killing blows. He was advancing, but not attacking. It took a few seconds, but I understood what he was doing. Thanks to the years of training at the dojo, I¡¯d been exposed to a lot of sparring and tournament matches. Nigeman¡¯s movements reminded me of this one brown belt at the school, who was fairly slow on his feet, but could corner anyone that was faster than him. The way he did it was to trap them in the corner, and his opponents would either fall out of the ring in disgrace or take a finishing blow.

    Nigeman was herding me in order to trap me in a corner.

    But noticing that was not much of an improvement in my situation. The room was already tight enough that I had to cut down on the length of my staff just to get some licks in on Nigeman, and the force of a quarterstaff wasn¡¯t doing much against his armor combined with whatever physical reinforcement the guy had going on. The only way I was going to keep from getting pinned against a wall was if I kept doing crazy Jackie Chan style stunts with Nigeman¡¯s furniture. And speaking of.

    I made a break and took a jump to my side. Nigeman slashed at me, but narrowly missed because I dove low, and he swung at about chest height. I crashed onto some tiny sort of breakfast table, sending a small vase with a flower in it flying into the ground as I rolled my shoulder blades over the table¡¯s surface. I landed with my feet under me and tossed out a magic shock wave at Nigeman to cover my withdrawal. Nigeman once again cut through it with his sword, scattering the magic. Which was totally something he shouldn¡¯t have been able to do considering it¡¯s an invisible magic blast of vibrating air! It should have been traveling faster than reflexes can react, so how the heck was he intercepting my magic?

    While having this thought, I turned my palm upwards to look at it in vexation. Then I had the thought.

    Crap. I was hamming it up too much.

    If I¡¯m flinging my hands around every time I use magic, then of course Nigeman is gonna know what I¡¯m doing and when. My stage acting experience ended up getting me in trouble, because I didn¡¯t need to use my hands to use magic. When I did the backdraft effect just a little while ago, I just poured out a bunch of magic from my own body all at once to power the spell. Which meant I could cast magic without using my hands.

    Wow. That was really gonna open up a lot of options¡­

    I couldn¡¯t help but feel a smile spread across my face and my eyes narrowed from the extreme upturning of my lips. Honestly, it¡¯d been awhile since I¡¯d felt that kind of smile cross my face. It was the one that would always creep up when I felt like I could release all of my restraint, and lose myself in violence. I think the last time I smiled like this was when I was playing Dishonored.

    I began circulating all the magic in my body and releasing it from every square inch of my flesh. My senses of the world around me seemed to become sharper, more aware and more sensitive. It was an odd feeling, like shifting from being in a first person shooter to third person. But I wasn¡¯t seeing anything new. I was just able to feel what was around and behind me. I very nearly released a Keanu Reeves ¡°Wow¡± from the sensation.

    But the most important point in my releasing and dispersing my magic in the air¡­ was that I was still able to control it.

    Nigeman took a step forward, and while his foot was still moving I lunged in hard. Nigeman parried my staff thrust to the side as he completed his step, until a rod I¡¯d made with my ambient magical power struck him behind his knee. Nigeman lost his balance as I pushed in further and twisted my staff to force Nigeman¡¯s sword away from me. Using the side of Nigeman¡¯s sword as a pivot point, I lifted and swung an end of the staff to strike Nigeman¡¯s cheek. Nigeman¡¯s head bounced, but without even confirming my location he retaliated with a shoulder check that smacked me away from him. With Nigeman¡¯s sword free, he advanced again with the intent to attack while I was off balance.

    Instead of dodging reflexively, I started making spheres out of my ambient magical power in the air and throwing them at Nigeman, specifically for him to cut through with his sword. These attacks were not meant to inflict harm, but to distract Nigeman and drain his magic reservoir. While he was busy dealing with the spheres, I formed and fired a much smaller cone into Nigeman¡¯s foot at point blank range. Coming to a sharp point, the cone was able to penetrate Nigeman¡¯s foot easily enough, though it didn¡¯t have enough force to nail through the foot entirely and secure Nigeman to the floor. It was, however, extremely painful. I sort of tied down the magic power of the cone and left it there in the foot in order to cause as much pain as possible through the pressure it was putting on the bones and joints.

    Nigeman began obviously favoring a foot, and his powerful fighting stance had been broken. I pushed in again, swinging my shortened staff to aim for the shoulders, elbows, wrists, and knuckles. Nigeman¡¯s combat stance had been broken, but he had enough physical strength in his arms to swing his sword accurately, if not powerfully, and most of my attacks were blocked. Eventually, Nigeman was able to get a parry in that caused my staff to slide down the surface of his magic sword. The wood near the edge of the blade hissed and lit on fire from the proximity to the active fire element. If it was just that, I wouldn¡¯t have cared. I could use wind to snuff out a fire anytime I wanted. No. Nigeman used that brief moment of stillness in my weapon to grab the haft in his offhand to hold me in place. He pulled back his sword which was still in his right hand to swing down at me at extreme close range, probably depending on the vaporizing abilities of the magically empowered cutting edge instead of strength to deal a deathblow.

    I grunted out a laugh at Nigeman¡¯s thinking process. It wasn¡¯t stupid, but it showed a clear misunderstanding on his part, and a lack of observation skills. I¡¯d already showed Nigeman that I didn¡¯t mind adjusting the length of my staff, after all.

    I fired a short range shock wave into Nigeman¡¯s sword hand from directly below, sending the descending sword right back up as I focused some physical reinforcement into my right hand, which I then struck the haft of my own staff with. Since my shortened quarterstaff was now being held solidly by myself and Nigeman, two definite points of contact, the part of the staff between those two points could not bend, rendering it rigid. My reinforced palm shattered the wood, releasing my remaining staff length from Nigeman¡¯s grasp, and then I pushed that same palm directly into Nigeman¡¯s chest, pushing him back with dull impact force.

    Nigeman stumbled back and I used that chance to use my magic to float and then toss the previously cut span of my staff into my free right hand. I caught the flying span of wood while doing a retreating spin step to end up resting on my right foot, with my left foot raised and resting, toes pointed downward, at about the height of my knee. Each of my hands held a length of what had previously been a staff, but were now twin batons, up and pointed towards Nigeman. One close to my eyes like a drawn arrow, the other pointed forward like a pistol. It¡¯d been a while, but I think it was called the Crane Stance. It looked fairly ridiculous and imposing at the same time. And Nigeman obviously had no idea what to make of it.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, Punk Ass,¡± I taunted. ¡°Let¡¯s finish this.¡±

    Nigeman advanced on me, probably feeling a sense of urgency now that I¡¯d been doing real damage to him. He didn¡¯t go for any big sweeping attacks, but for a small and contained slash at my right side. I used my upraised leg to perform an extremely long forward step, swung the baton in my left hand to strike Nigeman¡¯s right knuckles, diverting the sword away from me, and brought the baton in my right hand over Nigeman¡¯s arm to give a love tap to his forehead.

    I slipped around behind Nigeman with that movement as well, and gave his back a solid kick from behind to push him forward to impact against the edge of the bed. Striking the bedside didn¡¯t do any damage, but it caused him to lean forward. Nigeman instinctively took his left hand off the hilt of his sword to brace himself against the cushy bed¡¯s surface and push off to turn around. I don¡¯t really know if I could say I had planned this out, but I took advantage of the moment.

    I fired another cone of magical power into the back of Nigeman¡¯s right hand, the tip digging into the flesh while I pounced on Nigeman¡¯s back, pushing him face first onto the bed. With the man sprawling on the bed¡¯s surface, I slammed my strengthened right fist into the flat top surface of the cone in Nigeman¡¯s hand, hammering it through and potentially breaking ligaments and bone. Whatever the damage, it caused Nigeman to let go of his sword. The sword instantly lost it¡¯s red light and harmlessly flopped onto the bed¡¯s surface. Nigeman braced with his left arm and threw an elbow with his right, catching me in the ribs. But I was not about to give Nigeman a chance to grab his sword again, and I hooked my left baton across Nigeman¡¯s neck and my right baton into the crook of his elbow. With those points of control established, I hauled my weight upwards and brought Nigeman with me, turning him to face away from the bed. After that, it became something of a grappling match, with Nigeman¡¯s left hand pulling at the baton around his neck to keep his airway clear, and his right arm maneuvering to get free of my restraint.

    I wasn''t much for grappling. My body was long and I¡¯d always had a fear that that made my bones less sturdy than a stout man¡¯s because of it. That¡¯s why I always preferred striking over wrestling. So to get out of the grappling match, I stomped down hard with my foot onto the cone that was still protruding from Nigeman¡¯s foot. With my full body weight behind the stomp, the cone pierced all the way through Nigeman¡¯s foot and stapled him to the floor. As Nigeman howled in pain, I dropped my knee into the back of Nigeman¡¯s uninjured leg, knocking him onto the floor. With that advantage in height, I uncoiled my right baton from his elbow and while pulling up with the left around the neck to point Nigeman¡¯s face upward, I struck my right baton into Nigeman¡¯s face three or four times.

    I put my knee into Nigeman¡¯s back, and forced him face first onto the floor. I dropped my right baton and used my magic to lift and toss Callic¡¯s dropped short sword into my grip. My left hand released my other baton and grabbed Nigeman¡¯s forehead over the helmet and lifted, exposing a good amount of throat. I brought up the short sword and said, ¡°Say Goodnight, Gracie.¡±

    ¡°WAIT,¡± shouted Nigeman in a voice hoarse from the strain of speaking through an extended windpipe. ¡°You, you can¡¯t kill me! Alright!¡±

    ¡°I can easily kill you, Nigeman. I have a sword and everything.¡±

    ¡°No, that¡¯s- that¡¯s not-¡± I pulled on Nigeman¡¯s head a little harder. And then Nigeman spilled out his secret in a voice drenched with desperation. ¡°Okay, look! The truth is- I¡¯m in service to Lord Bahwell.¡±

    ¡°You work for Lord Bowel,¡± I said at nearly the same time.

    ¡°Wha-? You knew?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I explained emotionlessly, as though I was recounting the points in a stale plot line. ¡°I surmised. First there was obviously some relation between you and Bowel, since you¡¯ve been sending him gifts, ostensibly payment from your protection racket. The military stationed in the city would do nothing to reign you in, meaning the Lord of the city, their superior, ordered them not to, further proving you have a connection to Bowel.¡±

    ¡°Bah-Well.¡±

    ¡°Second, you called the Magic Blade you used a Noblesse Blade. That¡¯s a pretty damn highfalutin term for the thing, coming from a criminal. One that even the blacksmiths who make the weapons don¡¯t use. Third, you have a fucking smoke bomb built into your bedroom! That¡¯s some spy quality shit, there. Fourth, the instant you realized we weren¡¯t military, you went all smug, like that fact changed everything, even though we¡¯d crushed all the men defending your home. So that said to me that you could call on Lord Bowel and use the military in the city to come after us. Legitimately. For impersonating military officers.¡±

    ¡°Bah-Well.¡±

    ¡°And finally, you fight way to well with a sword far too above your station if you were a criminal. So, I surmised that you¡¯re a vassal knight in service to Lord Bowel that he has running his protection racket for him.¡±

    ¡°Bah. Well.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care what his name is!¡± I shouted and slapped the side of Nigeman¡¯s head with the flat of the blade. ¡°So, with that out of the way, time for me to slit your throat.¡±

    ¡°WAIT! Wait, wait, wait!¡±

    ¡°What now,¡± I asked Nigeman testily.

    ¡°You said it yourself. Ugh. I¡¯m Lord Bahwell¡¯s retainer. You think he¡¯ll stay quiet if you kill me?¡±

    ¡°Of course he will. You¡¯re a disposable source of income to him. And even if he did hold a grudge, I¡¯m splitting this taco stand before he has the chance to retaliate. Now if that¡¯s all¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll serve you!¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll, grah, I¡¯ll serve you instead of Bahwell. You experienced it yourself, right? How strong I am? I¡¯d make a good, uh, bodyguard, or warrior, or- ngg- whatever you need. Just think about it, alright?¡±

    Well, thinking wasn¡¯t gonna cost me anything but time. And Nigeman wasn¡¯t going anywhere. So¡­

    There were definitely advantages. Nigeman had shown he was strong in combat, was a leader of men, and good at following someone else¡¯s plan. He was intelligent, skillful, capable, and strong. On further reflection, he¡¯d make an excellent subordinate. And even if he was planning to leave me the first chance he got and return to Lord Bowel¡¯s side, I could use an Enslavement Collar on him to make sure he couldn¡¯t. There¡¯s no way that Nigeman could have planned for me having Enslavement Collars.

    I slammed the blade of the short sword directly into the artery on the side of Nigeman¡¯s neck, let go of his forehead, and put my full weight into the knee on Nigeman¡¯s back. The hand that had been holding Nigeman¡¯s head up, I started using it to pin his head down to keep the arterial spray of blood from splashing around too much.

    ¡°Sorry Nigeman, but I have standards in who I choose to be my subordinates. You never should have threatened to kill the people I care about.¡±

    Nigeman thrashed around on the ground, furiously trying to staunch the flow from his neck, buck me off his back, and stand up from his prone position on the floor. The trouble was, he was trying to do all those things at once, and none of them worked because of it. After a little bit, Nigeman stopped moving, and I removed my hand from his head to check the pulse in his neck. Nothing.

    I slowly stood up and looked myself over. There was only a little blood on my right sleeve from when I¡¯d slashed Nigeman¡¯s throat. I could get it off easily enough with some water and a towel. For the rest of me, no apparent damage. I looked up from my self check and looked around a little at the devastated bedroom. The damage was pretty bad, the only furniture that wasn¡¯t ruined to some degree was the bed. While checking the damage to the room, my eyes came into direct contact with the mirror that had fallen off the wall. Staring directly back at me was my own reflection.

    I stared long and hard into my own face, split into two halves by the crack. I maintained eye contact, waiting for any sign of emotion on that cold and determined visage I saw in the mirror, but saw only my emotionless red eyes, and a mouth that was affixed with a disgruntled frown. I maintained that gaze as though I were waiting for the other guy to blink for a while before breaking off to look at the soldiers standing at the entrance to the room.

    I unconsciously sized them up for a few seconds, trying to figure out what they were thinking, what they were feeling, to just stand around and do nothing while I was looking in the mirror. I gave up thinking about it and tersely gave out some orders.

    ¡°Tobias, collect the Magic Blade and whatever you need to perform maintenance on it. I want a volunteer to go alert Aase¡¯s group that it¡¯s clear to come in. Everyone else, start tearing the place apart. I¡¯m gonna find a bathroom and clean this shit off me.¡±

    I walked past the soldiers as they saluted and affirmed their orders with a ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± On my way to a room that seemed likely to be a toilet, one thought rattled around my head that I expressed alongside a sigh.

    ¡°Haaa. This world brings out the worst in me.¡±

 Chapter 21: Leadership

    ¡°I totally believe this coat is magic, because the blood just washes right off,¡± I said as though I were a paid spokesperson to no one in particular inside the wash room. I had to ruin a towel in the process, but since it wasn¡¯t mine I could care less. I also took the opportunity of the bathroom to check myself over for damage. I had a red mark on my chest where I¡¯d been elbowed by Nigeman and some sore ribs. My left arm had a mark that was already bruising where I¡¯d almost been cut by the sword. Other than the adrenaline crash after the fight, I was otherwise unharmed.

    ¡°Magic~ Coat~,¡± I sang to myself like I was an infomercial as I opened the door and walked out of Nigeman¡¯s private bathroom. Which even in this nice place was a chamberpot affair. ¡°Okay guys, you¡¯re up.¡±

    As I said that, two of my soldiers saluted and entered the bathroom. Shortly after, there was the sound of crashing as they started tearing apart everything inside the bathroom, including the walls. I took the opportunity to inspect the bedroom that had previously been torn up by the fight, and was now trashed beyond recognition.

    ¡°Find anything,¡± I asked as I walked up to the only soldier left in the room that could have been Essea. Everyone still had their helmets on, so I couldn¡¯t be positive. Ah, she was holding a nice looking box in her hands.

    ¡°Oh, yes, sir. There seems to be a safe under the carpet over here. There was also a box in the closet with formal jewelry. I don¡¯t think we found anything else of value in the bedroom, though...¡±

    I nodded and said, ¡°Ah, so it was you, Essea. Welcome back.¡±

    ¡°Uh¡­ thank you, sir?¡±

    ¡°Welcome. Whelp, let¡¯s crack this thing open.¡±

    I took a closer look at my target. It was a circular panel floor safe. Combination dial with 100 numbers on it. The dial was flat, and there was a handle sunk into an indentation in the armored panel. Everything about this safe was designed to be hardy and keep everyone and everything from springing it open, while keeping every feature as flat as possible. Heh, even the hinges were sunken into the front panel. I dare say, from an engineering standpoint, this thing was a work of art designed to be hidden under a fancy rectangular carpet. Now, to destroy it.

    ¡°How¡­ are you going to do that, sir? I don¡¯t think we have the equipment for that¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, the same way as I did last time. By¡­ actually, you know what? Let¡¯s try something different.¡±

    I remembered that I had to put a LOT of effort into opening the safe in Lumpy¡¯s bedroom. That was because I was exerting force on it from the outside, and safes were designed to fight against exactly that. But they¡¯re not designed to ward off force exerted from the inside.

    I released my magic into the air and directed it down. My senses expanded, and I felt the air, the floor, and the metal of the safe. I infused my magic into the safe, and past it, into the air that was within the safe. Once my magic was reaching into the thing¡¯s internals, I could feel the displacement of air within, designating objects inside. I solidified some of the air to a hard enough constitution to push these objects aside and make some room in the center of the safe¡¯s bottom. I put more magic into the safe, and accumulated it into the form of a cylinder that had both ends touching the bottom of the safe and the underside of the safe¡¯s armored panel respectively. Then, I slowly started increasing the height.

    The basic idea was like that of a carjack. I ramped magic into the cylinder to give it more pressure against the underside of the armored panel, one pump of magic at a time. It worked out surprisingly well, as my magic-jack gained purchase and began making headway on the panel. Before long, the panel of the safe groaned, then started to deform, before finally popping open with a bang. A pretty loud bang, too. To my credit, I didn¡¯t really jump when it happened, but I did wince. Essea, though, I don¡¯t think she even flinched. I might be wrong, but I think I heard a gasp of admiration come from her. She also spent the whole time I was working my magic (I never thought I would say that in an un-ironic statement) staring at the safe, as though she could tell what I was doing. Well, that would make her the first one aside from myself. And she didn¡¯t even exclaim ¡°impossible¡± while I was doing it. I can¡¯t tell you how much I appreciate that.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what we have here,¡± I said as I scooped out the safe¡¯s contents. I righted the breakfast table and it¡¯s chair, sat, and invited Essea to take the other chair. When she did, I said, ¡°The helmet too, please. Make yourself comfortable.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    ¡°The combat is over and I prefer looking people in the face. Please.¡±

    She did so, looking a bit uncomfortable in the doing, and she sat rigidly. I didn¡¯t know anyone could sit at attention, but I think she did. ...She probably regarded me as an authority figure, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Ah, well.

    I dumped the contents of the bags I¡¯d pulled out of Nigeman¡¯s safe and poured them onto the table, carefully. The larger bag held a lot of Sul coins. There was a lot of silver coins there, but all the rest were the whole Sul coins. Not a single one was gold. The smaller bag held gemstones. The sizes and cuts were inferior to the ones from Lumpy¡¯s safe, but there was a lot of them all the same. But then again, did every dickweed in this world have a bug out stash of cash? Was it a world where you needed to be ready to flee with a sack of gold at a moment¡¯s notice? But ya know, it said a lot to his credit that Nigeman went for his sword and armor first instead of his wad of cash. Still didn¡¯t make him a halfway decent person, though.

    ¡°Well, okay then,¡± I said mostly to myself, then addressed Essea. ¡°I¡¯ll pack up the Sul, you repack the gems, okay?¡±

    ¡°Is that really okay sir?!¡±

    The hell? Essea¡¯s jumpy exclamation was so reactive and hurried that it felt like there wasn¡¯t even any punctuation in it. Essea¡¯s eyes were goggled and she really seemed quite shocked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said carefully. ¡°Is there some problem?¡±

    ¡°No, no! Sir! I just¡­ I just, I¡¯ve never seen so much money before. It¡¯s- it¡¯s really¡­ I dunno¡­¡±

    ¡°...Imposing?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yes, sir. Imposing. I¡¯m imposed, sir.¡±

    ...Essea may have something of an inferiority complex. And she kinda flailed her arms around a little when she was flustered. Let¡¯s hope it didn¡¯t go from cute to annoying.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine Essea, please help me with this.¡±

    Essea¡¯s hands trembled a little as she helped me with the packing. After that, I told her to carry the bags and men¡¯s jewelry directly to Janette for inventory. I plopped the bags into Essea¡¯s helmet for easy transport and had her carry it like a bucket. Essea was trembling and overly tense as she carried the plunder out of the room. I couldn¡¯t help but find it funny and cute. She may make my sadistic tendencies flare up from time to time. Let¡¯s hope I don¡¯t make her life too miserable.

    As I was watching Essea¡¯s back disappear through the bedroom door, heading for the stairs, the two soldiers who¡¯d been wrecking things in the bathroom came out and reported that they¡¯d finished. Nothing of value found.

    ¡°In that case, gather up Nigeman¡¯s clothes. I¡¯m claiming those as plunder as well,¡± I replied, indicating the articles strewn on the ground in piles.

    ¡°His clothes, sir?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ll need as much civilian clothing as we can get in the near future.¡±

    I left the pair of soldiers to it as I stood up and arbitrarily flipped over the breakfast table onto a pile of rubble that had once been wall plaster. Exiting the bedroom, I walked down the hall until I got called out to by another soldier. Uhhh, Zent? He found another box of man jewelry in- what?

    ¡°Who¡¯s room?¡±

    ¡°The son¡¯s room. Nigeman¡¯s son.¡±

    ¡°Nigeman had a kid?¡±

    Wow, I was starting to feel like a bastard now. No one said Nigeman was a father.

    ¡°Uh, yes, sir. You saw him before.¡±

    ¡°What? When?¡±

    ¡°When you broke his nose, sir.¡±

    Oh! That guy! Dude was a full ass adult. He was still living with his father? Is it that mafioso leeching kinda thing? Pampered as long as he stayed near the money? Okay, no longer feeling bad.

    ¡°Well, take the jewelry, but leave him his clothes.¡±

    ¡°Uh. O-Kaaaay. I mean, yes, sir!¡±

    I proceeded to the other end of the top floor and poked my head in. Turned out the room was a study or office. There was a desk with papers on top of it and in the opened drawers that the person who was rifling through them had abandoned as unimportant. But seriously¡­

    ¡°What the hell are you doing here, Mercy?¡± I demanded.

    ¡°Hmm? Well, I thought I might be able to help somehow,¡± she said, turning her head up from studying the papers in the desk. ¡°And I think I have. I¡¯ve found some papers that appear to be a set of balance books, with payment notations. Nothing specific, and I¡¯m not actually sure if all the numbers add up, but some of the initials appear like they may denote specific people or organizations. Or maybe other criminal networks? Or bribes! Oh, wait, this one is for a tailor. Maybe? I think I¡¯ll need to start over from the beginning. Umm¡­ where was the beginning again¡­¡±

    I stepped forward and interrupted Mercy, asking, ¡°Mercy, how did you get those, and do you have any idea how to read them?¡±

    ¡°Oh, they were in the locked drawer of this desk. Dellon over there broke it open for me when I asked him to.¡±

    Dellon turned to wave from his position in front of the bookcase where he was checking books to see if they were hollow and then dumping them on the ground.

    ¡°And as for being able to make sense of the books, I think I¡¯m getting somewhere. You see this red ink? I think it means it¡¯s an illegal income, because red is the color of blood. So it¡¯s blood money, see?¡±

    I rubbed the bridge of my nose hard, staving off a brain aneurysm. ¡°Mercy,¡± I said trying to keep from slapping her upside the head. ¡°Red ink means an outgoing payment. You can check it against the totals on the right side of the page.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Then no, I have no idea what I¡¯m reading.¡±

    I only somewhat harshly closed the book that Mercy was reading and said in a very strained gentleness, ¡°Please help Dellon with going through the books. And anything that¡¯s fiction, history, or education, too, I guess, I want those for myself.¡± She meant well this time, she really did.

    ¡°Then we¡¯re gonna have a lot to pick up off the floor,¡± said Dellon over his shoulder. He then turned around and said, ¡°We finished tearing the rest of the furniture apart in the room, and checked the walls. Gilda said nothing was in there, so we skipped breaking them open.¡± Oh, Gilda was the earth mage in the group. I guess there really was no point in ruining the plaster work if she could just magic sense the walls like that. ¡°But there is a rather large safe in this room.¡±

    Dellon pointed over towards it. It was a free standing pedestal safe that was half as large as a person and rectangular in shape with a combination dial lock and a handle. I turned towards Dellon and said, ¡°You may wanna start with the safe next time, buddy.¡±

    ¡°Sure, whatever you say,¡± said Dellon mildly. Seemed he was casting off the rigor of the military faster than anyone else. I wasn¡¯t sure yet if it was a good thing. But he didn¡¯t seem to be holding a grudge for making him walk barefoot, so I guess it was fine. After finishing the small talk, I turned and opened the safe the same way I did with the floor safe. I heard Dellon¡¯s voice go, ¡°Whoa¡± and Mercy¡¯s say, ¡°Impossible!¡± Okay, yeah, I appreciated Essea¡¯s quietly impressed reaction a lot more than that.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    There were two big bags of coins inside and another ledger book. Okay, that one was probably the illegal one. The coins were all Sul coins, and a lot were small denominations. It was probably the raw cash gathered by Nigeman¡¯s enforcers before it was split and shared out in paychecks to the minions and tributes to Lord Bowel. The nicer, hidden safe was probably Nigeman¡¯s own personal stash. The man had probably been skimming off the top for a while now. But that was none of my concern.

    I lightly flipped through the book before tucking it under my arm and taking the large bags of Sul in hand. I decided I was going to deliver this shipment to Janette myself. With nothing left to do in the study, I turned and started to walk out when Essea ran into the room seemingly panicked. She immediately approached me and said, ¡°The Garrison is here,¡± in that intense and meaningful way people used, as if the tone of voice conveyed everything.

    But it was meaningful. ¡°Here how,¡± I asked. ¡°Are they attacking us?¡±

    ¡°No, no, not yet, but they¡¯re asking a lot of questions of Gina and they¡¯re getting angry!¡±

    ¡°Where are they?¡±

    ¡°Out front! They¡¯re wanting us to turn over the building and our captives to them. They¡¯re claiming jury¡¯s diction!¡±

    ¡°Jurisdiction,¡± I automatically corrected. Damn it. I had a friend who used the wrong words all the time, so it¡¯d become a habit.

    ¡°Yeah, that!¡±

    I thought really hard for a moment. I couldn¡¯t go out there myself to hammer this out, I wasn¡¯t Colonel Lumpy and military men might figure that out. But I also couldn¡¯t leave the corrupt soldiers for Gina to handle on her own. I needed to get in on this.

    ¡°Which direction is the front of the house,¡± I asked.

    Essea was completely confused and looking around trying to figure out what I¡¯d just asked. Mercy shrugged. Dellon said, ¡°That wall over there,¡± pointing it out.

    I walked up to the wall, opened a latched window, and pushed it out just enough to eavesdrop on what was happening outside. Okay, yeah, there were ten soldiers out there, and Gina was trying to keep them out of the building. There were a couple more of my guys down there forming a human fence, but they were outnumbered at the moment. Callic was there, stink eyeing the guys, and was probably keeping three or four solidly cowed all by himself. Having a motherfucker working for you was useful on occasion.

    The conversation down there was typical posturing and jockeying for a legal upper hand in a red tape sort of way. But combined with macho military tempers and something like an eagerness to get in here. The garrison soldiers were starting to grip their sheathed swords with an intent to draw. They were probably under orders to secure the place by any means necessary, or something of the like. At this rate, blood would be shed. And I didn¡¯t want to risk any of my people against trained military personnel. But I had no way to show my face without risking complications down the line.

    ...Well, maybe I could¡­

    I formed some magic in the air at two points. One near Gina¡¯s ear and the other near my mouth. After connecting them in a one way broadcast, I lightly whispered into the air, ¡°Don¡¯t look around and just listen. Ask them what their commanding officer¡¯s rank is, and then name drop Colonel Braug.¡±

    Gina¡¯s cat ear flicked in surprise and she maybe eyeballed around a little to find the source of the whisper, as she checked over her shoulder a little, but she rolled with it.

    ¡°Okay, Sergeant, I have one question for you. What¡¯s the rank of the CO that ordered you out here?¡±

    Oh, it sounded like Gina was going to have fun with this.

    ¡°Don¡¯t call him a CO. He¡¯s the garrison captain. Captain Theen.¡±

    ¡°Weeeell, our unit is under the direct command of Colonel Braug himself. So I think his orders supersede your garrison captain¡¯s orders by several ranks of hierarchy. Sergeant. And his orders are that no one he doesn¡¯t clear can enter or leave this building. Including. You.¡±

    Wow. Gina was using the rank designations like they were insults. Women just had this inborn talent of emasculating men, didn¡¯t they?

    ¡°C-Colonel Braug,¡± the sergeant asked. The guy must really have had a terrible reputation, the sergeant actually took a step back from hearing the name. ¡°We- we still have to secure this site, though. We¡¯re under orders.¡±

    I whispered again, ¡°I¡¯m busy inside the house, but you¡¯ll do him a favor and tell me they¡¯re here. Then come find me.¡±

    ¡°I tell you what, sergeant, I¡¯ll do you a favor. The Colonel doesn¡¯t like to be disturbed when he¡¯s busy, and boy is he busy right now. But I¡¯ll go and tell him your squad is here and see what he has to say. Wish me luck.¡±

    Gina turned and walked into the house. After she left I think I heard a mumble from the sergeant that could have been a ¡°good luck,¡± or maybe a disgruntled grumble. Hard to tell. The soldiers seemed like they were content to stand around for a few minutes. Good.

    I immediately closed the window and went to the writing desk to find what I needed. A fountain pen, ink (if I needed to refill the pen), and some blank sheets of paper. I was about to put pen to paper when I was dumbstruck by my own idiocy. I had the handwriting of a five year old in this language! There was no way those soldiers would believe a colonel had written the message! I looked frantically around the room.

    Essea = Probably Uneducated.

    Dellon = Idiot.

    Mercy = Hapless Scientist.

    Okay, Mercy was the best bet for legible handwriting.

    ¡°Mercy, get over here. I need you to transcribe something.¡±

    As Mercy and I were switching out the seat at the desk, Gina entered the room asking what the plan was. I hurriedly hushed her up and turned to Mercy to say, stuffily, ¡°Write this down. As Dictated by Colonel Braug of the¡­ what¡¯s the name of your military?¡±

    ¡°The Holy Fulchas Army¡¯s Command,¡± offered Gina.

    ¡°The Holy Fulchas Army¡¯s Command,¡± I continued on. ¡°I have been made aware of your presence, and it is nothing but an unwelcome annoyance. I am in the middle of the investigation into the attempted murder of a military officer by an organized criminal group, and I will not tolerate interference of any kind. I hereby order you soldiers and the rest of your garrison, including your commanding officer, to remain on standby inside your garrison until further notice. Pressing orders prevent me from staying in town for long, however, and after the initial arrests are made, all prisoners and evidence will be turned over to the local authorities so that they may continue the investigation themselves.¡± I paused for a moment and put some deep thought into how an uptight psycho would go about threatening the soldiers of his own nation to stay out of his way. ¡°I shall personally punish any soldier who shows signs of insubordination to my orders. That is all. And end it with something appropriate an officer would sign a dispatch with.¡±

    Dellon said, ¡°Sign it with, Glory to the King, and Blessings of the Goddess.¡±

    With a final flourish of the pen, Mercy held the page up for me to read. I nodded in satisfaction. The handwriting was legible but not neat. It unfortunately had the girly curls and tilt that I had been expecting, but that was why I said it was dictated. ¡°Should I sign it,¡± I asked aloud.

    ¡°Orders are only legal if they¡¯ve been signed,¡± said Gina, realizing the stumbling block as she said it.

    I immediately put the sheet of paper on the desk, took a pen, and made squiggles that might be a rank and name if you were drunk enough. It was basically a doctor¡¯s signature. If it was legal for American bureaucracy, it was probably legal for Fulchas. I handed the completed fake orders to Gina who smiled, folded the paper into thirds, and carried it outside. I took my station at the window again to see if things went according to plan, and to be in a good sniping position in case they didn¡¯t. Thankfully, the sergeant in charge of the dispatch only took a little more convincing from Gina to be sent away after reading the impromptu orders. But he turned to look back at the house some before he got out of visual range. Acting like that, there was a chance he was in on the corruption¡­

    I left the study and went down stairs. I called out to the first soldier I saw and asked about the urchins. I was directed to the kitchen where another soldier who had his helmet off and resting on a butcher¡¯s block was in charge of inventorying the food and packing it up for hauling away. The urchins were surrounding the butcher''s block and stuffing their faces with cubes of cheese, slices of ham, and chunks of bread that the soldier probably set up for them. Gads, they were going at it like there was no tomorrow. Well, growing boys and poverty and all that.

    The urchins looked at me like they had been caught doing something bad and were waiting for the moment to make a break for it.

    ¡°Eat your food a little slower, kids,¡± I said offhandedly, as though I was talking to an equal. I always treated kids like they were of equal standing, and I found they respected me for not pandering to them. ¡°If you stuff your food without chewing you¡¯ll just give yourselves diarrhea.¡±

    Heh. That made their eyes bulge. The urchins looked at each other, then at their food, and I said, ¡°The foods not going anywhere. But I need to ask for a volunteer or two to watch the military garrison in town to make sure they stay put and don¡¯t try anything.¡±

    The urchins made sad eyes as they looked down at the food on the butcher¡¯s block.

    ¡°I¡¯ll pay for the work with a hot, hearty breakfast in the morning.¡±

    The urchins all started volunteering at once.

    ¡°Hang on, hang on. You three,¡± I designated them, ¡°will be on watch at the garrison, and the fourth will bring you your hot breakfasts in the morning. Now, I¡¯ll need you to leave quickly to shadow the soldiers back to the garrison.¡±

    The urchins looked back down at the food on the butcher¡¯s block.

    I sighed and turned to the soldier, probably Kyl something. He seemed to have a soft spot for the kids as he was looking at their disappointment with sad eyes of his own.

    ¡°Did you find any mustard or something like that?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. It¡¯s around¡­ here,¡± he said, pulling a stout jar from a cabinet.

    There was still a kitchen knife on the butcher¡¯s block that I picked up and used to cut the cheese into slices, made some fresh cuts on the ham, and picked up a bread knife near the loaf to make sliced bread. Then I slapped mustard on the sliced bread, piled on the ham and cheese, and asked Kyl to get some wrapping paper. I used it to bind half of each of the sandwiches and handed them out to the kids, saying, ¡°There. Meals to go. That should keep you sated for a while. Get going as soon as you can kids, but remember, chew your food. Or you¡¯ll be the ones who suffer.¡±

    The urchins took the sandwiches and pocketed some of the remaining food on the table before dashing out the door as I told them, ¡°And remember, instantly notify me if it looks like the soldiers at getting ready to attack anyone.¡± I barely got the final words out before the urchins were running out of the kitchen. I turned around to find the last urchin, the one who¡¯d originally helped me with kidnapping the idiot trio from the bar and asked, ¡°What¡¯s wrong.¡±

    The urchin was hanging his head, analyzing his sandwich and said dejectedly, ¡°Tha udder fellers is gunna get theys brekfasts and I¡¯s gunna have¡¯ta bring it ta¡¯ em. An I won¡¯t get one¡¯a my own.¡±

    It was pretty adorable how much he misunderstood. I almost didn¡¯t want to correct him. But I pulled up a chair and sat down to get closer to his eye level before saying, ¡°I don¡¯t think you actually get the situation, kid. By being the person who¡¯ll be delivering the breakfasts to the other kids, you¡¯re going to be getting your full meal before any of the others.¡±

    ¡°Really?!¡±

    ¡°Really,¡± I said back with a smile. ¡°In fact, I chose you to stay behind for a reason. You see, I could tell you were the smartest of your group since a while ago.¡±

    The kid tried¡­ almost not at all to seem humble about it and said, ¡°Izzit that obius?¡±

    Okay, he¡¯s savvy, but not intelligent. When I originally approached the urchins with the proposal of work, all of them turned it down out of disdain or suspicion. But this kid listened to my proposal before making a judgement, and then recruited three more kids.

    ¡°Only to an observant man,¡± I said as a counterpoint to his swelling head. As the kid was just started to get petulant over my dig, I continued. ¡°And that¡¯s what makes it all the better. Because I see a little bit of promise in you kid, and if it¡¯s you, you might understand what I¡¯m talking about.¡±

    ¡°An whazzat?¡±

    ¡°The secrets of making a profit while getting other people to do all the work for you.¡±

    Kyl turned something of a shocked and aghast face at me, probably thinking something along the lines of ¡®what do you think you¡¯re teaching a kid.¡¯ But I didn¡¯t care and kept on going.

