《The Book of Heresy》


 (00) Prologue

    With great sadness I write on the peculiar events that occurred 20 years ago. Only now that the importance of this series of events has started to outweigh the tragedy, have I decided to document the story ending in the disaster we can now observe on the western isles. I do not fear Arthfael, since he can''t offer me a greater punishment than he already has. However, before I take it upon myself to guide you through the coincidences and plots of that time, I will introduce myself. I am Lycon, the cursed god. I was once one of the greatest strategists on Ataria, until, at the end of my life, Arthfael, master all gods, bestowed upon me eternal life, damning me to watch mortals live their lives for all eternity, for he made me god of observation. For 2000 years I sat in boredom, until 20 years ago. The first event to ever catch my interest occurred.


    Our story begins in the beautiful city of Oliron. Oliron is a quiet and rich city, where most people are in the mining industry, for Oliron is built a an enormous quartz deposit. Here we focus on a young council member new to the council of Oliron, who is about to change the world as we knew it.


    While the sun has just risen above the horizon, Archil, a young wealthy man adopted into a rich family and now council member of Oliron, wakes up, after being awoken by his servant, a boy named Gilbert. Archil is a slender man of the age of 20. He has black hair, blue eyes and is taller than most people. People who know him have always describedhim as being an energetic man, a man of action. If you ask a council member on the otherhand, he would tell you that Archil has a way with words that not many people possess. This is also the reason such a young man could ever be part of the council.


    Gilbert on the other hand is a very silent person, who is always worried something he does is wrong. This would make for a very useless servant without a job if it was not for Archil having a sweet spot for those in need. Other than being shy he is not as bad of a servant as he might seem. He is a good cook, can wash clothes and dishes and he somehow has the ability to always know the time. He has brown hair and eyes and is rather short. Most of all his loyalty to Archil is what defines him best though. He would follow Archil anywhere. Archil is also the only person Gilbert really speaks to.


    "Today is the meeting, sir." Gilbert says.


    "Yes, Gilbert." Archil mumbles sleepily. "Today the council discusses the amount of quartz each of the ruling families is allowed to mine."


    "A messenger just arrived, sir." Gilbert says. "He said that the other council members have already arrived ahead of you."


    "What?" Archil says, jumping out of bed and getting dressed. "No time to waste, Gilbert!"


    "I have a meal ready for you downstairs, sir." Gilbert says.


    "Never mind that now, Gilbert." Archil says. "Time is of the essence!"


    Archil and Gilbert soon leave the Jardine estate and move towards the council building in the centre of town.


    Four families rule over Oliron. The four families are: Jardine, the family Archil belongs to; Virgo, the family that is by far the richest; Allard, the family that was given to most workers last year; and Layton, the poorest of the four families.


    Each family has a part of the city; Jardine has the southern part, Virgo has the northern part, Layton the eastern part and Allard the western part. The centre of the city belongs to the council and is used to support the city''s expenses. Some miners believe that the council mines gems there, however there is no proof of this being true.


    "Why are you so interested in this years debate, sir?" Gilbert asks.


    "It''s the Laytons, Gilbert." Archil explains. "For four years they have been getting the lowest amount of workers. This has never happened before. If this years vote doesn''t turn out in their favour, the chance would be high that the amount of noble families is decreased next year. For some reason Virgo got the most workers in the previous three years until Allard finally got the council''s favour last year. I am going to try and help the Laytons, the best I can today. A royal family cannot be allowed to go bankrupt."


    While walking through the town Gilbert and Archil are greeted by the citizens shopping in the market. Archil is a well know man, since he visits the marketplace often to see how the townsfolk are doing. It is a five minute walk to the council hall, so Archil decides to walk slowly and greet the townsfolk back.


    After ten minutes they arrive in the council hall. Five out of nine council members are already present. With Archil there are now six.


    "Take your seat Archil," Maxwell, leader of the council, says.


    "Would you please wait outside Gilbert," Archil orders. "I will fetch you when we are done here,".


    "See you at the end of the meeting, sir," Gilbert says uncomfortably as he leaves the room.


    The council hall is a large, tall, round tower, with nine throne-like seats centred around an altar. Opposite to the door is the biggest seat, where Maxwell is seated. To his left and right the smaller seats are located. Archil has a seat closest to the door, meaning he is one of the less important or newer council member.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It took another ten minutes, before the other three council members were assembled.


    When they finally showed up the meeting could begin.


    "Welcome fellow council members!" Maxwell begins. "On this day we discuss what our island needs from us. We will decide what family becomes richer, what family becomes poorer and what in our city needs our attention. First, let us discuss the territories so we may conclude our budget for the year."


    "Layton must be saved!" yelled Layton''s representative. "I beg of you, give us a reasonable amount of manpower to work our mines. We have been left out for so long, we are almost bankrupt. We ask all of you to please consider our fate if we were to fall. A royal family cannot be allowed to go down like this!"


    "I agree with Layton!" Archil begins. A royal family, especially one as good as them cannot be allowed to fall. We all have to consider the effects it would have if one of our main trading figures were to disappear. It would leave hundreds out on the streets with not even the mines to work in!"


    "Should we not distribute our workers equally so none of us suffer a loss." says Allard''s representative. "It is the best way to satisfy all of us."


    "No, we need to see what family needs more support for their local public facilities." Maxwell interrupts. "If we give everyone the same amount of workers some of us would have less profit than others. Virgo for example has by far the most of the facilities, Layton the least. This is why Virgo would need more workers than Layton to sustain them."


    "This still does not justify the way Layton has been treated these last few years!" Archil objects. "Giving any family less than a tenth of our workforce is outrageous! I say that to make up for this ''oversight'' we should let Layton have more workers than usual for a year to boost their economy! We cannot afford to lose one of our families."


    "Then what should we do with the cities defences." The military representative suggests. "Should we demolish it altogether? We need more resources to build up our strength. To achieve this we must give Allard a bigger working force, since they are the one supporting us."


    "We should not forget the council''s workers." Says the representative for the council building. "If our resources are to low we won''t be able to assist economically when a family needs support in a public matter. I suggest the majority of our workers goes to Virgo and the main council building''s mines."


    "Virgo has no need for these workers!" Says the Jardine representative. "Let them sit on the piles of gold for a while. Jardine has barely turned a profit over the last ten years. Isn''t it our turn to get a larger group of workers for a change? Let Virgo feel how it is to lose money due to the council deciding so. It is also necessary, as has been pointed out so clearly by all of you, the Layton is in serious need of workers. If you will not send the workers to Jardine, then please help Layton. Now if I look around I see that most of us have decided on their votes. I suggest we collect them Maxwell."


    "Very well." Says an annoyed Maxwell. "But remember, you will tell no one what you voted!"


    "The votes have been cast and counted." Maxwell declared. "I will now announce the workforce lend to all present representatives. Allard: a thousand men shall work for you. Jardine: seven hundred and fifty men shall stand by you. Council grounds: eleven hundred men serve you. Layton: five hundred men stand by your side. Virgo: sixteen hundred and fifty men are yours to command. Together they are our mining force of five thousand men.


    Good luck to all families. I hope I see you all next meeting."


    Having said this he left the room through a backdoor. To Archil''s right the Layton representative dropped down with his head between his hands mumbling to himself.


    "It is all over, our family is finished..."


    Archil was filled with anger himself. He got up and rushed to the backdoor Maxwell left through, however he was stopped. However Layton stopped him.


    "Let go, Steven." Archil said.


    "Thank you for trying to help, but don''t trow your life away on something like this." Steven replied. "I am Steven Layton no more and that is all there is to it. You have been a true friend Archil. From now I walk my own path and with some luck Layton pulls through this year."


    Both men know this is impossible, however at this moment the idea seems so real that they almost believe it. Layton is done for, no doubt about it.


    "I wish you luck on what lays ahead Steven." Archil said after a pause.


    The mood has changed in the council hall. With the loss of Layton most council members are in a grim mood. The only people who look cheerful were Virgo''s representative, the representative for the council building and Maxwell, after he reentered the room.


    "Now let us continue our meeting." Maxwell says.

 (01) Families Lost

    At the end of the meeting Archil rushes out of the council building.


    "Something wrong, sir?" Gilbert asks.


    "Layton is gone, Gilbert." Archil tells Gilbert in a hushed tone. "The welfare of Virgo is apparently more important to the others than saving one of there most honourable families. Layton was most certainly the best of us."


    "Sir, what happened in there?" Gilbert asks intrigued. "Why is Layton no more?"


    "The vote, Gilbert." Archil says to Gilbert as if it explained everything.


    "I am going to need more explanation than that sir." Gilbert states. "What happened during the vote?"


    "They decided it was best to give Layton five hundred workers." Archil answers. "They will never sustain themselves as things are going now."


    "Couldn''t Jardine provide for them sir?" Gilbert asks. "We should have enough money to sustain both families."


    "Father will never agree to that, Gilbert." Archil says frustrated. "He won''t allow our family to go down with the Laytons even if this causes them to fall. There is no way of saving the Laytons. Now lets walk, I need to check something."


    "What exactly, sir?" Gilbert asks.


    "You''ll see, Gilbert, you''ll see." Archil responds. "So, what were you up to in the last couple of hours?"


    "Nothing special, sir." Gilbert responds half walking half running to keep up with Archil. "I had a look at the market to see if something nice was being sold."


    "Did you speak to anyone?" Archil asks knowing the answer already.


    "No sir, I did not." Gilbert says looking away. "Sir, does the place we are heading to have anything to do with the meeting?"


    "Yes, there is something I must check on before I accept the decisions made by the council."


    "And were would you check this, sir? Gilbert asks.


    "At the library of course." Archil says as they arrive at the library. "The place of infinite knowledge. This is were I hope to find my answers."


    As they enter they are greeted by an old woman behind a desk.


    "Hello again, Archil." She said. "What is it you are looking for today?"


    "The Oliron history books..." Archil asks. "Do you known were they are?"


    "They should be on the second floor in bookcase number four." She responds.


    "Thank you." Archil says as he walks up the stairs to the right of the desk.


    The library wasn''t a big building, according to Oliron standards. Oliron is not a city known for its writers and so there isn''t much to fill the shelves with. There are just enough books to fill cases on two floors with 20 cases on each floor. It is mostly old propaganda though. Two more floors were build to support more books, but so far these floor have not been in use yet. The only light in the building comes from candles, which are isolated from the books and suspended on the wall. To read there are a few lit tables with comfortable chairs to sit in. The master of the Jardine family sees great importance in the books and so he has funds from the family dedicated to maintaining the library, since it lies within Jardine territory.


    The second floor was even darker than the first floor. With no one to oversee the second floor less candles are placed in order to prevent fires. The tables and chairs on the other hand are in a much better condition than the ones downstairs. These chairs and tables are especially tailored to support long hours of reading. The tables even have better lighting, even though the candles are made with a special layer around them isolating them from the books.


    "Sir, if you wanted to go to a library why didn''t you go to the northern library?" Gilbert asks. "It is more likely to have more detailed history books."


    "Because, Gilbert, the northern library belongs to the Virgos." Archil responds. And I am in no mood to do anything that even suggests I am positive towards  the Virgos. Not to mention the fact that they probably altered their history books a bit to suit them better."


    They walk to case number four and start searching for the books. After a short while they find two books belonging to the "Oliron in the ages" series.


    "These are the ones I need." Archil says reassured. "Now lets test theories. You see, this book was written by George Jardine, so it is more reliable than one written by a Virgo, since they are known leaving out facts."


    "I see, sir." Gilbert answers without understanding a word.


    As they open part two of ''Oliron in the ages'' Archil explains that there used to be a fifth family. However, like Layton now, the family went bankrupt and disappeared. It just so happens that the author of ''Oliron in the ages'' part two was alive during during this time period.


    "Now if we could find a repetition of the same circumstances as with Layton now, we could make a connection between Virgo and the council building having made some kind of agreement." Archil continues explaining. "This should be the page that describes Oliron when the fifth family is still in play. Somewhere in the pages that follow should be a description of the events that let to that point."


    "This can''t be!" Archil exclaims after reading two pages. "From one page to the next the fifth family simply vanishes. There is no way a Jardine would make no mention of this."


    "Sir doesn''t it seem like a few pages have been removed from the book." Gilbert asks carefully.


    Indeed, if you look closely enough you can observe small lines where pages are most definitely missing.


    "Someone sabotaged this book expertly." Archil says in amazement. "How did you see that, Gilbert?"


    "I did not, sir." Gilbert says amazed by his own words. "I simply guessed that if something seems missing it might have been removed."


    "Now how do we trace these pages." Archil wonders. "Jardine manor has all its books placed here for all to read. The Virgo library is unlikely to even have a Jardine book."


    "What of the other two parts sir." Gilbert asks. "Could they not contain any clues as to what was in the missing pages?"


    "No, part three is more of a philosophical text than a history book." Archil states. Part four is still being written, so that is of no use either."


    "Sir, earlier you said Virgo is known for hiding facts from others, do the other families also have these reputations?" Gilbert wonders.


    "Yes." Archil replies. Layton is known for being kind to the population, Allard is known for being honourable and Jardine in known for being clever. Apparently we are good at making and solving puzzles."


    This thought made Archil think. What if George Jardine knew his book would be altered. He would try and make his message clear by hiding it somewere only another Jardine could find it.


    Archil quickly goes back to the prologue of the book. On this page is written: While I write about the tales of this time in our own Jardine library.


    "He was here!" Archil exclaims. "When George Jardine wrote this book he was here, in this very building. That means he must have hidden the ripped out pages somewhere near us."


    "If they even exist, sir." Gilbert states. "There is no proof that he hid a message anywhere."


    "He is a Jardine, Gilbert." Archil explains. "There is no way he wrote about something as suspicious as the fall of a family without expecting it to be altered."


    Archil goes to the epilogue. "Even when something so tragic occurred, it would appear not to me to tell you the full story in this book. For those of us who must know, they can visit the less visited part of the Jardine library for more information." Archil reads out loud. "What do you think Gilbert?"


    "Isn''t this floor already the less visited part, sir." Gilbert answers. "We should look around, see what we find."


    No, this floor is still visited quite frequently." Archil thinks aloud. "Hmm, a place in this library hardly anyone every goes too... The third and fourth floor, of course! How could I not see that?"


    "Now the question is, the third floor or the fourth floor." Gilbert states.


    "The third floor is kept ready for future use." Archil says. "We expect to need it within thirty years. The fourth floor however is only dusted of from time to time. I think we should start there. We should go downstairs and ask for the key."


    The two descended the stairs and walked up to the desk of the old woman.


    "Can we have access to the fourth floor please." Archil asks kindly.


    "Officially you can''t." The old woman replies. "However since your family practically owns this library, I can''t see why not." She hands Archil the key. "Just be sure to return that to me once you''re done in that dusty, old cellar."


    "Thank you." Archil says.


    They ascend the stairs again continuing past the second floor, until their path is blocked by a sturdy looking door. Here they use the key and the door opens.


    "Sir, how does Oliron rule the fields, forests and towns located beyond the great lake surrounding the city?" Gilbert asks while they are climbing the stairs. "I never hear you talk about the council discussing matters concerning them."


    "Long ago it has been decided that the head of the council controls all areas under Oliron control as long as it is not within the city limits." Archil explains. This rule was made however before the areas around Oliron started to develop. I plan to change the rule Maxwell currently has over those people, when I get to a more permanent stage of being a council member. I will change this city Gilbert, mark my words."


    They now arrive at a second door also locked.


    "This key should also fit this door." Archil says. The key fits however the door remains motionless. "Curious, I guise this door hasn''t been used in a long time. Gilbert, help me push would you."


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Together they push on the door. Their combined strength causes it to fly open and both men fly into the room, sliding across the floor. A cloud of dust rises from the ground, dimming the already faint light.


    "I will get a candle, sir." Gilbert says from somewhere in the middle of the room.


    "Don''t!" Archil yells. "Dust burns and if a large quantity like this catches fire in this enclosed space, an explosion will occur!"


    Another cloud of dust rises as Gilbert falls back down from hearing this.


    "What do we do, sir?" Gilbert asks coughing.


    "There should be a window on the far side of the room." Archil explains. "If we open that we should be able to vent enough dust. The challenge, laid out for us now, is to find it."


    After at least ten minutes of searching, they finally find the window. By this time both men are completely covered in dust and, as the window slowly opens, they are gasping for fresh air.


    "Well done, Gilbert." Archil cheers. "Another minute of that and I would have suffocated for sure. How about we talk some more about the rural areas of Oliron. Ask me anything you want."


    "Okay, sir." Gilbert says already looking cheerful again. Gilbert loves asking questions. So much so that he might be the most curious person in Oliron. Archil is of the opinion that answering questions is the best way to educate yourself. These two traits match perfectly. "Earlier you said that you wanted to give the control of the rural areas back to the council. Is there something wrong with the way Maxwell runs things currently?"


    "Maxwell neglects the fact that those people need proper support from the city." Archil explains. "He believes that if you do not want to live in the city the gods should decide your fate out there. What Maxwell forgets in this reasoning is that all food, except for fish, comes from farms outside of the city. If the situation outside of the city limits doesn''t improve quickly people will start starving in the city. We will have an uprising on our hands that will kill thousands. Not to mention the losses we will suffer in the rural areas to the bands of Goblins; small, grey creatures with black eyes and sharp teeth, that mainly roam around at night and eat just about anything, including human flesh and our harvest. The rodents have somehow manifested themselves on our island and are now beginning to attack farmers. The situation in this city may not look it, but it is on the point of collapse. If the way the council currently does things doesn''t change people will die and not just the poor. Everyone will suffer."


    "Is it really that bad, sir?" Gilbert asks in amazement.


    "It is, Gilbert." Archil replies. "It is. Gilbert, doesn''t this room seem smaller to you?"


    "Yes, sir." Gilbert replies enthusiastically. "Does this mean we are correct, sir?"


    "It would appear so, Gilbert." Archil says, smiling. "Now let''s find this hidden room. George Jardine wrote it like it is findable, so it should not be too elaborate. It will only need to be hidden from plain sight or maybe even in plain sight."


    Archil lights a candle and starts searching.


    "What do you mean, sir?" Gilbert asks, confused.


    "He only hid these pages so they wouldn''t be lost if they were thorn from the book, like they were." Archil explains. "It is likely that whoever handled the sabotage missed one line of text hinting at their existence. They should also not be out in the open in case a random person finds it. George was a clever man, I''m sure he thought about matters, like I do now. Now in what direction is the room smaller. Considering he wrote his books in that particular space, it should have enough room to contain a desk and a shelf. Now on what side of the room would this be?"


    "The shelves to the right of the door seem to be a lot closer to the door, sir." Gilbert observes. "Should we start looking on that side?"


    "Sounds like a plan, Gilbert." Archil says, while walking over to the left wall.


    "Where are you going, sir." Gilbert asks, confused. "I thought we were going to the right wall?"


    "This is the right wall, right?" Archil asks, now also confused. "You exit the door and the go right, right?"


    "I meant to the right while facing the door, sir." Gilbert says, quietly with a look on his face as if it was his fault Archil misunderstood.


    "My bad, Gilbert." Archil says. "I should have asked you first. It isn''t your fault that I am an idiot."


    "But you are no..." Gilbert starts, already looking less guilty, but Archil stops him.


    "Just joking, Gilbert." Archil says cheerfully. "Now lets inspect that wall!"


    On close examination of the wall a thin line can be seen forming a rectangle on the wall. There is no visible switch or knob to open the door however. As both men are wondering what to do, Gilbert manages to somehow trip, while standing still, and so he falls hitting the wall. A cloud of dust in blown off the wall.


    "You alright there, Gilbert." Archil says, clearly amused. Then he suddenly freezes in excitement and steps forward towards Gilbert. Gilbert, now even more confused almost panics as his master draws closer.


    "Did I break something?" Gilbert asks in a shrill tone.


    "Well done, Gilbert!" Archil exclaims, pointing at the wall next to Gilbert. Right there is another small outline of a smaller rectangle. It would have been completely obscured by the dust if not for Gilbert cleaning it off.


    Archil presses the button and the door makes a lot of metallic noises without opening. Archil the continues to the door and gives it a little push. The door opens followed by a gust of warm, rotten air filled with a thick cloud of dust. Both men, upon spotting the cloud of dust, step towards the window automatically.


    "Is that air poisonous, sir." Gilbert asks.


    "I don''t know, Gilbert." Archil responds. "It certainly smells that way."


    It took a few minutes before both men even dared approach the hidden room in fear of the air being poisonous. After Gilbert decides he dares approach and Archil, after seeing Gilbert survive entering, carefully follows him, both men see a small, dark room filled with scrolls, blank books and quills. Weirdly enough there is no ink left in the room. Even the empty ink pots are missing.


    Both men are amazed by the amount of paper that is gathered in this one room and imaging how hard it will be to find the two pages they are looking for.


    "It is a good sign, Gilbert." Archil says cheerfully. "The dust cloud gathered in this room tells us no one has been here in a long time. The pages are likely to still be here."


    "They might be here, sir." Gilbert says with a pained smile on his face. "But how are we ever going to find them in between these stacks of paper?"


    "Lucky enough for us George was a very organised person, so the pages won''t be in some random place. Also, shortly after writing. ''Oliron in the ages'' volume two, George was murdered. Proof was never found of who ordered the assassination and for some reason the murderer was almost instantly executed."


    "Is that how our rules really work, sir?" Gilbert asks shaken by the idea of a man being executed without trial.


    "Well it is a standard rule that anyone committing murder in Oliron is executed." Archil responds. "This is, because the area we live is a very urban place and law enforcement is extremely hard. It is uncommon though for someone to be executed so suddenly though."


    Archil has a good look across the desk of George Jardine.


    "Look at this, Gilbert." Archil says in wonder. "George was apparently working on "Oliron in the ages" volume three. His will said that another Jardine should finish it, but since no one knew of this place it was rewritten entirely. It is strange though, how when searching for this series I can only ever find volume two and three. Perhaps it is, because one and four are not written by Jardines. Ah, there they are. The missing pages right on his desk. He must have died before he was able to put them somewhere proper."


    Archil snatches the pages and quickly skips through their content.


    "Interesting." Archil says. "George explains the fall of the fifth family like this; even though only Maxwell and Virgo seem to want a family to be destroyed the vote cast the fifth out mercilessly. The council represents the will of the gods Maxwell says. We are all influenced by one of them and so we cast their vote, not our own. I don''t believe him. I am sure that on my vote I favoured the fifth. Perhaps the other families do want to cast out the fifth, or maybe Maxwell is just fixing the vote. Either way there is nothing I can do about it now. The vote is cast and so ends the fifth."


    "That sounds similar to what is happening now!" Gilbert exclaims.


    "What is the weirdest about this, is that Maxwell is there even though this occurred well over sixty years ago." Archil says. George speaks of him as if he is the head of the council. Now I am rather sure our Maxwell is not over fifty. They can''t be the same person. It is impossible however that the head of the council then and the head of the council now have the same first name."


    "Could he in any way be the same person, sir?" Gilbert asks.


    "No, Gilbert." Archil replies. "If he was he would be too old to be council member right now. The only way for him to be the same person is if he was somehow immortal, which is impossible for humans. Now lets head home and get some sleeps. We will report this information to my father tomorrow and then we will see what actions we will take."


    "Sounds good, sir." Gilbert says relieved to finally be able to leave the dusty library.

 (02) One Fake in Name

    That night Archil has a dream, which is best described as a vision of gods. A message to guide him through these troublesome times. A vision shown to him by the god who is most like a human.


    Archil steps into a completely white room. The only other things in this room are three men, who are loudly discussing something. They don''t appear to notice Archil enter.


    "How dare you even question my authority here?!" A big, powerful looking man shouts. "This is my home and my rules apply here."


    "If it were up to you, this entire planet would be your home, where your rules apply!" A shorter, frailer looking figure shouts back. He is a handsome, young man completely clad in a dark, black robe that seems to live a life of its own. It coils around him like a snake. "You have every human on this wretched world dance on the palm of your hand and still you act as if you could possibly get more! Your reign brings nothing but misery, Arthfael!"


    "And what would you have then!" Arthfael replies furiously. "What would you do, if you were capable of controlling all of mankind! You are the weakest of us all, the weakest of all the gods! Even Lycon, a human made into a god, could defeat you! You know what the humans call you down there! The fake god! They don''t even acknowledge you!"


    "The fake god." The man says smiling. "Catchy isn''t it."


    This enrages Arthfael even more. He charges at the man slamming into him. The man on the other hand does not even get hit by the attack Arthfael tried to hit him with. He simply seems to not be there and like smoke he flows around Arthfael.


    "No need for that." The man says still smiling. "I will bring my pieces into play soon enough and then we shall see who the best puppeteer is."


    "You are leaving?" A third man yells.


    "Of course I am leaving, Maxwell." The man says waving. "I have by far outstayed my welcome here."


    With that the man walks away laughing and the dream fades making place for an empty dark room. Here the man appears in front of Archil and speaks to him.


    "Did you see that brute of a god." He says. "He attacks a man during a simple discussion. He is violent and would do anything to keep his power, even if that power extends no further than the small realms of man. Yet he is the god that rules your world and mine. If you need my help I will grant it to you, now go my pawn. Let Arthfael''s world crumble around him!"


    Archil opens his eyes only to see the figure of Gilbert loomed over him.


    "What is wrong, Gilbert?" Archil asks surprised.


    "There is something you must see, sir." Gilbert says after recovering from his masters sudden awakening.


    "Can this wait, Gilbert." Archil says. "I just had the weirdest of dreams."


    "I fear, sir, that this can''t wait until morning." Gilbert says with a worried look on his face.


    "Until morning!" Archil asks surprised. "Is it not morning yet?"


    "No, sir." Gilbert says. "You need to see something, now!"


    Only now Archil notices that in the dim lighting Gilbert''s face look incredibly worried. This breaks of any further discussion the two might have had and Archil rises from his bed.


    "Where do you need me?" Archil asks while putting on some simple clothes.


    "The master bedroom, sir." Gilbert says.


    "The master bedroom!" Archil exclaims. "Father is sleeping in there. I can''t just barge in in the dead of the night and tell him a servant send me!"


    "But he is more than just sleeping, sir." Gilbert responds.


    This statement makes Archil realise what is truly going on. He wastes no more time on questions as he rushes to his father''s quarters. What he sees there are the remains of his father, his innards splashed over the wall and his skin turned inside out. A bowelless, skinless skeleton lies in the middle of the room. On a pike next to the skeleton stands Master Jardine''s battered head. Archil falls to his knees at the sight of this truly horribly scene of death. After a few second he throws up.


    "Why did they do this to you, father?" Archil asks. "Why did they paint the walls with your blood and leave your head on a pike in the middle of the room? Is it because of what Gilbert and I found at the library? Is it because I spoke out to Maxwell during the meeting yesterday? Or am I not at all to blame for your misfortune? Was it you who brought this upon yourself?"


    "Gods play games with lives, like players with pawns." The voice of the fake god says in Archil''s mind. "They do not care if there pawns live or die, they are just a means to an end. If one pawn learns too much, acts too greatly, thinks too dangerously, then it is disposed of. In the end all links back to the gods and all gods link back to Arthfael."


    This pulls Archil out of his trance.


    "Who found him like this?" Archil asks.


    It takes Gilbert a moment, before he realises, Archil is speaking to him.


    "A maid, sir." Gilbert replies.


    "How is she?" Archil asks.


    "I fear her mind fully collapsed, sir." Gilbert respond with pity echoing in his voice. "No one should be allowed to behold such a sight without a prior warning. The only reason I found him was because I ran into the maid as she exited the room in panic. That is why I looked."


    "Are you alright, Gilbert?" Archil asks concerned.


    "My reaction was similar to your, sir." Gilbert says calmly. "I panicked first, before regaining my senses and calling you."


    "What could have caused such an utter destruction of a body though?" Archil wonders.


    As he reexamines the room he notices, the pike with his father''s head, the walls splattered with blood and guts and a skin, turned inside out placed next to a bloody skeleton of Archil''s father. What Archil notices now is a message written in blood on the back wall. "Death comes to he who knows."


    "That must be the assassin''s trademark." Archil concludes. "He is a real professional. He must be since he did all this while barely making any noise. We should let someone know."


    The next morning a few soldiers are guarding the door to Master Jardine''s bedroom.


    "What do you mean the maid has been arrested?" Archil yells at the captain investigating the murder. "The woman is an emotional wreck."


    "She was the first one to have seen Master Jardine in his current state." The captain responds. "She entered his quarters for no apparent reason, either assassinate him, or for some other obscure purpose. Now I suggest you back off, Jardine. You yourself are also suspect in this case. The only reason you are not incarcerated is, because you are a Jardine. You are lucky."


    "I would kill my own father, you say?" Archil asks angrily. "Gilbert, we are leaving."


    "Where are we going, sir?" Gilbert asks as they leave the Jardine estate.


    "Do you believe in gods, Gilbert?" Archil asks.


    "I believe gods exist, if that is what you mean." Gilbert responds. "I believe they aren''t too active though. So do you think she killed Master Jardine?"


    "No, Gilbert." Archil responds. "It takes more skill to kill a man and tear him like that, than a simple maid has. That added to the emotional stress she is experiencing, concludes that she is not trained as an assassin or at least doesn''t have any experience killing. It takes more to kill my father than that."


    "Why are we going to this part of town, sir?" Gilbert asks as he has a look around.


    "There is someone I would like to speak to here." Archil says.


    They arrive at a small temple located in the Layton district.


    "This might be the only important structure in this entire area." Archil says. "I really wish that was a lie, but it isn''t."


    As they enter the building Gilbert can''t help but notice how small everything is. This temple seems to have been almost abandoned. The only person in the building is an old, short woman carrying a long staff twice her length. She turns around slowly and look up at Archil.


    "You are the first visitors I have seen in days!" She says in a soft, but clear voice. "How can I help you gentlemen? Before I help you though, I must ask you a small donation for the good of the temple."


    Archil immediately deposits some quartz pieces into the donation box as if he was expecting her to make this request.


    "I have a few questions for you, medium." Archil says almost rudely. "What do the gods want with us according to you?"


    "The gods want whatever they desire." The medium answers like it answers everything.


    "And what does that mean?" Archil says. He seems to have no patience with the woman.


    "Exactly what you wanted to know." The medium says. "Gods, much like humans, get bored. We are just their puppets."


    "What do you know of the fake god?" Archil continues.


    "Fake god?" The medium asks. Her tone changes though. She seems to be less confident with the conversation.


    "Stop wasting my time, witch!" Archil says. "What do you know of the god called a fake!"


    "Axsel..." The medium mumbles. Having said this her head arches backwards, her head falls open and her eyes start to glow. A thin mist fills the building reducing visibility.


    "Axsel is my name, yes." The medium says in a deep voice. "A name I never got from my parents. I must thank you humans for showing me the way of pity. It is thanks to you all I see the world as I do. Now what is it you want Archil? You requested to know of me."


    "So you are the fake god?" Archil asks.


    "Yes, I am the fake god!" Axsel says animating the mediums body to bow. "Now why did you call for me?"


    "Are you the cause of my father death." Archil asks.


    "The dead father..." Axsel answers. "I think you would be happy to know that your father himself set the plot for his demise in motion. You nor I have any guilt in the matter."


