ã€ŠBorrowed Timeã€‹


 Prologue - Out in Nowhere

    Indents

    Once upon a time, there was a lonely black cell, trapped in a lonely space, filled with lonely people. One of those was a man¡ªno, not a man. A legend; a savior; a destroyer; a teacher; a deceiver; a prophet; a devil; a human¡ªhe was all, and more. He sat in his cell, blood covering his fair features. He did not sit alone, however. His neighbor was far more ordinary than he was: a child, no, a human child. Tufts of gentle brown hair sat crowned him for what he was¡ªutterly normal. The man laughed; a mad, hysterical laugh; a laugh of a man who had seen far more than he was ever intended to.

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    ¡°It seems we will be here for a while. Listen, then, my child. Listen, for a story I have, and what a story it is. Listen carefully, for time is not unlimited.¡± At this, the child seemed delighted, but even his adolescent mind could sense the implied meaning. He quickly became sad. The man noticed, yet only laughed more. ¡°Will I die here? No, no, my child. I will not die. I will finish, and I will continue. Do not worry. Time is still our ally.¡±

 Arrival

    Indents, woo~

    Rory en Lamadu awoke with the sun¡¯s sharp glare in his eyes. His senses soon began to return; notably, his sense of touch. The bed sheet he was sleeping under was not the soft nylons of his apartment but a rough, unfamiliar texture¡ªif he had to, he would label it as the potato sacks of old. A quick glance around the room told him that the rest of the room was in no better shape than his beddings; dark, muddy brick surrounded him, coupled with a dirt floor. The sun came from a small hole located a few meters above him, and a hole it was; no glass stood between.

    He was utterly confused. His last moments were spent in a pristine white laboratory, one of the few bastions humanity still owned. Now, he was stuck in what seemed to be medieval pit; a greater transition could not be made. He suddenly realized the terrible heat he was in¡ªnot even in field experiments had he endured this level of temperature. Perhaps it was the humidity, but Rory cared not. He brought his wrist up, moving to wipe the sweat off his forehead, when a searing pain attacked him. Shocked, he brought his wrist down. That was when he noticed it. Locked around his wrist was white rectangular box. Compared to his mangy surroundings, it seemed unreal¡ªa piece of fiction. Yet, he knew what it was. He knew now¡ªhe remembered everything.

    ¡°Rory, we¡¯re almost done calibrating it. Wanna go for a test?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not happening.¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon, they do it all the time.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not normal. God knows what happens when you use it. Maybe you¡¯ll get teleported to a volcano or something.¡±

    Rory was but a child¡ªfourteen years of age. And yet, he was not in school. No, humanity could no longer wait for their children to go to school. At the brink of destruction, they needed all the bright minds they could muster. And so, children were picked out at birth, sent to private academies, and then set out as scientist, engineers, and military commanders. But intelligence is not wisdom, and so, these children were not given free reign. Their minds would be carefully used by mentors; experts at their respective fields; experienced enough to make wise, and not just intelligent, decisions.

    Rory¡¯s mentor, the admirable Professor Isaac, brought it forward. It was a piece of technology reverse-engineered from them. Them, who crushed every single military operation the Human Alliance had sent out, and it was one of the reasons why. It, nicknamed Chronos by the Greek-loving researchers who found it, allowed the user to stop time. It was not an unlimited power, however. You could only stop as much time as you sacrificed¡ªindeed, to use the device, one must spend time.  Where? They didn¡¯t know. The user would disappear until the inputted amount of time pasted, and then they would pop back, the device being ¡°charged¡± for that much time.

    ¡°Maybe with this, we¡¯ll finally be able to fight back.¡±

    ¡°Sure, once we reverse-engineer every other piece of infallible technology they have.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be a downer.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a downer, I¡¯m a realist¡ª¡± Rory would not be able to finish his complaint, however. He was interrupted by a massive explosion; not the kind that went ¡°boom¡±, but the kind that went ¡°vrrrrrrmmm¡±. Humanity affectionately nicknamed this phenomenon the ¡°Cosmic Vacuum Cleaner¡±, and it signified only one thing: they were invading. Rory could see Elli, full name Elliwyn, the coworker whom he had set his affections upon¡ªa one sided affair, as Rory¡¯s friends loved to tell him¡ªcome running towards them.

    ¡°They¡¯re here, go, go!¡±

    ¡°Go where!? This is a goddamn dead-end!¡± At this, Elli blushed¡ªapparently she had not thought that far.

    ¡°Then hide or something¡ª¡± She was unable to finish her thought, as the bottom half of her torso disappeared, blood rushing everywhere. Rory was still shell-shocked, being the youngest, but Isaac had, in the back of his mind, always predicted this would happen. He held a sinister smile.

    ¡°They want to kill all of us, huh? Well, fuck them.¡± He grabbed Chronos, bound it across an unsuspecting Rory, and typed a few numbers in the panel below its solid white body. ¡°Live, Rory, live you fucker.¡±

    Rory now noticed his mentor¡¯s scheme; he did not input a couple hours, nor a few hours, and indeed not a lot of hours either; no, he input 3.5 E 6.

    ¡°What the hell are you¡ª¡± he interjected, his vision growing hazy, but not so hazy as to miss his dear professor¡¯s head disappear, deconstructed at the atomic level.

    3.5 E 6 hours, huh? Some quick mental math told him that he had been out for around four hundred years. Four Hundred Years. And this was what human civilization looked like? He sighed. It all went wrong with that damned Mars Colonization program. We never should¡¯ve. But how could we know? How could we possibly know about that damned tablet, about those damned messages, about that damned species? And here we are, from the rulers of the Earth¡ªconquerors of disease, of nature¡ªto a bunch of dirty rats squabbling in the dirt, to be laughed at in history classes.

    In the midst of Rory¡¯s angst, a pretty face appeared through the door¡ªwell, more of an opening than a door. A gentle, lovely face, adorned with an even lovelier smile, the dirt and dust streaked across seemingly only adding to the rustic beauty. Long brown hair adorned that face, crusty and rough from maltreatment. She spoke words, but it seemed only gibberish to Rory¡¯s ears. He stared at her blankly. Realizing his confusion, she laughed awkwardly, scratching her head, and walked into the room. She pointed at herself, said something to effect of ¡°Loria¡±, and then pointed at him. My name?

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    ¡°Rory. Rory en Lamadu. Researcher.¡± He added the last part for himself; no doubt she had no idea what a researcher even was.

    She pointed at him in a way he found strangely cute, and said, ¡°Rory?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, pointing at himself, ¡°Rory.¡±

    ¡°Rory!¡± she exclaimed, clapping. Does she think I¡¯m five? She then pointed out the door, making exaggerated eating motions. Food? Well, he¡¯ll have to eat eventually. He still had no idea where he actually was. He began to sit up, testing his muscles¡ªstill fine. No atrophy after four hundred years. Good. Taking a look at himself, he noticed that he was wearing a raggedy white tunic together with a pair of oversized trousers; no signs of his khakis, or his dress shirt, or his lab coat.

    As he walked outside his little room, he noticed a myriad of children sitting at a makeshift table¡ªat least six, ranging in age from what looked like four to fifteen, all dressed as he was. This must be an orphanage. Must¡¯ve gotten picked up by them after I reappeared. It¡¯s only natural, I suppose. I am fourteen; four hundred and fourteen now. Loria pointed at one of the seats, motioning for him to sit. In front of him lay breakfast: a wooden bowl filled with what looked like porridge. Somehow, it didn¡¯t exactly excite his appetite. Nor was he hungry. Four hundred year fast¡ªshould probably be a world record. Still, she had apparently rescued him. Left alone in the wilderness, he very well could¡¯ve died. It would be rude to outright reject, so he bitterly brought the spoon down. It tastes like nothing.

    After finishing his meal, he motioned towards the outside¡ªthere was something he needed to check. Loria looked unsure of herself, but realizing that he should be one of the ¡°big kids¡±, suddenly smiled and gave him a thumbs up. I¡¯m glad that human communication hasn¡¯t changed that much. Walking outside, he looked at the sun. Holding his hand up and counting the distance the sun was from the horizon, he estimated that it was around 8 o¡¯ clock. He then looked down at his wrist; Chronos had the much more mundane function of telling time. It was set at GMT-0, and so, with some subtraction he could calculate the time-zone and thereby location he was currently in. GMT+1¡ªsounds about right. He was still in Europe. He began to eye Chronos more seriously. I should test it out. It¡¯s not like there¡¯s much to lose; he had already lost everything, though everything was not much.

    The procedure to stop time is far more convenient than to lose time; only natural, as the model they found was designed for military use. All you had to do was slam the cube down and hope you don¡¯t cut yourself in the process¡ªthey had never gotten around to sanding it, either. He pressed down, gently at first, and then putting in more and more force until the cube depressed with a satisfying click. Sound began to distort in his ears, before quieting entirely.

    He looked inside¡ªno one was moving. He reached down, grabbing a handful of dirt and releasing it midair. It stayed, unmoving from where he left it. The entire world had stopped. How convenient. He decided to take a stroll through the city¡ªhe had the time, after all; four hundred years of time.

    He walked, and walked, through a frozen glimpse of the city¡¯s daily life. He could see men, commuting towards their jobs; women, hanging clothes outside their window; merchants, dragging their wares along. He could see beggars, he could see prostitutes. Whatever he could see, however, excluding the passersby¡¯s, was covered in drudgery¡ªevidently he was not in the rich part of town. As he continued to move, he began to reconstruct a theory on the apparent fate of humanity after his departure. First, they had not fully wiped out humanity. Intentionally, for else this pocket of monkeys would not exist. Second, they advanced human development. Four hundred years is not enough time for humans to learn to farm, to build, to innovate. Third, they did this for entertainment; it¡¯s like a kid pouring water into his ant farm when they get too big.

    That last point enraged him the most. For millennia humans have been the de facto rulers of their known space¡ªthey beat nature, they beat disease, they beat their own psyche, and now they¡¯re just some toy? No, no¡­ He wouldn¡¯t let them. They¡¯ll be back, no doubt. They¡¯ll be back to check on their ant farm. Well, when they do, they¡¯ll find the ant¡¯s armed to the damn teeth. He looked around him. You bunch of damn monkeys¡ªI¡¯m going to arm you, I¡¯m going to teach you, I¡¯m going to lead you. Because fuck them.

    He walked in front of a cart-driver, staring him down. How many children have you beaten? How many slaves do you own? How many peasants have you abused? I don¡¯t care. But the cart-driver soon began to care; Rory felt Chronos growing hotter, sound once again distorting. At once, he felt searing pain spread across his torso as the cart slammed into him. He fell to the side, scrunched over in pain. He looked over for help, but only received a passing look of curiosity and a kick to the side, his vision beginning to blacken.

 Loria

    Indents, man.

    Loria had been out on one of her foraging trips when he saw him: a boy, dressed in peculiar clothes, lying in the field. He had no wounds to speak of, but it was clear that he was not sleeping there naturally. She gently nudged him, trying to wake him up, but he gave no response. How strange; was he abandoned? Where did he come from? Perhaps the most peculiar part was his clothes; fine, strangely smooth, and yet pliable. When she was young¡ªwell, she was still young, only a lass of around seventeen¡ªher mother had, at one point, a dress of fine silk. His clothes felt similar, but not quite like it. They were, unfortunately, horrifically ripped. Well, in any case, she wasn¡¯t about to leave a child out in the wilderness; that wasn¡¯t what her mother would do, and it¡¯s certainly not what she would do.

    From Gilsi¡¯s apothecary, cross a street, down a corner, and you would find yourself at the residence of the Mera¡¯s. Loria¡¯s mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother have, at one point, owned this mangy, decaying building. Now, it lies under the sole ownership of Loria, and continues to protect the many orphans of Baydale, the capitol of the mighty kingdom Adringum. Here, Loria had brought the boy she had found. She judged that the noise and clutter which presided over where the other orphans slept would only serve to disturb him, and so placed him in her room. She had gone out to a seamstress to try and repair his clothing, but the seamstress had refused, saying that she didn¡¯t have enough experience with the fabric. Reluctantly, she sold them to the Textile Guild, who were interested in its strange properties. She hated the idea of selling someone¡¯s belongings while they were unaware, but she needed money, and honestly, they were unusable anyways. She would be sure to apologize afterwards.

    Later, when she had gone to check on him, she had found him already awoken. She greeted him, but he only looked at her in confusion. He must not speak common; the question was if he simply spoke another language or if he could not speak at all. She then asked for his name, and he replied with a string of words. He  can speak. She noticed that ¡°Rory¡± was repeated a few times. That must be his name. When prompted, he again replied with ¡°Rory¡±, indicating that her guess was correct.

    After breakfast, Rory gestured towards the outside. At first, she was hesitant; he couldn¡¯t even speak common, after all. But he looked old enough, and she shouldn¡¯t be overly controlling, so she prompted for him to go. Outside, he looked at the sun, moving his hands in a bizarre way, then stared intently at a strange device attached to his wrist. She turned her gaze elsewhere, one of the kids having scalded themselves. When she looked back, he was gone.

    After a while, she began to worry. He hadn¡¯t come back for a little while now. She ordered two of the older kids, a pair of siblings, to watch over the kids and went out looking for him. He couldn¡¯t have gotten far, but she had no luck finding him in the immediate area. She grew more and more anxious, as she went farther and farther. Finally, she found him, slumped over, bleeding; left to die on the street corner. His wounds were not trivial; severe lacerations on both chest and arms and swelling on his forehead.  It would be unlikely for him to recover on his own¡ªhe needed a Doctor. The problem was money: physicians were expensive, a luxury for people of her stature. Most peasants went to the Wise Women, but she knew they were shams.

    Money, money, money¡ªeverything needs money. Right now, she still had money; money she had received from selling his old clothes. Enough money to pay for a week¡¯s worth of food; money that she was planned to use to pay back the interest on her debt. But if she did not pay, then no doubt he will die. Her mother had taught her from an early age a principle she still upholds today: human lives are priceless. She would not break it now. There was no time to lose; she quickly began to awkwardly slide his limp body over her back, shuffling towards the local physician.

    Rory had been at the orphanage for a little over a month now. He began to adjust to his new surroundings. He had some advantages; Chronos held useful powers, after all, but he never forgot the lesson he learned that one day: Twenty minutes. I have twenty minutes of time. That was the limit; after twenty minutes, Chronos would overheat and stop.  In retrospect, he would be quite embarrassed about that event. I acted so high and mighty, then ended up getting run over¡­

    Loria held little classes for the children between her shifts at the various shops and inns that employed her. She taught language to the little children, writing the older ones, and mathematics the oldest ones. Rory attended the classes on language with great fervor, but generally declined from mathematics, mentally scoffing that, ¡°I already know Calculus; I don¡¯t think I need to learn basic Arithmetic.¡± Loria simply thought that he found it too confusing.

    With a month of experience, he was a fine listener but still a poor speaker. Writing, now, he took like fish to the water. Even Loria was surprised at the rate at which he took to it. He scoured over what little books the orphanage had, but was generally disappointed; they were filled with tales of heroics, of rabbits and their cunning, of bears and their great pride¡ªnot exactly the historic texts he was looking for.

    Generally, he stayed away from the other children, but today, it seems he would have no choice. The eldest of the children, a pair of siblings, both with dull blonde hair but sharp features, confronted him. Rory had gathered that their names were Gilas and Sarra, respectively.

    ¡°Hello? Help you?¡±

    ¡°Come with us.¡±

    He blinked. Are they trying to bully me or something? I don¡¯t think that works¡­ In any case, he wouldn¡¯t be in any danger no matter what they did. ¡°Okay,¡± he replied in his most genial tone. When outside, the Gilas turned to him.

    ¡°You need to earn your keep.¡±

    ¡°Earn my keep?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been eating our food, but you haven¡¯t done anything in return.¡± What? Loria never told me anything about that. I would be happy to, though¡­

    ¡°Loria, not much money?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes. She had to go into debt to pay the taxes on the place. She even paid for your treatment after you got run over by a cart like an idiot. Haven¡¯t you noticed that she¡¯s been out longer and longer now?¡±

    Well, working was fine with him. Loria had helped him out quite a bit now, after all. And he still needed her language classes; he couldn¡¯t afford for her to be working all day long. He disagreed with the idiot part, though. That was an experiment. For science. ¡°Okay. How work?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s not much for us in terms of official work.¡±

    ¡°Then what do?¡±

    Gilas smirked. ¡°We steal.¡±

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    That definitely sounded like something medieval street children would do. ¡°Okay. How do?¡±

    ¡°Usually, I make a commotion¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªAnd I steal,¡± Sarra finished.

    ¡°What I do?¡±

    ¡°Well, I can only cause so much of a distraction by myself. With Sarra, we could stall for much longer. We want you to take over her job.¡± Perhaps the true reason, however, was that Gilas did not want to expose his sister to danger. Causing a commotion would at most earn you a beating and a laugh, but getting caught stealing could end up costing a hand or two. He wouldn¡¯t say that, of course.

    Soon, they reached the market-place, a lively square footed in the area directly below the great palace where the King lived. The square was set up as a grid of lanes, around which the merchant¡¯s established their stalls. Flares of bright red, blue, and green dazzled all who entered¡ªa menagerie of colors which contrasted directly with its grim surroundings. Here, merchants of all kinds and ethnicities peddled their wares. Only one thing was common between them: they were all wealthy. Merchants who settled into a town were inevitably richer than those who traveled, and to be able to pay for a spot in the central plazas was a sure sign of one¡¯s wealth and prosperity.

    As the trio arrived, they scuttled next to a tree, planning their misdeeds.

    ¡°You see that guy with the apples?¡± Gilas said, pointing at a merchant who indeed was peddling apples. ¡°He¡¯s our target. We¡¯re starting low, since you¡¯re a beginner. I¡¯ll go chase Sarra and you¡¯ll go rob him. Meet us behind that well over there.¡± Rory nodded.

    As they were leaving, Sarra turned over to him.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± she whispered, ¡°my brother is just jealous of you. It¡¯s fine if you don¡¯t get anything.¡± He thought about it; in the end, he did look pretty pompous from the outside.

    Soon, they began their act. Sarra ran away, her dressed unlinked, and Gilas chased, pretending to be some kind of rapist. As they neared the apple merchant, Sarra winked at Rory, as she looped underneath the merchant¡¯s feet. Gilas, of course, simply ran into him. Angered, the merchant started chasing him as well. Well, it¡¯s as good a time as any.

    Rory activated Chronos. Familiar, alien sounds began to reverberate through his ears as sound itself stops. The world stilled, a frozen image of a once lively world. Rory began to walk towards the merchant¡¯s stall. What do they want me to steal? Apples? No way, that¡¯s not even worth the trouble. Probably his money. Has to keep it somewhere. He begun searching around, looking into the slew of odd containers that littered the other side of the stall. Finally, after almost ten minutes had past, he found it¡ªa small bag, filled with the day¡¯s processions, hidden under a false floor on the base of the stall. How the hell did they expect me to get this normally? He looked inside; the bag was filled with a generous sum of coins, but he didn¡¯t feel it was enough. He looked at the merchant himself, still stuck in a ridiculous pose. Sure enough, he found what he was looking for; more pouches, each filled with more coins, all attached to secret areas stitched onto his tunic. This guy sure is paranoid. Rory sighed. The last hope of humanity is currently robbing some poor merchant.

    Having finished the job, Rory walked over to the well, de-activated Chronos, and watched. One of the men eventually caught Gilas, giving him a few kicks and then letting him go while comforting Sarra. After a bit, they regrouped, meeting at the well just as they said they would.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the apples?¡±

    ¡°Apples?¡± Rory asked, confused. Did they seriously want me to steal apples?

    ¡°The hell did you steal if not apples?¡± Gilas scolded, a superior glint in his eyes.

    ¡°Brother! You can¡¯t possibly¡ª¡°

    ¡°This,¡± Rory interjected, opening up the bags of coin he had pilfered.

    ¡°W-w¡ªhow!?¡± Gilas sputtered. They were both shocked; that was more than 50 gild¡ªenough to feed them for a month. How the hell did he have the time to do all that? Merchants always hid their coin in various hidden spots exactly to prevent this kind of event from happening.

    ¡°I fast.¡±

    They were returning to the orphanage, coin in hand. Whatever hostilities the siblings held had melted away.

    ¡°That much money should keep the debt collectors away for the next few months.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Upon further reflection, Rory asked, ¡°How give this?¡±

    ¡°H-heh, that¡¯s actually a good question,¡± Sarra answered. Loria didn¡¯t exactly approve of stealing. Sarra had, up to this point, only stolen food, which they could just say was ¡°given¡± to them by kind-hearted merchants. Gilas, however, had, on his own, stolen money before.

    ¡°Just say it was an anonymous donation from a noble or something. Leave it on her table with a note. You know how to write, after all.¡±

    Rory nodded, already contemplating what kind of flowery message a noble would write.

    Loria was on her returning commute, the moon beginning to rise behind her. She sighed; she was working for longer and longer, but her debt only increased more and more. The due date for her next payment was in two days, and she might have to take another loan to pay it. She wasn¡¯t an idiot; she knew that wasn¡¯t sustainable. She was proud of her mathematical ability¡ªshe always hoped one of the children would take it up, finish the Talent Test with good scores, and get adopted by some rich family. She was disappointed when Rory failed to show interest. She had high hopes for him¡ªhe had taken to writing so well, after all.

    When she stepped into the orphanage, all the children were asleep. She had a sad smile; her time with them was limited these days. What was she going when she couldn¡¯t handle the debt anymore? They¡¯ll take the building first. Where will they live then? Then, she noticed it: a little cloth sack with a note.

    Dear Loria Mera

    Your struggles are not lost. I have taken care to observe you, and find your cause to be of the utmost nobility. A lady such as yourself should not work such long hours, however. I have taken the liberty to send you 73 gild for you to spend on your fancies. I beseech you, make your hands no rougher. Do not seek me; I have addressed this note with an alias.

    ¡ªNoman

    This was too good to be true¡ªthat was more than enough money to pay her interest. She could take less jobs, spend more time with the children, maybe even pretty herself up; no, no, children first. She couldn¡¯t afford to do that. She tucked the sack beneath her dress, keeping it safe until morning when she would take a trip to the loaners, her heart warming just a little bit to that Noman, unaware that he lay just a few feet away.

 Change

    indents

    Rory was currently walking side by side with Sarra, bucket in hand. They had been walking for nearly an hour now, and the flimsy sandals that constituted Rory''s footwear proved to be of little comfort to his feet, but, upon seeing the crowds ahead, he knew that they had reached their destination.

    "Many people."

    "Of course. Everyone''s hungry, after all."

    "Where to?"

    "Usually some guy gives a speech and then they tell us where the orphan''s portions are." She pointed at a man standing on what would normally be the gallows, two guards in shining armor next to him. "I think it''s him." Sure enough, his voice soon bellowed out.

    "Citizens of Adringum, our Majesty, the almighty, just, and fair King Hellbram has graciously sent food and aide from his very pockets. Know that despite your personal failings, our great father has generously given you another breath of life. One ticket represents one share--thievery will be punished, swiftly and mercilessly." He coughed. "Oh yes, and orphans shall be given their own share, over there to the right." He turned awkwardly to a sinewy man next to him, who nodded a few times. "That is all."

    "Wait line?"

    "Yeah, may as well," she said, sighing. They walked over to a group to three or four wagons, tarps covering their contents. A few men wearing breeches but not cloaks were passing out parcels, under protection from a small squadron of city guardsmen. A massive line had formed already, and, being comprised of children, it soon transformed into more of a blob than a line until the guardsmen began to wave their swords menacingly, forcing them back into a single file line.

    "This is going to take forever," Sarra groaned, peering over a few hundred heads.

    Rory just nodded. They just stood there for a bit, a somewhat awkward silence permeating the air.

    "So... where are you from, Rory? Never got to ask that before."

    "Far away."

    "Far away? That''s not very specific."

    "What about you?"

    "Me, huh? Hmm... Well, my brother and I were the children of a minor officer in the military."

    "No military honors?"

    "Wrong military. Our father was part of the Aklan military. That''s to the south, by the way. I''m not really sure what ended up happening to him. Maybe he died. Maybe someone paid his ransom. I don''t know."

    "Not care?"

    She sighed. "Ah, I guess I don''t. I know familial ties are supposed to be important, but I can''t even remember seeing him. Really, what''s the difference between him and another random guy? How about you? What''s your relationship to your parents?"

    "Ah... distant? Me taken for... education very early."

    "Oh, are you a monk?"

    "In a way."

    "Suppose that''s how you learned to read so quickly. Man, this line never ends." Just as she was complaining, they heard a common to the left.

    A man wearing rough clothing was angrily holding his parcel open. "What the hell! This is half sand, you bastards!"

    Another man looked inside his. "Hey! You''re right!"

    Momentum gathered. Soon, dozens of angry people gathered below the gallows, demanding an answer.

    "L-lies! The sand was placed by you, in an attempt to¡ª"

    "Fuck your bullshit!"

    The noble looked nervously around him. He whispered into one of the guardsmen, and soon, they pushed through the streets, silencing all dissenters.

    Rory turned towards Sarra. "Country always like this?"

    "Well... yeah, I guess so. It was better in the past. When I was five, living at Loria''s place, they had officials pass us monthly rations. Then they stopped. Now they started again, but we have to gather for them. I don''t know anymore. I don''t really care, either."

    Though, under the sweltering sun, the time passed slowly, eventually it was their turn. Both of them turned their tickets, small chips of wood carved with a unique pattern, and received a bags worth of food.

    "Hey, Rory, let me see your share."

    "Hmm? Sure, why?" he asked, confused.

    She winked at him. "I''ll tell you later. Here, stand in front of me." She, hiding behind Rory, began to shift through the bags, or so Rory thought. He couldn''t really tell. "Okay, all done."

    They had only managed to walk 20 or so meters before 3 or 4 children, likely poor street children, stopped him. Their clothes were no better than what Rory and Sarra were wearing; in fact, they were a bit worse, since they both washed their clothes semi-regularly.

    "What you need?"

    "Your food."

    Sure are blunt. "Ah? It is ours."

    "And? What, are you some kind of idiot?"

    "Maybe."

    "Look here, give us the bags, and we''ll let you out. Don''t, and, well..."

    "Threats?"

    "Yeah. I see your girl other there. Don''t give us the bags, and she''ll be on our beds tonight."

    Rory was absolutely confident; with Chronos, it is frankly impossible for anyone to defeat him individually.

    Sarra nudged him in the back. "Rory, let me handle it," she whispered.

    "They no threat," Rory responded.

    "Just let me handle it, okay?"

    Perplexed, Rory nodded. Sarra took her bag and offered it up. "Just one is alright, right?"

    The boys thought about it for a while, before agreeing. "Sure is. Free to go." They didn''t really want to fight; they didn''t have enough energy or medical access to afford to fight. They''d seen people die from cuts before, and weren''t going to risk it.

    After Rory and Sarra had walked for a bit, Rory asked Sarra, "Why let them?"

    "Why not?"

    "Could fight. Keep all food."

    "We did keep all the food."

    "What? But¡ª"

    "Rory, do you remember that guy complaining about the sand?"

    "Wait, do you mean that...?"

    "Yep, that bag had nothing but sand. Now we don''t have to dump it somewhere. Sometimes it''s best not to fight."

    "Very clever. Experience?"

    She sighed, staring up at the sky. "Yeah. Rory, I didn''t mention this before, but our mother... our mother was most likely raped by our father. He felt bad, stayed with her for a bit. When she had us, she up and left us. Don''t know what happened to her, either. Then Aklan starting losing the war, and what were we?"

    "Sorry."

    "Those weren''t good days. We managed, though. We hid, we foraged, we stole until we got here. And then Loria took us up."

    "Good woman."

    "Definitely. Our lives have been relatively easy since then. I just wonder, how long will it last? This peace?"

    "I don''t know."

    "Neither do it. Come, let''s go."

    It had been almost half a year since Rory arrived. He could hold a proper conversation now, though he still spoke with a strange accent. He and the two siblings had quickly befriended each other.  He had undertaken a mission to make them literate, which had had varying degrees of success. Sarra took to it, but Gilas still complained that, ¡°I¡¯m just staring at a bunch of damn scribbles¡±.

    They held regular ¡°missions¡±, which had grown more and more elaborate. Gone were the days of robbing fruit from merchants. No, they had bigger targets now. Sarra did the research, Gilas did any heavy lifting, and Rory did the deed. They were quite successful, hitting even a few banks, never taking enough to be suspicious. No doubt the blame would be laid on a greedy accountant fuzzing the numbers, not a trio of orphans. Loria was debt-free at this point, but Rory¡¯s flowery writing had an unfortunate side effect¡­

    Dinner was finished, and Rory was due to help wash the dishes along with Loria.

    ¡°Say, Loria¡­¡±

    ¡°Hmm? What is it?¡±

    ¡°Is there any way to move up the social ladder?"

    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t like living here?¡± she said with mock disappointment.

