ã€ŠLiberty &amp; Deathã€‹


 Flashbulb [PRE PROFESSIONAL EDIT]

    The lonely man stood and watched with fear

    As the flashbulb danced, as the flame came near

    Leering in the cloud of which he foolishly made

    A face of pure cruelty began to fade

    With a grin so wide as to swallow the stars

    The man did weep from the pain in his heart

    The lights din left, a new weapon unfurls

    ¡°Now I am become death; the destroyer of worlds¡±

    Chapter 1: Flashbulb

    The sun bore down, heat pressing into my skin. Beads of sweat rolled off my brow, sinking into the grass. Overhead, a blue sky, scattered with clouds, stretched endlessly. A cool breeze swept past, stirring something deep inside me¡ªpeace. Real peace. The kind I hadn¡¯t felt in years. For the first time in ages I felt at ease, without any concerns. Then, like a snapped thread, it was gone. A chill ran down my spine, my heart pounded.

    ¡°Where¡­ am I?¡±

    I pushed myself up, but my arm wobbled and collapsed beneath me, sending me back to the ground.

    ¡°Damn. What the hell is wrong with me?¡±

    I tried getting up again, and that time managed to rise, though only to my knees.

    ¡°What the hell happened? W-where am I?¡±

    I grew considerably stressed, nothing made sense. I tried rising to stand again, but it was useless. I was just too weak, so I sat back down instead.

    ¡°Looks like I''m not going anywhere right now. Might as well enjoy the weather, and gather my bearings.¡±

    I sat there, soaking in the sunlight and the wind upon my face. My hair reflected the rays, it looked like the flashing of gold. My clothes had been dirtied. Covered with grass stains and the soil of the earth from laying down. My tan slacks, along with my sweater vest, were gifts from my mother back before my last tour in Brazil. She would probably have chewed me out for letting them get all stained like that. The dark brown holster on my side snugly fit my pistol, it had seen better days but could still do its job. I was relieved it was still there as I rubbed my fingers against its rough outer hide.

    ¡°Wherever this is, it¡¯s beautiful.¡±

    I stared at the sky, letting my thoughts drift with the clouds. Maybe it was heaven? No. What kind of fool god would let me through the gates?

    I was like that for a long while, and without realizing it, began to drift into unconsciousness again. I felt the thud of my head on the ground, but did not react, I was too tired to do anything. The scent of the grass filled me with a feeling of comfort, the breeze was a slow and constant cooling like a fan blowing in a barracks.

    It had been several hours, I assumed, when I finally woke up from that slumber. The sun-rays had been replaced with long shadows cast upon the nearby trees. An orange hue had painted over the once ocean blue sky, and the previously puffy white clouds were then a cotton candy pink. I needed to get up, but had noticed that my body was even weaker than before, and as I attempted to sit up, found myself unable to do so. So I Just laid there, watching the sky pass me by, and the beginning twinkle of the stars started to reveal themselves. A short time passed but soon I heard some rustling coming from somewhere nearby. I looked around, moving my head to the best of my ability, I thumbed the brass button of my holster, and my eyes finally focused on a small bush not too far from where I lay.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡±

    I croaked, in a whispering voice, barely audible. My throat hurt, it was unusually dry, like I hadn''t drank in days.

    ¡°I said who''s there?!¡±

    The pain shot through my throat like stabbing needles, I winced. My yell startled whatever was in the bush, the rustling stopped for a moment and some time passed. It felt like hours, but it was only a brief moment of silence. The rustling was replaced with twig snaps, and soon, something new came into my view.

    She stepped into the clearing, bathed in the last golden light of the sun. A pine-green dress swayed around her knees, her chestnut hair curling in the breeze. Her lips¡ªdeep crimson¡ªtilted into something unreadable. But her eyes... they were something else. Green, brilliant, shimmering like fireflies on water. Otherworldly. The head of flowing hair, coming down to her waist, was bouncy and finely cared for. But what caught my eye immediately was her ears. They were pointed and long, like an elf in some fairy tale. But she was very much real.

    I was absolutely mesmerized by her beauty, and her standing there in the evening breeze showered by the last rays of the setting sun, made her look like a forest goddess.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    I snapped out of my fascination, and blinked a few times to make sure I was not hallucinating. I blankly stared up at her with a more conscious vision.

    ¡°W-what was that?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I asked if you were alright, you seem hurt¡±.

    I looked down at my body, and tried to move my legs to sit up like earlier, and found no change in my condition.

    ¡°Something''s wrong with my legs," I admitted. "I can¡¯t move them. They feel... numb."