    "You say it like it should make me feel better!" Archil says. "Why did he die? What did he do or learn that he should not have? Who killed him?"


    "Slow down, boy!" Axsel says making the woman''s deep voice crackle. "I only have one set of borrowed vocal cords you know. Before I answer your questions I shall answer that one important question you should have started with; what do I want from you? The answer to that is simple. I want you go live your life and by doing so destroy Arthfael''s reign. As for why your father met his fate and the one who led him there. To be honest, I can''t say much on this matter. This is a scheme set especially made to stop me and my plots. All I can say is that ''those who make people forget'' live in the big temple in this very city."


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Those who make people forget?" Archil asks confused.


    "You''ll get there, Archil." Axsel says. "Also, a small rule we gods have, only second generation gods can communicate directly with humans like this. First generation gods can only influence the mind of humans who pray to them. See you around, Archil. Good luck fixing our worlds."


    The medium collapses onto the floor. Gilbert move to help her.


    "Don''t bother, Gilbert." Archil says. "Mediums are cursed from birth. My guise is that it has something to do with the first and second generation story. Anyway, try and avoid to touch her as much as possible. Bad things happen if you don''t."


    Archil, followed by Gilbert, walks towards, leaving the unconscious woman in the small temple.


    "First and second generation, sir?" Gilbert asks.


    "The gods that created or first inhabited this world must not have been the last." Archil says. "The fake god mentioned he was raised by humans. I guise since second generation gods can exist on our side of the world Arthfael must have thought that by throwing the newly spawned Axsel down here, he would have been rid of a great burden. Let us go and find my father''s killer now."


    "Those who make people forget." Gilbert says. "This god guardian of ours sure loves his riddles, doesn''t he? It is almost as cryptic as the message left in Master Jardine''s room. What did it say again?"


    "Something along the lines of ''those who know die right''?" Archil says. "Forgetting would then translate to killing. A big temple can almost only be the Virgo temple. Of course it has to be. I suppose we should look for some shady characters there. It would be great to see my father be avenged."


    "Sir, should we really chase after those who tore Master Jardine apart in such a horrific way?" Gilbert asks. "Can we truly bet our lives on something so trifle as revenge?"


    "We can not allow this injustice to go unpunished." Archil responds. "Do you truly thing the fake god would give us even a hint as to where my father''s killer is, while he seems to need me alive. We will get through this, Gilbert, and after we capture him we will now why my father met his fate."


    "So both our lives depend on your skill with the sword, sir?" Gilbert says.


    "Yes, Gilbert." Archil says. "My swordsmanship will save us, or damn us. We best head to the Virgo temple now. It is almost noon and the temple is quite the walk away.


    A few hours later Archil and Gilbert arrive at the Virgo temple.


    "Have you ever wondered why Master Jardine has the name Master?" Gilbert asks.


    "I am not sure why my grandparents called him that." Archil responds. "According to the medium we just spoke with he was destined to do great things. That could have been a reason. Whatever he was up to must have had some connection to those great things."


    As they walk to the front door they can''t help but notice the eery feeling created by the dark looking temple and the desolate streets. Most streets in Oliron are extremely crowded and yet there appears to be no one here. Archil knocks on the door. The sound echoes through the street and a dog bark in the distance. With a loud creaking noise the door slowly opens. Stood in the now opened door is a short man clad in dark robes. His wrinkles clearly showing on the old hand resting in the door.


    "Greetings medium." Archil says carefully. "We have business inside this temple. Would you allow us in?"


    "No one will enter the shrine today." The man says in a slow, dreamy voice. "Please leave."


    "Medium, as far as I recall you don''t own this temple." Archil says. "The city does."


    "That is why I can''t let you enter." The medium says. "The city, or rather Virgo, stated I should not let any pass on this day. Now leave before I get my master."


    "Follow me, Gilbert." Archil says.


    "Goodbye, gentlemen." The medium says closing the door.


    "There is an alley next to the building." Archil says. "We can enter through there. I will go in. You stay here and wait for me."


    They walk into the alley and Gilbert boosts Archil up to the window on the side of the temple. Archil enters into a small room which appears to be a candle storage room. Most people would try to avoid breaking into temples, because of the curse that rests on any medium inhabiting the building.


    If Archil were to be caught he would be lucky to exit in one piece. He slowly opens the door to the hallway, carefully avoiding anything that would make a sound. He is in luck, because even though this temple is big the man is the only medium to inhabit it. Mediums don''t take well to others, since they are cursed. Archil slowly proceeds down the hall looking around constantly.


    The temple, just like the streets out front, seems completely deserted. The only sound seems to be a humming noise coming from downstairs. This is most likely the medium spending time in the agony of his curse. Compulsory humming is the curse he seems to have.


    All mediums have their own aspects in this curse. The part where they destroy other humans just by being near them for a while is an universal trait, since all mediums seem to have that same problem. The purpose of this is to minimize contact with humans so the second generation gods can''t communicate as often. The individual curse on the other hand is their punishment for being born a medium.


    A very unfair fate these otherwise normal people share. The only difference is that their souls or minds have a stronger affinity with the realm of gods. In their sleep some of them even cross this line and see what lies beyond the veil. This could otherwise only happen when a god summons their mind to his side. Second generation gods can abuse this affinity in order to on their turn cross the line and speak through the medium''s body. Arthfael hates the fact that those of the second generation can do something he can''t. That is why he placed the curse, so all those who venture near or over the line between realms shall be cursed.


    As Archil continues walking towards the sound, voices can be heard. Two men seem to be arguing about something. Archil slowly and stealthily approaches the room the men seem to be in. He crouches in front of the door, barely making a noise. Maxwell''s voice can be heard.


    "You gave me your body out of your own volition. Now you tell me, you are unhappy about what occurred, while I was using it."


    "You said, you would lift this wretched humming curse if I worked with you." The medium says. "Now I still have the curse and a stained conscience."


    "I told you, I would do everything in my power to rid you of it." Maxwell responds. "It just so happens, that it is not in my power to do anything about this issue of yours."


    "Using my curse to destroy that man." The medium says. "This humming curse of mine causes the sound of my humming to build in those I touch. It tears them up completely. It starts with them coughing blood and soon their organs start to rip and fall apart. It is a fate I would not wish anyone to suffer. It is a slow and painful death. Did you not see the devastation it caused to that poor man? I never knew a Jardine could be that panicked in his final moments..."


    "I am leaving now, I have other matters to attend to." Maxwell says. "I thank you for your assistance."


    The only noise left now was a low consistent humming. Knowing that in the mediums regret he will not hurt anyone, Archil enters the room, prepared to attack Maxwell if the need should arise. The room however is empty, but for the man huddled on the floor. He is an emotional wreck. Apparently he did not take well to the gruesome sight of the corpse belonging to Master Jardine. Maxwell seems to have simply vanished into thin air.


    "So, was it you who killed my father?" Archil asks.


    The medium slowly looks up, confused.


    "The man from the front door." He says wearily. "You would dare break into a temple? Oh well, my life is bad enough as it is. The curse is slowly taking everything from me. If this humming persists I fear I will soon fall to madness."


    "I asked you a question medium." Archil says, already angry. "Did you kill my father?"


    "No need to get angry, boy." The medium replies. "I heard you the first time. Yes, in a way I did cause the demise of that man, your father. I fear that my mind is not prepared for me to kill. By the fake god, may I never die after falling to madness."


    "How do you mean, in a way?" Archil asks. "I thought you were listening at the door! I loaned my body to Maxwell, to serve as his vessel to do his dirty work. He promised to rid my of the humming I am forced to endure. Instead all he did was give me another reason to go mad."


    "So it was Maxwell." Archil says. "Why would he need your body?"


    "Pay attention, boy." The medium says. "My curse allows an especially gruesome death. Did you, by any chance, have a close look at the head of your father?"


    "No, why?" Archil says.


    "Just a random idea I had." The medium says. "It is of no matter now."


    The medium looks up and he starts pointing at the door wanting Archil to leave. Something halts his movement however.


    "Your eyes, boy. Have you by any chance met the fake god? I can see it in your eyes. You have seen him, haven''t you?"


    Hope shines through the man''s eyes.


    "I have." Archil says. "Do you know what he wants?"


    "He should have told you that. This is most likely the best way to beat Maxwell and make him pay for the life he cost me. A way for you to get revenge. Are you with me, boy?"


    "If it is to avenge my fallen father I would gladly follow you. The fake god seems to be the solution to everything, is he not?"


    "The fake god is the only way to beat a god at this ''game'' they made." The medium says. "Only by choosing another player to follow can a pawn win his own struggles. For us this player is the fake god. He shall guide us to freedom or to doom."


    "Then we have a deal, medium." Archil says. "Pardon me for not shaking your hand, but I would rather not risk my organs tearing. My name is Archil Jardine. The other man outside is called Gilbert.


    "My name is Lyston, descendant of the great strategist Lycon, who is now trapped in the other side of the line." The medium replies. "I was not born a medium, but when Arthfael discovered my heritage, he dragged my soul across and damned me to this life of solitude, much like my ancestor. Arthfael does not particularly like Lycon. The only reason Lycon is a god, is because he beat Arthfael at this game of chess we play."

 (03) Retribution

    Archil and Lyston exit through the front door of the temple and walk into the alley, where Gilbert was waiting.


    "Sir, why is the medium of the temple with you?" Gilbert asks carefully. "Did he find you?"


    "This is Lyston, Gilbert." Archil says. "He will accompany us on our trip to go and kill Maxwell."


    "What?" Gilbert says. "Why are we killing Maxwell all of a sudden? Was the murderer not here in this very temple?"


    Archil and Lyston quickly give Gilbert a summary of the events that took place in the temple.


    "So you killed Master Jardine, Lyston?" Gilbert asks in a confused tone.


    "I did play a big part in his death, but I did not kill him." Lyston says. "The killing was done by Maxwell."


    "I see..." Gilbert says, still utterly mystified. "So what do we do now?"


    "We kill Maxwell." Lyston says. "He should not be allowed to remain in this world."


    "So now we are going to kill our fellow humans?" Gilbert asks. "Are you truly going that far for revenge, Archil?"


    "Fellow humans?" Lyston asks. "My dear boy, you have it all wrong. Maxwell is as much a human as that rock there. He is a god of the second generation."


    "But gods can''t appear physically in our realm, right?" Gilbert asks.


    "True." Lyston says. "The form he generally shows is that of Lycon, my ancestor. He uses the body that once belonged to my ancestor to manipulate your world freely."


    "How do you know all this?" Archil asks.


    "The fake god likes to talk to me." Lyston says. "No one ever comes near mediums so he thought it fair play. Even though I am not a medium gods seem to be able to make themselves appear in front of me... I can generally not be possessed by a god, unless I let them. A rule that applies to any man. Truth be told, I think Arthfael is the only god strong enough to separate a human''s soul from his body leaving an empty shell."


    "So all of our actions right now are judged on information provided by the fake god? Archil asks. "Oh, how splendid that is."


    "So who is the fake god again?" Gilbert asks, struggling to keep up with the conversation.


    "The god taking possession of the woman at the last shrine, Gilbert." Archil answers. "He is most likely our only change to save our world from the rule of Arthfael."


    "There are also other prime generation gods out there to be honest, but they don''t interfere to much with Arthfael''s chess board." Lyston says. "Each of them has more second generation gods with them."


    "Could you explain to us what those are exactly, Lyston?" Archil asks. "Tell us about second generation gods, as we walk away from the temple, to some place more central."


    "That is quite the tale, my friend." Lyston says. "This world began, according to the fake god, as two rifts drifting along side each other. The friction between these two plains sparked energy creating souls. These souls passed on to one of the two rifts. As more energy was made and more souls created, the second uninhabited rift started to consume energy. This reaction created matter causing land and sea to form. Before long this land began forming life. The fake god calls them micro-organisms whatever they may be. These grew into larger animals. The souls in the first rift saw these changes and crossed over to inhabit this new world. Most of them were lost in the friction between the rifts, however some made it across. These were the prime generation gods. As the world kept changing the energy build up in between the rifts became to great. It created an energy storm casting those in the rift full of life back into the empty rift. The souls still trapped in the empty rift were destroyed. The rest of the energy was transferred into a humanlike creature that can no longer be found today. This created the first humans, born into a world build by the gods. The gods, now trapped in there new home decided to watch these humans and guide them to a ''better'' future. This was boring however, so the gods started pitting humans against each other. This conflict of chess the gods started to play, spawned new races in this realm. Second generation gods came into being when either Arthfael separates a human from his body, excluding Lycon, since he is trapped or when enough energy builds up between the rifts again to spawn a new god, like the fake god. The only other thing that uses energy from between the rifts is birth. New humans need as soul made from the stuff."


    "Curious." Archil says. "So how does one kill a god?"


    "One destroys its vessel." Lyston answers. "That way they lose the authority it had. The god however, cannot be killed. The are energy from beyond the line. Our souls simply dissipate after death. Gods on the other hand are merely reaching into this realm."


    "So once we destroy Lycon''s body, Maxwell should lose his power in this world, right?" Gilbert asks.


    "According to the fake god, yes." Lyston says. "There is one problem though. I have no idea where to find Maxwell, nor where his vessel might be."


    "He never seems to leave the council hall." Archil says. "Our best chance is to look there."


    "So, as a god, what can Maxwell do?" Gilbert asks.


    "Manipulate human souls from beyond the line." Lyston says. "The only true power possessed by gods is immortality. As I said earlier, they made the first steps as humans on this side of the line and were then pulled right back to where they belong. Magic does exist, but the gods have no such power."


    "Then what is your curse?" Archil asks.


    "Arthfael has made it so that any human soul approaching the line will be blasted with excess rift energy. This will then be brought back to the human''s body and cause it to emit this energy. It is why I cause someone''s body to vibrate to shreds. The humming you here is not me but the energy emitting from my body. It is harmless, unless you were to touch me."


    "So that is why you are not afraid of hurting us?" Gilbert asks.


    "No, boy." Lyston says, laughing. "Right now all I care about is hurting that accursed Maxwell."


    "Oh..." Gilbert says.


    "Are you not too old for this?" Archil asks.


    "Old?" Lyston says, surprised. "My dear Archil, I should be merely a few years older than you. I only look old, because my body is constantly emitting rift energy. It truly wears a man down. Most medium have this very same problem. Because of the very nature of our curse we can however exist together. Most of us, myself included, prefer to live in temples and shrine in solitude. Why is it you despise mediums as much ad you do, Archil?"


    "My parents were killed by a medium they tried to save from a burning shrine. They died and the medium survived. Shortly after I was adopted by Master Jardine. He has always been good to me, but I just cannot see mediums as humans anymore. They destroy life by just touching it. It is getting better now, since I know the cause of their misfortune. This understanding is most likely the reason, I don''t hate you Lyston. The regret and sadness I heard you express in the shrine was enough to make me see the true evil."


    "I am sorry for your loss, Archil." Lyston says. "I hope your life becomes better after we free our city from Maxwell."


    "Archil, why are we still talking about these matters while walking through the crowd?" Gilbert asks. "Would it not be wiser to discuss this in private?"


    "Nonsense, Gilbert." Archil says. "These people mind us as much as we mind them. They won''t hear us talk of murder and plot, nor will they think anything of it."


    "We are approaching the city centre." Lyston says.


    "This way is a shortcut." Archil says, turning right into a small alley.


    After a few more minutes of walking they arrive at the council hall. Archil walks towards the door and pushes it open. The three men enter. The room was completely empty, the chairs are encased in darkness.


    "So this is what the building looks like when it is not used." Archil says. "After he told us the results of the vote during the meeting yesterday he retreated to a room in the back. That is where we will probably find Maxwell, if he even is here at all."


    "What are we waiting for!" Lyston says as he walks to the door. "Maxwell''s vessel is at our mercy now."


    "Wait!" Archil yells.


    Lyston is however not stopping. He continues walking towards the door, completely absorbed in his hate for Maxwell. Neither Gilbert, nor Archil can stop this man from stepping through that door now. Lyston crashes into the door and falls backwards, completely stopped by it. He lies on the ground for a second, cursing his stupidity.


    "Of course the door is locked!" He yells. "Maxwell is not confident enough to leave his vessel unprotected, while he is not inhabiting it."


    "Do you need some help with that predicament of yours, Lyston?" Archil asks, grinning. "Gilbert is an expert at lock picking. He kept swearing it would be useful someday. Before he helps you however, I want you to answer one question. Are you sure you want to do this to Maxwell?"


    "Just open the door." Lyston says. "I could care less about second thoughts right now. I want to make Maxwell suffer, just like I suffer."


    "Gilbert, please open the door for us." Archil orders.


    "Yes, sir." Gilbert replies. In his eyes a glint of happiness can be seen as his lock picking skills finally come of use. After a few moments a sharp ''click'' can be heard and the door flies open. "It is done, sir."


    The door hasn''t opened yet or Lyston is already on his way to finish what he came here for. He is completely prepared to do anything to hurt Maxwell in any and every way. In the dim light of the room a figure can be seen. It is sitting in a chair and is so limp it might as well be dead. Lyston charges at the figure and crashes into it, toppling over the chair causing both Maxwell''s vessel as himself to slam into the floor. Archil can hardly see what is going on in the absolute darkness. Suddenly a dim blue light starts to emit from Maxwell''s vessel and Lyston is thrown into Archil. Both men tumble through the still opened door and hit Gilbert, who stops their movement.


    "What was that?" Archil asks, as he climbs back to his feet.


    "Interriftal energy." Lyston says. "That body has been used by Maxwell so much that it has build up enough energy from in between the rifts. I would be dead if I was not accustomed to the energy."


    "Why, I feel sick all of a sudden." Archil mumbles, falling over again.


    "My bad, Archil." Lyston says. "It is my curse. I touched and so you are affected. Don''t worry, the effects will wear of soon, since I only touched you for a moment. Probably..."


    "What?" Gilbert exclaims, while crouching next to Archil. "If he dies, I will never forgive you!"


    "Relax, Gilbert" Archil asks. "I should be fine in just a moment. So how do we get rid of the vessel now?"


    "Fire purges interriftal energy." Lyston says. "It is turned into an alternate form of energy when burned. Usually this energy is heat, but I have heard of cases where it is turned into lightning. Do you have anything on you?"


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Can''t you use your curse to set the chair on fire?" Gilbert asks.


    "No, interriftal energy is only transferred to people." Lyston explains. "I can''t use it on animals or plants."


    "Use this lantern." Archil says, while slowly regaining his strength. "It uses a rare substance found in the mines as fuel. I also have a flint and tinder on me. It is used to light the lantern."


    "Excellent!" Lyston exclaims.


    Lyston instantly grabs the lantern and flint and tinder from Archil, carefully avoiding touching him. With these he runs towards the vessel and smashes the lantern into a million pieces on its head. A thick black substance splatter everywhere. Lyston immediately strikes the flint. Sparks fly into the air, igniting the black substance and the vessel is instantly engulfed in flames. The eyes glow bright blue and its muscles start to move. It lets out a horrific scream as Maxwell realises he returned to a burning puppet and he is now experiencing the agony of a burning death. Gods can''t die, but they can surely feel like they are dying.


    "Run!" Lyston suddenly yells. "The interriftal energy will become heat soon!"


    Gilbert quickly takes position next to the door, after dragging Archil out of the room. Lyston dives through the door, just as the vessel in the now overly lit room starts to change. It seems to melt and a haze causes its image to distort. Suddenly the fire explodes quickly filling the room with an all consuming wrath. Electrical bolts arc through the room. A bright flash of light fills the blazing room.. Gilbert slams the door shut before the flames reach them. Smoke now fills the council hall making it an even darker and grimmer place than before. Archil climbs to his feet, testing his balance.


    "Did we destroy it?" Gilbert asks.


    "We better have." Lyston says. "If we didn''t, then I don''t think that I have another way to destroy it. My curse was of no effect and fire was my last resort."


    Suddenly the hall''s main entrance flies open. A squad of armed guards rush in, twenty at the very least and surround the three men. All of them are armed with spears except for one. The captain caries a sword. They all wear similar chest pieces made from iron. Archil, seeing the guards with drawn weapons, swiftly draws his own sword.


    "Sir, I don''t think you can beat them on your own." Gilbert says. "I can barely fight and Lyston''s curse requires him to touch his enemy. We will be of no help to you. Not to mention the fact that you are still weakened by Lyston''s curse."


    "Drop your weapons and surrender, or we will kill you where you stand." The captain of the guards states.


    Looking extremely annoyed with his own weakness, Archil drops his sword. The guards rush in and bind their hands on their backs, using ropes.


    "Sergeant, what is the meaning of this!" Archil says. "Is a council member not allowed to enter the council hall as he pleases? Can I not bring any guests along outside of meetings? Explain yourself!"


    To Archil''s right one of the guards suddenly collapses, clutching his stomach. He must have been the one that bound Lyston''s ropes. He is helped up and dragged out of the building by another guard.


    "I suddenly felt like I would find something of interest at the council hall." The captain explains, grinning. "It would seem like you people were planning to burn the building down. With this I am almost sure of a promotion. Saving the council hall from a devastating fire! A good days work, don''t you think?"


    A short man suddenly rushes into the building, looking extremely panicked. He moves in a weird, almost unnatural way. It is like his body is not truly his.


    "Where is Maxwell?" He says, hurriedly. "Someone plans to murder him!"


    "What?" The captain exclaims.


    The man continues to the door in the back. He yanks it open and is blasted by the flames, now pouring through the opened door. He seems to somehow have dodged the most of it, as if he knew it was coming.


    "They got here before I did." The man curses. "Who could have done this!"


    "Everyone out!" The captain yells. "Move it people!"


    Everyone leaves the room except for the short man, who is just standing in the room, looking around in confusion. His dying screams can be heard a few moments later.


    "Since Maxwell is dead, I am taking law into my hands for now." The captain states. "I hereby sentence all three of you to be executed by morning for high treason! Lock them up!"


    They are escorted to a group of cells where they spend a long and sleepless night.


    "Archil!" Lyston says. "Wake up, Archil. I must tell you something of great importance! If I am the first to die, cover your ears and run at the exact moment my head flies. If you do that, then there will be hope."


    "What?" Archil says, sleepily. "What do you mean, Lyston?"


    "No time!" Lyston says. "The sun is rising and I want you two to survive!"


    "Rise and shine, dead men!" The captain says, entering the cells. "Everything is ready and now all we need are your heads. Follow me please!"


    "Gilbert, wake up!" Archil says.


    Gilbert mumbles something inaudible.


    "What do you mean, sir?" Gilbert says, as he slowly remembers the events of the previous day. "Is it time, sir? I must say, it was an honour working by your side, sir."


    "It may be a little early for that, Gilbert." Archil says. "You have been a good friend to me. Now get up! How did you even fall asleep with this constant humming of Lyston? Anyway, let''s meet our death honourably like a Jardine should."


    "Hurry up!" The captain yells. "My promotion... I mean the crowd is waiting for us outside!"


    They follow the captain through the small door into a hallway, where a man stands waiting for them.


    "Hold on for a moment." He says. "I need to speak with them, alone."


    "As you wish, sir." The captain says, thinking more of his promotion than the situation.


    "Now with him gone, let me introduce myself." The man says. "I am Maxwell."


    Lyston immediately has a enraged look on his face.


    "How did you like burning to a crisp!" He says. "Just a small reflection of my hate towards you. I would gladly burn this new vessel too."


    "Truly, you gentlemen did impress me." Maxwell says. "However, considering how you burned me and would most likely repeat that act, I have no other way to beat Axsel. You three must die. Not to mention, Arthfael is furious with you."


    Maxwell starts walking away, but turns around.


    "One more thing, Archil." He says. "Your father, Master Jardine, works for me now."


    This left Archil in a state of utter confusion.


    "My father is dead, Maxwell." He says. "What did you do to him."


    "Not me!" Maxwell says. "He staged his own death. I merely provided both the decoy and the murder weapon. Chop, chop. Of to the stage with you!"


    "Maxwell!" Archil yells, but the captain has already reentered the hall.


    "You heard him!" The captain says. "Get moving."


    The sun slowly rises over the tops of the building as the three men step onto the stage. They are held up on the left side of the stage. Maxwell is in front of the crowd, looking at his end results from the first row. He has a massive grin on his face. The executioner starts to talk.


    "These three citizens have been charged with treason!" He says.


    As he continues to speak a figure, clad in dark, shifting robes walks up to Maxwell. Archil can hardly see the crowd from where he is standing now. The sun is blinding him.


    "So how are you, brother." The figure in robes says. "You seem confident in your hand."


    "Of course, Axsel." Maxwell says. "Just admit, this time I won the game. I''ve got all three of your pawns lined up, ready to be chopped up."


    "You do seem confident." Axsel sighs. "To be a god and not remember a thing. Have you been in this world for to long, Maxwell. Have the humans blinded your knowledge."


    "Stop with the games, Axsel." Maxwell says. "I win, you lose. Is that so hard for you to accept?"


    "In that case, you don''t need me here." Axsel says. "Or do you?"


    "The only reason I would want you here, is to see your face when their heads fall of." Maxwell says.


    "Enjoy your execution then, Maxwell." Axsel says, as he leaves.


    Meanwhile lyston is being escorted to the executioner. His head is placed on a wooden block. He closes his eyes and accepts his fate to die. His entire body relaxes. A man walks behind Archil.


    "I did not mean for this to happen, son." He says. "But the time of the honourable Jardines is over..."


    He loosens the ropes of Gilbert and Archil.


    "Since it won''t matter anymore, you might as well die freed from your bonds. Goodbye my beloved son."


    "You are a traitor, father." Archil says, crying. "May your soul be burned."


    "I fear that is your fate, my son. Not mine." Master Jardine says as he leaves.


    "Any last words, Lyston!" The executioner asks.


    "Maxwell, tell Arthfael he is inferior in every way to the fake god!" Lyston yells.


    This statement caused an uproar in the crowd. All forms of pity for this man melt like snow before the burning vessel of Maxwell. Hate takes its place.


    "You will now... die." The executioner says.


    He brings his heavy axe down or Lyston''s neck. Lyston''s head falls to the floor of the podium. Blood hits Maxwell''s face as it is forced out of Lyston''s headless body. Archil remembers to cover his ears with his unbound hands and got Gilbert to do the same. For a second absolute silence is present. Lyston''s constant humming finally stopped. A tear drips across Archil''s face. Suddenly the air starts to vibrate. A humming now in a higher pitch fills the air. It gets louder and louder. The crowd falls to its knees. The executioner falls of of the podium onto the staggering Maxwell. The remaining energy in Lyston''s body is forced out, causing it to vibrate along with the air. Archil and Gilbert run for their lives, not looking back at their fallen comrade. As the humming ceased and Maxwell regains his sense, he walks up to Master Jardine. He takes him back into the building.


    "Master Jardine, how come the prisoners were lose?" Maxwell asks, furiously.


    "He is my son!" Master Jardine says. "I thought he deserved to die a free man!"


    "You have been of great use to me, Jardine. Thanks to you I have full control over the city after pulling just a few more strings."


    "Thank you, sir." Master Jardine says.


    "No, thank you." Maxwell says, pulling out a knife and stabbing Master Jardine through the throat.


    "You win this round, Axsel." Maxwell says, while cleaning his blade.

 (04) Dishonour

    After Gilbert and Archil exit the city, they see a cloaked figure standing next to the road.


    "An interesting thing is it not?" Axsel says. "Interriftal energy is one of the most intriguing


    substances in this world. It can be turned into every form of energy known to man. The


    energy present in Lyston was tuned to sound. It leaving his body in this form caused his


    hum. The only way he would have been cured from his problem, would have been at the


    hand of a mage. Unfortunately for Lyston no mages are left in the city of Oliron. Truly a


    tragic tale for him."


    Archil reacts to this.


    "Mages?" He says. "Do you mean to tell me that magic does exist?"


    "Not magic." Axsel says. "Interriftal energy! Mages have a special connection to it . I do not


    know why, but they can manipulate interriftal energy freely."


    "So why would you suddenly tell us something of value?" Gilbert says. "You have kept


    most information from us. You keep speaking in riddles."


    "They took one of my cards." Axsel says. "I am merely drawing new ones."


    "So what are you going to do with your current vessel?" Archil asks. "Won''t he be killed?"


    "Vessel?" Axsel asks. "Oh, yes I forgot to mention. This is no vessel, Archil. I am special


    among the gods. A mage to be exact. I can manipulate energy to form matter. This is


    beyond any human mage. I use this to create a human shell in this world to inhabit. It is


    why I keep my cloak."


    "Then why can''t you help us more?" Gilbert says.


    "The beliefs in the strength of humans on their own does, unlike with many other gods,


    exist." Axsel says. "If I interfere with humans too much I will just be another Arthfael, no


    matter my intentions. This war is mine, but I cannot fight it. That is why I need you. Now


    listen carefully. Your mission for me is to find a human mage and recruit him or her to our


    cause. Try and convert him as quickly as possible. Everyone loyal to Arthfael can have his


    soul ripped out. That is why they needed to convince Lyston to help them. Good luck,


    gentlemen. You''ll need it."


    "Wait!" Archil says. "Why are you so incredibly intent on helping humans."


    "Another time, Archil." Axsel says, as he walks back to the city. "Goodby, gentlemen!"


    Axsel disappears in a cloud of dust, swept away by the wind. It is a beautiful area.


    Because of the lake around Oliron the natural areas beyond the lake have been


    preserved. Archil and Gilbert are currently just south of the city. The hill they stand on is


    completely covered in tall grass and flowers.


    "It is beautiful out here, is it not, Gilbert?" Archil says. "It is nice and quiet. Their are no


    Corpsefeeders out here. Those infernal, black birds. I am honestly surprised we have


    never left the city. The lake shines from this side. From the city it simply looks grim, dark


    and dirty."


    "Lyston is gone, sir." Gilbert says in a sad tone. "Does it not bother you that the man who


    got him killed is leading us?"


    "Maxwell and Arthfael did the killing, Gilbert." Archil says. "It was for that reason I forgave


    Lyston. I can''t blame the fake god for this. Axsel does what he can to honour his ideals and


    keep us alive. He believes in our strength. Now we must belief in him and find that mage.


    Maxwell most likely has control over the city now. He holds the lives of everyone we ever


    knew in his hands. The only thing that can save us now is the game Axsel plays. The fake


    god won''t betray us unless he really needs to. Our lives for the lives of everyone on this


    island. Does that seem like a bad cause to you?"


    "I''ll follow you, as I have always followed you, sir." Gilbert says. "I merely mean why should


    be careful around the fake god."


    "It is nearly midday, Gilbert." Archil says. "Let''s move to the nearest town. A mage should


    stand out and we might catch some rumours."


    "Obeying the fake god it is." Gilbert sighs.


    "Say, Gilbert." Archil says. "Do you have anything better to do? We might as well make


    ourselves useful."


    "So where is the nearest village?" Gilbert asks.


    "If we head south, along the roads, we should arrive at a village." Archil says. "George also


    made maps of Oliron. It would have been nice to have them with us now, since I have only


    seen them once or twice."


    "South it is." Gilbert says, as he walks towards the road. "We best move as fast as


    possible, sir. We can buy supplies with the quartz we have with, but we will need to find a


    market first. Add that up to our low supplies..."


    "We can travel for two days like this." Archil concludes, following Gilbert. "It should only


    take around one day to get to our destination."