    ¡°N-no, it¡¯s not that¡­¡±

    She smiled. ¡°Yes, there is one way. The King hosts an Abex Test every year. The top scorers get adopted into noble families.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be a noble then?¡±

    ¡°Well, not quite. You¡¯ll be an Abex¡ªan extension to the family. You won¡¯t have all the rights and won¡¯t be in line for succession. But, you¡¯ll have the right to marry a noble girl then, and if you do, then you¡¯ll be an official member of the aristocracy.¡±

    ¡°When is it?¡±

    ¡°In a few months. What, do you want to take it? Maybe you should spend more time learning math and less time out there with Gilas and Sarra,¡± she said, reaching down to rub his head. ¡°Oh look, there they are. Go on, I can handle this.¡±

    Rory, having completed his heist, was strolling his way back to the trio¡¯s designated rendezvous point. The tree that served as their meeting point began to come into view; from the distance he spied not two figures, however, but four. That¡¯s not right. Suspicious, he sneaked his way closer, sometimes meandering in random directions, sometimes following the crowds of passerby¡¯s that flocked across the city streets. As he neared them, he could see Sarra and Gilas tied to the three. Above them stood two young men, both draped under cloaks. That could only mean one thing¡ªthey were nobles.

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    Rory ran the situations through his head; he had a few courses of action. He could simply activated Chronos, untie the two, and escape. But they piss him off¡ªthis shit is what brought humanity to its knees. No, he won¡¯t just save those two. He has a unique position, after all. He has power; undeniable power. Power that money can¡¯t buy.  Power that has yet to fail him.

    Illan Tykis stared at his two prisoners, unsure of what to do.

    ¡°Shall we arrest them?¡±

    His attendant, a lesser noble, answered. ¡°My Lord, that would be the just course of action.¡±

    ¡°They look quite pitiful, don¡¯t you agree?¡±

    ¡°They look like rats.¡±

    Illan sighed. ¡°I suppose,¡± he said, squatting down. ¡°Why do you steal, little rats? Does not the Kingdom send out aid?¡± They didn¡¯t answer, merely staring at him with cold, hateful eyes.

    ¡°They steal because they fucking need to,¡± said a voice from the shadows.

    ¡°Who dares speak such language against the noble Tykis?¡± his attendant demanded, furious.

    ¡°Calm down,¡± Illan said. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡±

    A figure emerged from the corner, not a hair taller than the children underneath his feet. His shoddy clothes and wild, unkempt hair revealed his status. At this, one of his seemingly mute prisoners finally spoke up.

    ¡°Rory, get away! He has a sword¡ª¡° she screamed before being silenced with a swift kick from Illan¡¯s attendant.

    "Rory, eh? You say you steal out of necessity? That very well could be true; the plight of the common folk are not entirely lost among us. What of the aid sent out by the Kingdom?"

    "The aid gets sent, but it doesn''t actually get to the people who need it. The stronger kids take it for themselves. The other kids have to work for them, steal, or find someone to live with."

    Illan brought his hand up to his chin, apparently deep in thought. "So they form their own little governments... How curious. Do the taxes manifest purely in the form of services? Do they have a commission to determine labor division? Ah, could you take me there, sometime? I''d love to¡ª"

    "Fuck off. People are starving to death and you want to watch them? How about you help them?"

    "Greatest apologies. That was not thoughtful of me," he said, raising both of his hands. "Is there something I can do for you?"

    "Let them go."

    "You mean these two? Ah, yes, they seem to know you. Not a¡ª"

    He was interrupted by his attendant. "You cannot, my lord!"

    Illan sighed. "I suppose not."

    "Let them go," Rory repeated.

    At this, the attendants rage boiled over. "You rat, that mouth of yours shall perish today," he said, drawing his sword.

    Illan and Sarra''s voices mixed together. "Rory, run!" "Stop, stop!"

    What was this fool doing? Drawing a blade against a child? Illan reached out to stop him, but he was too late. The blade fell... and fell... and¡ª

    He blacked out.

    "Rory, what did you do?"

    The trio was walking back to the orphanage. Gilas was brimming with fervor, frequently slapping Rory on the back while repeating some variation of, "You really showed them!¡± Sarra was still dazed, however.

    "I''m just fast."

    Sarra snorted. "Yeah, so fast we couldn''t see you disarm, beat, and dispatch of those two lordlings."

    "What, did you want me to leave you there?"

    "No, it''s not that. It''s just... strange. Is there something you haven''t told us?"

    "N-no, not particularly."

    "Stop worryin'' ''bout it, Sarra. Rory''s a badass, that''s all we need to know," Gilas laughed.

    They could see the orphanage appearing in the distance... and Loria, hands on her hips, giving them a stare that could chill the sun. Well, there was nothing to do now but confront her.

    "What were you three doing out there so late?"

    "Just... going for a walk," Sarra answered in her most innocent tone. They chose her as their representative, hoping that she would have more mercy on a girl.

    "You thought you could trick me by putting pillows under your covers?" Well, it worked the last few times.

    Sarra laughed awkwardly, before looking down. "We''re sorry. We''re sorry," she repeated, looking over at the other two, who quickly followed her. Loria continued to stare at the three for a little bit, then sighed.

    "Alright, alright. Apology accepted. I won''t bother asking why you were out there. No doubt I''ll get nothing but lies. Just remember, there are dangerous people out there, especially at night."

    "Don''t worry, Loria. Rory would handle any of that," Gilas said, smirking.

    "Oh really, Rory would?"

    Emboldened, Rory responded, "I''m pretty confident."

    Loria laughed and walked over to him, pinching one of his cheeks. "What if I was the one attacking you?"

    "I could handle that," Rory answered, though his speech was distorted from the abuse his cheek was receiving.

    "And whose cheek is being pulled right now?"

    "Well, that¡ª"

    Loria let go. "Anything can happen, Rory. Sometimes you can''t fight your way out of it. Now, let''s all get inside."

    Rory heard knocking near the door. Loria quickly walked over and answered.

    "H-hello, my lords. Rory? There''s no one here named Rory. Oh, yes, if I see anyone named Rory, I''ll be sure to tell him that. Thank you for gracing us with your presence. Goodbye."

    Lords? It must be related to those two. Rory was still very confident in his ability to handle most matters. Loria, having properly sent off her unexpected guests, turned towards him.

    "Rory? We need to talk."

    "What is it?"

    "There were two men with cloaks outside. They were asking for you. Why? What did you do last night?" Must be vengeful or something. I''ll beat that out of them this time.

    "Nothing, Loria. Where did they ask to meet?"

    "The park on 5th street."

    "Alright, I''ll head out." I can defend myself, but... "Loria, don''t tell Gilas or Sarra about this."

    "Why? Rory, what are you about to do?"

    "Nothing, Loria."

    "Don''t ''nothing'' me.

    He disappeared. She sat down and sighed. There was nothing she could do at this point.

    Illan was lounging around in one of the many parks located within the city. The cloak fluttering behind him caused most of the populace to shuffle away from him. Finally, he spotted the person he wanted to see.

    "Rory! Good morning to you."

    "What do you want?"

    "Just to talk."

    "I''ll go ahead and let you know that I can, at any point, kill you."

    Illan raised both of his hands apologetically. "Oh yes, I''ve well experienced that." He then gave Rory a more serious face, and said, "I''ve come to warn you."

    "About what?"

    "My good attendant has taken the liberty to report you to the city guard. You are wanted for Assault."

    Rory snorted. "And? Do you think you can catch me?"

    "No, no I don''t. But they know where you live, Rory. Tonight, if you are not found, they will raid the Mera premises and arrest all inhabitants for aiding a criminal." Illan could see Rory stiffen. Not a very good poker face, evidently. "That is all, Rory," he said, turning to leave.

    "W-wait!"

    "Hmm?"

    Rory hesitated, before steeling his nerves, "Can''t you do something?"

    "I am but a lordling. If I was a Count, then perhaps I could influence the proceedings. But alas, I am not." That was a lie. For something of this little importance, a word from him could pardon Rory. And yet, that would be no fun, would it? "Oh yes, and if you assassinate my father, I will probably not want to help you," he added before turning to leave.

    When Ilan had walked a good distance away, he gave once last look back, casting his gaze upon a figure paralyzed, a figure far smaller than the prideful spirit that he had met earlier. Well, now, Rory, whatever shall you do?

 Struggles

    indents

    Cobblestone, for all intents and purposes, is a type of surface in which rounded stones are embedded into some kind of mortar. It was commonly used for roads throughout the world until the turning of the 20th Century, when asphalt replaced it for general use. Rory, with some basic multiplication, estimated that 800 stones comprised the flooring of his cell. Upon closer inspection, he counted 934 stones. Or maybe 938. Or maybe 930. He wasn''t entirely sure. The source of his inaccuracy was the patch of stones nearly his legs. No matter how hard he tried, the blood, pitch black in the darkness, hid the exact details from his mind.

    "An eye for an eye, boy"

    And he was glad of it; glad to have something to do. The mystery preoccupied his mind, as he tried more and more convoluted ways to solve it. He estimated the size of each stone in the floor and averaged them, then used that to estimate the number of missing stones. But he noticed that stones tended to have similar properties to the ones next to it. So he averaged the stones local to the missing patch. A job well done.

    "You don''t want your little orphanage to be burnt, do you?"

    Before the pain, the searing pain, the cruel deliberating pain, could find a place within his mind, he quickly crafted a new scheme. He could estimate the size of each s tone by running the reflection and refraction of light, the source of which was a small slit upon which soft torchlight spilled in whatever capacity it could into the room, through some calculations. Yes, yes.

    "There''s more to come, rat."

    But just as he had estimated the area of the third stone, light suddenly spilled into the room, ruining his concentration. He lazily began to crane his head upwards, but gave up when the pain became too much.

    "Get out," a low voice said, "someone paid your way out."

    Rory didn''t answer.

    The guard sighed. "Really roughed you up, didn''t they?" He walked towards Rory, grabbing him by his left arm, as it was relatively devoid of blood. "Come on, there you go. Can''t stay here forever. Don''t want to deal with your corpse."

    "Killing is prohibited."

    After much shuffling, the sharp rays of morning once again struck Rory''s face. It hadn''t been that long¡ªonly a day or two. Long days, those were; or were they? He couldn''t really remember, to be honest. He was escorted to the nearest street corner, where the guard promptly left him. He immediately collapsed; he must have a few fractures in his left femur. Or maybe it was completely broken. He wasn''t sure anymore. He wasn''t sure of much right now.

    "But that is all."

    A few minutes of struggling earned him an upright position against the red brick he sat against. What do I do now?  Hoping some good Samaritan rescues him, he supposes. Maybe Loria. Not even a dozen hours ago he would''ve vehemently refused help; this was his duty; his heroic sacrifice. Now, he didn''t really care. He was supposed to save humanity? He can''t even save himself.

    "Keep his eye''s safe; he needs to see. See himself."

    He still had Chronos, connected solidly to his wrist. A lot of good that would do him; what, would he give himself more time to rot? Really, he had relied too much on Chronos. A magic button that saved all his problems; as if.

    "Parole set at 600 gild."

    No, no world saving now. No heroics. Just sit, and sit, and relish in the pain. And so, a day passed, the suns journey towards the west barely registering in his mind. On the second day, his mind was sharper, his wit clearer, but his heart still weak. Past medical training¡ªa past life, really¡ªcame back to him.

    "May as well be dead."

    He no longer swatted the flies away. In fact, he corralled all the flying critters he could towards the multitude of swelling flesh that comprised his leg.

    "A fast one, huh? You know what we do to fast ones, right?"

    To his surprise, he awoke next to a small pile of silvers. They must think I''m a beggar. No, I am. He felt better now, for whatever that was worth. But he was parched, the last time he had drank anything being a few days ago. He needs water, and he needs water quickly. Slowly and painfully, he began to stand up, gently testing his left leg. No, he still couldn''t put weight on it. This is a problem. He began to walk down the street, using the wall next to him as support. Water, water, where do I get water? There was no tap here. A well? Where could he find a public well? Loria use to handle all of that...

    He turned towards a man walking in the opposite direction. "Sir, do you know where I may find water¡ª"

    The man ignored him; no, that wasn''t true. He, in fact, purposefully knocked into the bloodied youth, as if punishing him for daring to ask, causing a few silver coins to fall out of his hands. Rory lazily looked down at them and sighed, then slowly began to bend over and pick them up, every movement causing his creaking joints to ache.

    He continued to limp his way down the street, thirst driving him forwards. Finally, he reached a small food stall, its counter operated by a young girl and its kitchens manned by presumably her father.

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    "Water. A silver for water," he offered, holding up a silver coin for her to see.

    She stared at him nervously; he must''ve been in a fight. She was tempted to call her father and kick him out, but he had a soft glint in his eyes, a resignation, a gentleness. She would try to scare him off peacefully. "Two silvers."

    "Two silvers, then," he said, holding another coin up.

    "Three."

    "Three," he echoed.

    An entire three silvers for water? Was he an idiot? Money was money, though.

    "Father! A pitcher of water!" she yelled, and a dimmed, "Comin'' right up" responded to her call. Soon, Rory received his water. He drank ravenously, water running down his chin. When he noticed, however, he frowned, and reverted the pitcher. He then proceeded to drink slowly, methodically, making sure no drop fell to the ground.

    Afterwards, he handed the now empty pitcher back to the girl and wandered on. Thirst having now been dealt with, he constructed a list of to-do''s: Obtain support, obtain medical treatment, obtain food. He completed the first relatively easily, buying an old broom handle from a sweeper with the rest of his silvers. As for medical treatment, that was simply impossible. Looking at his maggot-infested leg, however, he couldn''t help but feel that his time was ticking. As for food, he could use Chronos to steal some--he didn''t like doing that, however. Not because his morals suddenly rejected the idea, but because he didn''t want to use Chronos anymore. Overconfidence was what got him into this mess in the first place; no, he would only use Chronos is he must.

    Traveling back to the orphanage would solve most of those, but... No, if he must, he will come crawling back. But, the more he thought about it, the more his heart constricted in pain. He wasn''t sure if he could make it, anyways. His leg was urgently wounded, and at the pace he was going it would take a few days to get to that part of the city. What, then? He didn''t know.

    He continued to wander aimlessly, taking short breaks every few meters. His clothes, which were torn and bloodstained to begin with, gradually grew dirtier and dirtier. To the other pedestrians, he was an odd sight: a young man, hobbling on a staff like an old man. But, he wasn''t their problem. Just let the invalid wander.

    Fortune had not completely abandoned him, however. From a curt, orderly building made of fine wood, a long line at least a hundred meters stretched, filled with children of all ages, of all levels of wealth, some guarded by their parents and some not. It was a bizarre scene, one that reminded him of the other world, the world of peace, the world of electricity, the world of institution. But the itching on his leg, on his arms, on his torso, the pain on his left leg, they soon reminded him that he was currently in the world of anarchy. A world where the strong prevail, and the strong fail, the weak are suppressed, and the weak rule. And yet, no matter how many times Rory blinked, the children were still lined up, like he and his schoolmates were when they went to lunch, or had their medical examination.

    Looking behind him, he found the cause. 40th Bi-Annual Abex Test. He remembered Loria telling him about that; she always did nag him about math. Suddenly, he had an idea--one that would solve his problems. All he had to do was take the test, do well, and then have the resources of a noble family at his disposal. It wouldn''t be hard, after all. But one element made him recoil--if he was to be a noble, then no doubt he meet those brutes again. They would kick him, punch him, grab their hammers and...

    He looked down at his leg again. Is he so ashamed and broken that he would rather die than face them? Yes, he thought. But then he thought about humanity, about Loria, about Gilas and Sarra. What would they think of him, dying like a wretch? The gears in his mind began to grind, and he slowly turned back. He''ll give it a shot.

    A few hours later, he was admitted into the building. The test was open to all children of all economic classes, and so the proctors were not unused to seeing dirty, broken street children walk into their building. Indeed, Rory was not the only one covered with dirt and wounds.

    The building itself was clean, with a stone floor and whitewashed wooden walls. Each child was given a unique identifier, which they would turn in later to check if they were accepted. Soon, they were corralled into the test halls, where each child was given a pen, parchment, and a set of questions inscribed on the wall. They were all mathematical in nature; the basics. Rory had no trouble adding 2 to 3, or multiplying 7 by 5, or diving 60 by 3, or even dividing 9 by 8. He could tell you how many apples the merchant was selling, how much fencing the farmer needed. The last question, the real stumper, the one that weeded out the geniuses from the merely bright, was an application of Pythagorean Theorem. Rory finished with ease, hobbled his way to the proctor, gave the paper in, and left, the first one out.

    The results would be in tomorrow for his batch of test-takers. He needed somewhere to stay for the night. After a bit of searching, he found a nice crevice located within the wall of a decrepit building a few meters off from the testing grounds. Massaging his empty stomach and ignoring his festering leg, he drifted off to sleep at once, still deathly tired from his injuries.

 Vyncis

    indents

    indents

    Morning came, and Rory flicked the spiders off his chest, killed some maggots in his leg, and limped his way over to the testing grounds. Entering the testing building, he gave his identifier to the proctors.

    "What is your name, little sir?"

    "Rory. Rory Lamadu, if it pleases you."

    "Well, Rory, today you are Rory Abex Vyncis. Congratulations."

    "Vyncis?"

    "Yes, a lucky one, you are. There''s no Hellbram without a Vyncis, they say. Not as strong these days, but the Vyncis'' are still powerful people. Where''d you learn your numbers so well, Sir Abex Vyncis?"

    "Ah," Rory said sheepishly, "my mother use to teach me maths every day." That was certainly a lie.

    "Good on your mother then. Come with me, we''ll need to freshen you up. You are coroneted as a vassal of the Crown in a few days. Don''t worry, I already know about your leg."

    Rory followed him out and onto the streets, where, after roughly half a mile of hobbled walking, they reached a small, tidy shop in the richest area of the city. Rory entered, amazed at the pristine surroundings. For almost two weeks now, he''d been roughing it in the grime of the streets, and for more than a year before then, he''d been situated in a decrepit building, filled with dirt and on the verge of collapse.

    "Good day, dear Doctor. How goes?" the proctor said, greeting a sinewy, thin man, with slightly greying white hair and dull features worn from age.

    "Good, good. Who''s the lad?"

    "A Vyncis, he is."

    "Oh, a bright one then."

    "Yes. Not within my jurisdiction, but I''d heard he''d had a perfect score."

    "My, my. Bright indeed," he said, nodding his head thoughtfully. Then, he turned towards Rory. "What''s your injury?"

    "My leg, my lord. I believe it''s fractured and possibly infected."

    "My lord, eh?" he laughed, clapping Rory on the back, almost tipping him over. "You''re every bit a lord I am. Just call me Viz. Let me take a look at that leg of yours."

    Rory pulled the leg of his trousers up, showing Viz his wound, whose gaze grew into that of a hardened professional. After roughly ten minutes, his inspection was complete.

    "My, my. Quite serious. What in the world happened, lad? Almost as if¡ªno, sorry. That was inconsiderate. You¡¯ve no doubt been through tough times.¡±

    The proctor coughed.

    "Oh yes, you may go. I''ll handle him. First, sanitize the wounds. Then we''ll bathe him."

    "Thank you, Viz. I''ll have his clothes prepared in an hour."

    With a wave from Viz, the proctor took his leave. He then called for his wife, a rather plump woman, whose hair had not quite begun greying but was still clearly of considerable age.

    "Dear, could you have the servants draw up a bath for the lad here?"

    "Of course," she answered. Then she turned towards Rory before heading off. "You must be an Abex. Best thing the last king ever did, I''d say. Start the Abex programs."

    "Rory. You''ll still need surgery. Too old I''d wager for it to heal on its own. We''ll disinfect the wound first--it''ll hurt--then we''ll give you a bath. Need to be clean beforehand. We''ll knock you out before. Then I''ll have to line up the pieces of your femur. Put a splint on it. It''ll hurt like hell for a few months, but you''ll have full use of your leg within a few years."

    Rory just nodded; broken bones were a common occurrence in his time, too. He was just a little worried on the quality of the surgery... but he couldn''t really complain, either. The doctor seemed as well trained as any in this period. Viz lead him to a room in the back, filled with his various instruments and concoctions. He took out a bottle. "This is alcohol. It''ll hurt, but it''ll make your wound safe."

    Rory was a little curious. "Sir, how does it work?"

    "God if I know," he laughed, "it just does." Evidently, knowledge of micro-organisms has not quite reached this period. From a box on a shelf behind him, Viz took out a piece of cloth. He gently poured some alcohol onto it, and set upon cleaning Rory''s leg.

    An hour later and Rory was looking down at himself. The proctor, true to his word, brought a fresh suit of clothing; a fresh, dark green tunic and leggings, along with the noble cloak. It was strange to feel the soft cloth, uninterrupted by layers of dirt. It was strange that he felt no stiffness when he turned. It was strange wearing leggings--that was something he''d never done before.

    He heard the Doctor''s croaking voice from below. "Rory! There''s a guest here for you."

    A guest? Was it Loria? He didn''t exactly know anyone else... Upon reaching the lower floor, he did not, however, see Loria, but a man no younger than the doctor. Unlike the doctor, however, he had sharp, almost aquiline features, with a pair of fierce, piercing eyes.

    "This, lad, is your new father."

    Rory immediately kneeled. "My Lord."

    The man laughed. "Get up. You''re my son, not my servant."

    Rory obliged.

    "I am not that frightening, am I?" he mused, bringing a hand up to stroke his chin. "I am Pier Vyncis. Come, let us talk."

    They were situated in Viz''s dining room, Rory and Pier sitting opposite of each other.

    "Quite fashionable you look. You''ll be a full noble in short order, I''d wager," he said with a laugh.

    "You flatter me." Pier didn''t exactly have the temperament he was expecting.

    "Oh, don''t be so formal." After a pause, he continued. "Do you know the Vyncis family?"

    "N-no, I''m afraid not."

    Pier laughed again. "No, it''s fine, lad. Ah, we aren''t what we use to be."

    "What did you use to be?"

    "The second most powerful family in the Kingdom, of course! We were the right-hand man of the Hellbram''s."

    "What happened?"

    "The men of the family were faced with the greatest adversity a man could face," Pier said, his face growing serious.

    "What was that?" War? Disease? Feud?

    Pier lowered his voice to a growl. "Down here, lad," he said in dramatic fashion, pointing at his crotch. He then burst into laughter. It took Rory a second before he understood, upon which he resisted the urge to bring his palm up to his face. "No, but really lad, the gods and goddesses of fertility have not been kind with us. We''ve only one child, a daughter of fourteen. My wife''s dead now. I won''t take a mistress. My time''s coming to an end."

    "But I''m not officially your son."

    "No, no you aren''t."

    "Who will inherit the estate then?"

    "Rosa, my daughter. We are not those barbarians to the west. Our women can succeed us."

    "What is my role, then?"

    "Rosa, well, she''s..." He was interrupted by Viz.

    "I''m sure you two will have plenty of time to chat in the future, but Rory needs his surgery."

    "Of course, Viz," he said, standing up. "Rory, I shall take my leave. It was good talking to you."

    After Pier had left, Rory asked Viz, "How could fertility impact the family to such an extent?"

    Viz looked conflicted. ¡°That is something for Pier to tell you, not me. Come, lad, that leg won¡¯t fix itself.¡±

    The Royal Palace was surrounded by crowds of onlookers. Four children, today, would be coroneted as servants of the state. They represented hope for all the hundreds of thousands peasants that lived within the city; the hope to rise above their social status. They began to their walk down the great pathway that lead into the Audience Chamber, the most splendid of all the rooms in the Royal Palace.

    The most surprising, and perhaps the most inspiring, was a young girl, no older than 16. Her soft brown hair, though worked upon by many maids for the last few hours, still contained the rough edge of poverty. She was accompanied by three boys: a blond fellow of considerable stature, a brunette with an exceedingly delicate build, and Rory, a little black haired boy who hobbled on with a staff, his leg encased in cloth.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    They each knelt before the King, an old but solid man, whose wrinkles and gray hair told not of weakness but of experience. His sharp gaze pierced each of them, causing all but the girl to flinch; she continued, proud as ever. The King stood up and began to speak, his voice bellowing far louder in their minds than it truly was.

    "Holy day! Holy day! Ayell, Tynell, Hywin, Vyncis. Today we honor you into our services. Do you swear, to forever serve, to forever fight, to forever protect the crown and the country? To keep the peace. To maintain tradition. Ayell?"

    The girl stood up, her head straight with confidence. "I swear, your Majesty."

    "Tynell?"

    "I swear, your Majesty."

    "Hywin?"

    "I swear, your Majesty."

    "Vyncis?"

    "I swear, your Majesty."

    "Very well. You four are the jewels of the kingdom, the brightest of the bright. May your wisdom lead to new greatness. Maintain tradition!"

    In Rory¡¯s mind, the King¡¯s last words seemed more a warning than anything.

    As Rory stepped out of the carriage, he looked on to his new home, and it did not disappoint. True to their heritage as one of the great families, the Vyncis Mansion was massive, bigger than any building Rory had seen in this time period par the Royal Palace itself. He was lead in by the driver, a servant of the family. There, Pier was waiting for him, along with a small girl.

    "Welcome, welcome. Rosa, this is Rory."

    "Good day, Rosa," he greeted. Rosa was petite; a girl of fourteen, she was only a year younger than he was now, but she was even shorter than he was. True to her name, her head was covered in rosy blonde hair.

    "What''s wrong with your leg, Rory?"

    "Rosa, that''s rude¡ª" Pier began, but Rory interrupted him.

    "No, no, it''s fine. I did something stupid, and was punished for it."

    "They punished you by breaking your leg?"

    "Yes, I suppose they did..."

    "Hey, hey! Is it true you were a peasant?"

    "Uh, I guess?"

    Rosa''s eyes seemed to sparkle in response to his answer. Why, of all things, did that excite her?

    "Can you tell me about it? Can he, father?"

    Pier laughed. "I think Rory needs to move his things in."

    "No, it''s fine, erm, father."

    "You can just call me Pier if father is too awkward. You''ll have time after, Rory."

    "I," he said, looking down at himself, "own no more than I wear."

    "Feel free to chat, then. Your room is the second to the right on the second floor. Incidentally, it''s next to Rosa''s."

    Confirmation given, Rosa lead Rory out into a little field behind the house. There, sitting under the idyllic sun, was an old oak tree, Rosa''s favorite spot to sit.

    "So, what do you want to know?" Rory asked once they were situated under the tree.

    "What did you eat?"

    "Rye bread, usually. Rye porridge. Things with poor grain, basically."

    "Didn''t it taste bad?"

    "Well, to be honest, it taste like nothing."

    "Did you eat any meat?"

    "No, not usually."

    "Does it make you tougher?"

    "No, if anything it makes you weaker. A proper man is built from a proper diet."

    "I heard that peasants were braver and more honest than rich men."

    "Who''d you hear that from? Don''t romanticize poverty too much. Often, we were poor for a reason."

    "But you were born into it, were you not?"

    "...I was. But not all can be rich." Not really

    "Why not?"

    "¡­we¡¯re bad at sharing.¡±

    "Where?"

    ¡°Somewhere. A long time ago.¡±

    "How do you know?"

    "Ah, that''s a secret," he said, giving her a wink. She pouted, but he refused to budge. Eventually, she gave up.

    They stayed silent for a while, leaning against the trunk and staring at the skies. A flock of birds flew overhead, flying in perfect formation. Rosa raised her hand towards them, and then weakly let it fall.

    "The poor are more free, are they not?"

    "Hmm?"

    "They can go where they want, wear what they want, do what they want... marry who they want. No archaic customs or rulings."

    "But we cannot buy the food we want, or buy the clothes we want, or pay to travel where we want."

    "But you can still marry who you want."

    "Yes, I suppose so. Unless your beloved is a noble."

    "You can become an Abex."

    "Then you once again have all the restrictions of etiquette."

    "So none of us are free, then. Not like those birds," she said, wishfully.

    Rory grew a sad smile. "No, not even those birds are free. In the end, they must land. Gravity chains us all, after all." And yet we¡¯ve sent men to the moon.

    She stayed quiet for a bit. "How do birds fly? Do you know?"

    "The shape of their wings¡ªah, I can show you," he said, pulling out a piece of spare parchment he had tucked into his robes. His fingers, though clumsily at first, quickly began to remember the routine of folds that they had so often completed back at the academies. Soon, to Rosa''s curious eyes, his hands held a paper airplane.

    "What is that?"

    He smirked. "Just watch." He gave it a quick toss, not wanting to tip himself over given the current status of his leg. Unfortunately for him, his movements were timed perfectly with a particularly strong summer breeze, which caused him to stumble, though he eventually up righted himself.

    Rosa stared, transfixed upon the little mock airplane, that seemingly, against all odds, was gracefully flying through the air, just like the birds she so admired. Only when it had finally hit the ground some 20 meters away did she look back at Rory; this time with admiration, as if he had cast some magical spell.

    "It''s just a paper airplane. We use to make those all the time when I was young." I still am young.

    She stared into the empty blue sky, looking at nothing in particular. "Your smart, aren''t you?"

    "I suppose so."

    ¡°We are not capable of much, are we, compared to your lands.¡±

    He smiled. ¡°We could create stars, move across the world in an instant, send men to the moon. And, by the end,¡± he said, looking down at his wrist, ¡°stop time.¡±

    ¡°You could create stars?¡±

    ¡°In a fashion.¡±

    ¡°Will you ever do that here?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. With enough time.¡±

    ¡°Rory,¡± she said, sticking her face near his.

    ¡°W-what is it?¡±

    ¡°You seem hesitant.¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡±

    ¡°Of everything.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps¡­ perhaps I am,¡± he resigned with a sigh.