    She walked over, and knelt down to examine my limbs. Her touch was gentle and warm, she pressed and prodded my legs, my arms and lastly my chest. Wasn''t too thrilled with having a stranger poke me, but she wasn''t armed from what I could see, so would have been a minimum threat had she been one.

    "It looks like you''ve been poisoned¡ªparalysis, most likely."

    My eyes widened, ¡°Am I going to die from this?¡±

    The panic in my voice was evident, but I was trying to keep at least some control over my fear. She was not perturbed by my question in the slightest, she simply looked at me. She had a thoughtful smile and her eyes were soft but focused,

    ¡°No, you wont die from this, even if it was untreated.¡±

    I let out a sigh of relief, only to then be torn from it with her next sentence,

    ¡°though after eighteen full hours you would be permanently paralyzed¡±.

    I looked at her incredulously, hoping that what she had just said was imagined.

    ¡°So i¡¯m going to be like this fore-¡±

    She burst out laughing, but not in a mocking tone, it was gay and amused.

    ¡°No, no nothing like that, you still have plenty of time before that happens.¡±

    She stood up and brushed herself off.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to get my father and brother, they will help treat you.¡±

    I locked eyes with her, and nodded.

    ¡°Thank you, um-¡± I paused, ¡°What''s your name?¡±

    She smiled before turning to walk away, never answering my question. As she walked back into the forest, I laid there looking up at the sky again, the stars were more numerous now than before, and every shining light in that black void reminded me of those gorgeous green eyes which that woman had.

    ¡°Man, what a day¡± I muttered to myself.

    It was a strange one¡ªI woke up in a clearing, weak and disoriented, and met a beautiful woman who never even gave her name. I thought that maybe it really was some kind of heaven, but the thought of the paralysis poison made me second guess this in the next moment. If only I had some smokes on me, it would have been a nearly perfect day.

    I passed out some time later, and woke back up in a bed. As I surveyed my surroundings, what I saw was a well kempt room. A bookcase on the opposite side of it, neatly ordered and with all of its many tomes straightened. Thick fur blankets covered me, trapping warmth against my aching body. My head sank into a feather-stuffed pillow¡ªsofter than anything I''d felt in a long while. There was a fireplace near the bookcase which was lit, and on the above mantle sat several picture frames, whos pictures within were too distant to see from where I was. And beside me, a bedside table, a chair, and an old man staring down at me.

    This last sight caused me to jump back, and in my panic banged my head against the headboard. As I did so, The man became wide eyed, and put up his hands placatingly.

    ¡°Please, please¡± he began, ¡°settle down, you''re safe¡±.

    I regained control over my fight or flight response, and complied for the moment. I took in the man¡¯s appearance, he was elderly but had a youthful energy about him. His face bore relatively few wrinkles despite his age, and was brilliantly emotive. His eyes were a dim grass green not unlike those of the woman I had met before but not as radiant nor as soft. His were colder, but not in an unkind manner, more like that of a man whose struggles had left him somber over the course of his history. His dark brown tunic made him look like a monk as he sat there, it went all the way down to his ankles, and both the collar and cuffs were gilded in silver thread, and like the woman before, he also had pointed ears.

    ¡°You were brought here to be treated the other day, I would not be surprised if you remember nothing.¡± the old man placed his hands in his lap and continued speaking, ¡°you have been resting for about half a week now.¡±

    I nodded. It all made sense now. This had to be her father¡ªhis age, his presence, his quiet authority. Matched that of a parent not necessarily a doctor.

    ¡°Where are we?¡± I asked.

    ¡°My and my family''s home,¡± he replied quite courteously.

    ¡°It¡¯s very organized¡±

    the old man laughed, ¡°That would be my daughters doing. She hates clutter.¡±

    I smiled, and then stopped. I realized that I had not introduced myself or thanked him and his family for helping me yet, normally I wouldn¡¯t be so rude, but the suddenness of my recent situation had caused a lapse in judgment. manners were important, not just in politeness but also in good first appearance, and gaining trust.

    ¡°I need to apologize¡±, I burst out suddenly.

    ¡°For what?¡± the old man, startled by my tone, jumped back a little in his chair.

    ¡°I haven''t even thanked you for saving me yet, and I''m just sitting here asking questions.¡±

    The old man regained his composure, and smiled warmly.

    ¡°You must be awfully good natured if that was your response to such a small lapse in manners. I think you and I will get along. But for now,¡±

    he stood up and walked over to the old fireplace, its flames burning low but still bore use.