    "And so we march..." Gilbert says. "Unarmed and all."


    "Too bad I couldn''t grab the executioners axe or something during the confusion earlier."


    Archil says. "It would have been nice at least have a weapon on this trip. Which reminds


    me, remember those Goblins I told you about?"


    "The small grey creature?" Gilbert asks. "Yes, I remember. Why do you ask, sir?"


    "We are likely to meet a group." Archil says. "Depending on our luck, they will be armed or


    not. They will carry weapons and armour, if they can lay their hands on it. They appear to


    be a creatures spawned by one of the eastern gods. I believe the god is called Sracdeen.


    His people are utterly devoted to him and yet he sets these wretched rodents on them to


    haunt their sand filled towns. It is almost like the Corpsefeeders, however the


    Corpsefeeders don''t eat the living. I guess a god can only do so much with animals and


    interriftal energy."


    "Any idea why they were made, sir?" Gilbert asks.


    "I don''t actually know." Archil says. "I think it might just be a cruel amusement to Sracdeen.


    Let''s ask Axsel next time we meet him."


    "I ment the Corpsefeeders, sir." Gilbert says. "I don''t know the first thing about Sracdeen,


    so I can''t relate to nor understand any of his reasoning. No, it is our world that concerns


    me now."


    "The Corpsefeeders..." Archil starts. "George wrote about it in ''Oliron in the ages'' volume


    2. He states that one day a new species of bird appeared in the streets of Oliron. He


    describes it as a black bird with sharp claws and a beak filled with barbed teeth angled


    back. It has red glowing eyes and threatens anything that should disturb its meal as it rips


    the flesh right of of a decaying corpse. He also states that a smaller very similar bird


    variant was hunted down and devoured by these vicious creatures. They do solve a


    problem though. It appears that as long as people die in the streets, they won''t attack


    people. They clean up for us as we die, so to speak."


    "Then why did you say Arthfael was responsible, sir?" Gilbert says. "He may not be."


    "Gilbert, first of all, I never said Arthfael did it." Archil responds. "I said Corpsefeeders are


    similar to Goblins. There is also the fact that they appeared overnight much like humans


    apparently did. I still can''t quite believe thar Arthfael build the city of Oliron."


    Suddenly a great rumbling noise can be heard from the city. Archil and Gilbert look around


    and watch in horror as the central spire of Oliron crashes to the ground, doubtlessly


    crushing dozens. The fire Lyston caused, caused not only Lycon''s body to die, but it also


    caused the council hall to fall.


    "Let''s get going, Gilbert." Archil says. "I have seen enough of this place."


    The two men walk south with the sun behind them and the forests ahead. A huge cloud of


    dust and debris hangs above Oliron as its finest building lays in ruin. A faint laughter can


    be heard, carried in the wind. A man celebrating victory as that which Arthfael build was no


    more. A building that a mere fire would not destroy was now broken by the drawing of a


    card. For only fire fueled by Arthfael''s own power could destroy a structure of his making.


    It was hours later, when the darkness of night had already engulfed the city, that the dust


    settled and the true damage could be observed.


    "Fire..." Archil whispers. "Those wretched Goblins can build fires... And tents too! They


    must have found supplies from a farm around here."


    Archil and Gilbert lie in a bush on a hill and are looking down on a big Goblin camp. Fires


    are lit everywhere and Goblins gather in masses around them. Tents are scattered


    between them and in a few places remains of burned down tents can be seen. Near the


    centre of the camp sits a big, grey ball of fat. He sits atop a big throne-like chair and looks


    around at his minions. The area around him is almost completely empty, as the Goblins do


    not dare approach their king. A sound much like singing can be heard from the camp. It


    can hardly be called singing, but there is no better way to describe it. They seem to speak


    in a tongue of their own, gurgling and gesturing at each other. They crawl about on four legs


    and no Goblin is fully the same. They all have unique deformities and self made clothing.


    "Not only have they mastered fire, but they also have a leader." Archil says. "This is far


    worse than I could have ever imagined. Not to mention their numbers. They outnumber the


    citizen of Oliron five on one at the very least! The sun will rise soon and they will retreat to


    their holes and tents, until the moons shine upon them once more. The sun burns them,


    you see. That is what keeps them in check in the east. The sun shines brighter there and


    so the Goblins have to hide further under the surface. Our sun should suffice though. We


    should have a save passage to the town further south. That is, if there still is a city."


    A light slowly starts to shine on Archil''s back. As he said, the sun is almost up and the


    Goblins will hide. At the first sign of the sun peeking over the hills, the Goblins start to


    panic, running around wildly and falling over each other. The king is carried away by a


    large group of Goblins, who find it visibly difficult to get there master out of the hateful


    sun''s way.


    "A light made by divine energy, burning so we might see..." Archil says. "Truly a wonderful


    thing it is. I am curious how it got there though... Maybe the fake god knows."


    "So it burns them because the sun is made by the gods?" Gilbert says. "Why, if they are


    both created by a god then they must surely be able to coexist."


    "Not all things are of the same god, nor do I know who made the ball of fire we call sun."


    Archil says. "Gods may not fully agree on what is good and what is not. They might even


    fight, like the fake god does."


    They go down the hill into the Goblin camp.


    "Are you sure this is wise, sir?" Gilbert asks. "Won''t the Goblins attack us out here?"


    "My dear Gilbert!" Archil says. "Did I not say that sunlight burns them. When I say burns


    them, I mean like what fire does to flesh. If they stay in direct sunlight for more than a


    minute or so their skin falls of. They might try and attack us, but they would fall long before


    reaching us."


    Of course a Goblin is dumb enough to at that moment come charging at the two men


    walking in between the tents. He has a worn sword in his hand combined with a ''modified''


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.chain mail. He seems to feel invincible, wielding his weaponry. He jumps out of the


    shadows and lands a metre away from Archil. He would have continued his charge, but as


    soon as the creature hit the ground his legs collapsed under him and he fell gurgling in


    pain. He rolls over the ground trying to stop the fires erupting on its pale, leathery skin, but


    for every fire he extinguished, another emerged. Soon the gurgling stopped and the


    burning Goblin lay dead on the ground, his skin slowly peeling of of his bones, which then


    also caught fire and burned.


    "So brave." Archil says, sarcastically. "I find some humans can be similar in behaviour to


    that Goblin. Rushing into everything that seems like a good idea, while it should be


    considered an act of stupidity. He brought me a weapon at the very least. Too bad he


    ruined the chain mail though. That could have also been useful on our travels."


    Archil picks up the sword, cleaning the ashes of the hilt. He puts it in the sheath that was


    never taken from him.


    "It''s a good thing they decided to execute us so quickly." Archil continues. "They had no


    time to really give us new clothing. Having your own clothes and some of the items you


    own is always a useful thing."


    "Why would Goblins act so reckless." Gilbert asks. "Are they not also living creatures that


    should treasure life more than anything?"


    "But they are not living by themselves." Archil says. "Few other creatures behave in the


    same way. We call it honour. Goblins call it something like ''gracrark''. The Jardine who


    wrote the third volume of ''Oliron through the ages'' knew a great deal about those things.


    He wrote ''Creatures of Wonder'' before starting on the third volume. It is a great book


    describing many creatures that seem out of place in this world. How he figured out parts of


    the Goblin Tongue is beyond me though. He also included humans and gods, which is why


    the book is less popular. Most people don''t like being compared to Goblins. Too bad I can''t


    recall his name..."


    "Jardines seem to be fairly smart, sir." Gilbert says. "How come Master Jardine betrayed


    everyone like that? Would he not see the good of the people rather than his personal


    gain?"


    "Where there is no hope, one must find hope." Archil says. "If one cannot find hope,


    another must give one hope. If another cannot give one hope, one will fall to darkness.


    The beginning quote of ''Oliron in the ages'' volume two. My father did not find hope, nor did


    anyone extend it to him. At that point he only saw darkness and he tried to do what he


    could to help Oliron. All was in vain though, since Maxwell will not share power, because


    he is a minion send by Arthfael and Arthfael wants to rule all."


    By now the two men have passed the Goblin camp. None of the other Goblins feel brave


    enough to step into the light and attack the humans, not after seeing what became of the


    first Goblin that tried. They just sit there, waiting in the darkness.


    "They have excellent smell, but they will get bored if the hunt is too long." Archil says. "If


    we march far enough, they will not follow."


    As they draw further away from the camp Archil decides to try and force a reaction from


    the Goblins.


    "Kregracrark!" He yells back.


    Instantly one of the Goblins, smaller than the last one, with a big bulge on his back, forgets


    all about the sun and the distance between him and the humans. He charges out to meet


    them, but soon he also falls as the vents out of his clothing. He catches fire and dies.


    "What was that?" Gilbert asks, confused. "Sir, what did you say to them?"


    "I called them honour-less, I think." Archil says. "Just confirming that the language is still


    the same. They are not supposed to have a leader, so I decided to see if the language had


    also changed. I know too little of it to more than insult them though..."


    "Is that not risky?" Gilbert asks. "Won''t they be more determent to chase us then?"


    "They''ll start following us and as soon as they leave camp, they''ll forget why. Don''t worry


    about it, Gilbert. Either way, the village is only two hours out and I am starving."


    "Could we not eat Goblin?" Gilbert asks. "I am truly starving."


    "Murdering a vessel worries you, but eating a grey mutation is fine with you?" Archil says. "There is nothing to really eat of of them anyway. Not after they get into contact with sunlight. If I, in some way, understand interriftal energy, then it should react with the first form of energy. In this case that is heat generated by direct sunlight. They are burned to a crisp."


    Two hours later they reach a small village and they sit down in the nearest tavern. They


    take a seat in one of the darker corners of the room. Archil orders a cup of water and a


    bread and Gilbert orders a bowl soup. It seems to contain more fish than anything else.


    "And now we listen, Gilbert." Archil says. "We should see if anyone has seen some sort of


    magic."


    "How do we know it really is magic?" Gilbert says. "The fake god told us nothing."


    "I am sure we will identify what is magic." Archil says. "It should be quite clear once we


    hear it."


    "The Goblins up north have been causing trouble again." A strong looking man in a corner


    says. "Ten farms pillaged and burned in the last week. What is the city of Oliron doing?


    Should they not send an army to reinforce these villages?"


    "I had an incredibly strange dream last night." A woman says at the bar. "A man walked


    onto the middle of the town square and all the buildings were burning. The something fell


    on me and I woke up."


    "A fire suddenly started near my house." A big man says close to the woman. "It nearly


    destroyed all four houses gathered there. Bloody kids, creating fires for their own


    amusement."


    "A burned down street..." Archil says. "A good place to start."


    Archil walks over to the man and sits down next to him.


    "So where is this burned down street." Archil asks.


    "Out of the door, go right." He answers. "Third street on your left. I thought you knew


    where my house was though."


    He looks to his right, to the man he was talking to. The man looks confused, since he did


    not ask the question. Archil has already left his chair and starts moving towards the door.


    He gestures Gilbert to follow his, as the two men are arguing about the person who asked


    the question. Archil and Gilbert leave the tavern and move to the burned down street.


    "Curious indeed, Gilbert." Archil says. "It is not impossible though that this was just a


    normal fire."


    "That is what I keep telling them." A young man, about Gilbert''s age, says. He is chained


    and appears to be beaten up. "Yet they insist that it was my fault. They say I performed


    sorcery to settle some kind of score with one of the occupant. I did not and I would not


    know what unfortunate souls live in these houses. I am Xandrian, nice to meet you."


    "I am Archil and I have a question for you, Xandrian. Can you truly use magic?"


    "Are you crazy?" Xandrian says. "Magic? Me? Do you really think I would still be here if I


    possessed such a thing as magic?"


    "Then you are not my concern." Archil states, bluntly. "Come along, Gilbert. We have a


    mage to find!"


    "Wait!" Xandrian yells. "I am a mage... It just seems to generally be a good idea to keep it


    quiet."


    "What happened to you supposedly escaping?" Archil asks. "If you are a mage, then why


    are you still here?"


    "Magic does not work as simple as that." Xandrian says. "Not only would I endanger


    everyone around me, but I also need some kind of ignition. The way you talk, I assume


    you know about interriftal energy?"


    "It seems to me like we need to talk somewhere private." Archil says. "Gilbert, can you


    break him out?"


    "Of course, sir." Gilbert says. He swiftly picks the lock on the chains. "All done, sir. He can


    move now."


    "Xandrian, do you have a house around here?" Archil asks.


    "Yes, it is just a few blocks down." Xandrian says. "I will take you there. So, what brings


    you fine gentlemen to Grimsby?"


    "Grimsby?" Gilbert asks.


    "The village we are in, Gilbert." Archil says. "And I thought I was rather clear that our goal


    is to find a mage to support us in our... endeavours."


    "Well, let''s see if I can be of any use to you two." Xandrian says, entering a small, wooden


    hut.


    "You live here?" Gilbert exclaims.


    "Yes, people tent to mistake mages for mediums, you see." Xandrian explains. "Jobs


    outside of the shrines are particularly hard to come by when everyone treats you as such."


    "Now let me show you something." Xandrian says. "Gilbert, do you have a firestarter on


    you?"


    "No, I do not." Gilbert replies. "Archil had one, but he gave it to someone who lost his


    head..."


    "I am very sorry to hear that." Xandrian says nervously. "This will be somewhat harder


    then."


    Xandrian starts to search in a big pile of items. He finally finds a worn down piece of flint.


    "This will do." He says, sitting back down. "Now observe."


    He lights a small piece of wood on fire. The fire burns low and dim. Xandrian has closed


    his eyes and is concentrating deeply. Then, suddenly, the entire piece burned to a crisp


    instantly. Suddenly Archil''s muscles contract. He jumps up and Gilbert does to same.


    "What was that?" Gilbert yells surprised.


    "That was magic, Gilbert." Xandrian explains. "You see, when I call on interriftal energy, I


    can direct it anywhere. When I direct it at fire, it will cause more fire."


    "And the thing that hit us?" Gilbert asks.


    "That is the downside..." Xandrian says. "Whenever I do use magic, a portion of the


    interriftal energy is turned into lightning. Lightning being my speciality. It is most likely the


    weakest of all, since lightning is not easy to come by."


    "Can you do something else, besides create fires and lightning?" Archil asks.


    "I can temporarily cure mediums and I can detect other mages." Xandrian answers. "Also, I


    can see what energy your soul is in tune with. For example, Gilbert, you are in tune with


    movement and, Archil, you are in tune with... hmmm... Oh, it doesn''t matter. The point is


    that I can tell how your energy reacts. Did you know that a Goblin born with a soul that is in


    tune with fire already burns before they are even fully grown? This sometimes leads to the


    death of more than just one of them."


    "Did you ever meet another mage?" Gilbert asks, not bothered by the change of subject.


    "Yes." Xandrian answers. "Only once though. The rarest of all perhaps. A god capable of


    creating his own body in this realm."


    "What did he look like?" Gilbert asks, already suspecting the answer.


    A panicked scream suddenly arose from outside. A deep voice yelled in throat noises.


    ''Kregracrark'' it yells at random intervals.


    "Those must be..." Gilbert starts.


    "Yes, Gilbert." Archil says. "Golbins. They have followed us."

 (05) From Crimson Flame

    "But they couldn''t be in sunlight, right?" Gilbert says.


    "Did you two disturb the Goblin camp up north?" Xandrian says, now pale. "Fool! They


    dug themselves a tunnel system all the way to the village. We guard it, but that won''t


    do any good if there are Goblins out for revenge on the loose!"


    "Gilbert, follow me!" Archil says. "This is our fault. Let''s fix it."


    They walk through the door and see a few panicked people running down the street.


    At the other end of the street, in the shadow of the buildings, is a pack of goblins clad


    in leathercovered in gold coins.


    "Kregracrark!" They yell, spotting Gilbert and Archil. They all run at Gilbert and Archil.


    Gilbert picks up some rocks, Archil draws his rusty sword, Xandrian stands back.


    "Good luck you two." He says. "I am no fighter..."


    "In the name of the fake god!" Archil curses. "Grab some stones and throw them or


    something. There are seven of them and three of us. We need all of us to stand a chance!"


    "This is your problem, not mine..." Xandrian says.


    "Kregracrark!" The goblins yell.


    Suddenly a fierce wave of wind blasts through the streets. The goblins are flung aside,


    catching the brunt of the wave. One of them is even flung into the air, above the rooftops.


    He ignites in flame falling from the sky as a burning grey ball. Screaming he lands and is


    still.


    Archil, Gilbert and Xandrian are more fortunate. Their higher weight and the further


    distance from the source caused them to only be knocked off their feet.


    "What was that? Gilbert yells. "Xandrian!"


    "Not me!" He yells, climbing to his feet.


    Suddenly a loud roar fills the streets, followed by another gust of wind. They were


    prepared this time and stood their ground. The Goblins however got knocked down again.


    A tremor shook the earth. A massive creature full of red scales has landed at the beginning


    of the street.


    "Good day, puny morsels." It says in a deep voice. The noise seems to be inside Archil''s


    head. "I am Laeth, the great dragon from the east, lord of crimson flame. You, human who


    seems to go by the name of Archil, you seem to know what I am. Although, the image you


    associate me with seems to be that of how my kind was fifty years ago."


    "Dragons..." Archil says. "The book ''Creatures of Wonder'' mentioned a small, scalled,


    flying reptile that was similarly influenced as the Goblins. They, however, could use the


    interriftal energy in their body more freely and they did not burn in the sunlight. The book


    even mentions the creatures spitting fire!"


    "Yes, human." Laeth says. "However, did this book state that we communicate through our


    minds? That we can grow as large as your tallest structures? That we are undefeated?"


    "No..." Archil says. "It did mention however that Dragons are drawn to shiny objects,


    particularly gold."


    "Gold is but a... luxury we desire." The dragon explains. "It calls to use. It tells us to collect


    it. We merely feel it a pastime to gather it."


    The dragon bends down his head and blows to ashes of the burned goblin away. He uses


    his claws to gather the gold into a pile. He bends down again and swallowed the pile


    whole.


    "A fine beginning for my treasure on this small island. It will make a fine kingdom that will


    fall under my rule."


    One of the Goblins wielding two swords regains his senses and charges at the bragging


    Dragon. He brings down both of his swords on one of its legs. With a loud clang both of


    them break, but the Goblin is not deterred. Other Goblins gather and they start to cheer for


    the fighting Goblin. They call him ''Ginskra''. Apparently not all Goblins rushed recklessly


    into impossible situations.


    "Ginskra." Archil mumbles. "Revenge, if I am not mistaken."


    "You, a puny Goblin, try to blemish my scales!" Laeth roars furiously. "My scales are steel!


    Do you suppose you are capable of piercing steel?"


    Laeth lifts up one of his massive feet and brings it down on Ginskra. The impact,


    strengthened by the Goblin''s own interriftal energy, creates a crater on the spot. Laeth


    roars triumphantly, as if the fight took hours.


    A moment of silence falls over the goblins. Slowly they start calling another name.


    ''Wraskra'' steps forward. Wraskra, Anger in translation, starts running at Laeth. Wraskra


    wields a lumberjack''s axe and brings this up high to hit Laeth.


    "Enough!" Leath roars, spitting a massive column of flame at the Goblins.


    The Goblins scatter at the sight of the hated flames. Three fall to the fire, crying out in


    agony. One of them lights another on fire. Only one manages to flee from the Dragon. He


    drops his weapon, a rusted dagger, and makes his way down the street. Wraskra and the


    others are now merely heaps of ash and gold.


    Xandrians looks in amazement. "He used chemicals from his body to create a flame and


    then he strengthened the fire with interriftal energy." He says. "That is some fine magic.


    Not to mention the lack of a side effect."


    "You have good eyes, human." Laeth says, happy with the compliment. "What would your


    last sight see? Fire? Trampling? Do you want to be eaten? Please tell me quickly, before I


    decide for you."


    "Why do you deem it necessary to kill us?" Archil asks surprised.


    "Why do you chose to swat an insect or trample a plant? Laeth asks. "It amuses us to kill


    that which stands on our path to the future. We all rejoice at killing that which we deem


    useless, no? Now tell me..."


    Suddenly Laeth stops. He groans in pure agony. Electricity fills the air, electrocuting both


    Archil and Gilbert. Xandrian stands behind them perfectly calm with his eyes closed, but


    he seems to be tired.


    "Human!" Laeth roars angrily. "You know magic? How dare you.."


    Again Laeth falls to his knees in pain. Again both Archil and Gilbert are electrocuted. Again


    Xandrian seems more and more tired. Finally Laeth gives in and flies away, slamming into


    the side of one of the buildings. He heads north. In the direction of the city of Oliron and


    the great darkwood forest.


    "What was that?" Gilbert asks, utterly confused. "Xandrian was using magic, that much is


    clear to me, but even with magic, how do you chase away a creature of that size?"


    "Lightning, Gilbert, lightning." Xandrian says. "I noticed what the effect of it was on the


    people around me, so I experimented with electricity on corpsefeeders a while back. It


    turns out that if lightning is added to the brain of an animal it convulses and collapses. That


    is why the Dragon left. I was creating an agonising situation that left him incapable of even


    thinking straight."


    "It was still a bet though." Archil states. "There was no guarantee that a creature of that


    size would react the same as a corpsefeeder."


    "Oh, but it didn''t." Xandrian says. "You see, all corpsefeeders I tried this on died almost


    instantly after showing some signs of agony."


    "What caused your decision to finally help us, Xandrian?" Gilbert suddenly asks. "What


    happened to ''I am no fighter''?"


    "Well obviously a Dragon was threatening to kill me." Xandrian says. "The Goblins were


    caused by the two of you and so they were your problem. The Dragon on the other hand,


    although he did come here chasing the Goblins, was something you two had no control


    over and so I decided he was my problem as well."


    "So are you with us, Xandrian?" Archil asks. "Will you dare join our small cult of idiots?"


    "You serve the fake god, yes?" Xandrian asks. "Funny how the one who taught me should


    ask my help in such a manner. If it is the fake god we serve, I would follow you, Archil."


    "It is decided then." Archil says. "And so our cult numbers three once more!"


    "I can''t help but notice that the fake god seems to have prepared all of this in advance..."


    Gilbert says. "Is there any decision we make that he hasn''t already made for us years


    ago?"


    "We chose to follow him, Gilbert." Archil says. "That is our choice. Now all we need to do is


    follow his plan and maybe we will see an end to these times of confusion."


    "Now what to do with this fire?" Xandrian asks. "The Dragon left his mark here and I will be


    blamed for all of it, I fear. It is so easy to blame the odd one out..."


    The street is in absolute ruin. Most wood is on fire and all buildings are marked by at least


    some type of damage.


    "It is of no concern to us anymore." Archil says. "All we need to do is leave."


    A woman suddenly appears at the beginning of the street. She has a empty look in her


    eyes as she walks towards the three men. Suddenly her eyes clear up. Panic appears in


    her eyes. Archil notices the knife she wields. Her horrified gaze is fixed on Xandrian.


    "You!" She yells.


    This was followed by a short mumble to herself. Archil could make out the two words:


    vision and devastation. She runs at Xandrian, knife raised high.


    "I will not let you destroy me and this town!" She cries.


    Xandrian is overwhelmed by surprise. He steps back in an attempt to stay out of the


    woman''s reach, but he trips and falls backwards. She is almost ready to stab him now.


    Just a few more steps. Is this the end for him? Is he to die just after making new friends?


    Suddenly the knife flies through the air. Archil has stepped in and used his sword to disarm


    the woman. Confused she falls over backwards. In the mean time, Gilbert, who is


    completely oblivious to the unfolding drama, is happily collecting gold coins from the fallen


    Goblins.


    "Why are you trying the kill our friend?" Archil asks the woman. "Did he do anything to


    deserve such a fate as death?"


    "Can''t you see?" She cries. "He will burn this town to ashes! Look around you and see for


    yourself! He must die before we all do!"


    "I can assure you, madam, that this man has nothing to do with the devastation you see in


    front of you." Archil says. "In fact, this man is the reason the street still stands. You should


    thank him for it, rather than stabbing him!"


    "But... but my vision?" She stutters.


    "Dreams are either a scene presented to use by some hateful god, or just the product of


    our own imagination." Archil explains, remembering this woman from the tavern. "We


    should not act solely on what we experience in dreams and vision, because an entirely


    different truth may play a part in the matter."


    The woman appears to have been calmed by these words, albeit more because of


    confusion than of understanding.


    "Not all gods have the best interests for humanity in mind." Archil continues. "There is only


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report itone who would have us all not be pieces in an enormous game of chess. He would rather


    see us all freed from the other gods and so live our own life as we chose to. The fake god


    will protect humanity when all other gods abuse us. Will you truly follow our other god?"


    The woman seems to have better understanding of Archil''s words, but she still seems


    mystified at the meaning of most.


    "Now please, go home and live your life free of the gods that would abuse you." Archil


    says.


    The woman leaves, all intent of killing Xandrian gone.


    "I am not losing another comrade to one of Arthfael''s mind tricks." Archil says.


    "Thanks, I guess." Xandrian says. "I would have died there..."


    "By all means, don''t mess up like that again." Archil says. "Being with our little cult brings


    along its own set of dangers."


    "Noted." Xandrian says.


    "I have gathered all the gold, sir." Gilbert says. "We should be able to trade them for some


    quartz so we at least have some currency to spend."


    "Well done, Gilbert." Archil says. "Now, let us leave this hellish street and move to a warm


    tavern. We all need a good nights rest."


    "I am impressed, Archil." Axsel says in an echoing voice. Archil is standing on a white


    plain, stretching infinitely. In front of him stands Axsel, in his weird, shimmering cloak. "Not


    only did you find yourself a mage, you also saved his life by calming that woman."


    "Why does it seem like you plan for everything?" Archil asks. "Xandrian told us that you


    were the one to teach him magic!"


    Archil never noticed this before, but it seemed he had trouble breathing on this side of the


    rift. He always assumed to just be a dreamlike state, but it was more than that. It was a


    physical plain were souls, beings made from interriftal energy, moved about as if they were


    on Archil''s own side of the interrift.


    "Amazing, isn''t it?" Axsel says. "It seems like you have only now realised that this is in fact


    no dream. Yet it is not physical either. It is something in between. For one, the reasons that


    breathing is difficult here, is because this place lacks air. You don''t need to breath at all in


    fact. Right now you are merely a being of energy. And energy can interact with energy,


    allowing this place to exist."


    "If it is so amazing, why would the gods look at our world instead?" Archil asks.


    The fake god laughs. "Your questions do always intrigue me!" He says. "This world needs


    nothing. We don''t eat, drink or breath. We merely are. And simply being is incredibly


    tedious and boring. That is all the primal gods can be since the explosion. The explosion,


    you see, had the effect that beings of pure energy could no longer exist on your side.


    Primal gods live fully on this side, incapable of doing anything more than watch.


    Secondary gods however are born on both sides. We can visit your side through mediums


    and vessels."


    "Is our world really that more interesting than this world of wonder?" Archil asks, still


    amazed.


    "Only one god still fully resides on your side." Axsel says. "He is not very lucky however.


    He is the one who made the Atracarian cities in the north. In ancient times, when gods still


    roamed the physical realm. One god called Suntrius traveled to the stars after he finished


    his grand marble city. There he found many worlds and places full of wonder. Arthfael


    heard of Suntrius'' travels and became enraged. How dare any god defy him by visiting the


    stars first! Arthfael chased after Suntrius until they met in the deep empty void. Suntrius


    told Arthfael about all the wonders he had seen, about the endlessness of this eternal void.


    Arthfael did not listen however. He cast a flaming spear of energy straight at Suntrius.


    Suntrius was still lost in amazement though and when he finally started to hurriedly make a


    barrier to shield him it was already too late. The spear hit Suntrius and caused his own


    energy to ignite in flame. All that the barrier he cast did was slow the burn and so who we


    once knew as Suntrius is now the Sun. The Atricarians do in fact still pray to their god and


    they even wish to die in his light."


    "And what of the moons?" Archil asks curiously.


    "What?" Axsel says. "Oh, no. Those are just massive rocks that reflect the Sun''s light.


    Now, back to business. That dragon you met, Laeth, he is one of the creations of


    Sracdeen. It would have been nice to have him as an ally, but now that Xandrian fried his


    nervous system that might be a rather difficult endeavour. The pressing matter now, that


    we need people to rally to our cause. I suggest you travel to all the towns on Oliron and


    convert their populations. Once that is done, our unholy war can begin."


    The dream already starts to fade away, before Archil can even respond.


    "Good luck, Archil." The fake god says. "I fear you will need it."


    So it was finally beginning... A war of ideals is about to be unleashed on the worlds.


    Archil wakes up early in the morning.


    "War..." He thinks.


    Gilbert walks into his room.


    "You are already awake, sir?" He asks. "I was just about to wake you up. Xandrian thinks it


    that we leave the city at once."


    "Tell Xandrian that we will leave, when I finish up in town." Archil says. "A war is about to


    start and we need an army to fight it."


    "A war, sir?" Gilbert says confused. "The fake god spoke to you? I will go inform mister


    Xandrian. You best get ready. If you are to have a speech, you best not look like some


    dusty traveller."


    "I know, Gilbert." Archil says. "Now go. I will be right down for breakfast. After a fine meal


    we can resume spreading our resolution. What is on the menu?"


    "Bread and soup, sir." Gilbert says, leaving the room.


    Archil goes downstairs to get some food. The tavern is crowded today. It would seem like a


    lot of people are in utter confusion, because of the burned and battered street. After


    ordering a bowl of soup, Archil starts to listen. Again people speak of the decrease in food


    left for the town and the increase of Goblins in this area. A few guards were killed during


    the Goblin intrusion yesterday. Their bodies are disfigured and beyond recognition.


    The soup is a dull meal and the bread is hard and dry. Archil, who is used to food for


    nobility, is having a hard time eating it all, but he is slowly managing. After he finished the


    bread and left half of his soup, Xandrien walks into the room.


    "That is the best soup I have seen in years." He says. "You aren''t going to finish it?"


    "You can take it, if that is what you wish..." Archil says. "Their are enough people here. I


    think I should get started."


    Archil gets up and walks towards the deserted podium. Nobody is really in the mood for


    music or otherwise. He clears his throat.


    "People of Grimsby, I ask your attention for a mere moment!" Archil starts. He waits a


    moment for the conversations to die down. "There are so many things wrong with this


    world. Goblins raiding our streets, eating our food, killing our loved ones. A capital that


    takes all and gives nothing. A rule that goes unquestioned and unhindered. Have our gods


    abandoned us, now that even dragons are crossing our borders and scorching our


    streets? I say, yes! Our gods have abandoned us completely. They don''t care if we live or


    die. They merely see us as amusement. They treat us like pawns in their little game,


    throwing away our lives as if they were... worthless... meaningless. However, not all gods


    see us in this darkened light. In our realm there are two gods that see us as humans, more


    than as pawns. One is fake the other was man. Only one of them can save us. The other


    we pray to. The fake god, Axsel, shall be our savior, where Arthfael shall be our undoing.