    ¡°You see, for any group to actually be successful, they need a leader who is able to rally them towards a goal. Show them what to do and how to do it. When normal people are led by men of vision, there is nothing they can¡¯t accomplish.¡±

    ¡°An I ¡®ave that vissun?¡±

    ¡°You saw the potential profit in accepting my business offer. You do have that vision.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ tha biggest kid in our gangs is Brent. ¡®E¡¯s tha leader. Theres no way I¡¯s could beat ¡®um¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to beat anyone to be the guy in control, kid. You just have to figure out a way, and a reason, for other people to follow you instead of another guy. And you already have it. Start a business, renting out street kids as guides, couriers, and information brokers for visitors to your city. It might not work right away, but you¡¯ve shown tonight that your group is uniquely talented in knowing where everything and everyone are in this city.¡±

    ¡°Tha¡¯s cause it¡¯s our city, sir!¡±

    ¡°Just so,¡± I said, reclining in the chair a bit. ¡°And it¡¯s time you started making some money from that fact. And once you start making money, other kids¡¯ll want to get in on the business as well. Once that happens you¡¯ll need to start balancing your needs with other people''s needs, and that will be the tricky part. Because if people don¡¯t get what they need in order to survive, they¡¯ll just take it for themselves.¡±

    The urchin looked away, an attempt at looking innocent appearing across his face.

    ¡°But you already know that. So kid, the key to leadership is to figure out what people need, instead of what they want, and give it to them before they take it for themselves. Different people need different things, so that¡¯s the hardest part, figuring them out. After that, it¡¯s just about keeping them satisfied with what they have while you try and profit from everyone else¡¯s work. And if anyone tries to take your top spot, well, if they can¡¯t take care of people the way you can, they won¡¯t have it for very long.¡±

    I stood up, patted the kid on the shoulder, and turned to leave the room. Kyl had his hands on his hips giving me a look like a disappointed mother and said, ¡°How could you say those things to a kid?¡±

    ¡°Because that¡¯s what he needed to learn. Hey, kid. Come with me, I need some of your expertise right now.¡±

    The kid nearly bounded up from his chair before hesitating and asking with a smile, ¡°¡®Ow much ya gunna pay me, sir?¡±

    I chuckled and said, ¡°Quick study. I¡¯ll give you a Sul for helping me identify some folk.¡±

    ¡°Yer on,¡± exclaimed the kid as he snatched up his sandwich and bounced after me.

    On the way to the living room, I offhandedly asked the kid, ¡°Do you know any math?¡±

    The kid had to swallow a bite of sandwich before he could reply. ¡°Nut really, sir.¡±

    ¡°Is there a way for you to learn?¡±

    ¡°Lessuns is taught at tha church, sir.¡±

    ¡°Then have them teach you. Writing as well. If you want to be a leader of men you can¡¯t just be more intelligent or more cunning than them, you also need to have knowledge that they don¡¯t. And if you have that, it can become a weapon more effective than any sword.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± said the kid dourly. He was silent for a moment before asking, ¡°Is really ¡®ard leadin¡¯ izzunt it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the hardest thing in the world, kid. But if you do it right, there¡¯s nothing more rewarding.¡±

    The urchin nodded, and then we stepped into the living room.

 Extra Chapter 4: Election Day Special

    Extra Chapter 4 takes place on November 9th, 2016¡­ or does it?

    <hr>

    ¡°What the fuck,¡± exclaimed Xander as he looked through the internet the day after the election was decided.

    Aase had been relaxing in a chair backstage with Xander before they started production for the day, enjoying a mineral water, when she turned her head to Xander¡¯s ejaculation and asked, suddenly worried, ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    Xander looked up from the tablet and said, stunned, ¡°Trump won the election.¡±

    ¡°...Which election?¡±

    ¡°The presidential election, Aase. Donald Trump is going to be the next president of the United States.¡±

    Xander was making a complicated face as he said that. It was equal parts anger, anguish, mourning, and disbelief. Aase, being from Norway, really had no idea of the importance of the matter to Xander.

    ¡°I take it that¡¯s bad, then?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know. I mean, I didn¡¯t expect Trump to even come close to winning. I don¡¯t think he did either. He was throwing so much bull shit around about how the coming election was going to be rigged against him days, maybe weeks in advance. So, I hadn¡¯t really thought about what could happen if he actually won. I had basically consigned myself to having Hillary in office, and all the cloak and dagger abuse of power that would come with it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the blonde woman, right? She was married to the perverted president who was sleeping around on her?¡±

    ¡°She still is, Aase. Very happily married, if you believe the soundbites in the media. ¡±

    ¡°Seriously? Why?¡±

    ¡°Politics I guess. She wanted to look good in front of the voters more than she wanted to cut ties with a horn dog of a husband.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Aase screwed her face up, trying unsuccessfully to put herself in Hillary¡¯s shoes. She ended up giving up and pushing the thought to one side. ¡°Why would you think Hillary would have been corrupt in office?¡±

    Xander put thought into his answer before speaking, and started off with, ¡°Well, not corrupt, probably. I don¡¯t think she would have started taking kickbacks and bribe money, for instance. But she was a person who voraciously wanted power over the whole nation. You could see that in her for over a decade. Probably started after her husband got outed for his affairs.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± hummed Aase, making note of Xander¡¯s mental connection there.

    ¡°And there¡¯s the old saying, that the people who want power shouldn¡¯t be the ones to have it. There¡¯s also the scandals with Hillary¡¯s emails, making her an obfuscating liar who had already deeply abused the authority she had while serving the Obama administration-¡±

    ¡°Oh, I really liked Obama! He looked really good on TV. Why can¡¯t you just elect him again?¡±

    ¡°...Various reasons. But Hillary was also in on the Democratic party¡¯s deliberate sabotage of another leading candidate for the Democratic nomination. Meaning she actively subverted the process of the presidential election, along with the entire rest of the leadership of the Democratic party. So if she subverted the process of choosing the next president, what kind of subversion would she do after becoming the president? That¡¯s what I was worried about.¡±

    ¡°Well, now you don¡¯t have to worry about that any more,¡± suggested Aase, trying to get Xander to look at the bright side of things.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Yeah, but now we have Donald Fucking Trump coming into office. He¡¯s a guy who¡­ God. Looking at him, it¡¯s like he¡¯s the personification of the worst parts of half a dozen different presidents. He¡¯s got the thoughtlessness of speaking of George W Bush. The power hungry criminal mindset of Richard Nixon. The leadership abilities of Jimmy Carter. The perversion of Bill Clinton and John F Kennedy combined. And the self adulating dickishness of Kim Jong Il.¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t he Korean?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, bad example, I got carried away. But I remember seeing a video about Trump talking about how he¡¯d form the committee to build the wall on the Mexican border, while sitting next to a high ranking commissioner of the US Border Patrol. Trump said he¡¯d just take the subordinates of the guy sitting next to him to form the committee, because they were the ones who knew the most about the situation. Trump said that on the spur of the moment, on national television. I could tell, because the border patrol guy looked at Trump in shock, all like, ¡®The fuck you will! I need those guys to keep the border patrol going!¡¯ So, it feels like the Trump presidency will just be him making snap decisions and appointments without thinking about the consequences of his actions. All while being an open bigot, insulting jerkwad, and boasting about how he¡¯s going to create a special task force to put his opponent in the election in jail after being inaugurated.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I can see how that would be bad,¡± replied Aase, starting to get pulled into Xander¡¯s funk. ¡°Can¡¯t the United States fire a president though? I think I remember that the perverted president nearly lost his job.¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± mumbled Xander as he rubbed his chin which now had a day¡¯s growth of stubble. It kinda felt good, so he kept going for a while. ¡°Trump could get impeached. He¡¯s such a power mad psycho that I can easily see him abusing his power openly enough that he¡¯d get thrown out of office. That¡¯s actually a silver lining I can hope for! Thanks, Aase!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Xander,¡± said Aase, happy that she¡¯d lifted Xander¡¯s spirit before starting to talk about the script for Stop Calling Me A Demon King. ¡°So, how¡¯s the story shaping up on your end? I¡¯ve hardly been involved at all recently. Even that kid has been getting more screen time than me lately. What¡¯s his name anyway?¡±

    ¡°Dunno. I always just call him ¡®urchin.¡¯ As for what I¡¯m doing, the writer has me dismantling an entire criminal organization and getting ready to face down a corrupt city garrison.¡±

    ¡°Really? How will you be doing that?¡±

    ¡°No clue at all. Honestly, this writer. Sometimes I think he¡¯s just making this shit up as he goes along.¡±

    ¡°That is a somewhat worrying thought. He said flat out that he was willing to kill major characters without prior notice if he felt it would be interesting before now.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s hope he doesn¡¯t kill me off and have you become the protagonist, Aase. He very nearly did just that once already.¡±

    Xander felt a shiver go up his spine from his near brush with death, as Aase retorted, ¡°Oh, you dying won¡¯t be necessary, Xander. I¡¯ll just take over the spotlight from you with my natural grace and charming personality.¡±

    ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry Xander. I¡¯ll keep you around. I¡¯ve grown fond of your company these past few weeks.¡±

    Aase showed a prankster¡¯s smile as she said that, breaking through Xander¡¯s reflexive guard to hearing Aase¡¯s playful declaration. While it should have been obvious that Aase was joking from the start, but Xander was something of what you¡¯d call, ¡°An Easy Mark.¡±

    ¡°Well that¡¯s nice to hear, Aase. How fond exactly?¡±

    ¡°Hmm. About as fond as a new pet?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t even rate in the human standards?¡±

    Aase started giggling and corrected Xander, ¡°I mean you¡¯re kind of cute, but you¡¯re prone to misbehaving.¡±

    ¡°You think I¡¯m cute, huh?¡± That being the part Xander felt was most important in what Aase said to him.

    ¡°Mmmmmmmmmaybe¡­¡±

    ¡°Mmmmmm. Well, you¡¯re cute, too, Aase.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Now if only we could remember that we said these things outside of this extra chapter. I¡¯d really love to take you out on a date.¡±

    ¡°Well, Xander, we¡¯ll see what happens.¡±

    Aase took a drink of her mineral water, and seeing that Xander said, ¡°Woof woof,¡± like a puppy would. Aase¡¯s throat convulsed as a smile twisted her face, and hastily pulling the bottled mineral water from her mouth, she swallowed and said, obviously amused but slightly annoyed, ¡°Stop that! You¡¯ll make me choke!¡±

    ¡°Ba-woof,¡± replied Xander.

    Aase leaned back in her chair laughing.

 Chapter 22: Sated

    ¡°What is that,¡± I asked lightly, but with a hint of WTF in my voice.

    ¡°A warning shot,¡± said Aase bemusedly from a comfy chair in the mansion¡¯s living room. It had been turned to look upon the bound prisoners who were lined up and kneeling at the opposite end of the room. The prisoners were looking very nervous, with sweat glistening on their brows. It made sense, really, because there was a spike of ice the size of a man¡¯s leg stuck in the wall just beyond them at about torso height. The man who was sitting just beneath the spike of ice seemed to have a wet spot on his pants. There were some other guards in the room, sure, but it looked like Aase was the one keeping the fear of God in these people.

    A bit much, but effective, it seemed. But really, for Aase, that was definitely on the lighter side of her magic abilities. She seemed to have a lot of magic power, like I did, or more. But Aase¡¯s ability to control it was not so nearly fine tuned. Her magic was expelled in bursts of power, while mine could be directed with more finesse. That was the reason I didn¡¯t want Aase to get involved in the fight unless things went south, because if Aase let loose, then Nigeman¡¯s mansion wouldn¡¯t have survived it. And I had wanted a chance to loot the place, build up the caravan¡¯s coffers a little.

    Aase¡¯s precision and finer control of her magic was getting better in our practice sessions, but I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve found her niche in magic just yet. ...On further consideration, maybe I had been spending too much time exploring Aase¡¯s magic than my own, since the fight with Nigeman had been harder than it probably should have been until I realized I could cast without gestures.

    Okay, let¡¯s put that on the mental to do list.

    ¡°Well, keep up the good work,¡± I said to Aase, then turned to Janette. ¡°How¡¯s the inventory going?¡±

    ¡°Inventory? On that?¡±

    Janette seemed a bit frazzled, but damn it, this was not something that should be dismissed!

    ¡°The inventory of the contents of the safes, Janette! I had them sent to you!¡±

    ¡°Oh! They¡¯re right there,¡± pointed Janette to a couch near Aase. ¡°I haven¡¯t had time to get around to them yet.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    To my credit, only a hint of exasperation entered my voice. Or at least that¡¯s what I though. Janette kind of shrunk back a little and the urchin who was at my side slid a little away from me. Was I really that scary? I¡¯m starting to not care any more.

    ¡°Take a breath, Xander,¡± said Aase calmingly. ¡°Your eyes are flaming.¡±

    I closed my eyes and laid my hands on my hips. I took three deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. Having calmed down a little, I opened my eyes and took a cursory glance at Aase, who gave me a nod. Then I turned my gaze back to Janette, who was holding her clipboard up like a tiny shield. I asked a lot more calmly this time, ¡°Why have you not even started on the inventory?¡±

    Janette glanced a couple directions and then started, slowly at first, ¡°I¡­ thought I was supposed to finish identifying the prisoners. I¡¯m nearly done recording their physical descriptions, and I¡¯m only satisfied that a few have given their true names so far.¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing I brought-¡± the urchin? No, if I¡¯m introducing him then I should use his actual name. What¡¯s his name? ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Wyatt, sir.¡±

    Wyatt. You know, it only just now really hit me, but this world had the strangest miss-mash of fantasy names and Earth names. Okay, ask about names, added to the to do list.

    ¡°-Wyatt,¡± I finished up my previous statement. ¡°He¡¯s going to help you confirm who these guys are and what their roles under the dearly departed Nigeman were. After that, compare them with the list we got from our previous prisoners. Make notes of absences or discrepancies. After that, start on the accounting. And give Wyatt a Sul for his fee.¡±

    ¡°A full Sul,¡± asked Janette aghast.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know the worth of money yet, Janette! Just give the kid what I promised!¡±

    Janette held her clipboard shield up again and Aase gently chided, ¡°Xander. Eyes.¡±

    I closed my eyes and kneaded my forehead with the thumb and index of my right hand as I said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I just need a minute. Is anyone in that room?¡± Janette shook her head as I opened my eyes to look at her. ¡°I¡¯ll be using it for a little bit. I don¡¯t want to be bothered unless it¡¯s important.¡±

    I walked through the door, leading to the room where I blasted the hole in the wall. Wait, it¡¯s furnished like a living room, too. This guy had two living rooms? Or was it a drawing room? Den? No, I¡¯m wasn''t doing this right now.

    I went to a comfy looking chair and sat down. I leaned back into the chair and rubbed at my forehead a little before dropping my arm onto the cushy armrest, letting myself relax even more.

    ¡°What the hell am I supposed to do now,¡± I breathed aloud for only my ears to hear.

    I wouldn¡¯t say I was moving without a plan until now. But my plan had been fueled by anger, wrath, and revenge. I was going to tear Nigeman¡¯s organization apart in one fell swoop, and then do¡­ something with the remnants. I know I thought I was going to do something so smart and awesome in a poetic justice sort of way, but whatever the finer details were, I¡¯d completely forgot them. Or they had never existed in the first place. So now, I had a bunch of prisoners, illegally obtained cash from a murdered ¡°merchant,¡± and an entire garrison that I had gathered and put on alert that would love to sweep this whole thing under the rug. I was sure I¡¯d be up for despoiling some more people before the night was through if I were in the mood, but the problem was¡­ I wasn¡¯t.

    My desire for revenge had already been sated, since Nigeman was my originl, and only, target when I''d started this. And that was a really big problem.

    I was raised Christian, believe it or not. Taught to turn the other cheek by my mother, and taught to stand my ground, even if it meant killing the other guy, by my father. And I was naturally vengeful. I mean, not in a ¡°Burn your house down with flaming lemons,¡± kind of way. But if you screwed me, I got you back twofold, and then forgave you. But the problem with this world was, there was a distinct lack of infrastructure for me to get away with forgiving my enemies. And I sure as fuck wasn¡¯t going to be forgiving my enemies all the way to being thrown into a lion cage for the amusement of others, like the first generations of Christians were like to do.

    But wrathful thoughts didn¡¯t come easy when I wasn¡¯t pissed off. And right now, I was far more tired than I was angry. The lack of electric lights during travel had led to me going to sleep when it got dark instead of playing video games or studying. Mercy¡¯s light spell was useful for my habit of staying up nights, but my sleeping patterns had definitely shifted. Meaning it was now past my bedtime. And the fatigue of the fight with Nigeman had dog piled on top of my desire for sleep, leaving me completely worn out.

    Then there was the mental pressure of my current situation. At the moment, it just felt like a tangle of cause and effect, balled together like a bundle of yarn as I tried to think about what I should do to try and come out ahead. Because now my enemy wasn¡¯t Nigeman and a bunch of goons. It was the entire garrison of soldiers in this town, commanded by a corrupt captain and lord. Soldiers who would be equal in skill and training to my own. And they wouldn¡¯t have had a night of fighting, or two weeks of traveling on foot to complicate their side of any battle I had with them.

    ¡°There might even be more garrison soldiers than I have in my caravan. There¡¯s no way I can have a stand up fight with them,¡± I said wearily.

    With me and Aase in the mix, we¡¯d probably win. Assuming she and I didn¡¯t get sniped by bows or magic or something. I¡¯d rather not risk either of our lives in battle, not unless there was no other choice. In which case, if I was going to fight the garrison¡­ I¡¯d have to be the one to attack them. Ambush them. Bust into the garrison like I did Nigeman¡¯s estate, blast the walls down and raid them while they weren''t expecting it. Kill them in their beds.

    ¡°Except I ordered the soldiers to gather inside the garrison,¡± I said with a sigh. ¡°They¡¯ll be armed and paranoid. Yay, me.¡±

    Why did I even order the soldiers to gather in the first place¡­? Oh, yeah, to keep them out of my way, so I could do whatever I wanted without them trying to stop me, or question my identity. If a single person could ID me as NOT being Colonel Lumpy, I was running the risk of dire consequences to come. How dire? No clue, I just knew I didn¡¯t want to blow my cover. ...Probably only the people in the garrison or the local lord would know Colonel Lumpy by sight. Or maybe a random civilian who was a retired soldier¡­ It wasn¡¯t impossible. I¡¯d have to curb using the Colonel¡¯s name in public as much as possible.

    ¡°Maybe Aase and I should just nuke the garrison and lord¡¯s manor? Kill ¡®em all and take the town over? All hail the Overlord.¡±

    I said it as a joke and it got a few chuckles from myself. But I started seriously considering the possibility. But no way. Nigeman was a knight or something, right? He wasn¡¯t uniquely skilled or powerful by this world¡¯s standards, at least. He was caught flat footed and still nearly killed Callic. The asshat nearly killed me, too. My personal nightmare was going to be having a squad of knights like that guy coming after me for blood from now on, screw the assaulting colors. And if I conquered a city in this nation, claiming it for my own, I was going to have an army of guys like those bearing down on me. No, conquest was out of the question, which meant fighting was too.

    ¡°So I have to settle this without fighting somehow¡­¡±

    Okay, course of action decided. Avoid fighting without claiming to be Colonel Lumpy in front of anyone else, while getting the fuck outta Dodge. If the Lord was in charge of this city, he couldn¡¯t chase after me when I left. And he wouldn¡¯t be able to send anyone else after me without tipping his hand. And I doubt Nigeman was important enough to Lord Bowel to take revenge on me. Unless Bowel was angry about the lost revenue¡­ but that would be the kind of revenge that could only be indulged without getting anyone else involved. No. I¡¯d probably be in the clear if I got out of town.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    So. Logic dictated that I followed the most important strategy that Sun Tzu espoused. Run away from combat when it¡¯s not worth fighting. Pack everyone up, leave tonight. Maybe torch Nigeman¡¯s manor with everyone working for him tied up inside to boot. That would be one heck of a way to finish off the night.

    But, no. No more killing tonight, if it can be avoided. IF it can be avoided.

    ¡°And I¡¯m sure as hell not going to let Nigeman¡¯s crew go.¡±

    Cutting the head off a snake may kill the body, but organized crime can just elect a new leader if you don¡¯t crush the organization. The Sopranos taught me that. And I¡¯m not the sort to leave a task half done¡­ unless I¡¯m feeling lazy, but you gotta have a work ethic for the important things, right? And it wouldn¡¯t feel right, crushing Nigeman just to let one of his cronies step up and keep the protection racket going. Because if you¡¯re gonna save someone, and I guess I¡¯m talking about the shopkeepers of the city, you should save them all the way. Otherwise, it¡¯s the type of hypocritical fair weather kindness that ends up destroying people¡¯s lives.

    ¡°Okay. so I have my objectives,¡± I said groggily, the words slurring slightly.

    <ol>

    <li>Crush or capture the rest of Nigeman¡¯s organization. The process of gathering the info needed to do that was happening right in the next room. At least angry me was able to lay the ground work for that.</li>

    </ol>

    <ol start="2">

    <li>Have the remains of the criminal organization dealt with. But not by me. I don¡¯t know the justice system of this world, but I¡¯d be willing to bet Nigeman¡¯s cronies had broken a lot of laws. But they hadn¡¯t been arrested, probably because no one had come forward. Corrupt cops will do that to a community. So I¡¯d need witnesses to get these goombas arrested and tried. But how did you make people WANT to throw their fear and personal safety aside¡­?</li>

    </ol>

    <ol start="3">

    <li>Don¡¯t fight with the garrison. Some of my people would die no matter how that battle shook out, and I¡¯d be getting hunted, by more than just the shadow of a conspiracy. God, I was looking forward to getting out of this country. So I had to get the garrison to take care of prosecuting my prisoners without resorting to violence or threats, because military men didn¡¯t respond to threats well at all. So I¡¯d need to manipulate the garrison into not pursuing me, while wanting to lock the real criminals away.</li>

    </ol>

    Except I was now guilty of cold blooded murder, breaking and entering, and robbery, which actually made me a criminal as well. ...Let¡¯s put that aside for now.

    <ol start="4">

    <li>Cut ties with the city and get out as fast as possible. This was important, as the longer I was here the more likely things were going to go wrong. We dropped our names and the platoon number at the front gate, if those got to the ears of anyone who knew we were in that research facility, we were all brown bread. And I had to do this without dropping Colonel Lumpy¡¯s name any more than I had before now.</li>

    </ol>

    Objective one wasn¡¯t too much of a problem, as long as I acted tonight. News won¡¯t really start getting around about what happened here until dawn and the rumor mills started circulating. I hoped. Objective four required the fulfilling of objectives two and three. And I somehow doubted I¡¯d be able to stir up some brave witnesses before midday at the earliest. Once people were use to being cowards, they didn¡¯t ever want to be brave. Coaxing and pushing would be required to make even the bravest step forward on their own. So witness hunting would burn a lot of time and would be highly risky, as it would show too much of what I¡¯m trying to keep under raps, that I wasn''t actually military and had no right to arrest people myself. And I somehow doubted I¡¯d be able to keep the garrison pacified long enough to hunt for brave people in this town. The lord and garrison commander would probably be looking to tie up loose ends shortly after breakfast.

    That meant that whatever I did, one hour after dawn was the latest I''d have to pull it off.

    That span of time was too narrow. It was impossible to fulfill objective two and then objective three in that amount of time. And even after I fulfilled objective two, and I cleaned my hands of this city, what¡¯s to stop the corrupt law enforcement from trying to kill me to keep my mouth shut afterwards. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, just like it does in dark corners or dungeon cells. So I couldn¡¯t waltz right into the garrison with the prisoners, turn over the book that potentially incriminates the lord and garrison commander, enjoy a spot of tea and walk away with a back sanz dagger in it. If I kept it confidential, these guys would try and murder me and my people.

    So whatever I did, it had to be in public, shortly after dawn, with witnesses to what I was doing, and witnesses to Nigeman¡¯s criminal activities, while giving people the courage to testify, and keeping the garrison from seeking to silence me and mine. All while turning over all the evidence of Lord Bowel and the garrison captain¡¯s wrongdoing, leaving them free and in the clear so they didn¡¯t come after me for fear that I would blackmail or arrest them at a later date.

    ...Wait. That sounded suspiciously like a solid plan to me.

    The corners of my mouth lifted upwards in a slight smile of personal satisfaction, as total relaxation swept over me.

    ¡°Snrrrrrrrrrrrkt!¡±

    GAH!

    Oh. I fell asleep. It would''ve been really nice if I didn¡¯t wake myself up from a pleasant nap every time I issued a snore. It¡¯d been a thorn in my side whenever I needed a couple minutes of shut eye at the college and didn¡¯t feel like returning to the dorm room.

    I tilted my head back up from the cramp inducing angle I had fallen asleep in and blinked hard. After I scratched at the corner of my eyes a little, I stretched and pleasantly remembered the plan I¡¯d come up with just before consciousness failed me. It brought another smile of self satisfaction to my face. I still had it on me as I opened the door to the first living room in time to see Aase yawning hard in her seat, covering her mouth with an open hand.

    ¡°Hey, Aase, how long was I gone for?¡±

    ¡°Hhhm? Oh, let¡¯s see,¡± Aase said, a little drowsy herself. ¡°About fifteen minutes or so?¡±

    ¡°Okay, good. Where¡¯s Janette?¡±

    It was only after specifically looking for her that I realized Janette was gone.

    ¡°She finished up with the prisoners and went upstairs to do the inventory. She took the money and Wyatt with her.¡±

    ¡°Really? That¡¯s good. When was this?¡±

    ¡°Hhhm? Oh. About fifteen minutes ago or so?¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say that was how long I¡¯ve been gone?¡±

    ¡°Did I? Sorry, I haven¡¯t been checking a clock. What time is it anyway¡­?¡±

    ¡°Uhhh.¡± Really. What time was it? ¡°I¡¯d actually like to know, too. You okay where you are, Aase, or would you like me to reinforce these guys so you can nap?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, I¡¯aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahm okay,¡± said Aase, yawning hard. Then she screwed her face into a shape to open her eyes as wide open as possible.

    I waited a beat to make sure I wouldn¡¯t crack up at the cuteness before saying, "I¡¯ll send some people to relieve you. When they get here, go ahead and find a nice bed on the second floor to crawl into, okay?¡±

    ¡°M¡¯okay.¡±

    I left the living room and sent the first few guys I saw to relieve Aase, and to bind the prisoners more securely while they were on guard duty. I wanted them wrapped up like gifts for the party that would be happening this morning.

    I very nearly bowed to my desire to issue a random peal of maniacal laughter.

    Instead, I proceeded upstairs and found Janette in the study, with Wyatt, who was whining at Janette as she was counting the money on the study table.

    ¡°I dun see whys I canst have un now, lady.¡±

    ¡°I already told you, I can¡¯t pay you your Sul until I finish the count! Payouts only happen after an accurate count of the funds have been made.¡±

    ¡°Tha¡¯ sounds stupid. Iz only a Sul, lady.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s procedure, and we have to operate according to procedure.¡±

    ¡°Ugh. Fiiiiiiine. Ow much more ya gots¡¯ta count, lady?¡±

    ¡°...I dunno, you made me lose my place.¡±

    Wyatt moaned loudly, as though he was performing such that the entire world could know his misery. Oh, there¡¯s Aase ducking into a room over there. Must be a bed inside. Anyway, the floor show¡¯s gone on too long.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I said. You¡¯d think the word was a shotgun blast with the way Janette reacted. She started stammering and apologizing for the amount of time she was taking. I started pacifying her reflexively, but honestly, I think I might have been overworking her. And she seemed far more suited for mundane inventory keeping and the like than more advanced requirements. She never lost her cool once keeping track of potatoes in the camp, but I could see she was trying to count the Sul using her fingers, and there were a lot of scribbled out numbers on the blotter pad on the desk. Finally I was able to say, ¡°I¡¯m actually here for the notes you made Janette, and for Wyatt.¡±

    ¡°Oh, whys tha, sir?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s about how you¡¯re going to earn that Sul I promised you.¡±

    Wyatt¡¯s face screwed in surprise and indignation. Very much exaggerated forms of both, in fact. ¡°But I alredy earns it, sir!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s another lesson for you Wyatt, learn to read and write fast so you can write contracts and recipes. Without those, anyone you deal with in verbal contracts is free to change their mind on you whenever they want, and screw you over. Use this to make yourself a better businessman in the future. Always get it in writing. But even you have to agree that what I asked you to do wasn¡¯t enough for a full Sul¡¯s work, right?¡±

    Right? I seriously didn¡¯t know, so I was guessing. Wyatt eventually shrugged and gave a half nod of assent.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m going to need your help for something else tonight. We¡¯re going to be snapping up all the rest of Nigeman¡¯s group, and getting rid of them all, once and for all.¡±

    ¡°Ows you gunna do tha, sir?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll see. First things first, though. I¡¯ll need you to carry a note to Callic, and then you¡¯ll need to stay near him and do what he tells you to do. Alright? Do that, and you¡¯ll get your Sul. Janette, loan me the pen and some paper.¡±

    I scratched out the orders I had in, well, not exactly good time. Or in proper hand writing. But it was legible. It also had orders to wake me up once the orders were fulfilled or some emergency came up. And so, after testing the ink to make sure it was dry, I folded my orders along with Janettes notes and handed them to Wyatt, who bounded down the stairs to find Callic standing guard outside.

    Well, that was taken care of. Nice having subordinates. It¡¯d be nicer to have a personal secretary, but work with what you got. Ink actually dried really fast in this world, doesn¡¯t it? I wished Janette fun with counting the swag and made my way towards the room Aase went inside. The power nap had helped, but I was fading fast now that I¡¯d set my plan in motion. My mind was starting to scatter.

    You know, I thought old style ink needed sand and blotters to prevent running. Whatever, convenience is convenience.

    Yeah, just like that.

    I stepped into the room and from the light bleeding in from the shining quartz in the hallways I saw Aase fully dressed and curled up on top of the bed. Mercy was also fully dressed and asleep on top of the bed. Mercy was also holding onto the sleeping Aase. Their hair was wildly flayed about and intertwined on the pillows as they breathed gently, holding onto one another. It was perhaps titillating, or adorable, or something. But I couldn¡¯t think what, most likely from the fatigue. And was it alright for a stalker type like Mercy to be so close to Aase?

    ¡­

    Ah, screw it. I was too tired to care about details.

    I laid down on the bed in an open spot, fully clothed, and closed my eyes. Peace and slumber quickly started pushing their way into my mind and everything else was pushed out. There felt kind of like there was some movement on the bed and something pressed on me.

    At the time, all I could think was¡­ it felt nice and warm...

 Chapter 23: Mob

    The hurried jumble of stray thoughts and images of my dream were influenced by body warmth. The threads of thoughts and pieces of memories blending together left me with a dozen different emotions swirling around and crashing into each other as I unconsciously began to remember Chelsea. Sorrow mingled with anger, tinged with regret and spiced with pensive longing. I recalled her hair, her eyes, her voice. I recalled the stolen times we had with each other, including our worst, when we snuck a quicky in my car. In all the emotions of all the time Chelsea and I had spent together, the warmest was fondness; there was not even the slightest trace of love. At the moment when anger and bitterness started to dominate my dream, I felt something pushing it¡¯s way through the veil of sleep.

    With time and effort I was able to push back the fog of drowsiness to realize that a voice was saying, ¡°Please wake up, Boss,¡± over and over again while lightly shaking me. It was more like slight nudgings than shakes, really, and because of that it took longer for me to free myself of the jaded trappings of memories that were trying to enwrap me all over again. My eyes fluttered open, and with great effort, I began focusing my vision on the face of-

    ¡°Zent Kow,¡± I said to the face. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m waking you up, Boss. Like the orders said to.¡±

    Slightly belligerent, I said, ¡°No, why are you whispering in my ear and nudging me like a¡­ like a loose tooth?¡±

    ¡°To not wake the others, Boss.¡±

    Huh?

    I turned my head to the direction that Zent was looking in, and lo and behold, there was Mercy cuddling up against me. Mercy¡¯s head was resting on my shoulder with her left arm wrapped over the top of my torso, embracing my body. Mercy¡¯s own body was pressed up against me, allowing me to feel the softness of her adult form and feel it¡¯s heat in my sleep. It¡¯s no wonder I started dreaming of Chelsea, then.

    After confirming Mercy¡¯s presence, I started trying to figure out just how she was entangled with me so I could extricate myself. Trying not to move around much, I took in the rest of our positioning, which included one of her legs draped over one of my own. Mercy wasn¡¯t wearing her nylons, and had on a skirt of some loose and thin fabric that draped down over her knees. But Mercy¡¯s moving around had bunched it up enough that her bare thigh was slowly rubbing against me as she shifted from the intrusive sounds of voices from Zent and myself. And it also seemed that I had my left hand firmly planted on Mercy¡¯s ass, through the fabric.

    Let¡¯s just make sure. Yup. That¡¯s an ass in the palm of my hand. Probably Mercy¡¯s, but I should verify that. Um-hmm. Um-hmm. Let¡¯s just triple check. Um-hmm. Location seemed right for the ass to be Mercy¡¯s. Let¡¯s just assume this belonged to Mercy. ...In that case, I should memorize the feel, just in case something like this happened again. It¡¯s for academic purposes, after all. Yeah. That, was a rather nice ass. If I was reviewing it like wine, I¡¯d say, narrow, with a hint of padding over only partially toned muscles, allowing one¡¯s hand to sink in to enjoy it¡¯s springiness.

    One would never think that this bum belonged to an unrepentant mad scientist responsible for the abduction and deaths of over a hundred people, a fate that I and Aase very nearly shared. Funny how that thought could kill a moment. Well, let¡¯s start freeing myself.

    I shifted my body position in an attempt to start sliding out from under Mercy¡¯s weight, with the intention of lightly resting her head back onto a pillow in place of my shoulder. But I couldn¡¯t move my arm. Thinking it odd, I investigated some more and found that Mercy seemed to have an extra arm connected to her torso. An arm that was a few shades lighter than Mercy¡¯s dusky complexion. Propping myself up on my right elbow, I looked past Mercy¡¯s head on my left side to see Aase spooning tightly onto Mercy, with my arm caught in between their two bodies.

    So that was why my arm was so warm and comfortable. Especially that one part¡­

    So, I just kinda realized that this was why Zent said ¡°others,¡± plural. Still not fully awake, I guess.

    Aase was still dressed in the uniform she was using before, but she had taken off the jacket to crawl onto this bed, so she was wearing only the thin white undershirt the Fulchas military used for their soldiers above the waist. And I really do mean, ¡°only.¡± There was no one else in the caravan who had the same bra measurements as Aase, and they didn¡¯t sell bras at second hand stores. Meaning there had been no chances for Aase to purchase more than the single bra she had been transported with. And it seemed like that particular bra was in the ¡°to be washed¡± category for the day, as I could clearly feel Aase¡¯s generous assets embracing my arm around the bicep area, sandwiched between the pair. It may be my imagination, but it felt like I could feel Aase¡¯s slow heartbeat through her exquisite softness.

    ...I only had to check through my sense of touch that I was in contact with both Aase and Mercy at the same time once more. Okay, twice more. But then I looked up at Zent and whispered, ¡°While I¡¯m sure you¡¯re quite bitter and envious right now, I swear-¡±

    ¡°Not bitter or envious at all, Boss.¡±

    Huh. I think he meant it. ¡°Good chap,¡± I mumbled in a clipped British accent before properly whispering again. ¡°I¡¯m going to need your help to get out of this.¡± Zent nodded his head. ¡°Alright. First, gently lift Mercy¡¯s leg up and place it next to her other one.¡± Zent did so, slowly and gently. ¡°Good,¡± I said, ¡°Now. Take a firm hold of both of Mercy¡¯s ankles, and drag her off the bed.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Drag her off the bed. Quickly, please.¡±

    ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t really want to, Boss.¡±

    ¡°Zent. It¡¯ll be really funny. So please, just do it. I¡¯ll make it an order if it helps?¡±

    Zent sighed and said, ¡°Yes, Boss.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I affirmed. ¡°Do it all in one go.¡±

    Zent nodded, nibbled on his lips a little, took hold of Mercy¡¯s ankles, and then put grunting effort into dragging Mercy. Halfway down the bed, Mercy woke up just enough to squeal in surprise before bodily dropping onto the floor with an audible dump. The sounds were loud, piercing, and impactful enough to send Aase sitting bolt upright on the bed in bleary eyed alertness while I desperately tried to hold in the laughter. In the time it took Mercy to flail around enough to get her knees under her and look around in sleep disturbed hyper energetic focus, Aase asked, ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, Mercy just fell off the bed while Zent and I were trying to wake her. Mercy has some terrible sleeping posture.¡± I was already standing at the time I said this, and Zent was covering his mouth with a hand. ¡°Weren¡¯t we, Zent?¡±

    Zent nodded at my question instead of trying to elaborate the lie. Good man.

    ¡°Well, this is your wake up call, you two. Get ready to face the day. Come on, Zent, let¡¯s go.¡±

    I hurried Zent out through the bedroom door as I heard Mercy ask, loud and disoriented, ¡°Where¡¯s my shoes?¡±

    As Zent and I were descending the stairs, he released his mouth and said, ¡°You were right, Boss. It was funny,¡± through the chuckles escaping him. Zent¡¯s laughter set me off, and we hit the bottom of the stairs, a couple of laughing idiots in front of the seven or eight new captives looking beat up, gagged, and bound on the floor of the hallway. Callic turned to look at Zent and me, demanding, ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    ¡°You had to be there,¡± I answered immediately before Zent could finish wincing in front of his superior officer. ¡°This all of them?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± said Callic. ¡°Every one of Nigeman¡¯s crooks on the list. The kid was a good guide for finding their houses, and none of them were awake enough to put up much of a fight. Now, what are we supposed to do with them?¡±

    Well, the night time raid plan was a success. Way to go, Angry Me!