    ¡°Problems will not solve themselves.¡±

    ¡°With enough time¡ª¡°

    ¡°They will only increase in severity.¡±

    ¡°Rosa, you don¡¯t understand. Time weathers everything. Time destroys everything.¡±

    ¡°Including you. You don¡¯t win with time, Rory. You only lose.¡±

 Power

    Rory had lived with the Vyncis'' for almost a month now. It was an easy, carefree time. He would spend his time reading from the family library¡ªquite an extensive collection, filled with actual records and history. There he learned that the Kingdom of Adringum borders Aklan to the south, the Federation to the east, and the Tellen Union to the west. It is considered a moderate power, though the role of hegemon seems to lie on the Tellen Union for now. Lands beyond there are unknown. There seems to be no Silk Road equivalent.

    He would also converse with Rosa, who had seemingly unending curiosity. He would dispense pieces of knowledge that would remain unknown for thousands of years. To his dismay, however, he noticed that she never questioned anything he said. The future leader of a clan cannot possible be so naive.

    Not all was good, however. Every meal he consumed, every bath he enjoyed, every new piece of clothing, every moment of peace stabbed into his heart. He would always think back to the orphanage, back to the days when he scrambled in the dirt. Without him, would Loria be able to handle the orphanage''s economic status?

    And yet, though he truly was a noble now, he would not send them money. He couldn''t bear to interact with them anymore; not while living luxuriously as they lived destitute lives of poverty. And perhaps, though he was even more loathe to admit it, he was still afraid. Afraid that they would trace the money back to him, and somehow, someway, his pleasant dream will turn to nightmare. Afraid that he would wake up, back in that room, deep down within the earth. Afraid of that insidious cracking noise, as the hammer fell down, down, down...

    Today, Rory was lazing on his bed when he heard the clacking of horses coming down the road. Soon, knocking followed. The Vyncis seemed to have visitors today. Silently, he crept out of his room and over to the staircase, where he peered down at the first floor. He could see someone come in. He had a stocky build. Gold curls ran down his head, framing a pair of piercing blue eyes. He motioned towards one of the family servants, who quickly scuttled off, coming back with a visibly disturbed Rosa. Her head down, she followed him out. Then, someone else came in. Wait, I know that guy... His heart began racing; it was him, that damned noble who started all of this.

    Unfortunately for Rory, he noticed his gaze and began walking up the stairs towards him. Rory controlled his instincts, that is, to run away as fast as he could, as that would no doubt be shameful as a member of the Vyncis family.

    "It seems we meet again, Rory."

    "I-it seems so."

    "Ah, did I never tell you my name? It''s Illan. Illan Tykis. And that was Myell Tydyll. Is there somewhere we may converse?"

    Nodding, Rory led him to his room.

    "Don''t be so afraid of me. Did you ever wonder who paid your bail?"

    "It was you?"

    "Of course. Without me, you''d still be down there. Well, I''d wager you''d be dead by now."

    "So you wish for me to repay me debt. Is that it?"

    "No, no. In fact, I am once again here to inform you."

    "Informing me again? Of what? Am I charged with treason this time?"

    "No, don''t be so self-centered," he said with a laugh. "It''s about Rosa. You did see her appalled little face, did you not?"

    Rory had, but Illan had shocked him into forgetting. "Go on."

    "Myell Tydyll, the principle heir of the Tydyll family. No doubt you''ve heard of the Vyncis clan''s power in the past. Now, it belongs to the Tydyll. They have extremely close ties to the King. Now, as it turns out, Myell fancies your little girl."

    "And Pier is planning on marrying her off to strengthen the family?"

    "No, not at all. He is quite against it, in fact. But with the King''s backing, the Vyncis do not have the power to oppose it."

    Rory stayed silent. Illan stood up.

    "Well, Rory, it was good meeting you. If you don''t wish to see Rosa whisked off with that brute, I suggest you stop hiding out here and gain some political clout. You should see your female Abex peer. By gods," he said, raising his hand in an overly dramatic fashion, "she could convince rain to fall upwards." Before he had completely left the room, however, he made one last remark. "Rory, I''ll give you one last piece of advice. Lorem Kywell. He''s a lordling just like you and me, but he has by far the largest spy network. Anything you want know, he knows. A powerful ally and a powerful enemy. That''s all."

    Rory just sat there for a while, watching the two carriages drive off into the distance through his window. He stood up, leaning against a wall, still as can be. Thoughts raced in his mind. Out of all the words Illan said, a few hit him particularly hard. "Stop hiding out here..." Had he been hiding? Hiding... Yes, he was hiding. Hiding from Loria, hiding from the nobles, hiding from his responsibilities to humanity. Hiding from the slow, the fast, the never-ending ticking of time, that ever so gradually inched it''s way towards humanity''s demise.

    Finally, one step at a time, he marched out his door, down the stairs, and into Pier''s office, staring his pale foster father down.

    "Rory, is something the matter?"

    "What is the extent of our connections with the guilds?"

    "Quite decent, I''d like to think."

    "Could you get me in contact with the Mathematics Guild, the Engineering Guild, and Alchemist Guild? I have something to tell them."

    "Why, of course? When do you plan on¡ª"

    "Now. I have much to tell and not much time."

    Outside the carriage door, Rory could hear the soft sputtering¡¯s of summer rain intermixed with the clacking of the horses and the creaking of the carriage itself. He leaned his head against his seat, enduring the constant bumps. "I should tell them about springs, next," he grumbled. Soon, the poor driver, completely drenched, announced that they have arrived. Nodding, Rory stepped out and into the rain, tossing a gild to the driver. In front of him was a small apartment complex, located deep within the center of the city. Its residents would seem quite poor indeed if not for the fact that they had rented out the entire building. After a few knocks, Rory escaped from rain''s wrath.

    "Good day," he said to the thin woman who welcomed him in, "I have an appointment with Lorem Kywell. Can you take me to him?"

    "Of course, my lord," she responded with a meek bow. He sighed internally; he really was getting use to this, and he hated it. She lead him to the uppermost floor, a small, cozy little room, where a sharp young man with thin, dark hair sat, awaiting him.

    Rory smiled and gave a small nod. "Good day, lord Kywell."

    "Good day, Abex Vyncis," Lorem mirrored.

    Rory took off his wet cloak, hanging it on a spare chair, and sat in front of Lorem. "I am here for business, Kywell."

    "What kind of business, Vyncis?"

    "The kind where papers are shared and knowledge exchanged. But first, a drink." Rory took out a bottle of wine, pouring some in two glasses. He drank first. "Not poisoned, my friend."

    Lorem simply smiled, picking up the glass and taking a drink himself. "Fine vintage, Vyncis. Fine vintage. Now, about business."

    "A customer should always seek a sample. What of me?"

    "Ha," Lorem laughed, "fine. I shall grant you that. You are Rory Abex Vyncis. Originally an orphan living in an orphanage, your origin is unknown. You were adopted into the Vyncis family after completing the Abex tests with a flawless score. Good enough?"

    "All the past, Kywell. All the past. What of the present?"

    "A feisty customer. Very well. You are very well known within the guilds and the intelligentsia. You introduced a new branch of mathematics, created boats fueled by fire, and light fueled by nothing. You have created a systematic procedure to predict chemical reactions. Some call you the genius of the century. You adore the Vyncis'' true daughter. Your relationship with your foster parent is good. You have an unhealed leg wound from your days on the street. Enough for your narcissism?"

    "Yes, very good. I am pleased, Kywell."

    "Why, thank you. Just know that future information will cost you. And I know you have the money."

    Rory laughed. "Kywell, I don''t think you quite understand. You will give me all the information you know and find the information you don''t know. And you will do all of this for free."

    Lorem also laughed, though his smile was twisted. "And why, Rory, would I do that?"

    "Because of this," Rory said, snapping his fingers. The wine glass Lorem was holding was suddenly the host to a burst of light, shattering the glass into several fragments.

    "W-what was that?"

    "The wine. And you drank that wine. It will never leave your system. If at any time I command it, you will die."

    Lorem, shock visible on his eyes, looked down at his stomach. "Vyncis, this... this is despicable." Rory''s reputation had its intended effect.

    "Despicable? You say that in public and the only despicable one will be the poor sap who has to clean your remains," Rory said, a sinister smile plastered on his face.

    "I-I lose. Have your way, Vyncis," he replied after a bit, shaking his head.

    "Glad you see my way. I want a bio on Myell Tydyll, and constant updates of his actions. Send them to the Vyncis residents in town." Rory stood up, grabbing his cloak. When he had finally left the building and back into his carriage, he sighed in relief. That was difficult. The actual explosion was caused by the violent reactions of alkali metals, specifically Sodium and the such, with water. A three gram sample was placed in a water-dissolving capsule constructed of sugar, which, eventually, would release the charge. All he had to do was time it properly.

    Just as he was relaxing, however, a knock came on the carriage door. In came a girl, finely dressed with a fashionable hat and soft, curling brown hair.

    "Aria, what are you doing?"

    "Just coming for a chat."

    Rory sighed. "Could you perhaps ask first, like ordinary people?"

    "You''d never answer."

    "Perhaps for a reason."

    "Oh, you don''t like me?" she said, pouting cutely.

    "Stop trying."

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "You''re no fun."

    This was Aria Abex Ayell. The alliteration was an accident. She was perhaps the most politically active of all the new Abex''s.

    "You''re the only one who hasn''t joined me, Rory."

    "And why would I join your silly meetings?"

    "You too have felt the injustice of the nobles, have you not?"

    "Maybe I have. Maybe I haven''t. In any case, I do not want to involve myself with this mess."

    "It''s not a mess. It''s a revolution."

    "Which makes it a mess."

    "No, the mess is the peasant who gets executed for touching a noble''s foot. The mess is the peasant starving while the nobles feast."

    "Aren''t you doing that?"

    "Means to an end, Rory."

    "So you''re a hypocrite. Great."

    She got closer. If Rory looked down, he would get a eyeful of cleavage. He resisted, however. "You''re a genius, Rory. You''ve done things no one ever has. With you, we can do it. Come on, Rory. You can make the Vyncis family great again."

    "I''m already making them great again."

    "Why are you so resistant?"

    Rory sighed, looking at his leg. "You don''t know what you''re getting yourselves into. You''re fully of spirit, but law does not run on spirit. It runs on iron, iron and blood." Thank you, Bismarck.

    "I never knew you were such a conservative."

    "You may consider me a conservative, if by conservative you mean one who conserves their life."

    Aria stared at Rory with puppy dog eyes, looking dejected. Finally, she gave up. "Fine, Rory. I give," she said, leaning back.

    "...shall you not leave?"

    "What, I just want a chat."

    "There are plenty others to chat with. You are endowed with admirers."

    "And yet, their admiration is the least of my wants."

    "I admire you greatly."

    "Very funny, Rory."

    For a while, they just sat in silence, listening the bustle of the streets.

    "Where are you headed?"

    "The Carpentry guild."

    "Oh? What magic are bringing you now?"

    "This," he said, holding up a cloth bag.

    "And what does it do?"

    "Concrete. Mix it with water and it will later solidify into a waterproof solid."

    "So you have created liquid rock?"

    "Essentially." Though I didn''t create it. Thank the Romans.

    Aria sighed, staying silent for a while. "Don''t you ever think of them?"

    "Them?"

    "The others."

    Rory paused, but quickly regained his composure. "If I were to think about every child who has failed the Abex Test then my mind would no doubt explode."

    Aria smiled. "Smaller scale, then. Surely you had friends?"

    "They have not disappeared. I can always visit. Bring gifts, impress them."

    "And have you?"

    Rory stayed silent this time.

    "Neither have I," Aria said, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around herself. "I was always afraid... afraid of rejection."

    "You won''t be one of them anymore."

    "Indeed. They''ll greet me, they''ll take my gifts, they''ll admire my clothes, but they won''t think I''m human anymore. Just another monster." She paused for a minute. "Does that make me a coward, Rory?"

    "Yes, yes it does. We''re all cowards, in the end."

    "So blunt," she commented with a sad smile. "Maybe that''s why I like you."

    "Oh? I''ve heard the number of your potential suitors exceeds twenty."

    "Just more monsters."

    "And I''m not one?"

    She didn''t answer. "I''m tired, Rory. Tired of it all. Tired of talking to monsters with masks, tired of being a masked monster. Tired of talking in circles, tired of trusting noone."

    "Being an Aristocrat isn''t all fun and games after all."

    "No, no it''s not. But I didn''t join to have fun. I joined to change the world."

    "Such lofty goals."

    "And I don''t plan on stopping. But sometimes, I just want to curl up and talk to someone, no masks, no lies, no filters. Just words and emotions, like I use to."

    "And that person is me?"

    "I suppose so," she said, looking down at herself. "What I mess I am. I apologize, Rory." She stood up, preparing to leave. Before she leapt out the door, she gave one last look back. "Farewell, Rory. We shall meet again. Oh yes, you will go to my party, will you not?"

    Rory sat in the carriage, alone now, listening to the rain outside. He touched his face. "Masks and monsters, huh?"

    "Dressing up, huh? A rare sight indeed. Cute dress, though."

    "What are you doing?" an indignant Rosa complained.

    "Just strolling around. Your door is open, to be fair."

    "Oh. Sorry, I am yet unused to living with someone other than my father."

    "Apology accepted."

    "Thank you. Could you, perhaps, leave?"

    Rory turned around. "Good enough?"

    "No, not... fine, I don''t care anymore."

    "So, what begets such a special occasion?"

    Rosa sighed. "I have a social engagement."

    "Oh, with whom?"

    "No one in particular. It''s a ball."

    "Myell Tydyll."

    "How do you know?" she said, slightly shocked.

    "I have my sources."

    "Oh?"

    "You don''t like him, do you?"

    "I-It''s not that..."

    "Your face does not lie, unlike the rest of us."

    She looked down. "So be it. I don''t."

    "Do you truly not?"

    "Truly."

    "Alright, good enough," he said, closing the door. "By the way, I had this lock specially sent from the Engineer''s guild."

    "Lock? Wait, no!" she said, racing to the door. True to his words, the handle would not budge. "Rory, damn it!"

    Rosa dealt with, Rory hobbled down to the first floor, awaiting his guest. Soon enough, he could hear the door open and the servants panic.

    "Good day, my lord Tydyll."

    "Good day, Abex Vyncis. Where is Rosa?"

    "Not here, unfortunately."

    Myell looked around. "Really now?"

    "Really."

    Myell walked closer to Rory, his large frame casting a shadow that engulfed the entirety of Rory''s body. "I believe you should begin telling the truth."

    "Your family does a great deal of trading with both the Engineering guild and the Alchemist''s guild."

    "And you have influence, huh? Don''t get over yourself, Abex."

    "Just a reminder, that is all."

    Myell unlinked his sword''s sheath from his belt. Rory began to finger the area next to Chronos; he hadn''t used it almost a year, but...

    "You politicians can dance your game, leave me out of it. Money is power, influence is power. But real power comes in force. All the money, all the friends in the world can''t save you when an army is against your throat."

    "Force? I have force as well." His fingers crept closer to Chronos'' button.

    "Enough force to give you that leg?" Myell sneered.

    Rory froze; had he forgotten? Lay low and fight indirectly. He stared at his leg: this was what happened with Chronos last time. Would it happen again? And what was he gaining from this? Saving Rosa a few unwanted trips? From what he had learned of Adringum courting culture, he could only actually marry her when he had her father''s permission, and Pier won''t be giving him that any time soon.

    "Damn invalid thinks he can command me."

    Rory could see the sheathe raise itself higher and higher, just like before. Only, when his mind ordered his body to activate Chronos, nothing happened. His finger refused to move. He could only watch it descend, until finally, it struck his face. He toppled onto the ground, his balance already poor to begin with.

    "Where is she?"

    "Right here," Rosa said from atop the stairs, looking as dignified as she could.

    "How did you¡ª" Rory groaned, but was silenced by another strike.

    She began walking down. "If you would please, give us some time. I shall be with you immediately."

    "As you wish, my lady," Myell said, giving a slight bow and walking out.

    Rosa sighed, kneeling next to Rory. "What are you doing?"

    He laughed sheepishly. "I... I''m not sure anymore."

    "You''re a fool, you know that?"

    He touched his cheek. "Indeed. How did you escape?"

    "Doorknobs unlock from inside. I''m not that stupid, though you may be."

    "Sorry."

    "You know the situation, no?"

    "Yes. The Tydyll family has strong ties with the king. We don''t."

    "If I can get close to Myell¡ª"

    "But if you get married¡ª"

    "No one ever said anything about marriage. I can... I can just string him along for a bit. Keep the family safe. We can''t get married until father agrees."

    "I suppose," Rory said, sighing.

    Rosa smiled. "When I asked you to invent new technologies, I didn''t really expect you to do so."

    "I do not lie."

    "Yet you lie on the ground right now." She stood up, gathering her skirts. "Don''t worry about me, Rory. I can manage for now," she said, turning to walk away.

    Rory just laid there on the ground for a bit, before he heard footsteps behind him.

    "Rory, I had not told you the whole truth."

    "Pier."

    "The Vyncis suffer, not from fertility, but from resolve. It is something that you do not have, and I do not have," he said, sighing.

    Rory stayed silent.

    "My son beaten and my daughter stolen from underneath my very own roof. I am pathetic." He paced forward. "Out of all the Vyncis, only Rosa seems to have resolve. The gods are not kind with us. I do not blame you. I cannot; I am far weaker."

    Rory stood up.

    "Pathetic," Pier repeated. "Pathetic."

 Resolve

    Does anyone have a particular preference over indents? I use them out of traditions, but I am not entirely sure they are appropriate for a forum.

    Familiar stones and buildings began to appear as Rory strolled down a street that he had many times walked through. He was without his cloak now; incognito, if you would. A turn here and turn there; his fleet flew with familiarity. He had, in his hands, a few bags, some filled with fine food, some filled with gild. They were all, however, impossible treasures to the people that lived here.

    He wondered what Loria would think of him now, a full blown noble with a net worth significantly higher than the sum of all the inhabitants of this entire sector. She would laugh, maybe tease him a bit. He would tell Gilas of some stories, give Sarra a bow. They wouldn''t abandon him, treat him as a stranger. There''s no way; that''s impossible, right?

    It was just past this corner¡ªhis home for more than a year. There were people there; people who wouldn''t hurt him. People who would appreciate him.

    And yet, as he turned the corner, he saw nothing. No building. No ruins. Nothing. Just empty ground. He stumbled forward, his mouth agape. He dropped his bags and fell onto his knees, staring up at the empty space as if the old broken building would suddenly reappear. He noticed a man walking down the alley.

    "Sir, sir, sir!"

    "What is it?" he grumbled.

    "W-what happened to the residents here?"

    "Oh, the orphanage?"

    "Yes, yes! The orphanage, what happened!?"

    The man rolled his eyes. "Bloody fools, living in that building. Could¡¯ve crumbled any minute."

    ¡°No, don''t tell me¡ª!"

    "No, they didn''t die. At least not from the building."

    "Where are they, then?"

    "Some noble bloke came over and bought the land, leveled it out. Said it was a matter of public safety. God knows where they went. Probably came with the building."

    "Oh."

    "If that¡¯s all, then I''ll be goin''," he said as he turned around and walked away. Rory ignored him.

    Resolve, huh. Resolve. If only he had come earlier, he could buy the land. He could let them stay. No, he could give them a better home. Resolve. And yet, he didn''t. He waited, hiding in comfort while his friends starve, squandering his time. Now they''re gone. It was much too late now.

    He felt a hand fall on his shoulder, but he didn''t respond. Just kept staring at the empty space where the orphanage use to be.

    "Rory?" a familiar voice whispered.

    "Go away, Aria."

    She sat down next to him. "I thought you''d be here." She looked up into the sky. "Finally worked up my nerve today as well," she said with a sad chuckle. "They''re not here, are they?"

    "...no, they''re not."

    She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Neither were mine. All lost, apparently. Too late, too late. Too late to do anything. Did you bring those for them," she said, pointing towards the bags.

    "...yes, I did. Not much to do with them now. May as well bury them."

    "Bury them?"

    "It''s something we use to do back where I use to live. A memorial of sorts."

    Suddenly, the bags were snatched away by a brown blur. Rory turned his head, stumbling forwards. "Hey, get back here!" he yelled. When the dust settled, however, he saw a short kid, younger than he was, stained with dirt and wracked with hunger. "That''s mine, you damn brat!"

    "B-but¡ª"

    "But nothing! I need those!"

    "Y-you said you were going to bury them, right?"

    "Yes, and what of it?"

    "I-I''m hungry."

    "Go to one of those provincial kitchen''s, then. I''ve personally set one up."

    "There''s food there, but it doesn''t actually get to us. The stronger kids take it for themselves. The other kids have to work for them, steal, or find someone to live with."

    Those words sliced through Rory''s mind, hot and painful, for in his memory, a very familiar scene played out, with a dirty young orphan stealing from protesting noblemen... He couldn''t accept it; no, there''s no way, he couldn''t have...

    Someone else appeared from around the corner.

    "I recognize you¡ªyou''re those new Abex''s, aren''t you? You noblemen are all alike," he spat out.

    "B-but¡ªwe were just like you!"

    "Oh, and you think you know how we feel? You''ve been in this world for no more than two decades; I''ve lived in this hell hole for six. And my children will too. And their children. We don''t have that kind of smarts, and we certainly don''t have the time to give them fancy educations. We need to eat, and eat now."

    "I... I..." Rory wasn''t sure what to think anymore.

    Having enough of it, Aria stood up, throwing a gild at both of them. "I suggest you both leave now."

    Surprised, they stared blankly and then left.

    The skies darkened, the stones around them gradually grew spotted, a thunderous cry coming from the sky. Neither of them budged, however.

    "Aria... I..."

    "Yes?"

    "Such a fool... I came here to find comfort, yet only found nothing," he said, staring at the empty space once again. "A nothing that reflected just how ugly I am."

    "If you''re ugly, then I''m hideous."

    "Aria, am I a monster masking a human... or a human masking a monster?"

    Aria shook her head. "That''s your decision." She looked up, feeling the rain drip down her face. It was increasing in intensity.

    "I''ve lost everything, Aria. I''ve lost my past, I''ve lost my will, I''ve lost my humanity."

    "Perfect," Aria said, smiling. "A perfect opportunity to gain a new life, a new will, a new humanity. There''s nothing like starting from scratch." Water torrented downwards from the sky, loud enough to force them both to speak with more volume.

    "Do I have time, though?"

    "Strike when the iron is hot, Rory."

    He chuckled sadly. "That''s how I got this leg."

    "No, you struck too early."

    "Then when the hell do I strike?"

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "Don''t let time have its way, but don''t fight time either. Control it."

    "Control it?"

    "Flow with it. When you see an opportunity arise, take it. Do not force it. And do not wait."

    Rory stared up at the sky, his hair hang wet behind him. "Thank you."

    "Of course, Rory. Anything for you." Slowly, she began to walk away, but not before turning around for a few last words. "By the way, Rory," Aria said with a wink, "you are still coming to my party, are you not?"

    The carriage plodded along, down into the heart of Adringum. Inside were two finely dressed adolescents: a short young man with blackish hair, and an even shorter young lady with rosy blonde hair.

    "That Aria, what is she thinking," Rory grumbled.

    "What is wrong with a party? Social gatherings are not rare, Rory."

    "No, it''s not about the party, it''s about when she brought it up. I was busy being emo and melodramatic, and there she goes, toting about her party."

    "Emo?" a confused Rosa asked. "What does that mean?"

    "Context clues, my lady."

    "Who ruffled your feathers?"

    "Aria did! Bloody hell, I told the engineers about springs, what''s so hard about attaching them to frame?" he complained, his head being bumped quite a few times into the walls of the carriage.

    "Springs?"

    "Never mind."

    The carriage came to a stop.

    "We''ve arrived, my lord and lady."

    They walked out and into the Ayell gardens, which, for tonight, was a mystical amalgamation of gentle floating lights.

    "Do you know who supplied her with those?"

    "You did."

    "That is correct. It''s a chemical fluorescence; no fires, no heat. Perfectly safe."

    Rosa just sighed and started to walk forward. Before they managed to get very far, however, another lording greeted them.

    "Vyncis, Vyncis. Good evening."

    "Same to you, Illan."

    "Ah, Rory, I have something to discuss with you, if you would excuse me, Ms. Vyncis."

    ¡°Huh?¡± Rory asked, confused.

    ¡°Important information.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Important information,¡± he repeated, emphasizing important.

    Rosa nodded. "That is fine with me, Tykis."

    "Thank you," he said, dragging Rory away.

    Alone, now, Rosa walked into the main area of the party, where numerous lords and lordlings were socializing.

    "Hello, father."

    "Ah, good to see you, my dear," Pier said, standing up from his seat.

    "The decorations look very nice, don''t they?"

    "Beautiful. It was made by Rory, you know."

    Rosa giggled. "I think I know well enough by now."

    "Oh, was he boasting?"

    "All throughout the carriage ride."

    Pier brought his hand up to his chin. "Curious, now. I''ve never heard a pip from him. Had to ask one of my associates to even know."

    Rosa tilted her head, curious. "Really? He seems to boast plenty enough."

    "If you were to ask ten of his friends, I believe ten of them would tell you that he is perfectly modest."

    "How strange, then."

    "Ah," Pier laughed, "enough of this. It''s no good to speak of people behind their backs. The music has started, my dear. Would you be kind enough to lend me your first dance?"

    "Of course, father."

    Rosa never liked dancing. She was always a little too short to keep up with the other dancers and their long strides. Moreover, she never had that many dance partners. She was considered ''cute'', not ''beautiful''. A girl, not a lady. Myell''s fascination didn''t help, as he usually scared away everyone else. She hadn''t seen him today, though, which was strange, since she knew he came. After Pier, she danced with three other people, mostly of courtesy.

    Suddenly, as she was resting, everything moved away from her, forming a sort of bubble. Confused, she looked around, only to find the source straight ahead of her: Myell, in a cloak lined with gold, strutting straight towards her.

    "Tydyll. G-good afternoon," she said, curtseying.

    "Rosa, my dear. Today is the day."

    She laughed nervously. It couldn''t be... "The day for what, my lord?"

    He dropped to a knee. "Rosa, will you marry me?"

    She froze. "But¡ª¡°

    "We are all children of the King, Rosa. He has granted me permission."

    "...can you do that?" she asked, desperate.

    "The King and his advisers have agreed," he replied gravely. Well, of course they agreed!

    She didn''t know what to do¡ªher entire plan was based on fatherly refusal, but he had found a loophole. She couldn''t refuse; it was for the good of the family, so that Pier could live his last days in peace, so Rory could tinker around without obstruction.

    "I-I..."

    She was interrupted by a character, hobbling straight towards her, ignoring the de facto social barrier that surrounded them.

    "Why, fancy meeting you here, Rosa."

    "R-rory? What are you doing?" she asked, confused.

    "Abex Vyncis," an angry Myell trying but failing to control his temper asked, "what are you doing?"

    "Oh, I just have something to tell Rosa."

    She noticed veins pulsing in Myell''s forehead.

    "Speak, then. Speak and be gone."

    Rory theatrically turned towards Rosa, giving melodramatic bow. The entire crowd sat silent, waiting for the words that propelled him to break all concepts of social etiquette. She noticed the hostess of the party, Aria Ayell, and Illan Tykis standing near the edges, a hint of excitement in their eyes.

    Rory smiled as large a smile as he could, getting on his knees.

    "Rosa, I love you. Marry me."

    "...huh!?"

 Tit for Tat

    Gasps, laughter, and applause rang out around her. Myell''s proposal was expected; this one was not. Rosa herself was still too shocked to reply. His face already in close proximity, Rory managed to whisper to her. "Just leave it to me. I''ve done too much of nothing recently. They¡¯ll rescind my hero credentials," he joked. She didn''t even notice Aria scuttling over, grabbing her by the shoulders and drawing her back away from her two suitors in the center.

    "My, my, you truly are a popular one," Aria sighed.

    She was safely out of the way now, though not too far that she couldn''t watch the proceedings.

    "Rory Abex Vyncis," Myell spat, emphasizing each word, "what is the meaning of this?"

    Rory just smirked. "What, I am simply declaring my love."

    "I have permission¡ª!"

    "Permission, permission," Rory mocked, "what, are you some kind of five year old? Boo hoo, daddy gave me permission."

    "The laws state¡ª!"

    "Just so you know, I also have permission. From her true father." He looked towards Pier, who, after getting over his shock, gave a kindly nod. This only served to further enrage Myell.

    "Do you understand what you''ve done, Abex?" he sneered.

    "Yes. Since we have equal claims, the winner shall be decided by combat."

    Myell tossed back his cloak, revealing his sword. "Do you have some sort of mental issue, invalid?"

    "Perhaps I do. My parents always told me not to bully the weak, but here I am. Alas," he sighed in mock regret.

    "I am going to fucking kill you."

    "Does the fucking come before or after?¡±

    "Are you ready, Abex?"

    "When am I not?"

    Rosa pushed herself towards the front. "Stop, stop, he''s not even armed!" she screamed, but to no avail. Everyone was too busy watching.

    Myell drew his blade, a long, slender piece of steel, weighted equally on both sides, just as he had always preferred. He dashed forward, his sword glittering from the lights. Rory simple stood there, one hand on his cane, watching with an amused smile. The result seemed clear to everyone, but just before his sword managed to reach Rory''s flesh, something strange happened. Everyone felt a chill, their vision hazy as if the world itself had stuttered.