    Lycon may have been human, but his hands are tied. He will not help us. Only that which


    is fake can break invisible bonds. Only lies can destroy deception. Only hope can destroy


    that what causes fear. Do we truly obey deception and fear? Do we truly want to be bound


    to a god that would abuse us?We all know what happened to the vessels. Arthfael does


    not see us as minions. All he sees is puppets. Only that which is fake shall destroy him


    and through the fake god we shall be his undoing. Join our cause and help us build a


    country of humans, not of gods. Not their world, our world!"


    People look at Archil in utter amazement. They did not expect anyone here to speak out


    against the capital they serve, nor the gods they prey to. Slowly Xandrien starts to clap. He


    is joined by others and soon the entire room is cheering for Archil.


    "We shall create the first empire that does not let itself be controlled by a god!" Archil yells.


    "And more than one god there shall never be again." Xandrian says.


    "Long live the fake god, long live the fake priest!" Gilbert cheers. Others quickly join him.


    The normal people are already completely fed up with the Goblins and the capital. Archil''s


    speech might not be of the greatest quality, but it is exactly what these people need. A


    reason, or maybe a person even, to follow towards the capital to save themselves from


    impending doom.


    "When the time is right and the other towns are informed of our plans, I will send for all of


    you." Archil says. "Those who wish to join me, meet me at the city of Oliron once the


    message arrives. Arthfael''s tower has fallen. His throne shall be next!"


    Having said that he turns and heads towards the exit. A loud applause follows Archil,


    Gilbert and Xandrian as they make for the next town. Towards the east.


    "Your little talk was effect, but what was all of that fake stuff about?" Xandrian asks. "Your


    start was excellent, but then you started complaining about gods being our saviours and


    our undoing. Maybe you should keep that stuff to a minimum next time."


    "Our holy war is based on nothing more than some god telling us what to do, Xandrian.


    Archil replies. "It isn''t very logical and it never will be. That does not mean, however that


    the people that would follow us do not deserve to know. It is the fake god that guides us


    and that is what I will tell them. Gilbert, did you prepare supplies for our travels? The walk


    to Southbank is short, but it pays to be prepared for the worst."


    "Yes, sir." Gilbert answers hurriedly. "I went to the market while the both of you were still


    sleeping." He lifts a big backpack into the air. "It''s all in here."


    "Good." Archil says. "Thank you, Gilbert. Now come along, it should take us no more than


    two hours to arrive in Southbank."

 (06) Fire to Ash

    "You have gone mad, Arthfael." A familiar voice says from the white emptiness. "Was us


    breaking your tower truly that much of a blow to your already horrid mental functionality.


    You let a dragon, a dragon, out onto Oliron. You don''t care for human life, do you? It is a


    miracle that it has not killed anything but Goblins yet."


    Slowly a vague picture fills Archil''s sight. A big muscular man, who Archil recognises as


    Arthfael, is pacing up and down in front of the fake god, who is sitting in an extremely


    comfortable looking chair. He is drinking a steaming liquid.


    "A miracle you say!" Says the angry voice of Arthfael. "Don''t make it sound like it was an


    accident that this dragon just so happened to meet your group of imbeciles, who somehow


    managed to chase it of into the woods. My plan was to have the dragon burn down one


    tiny village and the surrounding Goblin camps. The added bonus would have been frying


    your puny fake priest as the humans now call him. Yet somehow those humans just


    happen to find a mage capable enough to fry its nervous system! I don''t know how you do


    it, Axsel, and I don''t care, but this nonsense has to end! If it doesn''t, then it will be your


    precious humans that pay the price!"


    "You truly believe that your world that once existed down there is still yours to take, don''t


    you, Arth."


    "Arth!" Arthfael says. "How dare you abbreviate my mighty name!"


    "But Arthfael is so incredibly longwinded." Axsel says. "Now let me tell you something. Your


    reality no longer exists. It disappeared the moment the rifts overloaded with energy and


    you all got trapped up here. It is gone! You are not here for your reality, but for theirs. If you


    are too blind to see that, then you are unfit to control them at all!"


    "You destroyed my tower. I was going to let you get away with it too, but now you have


    made me angry. From you I shall take humanity and crush all control you possess over


    them and from that ally of yours I will take that precious insect and have it squashed under


    my feet!"


    "That is where you are wrong, Arth. Don''t you remember, you have no feet."


    A devilish laugh ends the dream and Archil wakes up at a table at a tavern in Southbank.


    "Good evening, Archil!" Xandrian says merrily as he takes a drink out of his pint. "Was our


    journey too much for your little city self to bare. I thought we might as well toss you


    outside, but Gilbert would not have it."


    "Since when..." Archil starts.


    "You fell asleep the moment we entered." Gilbert says, handing Archil a drink. "I was


    worried for a second, sir. The moment we stepped in you fell face first onto the floor. I had


    to ask mister Xandrien to carry you to our table."


    Archil slowly becomes aware of a bruise on his face. Little by little the pain increases as


    Archil awakens more.


    "I saw the fake god again." Archil says. "He was speaking with Arthfael. According to the


    fake god, it was Arthfael that called upon the dragon. He lured Laeth here. Arthfael even


    admitted as much. Also, Arthfael appaers to want to kill all humans to get back at the fake


    god. We must be careful, for I am sure we are high on his death list."


    "He has tried to kill you on several occasions." Xandrien says. "Gilbert told me about your


    perils. Not once has that blasted god managed to harm the two of you."


    "He did manage to kill Lyston." Archil says. "Do not forget that. Even if you would be


    unable to harm us, it would be unwise for you to drop your guard. You are not yet included


    in the Untouchability Rule."


    Xandrien turns noticeably paler.


    "Point taken." He says.


    "Let''s have a look around the village." Archil says. "It would be nice to see some friendly


    faces on the market."


    Archil finishes his drink and leads Gilbert and Xandrien outside. In the east a dark cloud


    rises. It worries Archil little and he thinks of it no more.


    The village is incredibly small. The tavern is located on the northern side on the road that


    passes the village. Behind it are a few residential buildings surrounding the market. The


    market sells little as there is no gain in selling luxury items. You can only buy fist and


    vegetables. It does seem like a lot of the stalls are empty.


    "Is the market always this desolate?" Archil asks a tall man selling fish.


    "A lot of farmers have no ware left to sell." He says. "Some of them are even dead! Those


    Goblins are eating this town bit by bit. Luckily for us we have Hansel. He is probably the


    only person here who wields a sword properly. If not for him there would be no more


    village. If you see him you should speak with him. I think you two will have a lot in


    common."


    Archil starts walking away as Gilbert approaches the man and buys some fish. Past the


    last row of houses, Archil can see a small dock with three or four ships anchored around it.


    The day is calm so there are but few waves. A gentle breeze fills the air. The breeze


    comes from the east. From the dark cloud they saw earlier. As the smell of ash fills the air,


    Archil comes to a horrifying conclusion.


    They say that the fire of a Dragon can burn even the strongest of fortresses. Even the


    book ''Creatures of Wonder'' described them as being small, but capable of burning down a


    city. A full size dragon is capable of creating a sea of hellfire that no animal or human can


    live through. Even the mystical Atricarians have their immortality ended by the flame from


    a dragon''s bowel.


    Archil now realises what they had done. An angry dragon is not easily calmed. It is bound


    to seek revenge. They had left Grimsby in the hopes of being joined by allies to fight the


    coming war. Instead they left it without hope for any of those people to draw another


    breath. Hellfire must have fallen over Grimsby. The angry Dragon must have lashed out.


    Archil runs back onto the marketplace. Everyone has gathered around a woman with a


    child in her arms. The child is little more than a charred pile of bones. The woman is


    completely covered in ash. She is crying. Burn marks cover her arms and legs and her


    clothes are burned and smouldering. Next to the woman rests a horse with a wagon


    behind it. On the horse hanging in the saddle is the burned skeleton of a man. Only his


    lower legs are still mostly intact. On them are iron plates worn by the guards of Grimsby.


    The horse seems to be charred and covered with ash, but somehow it is fairly healthy.


    The crying woman sees Archil as he enters the inner circle of the crowd. She stretches her


    arm out to him. This clearly brings her great pain and she quickly pulls it back. This again


    hurts and she is left writhing in pain.


    Archil slowly bows down too the woman. She is the same one that tried to kill Xandrian in


    the streets.


    "Was it a Dragon that brought you this fate?" Archil asks softly.


    She nods. Archil slowly rises.


    "A Dragon has burned down the town of Grimsby!" Archil says loudly. This causes the


    crowd to go into an uproar. Some flee to their houses, others protest in disbelief. Few are


    angry with the fate of Grimsby, few seek to avenge their loss.


    "We ride to kill this beast and to prevent any further damage. Those of you who want to


    follow us, meet us at sunrise in front of the tavern. Bring extra horses if you can. In order to


    protect what we hold dear and to avenge what was, lost we will triumph over the Dragon!"


    Even fewer people react to Archil''s call, but a young man with a slim sword steps forward.


    From the look in his eyes, Archil knows he will be there tomorrow.


    The morning shows the village still standing. No Dragon has swept through and burned


    everything. No great roar pierced the skies at night. The group that did show up in the


    morning was a total of three townspeople. Among them was the young man with the slim


    sword.


    After a few moments Gilbert comes running with a bunch of harpoons he got from the


    fishermen too cowardly to fight the monster.


    One of the men, the tall man from the market, has eight horses with him.


    "How does one possess eight horses in a backwater like this?" Archil asks him.


    "I don''t." The tall man states. "They were here before me. Some of the townspeople must


    have lent us these."


    "They might not be able to fight." The young man says. "But they won''t let us go without


    the proper amount of supplies."


    "You must be Hansel, correct?" Archil says.


    "Yes, that''s me." Hansel says surprised.


    "The only man in the village capable of wielding a sword to fend of the Goblin hordes."


    Archil says. He points at Hansel''s sword. "You won''t be needing that. Gilbert there is


    holding our weapons. I will not risk any of us getting within sword range. It is simple put not


    worth attempting to scratch its hide."


    "You speak as if you are familiar with Dragons." Hansel says. "How much can a nobleman


    from the city know about Dragons."


    "It is not the first time I face this beast." Archil says. "We fended it off before. I saw Goblins


    hammer its skin with their weapons and not causing a scratch. Goblin strength does


    surpass a humans. You should know this."


    "How long have you been out of the city, noble?" Hansel continues. "Days? What has the


    city done to help any of us beyond their walls. We get eaten by Goblins while you cower


    behind your walls waiting for the food we provide."


    "A corruption has taken hold of the city." Archil says. "Those gods you pray too are at war


    with the one I serve. A god that will stand for the human rights. One that does not wish for


    us to be pawns. Arthfael plays with our lives. Have you not realised this yet? The city is


    under his control. That is the reason I am here. The fake god is who I pray to and the fake


    god is the one I serve. I suggest you do the same for we are about to face a demon


    summoned by Arthfael himself."


    Hansel is left fairly confused. He has never questioned his belief in Arthfael before and yet


    this man seems confident that it was Arthfael, the god that shaped this land, that cursed


    Grimsby with their fate.


    "Do all of you understand what we fight for now. If you are still with me, then follow me. It is


    to Grimsby we travel."


    As the six men travelled to Grimsby the smell of ash and smoke intensifies. Smoke still


    rises from the ruins.


    Grimsby is no more. All that stands now is a field of blackened ash. Trenches of crusted


    ash mark the places the Dragon struck directly with his flames. The outlines of buildings


    are only shown by larger piles of ash, there where once stood walls. Charred bones,


    separated from their skeleton, are dotted around randomly. Not a single living thing can be


    observed, but for the trees in the distance. Worse than the sight was the smell. Xandrien


    explained how Dragons react two chemicals to cause the fire. The smell that lingered after


    this reaction was pure death. Archil and the others knew from the moment they smelled it


    that if one stays in its presence for too long that one will surely perish. A truly horrid sight. A


    sight that fuels the greatest of nightmares and the worst of fears. Dragon fire only brings


    death. A normal fire would fertilise the land. Dragon fire simply corrupts, defiles and


    destroys. Nothing will live here for the decades to come. A desert of ash between trees.


    Trees that will in time also fall to the corruption that Dragon fire brings.


    "We better move on, sir." Gilbert says. "Xandrien says that the broken trees to the north


    indicate the direction the Dragon left in. It is our best clue."


    "Why would a god want to cause devastation like this?" Archil asks. "How can anyone


    allow it for any living creature to suffer this horrid fate."


    "I would not know, sir." Gilbert says. "Maybe, in some other realm, it is humans that cause


    destruction like this. I am sure it is not above us."


    "It should be, Gilbert... It should be."


    "You guys coming, or would you rather choke on this god awful air?" Xandrien says,


    smiling. "Let''s go hunt ourselves a Dragon."


    "Yes." Archil mumbles. "Let''s go hunt a Dragon."


    Archil walks back to the horses and mounts his horse. The horses are incredibly nervous


    and they almost had to be dragged here. They seem to naturally want to flee from this


    smell. Archil doesn''t blame them.


    They rode for an hour before the forest became denser. After that they lost all perception


    of time. They assumed they stopped after three hours of searching the dense forests while


    they had only been searching for a mere hour. Time slows down when one is busy and


    consuming energy.


    They decide to rest for lunch. Archil walks up to the third man that joined their quest. The


    man seems fairly reserved judging from the hood pulled low over his face.


    "So..." Archil says. "What would your name be?"


    The man remains quiet. He just sits there, eating the salted fish Gilbert passed around.


    "How rude of me." Archil says. "How can I be expected to be given someones name


    without first giving my own. I am Archil of the city of Oliron."


    "I know who you are..." The man says suddenly in a deep voice. There is something odd


    about the voice, as if it were forcibly changed to sound different and yet it sounds strangely


    familiar to Archil. "The question is... do you know who I am?"


    "Seeing as you know me by name." Archil starts. "That means that you must be from the


    city, since I know barely anyone from the country."


    Archil notices a strand of brown hair flow out from underneath the mantel. Hair he knew


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.could only belong to one family from the city. Most people had a very light shade of hair


    and some people had black hair. On rare occasions and mainly in the Allard family


    someone would have red hair. The only ones Archil knew to have brown hair... were the


    Laytons.


    "Steven then?" Archil asks.


    "Correct." The man says folding back his mantel to show the face of the Layton


    representative that was seated next to Archil. "I told you not to throw your life away for


    me."


    "I didn''t." Archil admits. "Master Jardine, my father, was murdered after the vote. After that


    I met the fake god. He lead me here."


    "I see..." Steven says. "I am sorry for your loss."


    "Well, I am not." Archil says. "My father turned out to not have been dead after all. It was


    all a trick planned by Maxwell and Arthfael to seize control over Oliron. They share the


    power now no doubt. My father as their willing pawn in this eternal game of chess they


    play."


    "He is alive then?" Steven asks, confused. "But you said?"


    "It was a setup, Steven." Archil says. "A horrifically gruesome one as well. A skinless


    skeleton in the middle of his room, blood all over the walls. He is not dead, even though I


    wish he was. He betrayed not only me, but himself as well."


    "I will leave you with your meal then, Steven." Archil says. "Good seeing you again."


    Archil walks over to Hansel and takes a seat next to him. Gilbert passes him a fish and he


    begins to eat. The tall man from the market is examining the harpoons they will be using


    later today.


    "Why does a boy as young as you want to proof himself by slaying a Dragon?" Archil asks.


    "Why does a stranger from the city come to our village and concern himself with a matter


    such as this?" Hansel answers coldly.


    "Maybe said stranger feels indebted to the villages for feeding him?" Archil answers. "Or


    maybe he just likes to help? What do you think?"


    "I think you are more selfish than that." Hansel states.


    "Well done." Archil says. "You see, I feel responsible for that Dragon burning down


    Grimsby. Even though it was not me who summoned the Dragon it is still me the Dragon is


    supposed to kill."


    "So you do bring misery and despair from the city." Hansel concludes.


    "Quite the opposite in fact!" Archil says. "I bring hope to you farmer and fishers."


    "Hope?" Hansel says. "Hope? What do you mean hope. Did that valley of ash look like


    hope to you? What would you bring us hope for?"


    Hope for change, boy!" Archil says, copying the commanding tone Lyston used to use. "I


    bring hope for a world were a boy of your age is not defending a village from hordes of


    Goblins out to eat every living thing! I bring with me a change of believe so drastic that it


    will shatter the foundations of our government and have it be born anew. Where man rules


    out of freedom. That is the world I dream of, Hansel. One you can help me build. So let me


    asks again; why does a boy like you wish to fight a Dragon?"


    "Fine then." Hansel says, reluctantly. "Since you insist. My parents were eaten around a


    year ago, when the village was first invaded by Goblins. Many townsfolk died that day, but


    some managed to lock themselves up indoors and waited for the raid to pass. At sundown


    they attacked. At sunrise they left. My father was busy with repairs on the roof. When the


    Goblins struck he was stuck up there until a unlucky hit with a stone knocked him off. I


    could hear his screaming as my neighbour was blocking the door, yelling at me not to


    listen. When I saw my father in the morning I was horrified. His chest was ripped open and


    his innards were eaten. What they did to my mother was far worse. She was helping the


    market close at the time. We never did find her remains in between all the bits and pieces


    of the other villagers. Most kids survived, but few adults were spared. I was broken and


    lost, until one day an old man passed through town. He saw the empty look in my face. He


    asked me if I wanted to learn how to protect not only myself, but also those around me. He


    gave my life new meaning. He said that I should help and deal with any threat to the


    village as it came along. Now I am here. That enough story for you?"


    Archil, who had been obsessed with his way too salty fish, turned his attention back to


    Hansel.


    "Yes and I''m sorry for your loss." He said. "Thank you for sharing that with me. I


    like to know why those who follow me fight. Did that old my have a torn cape


    that flowed in the wind by any chance?"


    "No." Hansel said. "He did however have a humming noise follow him everywhere he


    went. People called him cursed, but he didn''t look cursed to me. Just old."


    Archil is stunned. Lyston came to Southbank before and thought this boy how to fight?


    "Interesting." Archil finally says. "I also knew a man who continuously hummed..." Archil


    gets up. "See you in a minute, Hansel."


    The tall man is still stood next to the harpoons. He seems concerned. Archil doesn''t blame


    him. Killing a Dragon with those does seem unlikely. The only reason Archil would even


    think of it is because it was Archil himself who is the cause for the Dragon. On top of that,


    the only reason Axsel would show Archil the vision from earlier would be to notify him of


    Arthfael''s involvement. This lead Archil to the conclusion that he is tasked to kill the


    Dragon.


    "Good afternoon." Archil says walking over to the tall man. "How are they looking?"


    "Rusty, splintering, I don''t know how we plan to fight it with these weapons." The tall man


    says. "It just seems hopeless."


    "Then why did you join us?" Archil asks.


    "I have a feeling that you are no ordinary man." The tall man says. "The way you talk about


    gods and all. I figured you would need someone to go tell the people how the mighty beast


    was slain. My name is Nicolas, Nicolas Warde."


    "I''m Archil Jardine." Archil says. "I must say, I did not expect you to have a last name."


    "My family used to live in the city." Nicolas says. "We decided to leave for some reason at


    one point. The last few of our generations have been simple tradesmen."


    "Can you write?" Archil asks. "We surely could use someone to document our adventures


    and such."


    "Yes, I can." Nicolas says. "It is a most useful skill in the business of trading."


    Suddenly Xandrien walks up to Archil.


    "We are leaving." He says. "The Dragon must be near."


    "Well, mister Warde, it has been a pleasure." Archil says.


    "Likewise." Nicolas answers.


    They climb back onto their horses and prepare to leave.


    "The trees are too thick up ahead, sir." Gilbert says, walking out of the bushes. "We can''t


    take the horses much further. It would be best to leave them here."


    "No, Gilbert, after we fight the Dragon it is important to have the horses nearby." Archil


    says. "We ride until we can go no further."


    "Yes, sir." Gilbert says.


    Not long after they leave their resting stop they already hit a near solid wall of bark. They


    are almost at the heart of the forest.


    "Can the Dragon truly have gone here?" Hansel asks. "These trees would not leave


    enough room right?"


    "Don''t you smell that, Hansel?" Xandrien asks. "That smells like pure death to me. We are


    going the right way."


    The smell from Grimsby was returning now, but shaper and more aggressive. They decide


    to leave the horses and walk into the enclosed part of the forest. It is not long before they


    walk into a rotten desolate clearing. In the middle lies the Dragon, sleeping. Smashed


    trees are dotted around the clearing, but most trees have simply collapsed under their own


    weight after the poison from the Dragon reached them. An occasional burst of fire erupts


    out of the Dragons mouth. Its bright red scales glisten and glow as the fire lights them. The


    sun reflects brilliantly off of its hide. A blood red hue shines on the clearing adding to the


    nightmarish effect. If this matter is not resolved before sundown they would surely lose.


    Archil knows this and is quickly proceeding. They have about ten minutes before the sun


    would sink below the trees another five before complete darkness arrives.


    "We have around ten minutes before we loose the light." Archil says. "We are best off if we


    make this quick!"


    They rush over to the dragon, while trying to avoid to run over small pieces of wood and


    other noisy objects. Nicolas stays near the trees so he might report on their result. They


    manage to somehow cross the clearing with the Dragon still noisily asleep. Hansel and


    Steven rush over to just below the Dragons head. Archil, Gilbert and Xandrien gather at its


    stomach. Everyone has his own harpoon to try and wound or even kill the Dragon.


    "We must be careful now." Archil whispers. "One wrong move and we are all dead."


    He waves and Hansel who waves back and gets ready to launch his harpoon into the


    beast''s neck together with Steven. Archil and Gilbert do the same. Xandrien has his own


    harpoon ready to stab at the heart.


    Hansel drives his harpoon straight onto the scales of the Dragon. A loud crack follow the


    breaking of the harpoon. Archil and Gilbert launch theirs as well, but the Dragon is already


    in full motion. In one move he arches back his head and swings it forward, completely


    devouring Hansel. Next it flaps its wings knocking everyone down.


    Gilbert quickly gets back on his feet. He instantly grabs Archil and tosses both of them to


    the side as one of the Dragons feet land where they were standing. A huge tail passes


    overhead barely missing both men. Xandrien lies dizzy on a stump of some rotten tree,


    knocked back by the gust of wind. Steven is in front of the Dragon now. He throws his


    harpoon right at it, but it simply breaks.


    "You think you can blemish my scales!" Laeth roars. "Die, humans!"


    Laeth opens its mouth wide and spews a colourless liquid straight into Steven''s face. He


    instantly collapses rolling over the ground in agony. His eyes red and bloodshot.


    "Breath your last breath, human." Laeth says. It opens its mouth a second time. This time


    a yellowish liquid pours onto Steven. Before it hits him, Archil launches an attack driving


    his harpoon into Laeth''s stomach. The effect is the same as all the rest. Steven is now hit


    by the yellow liquid. Upon contact with the colourless substance it catches fire. Steven is


    screaming. His flesh is slowly melting and falling of of his face.


    "A nightmare of realism opens before you, human." Laeth says.


    Suddenly Steven explodes into a great ball of fire, just as his screaming begins to die


    down. Steven is no more.


    Archil still near Laeth after his attempted assault is moving back towards Gilbert. There is


    just no hope in beating this thing. Every attack simply bounces off.


    His thoughts are interrupted by Laeth hitting him full in the chest with its tail. Archil flies


    across the field into a tree to the east of the field. Nicolas is still stood at the south.


    Gilbert is making his way towards Archil yelling something inaudibly. Laeth still thrashes


    around behind him, still looking for humans to crush. None of this matters to Archil though.


    The world is just a haze combined with muffled sounds and flashing lights. Nothing makes


    sense anymore. Nothing matters anymore. Their is just the pain. A pain that filled his entire


    back. A pain that would not leave his dazed mind alone.


    Vision slowly returns to Archil. The pain still remains, but at least Archil can now see.


    Gilbert is almost here, but Laeth is chasing him. Both of them would die here on this


    desolate field.


    "I''m... sorry... Gilbert." Archil says slowly. "All... m... my fault."


    "Don''t talk." Gilbert says. "Everything will be just fine!"


    Archil looks Gilbert in the eyes and what he sees there is utter believe and trust. Trust in


    their chances of survival. Laeth now looms over the both of them.


    "Ready to die, humans?" Laeth says.


    "Don''t... know." Archil says to Laeth. "Are you?"


    Laeth laughs loudly, causing the ground to shake.


    "Die? Me?" He yells. "You are the one that is beaten, human!"


    Xandrien slowly climbs to his feet. Something important. There is something important he


    is missing. He can''t quite think of it until a great laughter fills the air and does the ground


    shake. The Dragon... How could he forget the Dragon. He grabs his harpoon from the


    ground. The Dragon is stood over both Gilbert and Archil. Archil seems to be heavily


    wounded and speaking with the Dragon while Gilbert tends to his wounds. They won''t last


    much longer, Xandrien realises.


    Laeth lowers his head, ready to finish both men with a single bite.


    "Hey!" Xandrien screams. "You big fat worthless amphibian!"


    Laeth instantly turns around already moving towards the source of the insult.


    "What did you call..." Laeth screams.


    In one move Xandrien launches his harpoon through the air pouring all the magic he could


    bare into its speed. It blasted off at the Dragon a loud explosion noise occurs and lightning


    arcs from Xandrien into the harpoon which flies through Laeth''s eye straight into the back


    of its skull. A loud roar follows as Laeth writhes and eventually falls down. A cloud of


    corrupted dust fills the air.


    Xandrien rushes over to Archil and Gilbert.


    "He has passed out!" Gilbert yells. "We need to get him back to Southbank. Fast!"

 (07) Passing

    Archil is in a room. The room has two mirrors to either side of him. Looking to both sides


    allows him to see dozens upon dozens of copies of himself, but these aren''t mirrors. For


    when Archil looks right so do all the images.


    "What is this place?" Archil wonders.


    Archil walks over to one of the walls. As he reaches out to it the room shatters and Archil


    falls into eternal abyss. He isn''t sure if he is screaming or not, because he can hear


    nothing else than the air roaring around him. After what seemed like an eternity, Archil hit


    the pitch black bottom, hard. He slams into it and a jolt of pain arches through his body.


    His ribs feel broken and shattered. It feels like something sharp is sticking into his back.


    Yet somehow Archil lives. Stranger still, the pain soon fades as if the wounds were never


    there to begin with.


    A light appears in the darkness. It slowly creeps up to Archil. As it gets closer the bottom of


    the abyss is revealed to be a simple flat plain. Upon contact with the light the plain itself


    starts to glow.


    After a moment a voice echoes through the chasm. A voice all too familiar to Archil.


    "Welcome Archil!" The fake god says. "How are your wounds?"


    "It would seem they healed completely, Axsel." Archil says. "What brings you here?"


    The fake god frowns.


    "The real question is, Archil, why are you here." He says. "This is my world after all, not


    yours."


    "Then I assume you summoned me?" Archil asks. "I do not see any other reason for me to


    be on your side."


    "In a way I did bring you here, Archil." Axsel says. "However this isn''t like before, where I


    guided your soul to a state where you can watch from your side. This time I made you


    cross the line as if you were a medium. We gods, you see, can guide souls ''close'' to us in


    specific directions, including bringing them into our realm. That is how Lycon became a


    god after all. For souls to be ''close'' to us though, we need them to believe that we are with


    the same cause."


    "So what is the difference now?" Archil asks. "Do you need something from me?"


    "No, Archil, quite the opposite in fact." Axsel says. "But more of that later. Now you must


    follow me. There is a rather interesting journey ahead of you. A journey which I will not


    follow you on. Follow me!"


    They walk up to a deep dark hole in the plain.


    "You will go down here and see for yourself what lies ahead." The fake god continues.


    "After that we say goodbye."


    Just before Archil reacts the fake god turns and grabs him by the neck and pushes him.


    Archil is tossed into the void.


    "Good luck, my friend!" Axsel yells after him.


    Archil is falling. Unsure of the time that has progressed he has even lost the sense of


    falling. No wind blows in his face. It is almost as if he were motionless. As Archil reaches


    about him however, he can still feel no solid surface anywhere. Before long he falls asleep.


    A great, radiant city looms over Archil. A marble city in the snow. As Archil wonders over


    the dozens of spires he notices something unsettling. The eery silence is off-putting


    somehow. Soon Archil notices the smoke rising from within the city. The corpse of a


    strange creature leans agains the wall of the city. It looks up at the sun. It greatly


    resembles a human, but it has pupils shaped like lines and its skeleton covers the outside


    of its skin. The skin itself is of a dark purple colour. On its breastbone rests a great radiant


    jewel.


    Just as Archil walks forward to more closely examine the Atracarian, the world fades.


    Archil raises his sword to deflect the blow of the axe of a peasant wearing nothing but


    cloth. He deflects the axe left and hacks a big cut into the man''s shoulder. He falls to the


    ground screaming in pain. Archil is standing on a wall, but too familiar to Archil. It is the


    wall at the bridge in the city of Oliron. Behind him the city is ablaze. In front dozens of men


    are streaming across the wall. They run past Archil into the city.


    A great hall suddenly appears around Archil. Torches light the far apart walls. Small


    intelligent looking men seem to be having a discussion. Pentilians maybe? Archil can''t


    know for sure, because all he knows of Pentilians is that they are small and that they live


    on the mainland. The latter can''t be certain.


    He is back in the marble city. He now stands on the great tower. The one that rises high


    above the others.


    "Interesting to meet a human in such a fashion." A deep voice says from behind Archil.


    Archil turns around. Before him stands a tall Atracarian. Unlike the dead one from earlier


    this one radiates energy. "Warped through time. You are a most interesting fellow."


    The door behind the Atracarian shakes wildly. Someone or something yells from the other


    side of the door. "Again!"


    "Unwanted visitors it seems." The Atracarian says. "My name is Uterion by the way. Good


    to meet you, riftwalker."


    "Archil." Archil says. "The name is Archil. What is happening here?"


    "You are seeing what is most likely to be." Uterion says. "I would tell you more, but I fear I


    know no more."


    Archil''s vision breaks and shatters. He is suddenly standing in the large hall again. It is


    different now. There is no discussion and the torches are dim. A crack appears in the


    ceiling. Large rocks rain down and smash the floor. The walls start to crumble and all the


    patterns lose their shape. Before long everything around Archil is covered in rocks. As one


    lands on his head causing him to fall.


    As he gets back up he notices he is back in Oliron. He is stood on the buildings behind the


    wall. As he looks to the south along the bridge he notices the horrific truth displayed there.


    Rows upon rows of corpses litter the bridge. City guards are cleaning their armour and


    weapons. They do not seem to celebrate their victory. They merely look sad.


    A loud noise suddenly fills the air. A horde of Goblins rushes onto the bridge, consuming


    corpses as they go. The guards get their weapons ready, but to late. Too many Goblins hit


    their lines and dozens of men are killed. Before long their lines are broken. The Goblins


    are climbing the walls now. Archers desperately try to hold them of by shooting them as


    they climb, but it is in vain. Before long they too die. Only moments later they are climbing


    the building Archil is stood on. Archil swiftly kills two of them with his sword, but ten more


    arrive and Archil loses his footing. He falls to the ground which is now crawling with


    Goblins.


    Archil closes his eyes expecting to hit the ground hard, followed by him being ripped to


    shreds. The ground never came. Archil seems to still be falling, even though he should


    have hit the ground moments ago. He opens his eyes and to his amazement he sees the


    marble city around him. A few meters to his right is the Atracarian, also falling.