    ¡°Where¡¯s the Urchin?¡±

    Callic pointed with a thumb out the door where Janette was standing with the urchin, who was whining, ¡°Why can¡¯ I ¡®ave it now?¡±

    ¡°The- um, Xander¡¯s orders said he wanted to pay you himself.¡±

    Actually they said not to let the lad leave before I could talk with him again, but that excuse worked for me. I stepped through the doorway onto the street and said to the lad, ¡°That I did. Janette, please hand me a Sul.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Janette did so, and I held the coin aloft in my fingers like it was a precious stone. ¡°You¡¯ve done a good job tonight, Wyatt. You¡¯ve earned all of this Sul. I¡¯m grateful for your work.¡± I then lowered the coin into Wyatt¡¯s outstretched hand. His face was beaming brightly even through the fatigue of a night of work. Instead of letting go of the coin, I said, ¡°Now, how¡¯d you like to earn bonus pay?¡±

    Wyatt¡¯s face turned aghast and he recoiled back saying, ¡°I shou¡¯a known!¡±

    ¡°No, no, no,¡± I interjected, calming the urchin down and holding the coin out for him, ¡°This is yours. Go ahead, take it. You earned it.¡± At my further urging, Wyatt eventually crept back up and took the Sul coin from me. I said, ¡°There. Job complete, payment in full. Now, Wyatt. I want to know if you want to earn even more money, for a faster and easier job.¡±

    Wyatt pouted for a little and asked, ¡°Wha¡¯s the job?¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ll take it?¡±

    ¡°...I¡¯ll listen.¡±

    It took a little work, a little explanation, and a written contract at Wyatt¡¯s insistence (I was so proud when he asked for one), but I was able to hire the urchin. And within thirty minutes, as the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, there were a dozen street kids running through the town waking up the merchants of the city and cajoling them to gather in front of the town¡¯s garrison. I was actually in the inn changing into civilian clothing when one of the hired street kids came around, insisting on being heard, and on getting a promise from the owner to bring everyone he could to the garrison. Those tykes were working hard for the one third Sul that Wyatt had promised them on my behalf. Wyatt though, was earning a five sevenths of a Sul for organizing them.

    The kid had potential.

    I met up with Aase, who had also changed into some civilian clothing from this world inside the inn. She was wearing a thick sleeveless blouse and a two layered skirt made from a strip of white fabric wrapped about the waist and hanging to the mid thigh, and an orange strip of fabric sewn to the white that hung past the knees. It seemed like a heavier material than Mercy¡¯s skirt, and a cheaper design, but it had a lively motion to it as Aase and I walked down the street towards the Garrison, calling out to everyone we passed to inform them that something really important was happening there. I knew that Aase and I were on our way to a conspiracy event that I set up, but there was an excited energy about us, as though I were getting ready for a performance, and Aase was getting ready to see a show.

    On arrival to the garrison (we had to ask directions to the place twice) the sun was just beginning to dispel the coolness of the night and the beginnings of a crowd was forming in the plaza before the garrison¡¯s main entrance. Aase and I began to mingle, and the nippiness of the morning began to fade away with the combining of the people¡¯s body heat as more and more people were showing up. There was good reason for people to be pulled to the location, even aside from my hired heralds of street urchins running through the town. Because there in the plaza, fully armed and armored, carrying swords and truncheons, were the soldiers from my caravan, in a crowd suppression line while guarding the bound and gagged criminals from Nigeman¡¯s criminal enterprise. In addition, the body of Nigeman was strung up by it¡¯s heels halfway up the flagpole planted in the cobblestone courtyard. I know I told my people to make the presentation as showy as possible, but that might have been a little much. ...Well, it was fine I guess. He was fully exsanguinated already, so no gross globbits were falling out of him after all.

    Looking around, I was able to mark Callic and Gina in the group because of their helmets. I guess it¡¯s nice of the military to make helmets with nondescript bumps on the top to keep from crushing the ears of animal eared people¡­?

    Aase tugged at my arm and lightly pointed to some people on a sentry path at the top of the garrison, looking down on the proceedings and standing close together. I smiled seeing that. It was body language of nervousness and confusion. Those people were absent any clear orders. Seemed the garrison hadn¡¯t been galvanized into a plan of action, yet. If they had been, my little plan would crumble to pieces. Or if the commanding officer was an early rising Crack-Of-Dawn type person¡­ but if he was strict and professional, then he probably wouldn¡¯t have become a crook in the first place. Anyway, the absence of clear leadership was giving the townsfolk a chance to gather.

    Ha. A soldier from the garrison came out but got sent back inside by Gina with a boldly pointing hand. Probably not the first one since my team set up shop judging by Gina¡¯s vehement gestures.

    I looked around, and there were at least a hundred, probably a hundred and fifty people. More were joining by the minute. Whoa. Lots more. They were coming in packs! There would be three hundred people here soon.

    ¡°Holy crap,¡± I accidentally remarked in english. Then I said to Aase who tilted her head at me, ¡°I honestly wasn¡¯t expecting so many people to come.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t grow up in a small town, did you,¡± asked Aase back to me. By agreement, Aase and I had chosen not to talk much of our lives on Earth when we could help it, and never any specifics. We had no idea what personal information could lead to a spell like Enslavement taking effect, and instead of tempting fate, we decided to hold our tongues on any potentially dangerous topics. Hence, why Aase asked about my hometown these weeks after we had already started spending so much time together.

    ¡°Medium sized, why?¡±

    Aase nodded and said, ¡°Then you may not realise just how boring small town life is. Any public event, and you¡¯ll have lines out the door. This world probably doesn¡¯t have radios, movies, or TV of any kind, so something like this is probably the biggest thing to happen all year. Why wouldn¡¯t people crowd in?¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± I remarked, horrified. Yeah. I think I understood now. I¡¯d just put in motion something I had absolutely no chance of controlling. If the events unfolding from here heated up too much, then it wouldn¡¯t be strange for a lot of people to die. My people, too. Or a human stampede. Oh, God, I really started hoping no one got trampled to death that day, especially me and Aase.

    The soldiers from my caravan forming the human barrier around the Nigeman criminals were beginning to get pushed back by the massive physical presence of the crowd, not because they were hostile or actively trying to push my soldiers around. The crowd was peaceful and curious. There were just so many people that there was no where else for them to go but closer to where the action was. The courtyard was beginning to look like Times Square on New Year¡¯s Eve, and the body heat had dispelled the cold completely. I took Aase¡¯s arm in mine to keep us from being separated in the jumbled up humanity on the cobblestones before the garrison. Aase still wasn¡¯t wearing a bra, huh.

    Jesus. There was a lake of people extending all the way out through the streets leading to the garrison.

    The sharp thudding of the large double doors of the garrison, wide enough for a large horse drawn carriage to be driven through, slammed open and four lines of soldiers marched out with a highly decorated man at their lead, and a few obvious sycophantic hangers on trailing just at his flanks. I may have missed it, but I thought the decorated guy said something to his Yes Men, and they started calling out orders. Yeah. He was the garrison captain alright.

    The soldiers of the garrison spread out, wearing full armor and carrying truncheons like my own people were. Damn. With all their faces covered, I had no way of telling who was and wasn¡¯t on my side in case things turned violent. I would definitely lose soldiers if I couldn¡¯t support them. Maybe I should have just nuked the garrison after all?

    The garrison soldiers reinforced the line and pushed the citizens back some, with a bit of bully tactics. Having nowhere else to go, the space between people lessened even more and Aase and I were packed up tight against one another. My own soldiers stepped back from the line at Callics orders and surrounded Nigeman¡¯s group, which in turn were laid out surrounding Nigeman¡¯s body on the flagpole.

    The garrison captain approached my soldiers and started saying something. It seemed like Gina was the one talking to him. Crap. My original plan had me whispering in her ear, like last night with the soldiers who showed up at Nigeman¡¯s mansion. But with so many people around, there was no way for me to get close enough for eavesdropping, so I had no idea what suggestions to buzz in Gina¡¯s ear.

    ...Eavesdropping? ...Well, it was worth a try.

    I channeled a few threads of power from my reservoir and made a spell of pure wind magic. I strung the lines of power together and split them apart, sending one half towards where the conversation between the garrison captain and Gina were talking. The other half I moved close to my ear. I experimentally listened to all the sounds that vibrated the part of my spell I was moving through the crowd, and it sounded something like tuning an old timey radio set. Lots of buzzing, half garbled voices from a dozen different sources, and a bit of a tinny quality on the sounds that did make it through intact. Thankfully the time it took to get the magic through the crowd could be measured in seconds, or I might have given up on the idea for the magic completely. Worst still, I might have missed some important part of the conversation. But as it stood, I was able to hear the garrison commander¡¯s distorted voice say, ¡°You don¡¯t have the rank to ignore my order, Specialist. Cut that man down, right now.¡±

    The garrison commander¡¯s voice had an edge of malice in it. He wasn¡¯t going to take no for an answer.

    Gina¡¯s warped voice responded, ¡°Well, my commanding officer does have the rank to ignore your order, Captain. And he especially wanted that man¡¯s remains to be publicly humiliated.¡±

    Nice cover, Gina. ...And not that far from the truth.

    ¡°What are you doing, Xander,¡± came Aase¡¯s whisper from my non-occupied ear.

    ¡°Listening in,¡± I whispered back.

    ¡°Well, let me listen, too,¡± Aase requested, half surprised and half demanding in a playful way. I didn¡¯t know why, but it was kinda cute. If it was any other situation, I may have toyed with Aase, but not then and there. I swung the receiving end of my magic between our two ears and Aase pulled in closer to hear.

    The garrison captain said, with no room for disobedience or interpretation, ¡°You will cut that man down immediately, or my own soldiers will do so, even if they have to go through you.¡±

    ¡°Kinda staticy,¡± said Aase, with her eyebrows furrowed.

    Gina responded, ¡°What does it matter, the man¡¯s dead. Hanging up there isn¡¯t making him any deader.¡±

    For some reason, that remark put a smile on my face.

    The garrison captain said, clamping down on bluster in the face of obstruction, ¡°I will not allow your insubordination to be the cause of disorder in my city. If the people figure out who is atop that flagpole, there may be dire consequences.¡±

    Oh. He wanted to keep things quiet for a cover up? I might not want a riot, but I sure as hell didn¡¯t want things peaceful.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I shouted at the top of my lungs, ¡°That¡¯s NIGEMAN up there! Nigeman is on that flagpole! Nigeman is dead!¡±

    And from there, echos of my shouts were repeated by various people in the crowd. The chain of shouts carried that info to the ears of every man, woman, and child in the courtyard, and the air of mild curiosity in the courtyard was irreversibly changed.

 Chapter 24: Mentality

    Captain Theen hated Rogert.

    Being assigned to be a garrison commander was the most effective and most infamous way for a military officer¡¯s career to end.

    Every time a vacancy for a garrison commandership reared it¡¯s head, the top brass of the military would decide which officer was the least effective in the field but still suited to military life, and they would offer them the ¡°opportunity¡± to take on the post of a garrison commandership. Those who accepted were quietly shuffled away, out of any active military service, barring national emergency. Those who tried to refuse the offer were struck with the stigma of refusing a commanding position, and could never be granted a promotion or a worthwhile position of leadership again. It was the way the Fulchas military culled those they considered inferior personnel.

    Captain Horatio Theen had been one of those that were culled.

    He¡¯d spent the last fifteen years as a mere Captain, when he¡¯d dreamed of becoming a General upon first entering the military. In those fifteen years, he¡¯d gained weight and lost muscle. He could still swing a sword, but he hadn¡¯t the fortitude for a day¡¯s march, like the lowest private could do. Theen had also had his hair go grey, on its journey to white. The hair above his temples had thinned. He¡¯d grown older, and felt the addition of every year. He¡¯d had to move his family out of the capitol to Rogert. Theen suspected that his wife still hadn¡¯t forgiven him for moving her away from the metropolitan life.

    But when the kickbacks started, things got a little easier. His increased income allowed him to make his family¡¯s dwelling a bit more comfortable than the local "rich" yokels were use to, and he could import the occasional finery and treats to ease his wife¡¯s longing for true city life. Even though Horatio Theen still had to look out over a city of dirt farmers living their pathetic lives out in the boonies of his magnificent nation, Nigeman had made his life a bit easier.

    The worry about the arrangement that had been made had lightly preyed upon Theen¡¯s mind from time to time, especially in those early weeks. But those worries had mostly dissipated. They had returned with full force the previous night, when Theen had heard about the commotion at Nigeman¡¯s estate. When the soldiers Theen had dispatched to try and take control of the situation had returned, with orders from Colonel Braug no less, Theen found it very hard to keep from vomiting from anxiety. As Captain Theen, honorable officer of His Majesty¡¯s Holy Army, he¡¯d had no choice but to follow the orders he¡¯d been given. As Horatio Theen, he¡¯d been up for most of the night wondering if he was going to be executed or wearing a Rose in the near future. Theen had debated which fate would be worse between his hurried, feverish dreams of the night, but had come to no solid conclusion.

    That was why, when Theen had seen Nigeman¡¯s body hung up on the pole, he¡¯d very nearly went mad from fear and anger. His one desire was to erase everything that had anything to do with his own corruption. Theen desired nothing more than to have Nigeman¡¯s body burned. Nigeman¡¯s house, burned. Nigeman¡¯s criminal lapdogs, burned. Theen wanted the slate wiped clean, quietly and brutally. But the military man in Theen had kept those rampant emotions in check, trying to use his position to reach his goals. Because Theen was up against Colonel Braug. A man who actually could burn away everything around him, and likely get away with it.

    In the deepest crevices of Theen¡¯s heart, the man wondered if he was really being kept in check by his military discipline, or if he was more afraid of Braug¡¯s wrath¡­

    Either way, Theen only needed to use his authority as the city¡¯s garrison commander to get the present conditions under control, and then destroy all evidence. Theen had been in the process of overreaching the stubbornness of the beast woman and ordering some of his men to bodily pull down Nigeman¡¯s remains when that voice from the crowd had set the gathered populace of the mud hole of Rogert off, hollering and cheering.

    When Theen heard that, it was only his military discipline that kept him from doing more than seizing up for a full five seconds instead of ordering his soldiers to forcefully clear the square of civilians. It was enough time for him to imagine the outcome in his head. His soldiers beating men and women with their truncheons. Spells being launched by his casters positioned atop the garrison walls. Dead and dying farmers and merchants along the ground, heads dented and bodies aflame. And his own inevitable courts martial for his hand in the event. Probably leading to a military execution.

    No. Not yet. It hadn¡¯t reached that point, yet, Captain Theen whispered to himself in his mind. But Theen was a military man. There was already a part of him that was resigned to that course of action. He grabbed one of his soldiers and gave him an order to relay. ¡°Have squads three, four, and five suited and ready at the garrison gates. After that, they do not move unless I give the order.¡±

    The private snapped a salute and ran into the garrison

    Theen turned on the beast woman and said, ¡°You have until my other squads are assembled to take that body down, or my men will go through you.¡±

    The beast woman, probably a catkin based on the tail, smiled the same way she did before when she deflected Theen''s earlier attempts of getting her to do what he bloody well ordered her to do, and opened her mouth with that fake grin on it. But before she could say anything, she closed her mouth and tilted her head a little, as though she had thought of something else just before speaking. Instead of another deflection, she smiled in a reconciliatory manner and said, ¡°Considering the situation, I suppose Colonel Braug¡¯s orders on the matter can be bent, slightly.¡± The catkin woman then turned towards the flagpole and ordered the body taken down while approaching it. Captain Theen followed her as she moved, out of some primal desire to be closer to the situation to exert maximum control, even though it led him into the heart of Colonel Braug¡¯s own soldiers and isolated him from his own.

    Theen had stood stiff and tall, his eyes not moving from the body of Nigeman as it was hauled down. He heard the jeers and cheers of the crowd though, asking for the man¡¯s remains to be hauled back up. One man from the crowd even called at Theen by name to leave Nigeman hanging for a rock throwing target. Once Nigeman was down and Theen was looking at the bloodstained remains of the man who¡¯d led him into corruption, Theen¡¯s feelings of guilt began to choke him. Theen couldn¡¯t stand to look at the body. ¡°Cover the man with something.¡±

    A beast man looked at Theen, then looked around himself before peering at Theen again through the slit in his helmet and asked, ¡°With what? Sir.¡±

    Theen normally would have caught the lack of respect in the soldier¡¯s voice, but his mind was not in a healthy place at that moment. Instead of reprimanding the soldier, he snapped out, ¡°Anything!¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have anything to cover him with. Sir.¡±

    Theen nearly erupted at that reply, but the shred of common sense he still had remaining led him to understand that there really wasn¡¯t anything that could serve as a shroud anywhere nearby. Instead, Theen merely said, ¡°Then turn him over. Face down, face down.¡±

    The beast man¡¯s eyes narrowed for a moment, appraisingly, Theen felt, then the beast man did as he was ordered without a word. After Nigeman¡¯s face was hidden from Theen¡¯s point of view, he looked around him again, and finally took in the faces of the prisoners who were all looking at him. Some fearfully. Some hopefully. One of the faces that were hopeful was one he knew. The face had suffered some damage, but there was a characteristic scar around his left eye that Theen recognized. The man had been the bag man who brought Theen his payments.

    Theen looked up from the man and demanded, ¡°Who are these men?¡±

    ¡°Prisoners, sir,¡± said the catkin woman. ¡°They are all verified subordinates of Nigeman, and culpable in his crimes of extortion of the local businesses, and a share in the guilt of the attempted murder of a military officer. Colonel Braug has had them all placed under arrest, and intends for you to handle their sentencing.¡±

    The scarred man was close to Theen, only a few feet away. The scarred man began begging Theen in incomprehensible words, gesturing with his bound hands for Theen¡¯s mercy and attention. Theen couldn¡¯t understand a single one of the man¡¯s mumbled pleas, but to his mind, it was a boldly delivered demand for Theen¡¯s intervention, to be set free to keep Theen¡¯s sins hidden and secret. The man¡¯s begging eyes looked sinister in Theen¡¯s dark imagination, and Theen unhesitatingly backhanded the scarred man to the ground and shouted, ¡°You will stay down and be quiet, or I will gut you like a boar!¡±

    Theen wiped a bead of spittle from his lip as he looked up to see his three squads lining up at the garrison gates. Soldiers loyal to him, willing to do anything he commanded of them. Seeing that, courage and stability returned to Theen¡¯s fear and guilt addled mind. And he began considering his situation rationally again. Theen lightly felt his hair to make sure it was properly combed back and still in place as he listened, really listened, to the crowd around him. They were amused. He looked at Colonel Braug¡¯s soldiers. They were outnumbered by his own. Theen was in command of the situation. He was the garrison commander, and his word was law in this city.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do such a thing, Specialist,¡± said Theen to the catkin woman. ¡°I have neither witnesses nor evidence to their crimes. It would be illegal for me to punish them when there is no proof of their having done anything to be punished for.¡±

    Theen smiled charmingly, the smile of a victor. He just needed to get these men out of the public view, and then he could deal with anyone who knew about his bargain with Nigeman. Theen smiled at the scarred man even more warmly than he had at the catkin woman. Then a voice called out from the crowd.

    ¡°Hey! They¡¯ve arrested Nigeman¡¯s goons as well! We don¡¯t have to be afraid of them anymore!¡±

    Theen¡¯s smile froze. For a good beat, he couldn¡¯t reconcile what he¡¯d just heard as being reality. But shortly after, the call was repeated through the assembled crowd, and cheering erupted. It felt like a harvest day celebration. Theen somehow felt the situation slipping from his grasp again, and was looking around at random at the cheering masses. Theen¡¯s eye came upon the cat kin woman who seemed to be looking into the crowd a moment before, but then turned slightly to look at Theen. Her eyes seemed like they were slightly narrowed in amusement.

    What? What¡¯s so funny!

    The catkin woman removed her helmet, lifted her hands, and shouted at the crowd, ¡°People of Rogert! If you want to see justice done, we need witnesses to these men¡¯s crimes! Who here will testify to these men¡¯s criminal behaviors!?¡±

    The crowd¡¯s wildness died down, the enthusiasm disappearing. A twisted and unsteady smile began spreading on Theen¡¯s face in the second or two before a voice from the crowd shouted, ¡°I will testify! I came upon those men ransacking a shop, and they nearly beat me to death for being a witness!¡±

    Theen looked out into the crowd, his face and mind both blank.

    ¡°I will testify! When the innkeeper was late to pay their extortion, those men came into my kitchen and smashed our dining plates, and dumped all our food on the floor! We couldn¡¯t feed anyone for days!¡±

    No. No. No no no.

    ¡°Those men hurt my daddy,¡± called out a little girl near the front edge of the crowd. The man standing near her tried hushing her up, but she called out, ¡°Tell ¡®em, daddy! Tell ¡®em what they did,¡± with tears in her eyes. Seeing that, the man was struck as numb as Theen felt before looking up with a resolution Theen thought he could never equal, and bellowed out of his barrel chest such that every ear in the garrison could hear.

    ¡°Those men,¡± the man pointed with a righteously wrathful finger, ¡°busted through my front door and broke my arm one night at dinner! They told me that it was because my boss refused to make a payment to them, and that if I didn¡¯t call out sick to the warehouse for a week, they¡¯d do the same to my daughter!¡±

    The atmosphere in the square changed abruptly once again. Condemnations of the bound men flowed out one after another. Deeds and crimes worthy of being imprinted with Roses a dozen times over rained down on Theen¡¯s ears. Soon, a chant arose in the square. It was the word Justice, in two beats, repeated over and over again. As that word punctuated in Theen¡¯s soul like the stabbing of a knife, Theen began to lose his grasp on reality again.

    Theen looked down, at the prisoners who knew his dark secrets. Theen looked up at the soldiers who held those men captive. Did they know Theen¡¯s secrets as well? Theen looked out over the sea of faces. It looked to him like every single one knew his secrets, and were personally condemning him with each repeat of their chant.

    Theen couldn¡¯t allow that.

    Theen silently stalked back to his soldiers at the garrison gate. With each step, his anger was fueled and his indignation increased. He was a Goddess cursed Captain in the Fulchas military. He was a fighting man who¡¯d sacrificed his career in that backwater shit hole of a city, and now some muck raking dirt farmers were going to try and bring him down. Theen would not have it. He¡¯d burn the city to the ground before he allowed that to happen.

    Having stalked his way before the soldiers under his command, Theen gathered air into his lungs and opened his mouth wide to be heard over the mocking chant of the gathered filth of the city.

    ¡°In the name of his Majesty, King Reynault Fulchas the Second,¡± started Captain Theen, borrowing the power of one greater than himself to order a crime against humanity, when his words were interrupted by a war trumpet. The sound echoed through the square in a way that only a wind magic enhanced horn could do. Theen turned his head and there he saw the crowds parting to let a procession of knights in their plate armor surrounding the figure of Lord Bahwell who was comfortably sitting in the saddle of a horse being led through the quickly calming crowd. For while everything about the morning had been unexpected, this event was even more so. The Lord of the city only ever left the grounds of his manor for entertainment or cursory appearances at festivals. For the Lord to leave his manor, and more over, the wealthy district of the city, for any reason was noteworthy and caused quite the amicable stir.

    Theen froze mid word. Mid thought. His mouth didn¡¯t close even as he turned to face his Lord as the led horse was brought close to him. Theen still didn¡¯t close his mouth as Lord Bahwell dismounted and brought Theen aside to ask, a glowing and magnanimous smile on his face, ¡°What the fuck is this shit, Horace? You only had one job to do in the arrangement, and I wake up to this? Ha, ha,¡± fake laughed Lord Bahwell amicably as he appeared to affectionately pat Theen on the back.

    Bahwell had the face of an aging saint, all smiles and kindness, with eyes as warm as a summer day. He was a gifted speaker and a better deceiver. But Theen knew he¡¯d been born low in the pecking order of the Bahwell family line, and since taking over as the head of the family was impossible no matter what he did, Lord Bahwell had used all his skills to get appointed the Lord of Rogert, a cushy position for a politician where nothing was expected of him aside from annual grain harvests. And Lord Bahwell had obtained that position with absolute cunning and veiled brutality.

    Theen began burbling his apologies, hoping for some mercy from his Lord, when Bahwell interrupted him, all smiles and sunshine, ¡°Keep your voice down you retard, or people will overhear us. Now, calm yourself and tell me exactly what our position is, and I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±

    Theen nodded appeasingly, pulled in closer to Bahwell, and explained everything he knew. Theen choked up for a moment when he thought he saw Bahwell¡¯s mask of kindness slip for a second. Near the end of Theen¡¯s explanation, he very nearly let slip that he had intended to settle the matter with force, but instead said, ¡°And¡­ well, here we are,¡± lamely.

    ¡°Alright, old friend,¡± said the man with a smile as heartwarming as an apple pie, ¡°Stand close to me, keep your mouth shut, and for Goddess¡¯ sake, pretend you¡¯re not incompetent.¡±

    Lord Bahwell walked over to Colonel Braug¡¯s soldiers and greeted them like old friends. ¡°How good to see all of you,¡± said Bahwell. ¡°Is Colonel Braug present? It would be nice to have the chance to speak with him. It¡¯s been seven years since Lady Markerest¡¯s ball, after all.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    The specialist stiffened and said, ¡°The Colonel? He-¡± her head tilted slightly and she corrected herself, ¡°-The Colonel said that a matter like the turning over of common criminals was too insignificant for him to attend personally. He is busy preparing for our immediate departure.¡±

    ¡°Ha-ha. Just so, just so,¡± said Lord Bahwell. ¡°I suppose I shouldn¡¯t keep you long. Captain Theen here told me that we have a great many witnesses to these men¡¯s crimes. That¡¯s all well and good, but words and testimony can only go so far. I do sincerely hope you have some tactile evidence of Mr. Nigeman¡¯s alleged wrongdoings? I do not doubt you, or the fine people of the town. But judgement requires evidence, given in good faith.¡±

    If one were looking close enough, one might be able to see the warmth of Bahwell¡¯s eyes dim to a chill for a moment as he said that. The catkin specialist stood a little more rigid and the beast man with the sergeant rankings on his shoulders brought a hand closer to his weapon while trying to appear not to have been put on guard. Before anything else could happen, though, the catkin woman said, rather plainly and directly, ¡°Yes. We discovered two ledgers in Nigeman¡¯s estate. One honest, and one corrupt. All of the evidence of Nigeman¡¯s wrongdoings should be in there.¡±

    ¡°Should,¡± asked Lord Bahwell. ¡°You don¡¯t know for sure?¡±

    ¡°None of our soldiers are skilled in account keeping. And while Colonel Braug could tell the money in the ledger came from crooked means, he could not make head or tails of any outgoing payments. He decided to leave the puzzling out of the ledger and it¡¯s numbers to you. Provided you make sure every one of these men pay for their crimes, and their affrontery to my commanding officer.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± said Lord Bahwell, putting various meanings into the word. ¡°What if I find there to be insufficient evidence in this ledger?¡±

    ¡°Colonel Braug is confident you will find enough evidence in the ledger to sentence all the guilty. And if matters turn out otherwise, he will be greatly annoyed.¡±

    ¡°Oh-ho. That confident? This must be quite the damning evidence indeed. May I see it for a moment? Just to confirm its worth as evidence against the men here?¡±

    The catkin woman¡¯s ear flicked a little, and then she turned and called a soldier, fairly short with a sturdy build, over to her and received two books from him. The catkin woman took a long look at the covers of the books, the ledgers, and handed one of them to Lord Bahwell, who took it, opened it, and asked while scanning its contents, ¡°Is this the infamous ledger you¡¯ve been going on about?¡±

    The catkin woman said, ¡°No. This is the one,¡± and opened the ledger to a cloth bookmarked page to show to Lord Bahwell. Lord Bahwell¡¯s eyes took in the contents of the page and he made his warmest smile yet. ¡°Is there a reason you did not hand that ledger over to me?¡±

    ¡°Your hands are currently occupied holding the other ledger, my Lord. It would have been a mistake for me to have taken any other course of action.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I agree¡± said Lord Bahwell, dipping his head forward in assent. ¡°Well, was there anything else Colonel Braug wanted before handing the punishment of these criminals over to me?¡±

    ¡°Just your assurance that Nigeman¡¯s underlings be properly disposed of, and his criminal organization destroyed for their hubris.¡±

    ¡°That I can promise,¡± said Lord Bahwell, all smiles and sunshine. ¡°I am pleased to be the agent of justice in this situation, and I promise to all you fine people,¡± Lord Bahwell said, addressing the crowds, ¡°That all of these men will be adorned with at least the Red Rose in the near future!¡±

    The crowd began to cheer, loud and hearty at their Lord¡¯s declaration. While they were doing so, Lord Bahwell handed the non-incriminating ledger to Theen and reached out his hand for the criminal book, saying, ¡°And pray tell Colonel Braug, that I will be more than happy to welcome him to my city in the future. Perhaps in another seven years?¡±

    * * * * *

    The cheers of the crowd continued for a while, even after the criminals were escorted into the garrison by the soldiers. Lord Bowel and the garrison captain disappeared into the imposing grey brick building as well, but left a lot of their soldiers and knights outside who were calling out for people to calm down and disperse. After a few minutes, people started doing just that in clumps and groups, realizing that the show was over.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s quite a way to start your day,¡± said Aase, still clinging to my arm to keep from getting separated.

    ¡°Yup,¡± I said offhandedly, just before delivering my joke. ¡°The day can only go downhill from here.¡±

    ¡°Why would you say such a horrible thing, Xander,¡± asked Aase, annoyance and disappointment apparent in her voice and on her face.

    Okay, I obviously was in the wrong here, apparently. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Aase,¡± I said reflexively, trying to repair the mood I¡¯d ruined. ¡°I said it as a joke.¡± I mean, a day when you successfully take revenge on someone and publicly neuter potential obstacles is a good day from start to finish, right?

    ¡°It¡¯s not a joke, Xander. It¡¯s the truth. Because now we have to head right back to the inn, and immediately leave the city. I didn¡¯t even get to do any shopping, and there¡¯s so many things I wanted to get. And because of all those terrible people, I won¡¯t have the chance to get any of them.¡±

    Wow, Aase was really pouting, in a low key resigned to fate kind of way. Well¡­ it¡¯s an idea I had only just come up with on the spot, but it might work¡­

    ¡°Come with me, Aase. I have an errand to run, and things might pan out.¡±

    Aase did indeed choose to come with me, hanging onto my arm even after getting away from the crowds; I guess it had just started feeling natural by that point. We went past the inn we were using and turned at what I counted as the third opening between buildings, into the alley, and met up with Wyatt and the urchins. ...That sounds like a grunge band name.

    I recognized some of the kids as guides from the night before, but all the kids were exploding with delight and laughter from the morning¡¯s shenanigans. These back alley kids were one of the very few people in this entire city who knew what had been happening in that square this morning, and they were wringing that joy dry to the last drop. After a minute or two of hearing the kids going on and on in their excitement, I decided to butt in (or they¡¯d probably have gone on forever.)

    ¡°Kids! Kids! I came to give you your pay. If you want it, line up nice a straight.¡± They complied, but their line up was crooked as all hell. I started at one end and placed a one third Sul coin in each outstretched hand in turn. One of the kids broke out of line and tried to sneak in at the end, but I ignored that. The most satisfying of the payouts for this group was the one I gave to Wyatt, as, per our agreement, I had already given him a small advanced payment for convincing as many of the kids in his gang to run around advertising the performance at the garrison that morning. Wyatt was learning his business lessons well.

    After I¡¯d told the last kid in line, the one who tried to get paid twice, ¡°Nice try,¡± I said, ¡°Alright kids, now that I¡¯ve given you something, what do you say?¡±

    They all looked at one another, some shrugged, and one suggested, ¡°I¡¯m not giving it back?¡± Aase giggled, apparently thinking it adorable.

    I rolled my eyes and said, ¡°You say Thank You. Try it now.¡± The kids did so, a pleasant, though dissonant chorus of child voices. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Now, if any of you want to earn another tenth of a Sul, Aase here could use someone to show her to a shop where she can buy something she wants.¡±

    Aase gasped a little and said, ¡°Oh, Xander,¡± not adding the words, ¡®you shouldn¡¯t have.¡¯

    ¡°We only have enough time for Aase to buy something from one shop, and then you¡¯ll need to escort her back to the inn,¡± I hooked a thumb to vaguely indicate our lodging. ¡°Who wants to do it; raise your hand.¡±

    Several hands shot up, waving wildly, so I said, ¡°Aase, pick one to guide you.¡±

    ¡°Only one?¡±

    I had to stifle a smirk at Aase¡¯s playful pouting (it was funny, not cute like her authentic pouting earlier), and told her that yes, she could only choose one. She picked a little girl in oversized coveralls and a large floppy hat to lead her. After confirming that Aase did in fact have Sul for shopping, I waved the two off and, as they turned the corner and disappeared, I turned towards the remaining urchins and asked for one of them to lead me as well.

    * * * * *

    ¡°I made good time, if I do say so myself,¡± I said myself as I entered the inn¡¯s stable and vehicle storage lot through the back way with a nondescript sack of paper nestled in my arm. ¡°Has Aase made it back yet,¡± I asked Gina who met me as I entered the broad patch of tamped down dirt we¡¯d been keeping our wagons parked in over the night. Gina¡¯s reply was a negative. I must have made better time than I¡¯d thought. ¡°Well, when she gets back, lead her, Daphne, and Mercy to me. There¡¯s something I¡¯d like to take care of immediately.¡±

    Gina gave a rather relaxed affirmative which may or may not have had anything to go with the allnighter the entire caravan had pulled the previous night, and I went off to do my own thing as the horses were lashed in place. I mused over how I was going to give the soldiers turns to sleep on the moving wagons without compromising our travel speed when I heard the voice of the innkeep behind me say, ¡°Ah, yer here! I¡¯ve been gettin¡¯ the brush off from all¡¯a these guys, but now that you¡¯ve come back we can get somewhere.¡±

    I took a deep breath, and begged for patience from either my God, or this world¡¯s Goddess. Then I set my bag down in my nearby bed wagon, and interrupted the innkeep¡¯s continued pestering for my attention with a ¡°What do you want? We¡¯ve already paid you our lodging fees.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here about, son,¡± said the innkeep. ¡°I just wanted to hear it from you, personal like. You sacked Nigeman¡¯s house, right? His house and office?¡±

    Sacked? Not how I¡¯d have put it. ¡°His home and office were the same building, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°So?¡± I consciously evaded answering his original question.

    ¡°So, if you done that, I figure there¡¯s a good chance you found the money what Nigeman done swindled out of us poor merchants.¡±

    ¡°And?¡± I really didn¡¯t like the direction of this conversation.

    ¡°Well, I was thinking that it was only right for you to share that money back out with the business owners of the city. It was our money in the first place after all, and so we have a right to getting it back, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    My jaw set and I tried to bore a hole through the innkeep¡¯s head with my eyes as I definitively told him, ¡°No, I would say you and the others of this city don¡¯t deserve a single coin of Nigeman¡¯s money.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s our money,¡± complained the innkeep, not getting the message unless it grabbed him by the throat. So I grabbed him, two handed, by his shirt collar and slammed him into the side of my bed wagon, pinning him against the wood paneling.

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn whose money it was. And if it was your money, then all the more reason for me to keep it. I nearly died because not a single one of the cowardly shits who reside in this cesspool of a town were willing to lift a single fucking finger to help me. Not even the shop owner I saved from getting his ass kicked by those thugs! Because I consider it full payment for getting rid of Nigeman for all of your sorry asses. So I owe you nothing! Understand?!¡±

    This time I could feel the fire smoldering in my eyes, the wild anger and outrage of the suffering I underwent because these people couldn¡¯t be bothered to take care of their own bullshit. That they needed some random stranger to come in and solve all their problems for them, and still they had the raging indecency to ask for more, like an entitled six year old. I pressed my knuckles into the innkeep¡¯s throat until he started bobbing his head in agreement and asking my pardon. I gave it to him.

    The innkeep sunk down a bit as I let go of his shirt, and he felt around his neck, not taking his eyes away from my own. I said, in that calm, even tone of voice people could only manage when they were barely keeping their tempers in check, ¡°Get out of here before I decide to charge you Asshole Tax. Go.¡±

    Thankfully it was several minutes before Aase returned. It gave me a chance to calm down (everyone was avoiding me while I did that) and then find Tobias Hateen and set a little something up. I wasn¡¯t quite done with my plotting for the day.

    When Gina had brought the rounded up womenfolk of the caravan (okay, that sounded bad even in my own head, gonna try and never use womenfolk again) and I was able to take care of the last order of business before we all left Rogert. The horses were hitched up, everyone was packed and ready to march. Specifically holding up our procession, I pulled the paper bag out of the bed wagon and said to the assembled ladies, ¡°Every one of you has been of enormous help to me, (except Mercy,) and I wanted to thank you. Aase, Daphne, for saving me, in multiple meanings of the word, I¡¯d like the two of you to have these.¡±

    I pulled out a tall glass bottle with squared sides and curved corners, handed one to Aase and it''s nonidentical twin to Daphne. When I did, I said, ¡°Aase, I got you rose scented perfume. I would have gotten a white rose scent, but the closest they had was normal rose scent with a white label.¡±

    Aase was shocked almost to the point of speechlessness, but recovered quickly to say her thanks and chew on her lips a little in happiness.