    Rory was still standing there, but he held in his other hand Myell''s sword, and Myell himself was laid flat on the ground, blood beginning to drip from his forehead. What in the world happened? In the blink of an eye, Myell was disarmed and dispatched.

    Rory started to walk forward towards Myell. When he had reached him, he looked down with a satisfied face, and began to shove his wounded foot, still encased in a make-shift cast, at Myell''s face.

    "Do you think this leg would keep me pussyfooting around forever?"

    Myell groaned, trying to turn his face away.

    "I don¡¯t need money, and I don¡¯t need influence to kick your sorry ass."

    At this point, Myell gave up, simply waiting for the ordeal to be over.

    "I don¡¯t give two shits about who you¡¯re friends with," he announced with a final kick. He impaled Myell¡¯s sword into the ground a hair¡¯s width away from his nose. "Bother me again and I shall kill you, invalid.¡±

    Someone came running from the crowds with a cry of, ¡°My lord Tydyll!¡±. He didn¡¯t make it far, however, before he was toppled from a strike of Rory¡¯s cane.

    ¡°Don¡¯t. Let him feel what true pain feels like.¡±

    The crowd parted away from him as he proceeded, partly out of fear and partly out of respect. He saw Pier nod towards him.

    "I seems I was wrong, Rory. May there be hope for the Vyncis at last," he said with a chuckle.

    "The King must despise us now."

    "To hell with the King."

    The next one was Aria. "Your magic has truly surprised me this time."

    "Oh, what did you expect?"

    "I expected him to randomly explode or catch alight. But this is far more elegant. Good luck!" she said, parting with a wink.

    Illan walked up.

    "I don''t even know what you are; friend or foe?"

    Illan smiled. "Why not both?"

    Finally, the one this had all been orchestrated for: Rosa, who was standing at the back, arm''s crossed, head turned away. Rory knelt in front of her.

    "I''ve won."

    "So I''ve heard," she said, her head still turned away. "And now I am to marry you."

    "So it goes."

    "The King will be displeased."

    "Who cares."

    "Am I not too small?"

    "No smaller than I."

    "Too childish?"

    "No younger than I, either."

    "My hand is forced, then," she said with a sigh.

    Rory shook his head. "No, no it'' s not. A simple betrothal will do, for protection. You can cancel it later, if you wish."

    She turned her head now. "What? But you¡ª"

    "No one should dare ask for your hand if you are betrothed to me. A betrothal is, however, easily rescinded. I know you don''t like the idea of marriage. Important decisions should not be made hastily."

    "...time wears all things. You don''t win against time," she mumbled.

    "Huh?"

    "Do I have to repeat myself? You don''t win against time," she yelled, indignant.

    "Did... did I do something wrong," he asked, perplexed.

    "You idiot! I accept, damn it," she said, blushing. "I-if we wait... then things could change. There''s no telling of what will happen in the future."

    There was a pause, and then then the space was filled with thunderous applause, which only caused Rosa to blush further. The crowd was ecstatic: David had beaten Goliath, and the Knight has rescued the Princess. It was a romantic''s dream come true, and there was no lack of romantic''s among the nobles.

    "Ladies and Gentlemen," Aria announced, having somehow climbed atop the speaking platform in the chaos, "we shall conclude this party with a demonstration created by our very own new, fully fledged Vyncis!" She motioned towards some people in the back.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Rosa turned curiously towards Rory. "A demonstration?"

    "Remember when you asked If I could create stars?" he asked, standing up and staring into the night sky.

    "Yes?"

    He turned towards her, waiting for cracking sound that would signal the start of the show. "I do not lie."

    Behind him, dozens of streaks of light raced their way up the sky, reaching their apex with a dazzling blast, releasing brilliant remnants, far brighter than any star. The crowd was too awestruck to react; they had never seen anything of the sort, before.

    "We use to call them fireworks," he said, turning to look at his handiwork. Even if they¡¯re not real stars, the concept behind fireworks was what let us truly make stars.

    "Rory?"

    "Yes?"

    "Thank you."

    He smiled a smile that had not appeared on his face for a long time; a genuine smile, with no malice, no hidden meanings. A smile that only held happiness. He sighed. "Just one last loose end."

    Hours later, in a sector of town far, far away from the dazzling fireworks, two lordlings were taking a night stroll, a small squadron of city guards behind them.

    "You are sure it was over here?"

    "Of course, Rory. Should not you remember the best?"

    Rory sighed. "I wasn''t very particularly lucid after that ordeal."

    "It''s that one," Illan said, pointing at a vaguely familiar building.

    "It seems to ring a bell."

    They approached the building, their cloaks fluttering in the chilly night wind, causing most of the locals to scatter away in fear. Illan reached for the door.

    "Stop," Rory ordered, taking a deep breath. "It is my duty, not yours."

    "As you say," Ilan said, backing off.

    Rory knew it would do no good to wait, so he quickly opened the door. Light shone through the door, along with the smell of alcohol, urine, and blood. It was a bit too familiar to Rory, though he forged through none the less. A man was slumped over his desk, lightly swinging a bottle of wine. Noticing his guests, he grumbled out a, "Who the hell are you?" before taking a better look. "O-oh, my lords, what gives me the pleasure of¡ª"

    Rory walked over, putting on his most insidious smile. "You''re arrested."

    "Huh?"

    "Imprisonment and abuse of minors."

    "Huh?"

    "Are there any other exits?"

    "N-no, my lord. What did you say about arresting me, again?"

    Rory ignored him. "Leave someone to guard the door. Sweep the complex. Let no one escape," he ordered, motioning towards the squadron of guards. "Oh yes, if you see a stocky man, brown hair, stupid mustache, bring him to me."

    A few dozen minutes later, a small parade of drunken men were being escorted out the door and to another, adult jail. Rory watched intently, looking for one man in particular, while Illan stood next him, looking a bit exasperated. Finally, Rory motioned towards one of them, and the guard brought him forward.

    "Do you recognize me?"

    "Of course not, my lord. How could I, a mere¡ª"

    "Look at my leg," Rory interrupted. "Look at it. Ring a bell."

    The man''s face changed at once, from fearful to abject horror. "No, n-no way. But, but¡ª"

    "Who''s the one being arrested now, huh?"

    "Mercy, please. I didn''t mean to, I was drunk¡ª"

    "Yeah, suck it," Rory said, sticking out his tongue, growing more and more juvenile. "Get REKT''D by karma. GG no re. 1v1 me, bitch. Oh wait, you''re in jail. Too bad." Rory took a deep breath after that. "Man, it was good to get that out. You all speak like a bunch of wannabe posh assholes. Take him away," he said with a wave. The man was marched out, his fate unknown.

    "So, what shall you do with all of the children in here?"

    "Release them. If they need financial or medical assistance, I''ll provide it. If they want to go back to their friends and families, they can feel free to."

    Illan chuckled. "No more hesitation, huh?"

    "No, no more of that. It feels like I''m finally free."

    "A free Rory? My, the world trembles."

    "Very funny."

    Illan looked around for a bit. "You should go back now, Rory. The men can handle all of that."

    "I suppose," he answered.

    "You are a newly-wed, after all. Shouldn''t keep her waiting all night."

    "Illan, the actual wedding won''t be for a bit."

    "You can still keep her company. Non-sexually."

    Rory laughed. "Well, it''s not a bad idea. Are you not leaving?"

    Illan shook his head. "A carriage is coming in a bit. Just leave me here."

    "Sure," Rory said, turning to leave.

    When Illan was sure he was alone, he sighed. "Well, he most certainly was rekt''d. You could even say he was tyrannosaurus rekt''d," he commented with a sad chuckle. We don''t have much time, Rory. Sorry. He reached into his tunic, carrying out a bag of gold. He motioned towards one of the guards. "Say, let my men handle the children, and I''ll throw in a little bonus." He shook the bag a little, causing the coins to clink and clang. He could see the gears turning in the guard''s head.

    An hour later at the Tykis residents, nearly twenty little heads looked up at Illan, dressed in rags and mostly covered in dried blood.

    "Do you know who saved you? Me? No, it was not me. Remember his name well: it was Rory Vyncis, heir to the Vyncis estate. You all wish to repay your debt, yes? Yes? Good, good. Don''t worry, I''m uncle Illan, and I''ll train you all to be absolutely perfect. Just listen to your big brother and sister over there..."

    --

    This marks the end of the backlog, and therefore the end of daily updates as well. The next section will feature war, because what better to spark creativity than the mass extinction of human life?

 Return

    In Adringum''s most famed restaurant, two men and lordling were sitting, enjoying a meal.

    "You''ve heard my proposal, no?"

    "Of course, lord Vyncis."

    "It is quite favorable, and yet you abstain. Why?"

    "I¡ªwe," he fixed, looking over at his partner, "¡ªmerely wish to inquire why you wish to purchase three iron mines."

    "You know my projects, yes? Some of them require iron."

    "Of course. And a project that requires more than 40,000 kilograms of iron a year must be quite grand. You see what we are hinting at?"

    Rory sat back, locking his hands together in his best bond villain impression. "You wish to invest."

    They bowed. "With your approval."

    Rory sighed. "I am sorry, but I must refuse."

    "Why is that, lord Vyncis?"

    "I have my reasons. In any case, it is absolutely confidential."

    "That is fine, my lord. We are merely investing; we have no interest in the product."

    "Unfortunately, there is no legal basis for this. I am obligated to present any investors the full details of my project.  I am afraid I cannot allow it over a vocal agreement."

    "Vyncis, you must know as a fellow businessman, you must always strive for growth. We are stagnating. A share of one of your future ventures¡ª"

    "You can have a share in another project."

    One of the men leaned in. "None of them have ever been this massive. We are looking to win, Vyncis, not just profit."

    "Alright," Rory began, but was interrupted by another lordling, his hair similarly black. "Kywell? I am a little preoccupied right now," he said, agitation clear in his voice.

    "I have important information."

    Information so important he would go himself? "Wait just a minute," he said, turning towards the two men. "Two million gild for your mines. Last offer, I''ll leave the agreement here. Sign and have it sent to the Vyncis estate." Rory stood up. "Kywell, let''s find a more secure location.

    Lorem nodded and lead him out of the restaurant and into an alley. He brought out a piece of parchment and two pens. Rory''s face grew serious. He took a pen and waited for Lorem to begin.

    Very confidential. Don''t tell. Will get me killed. Only tell you because threat.

    What is it?

    Hellbram meet Aklan. Plan invasion.

    Invasion of where?

    Adringum.

    What?

    Aklan border Vyncis land. They wipe you out.

    Does he hate me that much?

    He has always disliked the Vyncis. You final straw. Plan coming along. Will invade in likely a few months.

    He will lose land.

    People in southern Adringum very poor, don''t pay much tax. Not worth.

    People will hate him.

    People will hate Vyncis.

    Does Pier know?

    No. Must leave, suspicious.

    Rory nodded and followed him out, immediately calling a carriage and ordering it to bring him to the Vyncis estate. Thoughts raced through his mind; I didn''t piss him off that much, did I? What I even supposed to do? Obviously the King''s armies will be conveniently late, so I can''t rely on that. I could ask some other families for troops, but most of them will be pressured by Hellbram to wait. Just the Vyncis armies, I suppose. I hope we have a big one. Will I have to introduce guns? I was avoiding this... Soon, he had arrived. He jumped out and ran into the mansion, racing towards the second door of the first floor, where a surprised Pier was waiting for him.

    "Rory? Whatever could it be?"

    "We need a safe place to talk. Now."

    "Here, then?"

    Rory shook his head. "No. Absolutely no one must hear."

    "Even Rosa?"

    "She doesn''t need to be involved.. Do you have a safe room?"

    "I do indeed. Follow me," he said, rising. He proceeded to walk down several halls, turn at least five times, and at one point double back before they reached their destination, a gray, drab room, god knows where in the mansion. "We should be fine. Now, what is it that is so urgent?"

    Rory took a breath. "King Hellbram is working with Aklan to invade our land."

    "That''s preposterous¡ª! No, you wouldn''t lie. Not about this. Is your source credible?"

    Rory nodded. "About as credible as can be."

    "There are many problem''s here," Pier said, beginning to pace. "First of all, that must mean that he is absolutely committed to killing us off. Even if we survive the invasion, it will not end until one of us is finished."

    "But first, we need to survive."

    "Yes, of course." He sighed. "He has timed this very well..."

    "What do you mean?"

    Pier shook his head. "Sorry, Rory, but I cannot lead the army. I am bound to the capital this year."

    "Wait, why?"

    "King''s policy. The head of each noble family must stay in the capital for alternating years. It''s a way of keeping power over us."

    Rory sighed. "I had hoped to stay here."

    "I had hoped that as well," Pier agreed. "You''ve earned love from both the workers and the intelligentsia. Do you have military training?"

    "No. Actually yes, but I do not believe it is applicable."

    "You see, we don''t have any officers anymore."

    "Excuse me?"

    "You''re all we have in terms of commanders."

    "What of our army?"

    "It doesn''t exist."

    "How does that happen!? How did we get the land in the first place?"

    "Our personal forces were mostly disbanded. We will need to call a new militia force."

    "What happened to the officers?"

    "The lower officer''s and NCO''s went back to their homes. The generals," he said, grimacing, "are dead now. Don''t ask how."

    Rory stared him down. "I need to know how."

    Pier stared back. Finally, he relented. "Alright. Fine. The higher officers were all members of the Vyncis family. They died in the war against Aklan a few decades back."

    "The war against Aklan?"

    "You should know some of it. In fact, it''s a very similar situation now. Aklan seemingly randomly decided to attack us. That time, we not only pushed them back, but we gained a significant amount of land."

    "At the cost of most of the family?"

    Pier sighed. "Unfortunately. Indeed, that may have been the King''s doing as well. We never thought he would actually..."

    "So now I have to call up a draft for a militia and assemble an army capable of fighting a prepared Aklan offensive in a few months?"

    "They''re invading in a few months!?" he exclaimed, his face growing dark. "I thought we had a year at least."

    Rory shook his head. "A few months. They must have been planning this for a while now, only deciding to execute now."

    "It might be best for you and Rosa to flee to another country."

    "And let the Vyncis fall?"

    "We''ve fallen for a while now. You''ve kept us afloat, but there''s no reason¡ª"

    "No. I''m not losing something else. Besides, I have some tricks up my sleeve."

    Pier laughed. "Oh, yes. I had forgotten who I was talking to. Well, boy, you''ll need all the magic you can muster for this one."

    "Don''t worry, I have plenty. I''ll be departing right away. There''s no time to lose."

    "Good luck, lad. If you need advice, send me a letter."

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Rory marched out of the mansion, immediately beginning to arrange transportation. Should he ride incognito or bring a full procession? On one hand, riding alone would be faster. On the other hand, he needs troops, and he needs to advertise himself. A full procession would be better for that. He decided to balance the two, bringing the best carriage he had, headed towards Sym, the local Vyncis capital, at a gentle trot. He would make it in roughly two days; not particularly fast, but he could start immediately and it would look at least somewhat regal. He looked back at the Mansion¡ªhe hadn''t told Rosa, but... Pier would tell her later. Besides, she would probably insist on going. It was for the best.

    It had been nearly two hours on the road, and Rory had begun to nod off, his peers at the Engineering guild having finally attached his springs to the wheel axels, making the ride much more comfortable. He thought he heard some rustling coming from behind the seat opposite of his, but it was probably just the frame rubbing against some of the interior fabric. It was, however, disturbing his attempts to sleep. After nearly thirty minutes of this, he was fed up, rising with a rage and blindly sticking his hands behind the seat, hoping to find whatever loose cloth was causing the disturbance and ripping it to shreds. To his surprise, however, he felt something rounder... with more volume... did one of the dogs get in or something?

    In a drowsy stupor, he grabbed the figure and lifted it so he could see. The figure, however, gave a very un-doglike shriek when he did so, and his eyes spotted not a furry canine face, but rosey-blonde hair and dainty porcelain skin.

    "...Rosa?"

    "W-why, hello there Rory. F-fancy meeting you here," she said with a nervous chuckle.

    "Rosa."

    "Oh, well, I was having a ride, and then I fell asleep behind here."

    "Rosa."

    "Alright, alright! I saw you in a hurry so I hid myself here beforehand." Her eyes were beginning to tear up. "Let me stay, please? Please?"

    Rory just stared at her.

    "Please? Please?"

    Rory sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Fine."

    "Woo!"

    "Just so you know, I''m going to dangerous places."

    "What is life without danger?"

    "No, really, Rosa. This is serious."

    "I can handle myself. Probably."

    Rory sighed again.

    "So... what is going on, again?"

    "I''ll tell you on the way. We''ve got plenty of time," he said, looking out at the foliage.

    The carriage was rolling itself into Sym, the municipal capital. Despite only being a few hundred miles away from the national capital, the city''s rustic airs were easy to see. The roads were of poor quality, being either worn cobblestone or simply packed dirt. Little stone huts with thatched roofs dotted the land. And, of course, standing above it all, on a mighty hill overlooking the land, stood the true Vyncis palace, a majestic stone building that contrasted harshly with the surrounding land.

    Rory looked outside the window, being careful not to move too much and disturb Rosa, who was sleeping on his shoulder. At first, he thought it was just some curious peasants, but the crowd that had formed around the carriage began to grow, and their faces didn''t seem too happy. Rory wasn''t sure exactly what was going on, but didn''t seem good. He shook Rosa awake.

    "H-huh?" she asked drowsily.

    "Look outside."

    "That''s a lot of people."

    "Indeed. I''m going to go talk to them. See what they want. Wait here," he said, opening the door and poking his head out. "Hello! Good afternoon, I am Rory¡ª"

    "We know who you are! Give Rosa back!" one of them screamed.

    "Erm, excuse me? What do you mean?"

    "You''re no Vyncis! You bewitched Pier Vyncis and Rosa Vyncis! You even had the gall to take Rosa as your wife! Give her back, infidel!"

    Rosa peeked her head. "Ugh, Rory, what''s going on?"

    "No, get down, it''s dangerous¡ª"

    "See! Proof!"

    "No, wait¡ª"

    Several of them began to pick up rocks. The captain of the squadron of guards looked towards Rory for confirmation to begin suppressing them. He could see shadows closing in¡­

    "No, don''t, I need to get them to fight for me... But I need do to something..."

    "Just let me talk to them," Rosa said. "They''re afraid about me, right? I''ll just reassure them that everything is alright, and then everyone''s happy."

    "But it''s dangerous¡ª"

    "Oh, come on, Rory. You have to let me do something."

    "But¡ª"

    "Too late," she said, jumping out of the carriage in one swoop. Cries of "Rosa!" rose throughout the crowd.

    "Hey, everybody! It''s been a lot time, hasn''t it?"

    "Rosa, come back!" "That guy''s no good." "He''s been tricking you!"

    "Hey! That''s not nice. Quiet down." To Rory''s amazement, they actually did quiet down. "Rory''s a very nice guy. He''s an Abex. You know what that means, right? He''s just like you guys!"

    Unfortunately, that only fanned the flames. "We''re not worthy!" "That guy''s just dirt like us!" "I''m going to kill him!"

    "No, no, be quiet! Look, Rory''s done a lot of things for me. He saved me from an actual marriage with the Tydyll family."

    "Wait, really?" "But he''s still not a Vyncis!"

    "No, uh, he was born here! All of you are the sons and daughters of the Vyncis, right? So, uh, technically he was a Vyncis!"

    "That works, doesn''t it?" "Is that true?" "I''ve never seen him around."

    "And, uh, I actually l-love him! If you harm him you harm me!" Tears were beginning to form in her eyes.

    "You''ve made her cry, you idiots!" "We''re sorry!" "Forgive me!"

    Triumphant, Rosa returned to the carriage. "No man ever survives my tears," she said with a wink.

    Rory sighed, cupping his face with his right hand. "There are too many problems here for me to even begin... Why do they like you so much, anyway..."

    The crowds began to disperse and the carriage continued onwards toward the Vyncis mansion. Finally, they reached the great iron gates, a bit rusted after years of disuse. They got off the carriage, and began to enter the building, when suddenly, Rory saw a blade rush towards him. Not good, not good! I can''t reach Chronos in time

    The blade was deflected however, before it reached him. The culprit¡ªRory recognized him from the crowd before¡ªwas disarmed and pinned to the ground by a masked figure wearing a black uniform. Another ten black figures wearing similar uniforms pointed a variety of weapons at him¡ªswords, spears, pole arms, crossbows, bows, they had it all. They were not, however, masked, and Rory could their faces. They looked young, no only than 15. Some even looked ten. Their formation and posture were perfect, though; even Rory¡¯s untrained eyes could see that. And they had appeared from nowhere, moving seemingly faster than the eye can see.

    Rory and Rosa were pushed back, surrounded back-to-back and protected by another five of them. Rory noticed that the one in front of him was not only taller than the rest, by also had a mask on.

    "Uh, who are you?" Rory asked with a nervous chuckle.

    The culprit, now pinned on all sides by three of them, croaked out, "I-I''m just a farmer¡ª" but was interrupted by a kick to the face.

    "Erm, no, I mean you," Rory said, pointing towards the uniformed figures.

    The masked one who had pinned the poor farmer, his duty relieved by his peers, dropped to a knee, his head bowed deep in respect. "We are yours, my lord. We are the Roniceri."

 Trust

    "The Roniceri?"

    "Yes, my lord Rory."

    Rory''s eyes widened. "My lord Rory...?"

    "Yes. We serve you and you alone, my lord. We are no mutts of the Vyncis."

    "What."

    "We were all taught of your greatness, lord Rory."

    "What."

    Rory felt someone pulling on his sleeve.

    "Rory, what are you going to do about that guy?" Rosa asked.

    "Oh, yes," Rory said, snapping back into attention. He turned towards the captain of the guards he had brought. "Take him back to the village."

    "My lord? How shall we punish him?"

    "Don''t."

    "What! But, Rory, he tried to kill you!" Rosa protested.

    Rory smiled. "I have an uncomfortable amount of symphony for him," he said, pointing at this now healed leg. "Besides, I need these people to fight for me. By their own choice, hopefully. I don''t believe killing one of them will help with that."

    "Our lord is so merciful!" "How thoughtful!" "Our lord''s legendary cunning is true!"

    One of the masked ones turned towards them. "Shut up! How dare you speak so openly in front of him!"

    This is really creepy. "Uh, no, it''s okay. I don''t mind if you speak in front of me. Feel free to."

    All of them went to their knees, crying out, "Thank you, lord Rory!"

    Rory sighed, covering his face with his hand and beginning to finally enter the mansion. Why does nothing make sense out here?

    Not yet a day had passed. Rory was standing in front of the door, waiting impatiently for a guest to arrive. Bored, he turned his head towards Rosa, who was currently attempting to slide down the handrail.

    "What are you doing?"

    "I use to do this all the time."

    "How old are you again?"

    "Fifteen, now."

    "Aren''t you afraid of showing up your skirt or something?"

    "Aren''t you married to me?"

    "Not yet, technically."

    "Oh, whatever," she replied, beginning her endeavor. Rory watched her slide down, slowly at first, picking up speed as she went. He sighed and turned his head, but soon heard a shriek come from behind him. He quickly spun around, his fingers reaching for Chronos, only to see Rosa, caught by about five of the Roniceri.

    "Are you okay, my lady?"

    Rosa laughed sheepishly. "Yes, uh, yes I am."

    "Can you please not do that?" Rory sighed. "And who are you people again? Why are you in my house?"

    "We are here to protect you and your consort, my lord Rory."

    "How do you randomly appear everywhere?"

    "We are trained in the arts of stealth and tactical warfare."

    "Great, now I have a bunch of crazy ninjas who worship me. What is going on..."

    Rory heard a cough from behind him. Spinning around for the umpteenth time, he saw a sinewy old man, whatever hair left on his hair a crisp white, his flesh emancipated by age.

    "You called for me, my lord?"

    "Yes," Rory said, gesturing for the man to sit down. "From what I''ve heard, you are a sort of a local leader?"

    The old man hesitated, before sighing. "Yes, my lord. Some consider me that. But, my lord, my power originated from respect due to my age. It is nothing as concrete as your lineage."

    "What is your name?"

    "Cairn. Cairn Earls, my lord."

    "Well, Cairn, I am not punishing you. Far from it. I need advice."

    Cairn looked surprised. "Advice? From me?"

    Rory took a deep breath. "I''ll be honest here, Cairn. I need to reinstate the draft. Don''t ask why, just know that I must. And I realize from the reaction today that it may be significantly more difficult than I imagined. You are familiar with the people."

    "My lord, if you would pardon my words¡ª"

    "Don''t bother with the ''my lord''. Or the politeness. I don''t have time for it. Speak to me as you would any other person, or else I''ll have your head off."

    "A-alright. The first obstacle is you. You are a stranger to the lands and the people do not trust you. Rosa is too young and too feminine¡ªthe people love her, but they will not be willing to fight under her. If Pier was the one calling, then no doubt every man alive in at least the northern territories would be here and drilling within a week."

    "That is a problem I cannot rectify. Pier will not be coming."

    "I understand. It''s the alternate year, is it not? The second obstacle is the current state of affairs. The weather has not been kind to us. We have not had proper rainfall for months now. It is also still summer; you are asking for the men to leave the farms during their most crucial period."

    "Do you have no irrigation systems?"

    "Irrigation?"

    "Your confusion is music to my ears. I have a plan, Cairn. I need you to help me support it," Rory said, eagerly writing something on a piece of parchment.

    "What shall you do?"

    "Say, Cairn, how will the people react if suddenly they don''t need the rain anymore?"

    "What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes widening.

    "I mean water all year round. Anytime. Oh, yes, how do you plow? With what animal? Do you have fertilizer?"

    "We plow as all do, my lord."

    "Do you double over?"

    "Why, of course."

    "And with what animal?"

    "Oxen."

    "Very good, very good," Rory said, a mischievous look in his eyes. His hands danced on the parchment, words appearing as fast as his mind could hatch his new plots. "Does your land grow bad?"

    "Of course. If it would not, then we would not have spent the effort expanding."

    "What do you grow?"

    "Wheat, barley, rye primarily."

    "Any beans? Clover?"

    Cairn looked confused. "I''m not entirely sure what those are."

    "This gets better and better. Man, people were retarded."

    "''Retarded''?"

    "Don''t worry about it. Fancy noblemen language. Alright, you may go. Keep in touch with me. I''m going to go invite some friends." Rory stood up, letter in hand, the ink not yet dry. "Rosa, could you go send this to a courier?"

    "No. Do it yourself."

    Rory sighed. "Could one of you go send this to a courier?" he asked, gesturing towards to the Roniceri.

    "Of course! We would be honored to¡ª"

    "No, don''t! Don''t let him get any lazier."

    The Roniceri members were utterly confused, looking back and forth between Rory and Rosa, torn over who to follow. Rory, feeling his brain cells deteriorate by the second, waved his hand. "¡­I''ll do it..."

    Two days later, Sym, a relatively rural settlement which didn''t usually receive that many visitors, was filled by outsiders. A long chain of carts and wagons still extended from the town. The townspeople were flabbergasted, and the farmers more so. From before the sun had even risen above the horizon, men had gone to most of the farms, digging trenches and stringing along strange black string. They were met with hostility at first, but Rosa had been sent to placate the farmers, and by afternoon most of the work was done.

    Rory had called for all available persons to meet at the Plaza for announcements and an explanation. Now, he looked on over the heads of more than 1,000 people, up on the gallows. Why is the only platform available the one they hang people on anyways... No microphones yet, so he had no choice but to yell as loudly as he could.

    "Good afternoon! I am sure you have seen my men working on various parts of your farm recently. Do not be alarmed; this is all in due process. Now, though you may not know me well, know now that I am considered a great engineer in the capital. And today, I have brought many of the newest technologies to our humble abode, so that we may live fuller and more comfortable lives. Now, as I have well heard, the land is currently facing a drought. No more! You see the tunnels constructed throughout your land? Those will bring water to you."

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Gasps and murmurs filled the crowd. One brave soul managed to yell out, "How the hell did you do that?"

    "An Archimedean Screw. Water is pumped from either the river or various artesian wells I have drilled throughout the land. The pumps are powered through an electric motor¡ª"

    "Electric?"

    "Indeed! Electricity. It is energy, somewhat like fire. But it can be easily stored and used! Not even the capital knows about it. You will be the first to use it."

    Upon hearing that they would have technology more advance than even the capital, the people began to grow excited.

    "The electricity is supplied by the black wires you see extended over your land. It is generated by either the wind turbines," he yelled, pointing over at a few of the towers, "or by the water turbines at the river. And electricity can do more than that! The hand mill has been replaced by one also powered with an electric motor. You no longer need to manually move it." He briefly looked behind me; good, the sun was beginning to set. "And finally, we can do this!" he said, snapping his fingers. At once, light flooded through. "No longer will the sun limit our activity!"

    ''Ooo''s and ''Aah''s resonated around him. Rory smiled.

    "I''m not done! This," he groaned, barely lifting a giant amalgamation of steel, "is a heavy plow. You will only need to plow once with this. And no, the oxen will not be strong enough. I have supplied each household a workhorse, which has enough strength and stamina to use one of these. Treat him well."

    "Who''s paying for them?"

    "Why, I am, of course. Your taxes will be unaffected. More to come throughout the weeks!"

    "Then why are you doing it?"

    Rory blinked. "As a Vyncis, I feel it''s necessary to improve the lives of my subjects."