    "Goodbye then, walker." He says. "Good luck with the journey."


    They both slam into the ground. Archil mysteriously lives, but Uterion is instantly turned


    into a red pile of goo. Archil''s eyes lose focus and he faints.


    He wakes up in Oliron. It is more desolate now. No Goblins, no guards, no corpses. Just


    battered buildings and the eery silence. Soon Archil realises he is stood where the spire


    was once placed. Realising nothing will happen if he doesn''t move, Archil heads to the


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.south in order to find the bridge. It only takes a few minutes to get there, which is strange


    since the island is bigger than that. As Archil looks across the bridge he sees nothing but a


    desolate empty field. No forests, no grass, no plants. The island is empty as far as the eye


    can see. All that remains is a type of black soil.


    Suddenly Archil notices movement. Phantom images fly by him and before long the city of


    Oliron is alive and well again. The peace only lasts a moment. Egg-like structures start


    raining from the sky crushing buildings and destroying streets. The eggs then break open


    and out comes a horrifically big insect. It is green of colour, has six legs and its front legs


    appear to be massive razor blades. The cut down everything in their path, consuming it as


    the go. Before long the screaming in the city stops and is replaced by an empty silence, all


    humans devoured by the beasts. The creature head out across the bridge and start eating


    the forests. Once again all that remains is Archil. Archil falls to his knees. The horror he


    just saw hitting home. That was worse than Goblins. Nothing could save man from a


    creature like that. Not now and probably not ever.


    As Archil prepares to get up the ground underneath him drops and he falls into a large


    ocean. Behind him lies a port. In front of him sail four sturdy looking ships two smaller


    ships leave the port to intercept them, but the bigger ships simple ram them instantly


    causing them to sink. Short men jump over the sides.. The ships beach themselves and


    dozens of men armed to the teeth run towards the port.


    Archil is dripping water on a wooden floor. He looks around himself and notices Axsel next


    to a fireplace, sitting in an extremely comfortable chair. Next to him a similar chair is stood.


    "Please Archil, sit!" Axsel says. "We have talking to do. Do you want some tea?"


    "Some what?" Archil asks as he takes seat. The chairs seem to be made in such a way


    that no matter who takes a sear in it it will always be perfect. Archil needs to pay close


    attention as of to not doze of into sleep.


    "Tea, Archil!" Axsel says. "Have some. I can almost guarantee you will like it." He hand


    Archil a small cup filled with a steaming liquid. "I am surprised humans forgot how to make


    this stuff. You humans invented it after all. I guise you simply can''t grow the herbs on Oliron. Do you


    like it?"


    Archil is surprised to find that as he takes a sip from the glass the liquid poured lacks both


    temperature and taste.


    "It is a true shame that I can''t simulate taste." Axsel says. "It is not quite like the real thing, is


    it?"


    "Can you explain the insects to me please?" Archil asks, putting down his cup. "Why did


    they show up and eat everything?"


    "Insects?" Axsel says. Suddenly his eyes widen. "That is not good. For now I want you to


    tell me everything. I have not seen what you saw, you see?"


    Archil quickly tells Axsel a summary of what happened.


    "Most interesting indeed." Axsel says. "This is most usefull information Archil. Thank you."


    "So what is next." Archil asks. "Do I go back now?"


    The fake god gets a faint look on his face. "What do you think about being immortal


    Archil?" Axsel asks. "Would you like to be a god?"


    "A god?" Archil asks surprised. "What do you mean?"


    "Purely hypothetical." Axsel says. "Would you like to ascend to godhood?"


    "I might very well chose that option if it were coming my way." Archil says. "Why do you


    ask this of me?"


    "You might not quite survive a Dragon''s tail, Archil." Axsel says. "You may be my priest, but


    you are by no means invincible. That is reserved for gods alone. Even Atracarians have a


    weakness. They are weak to the loss of blood."


    "Are you saying that..." Archil begins.


    "Yes, you are at deaths'' door, my friend." Axsel says. "You have served me well and I


    thank you for it. This is were we part ways. Our last meeting so to speak."


    "But you can save me right?" Archil says. "You can make me immortal or something,


    anything!"


    "I will not." Axel says. "It is not right for me to do so. Bestowing that fate on you is


    something I will not do, even if it is to save your life. It would not be fair to you."


    "How is dying fair?" Archil yells.


    "How is living eternally fair?" Axsel says. "Do you know how long eternity actually is? Do


    you even have the slightest idea? It exceeds ''a long time'' a thousands times over and


    even then eternity is a long time away. I will not terrorise you in this manner."


    "I insist you reconsider!" Archil says. "Living must be better than ending."


    "It does seem so the first few hundred years." Axsel admits. "Then you start seeing the


    repeat in history. Before long you lose all interest in the world. After that what is left for you


    to do than create new situations to ease your boredom. Before long you have turned into


    that which we are fighting now."


    "And what makes you so special?" Archil asks. "What keeps you from the boredom?"


    "I am an exception among gods, Archil." Axsel says. "Unlike any of them I know how to


    manifest a physical body using interriftal energy. I use it to move among you freely. You too


    have this power, but you are no mage. You cannot manifest it. A shame really."


    "So you will just sit there and watch me die?" Archil asks.


    "Yes, yes I will." Axsel says.


    That moment Archil feels himself slip away. That which anchored him is no more. Slowly


    his thoughts fade. His form slips away into the abyss. Nothing follows.


    "Now then." Axsel says rubbing his hands.. "To resolve the matter of the insects..."


    Archil''s coffin is simple. Just a rectangular wooden crate. Two more are present for the


    burying of Hansel and Steven. The three of the are being buried on one of the hills near


    Southbank. A trio of heroes they call them. The dead always achieve more credit than the


    living. The burial is accompanied by most of the townsfolk. They too mourn their dead.


    The person that is most devastated though is Gilbert. He has gone silent since his master


    passed away last night. Xandrian seems only mildly phased by Archil''s dead. A reminder of


    their mortality.


    Xandrian learned something from the encounter with the Dragon though. The backlash he


    emits when he casts a spell is access energy that is unused. So if he wills it to fill a certain


    purpose, the backlash would not be as bad.


    That night, during Gilbert''s short night''s rest, he has a dream much unlike a dream. He


    stands on a wooden floor. Two chairs and a fireplace are placed in front of him.


    "Good morning, Gilbert." Axsel says. "Please take a seat."


    "Why?" Gilbert says. "Why did he have to die?"


    "For the cause, Gilbert." Axsel says. "Our cause caused his death."


    "Then why should I follow it?" Gilbert says. "Why should I follow that which killed my


    master?"


    "Will his death be in vain then?" Axsel says. "Will you not proceed to finish what he


    started? Would you rather stay in that solitary town and rot away, while your master


    wasted his life? Continue fighting, Gilbert. Honer Archil and fight for what he believed in."


    "No." Gilbert says. "This is ridiculous! There is no way for us to accomplish anything with


    this godforsaken quest. I don''t want any part of this! Where is the exit?"

 (08) War of Sorts

    Kelna, a big town a day or two west from Southbank. It is big enough to maintain and man


    a wall of its own. Gilbert and Xandrien enter the town on the north side. A group of people is


    complaining with the guards. Something about a food shortage. A few streets further


    Xandrien begins talking.


    "If you insist on defying the fake god, then why are we here?" He asks. "Why did you have


    us leave Southbank, Gilbert?"


    "Do you really think I wish to stay in the town that caused Archil''s death?" Gilbert says. "I


    can''t go back to Oliron and Grimsby is burned to ash. What place do I have left to go but


    here?"


    "The countryside." Xandrien says. "You could always start an existence as a farmer. It is


    simple and away from everything."


    "Do big towns make your nervous, Xandrien?" Gilbert says smiling.


    "Yes!" Xandrien says. "It seems big towns tend to burn better than smaller ones."


    "You should be the least scared of that." Gilbert says. "You killed the Dragon after all."


    "That Dragon burned my home, Gilbert." Xandrien says. "By all means do not forget that."


    "Sir?" A man walking past suddenly says. "I''m sorry sir, but are you mister Gilbert by any


    chance? I have an urgent message for you."


    "Who are you?" Gilbert looking at the man, confused. The man wears a black hood


    covering his face. He is slightly bend forward.


    "Just a messenger, sir." The man says. "I was told to send you to that building at the end of


    the street. They told me it is imperative you go there."


    "Gilbert, follow me." Xandrien says. He walks towards the man, before rushing forward and


    bumping in to him. The man stumbles and loses his focus. Gilbert and Xandrien disappear


    into the crowd.


    "What was that all about?" Gilbert asks.


    "Use that brain of yours!" Xandrien says. "Nothing good can come of entering that building.


    If it is people willing to join us you could care less. If it is a trap we are both in trouble. If


    you intend to go there, then by all means go, but don''t take me down along with you!"


    They continue along the main streets for a while before they find a tavern. It is surprisingly


    empty for a tavern along the main road and all the candles are almost burned out, but it is


    still a good place to rest. They take a table and order bread and beer.


    They never finish that meal, because as soon as they are about halfway the door is


    slammed open and an armed group of guards storm in. Five men part of the local garrison.


    "Gilbert of Oliron, you are under arrest for the murder of council member Maxwell." The


    captain says. "We are to execute you here and now!"


    Xandrien rushes up, but he is hit on the head with the side of a spear.


    "Stay out of this peasant!" The captain says. "Restrain him."


    Gilbert is grabbed by the arm and hoist out of his chair. One of the guards grabs a stool


    and places it in the middle of the room. Gilbert neck is placed on the stool.


    "Gilbert Noname, you are hereby executed for treason and murder!" The captain yells


    pulling out his sword.


    In the corner of the tavern a man gets up and walks out through the door. The man wears


    a torn cloak that flows in the wind. He closes the door as he leaves. As it shuts, the rooms


    goes dark as the candles are all extinguished simultaneously.


    "Why in the world?" The captain yells.


    Gilbert act quickly. In the moment of distraction he pulls out on of the lock picks still in his


    pocket and he thrusts it at the place he saw the captains leg earlier. A yell of pain confirms


    the it. The lock pick went deep into the underside of the captain''s knee, utterly destroying


    it. The captain would not walk again.


    Xandrien hits the guard restraining him in the chest with all his strength. A bolt of lightning


    lights the room as his fist connects. Xandrien then kicks the guard to his other side.


    Another bolt of lightning lights the room.


    Gilbert has taken cover next to the bar. The remaining two guards curse as they stumble


    into things and fall over. Moments later someone opens the door. Right in front of Gilbert


    lies one of the guards. Gilbert rolls away from him and grabs the stool. He guard tries to


    defend himself, but there was nothing he could do. Gilbert hits him again and again as the


    guards head is slowly turned to mush.


    Xandrien walks over to the last guards who is battle ready with his spear and shield raised.


    As Xandrien approaches him be picks up the captain''s sword. The guard lunges at


    Xandrien attempting to skewer him on his spear. Xandrien steps to the left, dodging the


    spear. The guard raises his shield to deflect Xandrien''s sword, but it shatters under the


    force of the sword. The sword shatters into a million pieces showering the guard in metal


    shards. Both the man''s eyes are damaged. He sits there screaming in agony as Xandrien


    delivers the finishing blow by hitting the man in the head. With a loud noise the neck


    snaps.


    "Gilbert!" Xandrien says. "We are leaving, right now!"


    Gilbert is still sitting on top of the headless guard.


    "I killed him..." He says.


    "And for that you shall pay." The captain says slowly crawling towards Gilbert. Xandrien


    kicks him in the head and he stops moving.


    "Snap out of it, Gilbert!" Xandrien says. "He tried to kill you and you defended yourself.


    Now get up and let''s go!"


    Xandrien drags Gilbert to his feet. He turns around only to find that in the doorway stands


    a terrified woman frozen in fear. Xandrien drags Gilbert past her onto the streets.


    "We are leaving town, Gilbert." Xandrien says. "It is our best chance."


    "Yeah..." Gilbert says dreamily.


    "Snap out of it!" Xandrien yells. "Archil would be ashamed of you. Now get running!"


    The west gates of Kelna are nearby. Just a few streets back. They should be able to arrive


    there in a few minutes. As they see the gate appear in the distance, they see it is shut.


    They approach the gate, but soon they are stopped by one of the guards.


    "Halt!" He says. "A dangerous..."


    He stops in the middle of his sentence as he realises who is in front of him.


    "Alarm!" He yells.


    This cry is soon repeated by one of the guards on the wall. As the sun slowly fades below


    the wall the situations turns grim. The guard that stopped Gilbert seems confused now.


    "What do you mean alarm?" He says. "Why would you..."


    "Goblins in the tree line!" He yells. "We need to man the walls. There are thousands of


    them. We don''t have the men to hold this!"


    "Listen!" Xandrien says. "Whatever you think he did wrong, you are going to need us up


    there! There is only one chance now."


    "May Arthfael save us all..." One of the guards on the wall says.


    "Arthfael won''t help us here!" Xandrien yells. "Only we can save ourselves. Everyone get


    ready. As soon as the light fades, the fight begins."


    Gilbert and Xandrien follow the guards onto the wall. Rows upon rows of Goblins decorate


    the tree line. Iron and steel weapons glistening in the fading sunlight. Darkness envelopes


    the field outside of the wall. All that remains is the light of torches on the wall. The men


    look afraid. They were not prepared for a fight like this. For Goblins to attack a walled town


    like Kelna...


    "Today may not be our brightest hour, men!" An older man shouts. "But today shall be one


    of our finest. These beasts think they can tear down these walls that have stood for


    generations? I think that we better show them how humans handle animals. Let''s send


    them back to there holes! Prepare yourselves!"


    The Goblins enter the light of the torches. Their improvised armour gleaming in the light.


    The move incredibly fast and as they reach the walls they start to climb them at suprising


    speeds.


    "We are all gonna die!" A guard yells.


    "Back in line, soldier!" The commander yells. "We are everything between them and our


    loved ones. Stand firm!"


    The first Goblins reach the top of the wall. Most of them are empaled by the spears of the


    guards, but some manage to get through. One jumps onto the head of the guard next to


    Gilbert and starts to chew his face off. The guards drops his spear and shield as he falls


    down, screaming. Gilbert picks both the shield and the spear up and skewers the Goblin


    somewhere in the middle of its body. The Goblin makes a shocking motion before going


    limp. Its corpse lies on top of the dead guard.


    Xandrien is slaying one Goblin after another with the sword he kept. He doesn''t even need


    to use magic as the Goblins are little more than sacks of meat. The main issue Xandrien is


    facing is the sheer amount that keeps leaping across the wall.


    A guard further on grabs a torch and shoves it into the face a Goblin its flaming body falls


    down, screaming. The fire causes a small chain reaction as more Goblins catch fire. The


    light caused by these flames reveal a true sight of nightmares. A massive Goblin almost as


    tall as the wall is stumbling his way forward. It has no distinguishable face nor limbs and it


    seems to be rolling forward.


    Slowly more and more guards fall as the Goblin hordes keep up their relentless assault.


    The big Goblin reaches the wall and starts rolling into it. The wall slowly gives way. Gilbert


    see this and only sees one solution.


    "Xandrien!" Gilbert yells through the turmoil. "Work your magic!"


    Gilbert runs towards the blob dodging past Goblins and guards. He grabs a torch on his


    way. It takes some work, but Gilbert manages to set his spear ablaze whilst running. He


    leaps forward and jams the spear deep into the fat of the big Goblin. Xandrien sees this


    and he enhances the flames. The Goblin explodes into a wall of fire and heat. Most


    Goblins that were anywhere near the big Goblin also catch fire. Gilbert is flung of the wall


    into a group of burning Goblins.


    This gives Xandrien an idea. He Grabs a torch and climbs onto the wall. He throws it over


    the edge above the hordes of Goblins. Lightning crackles around Xandrien as he


    concentrates on the torch.


    "Enough!" He yells, his voice resonation across the field. A big explosion follows this


    statement. For a moment the field is as bright as day. Goblins everywhere catch fire and


    retreat. As the light fades the Goblins can still be seen clearly. But few escape the wrath of


    Xandrien. Most simply burn. Lightning strikes the tree line and trees start to explode


    around the Goblins. Xandrien faints and falls of the wall. Gilbert catches him.


    "Well done!" He says. "You save us all."


    Xandrien wakes up in a bed.


    "Welcome back to the world of Goblins, Dragons and no gods." Gilbert says. Gilbert is


    mostly covered in bandages. "So, how was your trip to dreamland."


    "Devoid of anything." Xandrien says. "Gilbert, how did you survive the Goblins?"


    "The chaos that followed the explosion saved me." Gilbert explains. "It did cause some


    nasty burns though."


    "You make up up your mind yet?" Xandrien says laughing.


    "What could you possibly be talking about?" Gilbert asks confused.


    "These people truly believe Arthfael would save them." Xandrien says. "Please don''t tell


    me you are still angry at Axsel."


    "Well..." Gilbert says slowly.


    "Gilbert, these people need someone to guide them to a better world." Xandrien says. "It


    won''t be me. Axsel chose you. Follow Archil and save us all from this hell."


    "I must say I do agree." Gilbert says. "I can''t guarantee people will listen to me though."


    "Who cares, Gilbert." Xandrien says. "As long as you try it is at least worth something."


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Xandrien tries to get up, but he immediately falls down again.


    "I feel sore all over." He says laughing. "That last move really did a number on my body."


    "So how is it that we don''t always win with you around?" Gilbert says. "I mean, that was an


    amazing trick you pulled back there. Creating enough heat to fry all of them. I honestly did


    not think you could do that."


    "I didn''t think I would." Xandrien says. "Magic takes an enormous toll on my body you see.


    With the amount I used yesterday, I don''t know if I will walk again any time soon."


    "Yesterday?" Gilbert says. "That was three days ago, Xandrien. The apothecaries thought


    you fried your own brains out."


    A older man with white hair walks into the room with a crutch. Where his left leg should be


    is only a bandaged stump.


    "We have been pardoned for, you know, saving the town." Gilbert says.


    "It was good you showed up when you did." The old man says. "I am Joshua Fenwick,


    commander of the watch. You save my life and those of my men that night. Although my


    leg is lost, but I might have found myself an invaluable ally in you. I thank you, Xandrien


    and Gilbert. I have taken the liberty of giving the two of you a last name. You are now both


    part of the house Dragonheart. Rumours have started to surface, so I thought the name


    fitting."


    "A last name..." Xandrien mumbles. "Interesting."


    Xandrien drifts back to sleep.


    "So what was the deal with that Maxwell character?" Fenwick asks. "Why would you kill a


    council member?"


    "That is a long story." Gilbert says. "One I intend to spread around town. Could you spread


    this story for me."


    Gilbert tells Fenwick all about their misadventures in the city of Oliron. The assassination


    of Master Jardine, the elimination of the Laytons, the secret room in the library, the killing


    of Maxwell and finally the execution of Lyston.


    "We mean to stage a revolution." Gilbert says. "We want to remove Arthfael from power


    and take back the world that belongs to man. We need people willing and able to help. It


    would be great if you could help us recruit people, Joshua."


    "These people owe you and your friend their lives." Fenwick says. "I am sure a good


    amount of them would be willing to die for your cause."


    "One more thing." Gilbert says. "After thinking for a while I figured that I could help you set


    a trap for the next group of Goblins. I have a feeling, they will return soon."


    "Let''s hear it then!" Fenwick says. "I am open for suggestion. Minimising loses would be


    ideal indeed."


    You need to dig a ditch in front of the wall the Goblins attacked." Gilbert says. "Fill that with


    logs and sticks. That way the Goblins either get trapped or, if they still climb the wall, you


    can light it all on fire. I imagine you can accomplish this by tossing down burning Goblins."


    "I was planning to assemble a group of warriors to march on the Goblin camp to stomp the


    back into the dirt,Gilbert." Fenwick says. "There is no need for us to worry about the


    Goblins for much longer."


    "Don''t!" Gilbert says. "I have seen the Goblin camps. There are thousands upon thousands


    of them. No matter how many men you bring, you will all die the moment you enter the


    fields after dark. To engage those hordes in open combat is suicide!"


    "Our food supplies are dwindling, Gilbert." Fenwick says. "Farmers refuse to man the


    fields."


    "Have them man the fields during the day and stay in the town at night." Gilbert suggests.


    "If you have to, you can always move the farms closer."


    "Fine!" Fenwick says, disappointed. I was hoping to show these Goblins so human


    valour... I can''t be helped I suppose."


    "Congratulations, Gilbert!" Axsel says, sitting in his ultimately comfortable chair. "It would


    appear that your success on the wall the other day is saving all of you."


    "What do you want, Axsel..." Gilbert says. "I am too burned to even think about speaking to


    you."


    "Is it not acceptable for a friend to congratulate his friends on their success." Axsel says.


    "Can I not simply be kind to the ones that execute my plans."


    "And yet there is a catch to this entire talk, isn''t there." Gilbert says. "Why am I here,


    Axsel?"


    "..." Axsel doesn''t say. "Why do you have to be so serious, Gilbert? This is probably the


    only place where you don''t have to worry about getting stabbed in unfortunate places. To


    business then. You are here, on this lovely day, to commune with me..."


    "Axsel!" Gilbert says. "I want to understand what you tell me, so please, by all means,


    speak plain human!"


    "Alright then..." Axsel says. "I want to tell you your next goal... You see now! That sounded


    way to dull! The impact lies within the theatrics, Gilbert."


    "What is my next goal?" Gilbert says.


    "Someone please return Archil." Axsel says. "He at least listened to me."


    "Fake!" Gilbert yells.


    The fake god sighs.


    "He wants you to move north and convert more towns." I says. "This conversation is


    becoming a pain to archive. Could you two please finish up!"


    "Come on, Lycon!" Axsel says. "Why would you say what I would say. No matter. Did you


    get that, Gilbert? Yes? No? Maybe? Good enough! See you some other time!"


    Axsel cabin fades out of view. Gilbert can think of nothing more than the weirdness of it all.


    "So, Fenwick, would you allow me to help you fortify the wall?" Gilbert asks. "A companion


    of ours had some ideas that may be useful to your men. Master Archil drew these before


    he... before he met his untimely demise. He had great interest in helping the people


    outside of the city of Oliron."


    "Let''s see it then." Fenwick says.


    "Not all of these are possible, or even probable, but there are a few good ones among


    them." Gilbert says while laying the scrolls on a table. "This one is probably beyond


    anything you can prepare."


    Gilbert points at a drawing of a pit full of oil.


    "This is one that will be useful." Gilbert says, pointing at a drawing of spikes pointing


    forward. "The Goblins are stupid enough to jump into sunlight. I assume that they will try to


    climb the trap, or even push each other into it."


    Another drawing shows a while with a piece pointing at the top.


    "That one is the hinder the Goblins as they climb the wall itself." Gilbert says, as he sees


    the commanders eyes observe the drawing. "It wont stop the big things though.


    Unfortunately Archil did not know of their existence. I suggest you simply dig holes and


    ditches to trap them in. I don''t imagine them to be able to escape a fairly deep ditch. Since


    they barely have any bone structure anyway the should settle in nicely. Especially if the


    hole is just to small."


    "I will have some of my people look in to these." Fenwick says. "For now, however, we will


    have to focus our effort on repairing the damage the last assault caused to the walls. You


    won''t believe how much damage an exploding Goblin can do!"


    "Where do you get the materials from?" Gilbert asks.


    "We have a quarry down south from here." Fenwick says. "Why do you asks?"


    "Just curious." Gilbert says. "The Goblins can be an issue if the quarry lies outside of town


    though."


    "Well, the Goblin presence seems to be stronger towards the north." Fenwick explains.


    "We never expected the Goblins to attack from the west. We thought the stupid beast


    would, if they chose to fight us, come from the north. I just happened to be doing a


    checkup on the western wall''s integrity when they attacked."


    "It bothers me though." Gilbert says. "Xandrien and I came from the west. Maybe we were


    the cause of a western attack."


    Fenwick laughs.


    "Nonsense, Gilbert." He says. "Farmers are fleeing the countryside and animals are


    growing scarcer by the day. The Goblins ran out of food to hunt. They came here for a fight


    and a meal. Luckily for the both of us they only got one of those two."


    "True, I guess." Gilbert says.


    Gilbert continued helping and talking at the wall until he returned to the inn after nightfall.


    There he fell into a mostly calm sleep.


    "I told you something very important, Gilbert." Axsel says. "Do you see that you missing my


    monologue causes you to miss crucial information!"


    "What do you mean?" Gilbert replies sleepily. "We are going to the next town."


    "Are going..." Axsel mumbles. "What I meant to convey to you yesterday, while you were


    so rudely interrupting me was that you should go the next village immediately. It is your


    fault for not letting me convey this to you."


    "But Xandrien is unfit for travel!" Gilbert protests.


    "He won''t die from a small journey, Gilbert. Axsel says. "Load him onto a cart and drive him


    there or something. I am sure that if you ask Fenwick nicely he will lent you a cart."


    "The Goblins will devour this town if nothing is done." Gilbert says. "How can I leave now."


    "I admit you did well giving Fenwick the drawing Archil made." Axsel says. "I must says, I


    did not realise they even existed. Beyond that, however, there is nothing you and your


    burned body can do for this town. The faster you finish gathering people for the revolution


    the less people will have starved to death due to a Goblin siege."


    "How do we save the farms, Axsel?" Gilbert asks. "Even in the long term, how do we


    prevent the Goblins from winning in the end. They are numberless."


    "There is a solution for it, but your are no part of it." Axsel says. "And the only way to


    create an opportunity for this solution is for humanity to be freed from Arthfael. Only the


    shall one appear that can cleanse there dens. There are creature in this realm that suffer


    no magic overload, you see. Without them it is a war with high costs. One that is preferably


    avoided."


    A moment passes.


    "I honestly wasn''t expecting you to give in this easily, so we appear to have some time


    left." Axsel continues. "Let me tell you about godly structures. When the primary gods were


    still on your plain of existence they each made a home in a different part of the world.


    Arthfael made his home on Oliron and build the tower that you saw me topple. The tower


    is special in a way that it can only be destroyed by pouring more and more interriftal


    energy into it. At one point the energy that holds everything together pulls itself apart.


    Stones burst and down goes the structure. Breaking them with confessional means proves


    difficult as the forces holding it together have been moulded in interriftal energy. That is


    how gods used to build there homes. Each structure only breaks in two ways. The


    aforementioned overloading with energy, or by burning it down for a year or so. Fire will


    eventually detonate it into a massive explosions as the smallest parts are ripped appart by


    the released energy from within them."


    "So each building we ''worship'' around the world are building made by gods?" Gilbert asks.


    "They tend to be the centre of a civilisations, yes." Axsel says. "It tends to be the very


    foundation of the first capital. Arthfael''s tower wasn''t the centre of humanity though... That


    story is for another time, however. I wish a nice journey onto you, Gilbert. Tell Xandrien I


    said hello and do make sure to stock up on enough supplies. The road north is long and


    neglected."


    The world around Gilbert fades. He wakes up slowly in his bed.

 (09) Sacrifice

    "Good luck on the journey north, you two." Fenwick says. "Two of my riders will


    accompany you on the journey. We can''t have you two fight in the state you are in. Again I


    recommend you two to stay here for a few more days!"


    "It is imperative we leave now, even though I cannot explain why yet." Gilbert says.


    "Thanks for the help you provided for us."


    "After what you two did..." Fenwick says. "Anyway, glad to be of service. I hope to see you


    two alive a few month from now. Good luck again."


    "Commander!" A young soldier yells running towards the group. "A group of armed men


    are at the north gates asking for you."


    "We are headed there now soldier." Fenwick says. "Tell them we I will be there shortly."


    "Yes, sir!" The soldier says, running of again.


    "The boy must be running all day." Xandrien says, laughing.


    "The exercise is good for him." Fenwick replies. "Anyway, let''s start moving. I will


    accompany you to the north gate. From there my men will take over."


    "What do you suppose it is all about." Gilbert asks as the horses start walking.


    "Probably just some bandit group begging for shelter from the Goblins." Fenwick replies. "It


    has been awhile since we saw the last group come in. We usually allow them in and toss


    them into some cell. We can''t have bandits roaming the streets, but we can''t let them be


    eaten by Goblins either. It is up to them which fate they prefer."


    "You let convicts chose between imprisonment and being eaten alive?" Gilbert asks. "How


    many decide to leave after arriving?"


    "Not many, but there have been a few cases where they left again." Fenwick replies. "At


    one point we could hear their screams as night fell. Not pleasant in the least, I can tell you


    that much."


    "So, what is with the leg?" Xandrien asks, pointing at the wooden structure attached to the


    commander''s right knee.


    "The boys at the workshop tinkered it together for me." Fenwick says. "Walking is still


    weird, but at least I can stand on my own two legs. It even has a metal brace, so I can use


    it for kicking."


    They arrive at the gate where a group of around ten men have gathered. Most of the carry


    spears, but two carry swords on their belts. An eleventh man sits on a horse a couple of


    metres away from the group. They wear leather armour made for the Oliron garrison. As


    soon as they see Gilbert standing in the cart, they move into action.


    "Traitors!" A man yells. "Kill them all!"


    The group quickly kills the soldiers at the gate and charge towards the cart. The man on


    the horse rides out of the town.


    "What the..." Fenwick says. "Go! I will cover your escape!"


    He rides alongside the cart as Gilbert steers it past the left flank of the group. The


    commander swings his sword as he rides by slashing one of the soldiers. The men give


    chase and one of them throws his spear hitting Fenwick''s horse in the neck. As it falls


    forward Fenwick jumps landing of both feet before falling over to the right. He quickly gets


    back up and faces the men. They slowly surround Fenwick.


    "Go!" He yells as Gilbert halts the cart. "I''ve got this!"


    Neither Gilbert nor Fenwick is convinced by this statement. Gilbert grabs the leashes and


    steers the cart through the gate. He is quickly joined by two men on horses as they ride


    north.


    Fenwick is completely surrounded now. With his long sword in both hands he stands ready


    for the attack.


    "Come on then!" He yells. "Who is first. I am only a crippled old man! How much harm do


    you think I will cause?"


    Behind Fenwick a man thrusts his spear forward. Fenwick sees this and with a fluent move


    he arcs his sword through the air hitting the spear on the side. The tip flies clean off.


    Fenwick steps closer to the man and lets go of his sword with one hand.


    "As commander of the garrison I must warn you though." He says as he slams his


    armoured fist into the man''s face. The man flies backwards, limp. "I am the toughest fighter


    in town. Back of now, or suffer the consequences."


    This is of course a bluff and Fenwick knows it. Without his leg his combat capabilities are


    limited and there are eight of them. Nonetheless the group seems shaken. They just saw


    their comrade get knocked out in a single punch after all.


    "You do not scare me." One of the men with a sword yells. "I am the leader of Oliron''s


    expeditionary forces. I challenge you to a duel, old man."


    "Ah, you are still new to your command I see." Fenwick says. "A recent promotion? I


    accept your duel! My name is Joshua Fenwick. I greet you as an equal opponent."


    "Enough with the etiquette, old man." The captain says. "I see no point in giving my name


    to a man who is soon to be deceased."


    "No honour accompanies you then?" Fenwick says. "Your gravestone will be empty then."


    "And yours will says you died in the service of a traitor!" The captain yells, getting ready to


    attack.