    ¡°Let me make you and I something to drink.¡±

    I laid there, slightly embarrassed by my outburst and even more so for my own rudeness. It occurred to me that I would have to introduce myself to him by name, but I knew nothing about the area, and what''s worse I didn''t even know if I was still in the Free Territories let alone the Americas. It would be a gamble to go around using my real name, I could be among friends or enemies, though I had no doubt in my mind that the old man was a good person at least. I decided to think of a pseudonym to use, my first thought was to just pick a random name, but realized quickly that it would be a lot harder to remember just some random first name. My second and eventually successful idea was to pick a historical name, one belonging to some relatively old public figure political or otherwise. I figured that if I picked one distant enough, it could pass, so I began quickly analyzing my own knowledge in a panic. Ayn? No. How about Murray? That would be too on the nose. After a few more tries I gave up for the time being, and looked over to the old man. He was placing a hand fashioned kettle on a spit over the fireplace, it was an oddly crude set-up but I figured that if it worked then who am I to judge. To his left was the bookcase, I eyed the books, trying to read thespines. I couldn''t understand anything, they were in some other language, it resembled some bastardized variant of Cuneiform and Arabic, so I was completely at a loss. Just then, a glimmer caught my eye. I spied above the bookcase and saw that on top of the piece were several vials and jars filled with liquids. A blue one, another filled with a crimson red sludge, and lastly a bottle with some dark yellowish fluid. This last one looked like it was just yellow water with sparkles in it, this had been the one that caught my eye it seemed. That''s when it hit me, my mind wandered back to pseudonyms and my brain put the bottle and names together almost on its own.

    ¡°Goldwater¡± I said aloud without realizing it, and the man turned back to me.

    ¡°What was that young man?¡±

    I snapped back to the immediate present and turned to him, embarrassed slightly by my mumbling. But I decided to simply go with the name at that point, as I had nothing better.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°My name is Goldwater, sorry for being rude and not saying my name earlier¡±.

    The old man strolled back over and sat in his chair again, rubbing his left hand with his right, and smiling.

    ¡°Ah, well,¡± he began. ¡°My name is Malkolm, glad introductions are finally in order.¡±

    I smiled back, but then stopped as I happened to peer down at his hand, he had burned himself and either he or I hadn''t even noticed. The skin of his hand was beet red and cracked, as I looked at the wound he noticed my gaze and tried to cover it up with his sleeve.

    ¡°It''s nothing, just burned myself is all. You get clumsy at my age, so no need to be so worried, mister Goldwater.¡±

    I tried getting out of bed, but as my feet hit the floor and I attempted to stand, my legs gave out. I hit the floor hard, my knees scraping the wood beneath me. Malkolm, startled by my suddenness, began to help me to my feet.

    ¡°Sorry for scaring you there Malkolm, but I can''t just not help, you¡¯re hurt.¡±

    Malkolm and I looked at each other for a long while, the glint in his eyes was one of astonishment and sincerity. Clearly he had not thought I would offer help, rather be the one receiving it.

    ¡°Do you have any aloe vera, Malkolm?¡± His gaze turned to one of confusion,

    ¡°Aloe vera? Never heard of such a thing, I''m afraid. Is it a medicine of some kind?¡±

    ¡°Damn, Later I''ll help you get some. It¡¯s good for burns¡±.

    After aiding me to my feet, Malkolm let me go so that I could find my own balance.

    ¡°There you go, steady now¡± he said.

    The wooden floor felt smooth, polished on my soles, it had a texture less like regular wood and more as if it were some kind of tile or waxed linoleum.

    ¡°Thank you Malkolm, I think I got my balancing act under control. It''s good to be back on my feet.¡±

    ¡°Glad to help¡±, he replied. ¡°Now I think it would be best if you sat at the table in the other room while I prepare the coffee,¡±

    I stood there, puzzled, as I didn''t see any other room to go into.

    ¡°Malkolm,¡± I started, ¡°what other room?¡±

    He closed his eyes and chuckled softly,

    ¡°My fault,¡± he said, opening his eyes again, ¡°I forgot you are new here, we have houses where the rooms are connected on the outside.¡±

    he pointed to a door behind me, I had not noticed it before now, ¡°go outside and take a right, the door next to this one leads to the dining room.¡±

    He turned his back to me, walking to the fireplace once again as I took my leave and stood before the door. It was slightly taller than I, and made of the same wooden surface as the floor, it bore a lock made of wood and a handle just the same, but of a different kind than the door itself. I unlocked the bolt, and pulled the door open, the light hit me like a flashbang, my eyes could see nothing but a bright sunshine, dimly orange in its tint. I took a few steps forward, one foot in front of the other to the outside, and stopped. The light dimmed, my eyes adjusted, and before me was a sight to behold. I stood there on the porch area, two white and green marble arches above me, twisted with vines, grapes dangling from them loosely. But I ignored these things, for what caught my gaze was beyond them. Dozens of houses lay in front of me in a vast landscape, people going to-and-fro in their daily business, and beyond them; trees. Presumably hundreds of trees the size and girth of skyscrapers, titanic in size, going for as far as the eye could see, say for a single split where a paved road lay. Two of these giants had great swaths of their bark removed, revealing a light pinkish undercoating, and boasting equally massive ornate carvings.