    "Why haven''t you even come here before, then? Why now?"

    Why hadn''t he come here? Too preoccupied, he supposed. Too distracted. Independent power, the kind of power that forms empires and rules nations, comes from people. They, after all, make up the army. But he had forgotten about why he needed that power. Forgotten about why he was here in the first place. It certainly wasn''t to play Aristocrat cum businessman.

    "I... I suppose I haven''t the time," he managed to squeeze out. He looked out at the thousands of faces staring at him. From now on, I''ll make time.

    Night had fallen on the land. Tired after his oratory, Rory was lounging in one of the hearth rooms. He noticed a few shadows in his room.

    "Come out."

    The two masked Roniceri appeared in front of him, kneeling.

    "There are more of you, are there not?"

    One of them whistled, causing twenty more of them to appear.

    "Is there something you need?"

    One of the masked ones responded. "Yes, my lord. We heard your speech today and felt it was very inspiring. If you could possibly spare some time..."

    "You me to teach you?"

    "Yes, my lord."

    "You two," he said, pointing towards the masked ones, "you have names, do you not?"

    They hesitated. "I am... Deimos." "And I am Eris."

    "Very well. Before I teach you anything, all of you¡ªincluding you two, Deimos and Eris¡ªmust complete a challenge for me."

    "Anything, my lord," they answered.

    "Who are you?"

    Some of them blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, my lord?"

    Rory sighed. "Look, you all just appeared in front of me, declaring your loyalty. For all I know you''re a bunch of enemy spies. Who are you? Where are you from? How do you know me? I need to know your stories."

    "We''re not important¡ª"

    "Shut up. I''ve spent plenty time wallowing in self-pity, believing myself unimportant. It''s grating and insulting, to both you and me. I am not going to teach a bunch of emo kids. If you wish to stand with me, you will stand tall and stand proud."

    All of them stood up upon hearing this, saluting him. "Yes, my¡ª"

    "Stop it. Honorifics are merely a way of gaining power over another. If I need arbitrary constructs to put you all in line, then I am not worthy of teaching you. No honorifics, no polite speak, and absolutely no groveling. I told you to stand proud, and I expect you to stand proud, especially to me."

    None of them spoke, unsure of what to say.

    ¡°Good. If you don¡¯t have anything to say, then don¡¯t. Filling it with a ¡®Yes, my lord¡¯ is a waste of air. Now, how did this¡­ group form?¡±

    One of them began. ¡°We were freed from various jails by you, and then happened to group together¡ª¡°

    He was interrupted by another Roniceri, who shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not true. I will not lie to you, my¡ªRory. And neither should any of you,¡± he said, looking around. A few of them turned their heads down in shame. ¡°We were put together by a Tykis.¡±

    ¡°Illan, then?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll give him an earful when I get back. Go on.¡±

    ¡°All of us, apart from Deimos and Eris, were collected from jails. We were freed by you, Rory.¡±

    ¡°And Illan took you in? Damn him, he must have intercepted my orders. What did he have you do?¡±

    ¡°He taught us about your exploits, Rory. You¡¯re a great man.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not even old enough to be a man.¡±

    ¡°His men trained us in mathematics, sciences, and assassination.¡±

    ¡°And what? Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Assassination.¡±

    ¡°What.¡±

    ¡°Yes, all of us have at least assassinated one person,¡± he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

    ¡°That, that¡­ that¡¯s insane. That¡¯s terrible! The hell is wrong with him!?¡± If I didn¡¯t have this damn war to deal with I¡¯d have him in a court by now.

    Once the shock began receding, Rory started again. ¡°That is enough, thank you. I will teach you,¡± he sighed. As he looked through the crowds, the Roniceri suddenly seemed much smaller, no more a pack a murders than a group of tainted souls. They all stared at him with hopeful eyes, innocent eyes. Rory made up his mind. I must do all that I can to right these wrongs. That includes righting you, Illan.

    It had been nearly a week. Rory was breaking fast with Cairn, whom he had invited back in.

    "How do they think of me now?"

    "My lord¡ª"

    "Stop. I already told you, I don''t have time for that."

    Cairn took a deep breath. "They like you quick a bit, now. You''ve brought many great things to them."

    "Any dissenters?"

    "I''d say the majority have a positive view of you. Some are skeptical, though. They don''t believe that you would do all that with naught to gain. In particular, there''s a group of immigrants who have been slandering you all day."

    "Group of immigrants?  Where from?" Rory already had a faint idea.

    "Aklan."

    "Of course. Are they persecuted? There was a recent war, after all."

    "Somewhat. They''re not well liked, but I''d wager that comes more from their actions than their heritage."

    "Go on."

    "They''re quite brutish. No sense of etiquette. Spit everywhere. Speak roughly. Harass people."

    "And you haven''t evicted them yet?"

    Cairn shook his head. "We feel that would be against what Pier Vyncis would wish for. He always wanted peace."

    Peace, huh. Rory stood up, taking off his cloak, revealing a set of worn trousers and tunic.

    "Where are you going? What are you dressed in?" Cairn asked, alarmed.

    Rory walked over and put on a traveling cap. "Going to see for myself, of course. Are you coming, Rosa?"

    "Of course! This sounds fun."

    "You''ve certainly become more carefree recently."

    "I don''t have to worry about the household, now."

    "Well, don''t be too carefree. Oh, yes, wear this hood."

    She pouted. "Why? It''s ugly."

    "Because everyone and their mother knows what you looks like."

    Cairn stood up, protesting, "It will be dangerous, my lord!"

    "Dangerous?" Rory asked, turning around. He smirked. "Do you think I have time for danger?"

 Fun

    Rory and Rosa were about a mile off from the when the huts began and slowly transitioned into the townscape. Rory was admiring the rustic surroundings that had escaped him for so long, his time having been spent almost exclusively in urban areas since he was born. Summer had come, and with it brought sweltering heat and expansive flora. Lush grass covered gently rolling hills that extended into and beyond the horizon. A fleet of trees rose to his right flank; oak, he noticed.

    Through the corners of his eyes, he sometimes saw shadows, flitting in and out of vision. He smiled and turned on Chronos, ten children appearing into his view. Just as he instructed, they wore not their black fatigues, but rural clothing, as Rory was wearing. He turned Chronos off, his hypothesis confirmed.

    "Alright, come on out."

    They appeared, kneeling.

    "Didn''t I tell you to stop that? You''re not my servants today. You''re my friends. We all lost our homes and are wandering the countryside for work."

    At his request, they all stood back up, though they all held rigid positions.

    "Your numbers seem to have halved. Where are the rest of you?"

    Eris answered him. "They were appalled by your speech and returned to Illan."

    Rory laughed. "Ha! Well, I feel sorry for them none the less. Come on, let''s go." He began walking again, headed towards a little shack in the distance. "Stop marching. You''re children, not servants. Our cover will be blown if you keep acting like this. Oh, yes, do any of you know a song?"

    "A song?"

    "Yes, music. You have heard of it?"

    "Yes, but..." one of them answered, hesitatingly.

    "But you don''t know any. We have a lot of work to do, it seems. What is your name?" he asked, pointing towards the one who answered.

    "Emi."

    "Well, Emi, you can lead our musical."

    "B-but¡ª"

    "Just hum something. Anything."

    "Alright," she said, beginning to hum a soft little melody, her face turning red. Everyone fell silent, until she finally finished.

    "That was beautiful, Emi!" Rosa exclaimed.

    "W-was it...?" she asked hesitatingly.

    Rory smiled at her. "See, you know something. Where''d you learn it?"

    "M-my mother use to hum it to me... but Illan said¡ª"

    "Illan can go sodomize himself with a rusty sword. Discard everything he told you about living."

    "B-but¡ª"

    "But nothing. I''m your master now, and we''re going to have fun. I''m sure all of you have songs within you. Come on, bring it out. I want to hear them."

    And so he did. He heard nursery rhymes, chimes, a tale about true love, and even Eastern melodies. Rory and Rosa made sure to encourage each one, and soon they were a small parade, filling the air around them with mirth and music. In what seemed like seconds, they had reached their destination. An old woman came out to greet them.

    "My, my. What do we have here."

    "A band of bards, my lady," Rory said with a flourish.

    The woman laughed, a deep hearty laugh. "How polite."

    "Madame, we come from all over the land. We are exiles from our own families, strangers to our own land. We solemnly request your most gracious aid, and are willing to work your fields for dinner."

    "You''ve come at a good time! The local lord''s set up some magic or whatnot. We have water now, coming out from the ground. Of course you can work, dearies. Do you know how to farm?"

    "Yes, Madame. Simply direct us to the tools and we shall begin."

    "They''re over there, in that shack."

    Rory bowed before moving out. "Thank you, we will be on our way. Feel free to inspect our work. If we fail in any way, I do not expect compensation." Walking towards the shack, he yelled, "Come on, everyone! Let''s get to work, no time to lose!"

    They had been working for a bit now, hoeing, plowing, and weeding the fields. Rosa was sitting on a fencepost, watching them while humming Emi''s melody. Rory looked down at Chronos; it had been close to an hour. That''s long enough. He reached down, grabbing a handful of mud and packing it into a ball with his hands.

    "Hey, Emi!" he called.

    Startled, she turned around with a "Huh!?" only to get a face full of mud. "W-what was that?"

    "A mud ball. Alright, throw one back at me."

    "How could I!?"

    "Do it. I command you."

    Trembling, she reached down and grabbed some mud, forming it into a ball. She daintily threw it at Rory, closing her eyes in the process. A few seconds later, she opened her eyes. It had hit him smack in the face. "I-I''m sor¡ª"

    Before she could finish, Rory burst into laughter. "That was a good one! I''ll have my revenge, now, though," he said, grabbing another mud ball and throwing it at her. She dodged nimbly out of the way, shrieking. Looking at the fools throwing mud at either other, the rest of the Roniceri soon joined in.

    "You know what, I don''t care anymore!" Rosa said, jumping off the fencepost and picking up some mud.

    Rory stopped chasing Emi for a moment. "Rosa, do you know how much that dress cost¡ª! Never mind, it''s too late now," he said, sighing.

    Once the mud-throwing had grown to include all but one of the Roniceri, Rory sneaked away, moving back into the hut with the old woman. He saw Eris standing a bit aways.

    "Hey, Eris!"

    "Yes, my lord?" she responded.

    "Didn''t I tell you to stop that?"

    "Yes, my lord."

    "Oh, whatever. So, where''s Deimos."

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    She hesitated for a moment, something Rory had never seen before. "He left with the others."

    "Went back to Illan, huh?"

    "Yes."

    "Well, that''s fine. I don''t want to force anyone to stay with me. Say, why do you wear that mask?"

    "I... I have people that I can''t have recognizing me."

    "You can reveal it me, surely? I want to the see the face that accomplices such a sweet voice."

    "S-stop it, my l-lord¡ª"

    "Hah! Got you flustered now, huh? Nah, you don''t have to show me. We all have our secrets." He crouched down next to her. "I use to be a real wimp, you know. When I first got here, the first thing I did was get hit by a cart. Can you believe that?"

    Eris stayed silent.

    "That was a strange time. I hadn''t really talked with others kids at that time. There were two siblings, though, back at my old orphanage. We didn''t start off liking each other that much, but I opened up to them eventually." Rory stared up Eris'' black mask, as if trying see the face behind it. "The boy was very strong, but a bit daft. I liked that, though. I''m not too strong myself, you see. The girl, though. She wasn''t as well educated, surely, but she was more cunning. Just like you."

    "My lord¡ª"

    "Just teasing. Ah, I remember one time she filled a bag with sand in order to pay some older kids. I just wanted to beat them up. Really, you could say she was smarter than me."

    Rory could hear Eris swallow. "W-what happened... next..."

    Rory smiled at her. "I was overconfident. With them, I felt invincible. I did something I shouldn''t have. Unlike her, I didn''t use cunning. Just brute force. That came back to bite me. I had to pay for my mistakes, and I did. I came back later, when I was a noble, but they were gone by then."

    "...why didn''t you go earlier."

    "I''m a coward, that''s why. I was afraid... so afraid that they would reject me, that they would consider me an equal anymore. Now, I''ll never see them again. I wonder if they ever forgave me..." Rory stood up. "Look at the time. I have some things to discuss with the nice old lady back there. If you need anything, holler anytime," he said as he began to walk away.

    Eris looked at his head, receding. She swallowed, then rose her hand towards him. "Rory, I¡ª" she sputtered out. But, by then, he was too far gone. She let her hand drop.

    "Oh, you''re back?"

    "Yes, Madame. I have a few questions on the current status of the settlement."

    "Ask away, dearie. Here, have a seat. Ah, here''s my son." She indicated towards a stoutly build young man sitting down at the table.

    Rory bowed. "Good to meet you."

    "Same," he grunted.

    "Now, what was it you wanted to ask?"

    "Has the local lord been treating you well?"

    "Well, the true lord is gone. We''re part of Adringum, see. King''s got an alternating year policy."

    "So there is no one here, then?"

    "No, his adoptive son his here."

    "Adoptive? Not a true heir, then?"

    "He''s set to marry his true daughter."

    "My, how incestuous."

    She laughed. "Well, they may as well be strangers."

    "So, do you trust him? Basically a stranger, after all."

    "Most of us didn''t. But I say I would, now. He''s done a lot of work recently."

    "Such as?"

    She pointed outside, towards the fields. "Set up strange new devices or whatnot. Water comes out of those shafts. Don''t know how. Gave us a new iron plow. Haven''t had a chance to use it, though. Mill works on its own now, like magic."

    "So he''s relatively popular in the town, now?"

    "I''d say so."

    Rory took a deep breath. This was the important part. "See, we''re looking for permanent work. Do you think he''ll call for a draft?"

    She paused, then shook her head. "Sorry, I don''t know much about those matters. Better ask my son."

    Rory looked towards him. "Would you join?"

    "No, I wouldn''t. I doubt much of the men would. Maybe if he pays enough."

    "Why not, in particular? Seems to be relatively popular."

    He shook his head. "That brat''s just some city dweller. Never seen a war before. Never felt a countryman''s pain. Never killed a person before. Hell no, I''m not going to fight for him."

    Rory nodded his head thoughtfully. "I see. War is tricky business, after all. What if he forced you to go?"

    "Then I would go. With reluctance. But I would go."

    "Alright, thank you," Rory said, standing up. Before he could leave, however, he heard her son call out for him.

    "Wait! One last thing."

    "Hmm?"

    "Don''t walk out too far alone."

    "Why not?"

    "There''s this group of Aklan bastards. These days, if they see a kid alone, they''d attack him right there on the spot. Steal everything he has, maybe kill him."

    "Truly? Why haven''t you eliminated them, if they are so dangerous?"

    "Pier''s order''s. He told us not to discriminate."

    "This really isn''t discrimination, or at the very least, not discrimination over nationality."

    He shook his head. "Still, we don''t want to offend him."

    Rory sighed. "Well, thank you for the advice. There''s something I need to investigate. If I''m not back by dinner, then just start eating without me."

    --

    As always, thanks for reading. The next portion will be delayed, as I want to submit something to the Wizard contest thing.

 Evil

    Rory stood at the center of town, impatiently tapping his foot against the ground. He looked around; the town was bustling, men carrying various goods to be sold, wives buying food stock for dinner, children playing. It was the perfect time, if only they came. He glanced down at Chronos¡ªthey should be here by now.

    He sighed and reached down into one of his pockets, feeling a rough piece of parchment. He looked up at the sky. This changed everything. He''d been honest; a good boy. He didn''t have the time right now, though. So he''d have some drastic measures. Even if it ruined a few people''s lives. It was no justice, and he knew it. He''d wrangled with the idea for hours, now. If human lives can be put upon a scale and weighed, then surely this was for the best. If not... well, if there was a hell, he was going to it.

    Finally, they came¡ªthe infamous group of Aklan immigrants. They swaggered their way down the cobblestone roads that lead into the marketplace at the center. At every step, people recoiled from them, forming a sort of fearful bubble. It reminded Rory of a magnet repelling charged particles. They wore shabby clothes and had dirty, greasy hair; very stereotypic. They did bad things. Rory reached down to touch the letter again. If he didn''t have the resolve to do this, then how could he even think of winning  a war?

    Rory took a deep breath, and walked forward towards them. He felt someone try to pull him away, away from the danger, but he shrugged him off and continued on.

    "Get outta our way, kid," one of them sneered.

    Rory ignored him and began his proclamation. "Subjects of the Vyncis! Hear, hear! Hear me!"

    Murmurs erupted throughout the growing crowd; who was this kid, and who did he think he is?

    "Who am I, you wonder?" He took his cap off and wore his cloak; his best one, a regal purple with gold lining. "I am Rory Vyncis! No doubt you recognize me now! I am here to announce a change and lay down justice." He took a deep breath. "I am reinstating the draft! We are officially at war with Aklan!"

    Murmurs transitioned into shouts; some of joy, some of anger, some of confusion.

    "And! And!" Rory continued. He pointed at the Aklan settlers. "I have important information regarding them!" He turned to the crowd and took the parchment out of his pocket, holding it up for all to see. "They are spies! Spies from Aklan! Have you never wondered why they act so brutishly? Why they beat, they rob, they vandalize? This is why! They are agents, agents from Aklan!" He flaunted the letter. "See! I found this at their home; instructions from an Aklan spymaster. See the signature! They are traitors! Undeserving of your hospitality!" He turned back towards the settlers. "And the punishment for treason is death."

    One of the Aklan rolled his eyes. "Oh? You''ll send your little troops after us? Noble scum."

    Rory''s eyes hardened. "No. I shall kill you, personally."

    The crowd silenced at once; this sheltered, city kid is going to do what?

    Rory began to pull out weapon. Was it sword, crafted from the finest gold? A saber, from Eastern steel? A crossbow, made by the best engineers? No, it was a pitchfork; the humble, rusted tool that all farmers knew well. Rory had pilfered it from the old lady''s farm, though he planned to return it.

    "Run if you wish, Aklan spies."

    They laughed. "If you seek death, you shall find death. Come, noble brat. Our fists have been inactive for too long."

    The biggest came walking towards Rory, who steeled himself. His brushed his fingers over Chronos'' main button. He watched the big man walk, closer and closer. He watched his fist pull back and then swing towards him. And he pressed the button.

    The crowd felt a shiver go through them. The next thing they saw was the Aklan man, on the ground, and Rory, on top of him, holding a pitchfork that impaled his neck.

    Rory felt the blood, the warm blood, pour over him. He felt it cover his hands, cover his face, cover his cloak. He didn''t try to clean it off. The blood had stained him, and it would never go away. Suddenly, he flew, stabbing another Aklan immigrant, and then another, using the element of surprise to make up for his lack of time-stopping ability. They were all dead, now.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Rory turned to stare back at the crowd. "I will not make you shed any blood that I am not willing to! I will not make you kill any who I am not willing to! Aklan has betrayed our good interests, and the taint in our honor can only be filled with their blood. Come, who here shall fight for your home, your wives, your children? Know that you will not fight alone! I shall be there, right next to you, fighting in the dirt and blood!"

    The crowd was silent at first. Then, Rory could hear a quiet chanting. Soon, it grew louder, and louder. Now, there was no man, no woman, no child whose lips did not follow.

    "Vyncis! Vyncis!"

    Rory looked around, and smiled. It was a bittersweet smile. He looked down once more at the parchment. He read the contents. And finally, he read the forged signature. He held his hands up and watched the blood drip down. He turned towards the bodies. If a hell exists, then I am going to it.

    Rory was walking back the manor. He had taken a bath after the execution and then returned to the farmhouse, but the Roniceri were already gone. He sighed and looked at his hands; the multitudinous seas incarnadine. They were clean, now. Clean and yet dirty.

    He opened the door and began to walk in, light spilling out into the darkness. He looked down, slipping his shoes off, when suddenly, he toppled over, feeling a sharp pain from his left cheek. He groaned and looked up at the perpetrator, though he already had an idea, which is why he had not activated Chronos; someone who actually wanted to murder him would choose a more effective attack. A masked face looked down at him.

    "Friendly welcome," he murmured.

    "What the hell were you doing?"

    "Just went for a walk."

    "A walk that took more than an hour?"

    "Ah, sorry. It was secret administrative business."

    "Stop lying, asshole."

    "Such foul language¡ª"

    He got another slap. "I know where you were. The whole town knows."

    Rory sighed. "I needed a spark."

    "Why didn''t you have us do it!?"

    "You''re children. I can''t order children to murder someone."

    "I am no more a child than you are!"

    Rory shook his head. "Still. There is a great deal of difference in ordering yourself to do something and ordering someone else."

    "We all know how to kill," she said, lifting Rory by his cloak.

    "Still¡ª"

    "Still, my ass. Damn it, stop trying to be nice."

    "I''m not being nice."

    "You''ve always tried that. Sacrifice yourself, even if you do more harm than good. What if you died? What then? Who the hell is going to lead them, then? Did you ever think about that? Even at the orphanage, you always helped out, and at the end... at the end..."

    Rory shook himself free. He stared at her. "That''s where you''re wrong. Everything, everything always had a separate purpose. I''m a terrible person. A terrible person. A terrible damn person. I helped out at the orphanage to gain allies. I executed¡ªno, murdered¡ªthose Aklans because I needed support. They weren''t going to follow some brat from the city. I needed a way to show that I''m more. I needed a scapegoat to focus their hatred. And it was perfect." He reached down into his pockets and drew out the letter. "Do you know what this is? Do you!? It''s a fucking lie! They couldn''t even read! I forged it! I lied, I lied and murdered people for my own goals. I''m not some goddamn saint."

    "What about that time with the jail!? Your leg!?"

    He turned around briskly and began to walk off. "Even a broken clock strikes twice a day. I''m just another nobleman, now. Another lying, oppressive, aristocratic asshole. And that''s how it''s going to be. If I have not the resolve to be evil, then I do not deserve to rule.¡±

    --

    I should have more time now. I did submit something to the competition; if you wish to read, you can find it here</a>.

 Preparation

    ¡°Good morning, my lord.¡±

    ¡°I told you to stop that.¡±

    Cairn walked in to Rory¡¯s makeshift office, a scramble of parchment and scrolls placed on a cabinet cut in half. He bowed.

    Rory cradled his forehead in his hand. ¡°Have you sent my orders?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I have¡­ Rory. A question about that¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You are letting go of all of the land up to Sym.¡±

    Rory lifted his head and stared at him. ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°The troops will not be happy.¡±

    ¡°That is unfortunate, but a necessary sacrifice,¡± Rory said, sighing. ¡°We absolutely do not have manpower to do anything but turtle here. Besides, our supply chain is incredible with the railway.¡± He held a piece of parchment. ¡°We currently have 7,000 troops enlisted. I expect another 4,000 by the time the invasion begins in earnest. That gives us 11,000 troops. My spies say that the Aklan army is 100,000 strong.¡±

    ¡°The discrepancy is that large?¡± Cairn exclaimed, his eyes widening.

    Rory closed his eyes. ¡°Unfortunately. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, however.¡±

    ¡°Ah, the wall you are constructing?¡±

    ¡°Yes, the concrete walls. And the barb wire. And the mines. And the machine gun fire. And the mortars. You don¡¯t even know what half of those mean¡ªkeep it that way. The Aklan¡¯s are just as confused as you are. Thankfully.¡±

    Cairn jumped in fear. Rory looked over to see a masked face, kneeling beside him.

    ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°My lord, the Aklan troops are at Ien.¡±

    Rory sighed. ¡°We need to quicken things up, then. Only a hundred or so miles left.¡±

    Eris continued to stand there, silent.

    ¡°What are you still here for?¡±

    She steeled herself. ¡°You can slow them, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Guerilla tactics, I know. It would be nice, but we can¡¯t afford it. I can¡¯t lose a single man unnecessarily. With our numbers, each man must take out at least ten of the Aklans. Besides, I don¡¯t have time to train them. They are only beginning to drill with the guns. How the hell can I expect them to use them well?¡±

    ¡°Use us. We¡¯re already trained, we can be invisible¡ª¡°

    ¡°No. We went over this already.¡±

    She stood up. ¡°God damn it Rory, I didn¡¯t come here sit around doing nothing!¡±

    ¡°What the hell did you come here for, then? Feel free to leave.¡±

    ¡°Why!? Why don¡¯t you use us?¡±

    ¡°I am not sending children to murder people!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s war!¡±

    ¡°Men are men, even if you face them down the barrel of a gun. If you forget that, then you are no longer a human.¡±

    ¡°What about the troops, then? You¡¯re fine turning them into monsters!?"

    ¡°They are defending their families and their land. It is a fine sacrifice to become a monster to save those. You, on the other hand, are a stranger.¡±

    ¡°Send us. Or we¡¯ll send ourselves.¡±

    ¡°How dare you speak for all of the Roniceri!¡±

    Twelve other figures, all dressed in dark fatigues, appeared. Cairn was hiding in the corner by now. One of them began speaking; Rory noticed that it was Emi, the girl from before.

    ¡°Fun is nice and all, but we have the most fun when helping you,¡± she said, smiling.

    Rory turned around. ¡°Damn it! You were the group... you were the group I wanted to save... Fine! So be it. Go and kill yourselves.¡±

    They saluted him.

    Rory slumped down back into his chair. ¡°Talk to one of my men. You¡¯ll have the best arms available. Remember, only target the supply chain. Not the army. Don¡¯t try to take down an officer; just attack the supply chain. Just the supply chain, got it? If any of you are about to die, run immediately. I don¡¯t care what you were doing or how important it is. If any of you die, I won¡¯t forgive you.¡±

    Rory felt the night air on his skin; cool in contrast to the hot climate. He looked over the fields that would sooner or later be the staging grounds of the first battle, standing on the concrete barricade he had constructed in the last few weeks. It stretched a few hundred meters on both sides. Ahead of it, a fairly innocuous plain¡ªhidden deep within the earth, however, were hundreds of mines. A simple type made of an unstable wooden box. When enough pressure was applied, the box would break, and the explosive charge would be loosened. It was a technique he had borrowed from the Second World War¡ªa mere piece of history to him.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    He felt a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Rosa.¡±

    She walked up next to him. ¡°Can¡¯t sleep?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re out there. Those kids. Out there killing men, bombing caravans, maybe even being killed.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t feel too bad, now. They¡¯re out there by their own choice.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want this war to taint them any more than it had to. It¡¯s already tainted me. I¡­ I had never killed before. It¡¯s scary.¡±

    ¡°How did it feel?¡±

    ¡°It felt like nothing. That¡¯s why it¡¯s scary. It¡¯s so easy. A sentient being, a mind that can think on its own, gone in a quick, effortless slash. I can see how someone could get used to it.¡±

    Neither of them spoke for a while.

    ¡°They¡¯ll be here soon, won¡¯t they?¡± Rosa asked finally.

    ¡°We have a week and half. Maybe longer if they¡¯re successful.¡±

    ¡°Can we win?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But we probably can. It¡¯ll still be summer for another month or two. If we can rout them here, we¡¯ll keep pushing. Pushing them farther and farther off.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Your lack of confidence contradicts your decisions.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    She smiled. ¡°You didn¡¯t order them to burn any of their farms. Only someone absolutely confident they can break out of the siege and push them back would do something like that.¡±

    Rory sighed. ¡°Where did you learn what scorched earth policy is, anyway?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate me. I was the only heir to the Vyncis a while ago. It would be me up here if you didn¡¯t exist.¡±

    ¡°I should¡¯ve ordered them. Should¡¯ve. I couldn¡¯t do it, though. Tell those hardworking people to burn everything they¡¯ve worked for in the last decade. I¡¯m trying to make hard decisions, but my heart falters. Just like with the Roniceri. I need to use every resource I have, and they¡¯re a damn good resource¡ªa bunch of assassins.¡± He sat down and looked up at the night star, filled by stars. ¡°Where¡­ where I use to live, there were people who used children as soldiers. They were effective; their small size let them fit in places where they else wouldn¡¯t. The world considered those people monsters, though. I considered them monsters. And here I am.¡±

    ¡°If a monster saves hundreds of thousands of lives while a human loses them all, which one is the real monster?¡±

    ¡°I know. I need to make those decisions. For the people. For the Vyncis. I wonder how history will think of me. As a hero, the one who prevailed against impossible odds, or¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªas the monster who massacred hundreds of thousands. Probably both.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s strange. Everyone laughs at inept princes¡ªoh, what a fool. He was born into luxury and power and he can¡¯t even use it. If I was him, the country would be in a golden age by now. Everyone wants power, and yet, when you finally have it, you realize that it¡¯s damn heavy. Heavy enough to crush a man. Suddenly, you begin to sympathize a hell¡¯ve a lot more with that prince.¡±

    Rosa sat down next to him. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to weigh on you alone. I¡¯m here with you, all the way.¡±

    ¡°The historians shall call you the evil consort of Rory the Terrible,¡± Rory said, chuckling.

    ¡°Ah? I think they¡¯d call me the beauty trapped by the beast.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a beast, now?¡± he asked, looking down at himself.

    ¡°A midget, then.¡±

    ¡°A midget that was crippled for most of the story.¡±

    ¡°Alright, a beauty trapped by the crippled midget.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re no taller than I am.¡±

    ¡°A midget beauty trapped by a crippled midget?¡±

    Rory looked down at his hands. "That may be more truth than fiction, I''m afraid. Rosa, if you¡ª"

    "Someone needs a hug!" she cried, jumping on him. She covered his mouth with her hand. "Sometimes, you should really shut up, methinks."