    ¡°Daphne, I got you a peach blossom scent because, well, it seemed appropriate for some reason. I dunno.¡±

    Daphne was able to be a lot more eloquent in her thanks, though only slightly less shocked. I guess she really wasn¡¯t expecting me to be showing people gratitude or something. Man. Is that what all the soldiers I¡¯d enslaved thought of me? Slight downer.

    ¡°Well good for you,¡± said Gina as she shifted her weight to turn away.

    ¡°Gina,¡± I caught her attention before she departed. ¡°You did an incredible job of keeping up with my instructions, and we never would have been able to pull a fast one on the garrison commander and Lord Bowel without you. I¡¯d like you to have this as thanks.¡±

    I handed Gina a simple but well made bracelet of polished wood. It had no clasp, it was all one piece. It was big enough to be slid over a scrunched up hand, but small enough that it wouldn¡¯t easily slide off over a person¡¯s normally shaped hand. The polished wood had a lot of knots and imperfections in it in addition to the wood grain, leaving it a mottled pattern of light and dark browns.

    ¡°I thought it would go well with your hair,¡± I said.

    Gina just held the bracelet in the palm of her hand, staring at it for a while. It was like she couldn¡¯t compute it for some reason, and every time she tried there was some kind of logic error. Finally she lifted her line of sight (thank God, it was starting to get awkward) and asked, ¡°Why?¡±

    A very real part of me wanted to brush the question off, but there was something in Gina¡¯s tone that sort of¡­ it slipped past my usually omnipresent desire for privacy and unwillingness to actually let people know just how important emotions really were to me. Not as important as logic, though, but¡­ God. They were important.

    I sounded out my response slowly and deliberately, trying to say everything I felt in as few words as possible. The words I chose were, ¡°Because I wanted to do something today¡­ that was nice.¡±

    The women around me were silent for a time, long enough to get my poker face back in place for me to finish up with the gift giving. ¡°Mercy,¡± I said, ¡°You really didn¡¯t bring much to the table the last few days, but you tried hard, and I appreciate that. And when I saw this, I thought of you. I¡¯d like you to have it.

    Into Mercy¡¯s outstretched hand, I placed a nice fat potato.

    ¡°I hope you enjoy it,¡± I concluded, and walked away. I swear I could hear the gals stifling laughter out of politeness. But then I heard Mercy¡¯s authentically puzzled voice say, ¡°Perhaps it was the eyes that made him think of me?¡±

    My strut was knocked right the hell out of me in that way that only happens when a situation you knew you totally owned was flipped on it¡¯s head, I looked back, and saw Aase and Gina desperately holding in laughter while Daphne gave a neutral emotion and confused faced Mercy an affectionate hug.

    Damn. Mercy be cray-cray.

    ¡°Callic,¡± I called. The big side of beef came over and asked if we could get going already. ¡°In a minute. Callic, it wasn¡¯t just the ladies that did a good job in the past twenty four hours. You did as well. I might not have been able to beat Nigeman if you hadn¡¯t cornered him to the point where he had to show his trump card in battle. In appreciation for your contribution, I give you this apple. Enjoy it in good health.¡±

    ¡°An apple¡± cried Callic in wholly justified indignation. ¡°I got my guts sliced open, and you give me a damn apple!?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d have given you something nicer if your accomplishment had actually been beating Nigeman. Try harder next time, Callic. Now, I¡¯m heading to my bed wagon,¡± I said, crumpling up the paper bag and dropping the thing on the ground. ¡°Let me know when we¡¯re outside of the city limits. Leave the talking to Gina.¡±

    I returned to my bed wagon with a refreshed smile on my face.

    * * * * *

    Callic gripped the apple in his hand hard. Not hard enough to shatter it, just hard enough for a fast ball. Callic pulled his hand back, and lifted his left leg up for added momentum.

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing,¡± demanded the voice of Callic¡¯s girlfriend, Iyleen. Callic¡¯s head turned like a child caught mid-misbehavior. ¡°You know how I feel about wasting food,¡± Iyleen concluded, her arms crossed in front of her.

    Callic corrected his stance to be on two legs again, holding the apple gently as he said, half amiably and half whiny, ¡°I was only gonna hit Xander in the back of the head with it.¡±

    Iyleen held her disapproving position.

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Callic, ¡°I¡¯m sorry for nearly ruining a good apple. ...Wanna share it?¡±

    Iyleen¡¯s lips wiggled a little in thought and consideration, before tilting her head in tacit forgiveness while saying, ¡°Nah, we have a wagon train to get moving. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    As the two turned around, there was Tobias Hateen, the blacksmith¡¯s son who interrupted them mid stride by saying, ¡°Sergeant Moraan, sir. The Boss ordered me to give this to you after his gift.¡± Tobias then held out what Callic recognized as being Nigeman¡¯s sword, even while sheathed.

    ¡°The hell,¡± Callic asked in suspicion and revulsion.

    ¡°Yeah, what he said¡± exclaimed Iyleen, getting a similar intonation.

    ¡°The Boss said that since he couldn¡¯t use the sword himself he wanted the best fighter in the, well, he¡¯s calling us a caravan, to have the sword. And then he named you. I¡¯m also supposed to teach you how to use it and maintain it, or maintain it for you if you can¡¯t. But that¡¯s for later. So, uh, here you go, sir.¡±

    Tobias nearly had to push the sword into Callic¡¯s grasp, leaving Callic standing there with an apple in one hand, and a sword in the other, not feeling sure if he actually wanted either one. Callic and Iyleen looked at each other, at the sword, the apple, then glanced over their shoulders to the bed wagon that Aase was climbing into at that moment, when Callic looked back at Iyleen and said, ¡°He¡¯s still an asshole.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± agreed Iyleen. ¡°Total asshole.¡±

    The pair then went to their positions in the wagon train, with Callic depositing his apple into the hand of Kyl Benko as he passed him. Kyl looked at the apple in confusion for a moment before taking a bite out of it.

 Extra Chapter 5: SCDK Christmas Special

    In a dimension of pure darkness, as though there was not a single light in all of existence, a single spotlight appeared, shining down and illuminating a single person. The man was dressed immaculately in a burgundy colored suit and tie of glossy silk, with a pure black shirt, which accented his style. It was a garish choice of wardrobe, suitable only for a man who wanted to catch the eyes of others and highlight how confident and dangerous he really was. The clothing was not the most prominent feature the man possessed. That would be his hair.

    The man¡¯s hair started a pure, light consuming black at the roots, and slowly gained color as it extended down his gently bemused features. The black turned to a deep red, which turned into a glowing red, until finally taking on the glowing orange color of superheated metal. The man¡¯s haircut looked as though it was held in place by hair gel as the hair was combed back behind the ears and hanging halfway down his neck.

    The figure bowed, his act of politeness simultaneously looking extremely dignified and sarcastic at the same time. As the figure lifted his head back up, he said, ¡°Welcome readers, to the Stop Calling Me A Demon King Christmas Special!¡±

    Lights erupted from nowhere, illuminating a gaudy and over decorated sign, stating that this place was, in fact, the location for the SCDK Christmas Special. The word Special was written under another word, ¡°Spectacular,¡± that had been crossed out in green paint. Perhaps because green was a more festive color than black?

    ¡°The characters of SCDK would like to thank all the readers out there, and celebrate Christmas together. And in the spirit of the season, we¡¯re doing this by putting on a performance with all of you out there at home in mind! I, Chaz, the Entity of Pure Chaos will be your master of ceremonies for the night. And now, without further ado, our first performance is a rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas by my own special Chaos Choir!¡±

    Chaz disappeared into the dark under him as though being absorbed into quicksand. From the area past where the entity stood, the darkness suddenly seemed to take on a tactile nature and part like a set of stage curtains. A set of choir risers stoond beyond, with over a hundred people just beyond of every height, shape, and gender. Yet all of them possessed the exact same face of Chaz, including a chubby midget who was as fat as he was round with horribly crossed eyes and was bellowing out a bass voice that could shake the room. With perfect unison, the Chaos Choir began to sing their song.

    On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, a Baka gave to thee-

    Twelve Force Choked Soldiers

    Eleven Chained Up Crooks

    Ten Acts of Violence

    Nine Street Urchins

    Eight Pointless Sub-Plots

    Seven Geeky References

    Six Confusing Jokes

    FIVE EX-TRA CHAPTERS!

    Four Potential Waifus

    Three Travel Chapters

    Two Summoned Protagonists

    And An Entity of Pure Chaoooooooos

    The tubby midget opens his choir robe to reveal that he was, in fact, a HUMAN BOMB!

    <h1 style="text-align: center">KABOOOOOOOOM!</h1>

    The stage erupts in fiery explosions to make a Michael Bay movie green with jealousy, as each member of the choir explodes in turn. From the smouldering wreckage of the choir stands emerges an immaculate and untouched Chaz who kindly waves to the home audience, saying, ¡°Merry Christmas, everyone, and enjoy the show!¡±

    <hr>

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Callic The Red Nosed Raindog

    There once was a raindog by the name of Callic, who had an extremely red nose. This nose was quite unusual, in that Callic hadn¡¯t drunk nearly enough booze for his nose to shine so brightly. This brought suspicion upon Callic of being some kind of dangerous mutation, that would turn upon his raindog peers one day is bloody wrath, and he was thus ostracized and mocked by all the other raindogs.

    ¡°I hate being a raindog outcast,¡± complained Callic to his secret (lol) girlfriend in their raindoghouse.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry Callic,¡± said Iyleen, who was wearing a set up fake puppy ears for the part. They were a completely different color from her own natural hair, showing just how little funding Stop Calling Me A Demon King gets from its viewership. If people had just donated more through Patreon</a>, perhaps it would have resulted in better wardrobing? ¡°I at least know that you¡¯re a wonderful raindog, and that one day, you¡¯ll be admired by-¡±

    Pound pound!

    There came a knocking at the door, which Callic and Iyleen seemed to be completely confused by.

    ¡°Ahem. I know you¡¯ll be a wonderful raindo-¡±

    POUND POUND!

    ¡°Ah! You¡¯ll be a wonderful rain-!¡±

    POUND POUND POUND POUND!

    ¡°Stop stepping on our lines,¡± shouted Callic as he threw open the front door to his raindoghouse. ¡°We¡¯ve still got two full pages until your entrance!¡±

    The figure that emerged through the opened door didn¡¯t seem to care, and just started delivering his line. The figure was Xander, adorned in a red santa suit, but without the padding for the full belly and a crappy beard held on by an elastic band. The lacking wardrobe budget had struck again!

    ¡°Callic the Red Nosed Raindog,¡± said Xander, completely stomping all over Callic and Iyleen¡¯s roles. ¡°I need your toxic waste nose to guide my sleigh this night! Now jump to it, I have a quota to make!¡±

    Xander Claus started pushing Callic out the door and quickly strapped him into the harness to the sleigh. Xander Clause then climbed onto the driver¡¯s seat while Callic looked around and asked, ¡°Wait, where¡¯s the other raindogs?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t need ¡®em, you¡¯re doing all the heavy lifting tonight Callic.¡±

    ¡°What, that¡¯s redicul-WHIPCRACK-ouch!¡±

    ¡°On Slave Labor! On Cruelty! On Exploitation! On Trafficking! On Crimes Against Humanity! A-hahahahaha!¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it be ¡®HOHOHO¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Not feeling it!¡±

    WHIPCRACK!

    ¡°Ouch!¡±

    ¡°A-hahahahaha!¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you enjoying this too much?!¡±

    ¡°Right back at¡¯cha Callic! I saw how happy you were after elbowing me in the face while we were filming Maoujanai Chapter 1</a>!¡±

    ¡°That was in a different reality! And the script said I could!¡±

    ¡°So you don¡¯t deny enjoying it?!¡±

    ¡°Not at all!¡±

    ¡°Well I¡¯ll enjoy my script saying I can whip you!¡±

    WHIPCRACK!

    ¡°Ouch!¡±

    ¡°Mush BITCH! Mush! A-hahahahaha!¡±

    And a Merry Christmas was had by all.

    <hr>

    The figure of Chaz relaxing in front of a cozy fire in a comfortable armrest chair emerges. For some reason, Chaz was wearing a robe over his fancy suit while sitting. This was not a stylish robe as one would expect, but rather a cheap ass third hand terrycloth robe with various happy faced emojis sewn on that were half ripped off from the wear and tear of age and laundry runs in a crappy washer and drier.

    ¡°Hello, reader,¡± says Chaz as though just noticing your presence. He finishes up poking at the fire with a poker, the fire reacting with a haunting howl as though from an extradimensional monstrosity that is writhing in agony, before setting the poker aside and sitting back into his chair.

    ¡°Welcome back. I hope you¡¯re enjoying the show so far. As a small break while the paramedics see to Callic, I thought I would share a special little event we here at Stop Calling Me A Demon King have prepared for you all. Every member of the cast had written down what Christmas means to them, and I have those notes right here in this Sorting Hat.¡±

    ¡°Help me,¡± cries the hat, ¡°I¡¯m being held against my will!¡±

    Chaz quickly punches the hat, knocking it out cold, ¡°Ahaha, he¡¯s such a kidder. Well, the first note says¡­ ¡®What is Christmas? I¡¯ve never heard of it before.¡¯ Hmm. Uh, second one says, ¡®Will there be food?¡¯ Well, okay. Third one says, ¡®A reason to have a heartwarming family gathering, and rigidly enforced tradition. Because without tradition, all family values break apart¡­¡¯ Uh¡­ Fourth one! ¡®Block buster video game releases!¡¯ Well, I suppose¡­ The fifth one¡­ oh, man. I can¡¯t possibly read this one on the air. Is this what goes on in that guy¡¯s head? The next is¡­ illegible¡­ Um¡­ Okay, this one says, ¡®An opportunity to carefully study the social traditions and norms of the Subjects, and use them to further one¡¯s understanding of the creatures that populate the other world¡­¡¯ Okay, I think there¡¯s something very wrong with the people in this fictional series¡­¡±

    Saying thus, Chaz gently tosses the Sorting Hat aside, into the fireplace, where screaming and wailing break out as the flames take on horrible clawing qualities and began greedily, though not swiftly, devouring the hat. Speaking over the noise, Chaz warmly says with a kind smile, ¡°Please enjoy the next segment.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    <hr>

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Wyatt and the Toy Factory

    Dear Santa,

    I¡¯ve been a good little street urchin this year. I¡¯ve hardly stolen anything that I didn¡¯t need in order to survive, and I haven¡¯t tormented any stray cats for fun either. While I¡¯m confident that this alone is enough to put me on the Nice List, I just wanna explain that Pete totally had it coming, and it was just a baby tooth I knocked out, so it totally doesn¡¯t count. And for my gift this year, there¡¯s only one thing I want. It¡¯s to have a tour of your toy factory, Santa, which is something I¡¯ve dreamed of for years.

    Signed, Wyatt.

    * * * * *

    ¡°Wyatt,¡± called the voice from outside Wyatt¡¯s home. ¡°Wyatt, this is Santa!¡±

    Wyatt opened the door, his eyes gleaming to find a Xander Claus standing there, in all his red suited and poorly bearded magnificence. ¡°Santa,¡± cried Wyatt, ¡°I thought you¡¯d come down the chimney!¡±

    In a happy voice, because Xander couldn¡¯t do the deep Jolly of a real Santa Impersonator, he said, ¡°You live in a refrigerator box, kid. Don¡¯t ask the impossible. So, you wanted that tour or not?¡±

    ¡°Do I ever!¡±

    ¡°Good, jump in the sleigh, and put this bag over your head. Santa needs to keep his workshop¡¯s location Undisclosed for security purposes.¡±

    ¡°Okay!¡±

    After getting on the piloting seats of the sligh and donning the black cloth bag, Wyatt feels a sharp pain in his arm. ¡°Ouch,¡± the child exclaimed. ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°Just a little something to knock you out until we reach the workshop. Sleep tight kid.¡±

    And with that, Wyatt blacked out.

    * * * * *

    Some time later, there was a sudden pain in Wyatt¡¯s other arm, and a tingling all through his brain, rocketing him into full wakefulness. Wyatt sat bolt upright and found that not only was he no longer wearing the black hood, but the sleigh was now parked in front of a large snow covered warehouse in an industrial district of some town.

    ¡°Welcome to ¡®Toy Foundry 01¡¯ kid,¡± said Xander Claus. ¡°It¡¯s the nerve center of my operation. It may not look like much from the outside, but just you wait.¡±

    Xander Claus strode over to a large door and knocked a set rhythm, to which a panel in the door slid open and two eyes, as cold and clear blue as ice peered out. The panel closed and the door opened. On the other side was a black armored guard with a halberd slung from a shoulder, and atop the sternly blank metal of the helmet was a festive Santa cap, and a lightly ringing bell on the tip. Wyatt was very nearly intimidated by the figure, but the hat kinda ruined it¡¯s presence.

    ¡°Keep up the good work, Mur,¡± said Xander Claus as he pushed the kid past the opened door and guard.

    ¡°Who was that,¡± asked Wyatt.

    ¡°Santa¡¯s Little Enforcer, kid. I gotta keep the flies away somehow.¡±

    Xander Claus led Wyatt to a horribly rusted freight elevator, pushed the numbers in a sequence, and the back panel of the elevator slid open to a hall of immaculate white with a gentle green mint colored tile on the floor. Xander Claus led the way into the opened path, which had windows on each side looking down onto great chambers for assembly of various goods. There was a clean room for the assembly of laptops. There was a manufactory for action figures. There was a press room for Blue Ray DVDs. An assembly line for flat screen TVs. Every window in the facility held it¡¯s own secret workshop for the creation of the latest and most coveted goods in society.

    ¡°Woooooooow,¡± said Wyatt, his mouth agape, being surprised, wondered, and impressed at every window he passed.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d like it,¡± said Xander Claus. ¡°I get a rush of satisfaction every time I walk this path, myself. Enjoy the view while you can, we¡¯re nearly at my office.¡±

    ¡°Santa has an office?¡±

    ¡°Of course I do, what kind of Company President would I be without one?¡±

    ¡°I had no idea that Santa had a company! What company is it?¡±

    Xander Clause chuckled for a moment and said, ¡°If people even stopped for a moment to consider that, the answer would be obvious. Look right over there, kid, and you¡¯ll see.¡±

    The sign for Santa¡¯s company was plastered all over the side wall of the large subterrainian waiting room, with a large reception desk housing a secretary with hair that bordered on dark red and smouldering orange behind it, with a pair of animal ears on her head and a telepone headset on her ear. She was too busy to even spare a glance towards the kid as she greeted her boss, with one hand covering the mic of her headset.

    She said, ¡°Welcome back to Amazon.com, Mr. President.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Sion. Though I¡¯d only stepped out to run an errand. You alright, kid? You look like your brain just exploded.¡±

    ¡°Wh-wh-wh-,¡± stuttered Wyatt, working to get his mind to catch up with his mouth. It eventually happened, as he said, ¡°How can you run Amazon.com?! That¡¯s a huge company!¡±

    ¡°Step into my office, kid, and I¡¯ll explain.¡±

    After stepping through a grand double door, and closing it behind him, Xander sits Wyatt down in a cushy visitor¡¯s seat as Xander Claus takes off his red jacket and overalls, revealing a tailored business suit underneath. He then sat in the imposingly regal office chair that was behind a mahogany desk with the title of ¡°The REAL President Santa¡± on a placard display upon it.

    ¡°So, kid,¡± asked Xander Claus as he poured water into a pair of crystal drinking glasses from an ornate water pitcher. ¡°What exactly don¡¯t you get about my situation?¡±

    ¡°Well, I thought you live in the North Pole.¡±

    ¡°I use to live in the arctic, but never the North Pole. There¡¯s no real North Pole anyway, it¡¯s all supposition and conflicting measurements with scientists debating each other. But I moved once satellites became a concern. It wouldn¡¯t do for the governments to be able to pin down my location.¡±

    ¡°Well, I thought you had elves cobbling together teddy bears and rocking horses?¡±

    ¡°That shit¡¯s passe, kid. Went out of style like the jitterbug. If gifts are meant to have any meaning they have to be modern. What kinda washed out hack would I be if I didn¡¯t give people what they want, and pay for.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s up with that,¡± demanded Wyatt. ¡°Amazon is a business, people are buying your toys! You¡¯re supposed to give them to good little girls and boys!¡±

    ¡°The concept of morality is vague at best, kid. And I never gave anything away. Parents have always purchased the crap they give their kids, I was just the manufacturer and delivery man. I tell you what, having UPS doing the rounds for me has really saved me a lot of bother.¡±

    ¡°Hey, yeah! Amazon is doing business every day of the year! Not just Christmas! What¡¯s up with that!?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t people always wished for Christmas every day? Well, when I established Amazon, it was with that intention. Now people can buy gifts for other people, and especially themselves, every day and have them delivered to their homes. Seriously, what about that business model doesn¡¯t sound like Santa Claus?¡±

    ¡°But- But- You¡¯re making money off it!¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Xander Claus, leaning forward to point a dramatic finger, ¡°And so can you!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I need ambitious people, go getters who know what it¡¯s like to have nothing to really appreciate what real power and authority means. Entitled people are a dime a dozen, but a kid with nothing, who¡¯s willing to fight tooth and nail for a stolen candy bar, and then return it to the victim once retrieved, THAT¡¯S who I want in my company!¡±

    Wyatt¡¯s face went white. ¡°You actually knew about that?¡±

    ¡°Of course I did! Santa invented espionage to keep an eye on everyone in the world! While I may not have a Naughty and Nice List, Santa does have a Shit List. And I work hard to make sure it¡¯s up to date. And in my investigations, I found out about you. Kid, I want you to work for me.¡±

    ¡°Whaaaaaaaa-?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d have tasty food every day, a warm bed, suitable clothing, and a career that I¡¯ll be training you into from youth. It won¡¯t be an easy life, you¡¯ll face your share of business challenges, but it¡¯s one that brings money, power, and respect. And trust. If I can¡¯t trust you, Santa will toss you back on the street with a fabricated identity to discredit you entirely. Nothing personal, kid.¡±

    ¡°You want me to work in Santa¡¯s Business Structure?¡±

    ¡°Yes. But, I can understand if the reality is far less enticing than the fantasy of elves cobbling together rag dolls and shit, and you wouldn¡¯t want any part of-¡±

    ¡°Screw childhood fantasies, I wanna be rich and powerful!¡±

    ¡°That a lad! Welcome to the Company!¡±

    And everyone lived happily ever after. Except for Santa¡¯s enemies.

    <hr>

    ¡°Ah, welcome back,¡± said Chaz in his berobed glory, with Yoda slippers on his feet. ¡°I was just finishing up the decoration of the Christmas tree.¡±

    True to his words, Chaz had just placed the last ornament on the tree. Each ornament was a glimmering sphere of glass, or something that could be glass. On closer inspection, every sphere glitters and shimmers with the swirling image of a galaxy inside it. Images too real to be painted on, or held suspended through a manufacturing method. In fact, if one stared long enough at the ornaments, one could see that the swirling masses of starlight were actually slowly moving¡­

    ¡°Well, this concludes our Christmas Special here at Stop Calling Me A Demon King, and it¡¯s been a pleasure to have you all here. But as one last surprise, I¡¯d like to say that we have a very special guest with us here, live via video chat, it¡¯s Jesus Christ himself!¡±

    Chaz flashily indicates a laptop on an end table nearby, where the picture turns from pure black to the grainy pictures of a mediocre internet connection. In the image is a heavily tanned man with curly brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His face is displaying a kind natured smile and his eyes show a deep kindness and light hearted nature of compassion and humor in equal measures.

    *Thanks for having me here, Chaz! I always love connecting with people, I don¡¯t get many face to face encounters with humans outside of Heaven these days.*

    ¡°And it¡¯s a pleasure having you here, Lamb of Hosts. And happy birthday in December to you.¡±

    *That¡¯s nice of you to say Chaz. Even though I wasn¡¯t actually born this day, nothing makes me happier than people showing kindness and generosity to one another in my name. I really wish the Crusades had taken some cues from Christmas and not been so violent. Pretty depressing when people are killing others in my name, ya know.*

    ¡°I¡¯ve never minded it,¡± remarked Chaz thoughtfully.

    *Ha! Guess that¡¯s true.*

    ¡°Well, Holiest of Holies, was there anything in particular you wanted to say to the people of Earth?¡±

    *Oh, man, where to start?*

    ¡°Ahahaha, I know.¡±

    *Well, the biggest thing people bother me and my dad, you know, God the Father, with is why do bad things happen to good people, or why didn¡¯t God stop this bad stuff from happening. Well, for natural disasters, God created the Earth and then gave it to mankind to manage. So, that¡¯s like saying, ¡°Why did my car engine just break down when I haven¡¯t properly maintained it?¡±*

    *Then there¡¯s things like cancer. Yeah, that¡¯s a sucky one. But Mankind was designed to have bodies that start breaking down from the moment they¡¯re born. It keeps the population under control, and gives people a sense of urgency to actually do things they consider important within their lifetimes. It also increases the importance and amount of love they should be showing their children, because they are literally leaving their own futures for their kids to carry forward. And having loved ones die from disease? Well, it hurts because those people are important to you, just as all of you are important to me. So when any of you go through pain, I feel it as well. But I welcome you to the other side of existence after you¡¯ve come to know that pain, so that you can really, truly understand what an awesome thing eternal life in Heaven really is. Lucifer was created in Heaven, that¡¯s why he took it for granted and tried to depose my Father.*

    *Oh, sorry, I started going off track. Like I said, so much to say¡­*

    ¡°Well take your time if you need it. I know how much you like Sermons.¡±

    *Hahaha! You got me there. Anyway, finally, it¡¯s to do with murders, wars, terror attacks, and other monstrous acts that people do to one another. People often ask, ¡°God, how could you let this happen¡± when it¡¯s people who do these horrible things. Well, that goes back to Free Will. You see, my dad wants people to love one another, and love Him. But not out of obligation. Forcing people to love you is a really horrible thing, as I¡¯m sure you can imagine. That¡¯s why it doesn¡¯t mean a thing unless love is given freely. And with freedom to love, comes freedom to choose everything else. From something as pointless as choosing to wear white underpants or blue, to something as important as a Judge making a ruling in a murder trial. It all stems back to Free Will, and the Freedom to Choose. Unfortunately, there are people who choose to use their Free Will to hurt others. My Father and I can¡¯t interfere with that without revoking Free Will itself, which I¡¯m sure people don¡¯t want to lose. So, here I and my Dad are, always hoping people decide to do the right thing, and love their neighbors instead of robbing them at gunpoint.*

    Chaz spends some time nodding to himself and says, ¡°You must have a lot of disappointments in your days, then.¡±

    *Oh, an enormous amount. But, people are worth hoping, loving, and believing in. It¡¯s kinda what I do.*

    ¡°Well, thanks for joining us tonight, Jesus! And give your Father my regards!¡±

    *Haha! Will do, Chaz! Try not to consume any more realities, alright?*

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll try. Goodnight everybody! And have a Merry Christmas from all of us here at Stop Calling Me A Demon King, and Jesus Christ himself!¡±

 Chapter 25: Departure | Gate

    ¡°Coming up to the checkpoint,¡± said Essea into the back of the bed wagon where Aase and I were relaxing. I had given orders to Essea to give the two of us prior warning of our arrival at the gate leaving the city, and warning should anything go the way I didn¡¯t want it to. She was to be silent and coach the wagon otherwise.

    Aase turned over from her fully reclined position and got on her hands and knees on the mattress, bringing her face closer to the heavy cloth privacy flap to try and look through in order to get an idea of what was going on outside. I remained lying on my back, and only worked at listening as hard as possible. I tried for a moment to do that eavesdropping magic I did before, but without being able to tell where to send it to listen in on conversations, it meandered meaninglessly. I gave up on using the magic after hearing some woman talking about her terrible toe fungus. With that having failed, I just focused on my normal hearing, like I used to do when I was backstage during a play performance, just waiting for a cue and for anything and everything to go wrong.

    I was able to pick up a few tones that sounded like Gina¡¯s voice, muffled and distant. A male voice that was so ordinary it seemed to blend with the background to near obsolescence. After what felt like minutes, I heard Gina call, ¡°Move out!¡±

    There was the creak of strain against wood beams, some slight shaking, and then the thump of a rump against a wooden plank. It was Gina taking a seat on the bed wagon next to Essea, and after a few moments for what seemed like her checking for any observers, she said, ¡°We¡¯re in the clear, I think.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I said in a projected stage whisper. ¡°Any trouble?¡±

    ¡°The guard wanted to know our destination for the records, but I pulled military secrecy.¡± Gina¡¯s voice sounded amused. ¡°I had to tell him we were going south, though.¡±

    ¡°No other trouble?¡±

    ¡°Nope. Guys seemed bored, too. I¡¯m guessing he wasn¡¯t told to look out for us.¡±

    Aase asked, ¡°Is that a good sign?¡±

    ¡°I think so,¡± I said in response. Then I turned my head to give Gina a more directed thanks for getting us through the city gates. ¡°Thanks for the good work, Gina. ...Wait, you have a tail?¡±

    A slim feline tail of various browns and blacks had slipped through the flap that Aase was holding open. I moved a little, picked up the hanging corner of the flap, and opened it up wider to get a good look at Gina¡¯s backside. Holy crap. Gina really did have a tail, and her uniform pants kinda had a tailored split down the back that had a button closing it tight around the tail just under the belt looping around her waist.

    ¡°Holy, crap,¡± I said aloud, and then repeated, ¡°You have a tail?¡±

    Aase turned a confused face towards me, and Gina opened the wagon flap from her side stating, ¡°Of course I have a tail!¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t notice,¡± asked Aase, though it sounded like a statement.

    I asked back, ¡°Are you telling me you did?¡±

    ¡°Of course I did. Who wouldn¡¯t notice someone with a cat tail?¡±

    I released a sound that was something like a revelatory ¡°huh,¡± and took a closer look at the discovery. Gina¡¯s tail curled around with the same lazy self governed grace as a regular cat¡¯s tail, retaining its relatively narrow width all the way to where it joined with Gina¡¯s lower back, just above her rump. A very nicely proportioned rump, that looked both sturdy and soft. Athletic with a cushioning rounded layer of flesh that one would be lucky to wrap both hands around and- what the fuck was I thinking?!

    I snapped my attention away from Gina¡¯s really lovely butt, and worked my brain back to the angle of the tail, and a question formed that I instantly asked to get my mind to a more gentlemanly state. ¡°Does Callic have a tail, too?¡±

    Aase looked at me like there had to be something wrong with me, before saying, ¡°Yes, he does. He has a fluffy tail the same color as his hair. Are you really telling me you didn¡¯t notice that Gina and Callic have a tail, after all this time?¡±

    ¡°I guess I am,¡± I said, looking over at Aase.

    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t notice. I don¡¯t understand how you could pay so little attention to the world around you that you¡¯d fail to notice something like that,¡± said Aase, but I really wasn¡¯t listening. Because the thumps vibrating up from the wheels of the wagons from crossing over seams in the slab laid stones were causing a side effect that drew my attention like a magnet. With each bump and drop, Aase¡¯s chest moved and bounced. Aase was still in the four legged pose, with her bust being pulled down by gravity. Her chest seemed to jump, then bounce in rhythm, a rhythm that made me imagine myself laying under her as a slow but powerful piston rhythm moved us both in unison until- FUCK! Damn it, me! Brain out of the gutter!

    I forcefully pulled my attention from Aase¡¯s beautiful anatomy and brought my hands up to drag down the length of my face, giving me a tactile diversion while I started a staring contest with the roof of the wagon. ¡°Sorry,¡± I voiced out. For various reasons, but it seemed like the word that would most accurately fit my position in whatever was being said while I was out of it.

    Gina peeked back into the wagon bed asking and then remarking, ¡°So you really never once checked out my ass? I¡¯m feeling a bit insulted. You¡¯re into women, right?¡±

    A part of me was utterly irritated that when a confident woman sees a guy who¡¯s not into her, the first thing she thinks is that he¡¯s gay. Bah! ¡°Yes, Gina, I¡¯m into women! I am VERY into women!¡±

    I thought I might have heard Aase say something close to ¡°That¡¯s good to know,¡± but in my irritation I wasn¡¯t really registering it. Because I hated thinking this way, treating women like they were vessels for instinct and fantasy. I shouldn¡¯t still be thinking like that unless I¡­ Oh, shit.

    I pulled my hands away from my face which had contorted from a pain filled epiphany. For in that moment, I realized¡­ I had forgotten to masturbate while I''d had the privacy of a hotel room last night. ¡°Shit,¡± I hissed out through clenched teeth. The entire point of having a night to myself and I was too busy crushing a criminal network to remember to release the pressure so I would stop thinking like some horny highschool jock! I flicked my eyes to my left and saw Aase and Gina, their worried faces and their T and their A respectively. For my peace of mind, I had to get out of that bed wagon.

    ¡°Okay, Gina, go ahead and start organizing for the people to sleep on the wagons in shifts. We¡¯ve all had a long night and everyone deserves some rest. You and two other women can use the bed wagon for the first sleep shift.¡±

    I''d be damned if I let the guys sleep in my bed, though.

    ¡°Oh, thank you, Boss,¡± said Gina, using the term that Zent had used when he woke me up that morning. Meh, it was fine. I didn¡¯t have a better title to use. I registered Gina¡¯s gratitude and hopped out of the back of the wagon, asking if Aase wanted to come with me. I saw the medical wagon which Daphne was coaching, as usual.

    Well, Daphne and Aase seemed like they¡¯d been getting along well recently, and Daphne was one of the people who¡¯d had the chance to sleep the previous night.

    ¡°Wanna ride with Daphne for a while?¡±

    Aase gave an affirmative to my question and we climbed aboard the coach seat of the wagon, Aase having me go first leaving me sitting in the middle. Or, as some rough necks would say, I was sitting bitch. I pulled my shoulders in for the comfort of the ladies while giving the normal salutations. ...If I had wanted to get out of a situation where I was thinking about women, perhaps I shouldn¡¯t have sandwiched myself between two of them.

    Quick! Start talking about distracting things!

    ¡°So, Daphne,¡± I started out, a subject that had been bothering me jumping to my mind. ¡°What was it that Lord Bowel was talking about this morning? Something about a rose?¡±

    ¡°Oh? I¡¯m sorry, Xander, I wasn¡¯t at the square this morning if you¡¯ll recall.¡±

    Oh, yeah. Daphne and Mercy were staying at the inn, with the wagons.

    ¡°Ja, I remember that, too,¡± said Aase. ¡°He said he¡¯d adorn those criminals with a red rose. I figured he was being poetic, but everyone else seemed to think it really meant something.¡±

    Daphne laughed aloud, her smile causing her eyes to squint a tiny bit and her nose to crinkle in a cute way. She smelled good, too, like fresh peaches. Crap, she was already wearing the perfume I gave her!

    ¡°I suppose you could think of it as poetic. It¡¯s our justice system, created by the Goddess, and administered by The Faith. When someone is found guilty of a crime, a priest tattoos a rose above the heart of the criminal. It¡¯s a yellow rose for a small crime, and they are sentenced to public service. Volunteering for the church functions, or cleaning the city or the like.¡±

    ¡°Community service, huh? Do they wear orange vests for it?¡± I looked over to Aase to see if she got the joke, but looking at her from close up I only got a good look at the clean lines of her face and the pale beauty of her hair. I also remembered somewhere in the less rational part of my mind that she was still braless and sitting very close. Damn.

    ¡°No,¡± said Daphne, ¡°Just the yellow of the tattoo. If people are found guilty of major crimes, like assault, robbery, and the like then they are adorned with the red rose. They are then sold into slavery by a nationally licensed broker to serve their sentence under the supervision of whoever purchases them.¡±

    ¡°You have slavery here,¡± demanded Aase, very upset.

    ¡°Yes, of course we do,¡± said Daphne, a little taken aback. ¡°It¡¯s far more humane than the alternative.¡±

    ¡°More humane than, what? Reform and parole?¡±

    Daphne seemed more confused. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Aase, but parole is only for military prisoners. What kind of system did you have in your world?¡±

    I interjected to settle things down. ¡°Hold on. Daphne, what was your justice system before the Goddess herself gave you slavery?¡±

    ¡°All criminals were executed.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that a little harsh,¡± asked Aase, barbs still in her voice.

    ¡°There was no other way to deal with criminals at the time. Simple punishments were only a slap on the wrist, or a reason to antagonize the criminals.¡±

    ¡°So a prison system wouldn¡¯t have worked,¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not at all,¡± said Daphne. ¡°It would mean taking soldiers away from active highway patrols, town security, and monster subjugation,¡± Daphne¡¯s hand made big loops in the air as she listed off the demerits, ¡°And it would cost a fortune to house and feed the scum. Many a nation would have gone bankrupt doing such a thing. So, convicted criminals were executed.¡±

    ¡°Well that is hardly ideal,¡± said Aase testily.

    ¡°I agree,¡± said Daphne, trying to defend her world, ¡°So, the priests started petitioning the Goddess for a more humane means of dealing with criminals. It wasn¡¯t long until the Goddess granted The Faith with the ability to tattoo criminals with the roses, whose color and power fades once their crimes have been paid for. Yellow roses perform their penance during their personal time, red roses are sold, funding the nations that sentenced them and putting the burden for their food and shelter on those who purchased them in exchange for manual labor. And black roses are sentenced to the hardest labor or the¡­ less savory forms of slavery.¡±

    ¡°Black roses,¡± I asked before Aase could say something else about Meaorh¡¯s system of government.