    Both of these featured a woman, I presumed at the time that they were the same one. The first carving on the left hand side showed the woman triumphantly holding a sword towards the night sky, which was giving way to dawn. Her face was emotionally cold but had a steadfast hint about it, which fit so well with the armor she adorned. As she stood there, her feet touched the edge of a cliff, hugging it so tightly that you would think that she would fall off at any second. Overall it was a finely crafted masterpiece, and it was even more impressive given the style used, the lines were straight, the angles were precise, and the arches used for the sky and the sun looked like half disks. I stood in awe for a good long while before turning my attention to the second one, and my sense of astonishment was gradually replaced with curiosity, for the second one was in a completely different style and tone.

    The woman was now sitting upon a marble throne, she wore a long blue dress lined with emerald green streaks, and in her right hand she still held the sword as before. But the way she wielded the weapon was different, weaker. Her hand was posed so as to make it appear like the sword was about to slip out from her palm and fall to the ground below. All that kept it in place was her pinky and ring fingers, still clasping the hilt. The sword was finely detailed, the pommel was a dazzling shade of sapphire rounded by gold, the handle itself was silver. The woman''s face still contained that oddly stoic quality but with no trace of the previous pride, only a lonely dead stare. The whole carving was in a style that vaguely reminded me of old medieval pieces, not very good but not the worst either. The two works together were a clash of tones and ideas, but why I could not say at the time.

    I looked away, and to my right side, remembering that I was supposed to go into Malkolm¡¯s dining room. I turned, strode up to the door, and with a single motion pulled it open. There greeting me lay a large room with a dining table with several chairs, all wood as with everything else it seemed in the house. I entered past the entrance and closed the door behind me, finding myself looking around at the room. The chairs were plainly carved, as with the table, say for the addition of obvious sanding having been done to the tabletop. There were cabinets with stained glass windows, each bearing a symbol in that strange Arabic- like language from when I tried reading the book titles earlier. But I could see that each cabinet contained different things inside; cups, bowls, plates and the like. So I put two and two together, and figured that each window meant a different item went inside. It was strange, very different from what other people do.

    I saw another portal leading to a different room, it was a hallway, but decided to not investigate, it would be rude to snoop. Deciding that I had seen everything worth note in the room I sat down in one of the chairs and patiently waited.

    ¡°This is crazy,¡± I had thought to myself, ¡°Giant trees, waking up in the middle of nowhere, the people here look different somehow as well. I can¡¯t understand any of it, but I can''t let that get the best of me. I¡¯ll figure this out as I go.¡±

    I put my arms on the table, and rested my head, thinking. Tapping my foot against the ground as I did so.

    ¡°I remember sitting in my house, at least I think I was.¡±

    I tried to force myself to recollect, but my memory was clouded, like a haze had descended on my mind. Then it rushed back to me. The first thing I remembered was the heat, the pain was next. What followed lastly was the sound, or lack of it, and then nothing but the dark. That''s when I woke up on the ground.

    ¡°What the hell,¡±

    I muttered under my breath, I was starting to pant, to hyperventilate almost, as the memories began to finally wash over me. My own death flashed before my very eyes,

    ¡°those bastards.¡± I said, my voice raised, my fists clenched grabbing my shirt sleeves. ¡°Those good for nothing-¡±

    Just then the door opened, and I stopped talking. I tried to regain my composure to the best of my ability as Malkolm came around the corner. He was carrying a tray with the kettle from before atop it. Setting it down on the table he looked over to me, his expression was one of worry,

    ¡°Goldwater,¡± he started, ¡°are you alright?¡±

    I nodded, ¡°yes, I¡¯m fine, just thinking about your hand¡¯s burn is all.¡±

    I lied to him, but only to not bother him with my problems, he didn''t deserve to be bogged down with my returning memories.

    ¡°You are too kind for your own good young man,¡± he laughed, ¡°but if you want to help out a little, you can start by getting me four cups from the cabinet behind you.¡±

    I got up and started towards the cabinet,

    ¡°Right away mister Malkolm¡± I said.