    He protested at first, trying to shake her off, but eventually gave up. They laid there a while, entangled in each other, looking up at the stars.

    ¡°Rosa.¡±

    ¡°Hmm?¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

 Day Before

    Rory sat under the glare of a few basic wire resistance-based light bulbs; about as inefficient as you could get, they produced far more heat than light, but, for right now, it was all he had to work with. He was fiddling with small pieces of copper and other assorted metals. Finally, after connecting a few wires, a strange device off to the side constructed out of leftover parchment covering a wooden frame began to emit a dull, buzzing sound. Rory smiled and sat back, relieved.

    It was a basic radio transmission system, and it had taken far too much time. With materials ill-suited for electrical engineering, progress had stalled, but he had finally completed it. He had let the small league of engineers he''d brought handle explosives and the such¡ªthey were relatively simple, after all, in terms of thinking. For electrical applications, however, he could only rely on himself.

    The speaker was parchment attached to a conical wooden frame. Underneath laid a permanent magnet¡ªRory wasn''t even sure what type it was¡ªconnected to a coil. Electrical frequency would oscillate the magnet, which would in turn oscillate the parchment, which would vibrate and create sound. A receiver supplied the electrical frequency. He used a strip of copper wire as a antenna, and a coil of wire around a nail as a tuner. The diode was perhaps the most difficult to create, as it required the ever elusive members of the metalloid family. He still wasn''t sure what the hell he''d actually ended up using, but it worked, and that''s what mattered.

    The transmitter was far more complex; he''d somehow managed to create it off memory. It was a basic transmitter type, sometimes called the "Manhattan style." As of now, it could only transmit a distance of around 20 meters, and he couldn''t transmit voices, only create noise. It certainly wasn''t ready for use now, the day before their first, and perhaps final, stand. But it could be used later, and a powerful tool it would be once he had some better materials.

    He sighed and stood up; now was no time to fiddling with electronics. To be honest, he was surprised he even managed¡ªthe time when he had taken Physics C back at the Academy was very, very long time ago. He''d had a crush on one of his peers; what was her name again? Emily? Elli? He wondered what she''d think of him now, the local lord of medieval subnation. She was dead; he remembered that. He was so enraged at one point; angry at the world and at the race that did it. And then reality hit him, and he began to forget.

    He heard a knock on his door.

    "Come in."

    In came one of his officers. He used to manage the mills; Rory considered that enough leadership experience. "Sir, the enemy diplomat has arrived."

    "Where is he?" Rory asked, as he began to clean up his workspace.

    "In the Granary. Shall I bring you?"

    Rory nodded. "Yes, thank you."

    The man saluted and motioned for Rory to follow. A few minutes later, he was sat in front of a sinewy man, with grey, balding hair and even greyer whiskers. Rory had expected them to send a fresh recruit to humiliate them, but it seems they would offer them honor if nothing else. They were surrounded on all sides by Rory''s soldiers. Cairn stood off in the corner, transcribing the talk.

    Rory gave a slight bow. "Good to see on this fine night."

    The man followed. "The same to you, good lord. I am Castus, and I hope we may come to agreeable terms tonight."

    Rory smiled. "Of course. What are your terms?"

    "Surrender all the lands up to Ien. You may keep the rest."

    "How generous. Not even a tribute payment?"

    Castus laughed. "No, no. We are an agreeable people."

    Rory smirked. If his hunch was correct... "Do you require anything of me?"

    "Just a small thing. His Imperial Majesty requests your presence at his latest ball, as a forging of new bonds between our lands."

    Of course. He''d have some fun, now. "How''s this. We surrender all of the lands, and I don''t go to the ball."

    Castus'' eyes widened. "W-what!?"

    "Fine. All of the lands, 100 million gild, and I offer my firstborn son. How''s that? I''m a very shy person, you see."

    "S-surely that a price too high? You do not have to make a public appearance, if you wish. His Imperial Majesty merely wishes to welcome¡ª"

    "I am not stepping foot into Aklan, Castus. I know your King''s ploys, even if you don''t."

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    "We can negotiate¡ª"

    Rory stood up and motioned to his soldiers. "Communications have broken down. Escort him to the Aklan war camp." He walked towards Castus. "Tell your master this: I do not fear his bands of mercenaries." He exited the building, motioning for his Cairn, who had quickly become his de facto secretary, to follow.

    "That was swift, my lord."

    Rory laughed. "Oh, yes. No doubt any terms of surrender or truce would involve a clause that gets me into Aklan, where I will mysteriously die from a construction accident. Our King wants the land back at the end for a nice fee. The Aklan''s merely want to murder me. Any land they take is secondary."

    "What was the last bit about? Mercenaries?"

    "I merely want the enemy commander to know."

    "Know what?"

    Rory didn''t answer. "Has anyone answered back?"

    "Erm, yes. The Tykis Family offers aid in three months. The Tydyll Family offers aid in two."

    "The Tydyll family? How interesting. Did I step on Myell''s head a bit too much?"

    "Do you have a history with the Tydyll''s?"

    "You could say that. Did the Ayell''s answer?"

    Cairn shook his head. "No."

    Rory sighed. The Ayell''s were his only real hope. The family kept a group of armored knights recruited at all times, since their territory borders the barbarian tribes to the west. No other family kept a standing army, and would no doubt take months before they could mobilize; by then, they''d either have won or lost.

    "My lord?"

    "Yes?"

    "You did not request help from the King."

    "No, and we will not ask help from the King. We will prevail, and he shall know that he made a grave mistake. A very grave mistake." Tomorrow was the be the beginning of the end or the beginning of his rise. Only time would tell. "Has... has any of the Roniceri reported back?"

    They were at the edge of the barricade, now. Rory looked on at the darkened horizon, where numerous blots of fire stood.

    "No."

    Only a few dozen miles off, Castus stood, bowing to a youth with dark brown hair and a pair of sharp blue eyes. This was the imperial prince, Marcus Novus Germanicius.

    "How did it go?" he asked.

    "Sire, Rory Vyncis has rejected our offer."

    "Hah!" he laughed. "Is he sharp or merely lucky?"

    "He wished to impart a message to you, Sire."

    "Oh? Well, speak up! What is it?"

    "I do no fear your bands of mercenaries."

    Marcus laughed a high, almost painful laugh. "Sharp, then. He knows, eh? Well, that is no matter. Tell the commanders; we march at noon."

    "But, General Lucius said to wait¡ª"

    "Lucius is dead. I am the only commander here, old man. Follow me to the battlefield or to the gallows. It is your choice."

    Castus shuddered. "No, sire. I shall impart your orders."

    "Good, good. Now, leave."

    "Yes, sire." Castus saluted him and promptly left.

    Marcus smiled in anticipation and walked through his commander''s tent into his secret pavilion¡ªhe had forbid anyone from entering, and the penalty was death. Here lied his prize; a cage, with nothing in it.

    "Hello, my darling. How are you doing?" he sneered.

    He picked up a spear hung from the wall and inverted it, holding it by the point, and stabbed it into the cage. Unbelievably, it struck something halfway through. Marcus began to twist the point, and the invisible object began to shrink away.

    "Rory Vyncis, huh? You certainly have some interesting tools," he muttered.

    The caravans and carts that brought the armies food, weapons, and other necessitates had been under constant attack by what the men could only describe as "ghosts", setting the army back by at least a week. Then, in a twist of luck, General Lucius was assassinated¡ªbut the assassin seemed not to know that the Commander''s tent had only one exit.

    He picked up some of his other tools. "You have yet to squeak. Admirable. That will change, however. I swear it, whether it takes one night or too hundred, I shall make you respond. It is merely a matter of time."

 Backs to the Wall

    Morn struck. Marcus Novus Germanicius sat in his saddle atop a fine chestnut horse. He looked over the gently sloping fields where the Vyncis forces had constructed a wall of sorts, a stretch of what looked like gray rock almost three meters high. He could see eyes peek out at him.

    One of his officers trotted up. "Sire?"

    "Organization?"

    "Sire, the infantry has been organized, with the first, second, and third cohorts leading the charge. The fourth, fifth, and sixth make our second line. They stand in standard formation, with 3,000 men per row and four rows. Our three cavalry units are stationed to our right, to protect against flank attacks."

    He smiled. "Very good."

    "Sire, orders?"

    "We march."

    "When?"

    "Now."

    Rory spied over the concrete; the Aklan army, a massive blot of blue uniforms began to move. Earlier, he watched them form up into six blocks; three headed the charge.

    One of his officers walked up. "Rory?"

    "Are the cannons ready?"

    "Yes, all cannons have been loaded, and the barricade has been set."

    He smiled. "Very good."

    "Orders, Rory?"

    "Fire."

    "When?"

    "Now."

    A huge series of explosions rang throughout the plains. At first, the men were confused, having never heard such things before. They thought that perhaps there was an earthquake, and were cursing their luck. Then, they realized. They realized that they were very, very wrong. Massive iron spheres, over a ton in mass, rocketed towards them at speeds of almost 400 miles per hour. When they hit a man, he splintered into a thousand pieces of blood and flesh. But they didn''t stop there; no, the spheres, their velocities uncontrollable, sped through, running down the ranks, crushing men, until they finally skittered against the earth, where the huge chunks of brittle iron fractured into hundreds of thousands of sharp, fast pieces that proceeded to horribly impale all nearby.

    "Keep moving! KEEP MOVING!" Marcus yelled.

    Their loyalty intense, the men continued. Suddenly, as they began to advance closer, the ground erupted into flames. This happened seemingly randomly, as if God himself was smiting them from above.

    "MARCH FORWARD!"

    The soldiers lived and died for Aklan; that would not change. But, they thought, if there was ever a hell, this world of flame, of thundering iron, of flying flesh, where death rained from the skies and men fell like flies, would be it.

    "Rory, they''re within 200 meters."

    Rory smiled. "Alright, boys. Time to get those guns out."

    The Aklan army began to near the Wall. Thousands of men were dead or injured by now, but, under fierce command, they marched onwards. The wall brought relief for many, as it marked the end of their suffering; all they needed to do was breech it, and they were done. They could escape, they could live!

    3,000 Vyncis heads appeared from atop the wall. They brandished what looked like long sticks with peices of metal sticking out the end. Some of the men began to joke.

    "That''s what they''re armed with?" "Can''t even afford a sword." "Pathetic."

    Then, flashes of light erupted from the end of those sticks, and the Aklan''s realized exactly what they were; it was a miniature of the device that sent those chunks of metal flying. Mirth turned to despair, as the men''s hearts were filled with dread.

    "MARCH! MARCH FORWARD!"

    But under relentless pressure from Marcus, they continued on, stepping over the dead and wounded. The Vyncis men ducked, and out came a fresh batch, who fired. Then, they ducked, and another unit of fresh guns came blazing. By then, the first had finished reloading, and they promptly took charge. The gunfire rang non-stop. The cannon''s continued to ring. Mines continued to explode, killing hundreds.

    Before, the men wondered how the situation could ever grow worse. Their question was answered.

    "Rory, the enemy has advanced to 100 meters!"

    Rory sighed. This would be the most difficult part to execute. They had drilled, and drilled, but practice only went so far, especially since they couldn''t actually perform the act, only pretend. "Start the drums! We retreat!"

    At his order, great drums were beaten, and the men began their practiced retreat. They filled the cannons to the brim with gunpowder and began to flee. Some were too slow, some were caught, some were confused, and they all perished. Some stepped on their own mines. But most escaped up, to a second barricade, exactly the same as the one before, except perhaps smaller, as the fields began to shrink up the hill. Rory fingered Chronos; he would have a dangerous job¡ªtwenty minutes, in twenty minutes he needs to run there, set the fuse, and run back...

    The Aklan''s cheered¡ªthe Vyncis were fleeing! Fleeing! They rushed over the wall in great waves. Already, the blue Aklan flag waved atop it, victory in their hands.

    And then the barricade exploded.

    And, out from the ashes, and the guts, and the bleeding, groaning men, the remaining Aklan''s saw another wall, exactly the same as the one they had just scaled, and they knew they would face the exact thing as they had faced before. Their stomach''s dropped; this was far worse than any hell. How many Vyncis men had died? Fifty? A hundred? How many of their brethren had died? Ten thousand? Fifty thousand?

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    At the back, Marcus was reconvening with his officers. He cupped his head with his hand. Grime and blood tarnished his fair armor, as even he could not fully escape the slaughter.

    "Casualties?" he asked.

    "30% of the infantry is dead or injured. The Cavalry units were caught in the strange iron strings the Vyncis laid across the fields and were forced to dismount. I placed them in reserve."

    "How much of the first three cohorts survived?"

    The officers looked among each other. Finally, one spoke up. "Less than half, sire."

    "That''s the end of our professional force, then."

    One of the officers coughed, and spoke up: "Sire... we should retreat."

    Marcus turned towards him with fiery eyes. "No! We will continue. We shall not suffer the shame of being defeated by 11,000 men!"

    "Retreat! Retreat!"

    Rory called for his forces to once again back off; this time, to their final stand, a circular fort constructed at the top of a hill. From his vantage point, he could see the Aklan''s hesitate as they neared the second wall¡ªfearful, of course, that it would explode as the previous had. Rory counted in his head; one, two, three...

    The ground just before the wall suddenly erupted into flame, killing a few thousand soldiers who stood atop it, and causing the rest to recoil backwards. They planted the explosive charges not in the wall itself this time, but the ground before it, and it had worked beautifully.

    Rory looked over the fields; even after all the death and destruction that had been wrought upon the Aklan army, huge blobs of blue still dotted the land. 100,000 was simply a ridiculous number of men! He grimaced¡ªeven after more of the Aklan''s would no doubt perish getting to the last fortification, they would still outnumber them by at least 3 to 1.

    He backed off and picked up a rifle from a chest and began to bark orders.

    "Alright, I want a sixth of you to be reserve. The rest, order yourselves in three groups; Remember, nonstop fire!"

    He walked over to the artillery men. "Keep firing. When they reach 100 meters, fill the cannons with gunpowder, set a fuse, and roll the cannon''s down."

    They saluted him and set to work. He sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his hand, swiping off a film of soot and gunpowder in the process. This was going to be a long day.

    "Sire, we have encircled the fort!"

    Marcus grimaced. "How much of our forces are left?"

    "40%, sire!"

    What an utter catastrophe. 60,000 men dead! Ridiculous. That damned Adringum King would hear of this¡ªan easy job, huh! Just 11,000 men! But, it was almost over. They would have their victory; an exceedingly costly victory, but at least a victory.

    "Slow advance up the hill. At 500 meters, begin a charge. Place all reserves in the assault. We will crush them here."

    Rory looked down: under the setting sun, a ring of blue circled them. He turned towards his men.

    "Alright, boys! This is it. There''s nowhere to run, and after what we''ve put them through, no hope of surrender. Fight! Fight to the last! We may fall here, but we''ve showed them that we''re a goddamn force to be reckoned with! For the Kingdom! For the Vyncis! For your families! For the land!"

    They cheered and set to work.

    The Aklan''s began to ascend slowly, as cannon fire and mines wreaked havoc upon their lines. Then, as they reached the final stretch, they charged, a mass of flailing, screaming flesh. Here, finally, they would be in actual combat with the Vyncis forces, who, up to this point, had fled and left the Aklan''s to kill themselves.

    Rory stood in the middle of the circular encampment, ready for any status updates.

    "Rory, unit 4 is exhausted!"

    "Swap with the reserves!"

    "Rory, unit 1 is under pressure!"

    "Shut up and deal with it!"

    "Rory, what should the artillery squad do?"

    "Pick up a gun and help unit 1!"

    "Rory, injured men from unit 4! What do we do?"

    "Bandage and clean the wounds of those who can still fight! Leave the rest!"

    "Rory, unit 6 is too weak!"

    "Unit 4, reinforce unit 6!"

    "Unit 2 is being deplenished!"

    "Deal with it! Reserves are at with unit 6."

    Rory grimaced; they simply didn''t have enough men! The reserves were already out, no medical supplies, surrounded on all sides... it wasn''t looking good. The cannons were gone, though they still had plenty of ammo. They wouldn''t last at this rate¡ªeventually, one unit would crack, and when they cracked, he would be forced to stretch his lines out further, and then the Aklan''s could concentrate on that point and break through...

    Well, they did a damn fine job regardless. Who would''ve thought¡ª11,000 barely trained men, taking out most of a 100,000 strong force. It was a battle worthy of Thermopylae! The King may win out here, but a hell''ve a price he''d pay for it!

    "Rory, unit 1 has loss half of their men!"

    It had to happen eventually...

    "Stretch out unit 2 and 3!"

    Rory smiled. It had been a good run.

 Charge

    An hour had passed. There was no need to switch reserves or command units; no, every man was there, on the wall, fighting. With not much left to do, Rory had joined the remnants of unit 1. He was not a particularly good shot, and really, did not add much physically, but none of the men wanted to look weak in front of the little man. He had promised that he would fight with them, and by gods, they would fulfill their side of the bargain.

    The Aklan soldiers had almost entirely abandoned their shields, as they proved poor cover against the musket balls that they faced. Their siege material all but forgotten, they ran up the walls on the corpses of their dead brethren, their minds filled with naught but slaughter. What was once the most orderly force in the continent had become a group of rabid dogs, engulfed by bloodlust.

    A man jumped up onto the wall in front of Rory. He saw his blood-shot eyes, his gut-covered uniform, his dirt scrawled face, his fractured arms. Take aim. Line up the iron-sights. Press the trigger. And then another popped up. Take aim. Line up iron-sights. Fire. Two more now. Not enough ammo. Stab with bayonet. Ignore the blood. Back up. Reload. Go back. Take aim. Fire. Go back. Reload. Take aim. Fire. Ignore the blood. Take aim. Fire. Take aim. Fire. Back up. Take aim. Fire. Ignore the blood. Take aim. Fire. Ignore the blood. Fire. Back up. Reload. Fire. Back up. Reload. Fire. Too close, stab. Go back. Ignore the blood. Ignore the faces. Take aim. Fire.

    It was robotic, automatic. There was no thinking involved; just instinct and muscle memory.

    But stamina had never been Rory''s strong suit. He slouched back onto the ground and another soldier filled his place in the line. He sighed and looked up at the darkening skies. So, this was how he would die. He could''ve never imagined it; not in safety of the modern world, not in the drudges of the orphanage, not in the luxury of nobility. Death had never really appeared in his mind. He always had such grand plans, and yet, plans had a way of turning awry. It wasn''t enough; he needed more. There were still too many Aklan''s. He should''ve cut more down. He miscalculated. And it would kill him. Fair''s fair, he supposed.

    He struggled back to his feet, using the stock of his gun as a makeshift staff. If he was going to die, he would die going to Valhalla, damn it! An enemy''s sword in his gut¡ªthat''s how he''s going out. Not sitting on his butt.

    He scrambled forwards towards the line. He pushed himself through and smirked at the men next to him, who replied in kind.

    "You did a damn fine job, kid."

    "Didn''t I? The Aklan Army will have this humiliation on them till the end of time."

    "Well, come on. Let''s die," the man said, shooting another Aklan in the meantime.

    "Let''s." Take aim. Fire. Ignore the¡ª

    Suddenly, echoing throughout the plains, a great horn blew out. Everyone¡ªthe Aklan''s, the Vyncis forces, everyone¡ªstopped what they were doing. Swords and muskets alike were held lax. They all stared, scrambling over each other mentally if not physically, at the source. And there, near base of the hill, stood a 6,000 knights, the Adringum banner standing next to the Ayell standard. All was silent.

    "CHARGE!"

    And then they charged.

    In all the history of human warfare, there are few more frightening experiences than having a mass of horse and armored man charge at you. And one of those few is having a mass of horse and armored man charge at you from behind.

    The Aklan''s had had enough. The enemy had reinforcements, they were flanked, they were being charged at, they were miserable, they were burnt, and they didn''t give a shit about the King or his damned prince any more¡ªnothing was worse than this.

    Rory was still amazed, but he quickly got over his shock.

    "The enemy is routed! Charge!"

    And with a whoop, the soldiers leapt off the wall and chased the fleeing Aklan''s, butchering any that they could find.

    Rory himself slumped to the ground. I''m alive. I''m alive. We won. We fucking won! He let his head drift downwards, when he saw a hoof land near his hand. He lazily looked upwards to see tendrils of soft brown hair and a familiar face.

    "Aria..."

    She smiled. "Seems we arrived just in time. Come, get on." She held a hand out.

    He shakily grabbed onto it and she pulled him up onto the horse. Exhausted, he leaned back against her.

    "You... didn''t answer."

    "Sorry about that. The King ordered us to stay put."

    "But¡ª"

    She winked. "I was never one to do what he wanted."

    "What about the men?"

    "Our men are professional, you see. Not conscripted noblemen. They''re people of the land: farmers, workers. They care not for the ploys and plots of the nobility. They simply saw their Kingdom being invaded by foreign forces, and jumped at the chance to help."

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    "The King''s not going to happy about this."

    "Oh, he''s going to be far less happy about me in the future, trust me. But look; look at what you''ve accomplished!"

    They had rounded up a cliff. He looked down¡ªthere, blobs of blue were still being run down.

    "We won," he whispered.

    She smiled. "You have indeed."

    The historians of the future would name this the beginning of the end¡ªthe end of sovereign nations. It was the start of future conquests, the start of the world''s largest empire, the start of the first, and perhaps only, unified human front. But that was a tale for another day.

    Night had fallen, but the people cared not. On the morrow, they would mourn for their lost. Then, they would continue the campaign. Tonight, however, was the time for celebration; for mirth, for dancing, for drinking. Great bonfires were lit, tables were set, and the beer was brought out.

    At first, faced with barrels of alcohol, Rory had been hesitant, various laws regarding drinking age having been engraved into his mind, but then he realized that he had spent a day shooting armored men with a musket, laughed, and began to drink.

    Aria walked over. "They''re starting the music," she said, pointing over to one of the bonfires where a group had taken out their instruments and begun playing. Already, there were groups dancing.

    "And?"

    "Care to join me?"

    "No¡ª" Rory began, but quickly amended. "Sure."

    "Oh?" she said, surprised. "You actually accepted?"

    "You saved my life. You may do as you wish¡ª"

    "Alright!" she interrupted, dragging him over.

    "I have no idea what I''m doing."

    "Oh, it''s not that bad. Just move your feet."

    "Everything''s spinning..."

    "That might be a problem."

    "I... I need to... sit down..."

    Rory stumbled into a spare chair and slumped over.

    "What, did you drink too much?"

    "...probably."

    Aria sighed. "You barely had three jugs."

    "I''m... too young... going to get arrested..."

    "Arrested by who?"

    "The... po-po..."

    "Here, have some water," she said, sliding over a glass.

    "Thanks." He took a drank. "How long are you staying?"

    "I''m leaving tomorrow morning."

    "Really? What''s the hurry?"

    "I have business in the capital. I hope by the end of your campaign you could join me."

    Rory''s eyes widened. "You don''t mean¡ª"

    "Yes, I do mean that. Now, shh. There''s people around. Don''t worry, I''m leaving my Knights in your command."

    "Aria."

    "Hmm?"

    "Stay safe. Now that the invasion has failed, the King will be on edge."

    "Worrying about me? Hah. I''ll be fine. By the way, where''s your wife?"

    "Wife? I have a wife?" Rory felt something hit his head from behind.

    "Yes. I''m behind you."

    "Oh, Rosa! Hah... uh..."

    "I see you''ve been very friendly with this woman."

    Aria laughed and began to walk away. "I''ll leave you to it. Oh, yes, and it seems you have some guests over there."

    "Guests?" Rory asked, startled. When his eyes began to straighten out, he saw small, uniformed bodies in front of him. "Oh! You''re back!" It was the Roniceri. "Where''ve you been? We won! Wait..." He scanned through their numbers. "Where''s the masked one? Eris?"

    They looked at one another. Finally, Emi, the girl from before, spoke up. "She was captured."

    At once, Rory began to grow serious. "Captured? How?"

    "She... we found where the general was, and she... she killed him, but was captured afterwards."

    "What! I told you to only attack the supply chain! Didn''t you stop her!?"

    "Yes, but she insisted..."

    "Damn! Did you try to get her out?"

    They looked at the ground. "No."

    "Why!?"

    "You... you ordered us not to endanger ourselves¡ª"

    Another one of them interjected. "I knew it! We should''ve¡ª"

    "No, no," Rory said, taking a deep breath. "You did the right thing."

    Rosa put a hand on his shoulder. "Don''t do something hasty."

    "Hasty... No, no I won''t." He cupped his head with his hands. "We''re... we''re going to stay on course. Push the remaining army to Ien. It''ll all be over then. Stay calm. Stay calm."

 Onwards

    Gray skies lied above, pierced by brief spurts of light. And that was indeed the mood; melancholy at the deaths of their brethren, intersperse with joy at the recent victory. The first half of the day would be dedicated to the dead. The men were armed not with arms, but with shovels.

    Aria was about to leave. Rory choose to wave her off.

    "Be safe."

    "Oh," she laughed, "not this again."

    "As for my answer... It will have to wait."

    "Only natural. Just remember¡ªafter this, either you or the King must die. There is no going back."

    "Mhm. Fighting a foreign invader is one thing... fighting your own countrymen is another."

    "Indeed. In any case, I should depart. Hope to see you soon."

    "You too. Watch out for Illan."

    "Tykis?"

    "That''s the one. There''s something... off about him. I don''t have time to explain." The Roniceri¡ªtheir "invisibility". He hadn''t the time to investigate, but he knew that Chronos could disable it. The question was: what is it, and how did Illan get his hands on it?

    "Will do. Goodbye."

    He watched her go down the now well-paved roads that led back to the capital before sighing and turning around. He had a grim job, and there already much on his mind. The next stop was the Vyncis abode, up on the hill. He entered unceremoniously, grabbed some money, and was on his way out when heard a voice call him.

    "Where are you going now?"

    "Why do you need to know?" he replied, turning around. It was Rosa.

    "Curiosity."

    "You should watch out, cats have nine lives but you only one."

    "Really, now, where are you going?"

    "Widow pensions."

    "A depressing task. Would you like me to go with?"

    He shook his head. "No, you would brighten up the atmosphere too much."

    She tilted her head in confusion. "Is that not desirable?"

    "They would be happy to see you... but I doubt they wish to be happy. Better to let it out than stay repressed."

    "Good point," she said, placing a finger to her mouth, "well, wish you luck."

    "Thank you," he replied, departing.

    He knocked on the first door, a drab thing made of molding oak wood, filled with pockholes. It opened, and a women no older than forty but no younger than thirty answered him.

    "Oh? You are that new lordling, are you not?"

    Rory tilted his head downwards. "I am sorry, Madame. Your husband has died on the battlefield."

    "Yes, I have... I have already heard."

    "I am sorry."

    "Don''t be, it''s not... it''s not..." She was breaking into tears on the spot.

    "I am sorry," he repeated. He then handed her a small sack, it''s contents jingling on the way. "Your first widow pension. 200 gild. I am sorry." He began to turn around, but felt a hand reach out.

    "Thank you. He... he fought for all of us. It is not your responsibility."

    He smiled and shrugged her hand off.

    Some took it much less amiably. When Rory told her what had happened, she froze.

    "He''s... he''s dead?"

    "Yes. I am sorry."

    "Y-you... you sent for him. Damn nobles, you always... you always do this shit! Fight your damn wars, plays your damn games, who cares about the lives you end."

    "I take full blame. I am sorry."

    "Shut up, you fucking short ass sister fucker¡ª"

    "Here is your first widow pension. 200 gild. It not enough a¡ª"

    She pounced on him, throwing him onto the ground, and began to punch and claw at his face. She got off two clean strikes before what seemed to be her brother, on a visit, pulled her off. He bowed and apologized.

    "I am truly sorry. She is deeply grief stricken, she didn''t mean it¡ª"

    "No," Rory said with a wave, "it''s fine."

    And yet, the violent ones did not hurt the most; no, the ones with children¡ªthe ones that smiled at him yet, the ones that forgave him, all while a son or a daughter called for their father in the back. Those hurt the most. But it wasn''t over yet. They would have more warring to do. The Aklan''s were the on the back foot now, and no doubt casualties would never be as high as that one day, but casualties there would still be. There was no changing that.

    There was still the matter of the captured Roniceri, but he couldn''t do much about it yet. Drive them to Ien; it would be all over there. If he could do it... but until then, there was naught to do but sit and wonder. The Aklan''s were in too much disarray to sneak a spy, and there was absolutely no way he would be sending in more Roniceri to investigate.

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    In the evening, he ordered the army to march. They would spend the next few weeks on the road, chasing the Aklan army. He had Aria''s Knights go ahead and harass pockets of Aklan soldiers, but kept most of his army in a solid group. They simply didn''t have the training for hit-and-run tactics, and he didn''t want to send more widow pensions.

    Finally, he had pushed the Aklan''s back to Ien. Ien was a medium sized settlement, with walls of its own. It served as a trading hub between Aklan and Adringum, and as such it was, until recently, in many ways more developed than the local capital, Sym. It served as a natural point of retreat¡ªthe Vyncis army couldn''t well go past it, and with the walls, the Aklan''s would have the defensive advantage. They could sit, and stand under siege until reinforcement arrived; at least, that was the plan.

    The army set up their tents, their fires and their supplies. Rory ordered the Artillery men forward.