    ¡°Yes, those are given to murderers, rapists, kidnappers, and traitors that are not executed,¡± said Daphne, visibly losing her happiness from reciting the list of crimes. ¡°Those poor people don¡¯t have their roses fade, or the power inside them, so they are never freed from their slavery.¡±

    ¡°Power inside the rose,¡± asked Aase.

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a safety measure to keep the rose marked from trying to free themselves. If they try to escape their owner, the rose begins to heat until it burns the heart from their chest. If the slave turns on their master, then the rose ignites without delay.¡± Seeing the faces on me and Aase, Daphne adds quickly, ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to worry. The magic in the tattoos also outlaws a master from doing inhumane acts to their slaves, heating the owner¡¯s blood instead if they violate the contract. So a slave owner can¡¯t needlessly beat, kill, or do any other terrible things to their slaves¡­ unless they have a black rose, of course.¡±

    ¡°What can be done to people with a black rose,¡± I asked, partially fearing the answer.

    ¡°Anything. Everything,¡± said Daphne.

    ¡°Sexual slavery,¡± I inquired.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°Yes. And underground arenas. Medical experiments. Or even torture for no reason whatsoever at the hands of their owner. Or someone willing to pay the owner for the right.¡±

    Aase said something in Norwegian that sounded damning.

    ¡°I know it sounds terrible, but these are people who have, by law, forfeited the right to live in society ever again. Forfeited their lives. And as a deterrent, it works.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say it would require a large scale scientific study to determine that,¡± I said before trying to change the subject away from torture. It was doing a good job getting my mind off the two hot women I was sandwiched between, but rather, too good a job. ¡°You said the magic fades? What happens when it¡¯s gone?¡±

    ¡°Yellow rose criminals get a handshake, a thanks for their service, and just go on with their lives. Red rose criminals often get severance pay, or stay on with their employer instead of leaving to look for new work.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s a system that only truly victimizes murderers and rapists,¡± I said. I hated to admit it, but it seemed like an effective system. Assuming there really was a Goddess in this world, she did a good job creating a simple and sustainable system of criminal management. One that had convicts without the need for prisons.

    ¡°Are you taking her side,¡± asked Aase, perturbed.

    ¡°Side?¡± I was suddenly wary, confused, and frightened. It was the same kind of feeling as if I¡¯d been walking along completely carefree in life, and then heard a metallic click under my foot.

    ¡°Yes! According to Daphne here my grandfather would have-¡± Aase cut herself off and turned away, nibbling on her lip.

    Damn. So that was it. Aase was imagining her grandfather at the receiving end of all those punishments for killing Ida¡¯s rapist father to keep her safe. I spent a few seconds considering our relative positions to each other, and which acts of comforting I could do without breaking my shoulder, and eventually reached out a hand to place on top of Aase¡¯s own that was sitting on her lap.

    ¡°Aase, nothing is going to happen to your grandad. And if the same thing happened here in this world, it¡¯d be the pervert that got the black rose. Do you think that Ida¡¯s father deserved to die horribly?¡±

    ¡°You know I do,¡± said Aase a bit sulkily.

    ¡°Then imagine that it¡¯s him wearing that rose instead of your grandad,¡± I said with a hint of finality, demarcating the poetic justice of such a fate.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Aase,¡± Daphne said across from me, leaning in for her face to be seen while she made her apology. It ended up putting her a lot closer to me than she was before. I got a large whiff of the perfume mixed with her natural scent as she did so. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to make you feel bad. I can understand being worried about your family.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry, Daphne,¡± said Aase, taking her hand out from under mine to grip Daphne¡¯s. It was an act that led her to lean closer to me. Her C Cup pressed against me, the softness palpable through her blouse and my shirt sleeve. I won¡¯t be able to calm down enough to sleep tonight, will I? Completely ignorant of my plight, the two women made up. Aaaand now I think I¡¯m hallucinating.

    While Aase and Daphne were getting back on good terms with each other I was effecting the thousand yard stare. We were passing through an outlying village at the time and I caught sight of what I assumed was a wife kissing her husband goodbye for the day at the front door. Thing is, the woman kissed two men goodbye for the day, at the same time, the two men standing next to each other.

    ¡°The hell,¡± I intoned to the air.

    ¡°Hmm, what is it,¡± asked Aase. I described what I saw and Daphne said, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just a woman kissing her husbands goodbye for the day.¡±

    ¡°Hus-bands,¡± asked Aase.

    ¡°Plural,¡± I finished up.

    ¡°Yes. You don¡¯t have marriages on Arth?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Earth,¡± I corrected. ¡°And we do have marriages. But we only have married couples. As in, two people per marriage.¡± Except in Utah. But that was NOT a part of my world I wanted to try and explain.

    ¡°Oh, we use to do it like that as well,¡± said Daphne as though recollecting an old anecdote that happened to her. ¡°Until Empress Garta of the Currain Empire found herself with three princely suitors from the territories, and she got along with all three so well she could not decide who she should wed. So she went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Capital to beg the Goddess to help her choose. She laid out her troubles and worries at the altar for a month until The Herald descended and told her The Goddess'' message. ¡®If thou dost not have any complaints about any of the three, then why dost thou not marry them all?¡¯ And so, with the Goddess¡¯ blessing she took all three princes as her bridegrooms, and the church recognized the union of multiple partners.¡±

    I was struck speechless for a moment, not from awe or understanding, but by just how retarded it sounded. It felt less like their deity gave a divine inspiration and just more like she just told her annoyingly moody friend something random to get her to shut up about her relationship problems. Throw in a drunk phone call at 2 a.m. and it would be an exact fit.

    Aase then mumbled, ¡°Reminds me of a friend of mine. Would always go on and on about her ¡®boy troubles.¡¯¡± Then aloud, Aase said, ¡°Sounds like it would have been chaotic in the bedroom.¡±

    Daphne brightly denied it, saying, ¡°Oh, no. By all accounts the four of them got along wonderfully. The Empress had a great many heirs by the time she stepped down from the throne.¡±

    I decided to clarify the situation, just to make sure. ¡°So. In this world, any man can have as many wives as he wants? And any woman can have as many husbands as she wants?¡±

    ¡°As long as there is love and all the parties consent, yes,¡± said Daphne brightly. ¡°Ah, but for those who are priding themselves on their bloodlines and inheritances, they typically stick to one spouse to prevent confusion. Otherwise, anyone who can support a large family is free to do so. In reality, you don¡¯t see multiple marriage partners as often as you could, since it¡¯s hard for several people to get along romantically.¡±

    ¡°I can only imagine,¡± I said to the air. I¡¯d had a hell of a time in high school, and that was with only one woman. Can you imagine trying to keep a solid relationship with two? With more? ...Shit, I¡¯d started imagining having ¡°relations¡± with two women at the same time, Aase and Daphne specifically. Damn. I really needed to find an opportunity to masturbate before my sex drive drove me insane. Well, let¡¯s try distracting myself again.

    ¡°So, Daphne, tell us about the ¡®Four Brothers¡¯ that those mountains are named after,¡± I asked as we travelled down the road leading south out of town.

    * * * * *

    The white figure humans knew by the ¡°name¡± of Blanc slowly strode down the road south of Rogert, unhurried and at an even pace. His coat was white. His shirt was white. His pants, boots, and belt were white. And it made sense that they were, for they were all made from the man¡¯s own body. Since he was a dragon in human form, it made sense for him to adorn himself in clothing made from his own scales, hair, and leather. And for him to wield a bastard sword made from one of his own fangs.

    And as a dragon, he had as much of a lifespan as he chose to live before him. Therefore, he was unhurried to go anywhere, and never felt pressed for time under any situation. He¡¯d once been impatient when he was a whelp, but the ages had worn those rough edges off of him. Now, he merely passed the time until he encountered the next item of interest on Meaorh.

    One of those interesting things was the man he¡¯d had the brief encounter with in Rogert. The one the dragon known as Blanc had tested while passing through the city. It had been a mild curiosity, really, but the man¡¯s magic seemed unusual to Blanc¡¯s senses. Different in some way to nearly any other he¡¯d felt. Yes, the magic of him, and the woman beside him, were mere curiosities.

    His reactions to Blanc however, were what had piqued the dragon¡¯s interest. The human had not been afraid.

    Blanc prized reactions like those. The average human, upon meeting him, would cower and seek to safely escape his presence as quickly as possible. Rarely, Blanc would encounter people who either did not know what he was, and therefore had no idea that they should be frightened, or knew what he was and still treated him as something other than a natural disaster incarnate. Almost unerringly, these kinds of people were either children, or fools.

    Blanc liked children. They often said interesting things. They were worth allowing to play with him..

    Fools however, Blanc played with them.

    That was why Blanc had played his little joke, ruining the man¡¯s drink and demonstrating how fragile his life was in Blanc¡¯s presence. Blanc had been expecting the man to perform some of those disgusting bodily functions humans tended to do when he toyed with them. Instead, though, the man had prepared himself to fight.

    Blanc¡¯s face split in unconcealed mirth as he recalled the dark haired man¡¯s facial features of surprise, confusion, and fear as he stood up, his body taking on a combat stance. Blanc knew the man understood he had no way of fighting against a dragon, but he would have done just that if Blanc had continued his little game. The man would have desperately fought Blanc instead of running away.

    Blanc could not remember the number of decades since he¡¯d encountered a person like that. It reminded him of the nature of his dearly departed friend, the one who¡¯d given him the ¡°name¡± of Blanc, the man the world had hailed as a Hero. Blanc liked Heroes. They were few and far between, and every one of them was interesting in their own unique way.

    None of them had been afraid of him as well. Until after they¡¯d fought him.

    The dark haired man reminded him of those Heroes. Fledgelings just freed of their confining shells of normalcy. Fresh to a world where they could grow to their greatest strengths and abilities. And once they had reached their plateau of might, Blanc enjoyed fighting them again.

    Perhaps the dark haired man would be someone Blanc could fight to their combined full potential some day in the future? Blanc would have to remember the man¡¯s smell for when that day came, so he could stalk him down for a confrontation.

    Speaking of smells, Blanc could make out the village of¡­ well, what¡¯s in a name. The next village was a few miles down the road from him and was a stopping point for a meal on his way to the border of Fulchas and Rennou, where a whelp of his kind had been misbehaving recently. The Mercenary Union had asked him to take care of the matter. Blanc had no reason to accept their request, which the Mercenary Union knew. But it was something to do, so he¡¯d accepted.

    There was a rustling of shrubbery and four men lept out of the shadows of the dense forest on either side of the road. They were burly, ignorant looking men who seemed to live on their strength alone, predating on other humans as there was no scent of wild game upon their bodies. There was the scent of stale alcohol all over them, though. Blanc had smelled them long before he came upon them, but even he had not thought they would be foolish enough to try and ambush him. For a moment, Blanc came to a halt, stunned by their idiocy.

    It seemed their leader mistook Blanc¡¯s rigidity for fear, as he proudly proclaimed, ¡°If you want to pass this point on our road, you¡¯ll need to pay the toll.¡±

    The three other men smiled wickedly, with full faith in their numbers to intimidate a lone traveler like Blanc, despite the fact that he was obviously armed.

    Blanc returned their smile.

    It would seem he¡¯d found something to play with for the day.

    * * * * *

    Some hours later, a produce merchant was returning to Catella, the farming village half a day¡¯s travel south of Rogert by cart. He¡¯d been able to sell all the farmers'' goods this time as well, with very little spoilage. But he was not looking forward to having to pay Buth¡¯s toll. He could afford it, but it cut into his profits and slowed the passage of travelers and other merchants through Catella, which was an abhorrent idea to the merchant. But since the highwaymen who had migrated to the area some weeks ago had not yet killed anyone, there was no real urgency with the Rogert military to dispatch the bandits who¡¯d settled on the small and not oft used road.

    The merchant was in the habit of looking about him constantly, always ready to snap the reigns and hurry his horses to a gallop should beasts or monsters jump out of the woods around him, and he noticed the subtle landmarks that denoted Buth¡¯s stretch of the road. The merchant slowed his horses a bit more so it didn¡¯t look like he was going to try and run from Buth¡¯s men. They¡¯d paid the merchant a visit at his home the last time he¡¯d done that, and collected their fee in front of his terrified wife. Thank the Goddess they¡¯d not done anything to her. Though the promise of a Black Rose had probably been more of a deterrent than their morality.

    The merchant hated dealing with Buth¡¯s highwaymen. But unless Buth made a mistake and earned the wrath of the military, the merchant was stuck with them. Much like he was with his wife.

    The merchant saw the sign of someone on the road ahead of him, pulled his horses to a halt, dismounted, and led the horses by the bridles instead of the reigns to approach as slowly and helplessly as possible. It made the process easier.

    At length, the merchant finished his approach towards the figure, finding one of Buth¡¯s men standing stock still in the middle of the road. The bandit had his heavy bladed axe head cupped in his left hand. The bandit didn¡¯t spout any of the group¡¯s usual mockeries at the merchant as he approached, and merely stood silently. While out of the norm, the merchant appreciated it. It made his submission to the men more palatable. Coming close, the merchant asked the man, ¡°Well, where¡¯s Buth? I¡¯d like to be home in time for supper.¡±

    The bandit did not answer.

    At length, the merchant asked again, ¡°Where¡¯s Buth?¡±

    After the bandit¡¯s continued silence, the merchant seemed to realize that the man was not looking him in the eyes and just kept gazing at some point in space. The merchant waved a hand in front of the direction the bandit was looking towards, and seeing no response, stepped closer. After some inspection, the merchant found a thin layer of shiny film over the top of the bandit that he¡¯d originally mistook as the sheen of sweat. The merchant found the bandit was not breathing, and risking the touch through the bandit¡¯s cloth vest, found the man was colder than ice.

    The merchant stepped back, startled, and started looking around himself again, like he had been doing before resigning himself to being victimized by the bandits. He soon found something red and stringy hung up on the trees to one side of the road. After looking carefully, the merchant realized that it was another bandit, the upper and lower halves of his body torn from each other, though still connected by the bandit¡¯s internal organs. The mass was limply hanging from the multiple tree boughs they were entangled in.

    The merchant took several retreating steps back, tasting bile in his throat. He felt and heard something crack and snap under his feet. Looking down, the merchant saw the remains of a human¡¯s hand, shattered under the weight of his body like it was glass. The merchant looked back up at the first dead bandit, and saw both of his hands were still intact. Slowly, the merchant looked back down and saw more shattered bits, randomly strewn about the ground in the direction of the other side of the road from the red horror hung upon the trees. Slowly, the merchant realized the fractured odds and ends were enough to make up the full body of yet another of the bandits.

    The merchant had had to skirt the field of human debris to come to that conclusion though, moving away from his cart and the first bandit in the process. In doing so, he eventually found Buth himself. Or at least his legs from the knees on down. The body parts fascinated the merchant, for there was no blood, giving the merchant a strange sensation that the body parts couldn¡¯t be real. Upon closer inspection, there was a kind of shriveled, parched, dry patch at the end of the lost limbs that had been cut through with razor sharp precision. If a chemist had seen those marks, he¡¯d have been able to instantly determine that it was the after burn effect of a freeze drying process.

    The merchant then saw some kind of drag marks on the ground, with torn up patches on either side like a man had been crawling there, leading away from the legs. Following the trail, the merchant found Buth, from just above the knees, to just under his rib cage, also sporting precise freeze drying marks. And more drag marks and signs of two hands clawing the earth. Then, the merchant found Buth¡¯s left arm. Freeze dry marks. The signs of dragging, and one set of hand marks clawed into the earth.

    The merchant eventually found Buth¡¯s other arm, precisely freeze dried at the severed spot, laying next to the second half of Buth¡¯s torso. The head was a few feet further along. As though bewitched, the merchant approached the severed head that had not a drop of spilled blood upon it, and picked it up to look into it¡¯s face. He needed to confirm who it had been. He didn¡¯t want to, but he needed to.

    It was Buth. His face was contorted in pain, fear, and disbelief. But his eyes were not looking upwards towards some phantom attacker. They were locked in place, downwards, as though looking for his missing body. Suddenly, the merchant was fully convinced that the manner in which the man died had left him a few moments of life as nothing more than a head, allowing the bandit his terrified few seconds to understand his own decapitation.

    The merchant dropped Buth¡¯s head, and in wrenching heaves, emptied himself of all that was inside of his body. It was several minutes before he was able to stop, and another ten before he summoned the nerve to search the bandits for their Sul. The coins they had were taken from him after all, and he¡¯d like them back.

 Chapter 26: Departure | Flight

    Well, we were able to turn east off the southern road out of Rogert and get far enough away the first day of travel. I was comfortable enough with our progress and the solitude of our camping site to order everyone to remove their uniforms for civilian clothing and then bury the military uniforms without much fear of immediate exposure. And with that, the 78th Platoon should be no more. As for what they would be in the future, I¡¯d have to put some thought into it.

    As for why I had the clothing buried instead of burnt, an intelligent writer I once read said that burning stuff brought attention to it. Hiding something in plain sight could take years for people to find it. So I had some extra deep ¡°latrine holes¡± dug for ditching the uniforms into after the armored bits were stripped out.

    While the soldiers¡­ While my men were busy with clothing disposal, I trained Aase¡¯s magic during the last hour of daylight.

    Yes. Aase¡¯s magic. I knew I should have been working on my own magic. Not being proficient with it in close quarters was what nearly got me killed the other day, after all. But when Aase asked for my help in her own training I just didn¡¯t have the heart to say no. That, and I was a bit of a procrastinator, so putting off my own training for a while was fine with me.

    Though, looking at the limb sized lances of jagged ice that Aase was still producing made it seem like our combined efforts were without any real success. With Aase panting with exertion and disappointment while facing the half dozen or so trees she¡¯d obliterated, I asked just to be sure, ¡°You¡¯re certain that you¡¯re releasing as little power as possible. Dead certain.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± came Aase¡¯s frustrated and annoyed response, loud and clear. She wiped her forehead that was exposed since she¡¯d pulled her hair into a ponytail for training. ¡°I¡¯m releasing the least power I can, but this big wad of magic always jumps out! It¡¯s exhausting trying to fight it, and I always lose! And that over there is what happens!¡±

    Yeah. A shattered tree stump half a human wide. Obviously training towards hold back on the magic output wasn¡¯t working for Aase. If my magic was a garden hose that could ramp up to a fire hose, Aase¡¯s was a water cannon. ...Okay, that simile didn¡¯t make much sense but since I didn¡¯t say it aloud I was fine with it. What I wasn¡¯t fine with was Aase not being able to have any fine control with her power. Too many problems could pop up by leaving things as they were. This required more research.

    ¡°Well, Aase, we¡¯re obviously going about your training the wrong way. Try breaking down the process you¡¯re using to me.¡±

    Aase did, at length and with some unnecessary details included. It basically amounted to: Deciding the magic. Drawing the magic from her reservoir. Focusing the magic towards the desired effect. Release.

    It was just like how I did my direct attack magics, like my solidified spheres and rods, or my air effect spells, like gale force winds and concussive blasts. There had to be a loophole in that set up. After all, I¡¯d already proven that the magic system in this world was more malleable than the residents here thought it was. Maybe a way to skip a step, add a step, or alter a step? Like how I adapted to Nigeman¡­

    Hmm.

    ¡°Aase, can I ask you to try something that will sound weird?¡±

    ¡°Like I told my ex-boyfriend, you can ask, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Aase¡¯s response was kind of a verbal sucker punch. Ex-boyfriend? Were they intimate? Sounded like they were intimate. How long ago? Damn, I was thinking about Aase¡¯s age again! How old was she?

    Aase¡¯s serious face split into a grin as she saw she¡¯d gotten me good, and said, her mood lifting as mine diminished, ¡°I was just kidding. What was it you had in mind.¡±

    Ugh. She pulled a fast one on me. It took a few false starts as I worked my mind back towards magic and away from Aase¡¯s potential intimacy habits. But I was eventually able to say, ¡°I¡¯d like you to try releasing your magic power itself into the area around you without trying to turn it into a spell effect, and without releasing it from your control. Make a cloud of your magic, and then, once you have it, focus it on a target.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± said Aase as her face took on a determined look, and finished her words more slowly, as she began to concentrate. ¡°I¡¯ll try¡­¡±

    I felt something in the air as Aase spoke, the sudden weight of magic power that felt as heavy as highly humid air. A few moments in I realized I probably skipped a step in trying to simplify Aase¡¯s magic, the act of forming a spell out of parts of the released magical power.

    ¡°Say, Aase, I forgot to-¡±

    The blasted stump crik-crackled, the moist fibers of it¡¯s internals splitting and splintering with the power of flash frozen sap expanding in an instant.

    ¡°I did it,¡± exclaimed Aase as she gave a small hop and then dashed towards the stump to inspect her handiwork. I let the rest of my sentence go unsaid and lamely closed my mouth to follow Aase.

    Aase was gleefully bending down to get a closer look at the stump, and checking the splintered wood. I however checked the area of effect.

    ¡°Look at this, Aase. See how these blades of grass here are frozen as well, the ones up near the stump, but none of the ones any further away are damaged?¡± I plucked a few and rolled them between my fingers, finishing my thought. ¡°They aren¡¯t even cold.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    Since Aase was wearing a skirt today instead of pants she bent over to check the ground and exclaimed slightly in wonder at the effect, but not with the kind of understanding that a person who appreciated the laws of physics would have felt. She then asked, ¡°What does that mean?¡±

    I very nearly went into a speech about thermal dynamics, I really really wanted to, but I¡¯d learned that Aase wasn¡¯t much for mathematics and merely cut to the chase, with a knowing smirk.

    ¡°It means you¡¯ve found a way to use your magic with high precision, Aase. Congratulations.¡±

    Aase hopped and scampered a bit with joy. A part of me rejoiced that Aase still hadn''t had a chance to put on a bra, but my morals quickly mauled that part with an axe in the time it took Aase to mostly calm down. When Aase approached me again, she said with bright eyes (and I meant that literally, her eyes were shining with an inner light like mine did), ¡°What do I do now?¡±

    ¡°You name your new move, of course!¡±

    Aase was stunned for a moment before asking, ¡°What?¡±

    I sighed when I realized that Aase had no idea what I was talking about. She¡¯d obviously been reading the wrong literature and had never touched comic books or D&D Sourcebooks. Patiently, I began my explanation.

    ¡°Okay, Aase. There are two ways I can describe a fireplace. I can talk about the brickwork. I can talk about a firescreen, the fireplace poker, the metal grill that holds the burning log in place and the flue and the chimney. I can spend five minutes describing every detail of what a fireplace is, and what it¡¯s made of. Or I can just say the word ¡®fireplace¡¯ and the image of one pops into your mind. A name can be a shortcut to producing a result, Aase. Especially with super powers.¡±

    ¡°You mean magic, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, magic. Magic, of course. Magic.¡±

    Aase crossed one of her arms under her chest, giving her bust something to perch on, and put one knuckle under her lips as she went into thought. Before long, she said, ¡°But what on Earth should I call it? I can¡¯t think of anything.¡±

    ¡°Frozen Clutch,¡± I immediately said aloud. Perhaps I should have waited a second and pretended to give it thought. People tended to appreciate imagination more when it looked like it took effort. But Aase slowly repeated the proposed title in the Meaorh language, and then in what I assumed was Norwegian as the words lost all the hard vowel sounds and the ¡®t¡¯ in ¡®clutch¡¯ became silent.

    ¡°Frozen Clutch. Frossen Clutch.¡±

    Oh, Tish, that¡¯s Norwegian! Kidding! But her intonation was far more adorable than the same words could have been in English.

    Aase looked up at me, smiling as she said, ¡°I like it,¡± then turned and said, ¡°Frossen Clutch,¡± again as a second stump was flash frozen in an instant. Aase did a kind of wiggly happy dance at replicating her magic.

    I stepped up next to Aase and said, ¡°Good job. The next step is to train your accuracy and spacial awareness with the magic. You don¡¯t want to accidentally hit an ally along with an enemy when you use it in the future.¡±

    Aase nodded and asked, ¡°How should I do that?¡±

    I looked around a little and said, ¡°Try and freeze individual leaves on the trees, and entire branches you¡¯ve broken off laying on the ground. Alternate between big and small targets until you are use to tailoring your attacks to individual sizes. Remember Aase, accuracy is everything, because if you can¡¯t hit someone, it doesn¡¯t matter how strong your attacks are.¡±

    ¡°Okay, got it,¡± Aase replied with a determined bob of her head, her pulled back hair bobbing in the pony tail.

    ¡°While you¡¯re doing that, I¡¯m going to be trying some things out as well,¡± I said gaining distance to have my own stretch of forest along the roadside to practice on. There was only about a half hour of sunlight remaining and I would really like to try and get some training in on my own magic. Aase wouldn¡¯t need me for the rest of the day anyway.

    So now that I had my own breadth of woodlands to ruin with my training¡­ I couldn¡¯t think of what to do. The problem as far as I could see it was that I had a lot of long distance firepower, like gale force winds, concussive blasts, solidified geometric shapes, air bullets and the like. But the only really close range thing I had going was the concussive impact magic I used to blow through Nigeman¡¯s wall and only successfully used against the man himself once during our fight.

    What I really needed though, was quick use magic that was effective at close range that I could use while having my hands full. And, unfortunately, it seemed like the air bullets were out of the running.

    For testing sake, I tried to form one again, just like I¡¯d tried doing on my own when the caravan had stopped for lunch earlier today. I tried compressing the air, forming the shape, putting density into the object, giving the bullet it¡¯s hollow point center, firing the slug while putting a spin on it for accuracy and penetration. Without using my finger like it was a pistol. The process took several minutes to achieve, and the result was completely lackluster.

    It was just like the example I had given Aase about a fireplace. The idea of shooting a bullet of any kind was so intricately woven in my imagination with the act of firing a gun that they were practically inseparable. Meaning if I wanted to use an air bullet, I had to have a hand free to pull the trigger. And something like that was impossible to incorporate into this world¡¯s combat methodology, as Nigeman had demonstrated. The man had only needed a hint of the coming attack to bisect my fired magic. If he¡¯d have been charging me when that had happened I have died, hands down. I couldn¡¯t afford to use magics that required a specific physical gesture in combat again.

    Which meant the Force Choke was off the table as well, since I did the grasping fingers when I used it. But Force Choke was already unusable in combat as I had to specifically maneuver my magic and target specific parts of the human anatomy when used. When used in combat it was like trying to throw a dart into the bullseye of a dartboard that was bobbing and weaving to try and avoid you. And maintaining the magic was like flexing a muscle, as it took attention and focus to do. Just like with solidified weaponry in my first testing inside the secret base. The reason being, the blocked airway was a constantly moving biologic shape, and the solidified air had to constantly be adjusted to the victim¡¯s struggling esophagus. Easy if one concentrates, impossible if one was distracted by, say, someone charging at you with a sword.

    In summation, the Force Choke was completely impractical to live combat.

    And none of my magical abilities really had any killing power in the first place, except maybe the air bullet, and I¡¯d already decided it was pointless. Besides, it seemed unlikely the people of Meaorh even knew what a bullet was, so if I used an air bullet for intimidation or warning purposes, people would probably not be impressed by a tiny fast moving blob of air.

    What I needed was something that I could use without any gestures, that would be recognizable and intimidating to people who recognized swords as the normal weapons of war, and could kill a man in one hit.

    I just stood staring at the woods for a while as the enormity of my own self appointed task weighed on me. I blew past the thought blockage by breaking my problem down to the most basic element I needed to take care of first, just like I used to do for my homework. Find the starting point, and go on from there. What I needed most of all was a form for the magic, one that suggested that it could kill.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The obvious weapon in my mind was a spear. It was, after all, the weapon I had trained with as a kid and practiced with in college with my sparring buddy Ray. The guy had gotten addicted to Rurouni Kenshin in middle school and joined a martial arts dojo just to learn to fight with a katana. He¡¯d been a year ahead of me in his mechanical engineering program and we¡¯d met when he saw me practicing with a quarterstaff in the field near the dorms one day. We sparred for his remaining three years at the college after that.

    So to me, a weapon for killing had to be a spear. But they were too long for use in close quarters. And it seemed like the locals here didn¡¯t consider spears to be weapons worth having, which was total bullshit as I¡¯d be happy to tell anyone who was interested in hearing. So, something shorter. A spear head? Well, the bladed head of a spear was basically a dagger. A weapon of murderers and assassins¡­

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s try a dagger,¡± I said into the air to solidify my will.

    I had the shape, next came the action. The dagger had to be hands free, meaning self propelled. That meant it had to float free and be able to be fired at a target.

    ¡°A flying dagger...¡±

    Next came the conjuration. I crossed my arms and began to expel my magic in the same way I¡¯d suggested Aase did. I released my magic into the air around me, my awareness expanding with the release, and then started slowly compounding the magic into a shape. I immediately discarded the idea of a real dagger shape, the hilt would be pointless and allow swift hands to grab onto and throw my own magic back at me. Which left a blade, suited for flight but simple in design. The result was an elongated eight sided purple polygon, the lengthy part being the stabbing tip of the object.

    ¡°It¡­ kinda looks like a kunai,¡± I remarked to myself. Because really, it did. It looked like the Japanese throwing knife made famous by ninja portrayals in manga and anime. Ray had been big into Japanese culture and it had rubbed off on me as well, thanks to some top picks of his.

    I suddenly realized I was never gonna read Gintama again and a part of my inner being died.

    To quote the Simpsons, Urge to kill¡­ rising.

    Well, let¡¯s see how the magic dagger flies¡­

    Making sure I didn¡¯t make a single bodily gesture, I fired the magic dagger at a tree. It struck with a loud thunk, burying into the wood. After a few seconds the magic made object dissipated and I checked the hole I¡¯d made in the trunk. It was disappointingly shallow. The head of the kunai was fat and shifted the weight of the weapons into the blade. That probably made it good for throwing, but not so good for penetration since the fat sides would work against the momentum behind the throw. It was also a gardening tool in the first place that was re-purposed for clandestine combat. No, the shape wouldn¡¯t work. But I liked the simplicity of the eight sides¡­

    I made another polygon, but this time I started reducing the width by compacting the material. It ended up being denser and harder according to the feedback I was getting through my sensations of the magic with the smaller surface area. The slimmer design should make for more penetration, but for a check I sent it at another tree. Checking the hole after the weapon had dissipated, I¡¯d found that the same amount of magic and force had produced a deeper hole with the updated design.

    But I still wasn¡¯t satisfied. My magic at this point was nothing more than a short floating blade. It was made of magic, so it should be capable of doing more than just cutting or stabbing. At this rate I¡¯d be better served by working hard to remove my reliance on a finger gesture to make an air bullet, the bullet at least tore up the inner body.

    ...It wasn¡¯t the body of the bullet, though, that was what tore up the human body. Sure, you get shot in the heart, you die from having a hole in the heart. But the real damage from a bullet was the ripping of internal organs. That¡¯s why hollow points were so damn dangerous to get shot by. The shape of the bullet on impact flattened the bullet, creating a high surface area for turning all the momentum of the fired bullet into a transferred kinetic shock wave that was released into the body of the victim. The kinetic shock wave was what did the most damage. It was why a ¡°through and through¡± gunshot wound was a better prospect for survival. Because the bullet didn''t mushroom and it carried its kinetic force with it as it exited the body. Much less internal damage. Not that it wasn¡¯t still a death wound, but the point still stands.

    It¡¯s the same as Tai Chi¡¯s methods of doing damage. The palm was meant not to break bones, exactly, but to create a concussive strike to the body to do damage to the organs instead of to the muscles or the bones. If I recall the distinction, it was ¡°Soft Martial Arts.¡± Damaging the soft tissues instead of the hard with a strike that did concussive force instead of kinetic force.

    And I¡¯d already figured out how to use magic to make a concussive force, now hadn¡¯t I?

    I formed another floating blade, thin and deadly, and fired it into a tree. Before the dagger dissipated however, I had the buried tip burst inside the trunk. The wood splintered and exploded outward from the concussive blow. Which made absolute sense.

    A firecracker that exploded in the palm of your hand would burn the flesh. A firecracker that exploded in your enclosed fist would blow off the fingers. When pressure was exerted without anywhere to go, everything in the way would be shattered by the exerted force.

    A smile floated up from the depths of my soul. I could definitely use this move to make some heads explode.

    ¡°Now to name it¡­¡±

    I crawled inside my head a bit until I came up with something I¡¯d be satisfied with. Simple and descriptive. As simple as ¡°fireplace.¡±

    ¡°Piercing Impact,¡± I exclaimed aloud as I forged and fired another air dagger, exploding a golf ball sized chunk of wood from a tree. I¡¯d have to work on the speed and power, and experiment with the concussive release, but I was happy with the new move. So, since the light was failing me and I¡¯d made a new killing move I could practice while traveling, there was a new idea the floating dagger had planted in my mind.

    I made a thick rectangular block about ankle height, sturdy and filled with my power. Then I stepped on top of it. The block didn¡¯t fall to the ground. I smiled and then started the block lifting higher from the ground, about a foot up, and then propelled the block forward. I slipped off the flat and untextured surface, landing flat on my back and knocking the wind out of myself.

    ¡°Fuuuuuuu~¡± I cussed breathlessly. I was still close to the camp, so I could only pray no one had seen that. Taking a minute to catch my breath, I decided to learn from my failure, and try something different. Hey, it took mankind five hundred years of effort to figure out sustainable flight, I could give it a second shot.

    I conjured the rectangular foothold again, stepped on top of it, and then concentrated. By reforming the density I was able to allow my feet to sink into the material of the rectangle and then re-solidify it. The rectangle was solidly formed around the soles of my boots nearly deep enough to cover the toes. Now that there was no danger of falling off, I moved the rectangle up, and then forward. After the sudden movement caused me to fall backwards, my embedded feet left me being dragged along the ground for about five feet.

    Okay. Okay. I¡¯ve learned from my mistakes. I could do better. I mean, there¡¯s a reason why skis had those safety release locks. And it didn¡¯t feel like my ankles were broken, so I could give it another try. I knew what I did wrong anyway. I was standing. After all, who flies in a standing position, am I right?

    This time I made a rectangle not to stand on, but one to sit on. I didn¡¯t have the imagination to make a fully formed chair just yet, but baby steps. I took a seat on the rectangle and held onto the edge with my hands while leaning forward to fight against the upcoming shift in balance. With great satisfaction, I found myself comfortably levitating above the ground at about a jogging pace. With a laugh I slowly increased the height of my floating box from the ground and piloted myself back to the camp to show everyone my triumph. Laughing loudly, I called everyone¡¯s attention to myself as I made a circuit around the campground, impressing and confusing everyone on site, including the horses who whinnied and shied at seeing a grown man fly.

    Then my concentration lapsed and I fell over ten feet to land awkwardly on my already sensitive ankles and ass. Something definitely broke and I started growl-shouting in pain. It seemed like an eternity of agony as my people gathered around me in a circle to see what had happened and one of them, Kyl Benko said aloud to everyone, ¡°Don¡¯t touch him! Get Daphne! Where¡¯s Daphne?!¡±

    Through the legs of the people watching the pain show I was putting on, holding my leg like a soccer player in the World Cup, I saw Callic between their legs laughing his ass off from a distance.

    Urge to kill¡­ rising¡­

    Soon after that Daphne broke through the encirclement of bodies and seeing where I was cradling, took hold of my shin and then some magic shit started happening. I didn¡¯t know what Daphne did, but it did the trick. The pain faded and with it my anger.

    Urge to kill¡­ gone¡­

    ¡°Thanks, Daphne,¡± I said as I rose to a sitting position. Daphne then gave me a swift and painful swat to the chest. After an exclamation of ¡°Ow,¡± Daphne laid into me verbally.

    ¡°Are you trying to get yourself killed? You have to take better care of yourself! It¡¯s not just your life you''re playing with, Xander, we¡¯ll all die if you die! Stop trying to kill yourself!¡±

    Geez, what?! ¡°I¡¯m not trying to kill myself, Daphne! I swear!¡±

    ¡°Then what is this I heard about you and your fight with Nigeman?!¡±

    ¡°What about my fight with Nigeman!?¡± Gads! The tiny woman¡¯s ferocity was starting to get overwhelming!

    ¡°Private Hateen told me about it, Xander! As soon as Nigeman beat Callic you charged him yourself! You could have died! It was stupid and you¡¯re stupid for trying to fly around like a lark! Nigeman could have easily killed you! Why didn¡¯t you have the soldiers fight Nigeman, that¡¯s what we¡¯re all here for, after all! To keep you alive so the rest of us don¡¯t die! Idiot!¡±

    God damn! Daphne was just saying whatever popped into her head at this point! And the surrounding members of my caravan were agreeing with her. But I wasn¡¯t going down without a fight.