    ¡°Mister?,¡± though I didn''t see it, he grinned, ¡°nobody around here calls me ¡®mister¡¯ anything except the shopkeeper down the road.¡±

    I opened the cabinet door gently, taking great care to avoid breaking the glass. Despite its apparent sturdiness, I wouldn''t take any risks by being clumsy,

    ¡°If they don''t call you mister,¡± I started as I took out the third cup, ¡°then what do they call you?¡±

    I took out the last cup after that and turned back to the table and Malkolm, making sure to not drop any of them.

    ¡°Oh they call me all sorts of things; the old magician, the old man, the old-,¡± he stopped for a second, his face scrunched, he was thinking. ¡°The old anything really, I suppose.¡±

    He finished as I set the cups down in front of him,

    ¡°That doesn''t seem too flattering,'''' I responded kindly.

    Malkolm took a rag out of his robe pocket and used it to tilt the kettle, pouring a hot viscous liquid into each cup one by one.

    ¡°It may not be flattering, but it''s true all the same,¡±

    He poured the last cup and replaced the kettle, putting the rag beside it. I looked down into my cup, and grimaced.

    ¡°Uhm-,¡± I started, trying to sound as polite as I could, ¡°Malkolm, what is this?¡±

    He looked puzzled for a moment, like I had just spoken in some other language.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    I pointed to the cup in front of me, as if to emphasize my point, ¡°this, what is it?¡±

    Malkolm picked up his cup, put it to his lips and tipped it back, taking a long gulp of the tar black semi-liquid. With a sigh of contentment, he put the now empty cup back on the table gently.

    ¡°It''s just coffee, I don''t see what the fuss is about¡±.

    I did my best impression of a genuine smile, as I raised my own cup to my lips. The hot sludge smelled like coffee, but it was a texture more resembling hot asphalt. I tore the cup and its contents away from my lips, speedily placed them back on the table and gagged.

    ¡°I''m sorry Malkolm,¡± I said between wretches, ¡°But where I am from, coffee does not look like that.¡±

    The bewilderment Malkolm previously felt now peaked, the look of wonder in his eyes along with his sideways glance gave it all away.

    ¡°Where are you from, exactly?¡±

    I began to reply, just as the door crashed open. From behind it came a hulking man, much taller than I or Malkolm, his toned physique barely hidden under a brown tunic and pants. He spoke in a thunderous voice, it was what I would imagine a greek god to sound like.

    ¡°Hey old man, came to help out around th-¡± the man stopped mid sentence, looking at me.

    Malkolm turned in his chair, putting one arm over the back, ¡°Kalom, how many times must I tell you to not slam that door?!¡±

    Up until now I had not seen Malkolm get upset, but he genuinely seemed so now, not angry, but visibly annoyed.

    ¡°Sorry, I was just excited to do some work is all¡± Kalom said placatingly.

    Malkolm calmed himself and went back to his relaxed state as he was before Kalom had entered, and before I caused him some grief with my outburst.

    ¡°Come, sit down and have some coffee, and let me introduce you to our guest¡± Kalom obeyed, he sat down beside me, grabbed an unclaimed cup of the grotesque coffee and sipped.

    ¡°Kalom, this is the young man you and Lais brought back. His name is Goldwater,¡± Malkolm said, ¡°And Goldwater, meet my son Kalom.¡±

    I waved to him, ¡°it¡¯s nice to meet you, Kalom¡± I said, sounding as cordial as I possibly could.

    While I had nothing against him, I was a little intimidated by his build. His height and muscles were both superior to mine, so it was quite off putting. While I was certainly in shape, comparing myself to him would be like placing an apple next to a cantaloupe. Kalom was built like a sculpture straight out of the renaissance. Meanwhile the last time I saw any intense training was back in Zambezi, that was quite a number of years ago, so I have lost much of my own definition.

    ¡°Nice to meet you too, Goldwater¡± He replied to me in kind. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you awake and not paralyzed from the neck down¡±.

    Kalom let out a laugh full of genuine gaiety, which was loud, it caught me off guard. All of a sudden he stopped. He leaned over to me, and placing his right hand on my shoulder; whispering close to my ear. Making sure that Malkolm could not hear what he was saying to me.

    ¡°And one more thing¡ªthanks for keeping your hands to yourself around my sister.¡±

    He said this not with any malice, but made it clear that he would not approve of the action had I done so.

    ¡°She gets bothered by so many potential suitors that she gets tired of it.¡±

    I could tell he meant the beautiful woman I met before, and at that moment I felt lucky that I had been a rather perfect gentleman and not said anything that might have been mistaken for flirting.

    ¡°I can hear you, boy.¡± Malkolm said.