    "Orders?"

    "Fire three blanks, wait a second, then two, wait another second, then three."

    The orders did not make much sense, but that was none of their concern. They saluted him and set to work.

    With nothing more to do, Rory wandered the camp, greeting the soldiers. Eventually, he ended up with the rest of the Roniceri.

    "Oh, hey!" one of them called.

    He smiled. "Good afternoon."

    "What''s with the cannon fire? Are we starting?"

    "No, not now," Rory answered, shaking his head.

    "Then what?"

    Rory chose not to answer, looking into the sky aimlessly. "I tend to lie, you see."

    "Hmm? What do you mean?"

    "You''ll see. If you get mad at me, it''s fine. I don''t blame you." He sighed.

    "We wouldn''t get mad at you."

    "Truly? Well, that''s good."

    There was silence for a while, before one of them spoke up: "...how do you think Eris is doing?"

    "Truth be told, I don''t know."

    "I''ll volunteer¡ª"

    "¡ªthat''s not happening. Not a single one of you is going anywhere near."

    They waited three days after the seemingly pointless cannon barrage. Then, Rory ordered the entire army forwards, in front of the eastern gate. Emi, that one Roniceri girl, appeared behind him.

    "That''s not good manners," he lectured.

    "Oh, sorry, I just¡ª" she sputtered.

    He laughed. "No, it''s fine. What is it?"

    "Why are we standing here?"

    "How else do we enter the city? Shall we fly atop the walls?"

    She blushed. "No, but, I mean, the gate... they''re not going to open by themselves."

    "What are you suggesting?"

    "We could... we could sneak in, and¡ª"

    "Ah, but you are mistaken."

    "Huh?" she said, tilting her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

    There was a creaking noise, and the great gates in front of them began to lift upwards.

    "The gates will open by themselves. See?"

    "Huh!?"

    Rory sighed. "You were the group I wanted to save. What about the other group?"

    "But, I thought they went back to Illan¡ª"

    "That was a lie. If they wanted to kill so badly, I''ll let them. I stuck them in Ien. To be honest, I was worried they might actually run back to Illan. I haven''t actually had contact for a few months. But it seems to have paid off." He looked up¡ªthe skies were dark and grey. If he listened carefully, he could hear the soft beginnings of thunder.

    "Oh, that was pretty smart!"

    He put a hand on her head. "It''s actually terrible."

    "Why?" she asked, confused.

    "I told you I didn''t want to order children to kill men. But weeks, months before then, I had already done that. It''s hypocrisy. I didn''t tell you because it was the way to end the war. Survive the first push, push them back to Ien, and finish them off here. If one of you gets caught, I can''t have anyone revealing this. That''s why I didn''t want to send you into battle¡ª"

    She giggled. "Oh, that''s alright. You try to sell yourself as evil far too vigorously. A true villian wouldn''t spend time throwing mud at his subordinates," she said, patting him on the back and disappearing.

    "I think I just lost. She''s twelve, isn''t she?" He looked on and smiled. "Alright, we start the invasion. Column form, four men thick. Use the streets as a bottleneck¡ªguns have the advantage, here."

    Having issued his orders, he went back to his tent, took off his cloak, changed into some clothes a farmer might have, and put on a cap, tucking his hair back. He slipped into the city and started looking¡ªit was time to do something hasty.

 No Time

    Rory looked up and felt the beginnings of a summer rain pitter and platter down onto his face. Incognito as a local farmer boy, the troops on both sides had mostly left him alone. He was looking¡ªlooking for the Roniceri he had lost. The masked girl, whose assassination of the enemy general very well may have caused his recent victory on the hills near Sym. It was his orders that had gotten her into this mess, and he figured he may as well get her out.

    He had looked in the obvious areas already¡ªjails, prisons. And then, he searched the areas of where the Commander in Chief, Prince Marcus may have been. But alas, he had yet to find either of them.

    The rain was starting to pick up. He nudged his hat into a closer fit. There was one last place he hadn''t bothered to look: a great Cathedral, located in the southern side of Ien. It was an old structure, made to worship gods that had been mostly abandoned by the local populace in the recent years. Of course, it was a startling piece of architecture, and was one of the city''s proudest features. There was one small problem: it was on the enemy''s side. The recapture had been swift and relatively painless by the Vyncis forces, or at least the parts that he had seen, but they, following his orders, were methodical and safe. It would be another few hours before they reached the southern quarters.

    But it was the one building of major importance that he had yet to look in.

    He shrugged; swords were not a particular threat to him, though he could only use Chronos once. Arrows were a bit more problematic, but the Aklan''s were not evidently a society that favored Archery. He hoped his civilian appearance would stave off any unwanted violence, and went forwards, towards the Cathedral.

    The rain had picked up now, and his feet splashed against the thin layer of running water that formed atop some of the muddier streets. He could hear gunshots and screams off in the distance, but thankfully not near him. If the others knew what he was doing, he''d certainly get an earful.

    Wide doors adorned with intricate mosaics soon popped into view. Rory''s pant legs were drenched, and they cuffed against his legs, but he gave them no mind. He slipped into the entryway.

    As soon as he entered, a voice boomed through. "Rory Vyncis, I presume?"

    Rory looked up; a youth, dressed in ceremonial military attire looked down on him from the platform that the altar sat on.

    And on his left, his hands held a handful of blonde hair leading down to a prim face. It was a girl, dressed in black fatigues. A mask lay forgotten to the left. Her face was bloodied and bruised. She had a small, resigned smile.

    Rory felt the rage building... but then, he took another look at the face. It seemed familiar, somehow. But to be honest, he didn''t know that many people, and certainly not that many girls of his age. Where had he seen this face? He walked through his memories... she wasn''t a villager in Sym... she wasn''t an acquaintance from the capital... what else had he done? The orphanage... the orphanage...

    "...Sarra!?" he cried. There''s no way, it couldn''t be¡ª!

    Marcus took a vile out from a pocket. "Rory, she has been poisoned. And only¡ª"

    "You fucker!"

    Marcus felt a shudder go through him. The next moment, Rory held him down by the neck and was pouring the liquid in the vial down his throat.

    "Antidote. Now."

    Marcus coughed and then smirked. "No."

    Rory slammed his head back against the ground. "You will die if you do not bring it out."

    "You will not give it to me. I know this. I will die, but I shall make you as miserable as possible." He began to laugh, a maniacal laugh of someone broken. The utter embarrassment at Sym had not been kind to him.

    Rory took Marcus'' sword, which had fallen to the side, and stabbed him in the gut, giving it a few turns for good measure.

    "Answer me!"

    "There is... no antidote... my alchemist made sure of it... she will die within the hour..." he coughed. "Suffer, Rory. Suffer."

    Rory fell to his knees. He crawled over to where Sarra laid on the ground.

    "No... no..."

    Sarra turned her head over slowly, spying him through swollen eyes. "Hey, there."

    "I thought... I thought you were dead..."

    She shook her head slowly. "Got kidnapped by some noble asshole. Hah! Gave us some useful tools, though..."

    "Why... why didn''t you tell me!? Why!? I wouldn''t have, I wouldn''t have sent you out!"

    "I don''t need you sheltering me."

    Tears were falling from his eyes now, landing on her face. He stroked her cheek. "I just had to find out now... damn it! Illan, you fucking traitorous lying cunt ass¡ª!" He broke off into a scream. "This is a joke, right. You''re joking. Please."

    "Rory..."

    "Did... did you forgive me? For leaving you behind?"

    She smiled, slowly and painfully. "Yes, I did."

    He felt so powerless; so helpless. It was... strange. There was nothing he could do... nothing at all. Just sit here, and watch her die. His first friend here in the future. Watch his first friend die, here, cut and bruised, blood all over her face.

    He remembered another time when he felt powerless.

    He remembered, sitting there, watching Rosa be taken away.

    What did he do? He did something about it. He vowed to do something¡ªto have the resolve to do something.

    His eyes spotted the vial; there was still some liquid left. He stuck it to his nose and took a whiff. It was faint, but... bitter almonds! It''s a solution of hydrogen cyanide. The gears in his brain began to turn at once.

    "Hey, Rory... I''m going to die anyway, so here goes... when you first got here¡ª"

    Cyanide is used commonly for industrial mining and metal treatment. Hydrogen cyanide is a common byproduct. The most common cure-all antidote was hydroxocobalamin, but hydroxocobalamin was a complex polymer... there was no way for me to procure it...

    "You looked kinda cute. Had a cute accent too. Then we took you out on our ''missions''... I regretted that to this day..."

    Which leaves the older antidote, sodium thiosulfate. It was, at least, a relatively simple molecule...

    "You should''ve seen Gilas'' face when you up and teleported. Then you came back with, what, 50 gild or something?"

    I needed a chemical reaction... a chemical reaction...

    "We got a little cocky. Kept stealing from bigger and bigger targets. Should''ve just staid back, laid low... Oh, I''m so sorry. It was our fault... we were the ones that got caught in the first place..."

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Aqueous sodium hydroxide with sulfur! That was the industrial method, it surely worked now...

    "We thought you were dead... me, Gilas, we were so guilt stricken... we killed you..."

    Where can I get sodium hydroxide? Sodium hydroxide... sodium hydroxide... wait, that was lye! Soap! If I can find where they make soap...

    "Without you, we didn''t have any more money... that noble bastard came over and bought the orphanage... He told us that he would relocate the other children if we cooperated... he told us that you were alive! And a noble. Well, how''s that! Little Rory was still alive, and he was living the high life..."

    Where the hell do I get sulfur? I have sulfur mines contracted, but there is no way I can get a shipment in time. Sulfur, sulfur... damn it! So close!

    "He put these things in our heads... he did something while we slept..."

    Where do I get sulfur!? Sulfur! I. Just. Need. Sulfur. Sulfur... sulfur... Gunpowder! It''s 3% sulfur!

    "We tracked you... or at least, I did. Damn if I didn''t want to punch that stupid guy''s face in. What was his name? Myell or something? But I shouldn''t interfere in your life, not yet, he said..."

    Separate sulfur... charcoal is less dense than water, it should float. Sulfur is more. Saltpeter is more too... But what the hell, I don''t have time for this! Just try it! She''ll die anyway, saltpeter won''t make it any worse!

    "You''re different, Rory... you were different... but still, I was sad when proposed to that girl... I don''t know when it started, but I... I lo¡ª"

    "Wait a second! I have something I need to do!" Rory exclaimed, standing up.

    Sarra weakly raised an arm towards him. "Please... just stay with me..." She could feel her vision fading...

    But he had run off already.

    Rory took a bucket from the stable and continued on his way. There was plenty enough gunpowder around, he just needed the lye. Soap, soap. Where did they make soap? Many rural households made their own, Rory knew that, but the city folk would need to purchase them. He knocked on a nearby door. After inspecting their guest, it opened, a rather gruff man answering.

    "Where do they make soap, here?"

    "Soap? Why''d you need to know that?"

    "My parents are soap-makers. With the war, I wish to ensure their safety," Rory lied.

    "Oh. The building next to the textile guild. From here, go straight. It''ll be on the right."

    Rory nodded and headed off. He transitioned into a run; Faster, faster! It was a race against time. Time? He looked down at his wrist; he had already used Chronos once today. He was too afraid of either damaging the device to stress test it, and had limited it''s usage to once per day. Well, who cares. He slammed the button down, and everything at once began to slow to a stop.

    The building was not too far away, and soon Rory raced into it. He searched the shelves, scanning until he found what he was looking far: a jar conveniently labeled as raw lye. The first piece found, he had run off to find gunpowder when he began to feel heat coming from his wrist, and soon the world came back into motion. Time, time! I need more time!

    He had no idea what would happened if he was to force Chronos to run again without letting it cool down, but he didn''t particularly care right now. The world began to slow back into comfortable stagnation.

    He looted a gunpowder horn from a nearby fallen soldier and ran back to the Cathedril''s kitchen. Chronos held up well enough, though it had begun to melt through the skin on his wrist, blood and pus oozing down his hands, but he didn''t particularly care about that either. He had to turn it off now, however, in order for the chemical reaction to actually occur.

    He filled a pot with water and poured the gunpowder into it. While the sulfur and saltpeter settled, he grabbed another pot, filled it somewhat with water, and set the lye into it. Then, with a pair of flint and striker he set a flame in one of the kitchen''s oven pits. He kept sneaking looks into the main hall; Sarra''s eyes were closed now, but that could be for any number of reasons. He had to keep going.

    Enough powder had settled at the bottom. He scooped the charcoal off the top and carefully poured the water out, collecting the remainder with a pan. He set the pot with aqueous lye onto the flame and placed the powder into it. He merely had to wait until it boiled.

    Oh shit...

    He just remembered¡ªthe reaction also created sodium sulfide, which would react with the stomach acid to make hydrogen sulfide, and hydrogen sulfide is just as bad as the bloody cyanide! Wait¡ªsodium sulfide is soluble in alcohol, but sodium thiosulfate isn''t...

    He grabbed some hard spirits from a shelf, poured it into a bottle, poured his precipitate from before in, and stirred. The powder that didn''t dissolve should be sodium thiosulfate! He poured the alcohol out, grabbed another bottle, poured water in it, and make a solution of aqueous sodium thiosulfate.

    This was it! The antidote!

    He rushed over to her and began to shake her gently, causing her to moan. Still alive! She was knocked out, however. No helping it¡ªhe poured the solution into his own mouth, and pressed his lips to hers, forcing the liquid down her throat in a very unromantic process. The liquid tasted like some strange mixture of pig fat, alcohol, and wood.

    It was up to luck, now. He unbuttoned her shirt, took it off, and pressed his ear to her breast.

    The Vyncis forces had taken over almost the entire city by now. Having noticed that Rory was missing hours ago, the Roniceri had gone on a search. Finally, they found him, crouched over with his ear on the breast of the masked girl they knew as Eris. They appeared in front of him, but didn''t speak a word. It was not the appropriate time. They stood there, waiting, for almost an hour.

    Finally, he stood up, slowly.

    His hair hung over his eyes, wet from the rain outside. "She''s..."

    They steeled themselves.

    "She''s..."

    He looked over at them, his eyes partly visible.

    "Still breathing!"

    ---

    Alright, if you did that in real life, not enough sodium sulfide would dissolve and you would kill yourself with hydrogen sulfide. So don''t do that.

 Rubicon

    A day had passed. The Aklan''s, with their Prince dead and their army eliminated, sued for peace. A diplomat would arrive sometime today. For now, Rory paid a visit to the camp hospital, a loose tent that stank with overpowering flowery smell¡ªmuch perfume had been used to cover the stench of blood and rotting flesh. A bit frantic, he rushed over to one of the nurses, who saluted him.

    "How is she?" he asked.

    "Same as before, my lord."

    He sighed. "Can you do nothing?"

    She shook her head. "Madness falls on many soldiers. It is only natural, after what they have been through. Some recover, some do not. Only the Gods decide."

    "May I visit her?"

    "Yes, of course." She caught him before he left. "I will say this. Mad she may be, but what madness sent a young girl like that out on the battlefield?"

    "I... I have no defense."

    "Well, no matter. You are victorious. I have no right to question your methods. Go, go and see her."

    He nodded and pushed through the tent flaps. There, scrunched up, hugging her knees together, was Sarra. She lifted her head and looked at him.

    "Papa... is it you?"

    "N-no, I am Rory Vyncis."

    She didn''t say anything after that, merely staring at the tent wall in front of her.

    "Do you recognize me?" he asked.

    "Yes," she said finally, "you visited me yesterday."

    He looked at his feet. "Yes... of course... Here, I brought you some fruit." He sat it down by her bed.

    "Papa says I can''t eat fruit."

    "Really?" he asked, making sure his tone was gentle.

    "It''s too expensive."

    "It''s okay, then. I paid for it."

    "Papa says we shouldn''t hold debts."

    "I''m giving it you as a gift. No debts."

    She looked at him, then slowly nodded and reached out for an apple. She began to eat it, slowly and deliberately. Rory watched her for a while, but heard someone calling for him.

    "I''ll be back soon, alright?" he promised.

    She didn''t respond.

    Outside, a few uniformed figures saluted him. "My lord."

    "You are the Roniceri I stationed in Ien?"

    "Yes, my lord."

    "You did well. Where is the masked one? Your leader?"

    That would be Gilas, wouldn''t it...

    "He went back to Illan, my lord."

    His eyes widened. "What!?"

    "He went back to Illan Tykis, my lord."

    "When?"

    "After you gave out our orders, my lord. He told us his intentions and left."

    "And you let him leave?"

    "You... you didn''t order us to stop him, my lord. If... if you wish, we shall go and assassinate him."

    Rory shook his head. "No, don''t do that. That damned Illan..."

    "Rory!" Cairn called.

    "What is it?" he asked, turning around.

    "The diplomat from Aklan is here. He waits in the Cathedral as you asked."

    "Thank you. Come, Cairn."

    A table was placed inside the main hall of the Cathedral. In one of the chairs sat a man. His hair was still a health brown, but his cheeks were engraved with laugh lines and small wrinkles. He wore the same robes all Aklan men did, colored in imperial purple.

    "Rory Vyncis. We are deeply apologetic. The late Prince Marcus, against all good council, acted against you in a fit of insanity. We are willing to make any amends."

    Sure he did...

    Rory smiled. "Of course. Now, onto business. I have 14,000 prisoners."

    The man bowed slightly. "We are offering 50 million gild for their ransom."

    A good sum. Rory would not be too demanding; painful war concessions ruined Europe in the late 19th Century, and he would not make the same mistake. "Very good. I accept."

    "Thank you. His Majesty wishes to inform you that war reparations will be decided at a later time, when we have consolidated our assets."

    "That is fine. Now," Rory said, snapping, "we shall also send him over."

    Some of his men brought out a wooden coffin.

    "Prince Marcus'' body."

    The diplomat looked genuinely sad¡ªan expert, that he was.

    Rory shook his head lightly. "I pay you my respects. He died as any Aklan should."

    "Honorably, in battle. I thank you." He took a drink of water offered to him.

    Rory smirked. "No, actually, he took one of my friend''s prisoner. I poured poison down his throat and stabbed him in the gut with his own sword."

    The man began to choke on his drink. "M-my, lord...!?"

    "Oh? What about it?"

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He quickly gathered himself, wiping the water off his robes. "...nothing. I... was merely surprised at your martial prowess."

    Rory looked down at himself. "Yes, I am not large in statue, but I have a great deal of time."

    The man''s eyes shifted around nervously. "I-I should take my leave."

    "Please do. Tell your master that he should pick his client''s more carefully."

    He gave a small start. He knew the plot, then? A confident to the King of Aklan? Well, it was no matter.

    He shuffled out, looking a little flummoxed.

    Rory noticed Cairn walking towards him.

    "What is it?"

    "Are you finished with the diplomat?" he asked.

    "Yes. It was a quick business," Rory said, waving his hand, "the actual negotiations will begin in a few months. Mostly, they want to buy their prisoner''s back. Need some kind of army, after all."

    Cairn handed him a piece of parchment. "I have a letter, here. From King Hellbram."

    Rory took it and began to read. He laughed when he finished.

    "What was so funny?"

    "Oh, nothing. I knew this would happen. The Aklan''s will send us the 50 million gild sometime this day. Dispense it among the men."

    "All of it?" he asked, alarmed.

    "All of it."

    "Building your reputation once more?"

    "Of course," he said with an exaggerated flourish.

    Rory began to walk out with Cairn following.

    "You know what the people call you these days?"

    "What? It''s not ''sister-fucker'' or some variation, is it?"

    Cairn smiled. "They call you the Gunpowder God."

    "I''m a God now?"

    "You rained death and called fire upon your enemies. Is that not what a god does?"

    "Technology, Cairn."

    "No matter," he laughed. "If the Gods are the masters of all wisdom, and technology derives from wisdom, then what is the man who dispenses technology but a God?"

    "Since when have you been so full of wit, Cairn?"

    "I have spent a great deal more time reading these days. If not antiquated works, then your blasted records."

    "Hope you had fun." Rory stopped for a minute. "The time is right..." he murmured. "Cairn, call assembly."

    "Right now?"

    "Right now."

    He nodded and set off.

    Half an hour later, Rory stood on a small platform erected in the middle of his war camp, all 10,000 or so remaining troops standing in attention before him.

    "You have done a great thing these past few weeks. In less than two months, you men went from tending to your soil to massacring the finest fighting force on the continent! A mere 11,000 of you faced off against 100,000 Aklans, and you won! 1,000 troops died on our side. 70,000 died on their side. There is not a single Vyncis that is held prisoner. 14,000 Aklans are held captive here. A heroic victory! Today, the Aklans come here, their tail tucked under, offering us 50 million gild for those captives¡ªthat is how thoroughly we destroyed their fighting forces. 50 million gild! As you all were the ones that did the deed, I am distributing all of the 50 million to you."

    A cheer rose up among the men. Rory held up his hand and waited for it to die down.

    "Now, there is another matter." He held the letter up. "A message, from King Hellbram, who did nothing when the Aklans were invading our land, who prevented the Ayell''s from helping until Aria ordered to the contrary. He says that I am a hero. He also request that I immediately disband my armed forces and come to the capital for an award."

    A few murmurs rose up.

    "Some of the brighter ones may already have noticed. Why did he not help us? Why did he hold the Ayell knights back? Why do I need to immediately disband my forces? He was the one who sent the Aklans! He invited them! All to ruin the Vyncis. Well, he saw how that worked out! Now, we are the only standing army in Adringum¡ªan army that has faced 100,000 men and won! He is afraid!"

    It was clear his plan. Some of the men cheered, but some were unhappy. They wanted to go back to the families, not fight a civil war.

    "He has invited me back as a hero! To ¡°honor¡± me! Will you let me take that "honor" alone!? Will you leave me to face them alone!? After I shed blood with you, ate with you, killed with you, will you let me go alone?"

    It was too much. There was a unanimous cry of "No!¡±

    "Come! Let us march to the capital! Let the King give us his "honor"¡ªtogether!"

    "Vyncis! Vyncis! Vyncis!" cheered the men.

    Rory looked over the men and smiled. Well, Aria. It is done. The die is cast.

 Falling Apart

    A table had been set in the great hall that extended from the throne room in the heart of the Royal Palace. There sat all the great families of Adringum¡ªAyell, Tynell, Tykis, Tydyll, Kywell, Hywin... The group lay encircled by members of the Royal Guard, all dressed in their finest armor.

    The King''s voice boomed out. "I am sure you are all aware of the purpose of this emergency conference." He looked out at their faces. "Rory Vyncis is marching towards our fair capital in an act of cowardly treachery."

    Hywin Senior, a feisty man, slammed his fist against the table. "Thank you for the obvious, dear King. Now, what in the name of hell are we supposed to do?"

    "He, like all traitors, shall be hung out¡ª"

    Hywin rose. "Hung! Hung!" he spouted incredulously. "With what, dear King? Oh, I suppose we shall all go towards his army and ask them very nicely if we can just, oh, hang their commander. That shall go well."

    King Hellbram settled his gaze on him. "He is but a boy¡ª"

    "A boy! A boy with a fucking army!"

    "It numbers only 11,000¡ª"

    "Only 11,000! Dear God, I appear to be in the wrong room. This must be the jester''s performance."

    "Calm yourself. He barely musters a legion."

    Hywin bent over the table to stare at Hellbram. "Barely a legion? Tell that to the Aklans, why don''t you? Where is our legion, huh? Where is our army? Oh, yes, it doesn''t bloody exist you fool! He will be here within two days! How in the name of hell are we supposed to raise an army in two days?"

    "We have some forces. The Royal Guard¡ª"

    "The Royal Guard! A bunch of ornamental scarecrows! They spend more time in the brothels fucking than they do fighting! 100,000 fucking men! The boy killed 100,000 fucking Aklans! The finest professional force on the bloody continent, and he butchered them! The Royal Guard!? The Royal Guard!?"

    He stood up and walked over to one of the men near the door. "You, other there!"

    "Y-yes, my lord?" he sputtered.

    "How many?"

    "Excuse me, my lord?"

    "How many today? You know what I am talking about. Speak."

    The guard shifted his gaze awkwardly. "T-three, my lord."

    Hywin turned theatrically towards the other nobles. "Three! Take a good look at him! Well, boy, your skill at fucking will be necessary when Rory Vyncis comes over and fucks you in the ass with a sword." He slumped back down in his chair. "The Royal Guard..."

    King Hellbram held up his hand. "You have a point, lord Hywin. Now, war is not our only option. Lord Vyncis, what say you? The boy is mad, but perhaps his father can still have sway. You will be justly rewarded, of course."

    Pier chuckled. "Vyncis stick to Vyncis, I''m afraid. I shall sooner cut my throat than sell my own son for you, my dear King."

    "There are other ways of coercion, my friend, than money."

    "Oh, and those are? I already threaten to suicide, what more shall you do? Kill me again? Kill my wife? She appears to be dead. Feel free to stab her corpse. Kill my daughter? Oh, well, she appears to be with our little traitor. Accost my estate? I think my son shall inherit it none the less, Hellbram."

    "I am sorry that you will not mediate peace."

    Pier smirked. "I am sorry as well."

    "Now that that foolishness has been thrown out, what are to do with the army at our footsteps, King?" Hywdin interjected.

    "We shall retreat¡ª"

    Hywdin threw his arms up. "Retreat! Give up our own bloody capital! May as well surrender now."

    "We shall retreat to the west. We can rebuild our army and crush him. We leave on the morrow."

    There was silence.

    "Come, do you really think Rory Vyncis would take kindly to you all? He is born of lower status! Only granted his noble title by my will, and I can rescind it. Rory Vyncis has been stripped of his titles. Who will follow him now?"

    There was still silence.

    "A stupid boy, born from the filth. Will you let him step on you? Follow me, and we shall return triumphant. Without you, how shall he have power with the people? How shall he administrate the provinces? By appointing his peasants? His rule will crumble like sand! He has nothing without you!"

    Aria smiled and stood up. On her cue, nearly half of the noblemen stood up with her.

    "What is it, Ayell?"

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    She shook her head. "I am afraid that we cannot follow."

    "After you defied me once, girl, you dare to repeat the act?"

    She nodded to her left. "Kywell?"

    Lorem sighed. "King Hellbram, with all due respect, the Kywell family takes pride in nothing if not our information. And..." He stared at him. "My little birds have told me an interesting tale. Why, it seems that someone orchestrated the recent invasion of Adringum by Aklan."

    Aria nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Kywell. Well, Hellbram, what say you to that?"

    "Your little birds have a... far reach. Who would do such a thing, I wonder?"

    "Of course, of course. But, with such treachery in our midsts, however shall we be safe in the west? I think we shall stay right here. You may run, if you wish. Isn''t that right, Tykis?"

    Illan smiled and rose, but suddenly stopped. If one was to listen closely, they might hear whispers enter his ear from the shadows.

    "He knows."

    Illan looked towards Aria. "Ah, but I afraid that we shall be going with dear Hellbram, here."

    Aria''s eyes widened for a second, but she quickly recovered. "That is fine, Tykis. We are not holding anyone hostage. you are free to go."

    The King''s eyes swept the standing nobles. "Enough with this foolishness! Are you going to follow this, this girl?"

    Lorem spoke up. "At least this girl does not invite foreign invaders into our land."

    Hellbram slammed his fist on the table. "Fine! We shall see how your defiance goes when your heads sit atop pikes after I have returned. Any who wish to keep their honor as the Tykis does, come with me. You shall be rewarded beyond imagination." The King rose and turned to leave. "Adjourned!"

    A robed man knocked on the doors of the Tydyll estate.

    "Who''s here?" the gatesman asked.

    "A messenger."

    "From whom?"

    "Not yours to know."

    "I am not to¡ª"

    A voice sounded from behind. "Let him in."

    "If... if you say so, my lord," the gatesman answered, confusion in his voice.

    The doors creaked open, and the robed man slipped in. He walked with expertise into Myell''s study, a comfortable room, with its own hearth and water basin.

    Myell looked at him. "What do you want?"

    "Today, we face a terrible threat, one that¡ª"

    "Shut up and get to the point," Myell ordered.

    "O-of course, my lord. Rory Vyncis is near..."

    "And?"

    "Who was it that gave you those scars on your face, my Lord? Who was it that humiliated you, my Lord?"

    Myell looked at him with more interest. "Go on."

    "Rory Vyncis will need unity... he needs to show the other nobles that he is no bloodthirsty tyrant. What better way to do that than to befriend his past enemy, Myell Tydyll? Offer your friendship, my lord, then, slip this," he said, pulling a vial from underneath his robes, "into his drink."

    Myell began to laugh, a manic laugh. He pulled out a sword and thrust it into the man''s face. "This... this is the sword that Rory impaled near my face. This is the sword of justice."

    "Of course, my lord."

    "I think a new union shall be born on this day," he said, smirking.

    The robed man laughed. "We think alike, my lord. It is only natural."

    Myell shook his head. "I believe you are mistaken."

    "Mistaken?"

    "It is not you and I, but you and this sword."

    "Ah, I think I understand¡ª" He began to cough violently, blood slipping out his mouth. When he looked down, he saw Myell''s sword, impaled into his chest. "W-why¡ª"

    "You and the sword have become one! Congratulations!"

    The robed man crumbled onto the floor. "Y-you should be bitter enemies¡ª"

    "Rory Vyncis defeated me honorably in battle. You and that bastard King do shit like this." He grabbed the man and lifted him by his hair. "As if I would stoop to poisoning the man. I shall have my revenge! Honorably.  Just as he did me, or else it would be as using the ocean''s water to quench thirst."