    The soldiers back up to give the two men more space. Fenwick swings his sword in a wide


    arc in front of him. The captain attempts to block the attack, but he is flung backwards by


    the sheer weight of the sword. He quickly climbs to his feet.


    Both men look at each other for a few seconds before they charge again. Again Fenwick


    arcs his sword in front of him, but this time the captain ducks, avoiding the blow. He thrusts


    his sword forward at Fenwick''s chest. Fenwick lands his sword in the ground next to him


    and lets go with his right hand. He grabs the captain by the wrist and pulls him past. The


    captain goes flying, before he lands face first on the cold ground.


    Fenwick pulls at his sword, but it has planted itself too deep into the ground. The captain


    climbs to his feet and laughs.


    "So this is how you end?" He says. "Defenceless. Your sword stuck in the ground. How


    does it feel to be beaten. He charges forward, sword ready to strike.


    Fenwick stops pulling on his sword and gets ready. The captain swings his sword down,


    but Fenwick dodges leaving his left foot standing. The captain brings the sword back up in


    a swing directed at Fenwick. Fenwick lifts up his left leg and places it in the swords path. It


    slams into the wooden leg, implanting itself in the iron brace.


    "No blood?" The captain says confused. "How did you..."


    Before the captain finishes, Fenwick grabs him by the back of his neck with and punches


    the captain in the stomach. He follows up with multiple blows to the face and a few to the


    chest. Before long the captains life is vanquished.


    "Captain!" One of the soldiers yells, rushing to his leaders aid.


    The garrison now moves into action. The duel lasted long enough for some brave young


    men to arrive. The soldiers are flanked and slaughtered.


    "Victory is ours men!" Fenwick yells, while sitting on the ground.


    The men cheer.


    Two days have past since Gilbert and Xandrien left Kelna they have just passed the


    crossing leading back to the city of Oliron and are still headed north, to the bigger towns


    present there. The Goblin presence in the north is lower than in the south. Because of this


    the farmer are still producing food their and provide for the city of Oliron.


    "Soldier?" Xandrien says. "How capable is your commander with that sword of his?"


    "He is the best of us, sir." One of the escorts says. He has very short hair under a leather


    cap. He is fairly tall and has blue eyes. "He used to be in the garrison at Oliron, until one


    day he joined the expeditionary force as their leading officer. That is where his training


    comes from. He trained the rest of us when he joined the garrison."


    "How come he left the garrison?" Gilbert asks.


    "When his group arrived in our town, a group of bandits was raiding it." The other escort


    says. He is extremely tall and has long black hair underneath his cap. His eyes are brown


    of colour. "He ordered his men to aid us."


    "His entire unit got slaughtered because of it." The first escort says. "Later some townsfolk


    found him in the dirt next to the road. He was wounded, but alive. He decided to not return


    to the capital and so he staid with us and eventually he became our leader."


    "So what are your names?" Gilbert asks. "Sorry for not asking earlier, but days have been


    though."


    "Don''t mind it." The first soldier says. "My name is Marc. The other guy back there is called


    Bram. We are one of the few Calvary troops present in Kelna. That is also why we are


    better equipped and have hardened leather armour on."


    "You guys have a cavalry?" Xandrien exclaims. "Why didn''t you use it against the Goblins


    the other day?"


    "We weren''t prepared for any combat at the time." Bram says. "We ended up on the wall,


    just like every other soldier in the city. Not to mention the fact that charging a horse into a


    herd of Goblins is moronic to say the least. Not one piece of the rider or the horse would


    be left after entry."


    "Fair point..." Xandrien mumbles. "Still, why do you guys have a cavalry?"


    "To be honest," Bram says laughing. "I think it was more of a way to relieve some of the


    commander''s boredom than to actually train an element of defence."


    "Not that we can complain." Marc says. "We have access to the best equipment in town,


    on top of the fact that we get to ride a horse."


    "Let''s have the horses rest here for a while." Bram suggest, riding up to a tree and binding


    his horse to it.


    Marc quickly manages to light a fire and starts roasting a piece of bread above it.


    An hour passes before they prepare to leave the resting spot. They would ride for a few


    more hours before they would stop for the night. Then only three days would be remaining


    before they reach the next town.


    "You hear that?" Marc suddenly says.


    "Yeah, everyone hide!" Bram yells.


    Gilbert runs to the trees while Bram and Marc are carrying the still limp Xandrien. They


    hide in the bushes. Twenty men on horses arrive. They all wear the leather Oliron garrison


    outfit. Two of the men carry swords. The rest carry spears on their backs.


    "Their supplies are still here." One of them says. "They can''t be far. Search for them."


    All men with spears dismount and start walking towards the trees.


    "The officers are staying on horseback." Marc mumbles, annoyed.


    "Get ready." Bram says. "Gilbert, carry Xandrien to the cart and move ahead of us. We will


    make sure we aren''t followed."


    Just as the first men reach the trees the group starts to run. Marc and Bram run towards


    their horses. The suddenness of their charge confuses the searching men and they slowly


    move into action. The officers draw their swords. One heads towards Gilbert and Xandrien,


    the other towards Marc and Bram.


    Bram turns towards the man drawing his mace from his belt. He charges at the horse


    mace in hand. Just he before the impact he stops and jumps to the side, grabbing hold of


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.the leashes swinging himself onto the horse and kicking off the rider. The rider tries to


    swing his sword at Bram, but it is blocked by Bram''s mace. He turns the horse around to


    face the man.


    "Some help here!" The man yells.


    The other horseman that was headed towards Gilbert and Xandrien has now turned


    around to save his comrade.


    Bram gallops towards the man on the ground and swings his mace at him. The mace


    connects with a loud crack as the man''s skull is crushed.


    The other man approaches bram, but Marc has already mounted his horse an drawn his


    lance. The lance pierces deep into the man''s chest crushing the man''s hart. He flies off of


    his horse.


    "The first two men already arrived at their horses and are busy mounting them to avenge


    their fallen leaders." Marc says.


    Bram rides towards the group of horses and yells loudly, scaring them. The horses start to


    move wildly tossing the climbing men off of them. Before long all of them are going.


    Gilbert has tossed Xandrien on the back of the cart and is now driving it further north.


    "Let''s go!" Marc yells.


    They ride after the cart, but a three men bust out of the bushes spears pointed forward.


    The horses collide with the spears and are killed instantly. Both Marc and Bram are tossed


    forward landing painfully in the dirt.


    "Bad..." Marc says.


    "Let''s get another horse?" Bram suggests.


    "One of those you scared away?" Marc replies.


    More soldiers gather around the two.


    "To the death then?" Bram suggests.


    "Eighteen against two?" Marc says. "Sure!"


    "I''ll take the nine on the right." Bram says.


    Both men part ways, Bram charging right and Marc charging left.


    Marc crashes into one of the soldiers, who is clumsily making his way through the bushes.


    Another soldier called out to him, but it was already too late. The man falls face first into


    the dirt before being run trough by Marc long lance.


    A man charges forward, yelling as he approaches Marc. As he pulls back his spear to


    strike Marc spins around hitting the man in the face with the back of his lance. He then


    spins his lance around and runs the man through. Another man followed marc''s previous


    opponent while another approaches from behind. Both men charge, spears pointed


    forwards. Marc steps back towards his second opponent. At the last moment he jumps out


    of the way and stabs the man behind him in the foot. He falls forward plunging his spear


    deep into his ally. Marc finishes the man with a stab to the throat. The man dies, drowning


    in his own blood.


    Marc runs back to the road where he is meets four more soldiers. They attack as soon as


    he is clear of the trees.


    Marc knocks the spear of the right most men to the right and then he spins his lance so he


    knocks the spear up. He then grabs to top of his lance and steps closer to the right most


    man stabbing him in the neck. He is too close to the second man in the line for him to use


    his spear, so the soldier drops his spear and punches Marc. Marc narrowly avoids the


    punch and plants his knee in the mans stomach. The man falls forward. Marc grabs his


    knife at slices the man''s throat.


    He steps forward towards the third man. The third man thrusts his spear down into the foot


    of Marc. Marc grabs his lance and stabs the man in the mouth. As he falls he fourth man


    slashes with his spear hitting Marc on the side of the head with the wooden shaft. Marc


    stumbles sideways. He gets back up and throws his knife, hitting the man in the right eye.


    He screams and falls to the ground.


    "Two more." Marc says.


    A cold feeling pierces his chest. A warm wet substance flows across Marc''s chest. His


    hands grow cold. As he looks down he sees the metal tip of a spear. He falls to his knees.


    The owner of the spears walks around him and pulls back his head. He smiles at him. He


    misses a significant amount of teeth. He pulls out a shining knife. He slowly brings it to


    Marc''s throat slowly. The cold metal pierces his skin as the world stops existing around


    him.


    Bram has the three enemies, who killed the horses, in front of him. He runs at them and


    point their spears forward. Bram brings his mace down on the tip of the first spear driving it


    into the ground. He then swings his mace at the spear to his right smashing the shaft. The


    third man to Bram''s left tries to move his spear out of the way, but Bram grabs it and tugs.


    The man flies forward. Bram arches down his mace splashing the man''s head. He then


    steps forward swinging his mace to the right hitting the man in the middle on the side of


    the head. His neck snaps and the man falls into the last man he falls over. Bram slowly


    walks over to him, steps on his chest and plants his mace in the man''s pleading face.


    He runs down the road to search for more men to slay. He find one of the men tangled in a


    bunch of vines and bushes. He quickly put him out of his misery.


    Two soldiers are walking down the road after they tried to chase the horses. Upon seeing


    Bram they clumsily start fumbling with their sheathed weapons. One tries to draw his knife


    as he is lacking a spear. Bram charges and hits the man with the spear in the neck


    splashing both Bram and the other soldier with blood. The other soldier charges, knife


    pointed forward. Bram kicks the knife out of his hands and whacks the man on the shin.


    His head flips over backwards.


    Three more men come running behind Bram. He smashes the first man''s spear and


    punches him in the face. He falls into the second man who misses Bram because of it.


    Bram hits him on the side of the head. The third man tries to run, but Bram quickly draws


    his knife and throws it into the base of the soldiers neck.


    He looks around and sees no one.


    "Nine." Bram mumbles, walking back to the road.


    A hissing noise fills the air. Bram feel an impact in his stomach. He falls backwards, the


    shaft of a spear sticking out of him. He slowly feels his strength leave his arms.


    "I got the other one!" A short man yells happily. He appears to be missing most of his teeth.


    The man walks up to Bram and stops to his right. He triumphantly holds up Marc head.


    A burst of strength fills Bram''s arms. He lifts up his mace and smashes the mans foot. He


    then takes his knife and hits him in the stomach.


    "My win, you coward..." Bram mumbles absently. Bram falls over backwards, dead.


    "You little..." The man says coughing up blood. "I will..."


    The man keels over. He is loosing blood rapidly and before long he too is dead.


    It has been another two days since Gilbert and Xandrien were separated from their escort.


    The forests have been around them for all this time, but now it would seem that the trees


    are thinning out. Without warning the dense forests open up into fields upon fields of grain.


    The main source of the island''s food opens up before them. On the horizon appears a city


    even greater than Kelna. It might not have a wall, but this allows for the town to expand


    into every direction without hinderance. Its residents are triple that of Kelna and


    considering how the wheat is still present, the Goblins have not traveled this far north yet.


    "Finally some proper sunlight!" Xandrien exclaims as he stretches himself. "It is good that I


    have recovered enough to move again."


    "Too bad it is setting though." Gilbert mumbles. "It would appear that we will not reach


    Taere before nightfall."


    "Details, Gilbert." Xandrien responds. "One more night out in the cold before we sleep in a


    warm inn again. That sounds more like a reward than a punishment. How are your burns


    doing?"


    "A few nasty blisters remain, but other than that I feel fine." Gilbert says. "We will rest here,


    before we end up sleeping where someone might chase us off. Too bad we can''t have a


    fire though..."


    "True." Xandrien says. "It can''t be helped though. If we end up burning all the wheat, we


    will all starve."


    The two men have a cold dinner after which Xandrien lets himself fall into the fields of


    wheat. He closes his eyes and to his amazement he finds himself in a wooden cabin.


    "Hello, Xandrien." A man in a black cloak says. "As you might have guessed, I am Axsel."


    "I see..." Xandrien slowly says as he starts to realise what is happening.


    "That was quite a trick you performed at Kelna." Axsel continues. "I must say that you


    exceeded even my expectations. Annihilating the entire Goblin horde was something I


    didn''t even hold you capable of. Now would you please explain to me, how does magic


    truly work?"


    The takes Xandrien by surprise. Why would a god ask about the workings of magic.


    "Why..." He starts.


    "Just explain it to me." The fake god interrupts. "I will explain later."


    "Alright..." Xandrien says. "A mage focusses on a point in space summoning interriftal


    energy to that spot. That then reacts with the first type of energy it comes into contact


    with."


    "This is the reason magic leaves you utterly broken, Xandrien." Axsel says. "How do you


    expect to control it if you don''t know how it works. Now listen closely. Summoning magic


    into a plain is far more complicated than you think. What you do is you separate a part of


    your soul. This flows through your body to the point in space you desire. You have full


    control over your own soul you see. The smaller someones soul, the easier it is for you to


    control it."


    "That is why Goblins burn in sunlight!" Xandrien says.


    "Yes." Axsel says, annoyed. "Now the seperated piece of your soul is then used to rip a


    hole in the fabric of space."


    "What?" Xandrien says.


    "You connect your world to the interrift." Axsel explains. "The bigger the hole, the faster


    energy flows. That is the energy that reacts as your magic. How do you suppose you can


    increase the size of the hole?"


    "You add more energy?" Xandrien asks.


    "Almost." Axsel says. "If you recklessly add more energy you simply destroy your own


    soul, like you did in Kelna. You must focus. This will allow you to ''see'' the flow of energy. If


    you let your soul flow onto the edges, the spell will be the most efficient."


    "Wait." Xandrien suddenly exclaims. "Doesn''t this mean that all humans can use magic?"


    "In theory..." Axsel says. "The only real problem is teach someone how to tear a piece off


    of their own soul."


    "It would seem that in this space you control all the interriftal energy." Xandrien says.


    "That is a good observation." Axsel says. "We gods are different from your mortal souls.


    We can let our energy mix with energy around us, allowing us the completely control the


    way it behaves."


    "And the fire is an illusion right?" Xandrien asks.


    The fake god laughs.


    "Yes, yes it is." Axsel says. "Have a good nights rest, Xandrien."


    The cabin fades and Xandrien drifts into a deep sleep.

 (10) Depravation

    (Auther''s note: if you missed the conversation between Xandrien and the fake god, go back to the previous chapter and read the lost block of text. It was added later so some of you miht have missed it.)


    "What do you mean the new Maxwell has taken over!" An older man yells. "The Virgos have stood in line waiting for the Maxwell that is now deceased to finally keel over. We should be the ones to be head of the council, not some nobody from nowhere."


    "There is nothing I can do, Mitch." An older man with grey hair says. "I am merely a messenger now. You should keep doing your part for Virgo and the people you rule. It has to be said though; in the chaos caused by the collapse of the council building, the new Maxwell was the one who showed us charisma equal to that of Maxwell himself. If not for him, there would not be a city to rule."


    "That still gives him no right to be where he is now!" Mitch Virgo yells. "I knew that deal we struck with Maxwell was just going to burn our hands. I mean look at this. Jardine, dead! Maxwell, dead! The council building, burned! We should watch our backs, Johnson. I am sure dead will follow the last involved in the destruction of the Layton''s. It is up to us now to cheat that death the best we can."


    "Truth be told, I merely ran the numbers to ensure their bankruptcy." Johnson says, full of hope.


    "And all Jardine did was attempting to keep that kid of his out!" Virgo says. "And look what became of him. I am not sure which report frightens me more. Cooked alive and then skinned, or stabbed in the street and eaten by corpsefeeders. Master Jardine was a good man. To lose him like that, well, anyway, what does the new Maxwell want."


    "You might want to refrain from calling him that when you are in a discussion." Johnson warns. "He wants the Allard and the Virgo representatives to present themselves at the council building, in order to revote the worker policies. With both Layton and Jadine gone, their people need work. Work Virgo and Allard will be able to provide."


    "At this rate we will no longer need a vote." Virgo mumbles. "I fear that soon the council itself owns more land than just the council building. When that time comes, death will have found me too. Good luck, my friend. May Arthfael look over us."


    "At this point I fear that is what we should not want." Johnson says nervously.


    "Nonsense!" Virgo says. "Arthfael is humanity''s god. He protects us all."


    "I think we might be god''s humanity." Johnson says as he leaves the Virgo mansion.


    "Erilate, sir!" Virgo yells. "I have been summoned before the council. I will return when my meeting with them comes to a close."


    "Good luck with the negotiation, my son." An old man says from upstairs.


    "Goodbye, father." Mitch mumbles as he leaves to a meeting that could bring death straight to him. "May Arthfael protect me."


    Ten minutes later Mitch Virgo arrives at the ruined remains of the once great Oliron spire.


    "You have arrived, Virgo!" Maxwell says. "Please take your seat."


    To Virgo''s amazement, they have reinstalled the seats in their original places. Even the altar is stood in the middle. Mitch happily walks over to his familiar chair to the right of Maxwell''s throne. Seeing the empty Jardine seat across saddens him slightly. Three seats are left empty today. Present are Allard, Virgo, the military, the council building representative, Maxwell and the Allard trainee. Mitch soon realises that the new Maxwell has the audacity to take his seat in the great throne.


    "Why are you the head of the council now, Maxwell?" He asks. "I, as representative of Virgo and as the most experienced politician, have the strongest claim to that chair."


    "Can you not see that this city needs more than just a politician at its head in the current state." Maxwell says. "Soon the villages supporting Oliron will turn themselves against the city. If nothing is done, thousands will die as the peasants destroy their oppressors."


    "We have oppressed no one." The Allard representative objects. "I agree that Virgo should be given that seat. You may join us, but your place is at the end of the line. Not the front."


    "Oh, but you have oppressed someone." Maxwell laughs. "The farmers that are being terrorised by hordes of hungry Goblins are a nice example of it. All that the capital does to them is demand the food that is already in short supply. For what do we ask this do you think? We promise to protect them from enemies from beyond the straight. Enemies that have never even considered crossing over to our island. We must prepare for war gentlemen, for it is upon us. Marl my words!"


    "I do truly wonder..." Virgo says. "I heard you were present when that Jardine boy, Archil, escaped. Would you perhaps know what became of him after he burned down this very building."


    "We send a squad of my best men after them." Allard says. "They reported having found the, in Kelna and they chased them north. The officer who originally captured Archil was with them. I have also received reports that Archil appears to have already passed and faded."


    "How are you so actively involved in this, Allard?" Virgo asks.


    "Well, unlike you, Maxwell approached me after the escape, since the Allards fund the military." Allard says. "We have been tracking the group since they left Oliron. This is probably the strongest argument for Maxwell to be the next head above you. He showed the quick response necessary in a leader."


    The truth is, Virgo has been hiding in his mansion after the murder on Maxwell was announced. Fearing death, he didn''t leave the mansion.


    "My father is worsening!" Virgo says. "How must I lead a council if my father has fallen ill."


    Allard''s eyes narrow.


    "Your father..." He says slowly. "The man that would rather charge out of his home to visit these meetings himself and you present him as some weakling. It should be him as the head of the council!"


    Just Mitch''s luck. He just had to bring up his father in front of Allard. Allards would always stand for a fellow warrior. It is what causes Mitch to dislike them as much. Always loyal and always brave. The Allards should be fighting the Goblins rather than sit here and talk.


    "My father has had his time before the last Maxwell." He says.


    "It is truly sad that Master Jardine can''t take that place." Allard says. "He would have been a great leader. I wonder now. Who would want the Jardines gone, since the Jardines  would be the next head?"


    "Don''t use the people I consider friends against me, Allard." Virgo warns. "If you are truly implying I did that to Master Jardine, you are a fool!"


    "What do you think, commander?" Allard asks.


    "It is more than likely." The commander says. "Not to mention the fact that a truly professional assassin was used to get to Master Jardine. Something the Virgos would have access to."


    "Head of the council." Allard says, turning to Maxwell. "I hereby charge Mitch Virgo for treason and the murder of council member, Master Jardine."


    "I have seen the evidence you showed me before the meeting, Allard." Maxwell says. "The assassin was definitely from Virgo ground and his professionalism comes at a price only affordable to the Virgos. Mitch Virgo, you are hereby sentenced to death on the altar."


    So this is how death finds me today... That is the thought echoing through mitch''s head as he is dragged onto the altar. Nothing can save him now. The sentence has been spoken. His arms and legs are tied down to the altar. He tugs at the chains, with all his might, but all it gives him are some nasty bruises on his wrists.


    "I will tell you all once!" He says, closing his eyes. "An innocent man dies here today. One that you could have saved. May my death haunt your coming dreams and may the weight of this decision forever drag you down."


    "The last words have been spoken." Maxwell says, somehow knowing the proper lines to say. "Lay your hands on the gaps across from your chair, council members. Justice shall be dealt."


    As soon as the nervous Allard trainee joins the other at the alter and lays his hands on it, a faint glow radiates  from the altar. The glow becomes brighter and brighter as more energy build. A huge ray of light impacts the centre of Mitch''s body, causing his limbs to fly through the air followed by an arch of blood. His torso simply scatters, spraying the council members in gore.


    A light shines in the distance, attracting the attention of Gilbert and Xandrien.


    "What is that!" Gilbert says slowly, in awe.


    "Magic..." Xandrien says, barely looking up. "A hugely powerful wave of energy. I wonder..."


    "What?" Gilbert says. "That is in the direction of the city of Oliron, right?"


    "Yes, it is." Xandrien says. "I don''t think it involves us at this point though. We are entering the town now, Gilbert."


    "The town?" Gilbert asks, turning around. Before him loom high buildings, made to support a larger population, while still preserving farming space. "Right!"


    "How peculiar..." Xandrien says from the front of the cart.


    "Is something wrong, Xandrien?" Gilbert asks.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Yes..." Xandrien says, pointing at the side of the road. Starved corpses litter the streets. Corpsefeeders are having a feast further down the street. "Famine... How do these people die to starvation?"


    "Hello?" Gilbert yells. "Is somebody alive out there?"


    The smell is getting worse now. Rot fills every part of the air. The streets feel completly dead.


    "Travellers?" A man says, as he opens a door. "Are you here for more food? The fields are not ready yet! We can''t give more food to the capital at this time. Please leave!"


    "Hold on, sir." Xandrien interrupts. "We are travellers from Kelna. We are not in need of your supplies."


    "Do you have food to spare!" The man suddenly says hopefully. "A few months ago, people from the capital came to us. They demanded we give them food to help sustain Oliron through some kind of Goblin infestation. They completely empty our stores. The fields aren''t ready to be reaped yet and we are dying. Please travellers!"


    "We hardly have food to spare, friend." Xandrien says. "Is there anything we might do for this town to ensure its survival?"


    "Yesterday you might have helped support the medical centres, but now I am not so sure we can still be saved..." The man says in despair. "A group decided to rob them of their last rations and now the only ones who can eat are those who saved their food. We live everyday knowing we need to spare food for the day after..."


    "How many of you are still alive?" Gilbert asks, full of regret.


    "I am sure that at least half of us still live." The man says. "The poorest of us all were the first to fall..."


    "Where can we find your leaders?" Xandrien says.


    "I honestly don''t know who leads us anymore..." The old man says. "Head to the centre of town. Maybe someone had the guts to try and restore order to this doomed town."


    "Why don''t you just leave, if it is doomed anyway?" Gilbert asks.


    "Go where?" The old man says. "I hardly have the food to sustain myself. How do you expect me to travel anywhere like that. All we can do is sit here and watch as the menu demands us as the new course... I do not plan on dying in that way."


    "The new course?" Gilbert asks.


    "You are dense, aren''t you." The man says. "I mean cannibalism. A few days from now we will all be fighting for each others meat..."


    "Oh..." Gilbert says, surprised. "That''s not good."


    "Not good?" The old man says angrily. "It is more than not good! Now don''t you two have something better to do than depriving an old man from his hard needed energy!"


    With that he slams the door shut.


    "He is right though, Gilbert." Xandrien says. "If nothing is done, people will start to find ''alternative'' source of food."


    The centre of town is a lot cleaner than the streets Xandrien and Gilbert just passed through. The smell of rotting corpses still remains, but at least someone removed the bodies. At the centre of the city square stands a tent. A group of people is actually moving around boxes and occasionally someone will enter or exit the tent.


    "Let''s see who is in charge here." Xandrien says, ignoring one of the building along the square. It was clearly attacked and some slashed corpses still remain.


    As Xandrien and Gilbert approach the tent two armed men take notice and move towards them.


    "Halt!" One of the guards yells. As ordered, both Gilbert and Xandrien stop. "What business do the two of you have in Taere?"


    "We are simple travelers, who are willing to assist the people of Taere." Xandrien says.


    "We don''t need your help, stranger!" The other guard yells. "Leave before you cause any trouble!"


    "Trouble?" Gilbert says. "You are in such a situation and you are afraid two travellers will increase your troubles? Let us help!"


    "I told you, we don''t need your help!" The guard says.


    "What is the meaning of this commotion?" Someone from inside the tent yells. A huge man with bulging muscles leaves the tent.


    "Captain!" The guard says, surprised. "I was just telling these travellers to leave our town be."


    "And why would you do that?" The captain says. "Have you seen the state of this city? We could use all the help we can lay our hands on."


    "Yes, sir..." The guard says slowly, backing off.


    "So travellers!" The captains says loudly. "Where did the two of you come from?"


    "We were in Kelna last." Gilbert says.


    "You do realise you are speaking to this city''s captain of the guard, right?" The captain says, annoyed.


    "Forgive him, sir." Xandrien says. "He used to serve a man who died recently..."


    "Let''s leave it at that then..." The captain says, still annoyed at Gilbert. "What brings you here from Kelna?"


    "The people of Taere do." Gilbert says. "We are here to free us all from the forces that control Oliron."


    "Do you now?" The captain says. "Let''s continue this talk inside the tent, gentlemen."


    "Who are those two, Tevron?" An older man sitting at a table inside the tent asks.


    "I am Xandrien Dragonheart and this is Gilbert Dragonheart." Xandrien says.


    "Dragonheart?" The old man says. "Where is your house located?"


    "We got our last name for killing a Dragon south of the city of Oliron." Xandrien explains.


    "What?" The old man says, surprised. "The two of you killed a Dragon?"


    "Captain Fenwick of Kelna gave this name to us." Xandrien continues.


    "And they know Fenwick!" Tevron says. "You two are interesting indeed. My name is Tevron Ralingar, captain of the watch in Taere."


    "I am Gallas Meckrin, mayor of this town." The old man says.


    "Surprising, to see that both of the governing people of Taere still live." Xandrien says.


    "That would be thanks to Tevron." Meckrin says. "He was the one who predicted the food shortage and took measures to avoid mass panic."


    "It wasn''t enough, though." Ralingar says. "Meckrin, if we don''t take the castle soon, there won''t be any city left to save."


    "I have already said no and I will say no again." Meckrin says. "We can''t afford to send our people into the death trap that is Northpoint Castle."


    "They have the food we need, Meckrin." Tevron says. "If we don''t capture that we are all doomed!"


    "Keep your pessimism down, Tevron." Meckrin says. "If they hear you outside, who knows what will happen."


    "We can get the supplies for you." Gilbert says. This completely stops the discussion.


    "You two would go the Northpoint Castle alone and get us the food we need?" Meckrin asks. "Are you insane."


    "Yes..." Xandrien mumbles, to soft for anyone to hear.


    "We can get the food you need, mayor." Gilbert says. "We will need help, when we take the city of Oliron and you won''t be able to if you all starve. Do we have a deal?"


    "Alright then." Tevron says. "If you two get us the food we need, we will help you in your little revolution."


    "But..." Meckrin starts.


    "Meckrin, do you want to starve?" Tevron says. "Let them save us."


    Meckrin stares down at the ground.


    "I don''t want to send these two gentlemen into an early grave..." He says.


    "Don''t worry about us, mayor." Xandrien says as he leaves the tent and heads towards their cart. "We will be just fine!"


    "Wait!" Tevron yells. "Two of my guards will accompany you."


    The two men from earlier soon join them on the cart and they set out for Northpoint Castle.


    The road isn''t long and before long the group has arrived at a hill near the castle. The castle has a round wall with four towers equally separated from each other. Between the two southern most towers lies a small gate. Few guards can be seen atop the high walls. Within the walls lies a big building.


    "Let''s wait here until nightfall." Xandrien says. "That way we can use the dark to cover our entry and escape."


    Xandrien walks over to a comfortable looking tuft of grass and starts turning it into a seat.


    "So what is our plan, Xandrien." Gilbert asks.


    "We sneak up to the wall with the four carts I brought, break through the wall, sneak into the storeroom and escape before anyone sees us." Xandrien explains.


    "Break through the wall?" Gilbert asks. "How will you possibly do that quietly?"


    "Leave that part to me." Xandrien says. "I have a plan."


    "And how do we plan on finding the storeroom?" Gilbert asks.


    Xandrien stops preparing his seat.


    "What do you mean?" He asks.


    "The storeroom is probably located in the building within the castle walls." Gilbert states. "I don''t know about you, but if I were in there I would have no clue which rooms to avoid and which rooms to enter."


    "And that is exactly why I am also entering that place." Xandrien says, radiating confidence. "Will be able to guide us through, Gilbert. Don''t worry about it."


    "If you say so..." Gilbert says, sceptically.


    "You best get some rest, Gilbert." Xandrien says. "Tonight is going to be a long night indeed..."

 (11) Breaching

    "What in Arthfael''s holy name are those?"


    "Goblins, soldier." Paul Allard, representative of the Allard family, says. "Be on guard, men! Should these beast cross our walls, then our loved ones will not see the end of the night. As night falls they will attack!"


    "How many do you think there are?" The commander asks. "We seem to be understaffed."


    "There might be thousands more in the forests, Helvicker." Paul says. "All we can do is defend this city from the horror they would bring."


    "If you say so..." Helvicker says. "Listen up, men! These beast are weak to anything warmer than a fist. Be sure to load flaming arrows. Arrows fly at my command. Let''s show these brainless monster what it means to invade the city of Oliron! We will not let a single one through. Remember your training and cover each other. For Oliron!"


    An agreeing roar sounds among the men.


    Darkness falls...


    "Steady!" Allard yells. "Daren, try to stay back. This fight could turn bad quick and I would not want you to get hurt. Should I fall, then we will need you in the council."


    "Yes, uncle." Daren says, stepping away from the front row.


    Three rows of around fifty or sixty men are positioned along the wall. The wall is no more than ten metres wide. The geological position of Oliron is perfect for a choke point defence. Another twenty men are positioned to reinforce the gate, should it fall. The ditch the gate was build in would cause the attackers to fight an uphill battle.


    The scratching of nails on stone can be heard now. It is followed by the sound of rattling armour. War cries fill the air.


    "Lights!" Helvicker yells.


    Every tenth man brings forth his torch and tosses it over the wall. These light the bails of hay placed there. Soon a big part of the land in front of the gate is ablaze. The railings of the bridge light up and the Goblin forces stagger at the high temperatures.