    ¡°You can¡¯t keep secrets from these ears¡± he rubbed the tips of both his to emphasize the point. ¡°So kindly stop trying to scare our guest.¡±

    ¡°I''m just testing his mettle¡± Kalom said, now standing straight once more, ¡°Got to make sure he¡¯s not still weak in the knees.¡±

    He let out another roaring laugh. I sat there, listening to them both talk to each other, and looked down at the coffee in front of me. I realized in that moment that something was strange about this situation, odder than what I already thought beforehand. I had this feeling of calm, no sense of urgency, and remembered how I felt back while I was laying in the field. I figured that this was what I had been missing for so long, actual peace and rest. The coffee was terrible, and the jarring fact that I was clearly not in my homeland anymore still sat in the back of my mind, but there and then, I felt comfortable. I was not used to that feeling, even sitting at home in my recliner trying desperately to keep the memories at bay, a daily struggle to not remember the things I''ve done and seen, I hadn''t even gotten close to that sense of bliss.

    It was a few moments before I realized that my name was being called, it was a slowly growing noise, like an old antique television being turned on.

    ¡°Goldwater,¡± the voice rang out, ¡°Goldwater are you alright?¡± It was Malkolm.

    ¡°Huh?¡± I jolted back to the present, and looked over at him. Malkolm was wide eyed at my dozing off, and Kalom had a similar expression, but more of curiosity than any sense of true concern. ¡°Sorry Malkolm, I was just deep in thought, nothing to worry about¡±

    ¡°Well, alright¡± he said, nonchalantly, ¡°but you seem to let your mind wander quite a bit, is that normal?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s nothing serious, it''s just how I juggle my thoughts.¡±

    I picked up the cup of now lukewarm coffee I had without even thinking, and pressed it to my lips, tipped it back and filled my mouth with the sticky substance.

    What happened next was a chorus of emotions, Malkolm chuckling silently while covering his face, Kalom pounding his fist on the table and letting loose another bellowing howl of amusement. All while I gagged and tried my very best to keep myself from vomiting in disgust.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~King Eli ¡®The Gladius¡¯~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    In another location, as that scene played out, I later learned that a totally different event was taking place. One with a more sinister tone, and it would shape my immediate destiny in the world that I had found myself in. The castle was dimly lit, say for a few sconces adorning the walls, and the occasional chandelier. Its walls were made of massive granite blocks, intricately carved with scenes of the construction of the castle itself, but the workers wore chains about their necks. several were being whipped by a man in armor, who had a halo behind his head, sporting the icon of the black sun. In the center back of the room was a large marble throne, flanked on either side by braziers made of thick iron. Two men flanked the entrance to the room, halberds in hand, and outfitted with mail armor. Three other men were also present; a figure on his knees before the throne, concealed by a heavy bark brown hooded cloak, his face obscured by shadow say for a pair of bright yellow eyes. The second man was standing to the left of the throne, a slender figure donned by a set of impressive red robes, gold leaf adorned the collar and the symbol emblazoned on its breast, a withered tree. His red hair, lighter than his robes, was long and flowing. Overall his regalia was lackluster compared to the third man, who sat upon the throne itself, looking down to the kneeling figure before him. The throned man, like the robed one to his side, was also similarly tall but robust in physique. He himself wore a set of jade tinted armor, intricately engraved with the motif of a bulls head and a sword piercing its skull. A sash of golden silk emblazoned with ruby red runes lay across his chest, and complimented the golden crown which sat upon his head, twas in the shape of a long and twisting pine branch, with needles of silver protruding from each inch.

    ¡°Well?¡± The throned man spoke, his voice deep and commanding.

    The man on the ground before him shuddered, his visible discomfort evident by his nervous shaking. He took a deep breath and spoke in a deep whiny voice,

    ¡°My lord, I had tracked down the man from the other world, as you commanded.¡±

    He didn''t lift his head, didn''t stutter, but his tone was weak and cautious.

    ¡°He was unconscious when I happened upon him, so I injected him with a concoction to keep him in place.¡±

    The man on the throne did not speak, he did not move his gaze from the man before him, merely sat there silently. His expression was one of a growing impatience. The robed figure grinned cruelly, savoring every moment of the speakers terror.

    The man below continued his report, ¡°So I believed that by the time I returned with a wagon and guards he would still be there. However¡­¡±

    He trailed off, losing his composure and nerve to speak.

    ¡°You aren''t finished,¡± came the booming voice of the throned man. ¡°What happened next?¡±

    ¡°W-well, we searched for him but found no trace of his presence. So we returned witho-¡±

    The man jolted from his throne, stepped forward and pointed down at the groveling speaker, his face no longer simply agitated but a full scowl.