    ¡°Daphne, fighting Nigeman myself was the best move for me to take.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious,¡± demanded Daphne. ¡°How can you possibly justify that?¡±

    ¡°I think everyone in camp is aware of the fact that Callic over there is the strongest one in your unit, right?¡± I was addressing the crowd to try and gain a home field advantage in this tiff. The people grudgingly agreed. ¡°So when Callic went down, who the hell else was I suppose to send out to fight Nigeman? Any other one of these guys would have been cut down in seconds.¡±

    ¡°You could have sent all of us at him,¡± said Tobias from my left. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re trained for, killing through weight of numbers.¡±

    I looked back at Tobias and said in the same argumentative tone I¡¯d been using with Daphne, ¡°That is fucked up on so many levels. But even then, Nigeman would have killed four or five of you guys at the least. And I am not about to have that. No one in my caravan dies on my watch if I can help it, and I will never ask any of you guys to do something I¡¯m unwilling to do myself. Except latrine duty!¡±

    I felt that full honesty on that point was important.

    By this time I was standing up again and I was pacing around to face the circle that had gathered around me, pointing at the former soldiers with my finger to drive my point home.

    ¡°You guys are a strategic resource,¡± I said, emphasizing my viewpoint so that there was no mistake in their minds. ¡°I repeat, a strategic resource. Not a disposable one. Losing even a single member of my caravan when it can be avoided is unacceptable. So I fought Nigeman myself, because I knew I had a shot of winning one on one. You guys still wanna do things the army way, human wave tactics? Well tough titties, you¡¯re in my crew now. And nobody dies without my permission!¡±

    ¡°So no, Daphne,¡± I hissed as I turned to face the woman who was still on the ground. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to get myself or anyone else killed. So stop trying to henpeck me. Okay?¡±

    Daphne took a moment before she numbly nodded her head and I gave her a hand to stand up. After getting Daphne back on her feet I stated that I was hungry and that there had better be some food handy. Thankfully, there was and I was able to fill my belly. I calmed down some after my angry eating session and was able to look back on the situation from the others¡¯ viewpoints. Yeah. It looked like I was a hot doggin¡¯ grandstanding idiot for fighting Nigeman when I could have sat back and left it to others. But that¡¯s not how you really lead. That¡¯s not how you held onto power.

    You had to be someone that other would fight to the death for. Not be someone people would just plain die for. And I hopefully got that across to everyone tonight. But honestly¡­ the fact remained that it was really fucking stupid for me to fight Nigeman like that. I had the three years of sparring with Ray, but that had been with padded weapons while wearing protection. With a staff I¡¯d been pretending was a spear. My real life combat experience was severely limited. I was going to have to work on that like I was going to have to work on my magic.

    All in all, I was lucky. I was able to get my hands on Nigeman¡¯s small fortune and get out of Rogert before we all got burned.

    * * * * *

    The wagon filled with Nigeman¡¯s underlings creaked and groaned as it traveled the road leading northeast towards the town of Klai where a slave broker that could sell them was based. Each man had been adorned with a Black Rose. Each man was also chained to bolts in the wooden planks of the wagon. Each man was also hooded with a burlap sack to prevent them from seeing about them. This helped keep the men afraid and docile at the same time as they had no way of knowing what was about them or who was watching them. Even so, sometimes the men would try and pull at the chains upon them, hoping against hope that they could be free before their awful fates could fall upon them.

    There would inevitably be a sharp crack as a rod struck the men. The soldiers of the Rogert garrison were not slacking on their escort of these men, the largest shipment of rose adorned prisoners in memory from the city. Most of the men were placidly accepting their fate, unreasonable hope that they¡¯d be bought by lonely widows for sexual favors. But none had any illusion that their lives as they knew them were not over.

    As the prisoners felt the cooling of the day and the diminishing of the afternoon sun upon their exposed arms, the wagon came to a rest. There was the noise of a camp being set up, the sound of cooking fires ignited, and eventually the smell of soups or stews filling the air. Even through the fug smelling burlap sacks, traces of the cooking food could be caught, and the stomachs of the prisoners growled in complaint. One man piped up, ¡°Hey, when are ya gonna feed us?¡±

    He was beaten with a rod for his questioning. But it was a good question. The prisoners had gotten breakfast that day, but no lunch. Even if they had done nothing but sit on hard benches until their bodies were sore from inactivity, hunger had caught up with them hours ago. Even with the beating of the man who¡¯d spoken up, the prisoners were confident they¡¯d get their meals eventually. After all, a starved and half dead slave was not worth much money at retail.

    As though without warning, the prisoners heard the sloshing of liquid and felt the splash of something too slimy to be water upon them. Each man cried out, but they were unheeded. Suddenly there was the crackling of flames a lot closer than the sound of the campfires and heat could be felt on their flesh again. Then there was the sound of screaming. One man after another began to scream in pain and panic infected all the men on the wagon. They all began to tear at the chains that held them in place, vainly and desperately.

    Before long, every man on the wagon was screaming in pain as the fire caught to the oil that had been splashed all over them. And all too quickly, the screaming ended as the flames and the super heated air the men sucked into their lungs did their terrible damage.

    Watching all of this play out was Garrison Captain Horatio Theen, as he sipped lightly at a bowl of soup. As the last screaming voice died out, Horatio smiled secretly to himself. All the evidence of his wrongdoing had just gone up in flames, as he¡¯d longed for. And the deaths of the criminals would simply be explained away as the casualties of a Beast attack that went horribly wrong, culminating in a travel advisory from Lord Bahwell. Everything cleaned up, nice and neat.

    As Horatio watched the bodies of the criminals incinerate, he knew he¡¯d be able to sleep well that night, even though he was going to be sleeping in a bunk on the hard ground.

 Extra Chapter 6: History According To Chaz

    This Extra Chapter takes place after Chapter 26. Or does it¡­?

    <hr>

    In the infinite darkness, there was only one figure. It wore a burgundy red suit of immaculate trim upon it¡¯s long and lithe form, with a matching tie and a pure black dress shirt. The figure¡¯s face was long and expressive. The features seemed most at home in an expression one could call sardonic, or just plain self-absorbed. The figure¡¯s hair was black as pitch at it¡¯s roots, and slowly grew redder until it looked like burning coals at the tip of his haircut that was molded to flow back and down the shape of the man¡¯s head, like it was highly gelled and combed back.

    The figure was leaning back in an E-Z-Boy barcalounger that had obviously seen better days, and spread a grin that could be welcoming if the eyes didn¡¯t seem so predatory. Opening his mouth the figure said, ¡°Hello, students. It¡¯s your friendly Entity of Pure Chaos, Chaz here with you today. And I just wanted to take this opportunity to share with you the real history of Meaorh.¡±

    With a flourish of his hands out to his sides and then onto the arms of his chair, Chaz said, ¡°Now,¡± before going into his thick exposition. ¡°The bible of The Faith describes the Genesis of the universe much the same way as the one from Earth¡¯s Christianity. This is because all universes are basically created by their respective Deities in the same way. By taking a fat load of energy from the void of pure Chaos, and imposing Order on it. Deities are uniquely capable beings that can take that raw chaotic energy, and turn it into matter. And in doing so, the Deities create a basic world with which to fill with lifeforms to rule over as gently or despotically as they so choose.¡±

    ¡°Chaotic energy on the other hand, is naturally very good at destroying Order, or rather, consuming the world that Deities create. In order for Deities to protect their created worlds, they then create universes around those worlds. Those universes are not for having a pretty night sky, or for extra terrestrials to breed on, but to serve and a barrier to ward off Chaotic energy and sealing the created world off so it can¡¯t be overrun by beings born from that big fat sea of Chaos that I call home.¡±

    Chaz held one hand up to his ear as though straining to listen to a sound while saying in playful sarcasm, ¡°What¡¯s that Lassie? If the sea of Chaotic Energy has no natural order in it, where the fuck did I come from? Well, you stupid dog, I really was born from pure Chaos, because if a thousand chimps at typewriters can reproduce Hamlet, then pure Chaos can sometimes produce entities that transcend Chaos. A creature like myself, that is made from the Chaotic energies that form the underlying fabric of all realities, with a self-aware consciousness. Was I always this dapper and well refined? Nope! But that changed after I consumed my first reality and the Deity that ruled it.¡±

    Chaz rolled his eyes, saying, ¡°And before you ask, yes, Deities taste like chicken. Chicken with a bit of spice like curry, or a splash of nutmeg. Really quite refreshing. Sure, I ended up snuffing out a few billion lives in the process, but that world was kind of a shit hole anyway. I did those people a favor.¡±

    ¡°It took a while for me to get strong enough to consume a reality, mind you, and I did it by consuming other partially self aware entities in the Void. Most of all, though, the Deity of that dimension fucked up royally. Seriously, that Deity had no managerial skills. The multiverse is better off without him, I did everyone a favor ripping the guy apart and savagely consuming his essence and power. But nope, all the other Deities treat me like I¡¯m the asshole, here. Wait, where was I?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes! Genesis! Seven days, blah blah, sea and sky, blah blah, plants and birds, and so on. The reason why it didn¡¯t take long for world creation is because the Deities have a basic template for worlds they make, including the size and rotation of the worlds in order to keep the laws of physics from having to be reinvented with every universe that¡¯s created. And that goes for animals and plants as well. Sure, some Deities get a wild hair up their holy butts and create things like wheat plants that turn purple when ripe and make people spontaneously combust when ingested, but for the most part it¡¯s just benign stuff. Like the Deity of Earth giving bees tinier wings than they should have had and still be able to fly.¡±

    ¡°So, now that the world of Meaorh¡¯s been created and you now know why it has 24 hour days, 365 days a year, and an environment and animals that mirror Earth¡¯s, let¡¯s get down to humans. The basic human form is similar across all dimensions, because, why fix what ain¡¯t broken? Deities just have an inborn desire to nurture, and observe growth. And they can only do so much with angels. So, they make humans and watch them go about their lives. Unlike Earth¡¯s first humans, though, the first human of Meaohr was a hermaphrodite with two souls in the same body. After a suitable amount of time living that the first human grew bored and lonely, the Goddess split that hermaphrodite into a man and a woman. And of course, they immediately set to fornicating!¡±

    ¡°Seriously, it only took a few minutes before they started doing the nasty.¡± Chaz rolled his eyes and sighed in light exasperation.

    ¡°So, with all the boning, pregnancy soon happened, and low and behold the humans discovered that the Goddess had blessed them with Fertility. Extreme Fertility. She wanted to get the population up right quick and the first two humans had litters of kiddies right away. Well, with all those little tykes running around they needed babysitters. So, the Goddess created dragons to keep the first human safe as they toiled over keeping so many rugrats from falling into ditches or being eaten by the quickly growing population of critters in the world as well. Why did the Goddess need fucking dragons for that? Because she also created the world to have magic in it.¡±

    ¡°Now, complete detour here, Deities can do some customization to their worlds on creation. One of the ways to do it is to have more ambient energy laying around than other worlds in order to allow mortals and nature to tap into it. That energy comes from raw Chaotic energies, just like everything else. In being processed to actually be ambient energy, it turns into magic power, which allows mortals to store, tap into, and just plain ol¡¯ use magic powers. Various settings can be made to apply to it¡¯s use, but the basic thing I want to cover is this; the more ambient magical power a universe is constructed to hold, the less solid it¡¯s barrier against invading chaotic monstrosities - like me - becomes.¡±

    ¡°In fact, that was how I consumed that reality. There was too much magic in the world, everyone started magically nuking each other, and some humans tried to call an extra-dimensional behemoth to destroy their enemies. A true lesson in ¡®Be careful what you wish for¡¯ if ever there was one. Now, the Goddess of Meaorh hit the happy mean. Not too much magic, not too little. Unfortunately, she made her magic system itself pliable enough that recently, a human with stolen knowledge was able to pierce the barrier, push through the void of Chaos and start abducting people. But that is getting off topic yet again.¡±

    ¡°So, the Goddess, being a doting and overly protective new mother to humanity, made dragons. She also scrambled the DNA of the offspring of the first humans enough that no one would get inbred, and after enough people were born and mature enough, she sent them forth to populate the world. And so the initial tribes were born. And the first two humans were really fucking old at this point and harried by having had and raised so many children. They were in no condition to go anywhere and just laid down to die. Well, the Goddess felt really guilty about what she¡¯d put them through and blessed the old couple with renewed youth, making them young again, and removed their Fertility in exchange for granting them Longevity. The process also marked the first two humans with pointy ears, thus creating the Elven race. These two former humans settled at the base of a mountain range and slowly started expanding their family again, because the man was still too stupid to pull out!¡±

    ¡°Anyway, man spread in tribes around the world with dragon guardians to watch over them. The tribes founded cities, then small nations, and then people broke off to settle other lands. Things were going so well the eternal Dragons asked the Goddess why mankind still even needed them as babysitters. So, the Goddess released dragons from their duties and allowed them to do whatever The FUCK! They wanted to do; on the condition that they never actively waged war on humankind. Dragons could murder or otherwise brutalize people, of course, but actual war with humans was just a big ol¡¯ plain no, no. Just to make sure Dragons didn¡¯t decide to conquer Meaohr.¡±

    ¡°At some point in the world¡¯s development, one nation by the name of Caruen arose that covered the entire continent of Caruen because of how well they were controlling magic. But not the magic that the Goddess created for the Meaorh universe. You see, the people in power there¡­ got a little greedy. They reached out for another source of power, and they found it. Or rather they made contact,¡± Chaz¡¯s words hesitate as each one is punctuated with meaning and a predatory smile spread across his lips as he spoke. ¡°With a certain entity.¡±

    ¡°This entity began providing this continent with easy, limitless power from the Chaotic void, dying the occupants of the realm in it¡¯s tainted presence. Their bodies changed and adapted to harness this power, putting them under the thrall of the entity. By this time The Faith was well into existence as an organized body to worship the Goddess, and started spreading the news about just how bad an idea communing with the entity was and tried to get people to take notice. Well, Caruen wasn¡¯t about to have that, so they started attacking all the sane nations on Meaohr in a genocidal wave of madness to prevent the foothold that the chaotic entity had established from being swept away.¡±

    ¡°Entire populations were slain. The Faith took on a more militant persona, and rallied mankind. New species of intelligent life were created to fight, and even the Elves adapted their magic for war. The landscapes around the world were altered by the fighting, and it seemed the armies of Caruen would sweep away the Goddess loving peoples of the world until the Goddess herself intervened. And the entire continent of Caruen was annihilated.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I just want to say this. The Goddess made the right decision. In fact, I would have done the deed a lot sooner if I¡¯d have been in her heavenly pumps, but there were reasons as to why the Goddess hesitated. There were a lot of people mostly untainted in Caruen, as the entity responsible for all the madness had been actively corrupting the leaders and the most powerful people in the realm and not Joe-what¡¯s-his-name down the street. There were even a lot of people in Caruen who still secretly worshipped the Goddess, despite being a part of the massive war machine the nation had become. But that didn¡¯t matter in the face of how only the absolute destruction of the nation was the only way to cripple the supply lines and reinforcements of the Caruen armies marching across the face of Meaorh.¡±

    ¡°Well, with their home land destroyed, I¡¯m sure you can appreciate how the Caruen armies morale was decimated, and the war quickly turned against them. The survivors of the Caruen race fled and migrated from the lands they had claimed as the human armies chased them to the blasted wastelands that had been created from the fighting. Eventually the human supply lines became overextended and they could chase the retreating Caruens no further. The leaders of the Caruen peoples had their surviving populace settle those blasted lands. The name of Caruen was quickly lost, and the people who one came from there became known as Demons. And the Demon Realms were thus made.¡±

    ¡°Earlier in this age of strife, the Caruen military had sent a large number of very dedicated and intelligent people of theirs into the lands of the normal humans. These infiltrators mostly survived the war, and went underground when it had ended. They were party to some of the communication, and thus, communing techniques of the Caruen race in order to keep in touch with their masters back in their homeland. After their homeland was destroyed, they re-adapted these techniques to try and commune with their god of Chaos. With limited success. Nothing like their dark priests and archmagus had been able to perform, but it was still enough for them to draw power enough to empower and deform themselves in ways even the native Caruen leaders would never have even contemplated. And these infiltrators became the base for The Disorder heretical cult that survives in Meaorh to this very day.¡±

    ¡°The demon race also survived in the blasted lands, thanks mainly to their leaders, who were extremely powerful and truly tainted by the darkness of the entity their civilization had made contact with. These leaders were the first Demon Kings. Now, just to clarify, the demon race has nobilities, but they are only single generation titles. They are granted through achievements and contributions. Not heredity. And the classification of Demon King is only granted when someone develops the same amount of, and power type as, the original Demon Kings. In other words, when a member of their race is so thoroughly blessed with the power of Chaotic energy that they transcend their previous selves, reaching a new plateau of might. It is often a random evolution, as one might expect of Chaos, and many of those who experience it have their mind twisted. Which leads to demon invasions of the human lands by mad demon kings.¡±

    ¡°The remaining human nations of the world were still rebuilding when the second invasion began, thus being named the Second Demon War. Several nations were on the brink of disaster as their defenses started to buckle under the weight of the assault when The Faith was petitioned to ask the Goddess for a solution to their problems. So, after being harassed like a tech support line, the Goddess created the Hero Summoning Circle for the humans to use, with several restrictions. The primary one being that it can only operate when the Goddess has given it her blessing, because she really didn¡¯t like the idea of random abductions. Also, the only world that people could be summoned from was Earth, because the Deity of Earth is the Divine equivalent of her brother, and their realms are close to one another, spatially speaking.¡±

    ¡°The Goddess and the God of Earth would collaborate at the time of a summoning to select the right person for the job, and someone who would actually want to perform the task they are summoned to fulfill. The first summoned hero was a Greek philosopher who went down in history mainly for revolutionizing the way magic was thought of in Meaohr, splitting it into the four elements of Fire, Water, Earth, and Wind, with ¡®Other¡¯ as a separate classification for everything else. This simplified system allowed a far faster turnaround for training magic soldiers and turned the tide of the Second Demon War. In comparison, that hero killing the Demon Kings that were leading the charge is of much lesser importance.¡±

    ¡°However, the establishment of this new magic classification served to limit people¡¯s imaginations towards the abilities of magic in general and their understanding of the world around them. This led to fewer types of magic, and the loss of magical knowledge such as the creation of new intelligent species, like the various Beast Kin races. So, no more new races popped up on Meaohr since then. Or at least that¡¯s what should have happened.¡±

    "With the destruction of Caruen, all the magical power extractors for their civilization were also destroyed. That should have been an end to the presence of Chaotic Energies in Meaorh, rationally speaking. But Chaos is, as always, hard to predict. Instead of being wiped out when the extractors were eliminated, the energies went wild and infected the foundations of Meaorh¡¯s reality. No matter where you go now, there is that little bit of Chaotic Energy present. And there are locations where this energy ends up naturally coalescing. These locations are called Labyrinths, because they distort the earth and their surroundings into living tunnel systems that draw in and propagate Chaotic Energy. The laws of reality become thinner in these locations and creatures that never should have been tend to be created inside them. Most of these creatures just drop dead without the presence of dense Chaotic Energies, but some don¡¯t. And some of these are also self aware. Over thousands of years, there have been many new intelligent races that have either been accidentally made or forcibly propagated by heretics in these labyrinths, and most of them ended up seeking shelter in the demon lands to prevent being hunted to extinction. Thus, the populations of the Demon Lands became more varied as they accepted these refugees into their midst.¡±

    ¡°Why would demons do such a kind thing? There are primarily two reasons. The first is that every new race of ¡®demon¡¯ had a new power or ability that set them apart from one another, making them militarily valuable, or just plain looked scary when holding a big ass battle axe. The second that that, as is the nature of Chaos, the occasional sane, rational, and somewhat reasonable Demon King was created who had no interest in conquering the world in the name of their dark master in the Chaotic Void, and simply just took pity on these refugees. Slowly, more and more of these ¡®Moderate Demon Kings¡¯ came into being and the Demon Realms began to stabilize. Eventually, these excessively long lived Demon Kings reached a consensus and opened their lands up to trade and diplomacy with The Faith. This set up has been in place for a few centuries, but the stigma that both the demons and the humans have against one another is still rather pronounced. While it is not exactly rare to see the members of one race living or travelling in the other¡¯s lands, it is unusual and discrimination is to be expected. Because even now, the occasional Demon King is born and goes on a mad quest to rid the world of humans.¡±

    ¡°But even so, after a few hundred years of trade, there had been a bit of commingling of the races, because humans are just plain horny. And since most of them are descended from the original humans, after all, they can propagate what are called the Demon Blooded. Humans that show signs of demonhood, without actually being different enough to be called real demons. These people are more common around the trading ports that are open to the Demon Realm ships, but as is the nature of wanderers, they are becoming less rare around the rest of the world. Even so, racism still exists, because every village and town has had ancestors who have fought and died in some Demon Invasion or another, some more recent than most. And old hatreds are the hardest to let go of.¡±

    ¡°So, with all that out of the way, I just wanted to cover what the real truth of what Daphne spoke of as to the origin of Fulchas and the Four Brothers are.¡±

    ¡°Fulchas was one of the original nations that were settled by the tribes born from the first humans, and the ones who lead the tribe there were, indeed, four brothers. But unlike what Daphne said, they were not all great men. Gordok was a warrior, and he formed the militia and then the military of Fulchas to protect the people from beasts and monsters.¡±

    ¡°Gordon was all about logistics, and he formed the taxation and funding systems that became the backbone for all the government¡¯s financial institutions.¡±

    ¡°Gordes was a man who thought about the future and worked hard to create plan the settlements to work towards a bright and orderly future. That mean roads, irrigation, waste disposal, and the founding of the civil engineering and infrastructure that build the nation from the ground up.¡±

    ¡°Gordek was a self important idiot who looked good and made people feel better about themselves when he spoke. He was fond of getting on top of soap boxes and calling attention to himself. But other than that, he was a hopeless idiot. So the other three brothers gave him the role of the leader to keep him occupied while they did all the real work and Gordek became the first King of Fulchas.¡±

    ¡°And thanks to the splitting of labor between the four brothers, four different political factions arose in Fulchas. The Military, Finance, Civic, and Royal Factions. And even now, all of them are working against one another to grab power over each other. And that¡¯s why the territory beyond the Four Brothers mountains were reclaimed in the first place. To build the installation you were summoned into. You see, the reclaimed lands have a higher concentration of ambient magic in it''s atmosphere for whatever reason, and when someone with the knowledge to potentially create a summoning system that was not under the direct control of the Goddess appeared, there were some people who saw their opportunity to grab for power. A chance for an invincible fighting force not just for fighting demons or use against other nations, but to once and for all bring the other factions of Fulchas under their power.¡±

    ¡°The military was rallied, the lands removed of dangerous monsters and beasts, and while tiny settlements were being built, the installation was covertly being created. Conveniently in the middle of nowhere. Daphne was given the run of the place for a long time as the nameless installation was being completed, and when the testing process finally began, a military presence was moved into place. And after some trial and error, that¡¯s where you came into the picture. And a very important entry you are. As to why, I¡¯m not telling just yet. After all, you won¡¯t really remember much or any of my little lesson. I just wanted to lay the groundwork for the future.¡±

    ¡°But there is one last thing I wanted to share with you before I go¡­¡±

    Chaz swiftly clapped his hands, directly in front of your eyes.

    * * * * *

    Xander sprung up from his slumber, adrenaline and aggression surging through his body, looking around him desperately for a moment before remembering where he was and flopping back down, his head striking the pillow of his bed wagon. He could remember wisps and phantasms of a dream. A figure, or a shape? Words or conversation? What was it?

    But the harder Xander tried to grasp at the dream, the harder it became to remember it. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep to have an uneasy dream, as though there was something important he had failed to remember. After Xander was able to drift off, there was a low mumble from Aase who slept next to him.

    ¡°Dum Chaz¡­¡±

 Chapter 27: Departure | Customs

    Lord Bahwell signed the travel advisory for the northeast roads with a flourish of his pen, happily completing the cover up of the two dozen slain criminals that were in Captain Theen¡¯s charge. It had taken some convincing of the priest in charge of the Rose Etching that Lord Bahwell¡¯s proclamation of a Black Rose for every member of the criminal organization was merited. Happily, there were in fact cases where Nigeman¡¯s underlings had killed someone, and Bahwell was able to push guilt by association and culpability after the fact. If Bahwell had not been able to get those men adorned with the Black Rose, then it would have been impossible to kill them in such a clean manner, without sacrificing Theen at least, since he was the one the convicts were temporarily contracted to.

    And with the ledger destroyed, and Nigeman¡¯s home swept for any lingering evidence, there was no longer any proof on Meaorh that Lord Bahwell had any hand in the dealings of Nigeman, or rather, the ambitious vassal that Lord Bahwell had take up the name of Nigeman. There was, of course, Colonel Braug. But it was of little importance since the conversation with his cat kin underling had made it clear the Colonel would not be pursuing any criminal investigation of the matters, even while making obvious that he knew of Lord Bahwell¡¯s involvement in the criminal enterprise. Lord Bahwell was entirely convinced that Colonel Braug would only be interested in demanding a potential political favor in the future. And as long as it was the realm of politics, Lord Bahwell had no doubt that he¡¯d turn matters to his advantage.

    It may have taken a while due to his standings at birth, but as a member of the Civic Faction by blood, Lord Bahwell had to be the public face of the government from an early age, and dealing with construction groups while overseeing public works projects. He had an enormous amount of experience in looking further into the future than his opponents, and maneuvering them to bring about the chain of events he so desired. And with all his minor accomplishments piled up, Lord Bahwell had obtained his honorary title and the city he resided in.

    Finding the inherent value in everything was in Bahwell¡¯s nature. Even people. And his senses told him that the people of Rogert no longer held any value for him. Nigeman¡¯s activities had been widespread and deeply felt in Rogert, which made them profitable. Now that Nigeman was dead, any attempt to replicate the previous business structure would be too recognizable. It would be dangerous to initiate a new extortion operation. No, the people of Rogert held no value. The city of Rogert on the other hand, did have a potential value, should it be used for a new smuggling route. There were always economic sanctions and high tariffs on luxury items that could be exploited for quick profit. All it would take were the right people, the right locations, and the right business structure. And Lord Bahwell was very skilled with all three matters.

    Lord Bahwell mused lightly over his future business operation as he picked up the next matter that required his attention that morning. A file on the operations of the 78th platoon that Lord Bahwell had requested to be transmitted over beacon. Lord Bahwell now owed a person in the Military Faction a favor for the report, but it was a small price to pay to make sure that Colonel Braug¡¯s orders required he not interfere with Lord Bahwell¡¯s city. While it would have been easy to just write Colonel Braug off as unthreatening, a political animal like Bahwell liked to be certain of his position where others were concerned.

    Besides, Bahwell would most likely be able to pay off the debt with some uncustomed alcohol from his future smuggling operations. Those in the military faction tended to enjoy drinking their vices.

    As Lord Bahwell read the 78th platoon¡¯s file, his eyebrows ended up lifting of their own accord and the information pushed all thoughts of his new business from his mind. Bahwell read the report twice again, and then triple checked the roster of personnel. No matter how he looked at it, there was no doubt the calico cat kin was listed there. The roster had to be accurate. But that accuracy conflicted with all the rest of the report. It was¡­ interesting. And unusual. Enough so that Bahwell could not immediately discern the value of the information. And as such, the matter weighed on his mind for hours. Until a report of new arrivals to the city reached him while he was distractedly eating lunch with his wife and a well to do merchant couple.

    It was then that Lord Bahwell decided on the value of the information he¡¯d just received. A natural smile took the place of his diplomatic one and Bahwell ended the meal with a true appetite. Once the boorish merchant couple had departed, Lord Bahwell happily wrote out an invitation that should yield enormous benefit.

    * * * * *

    As the fourth child of a noble, Knight Lieutenant Vilos Clauden had few choices for his future. Luckily he¡¯d been born with something of an aptitude for Physical Reinforcement, and hard training had honed his skill to be as sharp as the edge of his Noblesse Sword. A sword he continued using even after the rather pronounced transformation of the Seventh Knight Squadron after Knight Captain Mur had taken the role of leadership five years before. At the time, the appointment had seemed the most blatant act of shameless nepotism, placing a fifteen year old child in command of His Majesty¡¯s Seventh Squadron. But the armed and armored child had proven that few were truly born equal.

    Vilos had seen many things in his service, survived many expeditions, but seeing that fifteen year old child fight on the front lines made his blood run cold, and the accurate orders given during the expedition beyond the Four Brothers had earned his respect. After having earned his promotion under Captain Mur to the rank of Lieutenant, his loyalty to his Captain was beyond question. Even if the Captain could end up acting like a child sometimes.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going,¡± said the Captain as he stomped up the stairs of the rather questionable inn the Captain and twenty of the knights were lodging in. The kitchen staff seemed to have fresh bruising Vilos recognized as being from fisticuffs, and the proprietor said something about not wanting them to steal his doors during the checking in process. It was at that time the invitation arrived from the town¡¯s Lord, requesting the Captain¡¯s presence.

    Vilos chased Captain Mur up the stairs, already resigned to having to plead some sense into his commanding officer who was over ten years younger than himself. After escaping the intrusively loud reverberating thumps of the two fully armored knights climbing the stairs, Vilos began imploring.

    ¡°Captain, it won¡¯t do to ignore the invitation of a Lord, no matter how removed from the capital he may be.¡±

    ¡°Still not going,¡± said Mur, whose voice reverberated inside the helmet.

    Vilos had to speak up for his begging to overcome the rhythmic clunking of their combined armor on the floorboards and the slung halberd slapping against the backside of the Captain¡¯s breastplate.

    ¡°It is part of your duty as the squadron¡¯s Captain to accept invitations like these. It is military tradition, and even you can¡¯t do anything about that.¡±

    ¡°I can ignore it,¡± said Mur tersely.

    ¡°Not without repercussions to the squadron.¡±

    ¡°You can go in my place.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, since the invitation was directly addressed to you.¡±

    ¡°You can go pretending to be me.¡±

    Vilos had to roll his eyes. While he was still a thin man in combat fitness, there was no way anyone could mistake him for Captain Mur, who held a singular physique. The Captain¡¯s Physical Reinforcement magic was so powerful that the person himself looked like he didn¡¯t have any real musculature on his thin and lithe frame. The armor encasing the knight captain was so slim around the captain¡¯s thin tube of a body and elongated limbs that it was unlikely that anyone else would ever be able to wear it in combat. So the thought of Vilos masquerading as his captain would have been laughable if his ranking officer had not been completely serious.

    ¡°I highly doubt that I would be able to fool the Lord, Captain.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s just say you lost the invitation and I never got it,¡± said Mur, as he inserted the key into the door lock of his room and twisted it.

    ¡°Captain, the messenger saw you standing right next to me when I accepted the invitation from him, and then read it aloud.¡±

    The door lock clicked open, but Mur held the pose for a long moment before saying, ¡°Still not going.¡± The Captain then smoothly pulled out the key, opened the door, and then shut it behind him while entering the room. Vilos slammed the door open with a palm before his Captain could lock it from the inside.

    ¡°Captain-¡±

    Vilos¡¯ complaint was cut short as Mur struck his breastplate with his armored finger. A spark flew and Vilos felt like he¡¯d been struck by a mailed fist instead of a finger, bringing his advance to a halt.

    ¡°You know how much I hate the nobles games, Vilos. And this stinks like one of them.¡±

    ¡°...Even though we practically mobilized at your parent¡¯s request?¡±

    Mur removed the finger from Vilos¡¯ chest, and pointed it threateningly like it would strike the man up the nose and into his brain. Which was something Captain Mur was strong enough to actually do.

    ¡°That¡¯s different, and you know it. Heredity is everything.¡±

    Vilos had been born into the Noble Faction and employed in the Military Faction. And he knew enough about both to be equally disgusted with all the factions in the governing of Fulchas. Tamping down on his emotions, Vilos said pointedly, ¡°Spoken like a diehard of the Noble Faction, Captain.¡±

    ¡°Euugh,¡± said Mur, disgusted by the comparison while turning around to survey the room. Then said ¡°Euuuugh,¡± again, disgusted by the room. This did not go unnoticed by Vilos who said, ¡°Perhaps we would be able to convince the Lord to extend more amicable lodgings for us while we are in the city?¡±

    Captain Mur stood as still as a statue with his armored hands on his hips for a while, obviously weighing the levels of disgust that each of his options held before finally saying, ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll go. But I¡¯m not changing clothes.¡±

    * * * * *

    The lord¡¯s estate was more impressive than it should have been, which caused Vilos to quietly comment about the situation to his Knight Captain after they had relinquished their weapons to some of Lord Bahwell¡¯s guards. Mur merely grunted in reply, but the tone of which held the intention for the both of them to be wary. Because both knights understood that no country lord could have such a well decorated manor without some outside funding, and that meant the man might be backed by a greater power than himself. Even if he wasn¡¯t, there was every reason to tread carefully where the politics of Fulchas were concerned.

    Though Vilos, was distracted when he returned a smile given by one of the maids as she passed them by in the hallway. The five foot, ten inch man looked taller in his armor and his travel tossed blond hair painted him as something close to a wild man who was equal parts playboy, an idea that resonated with many women. It was not too far from the truth, as his own upbringing had led him to believe that domestic life was for suckers. Vilos¡¯ brown eyes followed the skirt of the departing maid for a moment before turning his eyes back to the front, a smile of self satisfaction hanging on his lips.

    Soon, the two escorted knights reached a set of double doors that a guard knocked lightly on with his gauntleted knuckles. The word ¡°Enter¡± was heard from the other side and two guards opened a door each, leading the way into the office, slash, audience chamber of the city¡¯s lord. The refreshingly handsome middle aged man sitting behind the desk rose to his feet, proclaiming welcomes as he came around to shake the hands of his guests, implying that he had no need to be frightened of approaching the two knights. Or rather, Captain Mur, as it was obvious the lord only considered Vilos as an honor guard as he granted the Knight Lieutenant a single politician¡¯s smile before gushing friendliness and sunshine all over the Captain. Captain Mur, on the other hand, merely grunted and ignored the outstretched handshake.

    The lord did a good job of pretending that he did not care about the lack of reciprocation from his guest, and gestured for the captain to be seated in a luxurious chair in front of his heavy wooden work desk. Mur sat down as though the padded silk chair was an unwelcome inconvenience. Fearing for his guest¡¯s comfort, the lord asked if his guests would like to remove some of their armor. Even if it was just the helmut. The proposal was flatly refused with the single word of, ¡°No.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Lord Bahwell moved back to his side of the desk and then started on an accolade of his domain being so blessed for one such as Captain Mur to visit, blah, blah, blah¡­

    ¡°Lord Bahwell, correct? Get to the point. I have a squadron to rest and supply, and frankly, you¡¯re wasting the military¡¯s time right now.¡±

    Mur spoke with a directness that was all but absent in the polite circles of Fulchas¡¯ government, and even the less polite circles. Lord Bahwell accepted the thinly veiled impatience of Captain Mur, as he had merely been sounding out the Knight Captain, this being their first meeting. And cut to the matter at hand.

    ¡°I have recently come into possession of information that may be of great benefit to either the Royal Faction, or the Military Faction of Fulchas, and I am somewhat confused about who to report it to. You being directly connected to both Factions, Captain Mur, would undoubtedly have a better idea of who the information would be more appreciated by.¡±

    Mur¡¯s eyes narrowed. Then turned to look over his shoulder at the two lord¡¯s guards that were flanking his own Knight Lieutenant near the sealed double doors. Catching this movement, Lord Bahwell said convivially, ¡°If you wish for your escort to wait outside, I would be most understanding.¡±

    ¡°...I¡¯m more worried about your own men,¡± said Mur bluntly.

    ¡°There is no reason to fear loose tongues from these men. They are amongst my more trusted retainers.¡±

    Mur waited silently for Bahwell to get on with matters, then feeling like he was waiting for something, Mur finally said, ¡°Get on with it.¡± The captain had a squadron to see to after all, and time was an expensive resource.

    ¡°Recently, Colonel Braug-¡± Mur¡¯s focus was entirely placed on Lord Bahwell like a snake eyeing a meal- ¡°had entered my territory along with a unit under his command.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°His stay was short and without incident. However, his presence was unexplained and unusual enough for me to make a discreet inquiry.¡±

    ¡°Into what?¡±

    ¡°Why, whatever orders had brought the Colonel to my domain of course,¡± said Bahwell with a small theatrical flourish. He had the attention of his guest now and wished to gauge their reaction to the information in his possession.

    ¡°And what did you find,¡± came the toneless inquiry from Mur. Even and lifeless, as though on the edge of boredom or impatience.

    "Nothing,¡± said Bahwell. Mur seemed to settle back into the chair slightly with the loss of energy that disappointment brought. ¡°Because the 78th platoon was completely wiped out during an expedition three seasons ago.¡±

    ¡°...Are you saying that some criminals are impersonating the lost 78th?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, the answer is not so simple,¡± said Bahwell as he pulled the file on the 78th platoon from under a few sheets of paper, and opened it to the roster of soldiers that were confirmed slain in action. ¡°For I had the occasion to speak face to face with a soldier of the ¡®false¡¯ 78th platoon who had been confirmed, and certified, dead.¡±

    ¡°That is easily explained away as a conman, or mistaken identity, Lord Bahwell.¡±

    ¡°Not with a catkin of this description. Being a military officer, you know how detailed the descriptions of our serving men and women are for record keeping. And the description of this woman was an exact match, even down to the pattern of colors in her hair. There is no doubt this is the same woman.¡±

    ¡°Then you suspect desertion? If so, then it is a simple military-¡±

    ¡°Captain Mur, once again, I must use the words, ¡®certified dead.¡¯ The military itself had guaranteed the demise of this woman and her unit. The Holy Fulchas Army could not make such a mistake if this were a simple desertion.¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°So, I¡¯m sure you see my point. I have a living corpse that has passed through my lands, and I have no idea who to inform about it. Since the military was the one who accidentally proclaimed the living to be dead, they may wish to be informed of their mistake. But then again, I¡¯m sure Captain Mur¡¯s parents would be equally, or perhaps even more interested, in information about just such an ¡®error.¡¯ Therefore, I was hoping you, Captain Mur, would be willing to offer your opinion on the matter.¡±

    Captain Mur tilted his head forward, as though lost in thought. Mur¡¯s eyes then lifted up without moving the head to look at Bahwell as he asked, ¡°Who else knows all this? If you want a good price, I will need to have accurate numbers for the bribes that need to be paid.¡±

    Lord Bahwell smiled heartily as he closed the cover on the report. Not only at the prospect of a payout, but at the opportunity for blackmail in the future. For no matter which of the two factions Captain Mur delivered the information about the military¡¯s actions to, it would mean the captain¡¯s betrayal of the other. Such a bit of information, used carefully, could open enormous opportunities down the line. Especially when one considered who Captain Mur¡¯s parents were.