    "Run back to your hovels, scum!" Helvicker yells triumphantly.


    The bravest of the Goblins are charging through the flames, however. Soon the main force follows, undeterred by the fire.


    "Archers, ready!" Paul yells. The men in the back row draw their bows with flaming arrows. "Fire!"


    A cloud of sixty flaming arrows fills the air, killing dozens of Goblins. The Goblins hit, fall and burst into flame. Yet still the mass runs at the wall.


    "Prepare for melee combat!" Helvicker yells at the soldiers. "Show them your training!"


    Helvicker draws his short swords and takes position next to Paul.


    "Prepared?" Paul asks.


    "Of course!" Helvicker says. "I was born for this."


    The first Goblins reach the wall and start their fast ascend. The men quickly kill the first wave, before it has even reached the top. Paul and Helvicker are hacking away at soft limbs. In the mids of the chaos of battle there occurs a short moment of rest for the two.


    "You alright, Helvicker?" Paul asks. "Helvicker?"


    Helvicker just stands there, looking forward dreamily. Just before the next wave of Goblins arrives he grabs Paul.


    "What the..." Paul starts. Before he finishes, Helvicker tosses him over the edge of the wall.


    As he hits the ground he hears a loud crack, followed by an enormous amount of pain. He coughs loudly, blood spraying the field. The Goblins are closing in now. Helvicker lands next to him, dazed. Anger overtakes Paul as he hoists Helvicker by the collar. As he does this, pain fills his chest and he falls back down.


    "Why?" Paul coughs.


    "I don''t know..." Helvicker says. "It just happened..."


    The Goblins are upon them now. One larches on to Paul''s left arm. Helvicker is not so lucky, as one attaches itself to his face. Loud sucking noises and a faint screaming mark his end. Paul feels his wrist snap, as dozens of teeth work it''s way up his arm. Paul could feel himself lose consciousness. With a mighty effort he lunges his sword deep into the Goblin. It quickly releases its grip and moves back. Mere moment later another Goblin springs forward, latching itself to Paul''s right arm. Paul is forced to drop his sword and he screams in agony. More Goblins gather now. Most start to chew on legs and feet. Before long, Paul Allard is dead.


    In horror Daven watches as Helvicker tosses his uncle over the wall. Anger overtakes Daven and he rushes over to Helvicker, but before he is anywhere near, Helvicker leans back against the wall and tumbles over. Daven rushes passed the rows of defenders and stares down the wall. There he sees his dear uncle get torn to bits. Unrest fills the ranks at the loss of their commanders.


    "We need to help them!" Daven yells at one of the soldiers.


    "Lord Daven?" The soldier says. "I am sorry, sir. There is nothing we can do now."


    "But..." Daven starts.


    He is interrupted by an agonising scream as Paul''s life ends. The soldiers waver. A few men step back. Fighting through the anger and sadness, Daven Allard assumes command.


    "I, Daven Allard, assume command of the defences." Daven yells. "Get back in line! We have a city to protect."


    The name Allard carries through the ranks, as order starts to return to the formation. Breaches are mended and the defences slowly reform.


    "Oliron will not fall with the death of one man!" Allard says. "Oliron will fall when all men are gone. When I look around me I still see men and women, ready to fight! Oliron hasn''t fallen with the death of my uncle. We will make sure of that!"


    The fight intensifies as more Goblins start reaching the wall. The casualties sustained in the laps of resolve are wearing down on the defenders, but the lines aren''t falling. More Goblins stream across the bridge however.


    "There is no end to them!"


    "Every flood ends, soldier!" Allard yells. "Hold the line, men! For Oliron!"


    The numbers of defenders is steadily decreasing now. Men are scattered everywhere, either wounded or dead. Everyone else is at the very least exhausted.


    "Archer, shoot at the bridge entrance!" Allard yells.


    A group of ten archers gathers and starts pelting the entrance with flaming arrows. Every Goblin hit explodes into flames. Soon the stacks of corpses form a flaming barricade, giving the defenders some well deserved rest.


    Allard collapses against the wall. He has a big wound on his shoulder and his body is covered in scratches, bruises and gore. His armour and clothing is all but ripped to shreds and is hanging loosely off of him.


    Maxwell approaches the wall.


    "Daven Allard." He says. "I never suspected you to fall in for Helvicker."


    "Please don''t... say that name... ever again." Daven says panting.


    "Why what happened?" Maxwell asks.


    "He lost hope at the sight of the Goblin army and killed both himself and my uncle." Daven says.


    "He killed Paul Allard?" Maxwell says seemingly surprised. "Very unfortunate indeed..."


    "Unfortunate." Daven laughs. "That would be one way to say it, yes."


    "We are currently gathering the off duty soldiers." Maxwell says. "Reinforcements are on the way. They will be here as soon as they are armed."


    "That is some good news at last." Daven says. "What will be of the council now another two members have perished. After tonight I am going to be occupied with reinforcing our defences, so I won''t be of much use in the council."


    "I''ll handle the political affairs, as head of the council." Maxwell says. "War is coming soon, so we need our defences to be in a good shape before then. Good luck with the fight, Daven."


    Maxwell turns around and leaves. He soon disappears between the building.


    "Get ready, men!" Daven yells. "The fire is dying down."


    "Are we ready?" Xandrien asks. Night has fallen and a strong southeastern wind fills the air with noise.


    "Ready." Gilbert says.


    The group walks across the field towards Northpoint Castle. Few guards, guided by torches, walk across the walls, peering into the darkness. This night has no moon, however and so their sight is limited. Before long the group has reached the western wall undetected.


    "What now, genius?" One of the soldiers asks.


    "Now we go through." Xandrien says.


    "Go through?" The soldier says. "You must be mad. How do you expect to break a wall without alerting anyone?"


    "Just watch." Xandrien says. He focusses. The wind picks up, drowning out all noise. Xandrien then starts tapping on the wall. The entire section starts to shake. Slowly the stones come lose. The lower section of wall starts to collapse. Before the group can even move, a guard hits the ground next to them, dead. He must have been blown of by the wind. This startles Xandrien and the wind dies down. A tired expression covers Xandrien''s face.


    "Unfortunate..." Xandrien says. "Drag him next to the wall. We don''t need to get spotted, because he fell. And put that torch out, before it lights the field on fire."


    One of the soldiers grumpily starts moving the body while the other one puts out the fire.


    "One of them should stay here and guard our exit." Gilbert says.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "Yeah..." Xandrien says. "You, stay here and guard our exit."


    The soldier Xandrien points at still looks unhappy about taking orders, but does what he is told. He puts his cart against the wall and starts looking around.


    "That was new." Gilbert says as he follows Xandrien into the castle.


    "I met fake..." Xandrien responds.


    "What did he say?" Gilbert asks.


    "He told me a thing or two about magic." Xandrien says. "Now be quiet."


    "Do you smell that?" Gilbert says. "Ash?"


    "Quiet!" Xandrien says.


    The castle is quiet. The only activity comes from the guards on patrol. The group slowly moves to the door of the central tower. Two torches light the entrance, but no guard stands watch. Xandrien carefully looks around to make sure no guards are around.


    "Let''s leave the carts here." He says. "They would be too noisy inside."


    Xandrien gives the door a push and, to his surprise, it isn''t locked. Since the castle is out in the middle of nowhere, nobody bothers to lock a door behind a wall, especially of that door is used a lot. The group slowly enters the building.


    Six doors are on the ground floor. The last two are definitely part of two separate, circular staircases, since they are build into a rounded wall. The hallway is dark and only a single torch hangs on the wall at the end of the corridor. Xandrien slowly advances towards the first door on his right. No signs mark the doors, so Xandrien can only guess which door is the right one. No light shines underneath the door, so the room is dark. Xandrien pushes the door, opening an abyss of darkness before them. As their eyes start to adjust to the darkness, they see a few rows of beds lined up. Most are occupied, but some are empty. Xandrien quickly closes the door, almost slamming it shut. Gilbert intervenes and catches the door just in time, gently closing it. Gilbert puts his finger to his lips.


    Xandrien, looking a bit ashamed of himself, moves to the next door on the right. A faint light glows from within the room. Xandrien opens the door a little to see if someone guards the room. He sees rows upon rows of boxes, but no guards. Two torches light the room.


    Xandrien signals the others to follow him inside and softly closes the door behind them. They then proceed the open one of the crates. It contains a lot of salted meat. Other crates contain other food and some are filled with spears and shields.


    "We can''t take the weaponry." Gilbert says. "Let''s grab two crates of food each and bring them back to the carts."


    "Good idea." Xandrien replies, picking two crates.


    They are interrupted by the door falling shut. A man stands dreamily across of Xandrien.


    "Hey you!" The man says. "I know you."


    "I''m not s..." Xandrien starts.


    "No, no, no!" The man says. "You are that new recruit. Of stealing food are we? Not that I blame you. There is too much anyway." The man lets out a loud laugh. "Now let''s find something good..."


    "This crate contains something interesting." Xandrien says, pointing at one of the opened crates in front of him.


    "Really?" The man says, walking towards Xandrien.


    Just before he reaches Xandrien, Xandrien notices the man draw a knife from his belt. The movement was slight, but definitely there. A few passes away from Xandrien the man lunges forward, ripping a part of Xandrien''s shirt. Xandrien quickly retaliates by grabbing the man by the neck and bringing him down onto the floor. The knife hits the floor next to Gilbert, who quickly picks it up. Xandrien did not have enough time to start using magic again, so the man is merely restrained.


    "A little help here." Xandrien says softly.


    Gilbert rushes over and kneels next to the man, putting the knife to his throat. He looks the man in the eyes. The man struggles even more, desperate to escape the cold metal. With a smooth motion, Gilbert slices the man''s throat, blood gushing out of the gaping wound. The man struggle for a few more second, drowning in his own blood. Moments later the movements stop and the man is dead.


    "Let''s move." Xandrien says.


    The three men quickly gather there crates and start making their way to the door. Just a Xandrien reaches the door, it is flung open by two men armed with spears. Xandrien slams into one of them, flinging him into the wall. The other one looks around in confusion, before the soldier hits away the man''s spear, knocks of his helmet and headbutts him. The man falls to the floor, unconscious after the helmeted headbutt. This action forced the soldier to drop his crates and he quickly gathers them again.


    "Run!" Xandrien yells.


    As they run down the hall the barrack doors fly open. Xandrien slams into the one on the left, shutting it again. Gilbert tries to do the same, but without magic the impact hurts. He stumbles, but is caught by the soldier, who drags him along. Xandrien is just ahead of them, preparing his cart. Gilbert and the soldier quickly toss the crates on the cart and start running after Xandrien. The alarms are now being raised and activity on the wall is increasing.


    "Hurry up!" The soldier at the hole yells, preparing to run.


    Xandrien passes him and he starts running along side Xandrien. The are closely followed by Xandrien and the other soldier. An archer on the wall bring up his bow and releases an arrow at the retreating group, but he misses the completely in the darkness. Just as the cross the hill however, a faint light from the south illuminates the group. One more arrow is fired and this one finds its mark...


    The soldier, that was previously guarding the hole, lets out a short yell, before falling down with an arrow sticking out of his spine. With the noise from the castle and the darkness of the night, no one notices the man''s death.


    "Where did James go?" The remaining soldier asks.


    "No clue." Xandrien says, maintaining his sprint. They soon reach the carriage and head back to Taere.


    "We need food, Meckrin!" Tevron says. "We can''t hope for the travellers to make it back alive. They haven''t returned since yesterday. If we don''t do something, the city will descend to anarchy."


    "What would you have me do?" Meckrin asks. "Kelna can''t help us because of the Goblins and the fields won''t be ready before next month!"


    "Order a full search of the city." Tevron suggests. "Find every single crum of food that is left."


    "The people will never agree to that." Meckrin argues. "Too many of them hide the last supplies they own. If we take those away and redistribute them, a rebellion will follow. I agree we must act in some way, but that is not the right course of action."


    A short man runs into the tent.


    "Tevron, sir, the travellers are back!" He says.


    "What?" Tevron says, walking out of the tent.


    A carriage is driving further down the main street.


    "Unbelievable..." Tevron says. "The morons pulled it of. They actually got us food."


    "And so are people are doomed to join a forsaken rebellion..." Meckrin says, joining Tevron outside. "I hope you know what you are doing, Tevron."


    "That makes two of us." Tevron mumbles. "Thank you, travelers! We can''t be more in your debt."


    "Our pleasure, sir." Xandrien says, jumping down from the cart. "You might want to increase the watch though. The garrison was not all too happy about us stealing their food."


    "But now we will face them on our terms." Tevron says. "I assure you that we have more than a good chance of defeating an attack of that small garrison. You two, bring those crates to Meckrin''s tent!"


    "Yes, sir!"


    "James died..." Xandrien says.


    "Unfortunate..." Tecron says. "At least he died so we could live. He lost a lot to the hunger. His family was one of the unlucky ones. They died too early."


    "How is the city itself?" Gilbert asks.


    "It''s still in one piece." Tevron says. "Thanks again, for ensuring our survival."


    "Why would the capital let their food supply starve though?" Gilbert wonders. "It just makes little sense to me."


    "I must say, I don''t much care what the capital is thinking at this point." Tevron says. "And, unlike Meckrin, I would be glad to join your revolution."


    "Good to hear." Xandrien says. "We have our allies, now all we need to do is assemble them. When are your men ready?"


    "In one month, when we harvest the crops, we will be back at full strength and even capable of feeding a full army." Tevron says.


    "Could you send a messenger to Kelna to inform them of the time?" Gilbert asks. "It would be great if Fenwick is there to receive the message."


    "I can do that." Tevron says. "Farewell, travellers. I have food to redistribute."


    "Farewell." Gilbert says.


    Tevron leave to the tent, passing Meckrin near the opening.


    "You have my greatest thanks, travellers." Meckrin says. "We will be ready to return the favour, when the time is right."


    "Thank you, Meckrin." Gilbert says. "We are glad to be of help."


    "Oliron knights spotted!" A panicked voice yells. "Alarm!"

 (12) Duty

    "So... why did you try to kill Taere?"


    "Axsel!" Arthfael yells. "You... How dare you bring yourself before me? You and that stupid Ojor have gone too far!"


    "Oh, really?" Fake says.


    "Yes, really." Arthfael says. "You two went and did it. You broke that which was my only physical possession. I never did expect Ojor of all gods to help the likes of you!"


    "We made an arrangement." Fake says simply. "One I have recently altered."


    "That stupid god!" Arthfael says in rage. "I should have killed him in the old world."


    "And have created a second Suntrius?" Axsel says. "My dearest father, are you going mad?"


    "You no longer have the right to call me that." Arthfael says. "Leave you hypocritical replica of a god."


    "I will leave as my question is answered." Fake states. "Why did Taere need to be destroyed?"


    "The humans are too plentiful to properly control, as you can clearly see." Arthfael slowly explains. "Your revolution would have been in vain if the population outside Oliron would have been insufficient. You just had to go and disturb Kelna didn''t you. The idea was that it would supply the food to the capital, while the soldier stationed at Northpoint took Taere. Now you tell me; why did you summon them one year ago?"


    "Who knows really..." Fake says laughing.


    "You are truly beyond me..." Arthfael says. "I am done with you now. Leave before I decide to blast you."


    "Alright then..." Fake says, turning around. "Good luck with your plans." With a wave fake disappears.


    "He just has to ruin everything, doesn''t he?" Arthfael says.


    "I must insist." The Jardine representative, Haulus, says. "The Jardines are a vital part of this government. You can''t just simply cut us out because we lost our leader!"


    "Haulus, I know this is hard on you, but I fear I can no longer trust the Jardines, since one of you seems to be rallying an army against the city. If I let you back into the government, it could weaken our defences."


    The couple is  now entering the ruins of the council building.


    "You can''t be the lone ruler of Oliron, Maxwell." Haulus says. "If the people take notice..."


    "The people don''t take notice, Haulus." Maxwell states. "As long as people have food, water and a home they will not complain about they who rule them."


    "This is not a hypothetical city, Maxwell." Haulus says. "This is Oliron. The city where power is shared among the many. You have somehow managed to become the last man standing. I am warning you. If you keep this up, Oliron will fall."


    "Do plan on continuing this meaningless conflict with me, Haulus?" Maxwell asks with a friendly tone.


    "I intend to stand for the rights and needs of Oliron." Haulus says. "And you seem to be betraying both of those values."


    Then... I do fear you are a threat..." Maxwell says. "I am sorry old friend."


    "Old friend?" Haulus asks. "My dearest Maxwell, I hardly know you." Haulus laughs loudly. "Don''t be so gloomy. Just give my words some thought and maybe you will return to your senses."


    Maxwell grabs Haulus by the collar and hoists Haulus into the altar.


    "Maxwell?" Haulus asks, just before the altar starts to glow. Peace fills Haulus'' face. "Good luck, Archil..."


    The beam of light errupts and tosses Haulus'' limbs around. Some bricks of the tower slide past Maxwell''s feet and lock in place.


    "I am truly sorry, old friend." Maxwell says.


    The defence lasted all night, but with the steady supply of fresh conscripts to support the walls, the city of Oliron held. The wall is painted in blood and the field in front of the gate is still charred. The base of the wall is stacked with Goblin corpses. The more of them were killed, the higher the stack became and the faster Goblins were back at the top. The corpses of both Paul and Helvicker are nowhere to be seen. Leaning against the wall sits Daven. As soon as the Goblins went into a full retreat as the last burning few ran away, screaming, Daven fell against the wall in utter exhaustion and before long he was asleep.


    "How are you feeling, Daven." Maxwell asks, his face just inches away from Daven''s.


    Daven wakes up and almost jumps at the sight of Maxwell face.


    "Don''t be so jumpy." Maxwell says. "I am merely here to congratulate you on a fine battle. The people of Oliron, including myself, owe you our thanks."


    "Don''t thank me." Daven says. "I executed my duty as the oldest capable Allard. The soldiers are the ones who you owe your thanks to."


    "Is that so?" Maxwell asks.


    "Yes, that is so." Daven says, annoyed. "A single commander can''t hold a line. Without soldiers a commander is nothing more than a single man. The soldiers are the thing that create a great commander."


    "I will remember that..." Maxwell says. "How are you feeling, Daven?"


    "Broken, battered and exhausted." Allard says. "Exactly how an Allard should be."


    "How is that?" Maxwell laughs. "You know perfectly well, Maxwell. Allard have always been soldiers at hart. That is how we are born and raised. What is wrong with you, Maxwell? You seem overly happy somehow."


    "How is that something bad?" Maxwell asks.


    "You are just always so serious." Allard says. "It feels weird to see you smile like this."


    The smile instantly disappears. Annoyance flashes across Maxwell''s face. He mumbles something angrily. Daven hears the words ''stupid vessel'' come by.


    "So, what is making you this happy?" Allard says.


    "Well..." Maxwell begins, quickly thing of a reason to hide the fact he isn''t used to have his vessel spill hormones into his system. "It would seem that the government is reestablished."


    "That is great news indeed." Daven says. "Now, if you don''t mind, I have a nights rest to catch up to. Good day, Maxwell."


    Daven walks away, yawning. Tomorrow would be another long day and he needs to catch up on his sleep.


    The Goblin camp consists of a huge amount of improvised tents and holes in the ground. The Goblins do whatever they possibly can to guard themselves from the hated sun.


    A huge number of them had fallen during the assault on the big human settlement and it would take them time to recover. At the fall of night, the Goblins would go and devour more trees in the surrounding areas to increase there numbers.


    Goblins reproduce much like microorganisms. They eat and, when they have eaten enough, they split themselves into two nearly identical duplicates. As this distorts their bone structure, they will need some time to recover from the process.


    Goblins that are incapable of division become bigger and bigger, until they collapse under their own weight, or until they can no longer hide from the sun. The Goblin king has such a defect. In his case, however he can still split off a limited amount creating stillborn Goblins. This is why he is the biggest Goblin that lives for a prolonged period of time.


    "Meat!" A Goblin yells in the Goblin language. "I meat!"


    "No meat!" The King roars. "You failure, ''Strategist''."


    This enrages the one called ''Strategist'' or Akfrekr in Goblin.


    "You no lead!" It says. "Me no follow!"


    The blob that is the Goblin king grows a few centimetres.


    "You no follow..." He says, starting to roll towards Akfrekr. "I no need!"


    Panicked Goblins hurriedly dive out of the way of the enraged king as Akfrekr is backed into a corner.


    "Apologies." Akfrekr says. "I follow!"


    This comes too late as Akfrekr is crushed by the sheer weight of his king. A loud screaming fills the cave. A loud crack sounds and the screaming stops.


    "No follow?" The Goblin king asks.


    The other Goblins shrink to show their submission to their king.


    "Good!" The Goblin king says. "We eat meat! Soon!"


    A cheer rises from the group.


    "Grow!" The Goblin king orders. "Increase!"


    The cave is filled with cheering as the Goblins relish at the thought of a new battle.


    "What is the meaning of this?" Tevron yells.


    "Sir!" A scout says, panting. "A large group of Oliron knights is headed for the town, sir. They will be here by nightfall. I fear they may be the garrison from the castle."


    "That would make sense..." Tevron says.


    "Sir?" The scout says, confused.


    "Gather my men near the tent." Tevron says. "We will give these uninvited guests a warm welcome."


    "Yes, sir." The scout says as he disappears between the buildings.


    "You two will want to see this one." Tevron says. "You might have seen Fenwick defend a wall, but you have yet to see me prepare a town for combat. Let me prove my worth to your cause tonight."


    He laughs and heads back towards the tent to inform Meckrin.


    "This is our fault you know..." Gilbert says. "Again."


    "Last time was all you and Archil." Xandrien says. "I had nothing to do with that."


    "True." Gilbert says, absentmindedly. "I just hope we don''t get anyone killed with this."


    "Gilbert, we just saved the town from starvation." Xandrien says. "We need not feel guilty for the few that die for the many."


    "Do you really believe you won''t lose sleep over those who died because of you?" Gilbert asks.


    "No..." Xandrien says. "But you can''t let the past destroy your present either. Let''s see what the night brings, before we mourn the dead."


    "You two, get over here!" Tevron yells from within the tent.


    "Duty calls." Xandrien says.


    The day progressed slowly as they waited for the Oliron knights to arrive. Tevron was continuesly ordering troops to different locations. Soon there was no part in the town left that eyes did not cover.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "Now the real art begins." Tevron says.


    Gilbert, Xandrien and Tevron are in one of the higher, eastern buildings. From here they can see all the streets Tevron expects combat in. The town was especially designed to have spots like this, to allow an increased defensive capability.


    The first group of knights walks into the street almost next to the building. Their leather armour made a barely perceivable amount of noise. Gilbert counts eight knights.


    Another group is stealthily sneaking through another street further north. They seem to have no idea that a scout saw their approach. This group contains another eight knights.


    Yet another group can be seen entering a street further south. As far as Gilbert can see that is the last of them. All knights appear to be armed with spears.


    "An let the night begin red." Tevron says, almost happily. He lets out a single yell, startling the knights.


    Doors fly open everywhere as the garrison armed with spears storms onto the street. Among the ambushing forces, men with pitchforks can be seen as well.  These townsfolk don''t take kindly to intruders.


    The most northern group has to biggest problem. As they were sneaking past the doors they were flung open and two knights are unconscious before the fight even begins. The rest is quickly skewered. The southern group has mayor problems as well. They weren''t carefull enough entering the town and never expected an ambush. They barely have time to raise their spears, before they too are dead.


    The group next to the building managed best. As soon as the yell sounded, they jumped into formation. Two men cover each flank as one issues orders. They even manage to kill a few attackers who dared come too close.


    "Oh, what a bother." Tevron says. He stands up and grabs his spear. He levels it and takes aim.


    "From here?" Xandrien laughs. "Are you mad?"


    "Not a clue." Tevron says. "Are you?"


    Tevron hurls the spear through the air. For a few seconds it''s in the air. The man issuing orders is hit in the chest and falls over, limp. This shatters the morale of the remaining men, who quickly break formation, only to get slaughtered.


    "Nice throw..." Gilbert says in astonishment.


    "Sir, we have a problem." The panicked voice of the scout says. "They got to Meckrin, sir. A group of knights broke through."


    "What?" Tevron yells in rage. "Give me that spear."


    Tevron yanks the spear out of the scouts hands and rushes down the stairs. Xandrien and Gilbert follow. Tevron leads them down an infinite amount of narrow streets and paths, until they finally reach the central square. The tent that was placed there is now in ruins. From within the clinic multiple voices can be heard. One of them is Meckrin, yelling in defiance.


    "What''s wrong mayor?" A knight asks. "Are you incapable without that captain of yours? Oh well, you will die now anyway. The knight rushes at Meckrin, sword outstretch, but Meckrin dodges the man''s sword and slices his neck with a knife. Build pours over Medkrin''s hands as the man falls to his knees, gurgling and drowning in blood.


    "How dare you!" Another man with a sword says, walking at Meckrin. "Die!"


    A metal point erupts out of the man''s chest. The man look at it in confusion as he slowly falls to his knees. The knights, armed with spear, look at their two commanders in horror.


    Tevron storms through the hole in the wall and slams into the nearest knight, breaking his bones on the wall. The other knights fall to their knees in defeat. The battle is won.


    "Tevron!" Meckrin says. "I can''t say I have ever been this happy to see someone. Those combat lesson you provided had its uses after all."


    "Let''s get that cut looked after." Tevron says. "You can''t govern a city with blood dripping into your eyes."


    They walk out of the clinic. Outside a huge part of the garrison has gathered.


    "The day is our men!" Tevron yells triumphantly.


    "Our scouts report trouble within Oliron." Herklendir says. "The Pentilians might fall under threat, should humanity decide to cross the narrow straight."


    "Have you learned nothing from the ancient texts our lord Neralis provided to our species, Herklendir?" Erkaliskar says. "Oliron is owned and maintained by the mighty Arthfael. It is his divine duty to contain the island. It is the very reason our tribes flourish."


    "And yet I fear this peace may reach its end, Erkaliskar!" Herklendir says. "We must prepare ourselves for the time humans do cross. What will you do when they land with their ships. Humans seek only one thing and that thing leads to death. We must prepare for the worst case."


    "Blasphemy!" Gelikdich says.


    "High priest?" Herklendier says, surprised. "What brings you to the council hall?"


    The council hall, build by the great Neralis in the depths of a mountain, is a beautifully decorated cave that is eternally lit. Many Pentilians travel here to marvel at what their god has left them.


    "I am here to remind you all of the reason humanity exists solely on that island!" Gelikdich says. "It is my duty as the high priest."


    "High priest, I don''t think we need a reminder of..." Erkaliskar begins.


    "Clearly, Erkaliskar, some of you council members do." Gelikdich interrupts. "I shall begin now. After creating our world and its wonder, the gods retreated to their sacred realm to rule over their kingdoms. Their departure created a multitude of sentient being, spread across the world. We, the Pentilians, were born into these very halls. The Atracarians, although their god perished, were born into the Great Northern Cities. Among the races emerging around these lands came another creature. Humans, born godless, roamed these lands and build the cities and towns above the surface we inhabit today. As the greed of humanity grew, they dared venture onto the sacred lands of Oliron, ruled by  the mighty Arthfael. As their cities grew ever prosperous on Oliron, their cities here became devoid of life, as Arthfael''s wrath demolished their populations. Soon no human was found beyond Oliron ever again. Arthfael has kept it so for centuries. Why would he fail now, Herklendier?"


    "I fear that a struggle beyond our vision is interrupting Arthfael''s cycle of peace." Herklendier says. "No human could stop a god. Not alone. I fear a god is siding with the humans."


    "My dearest council member." Gelikdich laughs. "All gods know the cruciality of humanities limitations. Should they leave Oliron, countless race would perish at their hands."


    "And so I suggest we prepare accordingly!" Herklendier says. "Should the humans escape Oliron, we need to be ready. Our lives depend on this very act!"


    "Still you insist on Arthfael failing his divine task." Utrakal, head of the council, says. "Do you have any evidence to support your claims?"


    "As I mentioned before, our scouts have spotted disturbing movements within the Oliron population." Herklendier says. "On top of that, Goblins are destabilising the region and, worst yet, Arthfael''s tower can no longer be seen from the shores!"


    The last statement causes the other council members to start talking among themselves. They simply cannot believe that fact to the tower could have fallen.


    "Nonsense!" Gelikdich says. "Godly structures cannot fall. Your scout might be going blind, Herklendier. It would seem they are seeing the impossible, or rather, they aren''t seeing something that is their. Go visit them sometime. The fresh air might clear your head of all these radical theories."


    "Herklendier, I request of you to confirm these reports first hand." Utrakal says. "Report back to the council in two weeks."


    "Yes, my lord." Herklendier says respectfully as the leaves the room.


    "This meeting is over!" Utrakal declares. "We shall meet again tomorrow to discuss these matters further."


    The council member get up from their chairs and leave the room.


    "What a mess..." Utrakal mumbles. "Fifty more years and it would have no longer been my problem."


    Utrakal sighs before also rising and leaving the hall through a back door.


    "So, Maxwell, how are the preparations?" Arthfael asks.


    "Oliron has only one ruler now." Maxwell says. "I am also making sure that every human scheduled for executions is properly seen of a the altar."


    "In time my tower will rise again." Arthfael smiles. "Axsel truly believes he can destroy my building so easily. He should know better. I am the greatest at manipulating interriftal energy among the gods! Of course I am perfectly capable of adding a reconstructional item within the walls of what I build. It is the very reason I only have one where others have many."


    "The altar..." Maxwell says.


    "Yes the altar." Arthfael says. "All it needs is energy. Something humans can happily provide with their souls. An adequate payment for helping Axsel."


    "My stupid brother did give it his best shot." Maxwell says. "He even got me at the execution."


    "Don''t call him your brother!" Arthfael says. "Before all this we were a family of sorts. Now that is no more."


    "To be fair, you did use Axsel as a means to establish an immortal ruler for the humans." Maxwell says. "You must admit, that plan of your flew right back at you."


    "Don''t make fun of this." Arthfael says. "Should we fail, then the world will be at risk. Now get back down there. I have had enough of you for one day."


    "Of course you have..." Maxwell complains as he descends back to his vessel.

 (13) Callish Reclis

    "It is truly fascinating, Axsel." Ojor says. "You feel for these humans and yet you are a god. I was certain, like the rest of us, that gods were only capable of feeling mental strain and we would create emotions along those lines, but you seem to do something completely different. You seem to feel emotions like the humans do. Please tell me, my friend, why is it that you feel emotions in this way."


    "That is not the reason I am here, Ojor." Axsel says.


    "Oh I know alright." Ojor says. "Yet I would still like your answer to my question. You see, I think that your way of viewing the world has put you in a better position to rule over subjects, since your thinking is closer to theirs."


    "Since it''s you I suppose..." Axsel says.


    "Remember how Arthfael send me down to Oliron only shortly after I stabilised my form?" Axsel asks.


    "Yes, I seem to recall he wanted you to rule humanity or some nonsense like that." Ojor says.


    "Exactly." Axsel continues. "I was raised by a group of farmers who found me in a vessel Arthfael left me in. Ten years I spent learning their culture, until at some point I finally managed to free myself from the body, back to this realm. That is not the only reason for my behaviour however. I did some studying on the human physiology. They are managed by reactions happing consistently across the body. Some of these reactions, originating from the brain, influence a person''s emotional state as well. This changed me and it still does, since I frequently travel down to Oliron. Maxwell must feel the effects too..."