    ¡°Without my prisoner in tow?!¡± His voice boomed.

    the two guards at the other end of the room stiffened, and the man on the ground shook with fear.

    ¡°You call yourself an assassin, you call yourself a bounty hunter, but cannot even manage to capture an unconscious, not to mention paralyzed man?!¡±

    He squatted down, his armor clanking, and removed the hood of the assassin, revealing his face. His yellow eyes, underlined with dark half rings of tire and weariness. Pointed ears, a head of short black hair, and dark gray skin met the vision of the temperamental figure before him. The assassin had a lithe and graceful quality about him, and could easily be mistaken as a woman at first glance.

    ¡°As king of this Imperium, I demand satisfaction, not failure. Yet you have proven yourself useless in the most simple of tasks given to you thus far.¡±

    The king, now in a menacing but controlled tone, not like that of a ruler but a mugger, continued to berate the pitiful creature before him.

    ¡°It is almost as if you want me to lose my temper.¡±

    The king grabbed a fistful of the assassin''s hair, causing the latter to cry out. He tilted the man¡¯s head up to meet his gaze, and got close to his face, staring into his eyes with a furious glare.

    ¡°If you persist in failing me, I will not hesitate to punish not only you, but your sister as well.¡±

    The man forgot the pain for a brief moment, and terror overtook his face. ¡°N-no please,¡± he started, but the king pulled on his hair tighter, returning the man to his previously pained state with a bleat.

    ¡°Listen closely, and listen well.¡± The king continued, ¡°I will give you one chance to redeem yourself this time, Gregori. Only one chance.¡±

    He let Gregori¡¯s hair go and stood up. The elf held his head where the pain was most present, tears running down his face. He removed his hands and looked down at them, they were coated with loose hair and blood. He began to quietly weep as the pain continued in short bursts, while the king returned and sat upon his throne.

    ¡°Now go,¡± he began, ¡°find that other worlder, and do not return without him.¡±

    Gregori hastily stood and bowed, blood and drying tears still running down his face. He replaced his hood and ran out of the room. The Guards still stood at attention, never having moved the entire time, though clearly shaken up by the events which they had witnessed. They took no notice of the man running past them and kept their vision straight.

    The king looked over to the robed man beside him and smiled. ¡°How did I do, Karill?¡± he asked, his tone now gay, as if the previous transpirations were distant memories.

    The robed figure smiled back, but his was of a more mischievous sort than the king he now spoke with.

    ¡°Very good, King Eli. Though I would say that perhaps you went slightly overboard with the violence this time around.¡± His tone was nasally, filled with sinister depth.

    Eli sighed and sat back in his throne, relaxing slightly. He closed his eyes, ¡°perhaps,¡± he said, ¡°but I thought you told me that violence at times would be necessary, no?¡±

    Karill, nodded. ¡°Yes, I did. But that cithish wretch would have been coerced by a slight slap across the face. What you did probably damn near caused the poor bastard to piss himself.¡±

    Eli laughed heartily, echoing throughout the room. ¡°True enough, perhaps I did go a little too far.¡± He looked over to Karill again, now with a more serious expression, ¡°Tell me,¡± he said, ¡°do you think this other worlder is the one I have been looking for?¡±

    Karill smiled and stuck up one finger, emphasizing his point. ¡°The oracle never lies, your majesty. This man is indeed the one who murdered your father in the old world.¡±

    The king got up, stretched his back, and began to walk to the entrance of the room, motioning Karill to join him. As they did so, Karill motioned for the guards to leave the room as well. They did so in a hasty fashion, as if they had wanted out since the very beginning.

    ¡°You are a wise man, Karill, I am happy that my father picked you to be my court magician.¡± Eli cheerfully admitted as they walked.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Karill responded, ¡°you tell me every chance you get my lord.¡±

    The two reached the threshold and stopped, standing there and admiring the massive carved stones of the walls. They towered over the two men, solid and unyielding. Eli coughed and turned to Karill,

    ¡°I am going to go check on some things, I shall meet up with you later.¡±

    Karill bowed his head, and they both walked out of the room together in silence, into the dimly lit darkness of the hallway beyond.

 A Poppy for every tombstone [PRE Professional Edit]

    The room was silent. Kalom and his father sat at the table, finishing the last of their coffee, the kettle long emptied. My own half-full cup sat untouched, while I nursed a separate glass of water, savoring the cool relief as I let out a quiet sigh.

    ¡°Thank you for the water¡± I said, Taking another sip.