    ¡°Only I myself possess this knowledge, Captain; and the other people in this room, of course.¡±

    ¡°Good. I believe you, Lord Bahwell.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. Then who were-¡±

    Lord Bahwell¡¯s delight over his negotiations were shattered in the same way his spine was when Captain Mur lunged forward and rammed Bahwell¡¯s work desk into the wall behind it with Bahwell trapped in between. As Bahwell¡¯s midsection was destroyed, he flopped forward onto his desk, breathless from the impact and from shock. He had no time to suffer his demise though as Mur¡¯s gauntleted fist came down and shattered his skull, using the desktop like the surface of a struck anvil. Mur picked up the file that only had a few stray drops of blood spray on it and took a closer look as he turned around and leaned his rear end on the edge of the desk to take a better look at the contents.

    Mur wasn¡¯t worried about the two guards in the room, as from the sound of things, Vilos had already finished cleaning them up. Vilos¡¯ dispatch of the two guards had been as fast as Captain Mur¡¯s execution of Bahwell. With the speed of his Physical Reinforcement, it had been easy for Vilos to snatch the hilt of one of the guards¡¯ swords while they were at ease, and cut through the throat of the guard on his opposite side. With a quick shuffle step, Vilos was able to face the surprised guard who¡¯d been deprived of his weapon and impale him through the heart. A quick twist of the blade, and the sound of the guard¡¯s breastplate being rent, and both the guards were dead.

    Vilos left the impaling sword where it was to draw the sword of the guard whose throat had been cut and stated, ¡°We¡¯re going to need a charge to validate these deaths, Captain.¡±

    Mur disinterestedly said, ¡°Then make one up.¡±

    Vilos took a deep breath as he looked around the room and said, ¡°Corruption should be easy enough. Bribing an officer. Sedition. I could probably go on¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± said Mur as he leaned forward and stood up from the desk¡¯s edge. ¡°From here we will confine the guards and household, and question them. If they know any details about Braug and the 78th, they will be dealt with. Have a number of the squadron bunk in this manor as well for security. And find a spare bedroom for me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Captain. But may I ask,¡± said Vilos with a hint of amusement in his voice, ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you believed Bahwell about his secrecy measures?¡±

    ¡°I did. I do. But that doesn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t mistaken.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± replied Vilos who¡¯s hint of amusement had flared into an honest smile. ¡°Now, shall we see if the guards outside these doors will accept your judgement?¡±

    Captain Mur wordlessly flexed his armored shoulder, and put the hand that was not holding the military report on the double door¡¯s handle. If one were to look into Mur¡¯s ice blue eyes, they might see anticipation within them.

    * * * * *

    Well, I can¡¯t say they were looking at me with eyes of anticipation, but the former soldiers I¡¯d had gathered around the food supply wagon I was standing on were at least curious. And that¡¯s the best an actor could really hope for, I suppose, an audience that was paying attention. So, with that, I cleared my throat and started my speech that I¡¯d put little effort into planning.

    ¡°So, first, I haven¡¯t said this yet, but I wanted to thank everyone for their excellent performance in Rogert a few days ago. I already singled out a few people, but really, everyone did a good job, except Mercy, and I wanted to let you know I appreciated it. We never would have gotten as far as we have if everyone hadn¡¯t pitched together and¡­ I¡¯m starting to sound like that guy from The Office now. So, on to the important point. Janette and I have finished taking an inventory of funds and we have enough leeway to give a preliminary sharing out of wages before we hit Arsktun and can turn our gold coins and gems into Sul.¡±

    This news was well received by the crowd. In fact, there seemed to be a lot of¡­ surprise? Wait, did these guys think I wasn¡¯t going to be paying them wages?

    ¡°Hey, did you guys think I wasn¡¯t going to be paying, or something?¡±

    I suppose I couldn¡¯t keep my indignation out of my voice, as the chattering kind of ended pretty quickly. One of the soldiers, um, a guy with sandy red hair and freckles on his nose lifted his arm and said, ¡°What with us being enslaved now, I don¡¯t think any of us were expecting to get paid a Sul, Boss. I mean, we¡¯re technically your slaves, now.¡±

    What was his name? Raymond Something?

    ¡°Well, Raymond. Can I call you Ray?¡± I didn¡¯t wait for an answer. ¡°Well, Ray, whatever you guys think your social status is, you guys are all in my employ. And while I¡¯m not able to pay you appropriately given our being on the run for our lives at the moment, I sure as hell would not be asking you guys to work for free. That would just be exploitation.¡±

    That, and I wanted these guys happy. Loyalty can¡¯t be bought, but it can be rented.

    ¡°So, everybody line up in front of the crate and Janette will share out fifteen Sul each. Make the money last, because it¡¯s all you¡¯ll be getting until we reach the trade city. Including you, Ray... See? Sim? Soh?¡±

    ¡°Sedonen,¡± the man said, a little weirded out by my trying to remember his name aloud.

    ¡°Ray Sedonen. Got it. So, line up everyone, and put some clinkity-clink in your pockets.¡±

    There was a buzz of happy excitement as everyone formed a single file line and some rather loud contentment as they walked away from the crate with heavier pockets. I was glad to have this out of the way since it had been on my to-do list since we were still traveling beyond the Four Brothers, and it felt good to have it off my back. And speaking of things on my to do list, I walked up to a happy Callic who was doing some low key flirting with Iyleen and said, ¡°Hey, Callic. I need some sparring practice. You wanna partner up with me?¡±

    ¡°What,¡± he asked back, his good mood instantly gone.

    ¡°I need live combat practice, and I figure fighting you would be a good place to start.¡±

    Callic was unlikely to hold back in sparring, even with the Enslavement. He was a good candidate for getting a feeling for life and death battle.

    ¡°That¡¯s not gonna happen,¡± said Callic flatly.

    Or not.

    ¡°Uh, Callic, you¡¯re enslaved to me, and I¡¯m telling you what I want from you. I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯re suppose to do what I tell you to.¡±

    ¡°Not when you¡¯re an idiot who¡¯s trying to skip a bunch of steps.¡±

    Okay, that¡¯s weird. It¡¯s like Callic was almost, kinda, sorta trying to give some advice there.

    ¡°What are you talking about, Callic? And without the insults for now.¡±

    Callic rolled his eyes and asked Iyleen to make herself scarce.

    ¡°Look, buddy,¡± said Callic, keeping the insults out of things but not the attitude. ¡°Have you ever once used Physical Reinforcement on purpose?¡±

    ¡°Maybe?¡± Callic stared at me like he was waiting for me to stop being a dick. He¡¯d have to wait for a long time, though. Instead I just asked, ¡°What makes you think I don¡¯t use it on purpose?¡±

    ¡°The dent in Nigeman¡¯s armor,¡± Callic said instantly. ¡°It was the perfect shape of a boot print. I wasn¡¯t there for the fight, but I hear you and he had something of a close match for a while.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And if you were capable of denting a guy¡¯s armor like that whenever you wanted, the fight shouldn¡¯t have been anything like a close match. You¡¯d have walked all over the guy. It was the same thing when you fought those three yokels who stomped you into the dirt in that basement in the inn. A few of your movements were faster and stronger, were enhanced, but for the most part, you only had physical power backing your movements.¡±

    My eyeballs wandered a little as I said, ¡°I¡­ actually wasn¡¯t trying to use any Physical Reinforcement in the basement.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Callic, as a statement and not an exclamation. ¡°You don¡¯t have any control over your own magic.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I can fire, like, three of those air daggers at the same time now.¡±

    ¡°I meant your internal magic, nitwit.¡±

    ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear,¡± I nodded in assent.

    Callic rolled his eyes and said, ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s why you¡¯re not gonna be sparring with anyone until you learn to control your damn magic. You¡¯d just hurt yourself or someone else.¡±

    ¡°Alright, then train me in that,¡± I said without any shame. I just wanted to get stronger and learning always went faster with a teacher.

    ¡°Really? You think it¡¯s that simple? We spend the first month in basic training on learning Physical Reinforcement. It¡¯s hard work that requires a lot of concentration, and something tells me you don¡¯t have the stones for it.¡±

    Callic was posturing now as though he had a pair of six shooters on his belt. I wasn¡¯t going to be daunted though.

    ¡°I¡¯ve played Monopoly with my grandparents and put together ten thousand piece puzzles before, Callic. I can do concentration.¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what any of that means. But if you¡¯re sure you wanna train your Physical Reinforcement, I suppose I could be bothered to help you along a little. If you¡¯re sure, that is.¡±

    ¡°As sure as the fact that your face makes children cry.¡±

    ¡°Great! I¡¯ll wake you up bright and early for training,¡± said Callic, completely ignoring my dig and walking away with a bright smile on his face.

    Wait. What? Bright and early? But¡­ I like sleeping. Did Callic just play me?

    Well. Shit.

 Chapter 28: Departure | Layover

    ¡°No spears here, either,¡± I simultaneously asked and incredulously exclaimed. ¡°Is there absolutely no one who sells spears in this entire country?!¡± This was the third shop I¡¯d inquired in since I left Rogert and the answer was always the same. They didn¡¯t make or sell spears.

    The owner and smith of the all purpose metal shop in the small town nodded his head and said, ¡°Most likely not.¡±

    He was a well muscled man with scars from burns and other sources on his arms and white appearing at his temples. He was wearing a workmans leather apron with soot stains all over him. And he seemed pretty dang sure of himself in his answer for a blacksmith of a small town on a highway stopping point. Seeing that, Xander had to ask the man to explain himself.

    ¡°Well now, lad, I don¡¯t know how it is in the port havens you Demon Bloods live in,¡± I quickly interjected with the words ¡°I¡¯m not a demon,¡± that the blacksmith completely ignored as he continued on, ¡°But tell me what you see outside this here town.¡±

    ¡°I dunno. Farmland?¡±

    ¡°Beyond that,¡± said the blacksmith waiting for me to catch up with where he was going with this.

    ¡°A shitload of trees?¡± Seriously. There were way too many trees in this country. The caravan had to stop twice to clear the highway of tree debris for our wagons to continue on. Every camp ground was nestled against the forest and the only time I¡¯d seen plains was where there were crops growing out of them since I¡¯d come to this world.

    ¡°Exactly,¡± said the blacksmith as though I¡¯d just answered the outstanding question of the universe. But I was pretty sure my answer was not 42, so I was confused. When I prodded the blacksmith to explain himself he continued with, ¡°Kid, I spent the full ten years in the army, and seen this nation from one end to the other. And I can tell you for a certain fact that every square inch is covered in forest. Have you ever fought in a forest, kid? Unless you have short weapons there¡¯s a real good chance you¡¯ll get hung up on a tree branch and get gutted for your troubles. Hell, that¡¯s how I got my first kill. That¡¯s why we use short swords in Fulchas, lad. Because they work.¡±

    That¡­ made more than a little sense. I mean, if the environment made a weapon a liability, then you¡¯d use a different weapon, right? That¡¯s what I did when I got Nigeman to trim down my staff when we fought. But while it made sense, I was untrained and shitty with a sword. I wouldn¡¯t feel comfortable in a fight without a spear, no matter the combat zone.

    ¡°Is there anywhere I can get a proper spear in Fulchas? Anywhere at all,¡± I asked in a last desperate request.

    ¡°Only places I can think of are in the border towns that see trade from other nations. They tend to stock things that appeal to Fulchans and non-Fulchans alike. But I don¡¯t know if you¡¯d be able to count on their quality. People don¡¯t tend to put a lot of effort into making things they don¡¯t know if they can sell.¡±

    I sighed heavily and resigned myself to using laundry poles for the foreseeable future. It was a good thing I¡¯d been working on my air daggers so much, because I sure as hell wasn¡¯t going to be killing anyone with a physical weapon any time soon. Oh, wait.

    ¡°Hey, old man,¡± I said as the forgotten thought had jumped back to the forefront of my mind. ¡°Do you have any good daggers you sell here?¡±

    The blacksmith gave me an evaluating look and asked, ¡°Knives or daggers?¡±

    ¡°Whichever. Just as long as it¡¯s suited to slitting a throat and is strong enough to block a sword swing.¡±

    The blacksmith stared at me for a few moments trying to gauge me for some reason.

    ¡°You know, practical uses,¡± I followed up. If the dude¡¯s gonna keep looking at me like that, I might just leave. I was a customer, and I didn¡¯t have to tolerate rude looks trying to peer into my soul.

    ¡°Fine,¡± the blacksmith eventually said and hitched a thumb towards a business counter. ¡°I¡¯ll show my stock to ya there.¡±

    After disappearing into the back of the shop for a minute, the blacksmith arrived with a shallow crate lined with straw that had a large multitude of daggers in it. They were in leather sheathes, so I picked one up and pulled the blade free saying, ¡°This is all your daggers?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then where¡¯s the rest?¡±

    ¡°Kid, these aren¡¯t daggers. These are knives. If you¡¯re gonna be buying from me, at least get the names right.¡±

    ¡°...What¡¯s the difference?¡±

    ¡°Daggers are thinner than knives, they¡¯re used for penetrating armor or decorative little shit stickers for nobles to wear at their parties when swords aren¡¯t allowed. I got a couple I made for fun, but they¡¯ll shatter under a sword swing and they¡¯re built for stabbing, not cutting.¡±

    ¡°So they¡¯re useless then?¡±

    ¡°Not if they save yer life, kid.¡±

    I gave an unconvinced growl and pulled one knife after the next free of their sheathes to look at them. Some were basically non-folding pocket knifes meant for skinning rabbits or the like. Some were a bit larger, but I skimmed over them all in favor of the three largest ones. One of the three was an automatic fail because the hilt had a knuckle guard over one side. That style would probably be good for a consumate knife fighter, but the guard would only get in the way of me gripping the hilt when I was in a hurry. I knew because I tried a few practice grabs with it.

    The second and third knives were without any obvious defects, for my use at least. I pulled the longer and thinner knife from the sheath and tested the weight. It was balanced and fine. Good product. Then I pulled free the last one and fell in love.

    It looked like a slightly smaller bowie knife, the knife that won the west. The tang, the flat backbone of the knife, was completely straight until about two inches from the knife¡¯s point where it was sharpened and curved in to meet the cutting side of the blade to form a dangerous looking point. Even I could tell this meant more piercing power than if the tang had been completely flat like a kitchen knife. The body of the knife¡¯s main cutting edge had a subtle but wicked curve in it as well to increase the weight distributed into its cutting edge, putting more weight and power into it¡¯s swings. And there was a serrated sawing edge for the three inches of the cutting blade extending out from the handle. My first thought was that it was very good for ripping people¡¯s guts, but then I realized it was probably for cutting tree branches for firewood.

    It was a very good knife and well made. Even the grip felt good in the palm of my hand. The unfamiliar weight promised effectiveness when I needed it as well. At some point a smile had crept over my face, like the time the shop owner let me heft that Kimber forty-five cal that had entranced me from the other side of the store. Seeing the look on my face, the blacksmith said, ¡°Hell yeah, am I right? That baby there is everything I wished I¡¯d had when I was a grunt. You want me to wrap it up, or will you be wearing it out of the store?¡±

    I had to admit, the blacksmith asking the question like a clothing shop attendant made me smile even more. But I still confirmed the price before I let thoughts of ownership carry me away. In the end, I was able to haggle the blacksmith down from six Sul to four, and then wore my purchase out of the store.

    * * * * *

    ¡°Captain,¡± said Vilos as he interrupted Mur¡¯s practice swings in the courtyard of the former Bahwell estate. There were seven or eight of the knighthood sitting around, exhausted from their sparring match with their captain while the person in question was a safe distance away swinging the halberd with trained tenacity.

    Mur stood up from his combat stance and asked, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve finished finalizing the reports of the scouts we sent out. All returned alive and unharmed.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± remarked Mur as he swung the halberd to insert the haft through a loop of metal reinforced leather above the left hip and threaded the shaft through until a thicker part was near a knobby protrusion near the right shoulder blade of Mur¡¯s breastplate. ¡°Lock me in.¡±

    Vilos lightly pulled on a mechanism that opened the knobby protrusion and placed the halberd¡¯s haft into the hollow, the thicker part of the haft on the opposite opening, before closing the knobby protrusion around the shaft. There was a click as the securement sealed shut, ready to be opened by a strip of metal reinforced leather hanging down from Mur¡¯s right shoulder. It was the device that made it possible for Mur to carry around his halberd at all times without occupying a hand. It also meant that Mur had to always be armored whenever carrying the halberd, but he didn¡¯t mind that fact at all. It may have even been a comfort.

    ¡°The office,¡± asked Mur, to which Vilos replied, ¡°Yes, captain.¡±

    Mur began walking with Vilos behind him. The path took them through the hall past a room in which Lady Bahwell was reading to her two children, daughters both. Lady Bahwell had been acting bravely through the last fiveday since her husband¡¯s execution, and had kept her children calm enough that nothing unfortunate happened. Seeing the woman doting on her children caused Mur to pause a half step, peering into the room for a half second longer than he needed to before returning to the business at hand. Even so, Mur reflected inwardly that the Lady and the children had been cleared of any knowledge of the 78th platoon, Braug, or the confirmed charges of corruption against the late Lord Bahwell. Which meant that unless his parents were feeling singularly cruel or paranoid, which they could be on occasion, all three of the women would be fine in the future, provided their family connections held out. It was actually a fairly comforting idea, needless as it was, though, since if an order came back for it, Mur would kill them all himself.

    Mur reached the office of the deceased Lord Bahwell and sat behind his desk in his office chair, where the left armrest had been torn off for the sake of Mur being able to comfortably sit with his halberd in place. Mur removed his helmet for the first time since breakfast, placing it on the top of the desk. What was revealed from under the metal was hair as dark as obsidian, that caught and played with the light cast upon it and hung perfectly straight just past the jawline. There was a spot on the right side of Mur¡¯s forehead that was pure white, inherited from Mur¡¯s father, and the hair that hung down the right side of the face and brushed over to the left side created something of an unnatural and exotic frame to Mur¡¯s features. Features for an oblong face, where none were overly pronounced, but instead slightly stretched in length. If it were not for the crystal blue eyes and sun starved complexion, any world traveller from Earth would have assumed Mur was a woman from the Eastern Mediterranean sea.

    At first glance, anyone would assume that Mur was a woman, because Mur¡¯s facial features were far too beautiful and perfect to belong to a man. Once someone heard Mur speak without the helmet, that impression would be confirmed as Mur¡¯s voice was deep and sonorous like the aural equivalent of black silk without a hint of masculinity in it.

    ¡°The scouts sent south reported nothing, it seems. Looks like the destination Braug gave the gatekeepers was false after all.¡±

    ¡°So it seems, captain.¡±

    ¡°The scouts sent east, though¡­ Strange. These reports match the rogue military group we¡¯re after, but at the same time, they don¡¯t. Which means this ¡®caravan¡¯ as they call themselves is either not Colonel Braug¡¯s missing underlings, or they have disguised themselves.¡±

    Mur pressed together her pouty lips as she studied the remainder of the scout report. There was no report for any directions to the west of Rogert, or even to the north. Colonel Braug and his cronies had traveled to Rogert from the west, so there was little point in them travelling from Rogert back to the west. And the group left through the southern gates, meaning they¡¯d have to circle around half the settlements of the city to even begin travelling north, leaving far too many witnesses for such a tactic to be effective in covering their tracks.

    ¡°My thoughts exactly, Captain. But some of these reports are-¡±

    ¡°Bizaar. Yes.¡±

    Mur narrowed her eyes as she studied the part of the report concerning the intelligence the scout had obtained from the village blacksmith. The physical description was all kinds of conflicting. This caused Mur to look into the report at length before saying anything else. After fully ingesting the intelligence, Mur said, ¡°We have to consider the possibility that Braug has been compromised by another nation, or dead.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s somewhat of a leap, Captain. Care to explain your logic?¡±

    ¡°Vilos, you should know about Braug¡¯s Noblesse Armor, correct?¡±

    ¡°I have seen the report, yes.¡±

    ¡°Then you should recognize the coat worn by the man shopping for a weapon in this report. There is no way a man like Braug would willingly allow someone else to wear his own armor. That means he¡¯s either no longer alive to protest, or someone has so solidly taken control over him that he can not risk a protest.¡±

    ¡°I fully agree, Captain. He is likely dead or captive. Especially since the report said nothing about a member of that ¡®caravan¡¯ matching his description. The part I¡¯m confused about is, why would you believe it was another nation that was responsible.¡±

    Mur narrowed her almond shaped eyes and said, emphatically and full of meaning, ¡°He was trying to buy a spear.¡±

    Vilos lightly uttered the words, ¡°Oh, of course.¡± After all, there was no way any native Fulchan would prefer to use a spear, especially anyone who¡¯d served in the military. Which meant the man in Braug¡¯s armor was not from Fulchas.

    ¡°But the fact that he wished for a spear, or any physical weapon is also strange,¡± continued Mur, losing herself slightly in her own thoughts and merely giving voice to them aloud. ¡°Because if he¡¯s wearing Noblesse Armor, he must therefore be a magic user. Why would a magician even want a physical weapon instead of a focus?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps he just likes the coat¡¯s style? Or wears it as a trophy?¡±

    ¡°As if such a reason could be likely. Unless the man was particularly starved for clothing, why would he take a coat that can¡¯t be used? One that likely would not fit him nearly as well as one he could have bought in a shop any other day of the week? No. The man must be a mage. A demon blooded mage...¡±

    ¡°Then he¡¯s not from Rennou,¡± said Vilos.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Vilos shrugged a little and said, ¡°As good as you are Captain, there are some things only experience can teach. You know how much Rennou hates demonkind, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the half of it. I saw a border town lynch a wealthy merchant for being dressed in Arachne silk. That¡¯s how much the people of Rennou hate anything to do with demons. No one from Rennou, especially those in power, would risk dealings with their kind. Even in secret.¡±

    ¡°Which leaves a half dozen other possible nations. Speculating on our foe is pointless, Lieutenant. For now we pursue, and we do it quickly. Our target has at least a sevenday head start on us, maybe even a week. Prepare the squadron. I will write a dispatch to my parents.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re quite the dutiful daughter when you want to be,¡± said Vilos with a sarcastic smile on his face, and continued on before Mur¡¯s glare could advance into a browbeating. ¡°But there¡¯s something that¡¯s been bothering me. Why is the 78th following the orders of a non-Fulchan Demon Blood? Especially if Braug is out of the picture? I read the report on them. Solid and capable enough to be trusted with a special mission, but not so important that they¡¯d be missed on disappearing. They couldn¡¯t all be traitors, and the reports match the physical descriptions and numbers to perfection. Even the extra civilians. It doesn¡¯t make sense that Braug and his retainers would be eliminated and no one else.¡±

    Mur was quiet for a long moment before saying as a flat statement, ¡°My parents are holding something back from me.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my guess, Captain. So I¡¯d be careful what you report to them. You might be their daughter, but we¡¯re all military in the Seventh Squadron. And that means we¡¯re all expendable.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Vilos exited the office, closing the door behind him as he did so, with his captain silently staring at a blank sheet of paper on the desk.

    * * * * *

    I was staring intently at the object that was hanging over the entire camp. It was the magic I¡¯d decided to name ¡°Rain Guard¡± for ease of casting. It was basically a long, wide, and thin version of my solid air attacks, except instead of using it to break bones I had tied off the magic to remain floating above the campground to keep the rain off of us. Like I¡¯d done with the sound blocking field in the secret base and the cones I¡¯d fired into Nigeman¡¯s body. But to say I¡¯m ¡®tying off¡¯ my magic¡­ It didn¡¯t quite feel accurate¡­

    Emplacement. Yeah, that sounded more appropriate.

    It was a curious feeling, even now. It was like I was like¡­ Damn. Like, uh¡­ Well, using magic, like constantly using it, was like flexing a mental muscle. I was diverting my attention and willpower into doing it. So when I tried the flight magic, as soon as I was distracted, the effect ended. But Emplacing magic, it was like¡­ well, I guess I could describe it as throwing a dart.

    You do the flexing, but with the purpose of letting go of the spell and having it stick in a specified spot. But at the same time, there was this kind of remaining link between the spell and me, so it wasn¡¯t completely cast off. Like, I¡¯m still powering the magic, but not consciously. I was still getting feedback from the magic when I concentrated on it, but otherwise the feeling of the Rain Guard was relegated to the background of my mind. Like that annoying song you¡¯re not thinking about and just jumps up every now and then when your thoughts pause and you find yourself humming a few bars over and over again.

    It was an interesting feeling¡­ and the Emplacement effect had already proven its use in the fight with Nigeman. But this particular magic, the Rain Guard. Try as I might I can¡¯t think of how to use it in combat. I mean, I could make it thicker and harder, and set it up as a defense against a volley of arrows, (Essea mentioned arrows and crossbows were a thing in this world when I talked with her about Wind Magic before) and I¡¯ve already developed the Arrow Guard derivation of this magic¡­ But there¡¯s no point in using something like this in personal combat. I knew because I already tried it.

    On a previous rainy day, I worked on some personal shielding that I named ¡°Point Guard¡± and had Callic throw some attacks at the floating sheets of solidified air. The results were unsatisfactory. The thinner plates were shattered or cut through easily with conventional means (Callic broke one with just his damn fist), and the thicker ones that took more time to make were cut through with Callic¡¯s fire magic sword. Which meant the entire point of the Point Guard spell, making a floating and Emplacable shield that could deflect attacks the mage armor coat I¡¯ve taken to wearing in every town couldn¡¯t¡­ well it was an enormous failure. It took more energy and time to make the Point Guard plates than it would to block or evade an attack.

    With all this experimentation, I could see how mage armor came to be a thing. A worn mechanism that automatically drew from the wearer¡¯s reservoir to protect against attacks. A reliable and automatic defense. One I couldn¡¯t improve upon. Yet, at least. It was my considered opinion that the magic of this world was systematized and oversimplified. If a guy like me was constantly doing strange new things with it, then there had to be a lot of untapped potential. So, the men¡¯s romance of personal shielding had been pursued during the dead hours of the evenings when there was little else to do. With continually wasted effort. Leaving me taking the most desperate act I could take.

    Consulting Mercy.

    ¡°Well, Xander,¡± said the mad scientist with an even voice, ¡°Have you tried imprinting your magic into a Focus?¡±

    ¡°Have I tried doing what now?¡±

    ¡°imprinting. Into a Focus.¡±

    Mercy had better not be acting intentionally obtuse here, or she¡¯s getting more than a few smacks upside the head. I mean, I did it to people intentionally, but it was funny when I did it.

    ¡°Mercy, I have never been properly told what a focus is, how they¡¯re made, or how they¡¯re used. I break every one that I touch, remember?¡±

    ¡°Ah! Yes, I can see how that would make things difficult¡­¡±

    ¡°Mercy, are you really trying to say you forgot I can¡¯t touch focuses? Foci? You were there when I destroyed Colonel Lumpy¡¯s focus, you know.¡±

    ¡°Yes, now that I recall, any quartz you touch will immediately be overloaded. Ah, I tried an experiment with Aase later. She has a similar effect on quartz, but she didn¡¯t destroy it right away. The quartz lit, then pulsed bright before exploding. While the final effect on the quartz was exactly like your own, the means by which-¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± I hollered at close range. Whether it was the Enslavement magic or just that I shouted at her, Mercy shut her damn mouth on her Magibabble. Then I sighed and said, ¡°Well Mercy, considering I can¡¯t use Foci, it seems like this is a rather pointless conversation to continue with. Good night.¡±

    Mercy cocked her head and asked, ¡°When did I say you couldn¡¯t use a Focus? All I remember mentioning was that you overloaded quartz.¡±

    That seemed like¡­ a rather important distinction¡­ Oh, for fucks sake, Mercy start with important stuff like that, would ya? I was so tempted to slap Mercy upside the head, but I bit back the aggression and growled for her to explain properly. There was a bit of aggression in the word ¡®properly¡¯ that I couldn¡¯t bite back, though.

    ¡°Well, quartz is simply the most easily used mineral for the creation of Imprinted goods and Foci. There have been many long term studies about-¡±

    ¡°Only cover the highlights, please.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, the basics are, that clear and crystalline formations are the best at refocusing and utilizing magical power, whether from a person or a quartz battery. Apparently a lack of coloring ¡®impurities¡¯ allows an easier flow of magical power, and the insertion of desired effects. So, glass, quartz, crystal, and diamonds are the most efficient materials for utilization of magic power. But the durability of a Focus also allows for greater amounts of magical power to flow through it without compromising its structural integrity. Thus, fragile glass is pointless for all but the most delicate of imprints, such as light sculptures, and diamonds are the more desirable for, well, everything else.¡±

    I had to interject at that moment, since there was an absolute flabbergasting point that Mercy had just raised. ¡°Wait, are you actually telling me you make your magical crap in this world out of diamonds?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no. Not at all. Diamonds are far too rarely found to be utilized for Foci or Imprinting. Finding a diamond without a flaw and in the right size for a specified imprints is actually quite difficult. So, we use quartz, which we can manufacture and customize to our purposes for all things magic related.¡±

    ¡°You can make synthetic quartz? But you can¡¯t make synthetic diamonds?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. Though several decades ago, there was an alchemist that tried to do so for the Currain Empire. I¡¯ve heard she produced limited results, but the expenses were so great that after a few years, the Empress at the time ordered her quite painfully executed for excessive waste of royal funds. Aside from her, there were some legendarily capable earth mages in the past who were able to purify the flaws in various diamonds, making them usable as Foci, but any powerful earth mages in the past few centuries have been put towards battle and siegework use. Or just plowed fields.¡±

    ¡°So Mercy, exactly what is the point you¡¯re trying to make with all this?¡± Not that I didn¡¯t appreciate the small history lesson, but really, it¡¯s only at the level of trivial importance.

    Mercy stopped talking completely, thought hard and asked, ¡°I had a point?¡± Before I could slap her upside the head, Mercy exclaimed upon remembering, ¡°Oh, yes! I would like your permission to get a diamond from Janette.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°To test whether or not you¡¯d be able to use a diamond as a Focus.¡±

    Okay, I¡¯m not so stupid as to not see the importance of knowing whether or not I can use diamonds for Foci. But then again¡­ exploding diamonds¡­ ¡°Make sure you bring the smallest diamond we have, Mercy.¡±

    After some minutes, Mercy returned with a diamond about a fifth of the size of a pea. In the time that Mercy was gone I¡¯d obtained a breastplate, a pair of gauntlets, and a shield. Holding the shield up, covering my neck and face, I extended my gauntleted hand as far away from my body as I could and said, ¡°Alright Mercy. Put the diamond in my hand.¡± I think I was able to keep the fear and anxiety out of my voice, but I think some of the people around reacted and moved towards cover.

    I had my teeth grit, ready for the searing pain of gemstone shards tearing my flesh apart, but nothing happened. Relaxing slightly, I asked aloud, ¡°Mercy? How is the situation?¡±

    ¡°The diamond is glowing the way an active Focus would, Xander. There seems to be no problems with it.¡±

    I held the shield in front of my face a while longer. For some reason, Mercy¡¯s guarantee did not instill me with confidence. I finally asked, ¡°You sure?¡±

    ¡°Yes, quite sure.¡±

    It was still a few moments before I chanced lowering the shield, and there I saw the diamond shining gently in the palm of my gauntleted hand.

    ¡°Now to try contact with the flesh,¡± said Mercy as she picked up the diamond, and slid the gauntlet I had neglected to buckle in place off my hand. Before my protests could amount to anything more than partial words, Mercy had already deposited the diamond into my hand. After an involuntary wince and recoil, nothing happened. I opened my eyes again and saw the diamond on the fleshy palm of my hand, doing nothing but shining a little brighter.

    ¡°Well, hey, look at that,¡± I said with quiet satisfaction. I had no idea how much it would mean to be able to touch something magical without it exploding. It was like I was cradling a baby bird or something. Then reality slightly dampened my happiness as I said, ¡°Now just comes the unrealistic goal of finding a load of diamonds I can use for imprinting¡­¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re underestimating the value of our discovery, Xander. The fact that there is a material out there that can be used for the sake of creating a proper focus for you, a summoned human through my own personal circle, is of exceeding import. The gathering of materials for future study is of significantly less importance. The fact that we know what we need for the future; that is what¡¯s valuable.¡±

    I thought hard for a moment before saying, ¡°I guess you¡¯re right, Mercy. We now have a starting point for- FUCKS ALIVE!¡±

    The entire sky light up like it was day as I fell over backwards jerking my hand to toss the diamond away from myself as quickly as possible. Mercy dove after it, and I couldn¡¯t see if she retrieved it as I had fallen flat on my back as the sky kept burning in different colors. There was a restless surge of excitement in the camp as everyone exclaimed aloud before someone cried, ¡°It¡¯s only the fucking elves, again!¡±

    There was an audible groan and the tension settled as people either went back to what they were doing or simply watched the lights in the sky calmly. The sky lights were like aurora borealis, except thicker and with more illumination than I would expect. The light changed color and swirled off in the distance, but the color stained all of the visible night sky. I was caught in rapt attention, my entire being focused on the sight as I felt something special from it. Aase soon appeared near me, but she didn¡¯t say a thing. She stared at the same swirling and dancing colors that I was, her whole being caught as well. Eventually, I asked aloud to the air around us, ¡°What is that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s your first time seeing it, right boss,¡± asked Zent who meandered up to Aase and I. ¡°It¡¯s a sight to see, huh?¡±

    It sure was. My first thought on it was that the sky was aflame, and then the similarity to the assaulting colors I suffered through when I was summoned to this world struck me. But after watching it for a while, I realized they were completely different. The colors here were moving like an organized and well rehearsed dance routine. They were moving like graceful living entities rather than random assaulting forces. It was like watching the most well organized fireworks display of my life, minus the explosions.

    Zent continued on while my mind was processing the sight, categorizing it¡¯s beauty and harmless nature. ¡°That¡¯s the Choral Magic of the Elves. The one they use to blow up entire armies.¡±

    ¡°The fuck!?¡± Okay, seriously? Even Aase exclaimed, ¡°Hva!?¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± I said with the importance of a man needing information right-fucking-now, ¡°First, there are elves in this world. Secondly they¡¯re being attacked, and thirdly they¡¯re blowing their attackers up right now!? Do we need to take cover or something?¡±

    Zent kind of backed up a step and waved his hand in front of him saying, ¡°No, no, no! They¡¯re just practicing their magic, not using it to blow people up! Sorry if I spooked you. The elves do that once a month or so like we do morning drills. They turn it into, like, a performance or something. I hear the weaponized version looks completely different, but I think there only a few people who are still alive that have seen it in action.¡±

    ¡°Practice my ass,¡± grunted Callic from a little ways off. ¡°They¡¯re just a bunch of jerks showing off their power. Making sure no one gets the idea to knock them off their high horses. I¡¯m going to bed.¡±

    I looked back towards the lightshow, and I started to feel what I had felt before all over again. It wasn¡¯t an emotion or a feeling of awe that had been the sensation that had captured my attention. The show was beautiful, I¡¯d give it that. No. What I felt from the lightshow was the magic. Even hundreds, or thousands of miles away, I could feel the magic that was in those dancing colors in the lightshow.

    ¡°One thing¡¯s for sure, though,¡± I said aloud, a feeling of cold dread encroaching on my sense of wonder. ¡°I pity anyone who¡¯d try and pick a fight with those people.¡±

    * * * * *

    Duke Faberjeene sat in the dreary room with his eyes closed, waiting, listening. He was not alone, as his pale butler stood motionless as a statue by his side. Duke Faberjeene¡¯s manor was one of the finest in the region, with great works of art and comfortable furniture throughout. But the room he sat in, in a regular and unadorned chair that looked so rustically uncomfortable to sit upon, was bare of any comforts. The chair was the only furniture. The walls had no decorations. And there were strange stains and marks over odd surfaces of the room¡¯s interior.

    It was in that room that Faberjeene sat. His breath was slow and even, and his pale skin seemed paler still, as though he had crossed from the edge of death over to the grave itself. The air leaving his nose and mouth as he breathed coiled in vapor upon his exhalation. And with his eyes still closed, he lifted an arm and reached out. Not just physically, as a faint glimmer of colorless magic stretched from him, to beyond the room. After a time, it seemed like something else arrived, as Faberjeene¡¯s face took on a visage of warmth and kindness.