    ¡°The King is your ally¡ª¡°

    Myell let the man fall and called for a servant. "Change of plans. We stay. No, in fact, begin to muster our troops. ¡° He crouched down and brought his face next to the robed one¡¯s. ¡°The King is my father¡¯s ally. I am not my father.¡±

 Illan

    Today, in Adringum''s capital, there was a strange mood in the air. Soldiers lined the streets. People peeked out windows to catch a glimpse at the happenings. But everyone knew it; the city was captured. There was no resistance; they had let them in. Half of the nobles who pledged to protect them had fled, and the other half had welcome the new tyrant with open arms. It was a time of turmoil, and turmoil never favored the people.

    Rory had already messaged with Aria via letters and couriers, but he would formally meet her, and the rest of the nobles who stayed, at the Royal Palace. As she advised, he marched there with his forces¡ªa show of force, if you will. Really, he was just tired of it all by now. But there was still one last matter he had to attend to.

    The nobles welcomed him in a circle, with Aria at the charge. She walked over.

    "Welcome, glorious liberator, he who has removed the tyrant Hellbram from our country, he who¡ª"

    "Okay, I don''t really give a shit. Aria, can I talk to you for a second? Alone?"

    She looked shocked for a second, but quickly recovered. "Why, of course," she answered, moving with him to a corner.

    "Where is Illan?"

    "Tykis?"

    "What other Illan is there?"

    "He fled with the King."

    "What?"

    She shook her head. "I was surprised as well. He''d been a driving force in the movement and one of your allies for a long time."

    "Damn it! Aria, this ceremony can wait. I need to chase after them. Where are they going?"

    "To the west, that''s all I know¡ªwait, Rory, do you understand how important this is?"

    "No, and I don''t care to know. Tell them that, that we need to finish Hellbram off or something."

    "But Rory, you could just leave them in exile, they can''t do anything¡ª"

    "I am chasing after them. Oh, yes, and I need you to provide accommodations for some twenty children, black fatigues, can turn invisible, you understand?"

    "Erm, no?"

    "Well, fine. I don''t either. Give them some nice rooms, and whatever you do, do not tell them that I am chasing Illan."

    "Can you explain a little more?"

    Rory sighed. "It''s a long story, and I don''t have the time. The gist is that I am afraid that Illan still exerts some amount of control over them, but I don''t want to tell them that. They will no doubt wish to follow me if unattended. That''s why I need you to lie and make excuses and all that good stuff." He turned around. "I''m going, wish me luck."

    "Are you going alone!?"

    "Indeed. I''ve got too much time on my hands, see," he said, taking off at a light pace.

    She reached out for him. "Wait, stop¡ª" she pleaded, but gave up with a sigh. She turned around and smiled awkwardly at the remaining nobles. "Well, it seems that Rory has, uh, bowel issues right now? He may not see you for... a few weeks. Please be... patient..."

    It had been a few days. Rory rode hard, and, he calculated, he would catch up with the fleeing nobles soon enough, given the chain of goods and servants that would no doubt follow them.

    As the forest cleared up in front of him, he saw wisps of smoke float upwards on the horizon; it was probably their fires. The time was a little off; the day was still young, in the off period between breakfast and lunch where there would likely be no cooking, but it didn''t really matter.

    He dismounted and started stalking forwards. He would get close, turn on Chronos, abduct Illan, and get out. Dangerous, perhaps, but there was no way he was letting Illan escape. He was too important, both emotionally and pragmatically.

    As he neared, something seemed off. The smoke was much thicker than he expected. Why would they have bonfires? Sensing that something was wrong, he hurried along. When he rounded the top of the hill, his question was answered: numerous caravans, tents, and other pieces of furniture sat on great pyres, on which hundreds of corpses laid, burning away.

    And there, in of the clearing, watching everything with a smile, was Illan. Rory turned on Chronos and sprinted forwards. He must''ve killed everyone else. But why? And how?

    When he got only a few feet from Illan, he took another look at his face on a whim. There he was, standing in the middle of the carnage, a neutral look on his face, as if he was considering something.

    Wait.

    Rory backed off immediately, pulling out his sword.

    "Stop with the charades," he said, eyeing Illan warily.

    At once, he broke off from his pose and smiled at Rory. "How''d you know?"

    "You were smiling before. Now you''re not."

    "Oh. I was hoping to have some fun. Alas, my acting skills are not up to par."

    "How can you move?"

    "You very well know the answer to that. Do you think your the only one from the past? The only one with alien technology?"

    Rory held the sword up. "How are you still alive then? Borrowed time like me?"

    "I didn''t finish," he said, holding up his hand. "Do you think you''re the only one? Well, if you did, you''d be correct. I am not from your time."

    "Then how¡ª"

    "But someone else is. Someone very familiar with those Alien''s you detest so much."

    "Who?"

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.       Illan laughed. "In a lonely space, in a lonely cell, there lies the only man to truly survive the invasion. He told me."

    "Thanks for the cryptic bullshit. Really helpful."

    "It''s all I can offer, I''m afraid. Now, Rory, what do you want? You''re pointing that sword very menacingly."

    Rory carefully began to advance. "You are unarmed. Even if time flows for you, you are still at a disadvantage. You will come back with me as a prisoner, and I will find out exactly how you''re doing all of this."

    "I''m not going to fight you."

    "You will surrender, then? I doubt it. What''s your trump card?"

    "Very intuitive of you. I have something of value." Illan snapped his fingers. A masked figure appeared next to him. He unsheathed a blade and held it beside his neck. "Surely you know who this is?"

    Rory stopped. "...I do indeed."

    "It appears we are at a standstill."

    "It appears so." He relaxed his stance. "If you are feeling so generous with your information, how exactly did you control him?"

    "Humanity is at the brink of elimination. And yet, there is still squabbling and complaining over the most trivial of issues. Police brutality, child cruelty. What''s that compared to the crisis the entire species face?"

    "Is this something your friend told you?"

    "Correct. And so he and his friends devised a way to control the people. Focus their minds upon one singular task. You, too, were under their spell. Did you not feel overwhelming anger and indignation at the evident defeat of humanity?"

    Rory thought about it; it was true, he was quite adamant about saving humanity when he first arrived. The attitude only changed when he was beaten... just as Sarra was...

    Illan shrugged. "He merely passed on that technology to me. And now, your little friend feels a stronger impulse to die than disobey me."

    "Why did you kill all of them?"

    "That was my intention all along. Worthless idiots. The only people who should be in power are people like you or me, people who know what humanity''s true potential is."

    "Why are you doing this?"

    "Why? well, I don''t exactly want to be taken prisoner and tortured for information."

    "You know what I mean. How long have you known about me? What are you scheming for?"

    "I realized that you are not of this time when we first met. Normal people can not teleport. As for my plans, I merely want to strengthen humanity. Come, Rory, put down your weapon and join me. I have helped you out a great deal."

    "Such as?"

    "The Roniceri, for instance. Trained in weapon usage, given alien technology, brain washed to be absolutely loyal to you. What''s not to love?"

    "How about the part where they are more loyal to you than me?"

    "Given our current situation, it was a good idea, no?" Illan said, shrugging. "Well? Will you join me?"

    "You can go suck one."

    "I was afraid you would say that." His face turned harsh. He drew a blade. "You do not approve of my methods, correct?"

    "Correct," Rory said, backing off.

    "Then you will either kill me and your friend, or keep your ideal and die. Strike me and he will commit suicide."

    Rory continued to back off.

    "Continue to retreat and he will commit suicide."

    Rory grimaced and stopped. Was there no way out? Illan was getting closer and closer. Soon, he was in striking distance.

    Illan shook his head. "So, you choose your ideals? A damn fool, that''s what you are," he said, raising his blade.

    Live, live! He had to live... that was the decision he made. But he made it too late. The blade was falling, and it was too late to stop it.

    And then the blade kept falling. It fell and fell, off to the side, bouncing harmlessly on the ground. The hands that once held it were frozen in the air, spasming slightly.

    A blade was pierced through Illan''s chest. But the blade also went through another chest.

    He coughed, specks of blood coming out. "Apparently... if they want to die and disobey me... it doesn''t work out so well for me," he said, laughing at the end.

    The masked one, or Gilas, immediately dropped to the ground, dead. His sword had first pierced his heart, then entered into Illan''s lower torso. Illan dropped down soon after him.

    "Listen to me, Rory. I have some final advice for you. You may mourn for your friend later."

    Rory knelt by the two of them.

    "Out far in the east... in the great Empire that rules in the center... there''s one of them..."

    "Them?"

    "Those aliens of yours. A nascent one, one that has yet to understand what they are. Find it, train it, kill it, but do not let her run free. There are others in this world that know as you and I do. Find her before they find her."

    Illan coughed again. "There was a saying, back in a time before even yours.

    "Born too late to explore the world, born too early to explore the stars. Born just right to browse dank memes."

    He laughed. "Plenty of opportunity to explore the world now. Will you complete the rest?"

    ¡ª

    At this point I don''t care about the way this plot thread is going. Half of this was written a month ago.

 Polo

    Mei sighed; it was her second attempt to gain an audience in the Imperial Court, and she had been, once again, rejected. Her money had run out, her list of friends was shrinking, and her debts were rising...

    Really, she couldn''t afford to be eating at a restaurant as she was. But with her housing plans as dubious as they are, she wasn''t exactly sure what else to do. She''d have to run off without paying her bill. That was okay¡ªshe would move out of the city soon regardless. Maybe westward; she''d heard tales of the people living near the sea: rich, exotic, scientific, rich....

    She looked over to her left; there was a little commotion going on. A foreign looking man, young, with dark hair, was trying, and failing, to communicate to the waitress. She listened more attentively and perked up; it was the common tongue spoken in the far West. She had once studied under some Western priests, and knew the language fairly well. She stood up and walked over.

    "Hello? Are you from the West?" she asked.

    "Oh, yes! You can understand me?" he replied, visibly relieved.

    She nodded. "I knew some priests of yours. What''s the problem?"

    He scratched his head. "I''m not really sure how to pay..."

    "You don''t have money?"

    "No. I only brought liquidized goods. Can gold suffice?"

    She turned towards the waitress and asked if he could pay in gold.

    "She says that you may."

    He pulled out a bag from inside his cloak and placed a rather large nugget of gold on the table, causing most of the onlookers to look at him with envy; of course, they didn''t dare to do anything, not so close to the Imperial Palace.

    "Will that be enough?" he asked, looking towards her to translate.

    "That... that will be more than enough..." she answered, a little dazed.

    "Oh, I''ll pay for your meal as well, then. For thanks."

    My luck finally turned around!

    "Thank you very much, uh...?"

    He looked up in thought for a minute. "Marc. With a ''c''. And what is your name?"

    "Mei." she answered.

    He motioned for her to sit down. "No last name?"

    "No, well, uh, I don''t really want to talk about it."

    "Why?"

    "It''s... Cuo."

    He nodded. "Okay. What''s wrong with that?"

    She sighed. "It''s a... pun. And a bad one."

    "Really? In what way?"

    "It means... wait, why am I telling you!?"

    "Just curious."

    "You haven''t even told me your last name!"

    "Oh, why, look at the time. I have to go," he said abruptly.

    "Where?"

    "The Imperial Palace. I had heard that the Empress likes to meet travelers, foreigners, and scholars, and thought I''d get an audience with her."

    She looked down. "Don''t get your hopes up. I... I was just there."

    He looked down at her. "Would you like to come with me?"

    "Why would I do that?"

    "Well, I''ll need a translator, and I think I have a pretty good chance at meeting her, which will let you do whatever you wanted to do."

    She thought about it for a minute. It was true that she was desperate to talk to the Empress; she would definitely recognize her genius when she showed her the device she had made! It would revolutionize writing! The man, if nothing else, seemed to have a lot of gold. Perhaps he could bribe his way in... no, probably not, but it was worth a chance!

    Finally, she nodded.

    "Good, let''s go," he said, smiling.

    "What are you, anyways?"

    "Me?" he asked, pointing at himself. "I''m a wandering magician."

    Great red gates carved with intricate designs and covered with gold welcomed the two into the Imperial Palace. The Palace was located on a slight incline upwards and blocked by a moat, with walls over 10 meters high surrounding the insides. Hundreds of guards could be seen patrolling the area, with four holding the gates.

    "Tell them I''m here for an audience and that I''m a magician from the West."

    She sighed and transferred his message, feeling a little idiotic at the ''magician'' part. "They want a demonstration."

    He nodded and walked up to them.

    Wasn''t he going to bribe them!? Is he really trying to get in with a magic trick? This was a waste of time after all...

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    He snapped his fingers. At once, sparks of all colors ran out from his sleeves and into the air, accompanied by crackling noises. The guards flinched back, startled. Then, they nodded.

    "They... grant you permission..." she said, a little stupefied. Was he actually a magician?

    He only nodded, an annoying ''I-told-you-so'' smile on his face.

    Escorted by the guards, they entered the main hall of the palace. But right before, Marc took out a vial and poured it into his mouth. When Mei looked closely, she could see his cheeks bulge a bit, but she didn''t mention it. Finally, the Empress came into view, her young daughter nearby. They were both dressed in flowering gowns of silk, probably worth more than everything Mei had ever owned in her life. She felt a little intimidated at the Imperial aura of the place; this was no place for a peasant like her.

    The Empress spoke: "You come from the West, have you not?"

    "You can speak our tongue?" he asked, a hint of bemusement in his voice.

    "I can indeed. We have entertained merchants and other... eccentric travelers before. What have you come for? I have heard that you are a... magician?"

    Marc walked up. "I am Douglas McAruthur, and I am a magician who has wandered the lands, all the way here. I can breathe fire¡ª" He held his fist up and blew from his mouth, a wave of flame shooting across the room. "Or cause colors to erupt in the sky," he continued, opening his cloak, where the same sparks from before appeared in greater numbers, racing into the air.

    The Empress giggled in a very dignified, imperial fashion. "That is a very good skill to have, Douglas McArthur."

    "But," he interrupted, "what I have truly come here to do is¡ª" He paused and reached down into his cloak, pulling out a strange, thin thing out. It looked like a metal stick bent into a ''U'' with two circles appearing at one end. He walked over to the Empress'' daughter, who had enjoyed the show so far.

    Guards blocked his way, but the Empress waved them away, an amused look on her face.

    He knelt by her and placed the device on her head. She blinked a few times and then said something to her mother in delight.

    "You... have made the world clearer?" she asked, a hint of shock in her voice.

    "I had heard that the Empress'' daughter, while being beautiful and excelling in all arts and studies, had poor vision. My magic can correct that," he said bowing.

    "You... you are truly interesting!" she said with a laugh. "Come, you do not have a place to stay this night, do you?"

    "No, I do not. In fact, I have no place of lodging, being a wanderer."

    "Then stay a while at the Royal Palace, would you please? Rooms will be prepared for you, and... your consort?"

    "Me?" Mei said. "Oh, no, I wouldn''t, not with him, uh, no, I, uh, no, uh¡ª"

    "She is my assistant and translator," Marc interrupted. "Please provide lodgings for her as well."

    "It is done. Enjoy your stay. I do hope you will join us for dinner."

    "Of course. I will retire, then. It has been a long journey here."

    "As you wish."

    As the guards brought them away, Mei began a series of inquiring whispers:

    "Didn''t you say your name was Marc?"

    "Yes, it''s Adolf Hitler. What about it?" he said offhandedly.

    "Wasn''t it McArthur something?"

    "Stalin? Yes, I''m Joseph Stalin."

    "Stalin? No, you said you were Hitler..."

    "Winston Churchill, indeed, that is who you have."

    "What? No, but... you know, I don''t care anymore..." she said with a sigh. "In any case, whatever your name is, thank you for letting me in."

    "What was your original intention anyway? Did you want to sputter in front of the Empress? Admiral goal," he said with an annoyingly wry smile.

    "I had an invention," she said defensively, "it used blocks of inscribed wood and... wait, I can''t tell you!"

    "Oho? A device for printing letters?"

    Her eyes widened. "How did you know!?"

    "I know everything. In any case, I''d like you to show me later."

    The guard directed him into his room.

    He waved at her. "Well, I think I shall take a nap. See you at dinner," he said, entering his quarters.

 Adventure

    A servant soon called a nervous Mei and a sleepy Marc from their quarters. He was dressed as shabbily as ever, wearing an old worn traveler''s cloak with plain brown trousers and a white tunic. She had spent the last few hours trying to get something presentable for the Empress'' court¡ªhe could at least try.

    They headed their way towards the dining area, a large hall illuminated by hundreds of lamps and candles. A long table was placed in the center with several smaller ones on the sides. Foods of all kinds were placed there¡ªfresh sea food from the coastal cities, rice from the plains, cheese from the highlands, and bread from the Western nations.

    Mei noticed that two chairs had been left empty¡ªdirectly besides the Empress and her daughter at the end of the table. She immediately began to feel nauseous; the people next to her were too important! Surely there was a mistake; not even great generals and warlords sat there! She had planned on hiding in some corner until the affair was done, but...

    Marc, or whatever his name was, lazily walked over and sat down in the chair next to the Empress. Was he crazy? Actually, she already knew the answer to that one.

    She sighed, steeled herself, and followed him over, trying to make herself as small as possible. The people around her immediately gave her strange looks, but they were soon drawn away by her more interesting neighbor, who had immediately engaged himself in conversation. The high members of the Empress'' court, no doubt a little insulted that a mere stranger was allowed to sit in such a high position, spoke about politics, philosophy, and finally mathematics, trying to find in him a mistake.

    Mei had no idea what they were talking about. When it came to mathematics, she thought they had finally reached a topic she could understand, but then they started talking about so-and-so feets of chicken and cow and how many chickens and how far would a ball thrown would land and finding the circumference of a circle and finding the distance traveled with a polynomial velocity and she quickly found herself lost. Marc, however, seemed to have all he answers, and the questions he countered with seem to have no answer at all until he explained.

    Dinner ended with many bitter courtesans and a very confused Mei. The servants escorted them back and she went to sleep, exhausted.

    Soon after, she heard aggressive knockings at her door. She quickly dressed herself and answered, finding two guards and Marc.

    He yawned.

    "What you did you do now!?" she asked, a little panicked.

    "Dunno. Ask them. I can''t"

    She quickly did just that. They explained that he was found in an area that he shouldn''t have been in. She translated for him.

    "Oh, really now? Well, I was just looking for the bathroom. Tell them that, okay?"

    She explained that he was looking for the bathroom, emphasizing that he was both a foreigner and stupid. They left, satisfied.

    She sighed and collapsed on the ground, relieved. "Why can''t you just be normal?"

    "How is going to the bathroom abnormal?" he protested.

    "Normal people don''t wander around the Imperial Palace at night!"

    "Even if they have to pee?"

    "Even if they have to pee!"

    He looked absorbed in thought. "But I really had to go."

    "You''re an idiot!"

    He smiled and turned to leave.

    "Wait, you''re not going back wandering, are you?"

    "Well," he replied, "I still have to go to the bathroom."

    "Can you stop!?" she protested, getting up to stop him.

    A sharp glint shone in his eyes, freezing her. "I am not here only to play the fool," he said. "If you move anymore..."

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    "W-what..."

    "Your robes will fall off more."

    She finally noticed that her sash had come undone, and a good deal of skin was showing. She quickly covered up with her arms and turned away. "W-why didn''t you tell me earlier!?"

    "Well, I don''t have a camera, so I had to burn the image into my mind."

    "Get out!"

    He laughed and stepped out. "Goodbye, then. See you tomorrow."

    A little before noon, after a servant had brought in breakfast, Marc entered her quarters.

    "What is it...?" she asked hesitatingly. "Did you try to find the bathroom again?"

    "Nope, but we need to go."

    "What have you done!?" she asked, horrified.

    "Nothing!" he said defensively. "We''re not being banished or anything."

    "Really? You''re not about to follow up with a ''but'', are you?"

    "Really. In fact, we''re on a imperial mission. There''s been a conflict in some of the borderlands to the south. We have to resolve it."

    "Once the Imperial Army steps in, the conflict should resolve itself, shouldn''t it?"

    "We don''t have the army with us."

    "Even an Imperial Auditor would be enough to cow most peoples."

    "Nope, we''re the only ones going."

    "What."

    "What about it?"

    "How did this happen!?" she said, grabbing his collar and shaking him around.

    "Weelll, those dinner guys were like ''There''s no way to resolve this without imperial intervention'' and I was like ''there totally is'' and they''re like ''then do it'' and I''m ''okay'' and here we are."

    Ignoring his strange pattern of speech, she cried: "Why can''t you just sit down and shut up for once...!"

    "Well, that wouldn''t be fun. Don''t be so down about it. It''s an adventure."

    "I''m going to kill you or myself or both."

    "You can do that later. Come on, the carriage is waiting."

    With much reluctance, she dragged her way to the stable, where there was indeed a carriage waiting. It was lathered in red and gold. Stepping inside, she found the interior both very large and very soft. Though it was very comfortable, there was about it she felt she was missing.

    A little ways onto the journey, she found out what is.

    "Was this given to us specifically by the Empress?"

    "Hmm? No, I asked for it. She suggested a plainer one, but I''ve been traveling plainly for too long. I want some comfort for once."

    "You''re an idiot! A huge idiot! We''re going to get eaten alive by bandits! We''re a huge red flag! And we have no guards! You''re actually going to kill me. Why. What did I do for the gods to treat me so unjustly..."

    "Calm down, calm down."

    "How can I calm down!?"

    "You''re going to wake our guest."

    "...guest? Isn''t it just the two of us?"

    "Well, it was supposed to be, but we have a little surprise," he said, reaching behind his seat.

    He lifted a little girl, dressed in fine silk, and put her on the seat. She yawned and looked at Mei.

    Who was she? Wait, she''s seen her before... when... at the dinner? Yeah, but where...

    "Looks like we have a real Princess with us!" Marc said happily.

    It dawned on her then. "You... You...!"

    "It wasn''t my doing! She sneaked by her own free will."

    "When the Empress hears of we will be executed! EXECUTED!"

    "No, I''d imagine we''ll be tortured then executed," he added.

    "THAT''S NOT BETTER!"

    "Well," he said, smiling, "that''s just how life goes sometimes."

 Travel

    Having finally calmed down, Mei sighed and asked, "Princess, er, your Majesty¡ª"

    "You can call me Rina."

    "...Princess Rina, why did you... uh, honor us with your presence?"

    She thought for a minute, before exclaiming, "it''s a secret!"

    "But¡ª" Mei objected, before realizing who she was arguing with.

    "Don''t worry about it, she''s here. We''ll return her after we''re done with the request."

    "What!? We''re not turning back?"

    Marc gave her a look as if she was stupid. "Of course we''re not going back now. It''ll be our fault then. This, at least, gives it us more options. Maybe the Empress will forget or something."

    "It''s her daughter!"

    "...on second thought, she probably won''t forget. But we could escape the country or something. In any case," he said, looking towards the young princess, "you will cooperate with us, yes?"

    She nodded in response. "Rina has something she needs to do."

    "So she can disguise herself as just a random girl. No problems there, I doubt many people have seen the Imperial Princess, after all."

    "...I suppose."

    "Great; now that that''s settled, I want to take a nap."

    Mei sighed again and slumped into her seat. "This isn''t going to go well..."

    They continued to travel outwards. True to his word, Marc soon fell asleep, leaning against the door. The princess was next, falling asleep against Marc. Mei felt that a princess should really have more reservations about sleeping next to strange men, but there wasn''t much she could do about it.

    She herself was too agitated to sleep, and instead spent the time fidgeting and thinking about the terrible things that could happen to her.

    As the orange rays of sunset began to permeate through the small cabin, the carriage suddenly came to a stop. Marc woke up instantly, while Mei was already on alert. There was a knocking on the wall behind Marc, and a panel slide open, revealing the driver.

    "Bandits," he spoke in rough Western.

    "How many?"

    "6 or so."

    Marc sighed. "Not an unexpected obstacle. Hand me a sword."

    "Will you fight? Ay, more help is good," the driver said as he tossed a worn iron short sword through the slot.

    Mei looked at Marc seriously. "We should try negotiating first. If that falls through, I''ll take the princess and run. We can''t let her fall into the hands of bandits."

    The princess had woken up. "What''s going on?"

    Marc looked over and smiled. "There are bad men outside."

    "Don''t worry, your Majesty, we will keep you safe if it means our lives," Mei reassured her.

    "Won''t Yao Tzen or Zhan Sun save us?" the princess said, a little worry in her voice.

    "I have no idea who those are."

    "They''re Heavenly Warriors; legendary masters of martial prowess who do good deeds and fight evil," answered Mei.

    "Superheroes, got it. Well, don''t worry, I''m more than enough."

    The princess looked at him wide-eyed. "You are? Really?"

    "Yes," Mei sighed, "he is." This was ridiculous, but she needed to play along.

    "Driver, keep going," Marc directed.

    "Plan?" he asked, while shooing the horses forward.

    "Tell me when we get close to them."

    "200" he said, referring to the distance.

    "150"

    "100"

    "50"

    Mei tensed up.

    "Hey, do you have a handkerchief?" Marc asked offhandedly.

    "Huh? Well, yeah, I do..."

    "Do you mind if it gets a bit bloody?"

    "What? Uh... no, I guess..."

    "Give it to me."

    "Sure..." she said, handing it over. What was he going to do?

    "They are here," the driver said gravely.

    Marc lifted the sword out of its sheath. "I never like doing this," he said with sad smile.

    Suddenly, he seemed to shift in place slightly, as if his body teleported slightly to the left. What was more striking was that the right edge of his sword was now coated in a thick layer of fresh blood. Screams could be heard outside.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The driver turned back, "they''re all..." he began, slowing as he saw Marc''s bloody sword, "...dead."

    Marc didn''t respond, simply wiping the blood off of the sword.

    No one said a word for a bit. Then, the princess spoke up: "D-did you do that?"

    "Why, yes, I did."

    "Wow, you''re amazing!" the princess exclaimed, a sparkle in her eyes.

    "But how¡ª!" Mei interjected.

    "I am very fast," Marc said simply.

    "But¡ª"

    The princess was the one who interrupted her this time. "He''s a Heavenly Warrior; they can do anything!"

    "This guy, a¡ª" she began, but stopped herself. Six men had died, and there was only one person who could''ve done it. It was an inhuman feat¡ªshe couldn''t deny it.

    "I am nothing so great, simply a magician, who uses trickery and techniques to do the impossible. A magician cannot, however, reveals his arts."

    "Wow, you''re so cool!"

    "Am I not? Aha!"

    The princess continued to praise Marc and he continued to indulge it in. Mei could do nothing but sit and sigh. She did, however, feel more and more that he was not as plain as he said he was.

    In a few days of travel, they neared their destination. They met one or two more interruptions, but they were quickly resolved. Marc stopped the carriage at a nearby stable. He wandered off for a bit and came back with a wooden wagon and two plain sets of robes.

    "Here, wear these. We''ll be keeping this carriage here; from now on, we''re incognito."

    "Are we seriously running then?" Mei asked.

    "What? No. We''re going to do our jobs. This is part of that."

    Mei looked over at the princess, who was fiddling with her brownish folds of cloth.

    "No, really, we''re not running. Yet."

    The driver came near.

    "Ah, yes, you''re dismissed. Here''s your pay."

    He nodded. "Ay. I be around. Will come with you again, very impressive sword." He walked off.

    "Who will drive, then?" Mei asked.

    "I will."

    "Do you know how?"

    "Probably."

    She sighed. "Good enough."

    After the girls changed their clothes, they continued their journey. They were only a few hours away from the supposed center of trouble. Loose, dirt roads turned to cobbled ones, and soon enough they entered into the town proper.

    Marc paid for a room at an nearby inn and hired a stableman to handle the horses, then told Mei to amuse herself and wandered off. With the princess left in her care, she decided the safest thing to do would be to return the room at the inn.

    Roughly an hour later, he returned.

    "What have you been doing?"

    "Me?" Marc asked, pointing to himself. "I''ve been gathering Intel."

    He walked over to a chair and sat down. "Looks like a standard political feud. There are two clans vying for power and they''re causing a ruckus. The good part is that neither side is trying to subvert Imperial power. That makes it easy for us."

    "What do you plan on doing about it?"

    He sighed. "We''ll have to wait. It''ll probably be a few weeks before I can act."

    "Really? Well, I don''t understand."

    "Indeed you do not."

    "What is that supposed to mean!?"

    "In any case," he continued, ignoring her, "we have nothing to do until then. Why don''t we have some fun?"

    "Fun?" Mei asked skeptically.

    "Fun. We managed to get here during a full moon, and the people here look like they''re having a festival."

    "Oh, yeah, the Moon Festival," Mei remembered. "I''d forgotten with everything that happened recently."

    "Moon festival!?" the princess exclaimed. "I''ve never gotten to go."

    Marc nodded. "No doubt. Everyone would either be scared witless of offending you or try to kidnap you. Well, don''t worry, right now you''re just an ordinary, not scary girl that most people won''t try to kidnap."

    He stood up. "Well, let''s go. There''s no point in waiting, right?"

 Gauging Interests

    How much interest is there in continuing this? I won''t promise anything, but if there is enough demand, I can scrounge something out.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    I''ll read the replies to the thread, so if have a question for me for whatever reason, feel free to ask it.