    "That is too bad really." Ojor says. "I was planning to try the same with my race, but I am  a primary god. I have no way of living within a vessel."


    "You want to start thinking like those creatures you made sentient." Axsel says. "I will warn you now. As you are someone who''s being is not like theirs I am certain you will lose yourself. Do not accelerate your adaption to their ways to quickly, Ojor. This is a warning from a friend."


    "Are you calling my race idiotic?" Ojor says. "Archil, as a secondary god you yourself are still incapable of such feats. How dare you call my eternities work useless!"


    "Calm down, Ojor." Axsel says. "I merely said they were drastically different from the lifeforms on Ataria."


    "What is it you wanted, Axsel." Ojor says. "Since you have listened to my request, it is only fair I listen to yours."


    "I would request you refrain from attacking Ataria." Axsel says. "I know now what you plan to do with the materialised interriftal energy I gave you. I would humbly asks you do not target the planet I hold so dear."


    "I fear, Axsel, it may already be too late for me to stop the destruction of Ataria." Ojor says. "The ingots of energy are already tossed into space and I have accelerated them through the interrift... I fear I sense one near this plane of this realm. That can only mean, that one has arrived on Ataria."


    "Any life form in contact with that stone will start sending a signal to your fleet, right?" Axsel asks. "Your creatures, capable of space travel without a vehicle. It would seem that I must resolve this matter on my own terms. Please do tell me, where will this ingot of your land?"


    "It will the land where no god sits to claim it." Ojor says. "That is the land of Suntrius, is it not?"


    "The Northern great cities..." Axsel mumbles. "I will see you another day, Ojor. I must save my people now. Thank you for warning me of this danger."


    "I apologise for the inconvenience, Axsel." Ojor says. "For your sake, I hope you succeed."


    "Commander Allard, the recruits are preparing for training now, sir."


    "Good." Daven says. "We must be ready when the rebels come. How many men have we recruited so far, captain Kellistar?"


    "We have added two hundred men to our ranks, sir." Kellistar says. We have a few more men than before the Goblin invasion. The workshops are working on the restocking of our armoury as we speak."


    "A little over two hundred men will not do, captain." Daven says. "From what I have heard, the enemy will be hear with at least triple that number."


    "But we will be defending the bridge, sir." Kellistar says. "There is little numbers can do at this spot."


    "Do not be blinded by our victory over the Goblins, captain." Daven says. "Goblins lack strategy and so few men can defend against a horde. Humans are harder to kill. We should expect to lose at least one man per two enemies we slay. That way are defences are studier. We need another two hundred recruits!"


    "Yes, sir." The captain says, heading out to deliver the orders.


    The tent opens and Maxwell steps in.


    "I was expecting to find you on the Allard training ground, practicing." He says. "I could nit have possibly imagined you sitting in a tent next to the main gate. Have you been home since the Goblin attack at all?"


    "I slept the day we last talked, Maxwell." Daven responds. "After that I have slept here, closer to my men."


    "An honourable leader you are, Daven." Maxwells says. "However, we will need a clever leader to win the war that lies ahead. Are you sure you are capable of handling the tasks at hand."


    "I am an Allard, Maxwell." Daven says. "We were born and bred for the protection of Oliron. So, what brings you to my tent this early in the morning?"


    "I am hear to assert the status of our defence." Maxwell says. "I am pleased with the progress you have made, but I do hope you realise it is not yet enough."


    "Yes, I do know, Maxwell." Daven says. "Actually, I plan on checking the new equipment at the workshop. Why don''t you join me?"


    "Since I have the time, I might as well." Maxwell says. "When are we headed?"


    "Right after my conversation with you is over." Daven says, walking past Maxwell out of the tent. Maxwell hurriedly follows.


    A woman carrying a bucket passes closely by the two men as they exit.


    "I do hate the smell of shit in the morning..." Maxwell says.


    "Records state that in the past it was far worse, before the pit system." Daven says. "Rather than throwing it into the pits, people would throw it out onto the streets."


    "I guess." Maxwell says. "That was a truly exceptional way of dealing with the problem. Farmers can even use for fertilisation."


    "I did read a disturbing fact about the creation of the pits." Daven says. "Apparently, shortly after their creation, the lake around the city of Oliron turned green."


    "Well, it is no longer green now." Maxwell states.


    "But it also lacks fish." Daven says. "This was not the case before the lake turned green."


    "The workshop is just ahead." Maxwell says. "Let us focus on the matter at hand."


    "Sure." Daven says.


    They enter a crowded building. The temperature is high and people are consistently running past each other.


    "We will visit the ironworks first, Maxwell." Daven says. "Try to keep up."


    The forges are blazing with fire. The heat is even worse here. A man with a sleeveless shirt walks up to Daven."


    "What''s up, boss?" He says.


    "Just checking in on your progress." Daven says. "How are the weapons coming along?"


    "Well, we are producing spear tips at full speed, but I fear the boys down at the woodworks are incapable of keeping up..." The man says. "At the rate we are going now, the spear tips and arrow tips will be finished in two weeks, but they will lack any wood."


    "I will speak to the men downstairs." Daven says. "Keep up the good work."


    "Yes, sir!" The man says. "Oh, and that special request you handed in will be done around that same time."


    "Good." Daven says walking away while waving.


    "Special request?" Maxwell asks. "What are you spending our resources on?"


    "A new weapon for myself." Daven says. "It is customary for an Allard to get a special weapon forged after being elected commander."


    "Where are we going next, commander?" Maxwell says with a hint of sarcasm.


    "Down." Daven says. "It is best we assess the woodworks before we head to assembly."


    The two men walk to the back of the building, where the stairs are located. It is a lot darker, since no forges light the rooms. Hammer and saws can be heard consistently.


    "What can we do for you, sir?" An older man asks.


    "I''ve come to assess your progress." Daven says.


    "Ah, yes..." The man says. "Well, you see, sir, we just don''t have enough wood to supply the forges with parts. The city of Oliron alone simply doesn''t have enough lumberjacks. We can only produce half to amount you still require and that would be stretching the supply."


    "Those weapons are vital for our defences!" Maxwell says. "Nothing matters after the city falls. Our best course of action, Daven, would be to acquire any wood we require from the city itself. We don''t need lumberjacks for that. These men down here should do fine."


    "You would have carpenters move through peoples houses stripping them of wood?" Daven says. "The people will be outraged."


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident."The people will be outraged if we can''t stop this rebellion, Daven." Maxwell says. "You must see that the safety of the city goes beyond a cupboard someone never uses."


    "But if the people within our walls rebel against us..." Daven begins.


    "Most of those people work in the mines." Maxwell says. "Whoever doesn''t is either in the military, or one of a handful of merchants. As long as we stay away from the houses owned by our garrison, the resistance within the city should be low. We need those weapons, Daven."


    "I see your point..." Daven says.


    "I am sorry, but if you feel incapable of deciding on this matter, I will give the order myself, for it is my duty to protect this land as head of the council." Maxwell says.


    "Fine!" Daven says. "I will give the order. It is my duty as an Allard to protect this town and I will. Even if that means we tear it apart first..."


    Regret echoes in Davens voice.


    "We best continue, Daven." Maxwell says. "The leather works and assembly may have something interesting to report."


    Jallash Hellenshir Alacktirs, one of the oldest Atracarians, is wondering alone through the snow fields south of the beautiful city, Callish Reclis, commonly known as Snow Peak. The city is surrounded by mountains covered in the purest of white snow. Canyons run to the city on all side of the compass. To the south lie the Frozen Forest. Through every other canyon the other Nothern Great Cities.


    Jallash soon decides that this beautifully sunny afternoon is perfectly fit for him to sleep, so he lets himself down on the snow. The cold has never bothered Atracarians. For birth until the rest of eternity an Atracarian would live in the cold. Jallash dozes off slowly and he soon finds himself on a vast plain of the purest white.


    "What god summons me from my sleep!" He yells.


    "No need to be rude." Fake says, appearing before the Atracarian.


    "A human god?" Jallash says. "A human god has no business with an Atracarian. Goodbye!"


    "Oh, surely you would not leave so soon." Fake says. "You are the one they call ''the curious'' are you not. It is what your middle name is for after all. However, if you do not feel even the least bit curious as to why a human god would summon an Atracarian, then by all means, leave."


    Jallash hesitates. This is a highly unusual situation indeed. Their would normally be no reason for another race''s god to interact with the Atracarians. Since Suntrius is dead, Atracarians never enter the god''s realm because of this very reason.


    "Alright, you got me." Jallash says. "Why does a human god approach an Atracarian?"


    "Please, call me fake." Fake says.


    "How very unusual." Jallash says. "A got introducing himself with his title alone. I do believe you are the god they call Axsel, correct?"


    "That is indeed the name some know me by." Fake says. "Now, my business here. I have come here to bestow upon you a quest of the utmost importance."


    "You want me to do you a favour." Jallash asks in surprise. "You turn out to be more boring than you look. I am leaving."


    "Just here what I have to say, Atracarian, and maybe you will change your mind." Fake says. "Have you ever seen a materialised ingot of interriftal energy?"


    "Creating matter is already something that is beyond even the gods." Jallash laughs. "I am sure you are well aware of this. Let alone condensing interriftal energy into something solid."


    "As a matter of fact, I am not aware of this limitation." Axsel says. "I myself am rather capable of creating complex object with only interriftal energy."


    "I will need proof to believe you." Jallash says.


    "All I need from you is to retrieve the piece and isolate it where no living thing can touch it." Archil says. "This entire world will fall if that doesn''t happen."


    "Am I not also a living creature?" Jallash asks.


    "An Atracarian''s soul is small and highly capable of magic." Fake says. "This will minimise your reaction with the ingot. Other living things would syphon energy through the crystal, emitting vast waves of energy that a certain threat will follow back to its source. Where a normal creature would emit a beacon the size of the sun, an Atracarian would only emit as much as a small forest fire."


    "So this ingot enhances magical potential?" Jallash asks.


    "Yes, but at the cost of the planet." Fake says.


    "Fascinating." Jallash says. "Where will it land?"


    "Just north of the Frozen Forests." Fake says. "I will help you find the spot."


    "But I will be unable to speak with you after I leave." Jallash says.


    "I assure you that it will not be a problem." Fake says as the dream fades.


    Jallash wakes with a small layer of frost covering his cloak. Fake stands over him, smiling.


    "I thought the dream faded?" Jallash says.


    "It did." Fake says. "Come along!"


    Jallash gets up and starts walking after fake.


    "How are you here?" Jallash says.


    "Yes, you are a curious one, aren''t you?" Fake says. "I am here because I made myself a vessel."


    "But even if you could create matter from interriftal energy, you still wouldn''t be able to create a living and functioning body." Jallash says in confusion.


    "Yet here I stand." Fake says. "I merely copy the patterns of energy I see within an object. Occasionally this does result in an unfortunate mistake, but generally a vessel like this is functional."


    "What an intriguing god you are..." Jallash says, shaking his head.


    After an hour of walking fake stops.


    "We''re here." Fake says, closing his eyes.


    "So why is it landing in Reclar Ipsellenshir Atracur?" Jallash asks.


    "Reclar Ips... Ah, those are what we call the Northern Great Cities, is it not?" Fake says. "The Atracarian language never seizes to confuse me."


    "So why is it landing here?" Jallash asks again, annoyed.


    "Just by chance I think." Fake says. "It could have landed anywhere really. Maybe even nowhere at all, but unfortunately that is not the case. Let''s see... Where will it land exactly?"


    Fake suddenly becomes very pale.


    "Too close." He yells, running away from the spot. The sky suddenly becomes brighter as a ball of fire descends from the sky.


    "Run, you stupid Atracarian." Fake yells. "No matter your sorcery, that thing will still fry you."


    Jallash starts to feel the heat now and decides to finally follow fake. Moment later the fireball hits a spot ten meters away from the spot he stood at. The ground cracks and dents. A big hole marks the impact.


    Fake comes running back.


    "Grab it!" He yells.


    Jallash does as he is told, jumping into the crater. This turns out the be an awful idea, as Atracarians may be highly resistant to cold, they are just as weak to heat. Grabbing the stone, the Atracarian burns both of his hands. He yells our in pain.


    "Careful, it may still..." Fake''s voice trails off as he arrives at the edge of the crater and sees the Atracarian with the ingot in both of his hands. "Well done. Now, step two."


    "You just made me burn my hands..." Jallash says in disbelieve. "I listened to you and you get me burned."


    "Man up?" Fake tries. "No... How does one say that? Anyway, we can''t stop here. Good job still holding that. If you drop it we might all soon perish."


    "What do we do next?" Jallash asks, still annoyed.


    Fake notices Jallash''s cloak burning and quickly steps on the starting fire.


    "Now we put that somewhere no one can find it." He says. "Preferably underwater."


    "Underwater?" Jallash asks, surprised. "I am no sea creature! I will travel to the island west of Atracaria. There I shall hide this ingot."


    "People may find it their!" Fake protests.


    "I will stay there to guard it." Jallash says.


    "Underwater is still better." Fake says.


    "See you in time, human god..." Jallash says, leaving. "I will build myself a little temple their. Be sure to keep me posted on events outside."


    "You just want to study it, don''t you?" Fake asks.


    "Would I truly be as irresponsible?" Jallash asks, laughing.


    "I fear as much..." Fake says.


    "Are ready, Fenwick?" Xandrien asks.


    "Yes, I do believe so." Fenwick says. "With the supplies from Taere we are capable of maintaining a long siege and the men are eager for a fight. Your work three weeks ago truly paid off."


    "Good to hear." Xandrien says. "Do you think we have a chance at taking the walls of Oliron?"


    "The walls of Oliron are the strongest defence their is, as we can only have so many attack it at the same time." Fenwick says. "I have a plan that might serve us well however."


    "Do you mind sharing it with me?" Xandrien asks. "I may be able to help."


    "No, their are still too many flaws in it." Fenwick says. "I will tell you when it is a more practical state."


    "Well, you best prepare it fast." Xandrien says. "As you know, we march tomorrow."

 (14) At the Gates

    Three weeks have passed since the attack on Taere. Supply lines have now been established and the men are eager for combat.


    "The hills leading up to the bridge is perfect cover for our camp." Fenwick says. "Let''s get the supplies here!"


    "I do worry about a possible Goblin force to approach from south." Xandrien says. "If they decide to attack us, we won''t be able to properly defend ourselves. Not without a wall."


    "While you two were up north, I decided to train a special group equipped with a wide assortment of fire weapons." Fenwick says. "We should be fairly save from their attacks. We should combat ready by nightfall."


    "That''s good." Xandrien says. "How is your plan coming along?"


    "I have a feeling it might just work." Fenwick says. "I''ll tell you at nightfall. Some of my men are gathering supplies as we speak."


    "I''ll help construct the camp." Xandrien says, walking away. "Have you seen Gilbert?"


    "No." Fenwick yells after him. "I think he is helping build the tents."


    After a few minutes of walking past half-build tents Xandrien finally finds Gilbert.


    "Gilbert." Xandrien says.


    "Xandrien." Gilbert says. "Helps us out a bit here. The command tent isn''t going to build itself."


    Xandrien walks up to the tent and a few minutes later the large tent was ready for use.


    "Any idea where the others are?" Gilbert asks.


    "Fenwick is on that hill to the north of us." Xandrien says. "I have no clue where Meckrin or Tevron are though."


    "They should be around here somewhere." Gilbert says. "Can you believe we will finally accomplish what Archil tried to do. Oliron will be free."


    "Indeed..." Xandrien says. "We are not quite there yet, my friend. We can celebrate after taking the city."


    "One last adventure?" Gilbert asks.


    "Yes, one last adventure..." Xandrien says.


    "Welcome, gentlemen." Fenwick says. "Tomorrow morning we will commence our attack. I will now explain the details of the assault with you. First of all, Gilbert, you will not participate in tomorrows attack."


    "What?" Gilbert says in surprise. "What do you..."


    "I fear that on the field you would be too much of a liability." Fenwick explains. "If you fall the men might lose moral and flee. I cannot let that risk exist."


    "Very well." Gilbert says, disappointed.


    "We will march across the bridge." Fenwick says. "We will move slowly, using a shield wall to cover our advance from archer fire. In between our men we will be carrying a large log. We will use this to break through the gate. Xandrien, you will stay at the beginning of the bridge. If a hostile mage shows up, we need you ready."


    "Sure." Xandrien says.


    "Why don''t we simply use his magic to break the gate?" Tevron asks. "It would save us a lot of trouble."


    "And risk losing our only mage in the process?" Fenwick asks. "Tevron, if we run into a hostile mage we need Xandrien to stand a chance. Also, Tevron, you will be leading the first wave."


    "How confident are you in the shield wall?" Tevron asks.


    "Very." Fenwick says. "Their arrows should not be capable of piercing the shields. After Tevron takes the gate, my men in the cavalry will charge across the bridge and secure the rest of the wall. If Tevron fails on the other hand, I will lead the second wave. Should I fall with my men, then retreat and wait the enemy out. Use the anti Goblin groups to deter their attack before launching a counter attack. Gilbert, in that scenario you will lead the army. Does everyone know what to do?"


    "I am still convinced that the mage can break the gate at a distance." Tevron says. "The confusion would be perfect to overrun their defences."


    "And we would enter the city only to get blown to bits by their mage." Fenwick says. "Breaking the wall would cost too much energy. We need Xandrien at full strength."


    "Why do you assume they have one?" Tevron asks, angrily.


    "Because, if I don''t, while they do have a mage, it will get us all killed." Fenwick explains. "I would rather lose a few extra men than risk the entire army."


    "I see your point..." Tevron says. "I still don''t like the fact that we would risk the lives of soldiers, while we can do the same with less casualties."


    "I agree with Fenwick, Tevron." Meckrin says. "It would be devastating to lose the entire assault and our mage. I would like you to agree, especially since you will lead the first assault."


    Tevron looks at Meckrin surprised and stops arguing.


    "If you think so too, Meckrin..." Tevron says. "I appear to have been outvoted."


    "I will see you all at down on the hill south of Oliron." Fenwick says. "Now we best get some rest before tomorrow. Tevron, would you brief the men on the plan so we can begin our assault as soon as the sun rises."


    "Will do." Tevron says, moving out of the tent.


    "Avon, come in here!" Fenwick yells.


    "Sir?" Avon asks, walking into the tent.


    "I assume you heard the roll I want the cavalry the play in this, since you were guarding the tent." Fenwick says.


    "Yes, sir." Avon says. "I am to lead the cavalry across the bridge."


    "I am counting on you and that big axe of yours." Fenwicks says.


    "When do you suspect they will attack, captain?" Daven asks.


    "They have spent the night beyond the hill, sir." Kellistar answers. "They could attack now, or they may try and starves us out. That would be unlikely though as I suspect that most of the northern farmers are among their ranks."


    "We best prepare for an attack in the morning, captain." Daven says. "Are the men ready?"


    "Most of our soldiers are here, but some failed to arrive on time." Kellistar says. "We are armed and ready, but some of the men are tired as they hardly slept tonight."


    "I see." Daven says. "It is unfortunate that we had to prepare our defences overnight as there is no way to properly predict when the enemy will chose to attack."


    "Our scouts have estimated their numbers to be near the three thousand." Kellistar says. "Most are simple farmers, but a few are well armed and properly trained. The bridge should provide us with the advantage we need however. I think we should worry little about their numbers."


    "Four hundred men hold a wall against three thousand." Daven says. "Those are not the best odds..."


    "We have trained, sir." Kellistar protests. "We are ready for combat. They are simple farmers, who never held a spear in their lives!"


    "What do you think those farmers were up to these past few weeks." Daven says. "Might I remind you, our forces count more miners than actual warriors. A few of these men have seen combat. Combat against Goblins, captain. "None of these men are truly prepared to face men. I just hope your optimism is well placed, captain, because I fear the worst."


    "Sir, the enemy is on the move!" A running soldier reports.


    "To your positions, men!" Daven yells. "This is what we trained for. We will hold these gates so our families will remain save from these brutes that would attack our home! Prepare yourselves!"


    Men hastily hurry to man the wall. Two hundred men, split in two lines, man the first group. One hundred of them are trained in archery and prepare their bows. Behind the first group, another group of soldiers stands. A few gaps within their ranks betray the absence of a few among them. As the first group takes casualties, the second group will mend the breaches.


    A loud war cry echoes across the lake. The men on the wall fall silent as a wall of wooden shields marches onto the bridge.


    "What is that?" Kellistar asks.


    "Something to stop our arrows." Daven says as he is familiar with shields. "It is rare to see shields in use though. Archers, prepare to fire!"


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The archer draw their bows.


    "Fire!" Daven yells.


    A hundred arrows fill the sky and rush towards the oncoming wall of wood. Half of the arrows misses and splash into the water harmlessly. The other half finds its mark. The arrows crash into the crudely made shields. A few shatter on impact, others cause the wielder to buckle and fall over. Gapes among the ranks are filled quickly, however, and the wall moves ever forward. The men on the wall can hear the men march now. Every step clearly audible. A man can be heard, yelling to signify the pace.


    The men on the wall start to waver.


    "Stand your ground, men!" Daven says. "We are the only thing between them and our families. For Oliron!"


    The wavering men reluctantly regroup and hold the line.


    "Fire!" Daven yells again.


    Another swarm of arrows fills the air. The result isn''t changed however and the wall continues its march. Suddenly, as the marching grows louder, the bridge starts to wave. It cracks loudly and the men forming the shield wall lose their balance. As the group comes to a halt, the waving subsides. The men quickly reform their formation.


    "Walk at your own pace!" Tevron yells.


    "The bridge waved along with their march..." Kellistar says. "What in the world..."


    "Focus, captain." Daven says. "Fire!"


    The shield wall is now close enough for Daven to be able to count the men. The formation is eight men wide, but something strange happens further back. Three lines back the shields arch up as if to protect something bigger.


    "Why are they moving so slowly?" Daven says. "They could have charged the wall and have lost the same number of men. Why would they chose not to?"


    "Maybe they had the illusion this would save more lives." Kellistar says.


    "Maybe..." Daven says, not convinced.


    The formation has now reached the end of the bridge.


    "Charge!" Tevron yells.


    The formation opens and a group of soldier, covered by shields, charges at the gates. They are closely followed by a bigger group of soldiers.


    "A ram!" Daven says. "Brace the gate!"


    A group of soldiers rushes forward and slams into the inner side of the gate. A moment later all of them are thrown back by an impact on the other side. Daven jumps down to help the men brace the gate.


    Another impact and the door cracks loudly. The hinges start to buckle.


    "Archer, fire at will!" Kellistar yells. "Target the men operating the ram!"


    The line of archers rushes forwards to aim over the wall.


    "Archers, now!" Tevron yells.


    The rear of the attacking group folds away its shield wall revealing a large group of archers. They shoot a volley at the men on the wall and decimate the defending archers. At least half of the defending archers dies in a single volley. Kellistar takes cover behind the wall and breaks the back of the arrow stuck in his shoulder.


    Another impact tosses the defending forces backwards as the door begins to break.


    "Hold, men, hold!" Daven yells unaware of the situation above him.


    "Once more, men!" Tevron yells from the other side of the gate.


    The gate breaks of its hinges, crushing an unlucky few.


    "Charge!" Daven yells as he leads his men out of the gate.


    He catches the enemy of guard with this tactic and kills the men who operated the ram. The enemy must have had close to a thousand men at the start of their march, but bow this number was already reduced to eight hundred, because of the constant archer fire. All one hundred of Daven''s melee fighter joins him in this desperate charges. Men are dying all around Daven, friend and foe. Soon Daven spots a taller man with a big sword killing all who face him. Daven tightens his grip on his spear made fully out of iron and decorated brilliantly by the workshop. He charges the tall man.


    Tevron notices the young commander and prepares to face him. He decides to simply cleave his opponents spear in half, before cleaving his head off. Daven approaches and Tevron swings his heavy sword at him, expecting to break Daven''s spear. Daven blocks the blow, but, to Tevron''s surprise, the spear doesn''t break. Tevron realises his mistake the late as Daven turns his block into a killing blow, thrusting the tip deep into Tevron''s neck. The old commander gurgles for a few second, clasping at the gaping wound. Quickly the life fades from his eyes and he falls over.


    Daven''s men are pushing the enemy back now. The unexpected counterattack worked better than Daven could have ever hoped and with their commander gone, the enemy had nothing left to instruct them. For a moment Daven believed in victory. This believe was smashed when an enemy group of horsemen smashed through his lines. Before Daven even realises what happened, an axe plants itself in his chest. Daven keels over backwards, dead.


    Kellistar rushes out of the gate, followed by the other spearmen. Just as he prepares to charge and avenge his fallen commander, a rain of arrows kills most of his men. Another volley hits the top of the wall, killing most of the reinforcing archers.


    Fenwick has lead the second wave across the bridge and his archers had done their jobs perfectly.


    "To the city!" Fenwick yells.


    Kellistar retreats and soon finds himself in the city. He is quickly surround, but he still manages to bring himself to higher ground by standing on one of the sewage wells. Unfortunately these are not made to be stood on and so, as a soldier charges at him, the wood cracks and both fall down into the dark depths. A fading scream can be heard as both men plumed to their deaths.


    The fight is over.


    "It would appear I have won, Maxwell." Fake laughs.


    "It might not have been that way, Axsel, had you not kept me in this tower." Maxwell says. "I could have helped them. I could have saved the cause."


    "That would be your cause, not mine." Fake says. "I kept you here to keep you from interfering, as I am sure you understand. What is that altar for anyway?"


    "That does not concern you!" Maxwell yells, becoming paler. "You have won. Leave while you are ahead, Axsel."


    Fake looks around and suddenly he notices the rising stacks of stones. Fake laughs loudly.


    "I can''t believe it." He says. "After all I did to this tower it can still be rebuild? Arthfael is truly one of the greatest gods."


    "Leave now!" Maxwell says.


    "How can I leave while you still exist here?" Fake says. "For all I know you will now proceed to kill all humans."


    "Fine, I will leave first." Maxwell says, closing his eyes.


    Panic flashes across his face.


    "Brother, what have you done?" He says. "Why can''t I leave?"


    "It isn''t as simple as that, brother." Fake says. "In time, you and Arthfael would find a way to enslave humanity again and we would have to do this all over again. I, on the other hand, have a better future in mind."


    "You little..." Maxwell starts. Before he can finish he is flung through the air onto the altar.


    "Funny thing about gods inhabiting a human body for prolonged periods of time." Fake says. "The body becomes so charge, it can be manipulated freely by other gods. Goodbye, brother."


    Fake turns around and starts walking away. He then throws a now burning piece of wood over his shoulder onto Maxwell.


    "Brother, please." Maxwell yells in despair. "Please don''t do this."


    His pleading quickly turns to screaming as his soul burns with the body. Flames erupt and the altar breaks. The bricks forming the base of the tower separate and crack. A column of fire erupts into the sky.


    "Goodby, brother." Fake repeats.

 (15) Epilogue

    Now, twenty years later, I have told you all about the revolution releasing mankind from Arthfeal, but it would seem that he would have me destroy my work. He has ordered me to destroy this very writing, so it might not inspire other to rise against the gods. I refuse however. I am here for one task alone. If he would not even let me perform my duty as an observer, then I fear I cannot follow him further. I will soon describe the confrontation as I have asked fake to assist me in this matter.


    "Twenty years, Axsel!" Arthfael says. "For twenty years you hid yourself from me and now you show yourself. Are you that eager to get hurt?"


    "Don''t worry about me, Arthfael." Fake says. "I am here on behalf of Lycon, as he is the one human still ruled by you."


    "The humans have destroyed my temples..." Arthfael says. "Their believe in me has faded completely, because of you! You will suffer for what you did to me!"


    "It is you who will suffer, Arthfael." I say. "The power you still possess is too weak to handle the both of us."


    "Did he tell you that?" Arthfael laughs. "My power hasn''t diminished even one bit. I am still as powerful as I was back before I was trapped here! I have had enough of you."


    Arthfeal rushes forwards and punches me in the chest. Even though we do not have physical bodies, we can still reform the other person as too simulate a punches. This is accompanied by a jolt of pain.


    I attempt to return the favour, but I am simply to weak to move Arthfeal and my fist passes right through.


    "Do you see how foolish you are?" Arthfeal says. "Get back to your duties, Lycon. You cannot win this fight."


    "Oh, but that has a simple reason." Fake says. "Lycon thinks it is his mental strength that lacks control and so he can''t harm you. He should realise however that that is not the whole truth. You see, Lycon, we gods can only manipulate our own being. In order to manipulate another god you need to ''infect'' him with your soul. Arthfael has been doing this to you since day one, so he can easily manipulate you."


    "An excellent understanding you have, Axsel." Arthfael praises. "Too bad for you, that it will not matter though."


    "On the contrary, Arthfael." Fake says. "I won this fight before it even began. When fighting Maxwell twenty years ago I had done the same thing."


    Fake raises his arms and Arthfael''s form begins to fall apart.


    "What?" Arthfael says in surprise. "How are you..."


    "Every time we met I have been adding my essence to yours, Arthfael." Fake says. "This fight is over."


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "No!" Arthfael says. "I will protect the world from humanity! My race is extinct because humanity needed to live on Oliron so badly. Isn''t that right, Lycon?"


    "We did invade the island to make room for more humans..." I say. "That was something the Pentilians could no longer provide. We took Oliron and, as payment, the entire human population living on the Pentilians died to an unidentifiable sickness. We should never have started praying to the god of a defeated race, but it gave us a sense of origin."


    "Humanity proved itself a threat." Arthfael says. "I am all that stands between the world and that threat."


    "And this is where that ends." Fake says slowly.


    "Axsel!" Arthfael yells, running at fake.


    Too late Arthfael has realised his mistake. Years had gone by without him even noticing his imminent defeat.


    Deep in the forests of Oliron, Arthfael opens his eyes. They are not his eyes, however. Wind swirls around him as he struggles to remain within the ball of fat serving as his vessel. He slowly rolls it outside and finds himself in the Goblin camp. As he exits the shelter other Goblins bow down to him. For a second Arthfael feels in charge again. Panic spreads across the camp as the light of the sun starts appearing over the treetops.


    Arthfael realises he should move and he tries, but his heavy body has already started sinking into the soil. He can''t maintain his soul and move the body at the same time. He simply sits their, waiting for the sun.


    After a few minutes the sun has reaches him. Fire erupts all over his body. Arthfael tries with all his might to keep his soul from reacting. Fake is blocking him from leaving the vessel. Panic overwhelms Arthfael as the he starts to lose his soul to the flames. He loses all control. He explodes in the middle of the Goblin camp. The fire consumes all around it and soon, no Goblin is left alive on Oliron. All that remains is a big scorched crater on the place where the protector of Ataria met his end.


    End


    (Auther''s note: Thank you for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did and know that I have started writing the second story on Ataria.


    (The Pentilian: http://royalroadl.com/fiction/4212</a>) . Also have a look at a few stories some of my friends wrote (only one at the moment): Brink (www.royalroadl.com/</a>fiction/3355).


    The Henders Conflict (http://royalroadl.com/fiction/4211</a>))