    ¡°Hello Kaila,¡± said Faberjeene to the air with his eyes still closed. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re still doing well. Was there something you wished to talk with me about? ...No, no, of course you can just visit. But it feels like you have something urgent about you today. ...Oh, Kaila, if you force me to guess we¡¯ll be here the rest of the night. Please don¡¯t tease me too much. ...In that case, happily. Please, oh great and beautiful Kaila, I beg your indulgence.¡±

    Faberjeene¡¯s voice held a kindness not unlike that of an uncle seeing his favorite niece would have. Though his body did not move an inch nor did his eyes open at all while he was speaking to empty air. And for a minute, he sat still, doing nothing more than listening and making a few random noises to express his attention to something unheard by any but his own ears. Finally, Faberjeene said, ¡°Why that is interesting. Thank you ever so much, Kaila, for telling me. Is there anyway you can bring this man to speak with me? ...Thank you, Kaila the great and merciful. I will wait with baited breath.¡±

    And so he did. Quietly. Silently. He waited. Until there came a presence again. One that seemed to dampen the meager light that was in the room even further. Faberjeene did not react to this presence except to say, :Thank you for escorting the man to me, Kaila. I hope I can ask you for some privacy? ...Thank you, my dear.¡±

    The double doors that were the only way into the room closed by themselves, with an echoing boom.

    ¡°I was told you have a very interesting story to share, my friend. I would love to hear it. ...Why, you would gain the ear of one who resides in the material world, of course! For one in your situation, I dare say that alone would be invaluable. And further, if we find each other agreeable, I dare say we could do great things together. Is that also not a reason for us to speak? ...Thank you. I will most gratefully listen.¡±

    And listen he did. For the time which the unknown presence communed, Faberjeene did not move but to utter sounds to facilitate the telling of a story, and small questions of, ¡°And then what?¡± Finally, Faberjeene said, ¡°Truly interesting. I believe you have helped me greatly, Colonel. If there is something within my power to aid you, I will do so. ...I¡¯m afraid I will have to refuse. ...Because the man you wish for me to take revenge upon may very well be the man I seek. ...I did not lie, nor did I use you. I promised that we may be able to help one another. And so I still can. If you can let go of your malice, I believe I can help you find your way to Paradise. ...No, I have no proof at all. Simply- ...I am no such thing. I never promised anything but possabil- ...Good sir, if you do not calm yourself, I will be forced to act. ...Do you really think I can do nothing to the dead? Hmm-hm-hm.¡±

    Faberjeene¡¯s smiling face cut open as he began to sing, a slow, sad ballad of loss and pain in a language unknown to anyone but himself in the room. With each note ushered from his throat, the atmosphere inside the room changed. There was a dull heaviness that was not there before, and the dim light seemed to color unnaturally. The light slowly became redder and redder, and became a deeper hue as the air itself chilled such that a fine mist hung through the entirety of the room. As the presence noticed the change, there arose a loud growl from no material throat and there was a thudding at the walls, and a scraping at the floor and the ceiling. Finally, the doors of the room began to bang, as a force attempted unsuccessfully to throw them open and escape.

    Finally, the mist hung heavy enough that there was a visible void in it, one that turned upon Faberjeene in his chair. A loud growl was heard in the room again, and Faberjeene opened his eyes to look into that man shaped void. Faberjeene only smiled while singing, and his voice grew in delighted intensity. The presence in the room growled again, and lunged.

    Faberjeene¡¯s previously immobile servant moved like a released arrow, diving to cover Faberjeene. The servant¡¯s clothes were rent along his back, and the flesh was torn. Fire erupted on the body of the servant, but he did not move. Fire erupted on the walls and crawled along the floor, a fire a hue too pale to be natural. It assaulted the chamber, and tried to reach Faberjeene, but his servant relentlessly hung on him as a shield. Finally, there was a growl from the air that made the previous growls seem like those of a pup, and the void in the misty air froze up and turned in horror.

    The mist of the room swirled like a typhoon had erupted. Noise was everywhere as Faberjeene continued to sing his sad ballad, that held a note of mad glee. The figure in the mist seemed to brace itself against what was happening, but could not react to what came. A void far larger than it, that had the feature of a voracious maw that was so great that it could not possibly fit even a part of it¡¯s presence in the chamber. It swallowed the figure in the mist like a whale would a minnow, and simply passed through the chamber and to eternity afterward.

    The last few notes of Faberjeene¡¯s ballad came to a sonorous, and lamentary close. As the last note hung in the air, the doors to the chamber opened, and the few remaining mists in the room reacted to a new disturbance, a void that was half as tall as the one that was there before.

    ¡°Thank you for the help, Kaila. I dare say our rude guest would have suspected something if I had been the one to close the chamber. It never truly pleases me to send one to The Beast, but it had to be done. ...No, no, you were truly a great help. Do not doubt yourself,¡± said Faberjeene as he lightly brushed the peak of the void in the dwindling mists. ¡°You¡¯re a good and kind girl. I count myself lucky to be your friend. And as your friend, I ask once again. Are you sure you do not wish for me to send you on the path to Paradise? ...I see. Well, I am the last person who would try and get in the way of your playtime. ...Yes, please do. Ah, but if you don¡¯t mind, Kaila, if you happen to encounter a spirit by the name of Nigeman, could you escort him to see me? ...Perhaps. We will have to see if he is also a rude guest, now won¡¯t we?¡±

    The small presence departed from the room like it was soaring on the wings of happiness, leaving Faberjeene alone with his half mauled, but otherwise unmarred servant. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind, ¡®Francois,¡¯ could you clean up a little before Kaila returns? I would not want this Nigeman to see the chamber in shambles.¡±

    The servant pulled a cleaning cloth from it¡¯s inner breast pocket and began wiping away at drops of moisture and soot stains wordlessly, the rending across it¡¯s back not bothering or hampering it at all.

    ¡°Thank you. Well, let us hope the second witness corroborates the first. For if he does, I may have just found our new, and quite fascinating, Demon King. And, just maybe, the person that can be used to destroy the Elven Kingdom.¡±

 Chapter 29: Departures | Arrivals

    The silence of the night surrounding the camp was unbroken except for the occasional rustle of the restless wildlife that was more curious about the travelers camp than they were cautious of the campfire at the outskirt. Other than those meager presences were the snores of the former soldiers sealed inside their tiny tents and the crackling of the campfire that Gina sat with her back to.

    It was an old sentry trick, keeping your back to the fire. It allowed the light to fall on everything around you while preserving as much of one¡¯s night site as possible by not looking into the flames. Gina also enjoyed the feeling of the fire¡¯s warmth on her exposed tail, but night sight was far more important. Gina had perfected the habit of not looking into a fire while she was on night watches. But she¡¯d recently formed a bad habit on those watches as well.

    Gina toyed with the wooden bracelet that she¡¯d been given by the boss, Xander. Her hand rested on her knee at just the right angle to catch the campfire light as it passed her sitting form to illuminate the wooden gift. The features of the bracelet caught and danced in the light, the smoothed surface and contrasting colors creating a light-show of unexpected beauty. It was a visual stimulation unmatched for a common woman in a world without television. But only the upper parts of Gina¡¯s mental processes were engaged. The rest mulled ceaselessly and without progress in the back of her mind.

    ¡°Mind a little company,¡± inquired the voice behind Gina.

    Gina¡¯s empty left hand almost went for her service dagger, a broader and stumpier version of the ones issued to regular foot soldiers in the Fulchan military, but her mind recognized the voice before her body moved towards violence. The recognition was not a comfort, and only agitated her further. Gina quickly hid the bracelet and said, annoyed, ¡°Why are you here, Dellon? You¡¯re suppose to be watching the road on the other side of the camp.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t say that, Gina,¡± came Dellon¡¯s, ¡®I¡¯m gonna charm my way out of trouble¡¯ voice that everyone in the unit knew. And it annoyed Gina that the voice still often worked. ¡°I was getting lonely. It¡¯s all quiet on that end of camp, anyway, so I thought I¡¯d try to wake myself back up by having a chat with a beauty.¡±

    Gina waited for the punchline of, ¡®have you seen one around¡¯ that never landed. While Gina was better looking than average, as she was very glad about, she knew she was not a beauty. Most of her looks came from the grace of retained youth and a balance between her features. She had large and expressive jade green eyes and decent cheekbones that balanced well with her wide jaw to leave an impression that could be more accurately described as a mature cuteness than beauty. Gina¡¯s short and somewhat rounded haircut increased her cuteness as well. But when time started taking hold of her features, Gina would be a mere Handsome Woman, while someone with features like Aase would be an Aging Beauty. Gina was all too aware of her own shortcomings to be strung along by a flatterer like Dellon. Though, like previously stated, Gina was annoyed that she couldn¡¯t just outright ignore him either.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather you not try to distract me, Dellon. Watch guard is important work,¡± stated Gina, trying to brush the man off.

    ¡°Not if nothing happens,¡± retorted Dellon as he sat down uninvited on the old log Gina had been sitting on and that the campfire had been built close to. Pre-cleared and maintained campsites like the one they were using for the night existed all up and down the main highways of Fulchas, and probably all the nations of the world, and were mostly safe. But that didn¡¯t mean they were absolutely safe. Dellon¡¯s complete disregard for his assigned job annoyed Gina as much as his proximity, since he¡¯d sat right next to Gina on purpose. Gina shuffled over on the log to get some distance.

    Dellon didn¡¯t say anything else for a moment and made a show of rubbing and warming his hands against the fire very loudly. Gina purposely didn¡¯t look more than a little over at him to avoid having her eyes dazzled by light. Gina was watching the forest side of the camp, so being able to see was important. As was remaining at her post. And there Dellon was, very obviously making a show of warming his hands to emphasis his presence. Finally, Gina said, ¡°Would you please go back to your post, Dellon? I¡¯d rather you not distract me.¡±

    ¡°Heh. You don¡¯t really need my help to be distracted, Gina. You¡¯re doing a fine job of it on your own.¡±

    Gina¡¯s tail curled in annoyance. ¡°And what¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°Nothin'', except that I could see you playing with that bangle that the Boss gave you from clear across the camp.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not playing with it,¡± exclaimed Gina softly, so as to not disturb the sleepers around them. Then corrected herself. ¡°I mean- you shouldn¡¯t have been looking my way in the first place.¡±

    Without a beat, Dellon instantly replied, ¡°Well, you¡¯ve got such a nice ass that I can¡¯t help but take a peek now and then.¡±

    Well, Gina had to agree she had a nice ass. It was her best feature in her opinion, combined with her slim waist. It sure as heck wasn¡¯t her typical sized chest after all. But even then¡­

    ¡°Like I said, you shouldn¡¯t be looking.¡±

    ¡°Why not? You¡¯ve been flaunting your ass for a while now, ever since we left Rogert.¡±

    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Started around the time the Boss gave you the bangle. And, oddly enough, only when the Boss was around.¡±

    ¡°No. I haven¡¯t,¡± stated Gina emphatically. Though she knew it was a full out lie. I mean, Gina¡¯s ass was her best feature and Xander hadn¡¯t even noticed it until is was right in his face. It was a wound to a woman¡¯s pride. And Gina, she only wanted to know if her can was still worth being noticed. ¡°And- I don¡¯t have anything to do with the Boss, either.¡±

    ¡°But is that by choice?¡±

    That got Gina to reflexively turn towards Dellon, her voice accusatory, ¡°What is-¡± then on getting a bit of glare from the fire, Gina turned right back to looking at the forest. But continued on without losing the venom in her voice. ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°Just that I enjoy looking at the ladies of our unit. Keeps a man sane between leaves of absence. And I¡¯ve noticed something new in you, Gina. You¡¯re watching the Boss a lot more than you¡¯ve ever watched any other man in the unit.¡±

    ¡°Bull.¡±

    ¡°Goddess¡¯ truth, Gina. And you¡¯re watching him in a different way to any of the guys I¡¯ve seen you pick up at bars. Or tricked into picking you up. How do women do that anyway? Is that a trick that can be taught? Cause it¡¯d save me so much time, getting women to pursue me.¡±

    Not wanting to go down Dellon¡¯s train of thought, Gina instead decided to clear up the misunderstanding. ¡°I am not. Into Xander.¡±

    ¡°Well, there¡¯s something with you about him. And I sure as hell don¡¯t know what.¡±

    ¡°There is nothing with him.¡±

    ¡°Then why do you still have that bangle he gave you,¡± asked Dellon, indicating the bracelet Gina had hurriedly tucked into a pocket of her travel trousers.

    ¡°It¡¯s a bracelet,¡± corrected Gina, not knowing what a ¡®bangle¡¯ was. And instantly regretted saying it instead of denying Dellon¡¯s words outright. Dellon kinda verbally rolled his eyes with the word, ¡°Yeah,¡± and then continued with, ¡°But why do you still have it?¡±

    ¡°It¡­ was a gift.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen what you do with gifts from guys, Gina. I don¡¯t think a one made it more than two days before you junked it. What¡¯s so special about that one?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s-¡±

    That¡¯s what Gina would like to know. She couldn¡¯t say the words, though. It was true that she¡¯d gotten gifts from guys before. Guys that were trying to bed her. Guys that were trying to cling on after she¡¯d bedded them. Always some shitty little gift. A drink in a bar. A flower or two. Occasionally some accessory to be worn, but always something cheap and picked up because it only looked nice in the display. Every gift she¡¯d received, the guy giving it to her would watch her face, waiting for the reaction of joy and gratitude before trying for gratitude sex. Gina learned to fake those emotions after the second or third time it happened in her life, letting the guys move on with their ¡°seduction technique¡± before sidestepping it or, if she was in the mood, pretending to fall for it.

    But none of the gifts held any meaning. They were all things that guys thought women in general enjoyed. Gina was so use to the dance after four years of experience¡­ that she had seriously not seen Xander¡¯s gift coming.

    Xander had not been studying Gina¡¯s face at any point of his gift giving. There was no obvious expectations for gratitude, or even smarmy self satisfaction in giving a woman a gift. He was just¡­ being nice. Gina had never been given a gift like that before. It bothered her.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± asked Dellon after Gina¡¯s lengthy pause.

    ¡°I don¡¯t-¡±

    Gina didn¡¯t know how to react to being given a gift that had no underlying intentions behind it, especially one that the giver had put real thought behind. Xander had gotten it because it went well with Gina¡¯s hair. A real feature, unique to her. Real thought. Real consideration. Not even the gift that Reilly had given Gina back at the orphanage, that cheap brass ring, had held so much consideration for her. His proposal of marriage was little more than an attempt to bind her to him than to really be about making Gina a bride. An attempt to get Gina to give up on joining the military and keep her close. In the end, Reilly¡¯s proposal was just a good opportunity for Gina to abandon her virginity.

    ¡°What,¡± asked Dellon after the next pause.

    ¡°I just-¡±

    Gina just couldn¡¯t figure Xander out. He was a guy that didn¡¯t hesitate to kill people even without military training, then beat the living shit out of her unit, then started treating them like his own precious people, got beat up for going out of his way to help a pair of old shopkeepers and then crushing a criminal organization while picking out the most meaningful and well intentioned gift Gina had ever received in her life without having been attracted to her in the slightest! How the hell was a girl suppose to figure that out?! What, is it because he was an otherworlder? Was that it? Was Gina not attractive to him because of that? Because he sure as hell was taking glances at Aase. But, that couldn¡¯t be it, because Gina had caught him sneaking looks at her ass after setting him up for them since Rogert. But whenever she trapped him into those sneaking peaks and turned to look at him, his eyes just lifted up to meet Gina¡¯s gaze and moved right on! No embarrassment at all! What, was Gina too old for him, not young and blooming like Aase? But Gina was still at least a year younger than Xander, but was that not enough?

    But Xander got on well with Daphne, too! And she was definitely older than Gina! And Mercy was also older than Gina, but Xander had snuck a look or two at her, too, but she¡¯d got a nice rack! Is that it? Was a nice ass not good enough for him, was he into tits? Well if so, Gina had news for him, since big tits only sagged and got in the way! Gina would probably be dead already if she¡¯d had tits instead of breasts, you know! Even if having a nice rack could turn men¡¯s heads more easily, it doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯d want them, especially if Xander was into them! But it would make it easier to know what that asshole was thinking inside that constantly spaced out head of his to make it easier to turn him down like every other son of a bitch in the world which he most definitely WAS!

    ¡°Gina? Hello?¡±

    ¡°Oh, shut up,¡± snapped Gina, standing up straight before saying, while already tromping away, ¡°If you¡¯re not gonna go back to your post, I¡¯ll take it over myself.¡±

    As Gina stomped angrily through the camp towards the other watch post, Dellon bemusedly pulled a hip flask out from a pocket, toasted, ¡°To women,¡± and took a quick pull from it before seriously getting back to his watch duty.

    Some time after her blow up, Gina¡¯s anger had subsided and she was left feeling confused and miserable while playing with the bracelet in her hands before releasing a breath in a sigh, to follow up with the quietly muttered words, ¡°If there¡¯s a more pathetic woman in the world than me, I¡¯d like to meet her.¡±

    * * * * *

    Mercedes was lying on her back in her sleeping tent, carefully studying the vial with the earth soaked in Xander¡¯s blood in it for the nth time. Mercedes had illuminated the inside of the tent with a gentle light spell to reflect the details of the soiled soil sample. And just like every time she studied the sample, Mercedes was viewing it with magic being supplied to her eyes. The side effect of the use of her inborn physical feature was causing one of her brown eyes to discolor towards the blue end of the color spectrum, and the other toward the red. The effect could be slight or very obvious depending on how much of her magic she used, on how much ambient detail she wanted to record in her mind from the sights in front of her, but the effect was generally the same. A picture perfect record of whatever it was she was looking at.

    That inborn gift was what had allowed her to do so well in her studies at so young an age. Because she could just record and recall any information she so chose. A lesser person may have just coasted on the ability through their life, but it only inspired Mercedes to study harder, to truly understand that which she could recall at will. And that devotion to knowledge was what allowed her the chance to study the summoning circle that the Goddess used to call heroes from other worlds!

    Mercedes¡¯ mind began to call up and replay the memories she¡¯d recorded of the summoning circle and transposed them over the image she was currently recording in her mind. Seeing one thing while also seeing another. The beauty of the Goddess created runes and lines and formations inspiring Mercedes all over again just like they had the first time, urging her on to try and create something so beautiful and magnificent all over again. Mercedes¡¯ mind wandered over to the recorded memories of the copious notes that Xander had burned in front of her. Truth be told, every single fragment of the paper that had been lit aflame that day had already been committed to Mercedes¡¯ memory. But Mercedes knew that it was not yet time to tell Xander that. Mercedes¡¯ summoning circle seemed to be a sore topic for Xander, and it may not be wise to tell him she had the ability to reproduce it should she be given the opportunity to do so.

    At least Mercedes intended to keep that a secret until the caravan stopped traveling. It would not do to inform Xander before Mercedes could get a replacement lab to work in. Maybe one with windows this time. Fresh sunlight would be nice while Mercedes recreated her lost research papers.

    But to get that research lab, Mercedes would need to earn Xander¡¯s trust. It seemed he didn¡¯t truly believe in the power of the Enslavement Collars to keep people honest. Maybe there was wiggle room in that compulsory loyalty that people could take advantage of, but not Mercedes. She would prove that to Xander, and get his approval, and a new lab where she could study him properly and improve upon her previous work. And the first step to all of that¡­ was making sure that Xander didn¡¯t get himself killed.

    That sickening image of Xander bleeding on the ground leapt back into Mercedes¡¯ mind, as real and vivid as the moment she¡¯d seen it. Looking at the dirt in the test tube always brought that moment back into mind sooner or later. But it was necessary. It was necessary because it had to be avoided. It re-resolved Mercedes to think up ways to be useful, relevant, and perhaps even endearing to Xander. Though precious few methods had occurred to Mercedes, aside from the obtainment of the data that diamonds could channel Xander¡¯s massive potential. And Aase¡¯s too, Mercedes supposed. But honestly, Aase was only the second to survive that summoning portal and was of far less value than Xander. A back up sample for whatever successes the circle had achieved.

    Besides, history only cared about the first to do something, not the second. And Xander was the first non-Goddess summoned human to cross the borders between worlds and survive! He would put Mercedes¡¯ name in the history books! Hmmm. But not if he got himself killed before it could happen. Which made increasing Xander¡¯s abilities all the more important because if he died, Mercedes would as well, ending the propagation of her research before it began. Once again making Xander more important to Mercedes¡¯ goals than Aase. But Xander liked Aase so she was important to be on good terms with. Perhaps strengthening Aase as well as Xander would be a good move for Mercedes? Something else to dwell upon sometime; Mercedes endearing herself to Xander by proxy.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    But Mercedes would still need to find a way to make Xander fond of her directly. Using proxies would only go so far. Perhaps if Mercedes observed the other women in the camp and made notes of how they become closer to the test subject? Then finding a common point and emulating it may prove beneficial for Mercedes as well? It was a theory worth looking into¡­

    Mercedes then spent the rest of her evening contemplating her own fragile mortality and the achievement of recreating an act of Goddess, visions of formulae and the original summoning circle dancing through her mind. And then she slept, and dreamed of the fantastical lab she would be able to convince Xander to build for her one day for the summoning of more heroes to Meaohr.

    * * * * *

    ¡°Once again, young man, my answer is no. I am very firmly retired,¡± stated the wire thin old man who was reclining in the cushioned chair of his expansive manor.

    The view from the window showed the back lawn of the estate, with small flower gardens dotted here and there with a riding stable in the distance, with several horses in excellent condition being led about and exercised by the staff of the estate. The building known as Brooks Hall was a fine stone and white brick exterior mansion of a very English countryside variety, as though it had been plucked from a period drama about the British nobility of the 19th century. And some of the great lattice paned windows shone light into the sitting room of the master of the estate, where he entertained a man from the church quite cordially, though completely against his will.

    ¡°Lord Brooks, please, I implore you reconsider. There is a new Demon King about that might bring about the end of the world. We are in desperate need of-¡±

    ¡°Pah! There¡¯s always a new Demon King this, or an uprising that, or a wild monster mucking about. You seriously don¡¯t need an old fart like myself cleaning up your messes, now do you? Ah, thank you, Jeffrey.¡±

    Lord Wilfried Brooks completely halted the conversation to grasp the offered cup of tea his butler brought in and took a delighted sip of the fresh brew. With obvious pleasure, Lord Brooks told his guest, ¡°Best you enjoy the tea fresh and fresh, lad. It¡¯s damnably bland once it¡¯s cooled.¡±

    The envoy from the church just kind of looked wonderingly on his host as the elderly British gentleman enjoyed his tea in silence, but for the light slurping of dangerously hot fluids. Inside the young man¡¯s head he freely wondered how such a thin, grey haired, wax mustached man with the strangely high cheekbones and completely random mannerisms could be the man widely hailed as the greatest hero in history. The envoy had been warned to expect a strange negotiation, but he just couldn¡¯t find a place to begin convincing the gentleman to end his retirement.

    ¡°Lord Brooks, you know full well that age is not an issue. With the current threat we face, the Elves would be willing to waive their restrictions and grant you youth once again.¡±

    ¡°HA,¡± exclaimed Lord Brooks, releasing absolute amusement and dismissal in a single loud syllable. ¡°You speak as though I would want such a thing!¡±

    ¡°But Lord Brooks, haven¡¯t you regained your youth twice already?¡±

    ¡°Well, let me tell you- what was your name again?¡±

    ¡°It was-¡±

    ¡°Youth is wasted on the young! Everyone knows that, but it¡¯s just as wasted on the elderly! No one learns from their mistakes, least of all myself. I stumbled through being a young buck three times already and I tell you, it¡¯s damn tiring to always find oneself standing at attention every time a lovely filly enters the room, if you know what I mean. Oh, yes, you do, you sad excuse for a priest. Do you have any idea how surprised I was that the church here actually encourages their priests to have so many wives? Debauchery all around! HA-HA!¡±

    *siiiiiiiiiip*

    The envoy¡¯s face twisted in silent confusion as the greatest of his negotiation points, renewed youth, the goal of every noble and ruler alike, was so lightly brushed aside. In that case¡­

    ¡°Lord Brooks, you would undoubtedly be handsomely rewarded by any, by every ruler in the world for your delivering us from this crisis! Anything you desire would be-¡±

    ¡°Desire! De-Sires! Those are for the young! All this old man de-sires is to be old, dusty, cranky, and left to mold in this countryside with his piles of wealth, massive estate, endless horse runs, and the best butler in the world serving the worst hogwash excuse for tea on the planet. I¡¯m only joshing you, Jeffrey, absolute magnificent brew, this. Magnificent!¡±

    ¡°My Lord,¡± bowed the butler from the side.

    *siiiiiiiiiip*

    The envoy was completely flustered by this point, and it showed.

    ¡°What of the people, Lord Brooks! They need you! They need their champion to see them through this time of need and darkness! Surely the needs of the people are important enough for you-¡±

    ¡°Let me tell you about the needs of the people, Father, um, um, what was your name again?¡±

    ¡°It was-¡±

    ¡°Serving the needs of the people is like going to your Jewish friend¡¯s dinner party! Excellent chap! Wonderful company! But you just know there¡¯s not going to be any soused hog¡¯s face on the dinner table, and that throws a pall over the whole affair!¡±

    *siiiiiiiiiip*

    The envoy had completely lost his patience by that point, and just started arguing instead of talking. ¡°Well, what are we supposed to do without the Hero? THE Hero? As in, only one! We need you if we¡¯re going to be able to fight whatever monster this Demon King turns out to be, Lord Brooks! What are we supposed to do if you just continue to selfishly waste away in the countryside?!¡±

    ¡°Oooooh, you¡¯ll be just fine, what-was-your-name,¡± Lord Brooks wasn¡¯t even pretending to ask at this point. ¡°Just have Lord and Lady Oren pluck some young hopefuls and train them up to-¡±

    ¡°Lord Oren is dead! He¡¯s not going to be plucking anything!¡±

    ¡°Dead,¡± asked Lord Brooks quietly, his entire manner changing. But the envoy was too impassioned to notice, and just continued on.

    ¡°Please, Lord Brooks! What we need is a Hero, even if it¡¯s just as a figurehead!¡±

    ¡°How did Lord Oren die?¡±

    ¡°No one, but THE Hero will do!¡±

    ¡°How did Lord Oren die,¡± asked Lord Brooks louder and more emphatically, his eyes sharp. The envoy barely calmed himself enough from the tone to be able to actually respond to the question, but not to understand its underlying importance.

    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know! Fighting some Heretics somewhere! More importantly, Lord Brooks, if I could at least just have-¡±

    ¡°Get out,¡± said the Lord of the Manor. As emphatically as before. But the envoy could no longer understand the importance of the words coming from the retired hero¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Not until I convince you to-¡±

    Lord Brook¡¯s form blurred for a moment before reappearing in front of the envoy, hand wrapped around the priest¡¯s throat, choking the man into silent gasps and gurgles. Lord Brooks'' eyes were no longer jovial, playful, or even rational. The greyish blue eyes of the British Lord who became the hero of another world only had a cold killing edge to them as he stated as sharply as a blade, ¡°Get out before I tear you to pieces!¡±

    From behind him, bent forward in a lunge for his life, holding the very edge of the saucer of the cup of tea his Lord had dropped before it impacted with and scattered all over the carpet called the butler, Jeffrey, with, ¡°My Lord, please remember your blood pressure.¡±

    Lord Brooks stiffened a little, then relaxed his grip on the envoy¡¯s throat, turned, and began his exit from the room while saying, in a poor attempt to recreate his prior jovial attitude, ¡°Jeffrey, please see our guest out.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my Lord.¡±

    It was some minutes later when Jeffrey entered the study where Lord Brooks was silently looking out over the meadows and gardens, from a rigid at ease posture that no amount of living could break him from taking. Jeffrey made no sound and merely waited for his Lord to say or do something. That alone was apparently enough, as shortly, Lord Brooks said, ¡°Quite right of you to seat that obtuse fellow in the leather chair. If he¡¯d sat on the sofa, it¡¯d need reupholstering.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lord Brooks.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d think a man could hold his bladder on becoming an adult, wouldn¡¯t you, Jeffrey?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Lord Brooks.¡±

    ¡°Jeffrey. Why do you put up with a cranky old bastard like me?¡±

    ¡°Because I and my entire family line owe their entire existence to you, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a pretty poor reason to put up with me, now isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°I agree, my Lord.¡±

    Jeffrey¡¯s deadpan response finally triggered something like a smirk on Lord Brooks¡¯ gaunt face. He finally turned and told his servant, ¡°Would you mind notifying the stable lad that I¡¯ll have some letters for him to take to the church? Ah, the local one, not the big one in town, no need for the lad to run himself ragged. A little over eager, that one, eh?¡±

    ¡°As you say, my Lord.¡±

    Jeffrey bowed, then departed the room, leaving Lord Brooks to sit at the desk and begin writing two letters. The first of condolence.

    My dearest Marisa.

    I have only just learned the news of Hector¡¯s demise. While I was unable to get any details due to the lack of intelligence the unwitting messenger possessed, I can only imagine his final fate as being one of great bravery and his attempt to overcome insurmountable odds. And succeeding. If it is otherwise, I pray that you do not tell me, and merely allow me the fantasy of a senile old man.

    I do apologize for not communicating with the two of you before now, since my retirement proper. Hiding myself away was something of the point, but only now do I see the folly of such an act, having left you without an extra shoulder in this time of loss. I know how painful such a time is, and my heart goes out to you. And hopefully soon, my shoulder as well. I refuse to come out of retirement, for the idea of prolonged life, and thus, continued separation from my own dearly departed Hannah and Reya, is unbearable. But perhaps these old bones can perform one final act of good in this world, as a tribute to the kindness you and Hector have shown a decidedly unpleasant grump like myself.

    I hope to see you soon, so please prepare some decent tea for Jeffrey to brew.

    With appropriate affection,

    Wilfried

    The second letter was to a far less important person.

    To His Holiest Raul,

    I will not come out of retirement, and that is final. No matter how many jumped up young turds you fling at my doors. I understand that you need a hero. But you do not need this hero. I suggest a compromise. If your Goddess should allow it, go ahead and summon a new hero. Should the ritual succeed, I shall personally train the young hopeful until he is ready to face whatever disaster is looming on the horizon.

    Should the ritual not succeed? Well, we¡¯ll talk then. In the meantime, I have business of my own to attend to.

    My best wishes in running the entire religion of the world,

    Lord Wilfried Brooks

    * * * * *

    ¡°What are you doing,¡± asked Callic in his usual icky tone of voice when I was doing something brilliant that his tiny brain couldn¡¯t process. Jesus, it¡¯s not enough that I had to do physical reinforcement practice early in the morning, but I needed his idiocy as well?

    ¡°What does it look like I¡¯m doing,¡± I grunted through the exertion.

    ¡°It looks like you¡¯re laying an egg,¡± responded Callic the dog boy.

    ¡°Well, Callic, it¡¯s called the Horse Stance.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Why the hell¡¯r you doing that instead of the sword drills I assigned you to?¡±

    I cocked my head to look up at Callic properly from my position with my knees bent and my pelvis tucked in. I wanted to look Callic straight in the eyes as I told him, ¡°Because your sword drills are stupid, and they¡¯re wasting my damn time. I don¡¯t fight with a fucking sword, Callic. I use a spear, and knowing how to channel my magic into a sword swing is just plain bullshit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the starting point for your training, jackass,¡± replied Callic, unable to put as much annoyance into his response as I did since he wasn¡¯t experiencing searing pain in his muscles like me.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a stupid starting point. I¡¯ve been doing this for ten minutes and I¡¯ve already learned more about channeling reinforcement magic through my whole body than all of your stupid drills combined!¡±

    I gasped then. Crap, I talked too much, I was going to get winded at this rate. I gulped down some air greedily, and tried to ignore Callic. The exertion of getting back into my focus was causing the hands I held rigidly palm downward at my hips to shudder.

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± said Callic in full rejection, but with that tiny grain of curiosity coloring the word.

    A slow smile crept up on me as I looked up again and asked, ¡°Wanna give it a try and prove me wrong?¡±

    Three minutes later, and-

    ¡°My entire body is on fire!!!¡±

    -Callic called out.

    ¡°You can quit any time you want, Callic. It would make you less of a man, but you would be done.¡±

    Callic ended up lasting another minute before toppling over. Gotta say, it was a good first attempt. After gathering his strength, Callic said, ¡°Okay, I can see how that could be considered training, even if it looks like you¡¯re laying an egg.¡±

    ¡°Especially if it looks like I¡¯m laying an egg, Callic. That how you know you have the right posture. You wanna try it again?¡±

    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m good! You can, uh, keep doing that if it helps you. I have no idea how, but apparently it does.¡±

    It really did help. By doing the horse stance I had constant exertion going on instead of intermittent, and I could feel the effect of different flows of magic through my body and the effects on my muscles at the same time. It was great for path regulation and junk. I wasn¡¯t ready for melee combat in this world against knights and monsters just yet, but it felt like I was starting to get somewhere. I just needed a good weapon next.

    Maybe Arsktun would have something worth using. But the weapon would have to wait. I needed to sell gemstones, get more clothing, resupply on the specialty food items Lloyd and Nina Brenct, our Chefs, and the water mage Clarissa wanted for cooking (why a water mage was spending so much time cooking, I had no idea), wagon repairs, or even new fucking wagons, period, give the soldiers time to relax, masturbate (at long last), and maybe take a decent fucking bath¡­

    There was just a whole host of things to do in town. Since it was a trade town and was important economically and militarily, I could only hope it was better run than Rogert. And there was one other other thing I wanted to do while I was there.

    The limitations of a bunch of soldiers, a mad scientist, and a couple of cooks had been slowly becoming far more clear to me. On Earth, travelling bands and military in the dark ages had camp followers. Civilians who helped the soldiers with all the quality of life jobs they couldn¡¯t do on their own. That role had largely been phased out in the modern era thanks to air drops and quality supply routes, but none of that shit existed in Meaohr. We only had what we hauled with us.

    So I was actually looking forward to visiting the slave markets and seeing what I could buy. Why pay a large lump sum to add extra mouths to the caravan when I could hire people from any town I passed through? Because I¡¯m not about to trust any Tom, Dick, or Harry with potentially deadly information about me and my caravan without the assurance of a slavery curse that will burn their heart out of them if they try and stab me in the back for profit. Hell. Even if they didn¡¯t learn our secrets, there¡¯s no guarantee they wouldn¡¯t stay only long enough to nab our gemstones and run for the hills.

    No. Magically enforced loyalty was the way to go in my situation.

    ...And besides, there might be some super hot woman I could buy to be my personal sex slave. Hey, don¡¯t judge me! I¡¯d be saving her from a life of prostitution to be my personal¡­ okay, yeah, maybe judge me a little. Meh, I¡¯ll just play it by ear.

    But no matter what, the caravan would be reaching Arsktun tomorrow and I¡¯ll start dealing with all the caravan¡¯s various needs as they arise. Then we¡¯ll cross the border, and hey, we¡¯ll be in a fine position to escape the grasps of whatever shadowy conspiracy I¡¯ve become involved in against my will. I¡¯ll disappear into Fehkaahl, or use it as a springboard to disappear into another nation and live happily ever after by abusing my authority over a bunch of accomplices to extra dimensional abduction and murder to live the easy life.

    Things are looking up!

    ¡­

    Did I just jinx it? Heh, no way.

    * * * * *

    The incense hung heavily in the Cathedral of Passage as a hundred priests of great magical talent stood on the outer ring of the Goddess¡¯ summoning circle, with two hundred guards about them inside the chamber alone. Not only was His Holiest present leading the ritual, but should the ritual be a success, there would be a new hero in need of protection until they were strong enough to stand on their own. Which meant the next few hours were the most vulnerable of The Faith¡¯s in recent memory.

    Though the term used for the process was ¡°ritual,¡± the priests had nothing to do but channel their magic into the circle. Even the number of priests was unimportant, as more or fewer would make no difference except in how quickly their strength waned in feeding their magic into the circle for the Goddess to use. The only one who had an unquestionable purpose on the site was His Holiest Raul, who led a prayer to the Goddess for the advent of a new hero. His voice would continue his solemn requests to the Goddess until he either collapsed or his prayers were answered. And if he collapsed, he would have to continue the ritual every day for a full week of ten days before the pronouncing of a failure. It had been known to happen before, when there was either no one who was suitable to be a hero, or there was no need for one.

    It was all up to the Goddess to decide. And the ritual continued on in solemn nervousness. And it was only half a day later that an answer was delivered.

    The carved seals of the circle had previously glowed a dull blue before, but suddenly they lit up. Every man and woman present in the chamber felt a great pull of magical power from their bodies, and then felt the pull of the mana in the air as it rushed into the circle. And then a power met it from above. The great spell circle glowed and a pillar of bright blue light encapsulated all the space between the floor and the reinforced ceiling, great and wide. The pillar began to swiftly shrink in diameter, but not in height, until there was only a slim pillar the width of a human reaching from floor to ceiling. The disturbance to the air diminished, and for what felt like an eternity the thin pillar remained in place.

    In reality though, it was only there long enough for His Holiest Raul to slowly stride to the foot of the pillar before a blur of darkness in the vague shape of a person was seen at the top of the pillar of light and slowly descended to the ground. When the shape touched land, the brightness slowly began to subside until the figure of their new savior appeared.

    His Holiest slowly took one step back, bowed his head, and said in his deep and resonant voice, with the utmost sincerity, ¡°Welcome to Meaohr, honored Traveller.¡±

    <h3 style="text-align: center">End of Book 1: Unwelcome