    Malkolm nodded in polite reply, and replaced his now drained cup back upon the tabletop. Despite his own cup being empty, Kalom held it, rubbing the front of it with his thumb almost as if to shine its soft wooden surface. He was toying with the cup so nonchalantly that I for sure figured he would catch a splinter. He was obviously deep in thought himself as I had been not a moment before drinking the vile tasting coffee.

    Malkolm again nodded to me silently, and looked down at the fourth and still untouched cup of coffee. He frowned, then looked over the Kalom.

    ¡°Kalom, where is your sister?¡± Malkolm asked.¡±

    Kalom stopped his idle playing with the cup and looked over to his father with a start. ¡°Oh, she¡¯s coming, but she got held up at the grocer.¡±

    Malkolm bowed his head in acknowledgement and said nothing more for quite a while. The heat inside the room caused sweat to form on my brow and condensation on the outside of my water cup. I was used to that kind of heat, I had been in the jungles of the Amazon during the French Insurgency long-long ago, so it didn''t bother me. But as I looked over to Malkolm, he was sweating and on occasion would wipe said moisture away with one of his sleeves. Kalom wasn''t any better as his tunic, which was clearly not meant for this heat, was now damp.

    My own clothing choice was no better, long sleeved white shirt with a sweater vest, not the most comfortable attire for a hot day. I took another sip of my water, but as I was about to place it back down, the door opened.

    It was the woman I had met when I awoke in the field. She was carrying a large wicker basket filled to the brim with food. The sight before me was like something out of a propaganda poster from back home; brightly colored vegetables and fruits, ripe and delicious looking. And to top it off, held by a gorgeous woman whose smile radiated almost with a light of its own, warm and mirthful. I and her locked eyes momentarily, her visage as soft and dazzling as when we first met.

    Malkolm and Kalom got up from the table, the latter taking the basket from her hands and started toward the hallway, while Malkolm gave her a hug and beckoned her to the table.

    ¡°Come, come,¡± he said, ¡°I would like you to meet the man you found¡±. He sat down in his chair as the woman sat beside him. ¡°This is Lais, my daughter.¡± He held his hand out directing me to look at her, which I did and bowed my head in courtesy,

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you again,¡± I paused, not sure what to say next. I was not usually good with talking to women, the moment was nearing an air of awkwardness so I said the only thing I could think of at the moment. ¡°Thank you for helping me¡±.

    She tilted her head to one side slightly, her eyes looking up and down my figure, she was doing so with intensity.

    ¡°I don''t see any signs of the poison still affecting you,¡± she began, ¡°this makes me very glad.¡±

    She got up, and strode over to me, Malkolm had a slightly curious countenance, not knowing what Lais was doing. She placed one hand on my forehead, held it there for a moment, then moved down to my arm, where she pressed her fingertips gently against my skin.

    ¡°Does this hurt?¡± She inquired, like a nurse in a hospital.

    ¡°No, but I imagine you''re only worried whether or not I can actually feel that, aren''t you?¡± I replied, with a smirk.

    She nodded, and then let go of me, before turning and heading back to her seat. ¡°It¡¯s good to see that your movement has recovered, as well as your feeling. But I would like for you to stay for a few days longer.¡± she suddenly stammered out,

    ¡°To examine you of course. To make sure you are actually not in any danger of the poison still being in your system.¡±

    I sat back in my chair, one eyebrow raised,

    ¡°Do you think it could still affect me?¡±

    This caused me little concern, but piqued my interest more than anything. The poison seemed much more troublesome than I previously thought. It had been several days of me resting, at least that had been what Malkolm told me when I first awoke not two hours ago. I much more assumed that Lais simply wanted to learn who I was and what I was doing in the field when she found me, than the paralysis poison somehow actually relapsing in my system.

    She crossed her legs and placed one hand after the other on her knee.

    ¡°perhaps,¡± she said casually.

    There was no hint of deception, no sense of secret intent in her voice nor her posture, It was quite matter-of-fact.

    ¡°Alright, I guess I can stay for perhaps a few more days. It will help me get my bearings back I think, and I could help repay my debt to you and your father.¡±

    I looked over to Malkolm, he was grinning practically ear to ear at that proposition. I could tell he would like that, not only would it allow me to repay these people''s kindness, it would also allow me to make good on my promise to help find the old man some Aloe Vera for that burn on his hand. It was still visible, not as red anymore but certainly looked painful.

    ¡°This could also be a good opportunity for me to learn about you all more, and you me.¡±

    I had full intentions to tell them alot about myself in exchange, except for specific parts, which were better left unsaid. I turned back to Lais and examined her face, her lips held a faint smile of amusement. Just as I finished speaking, kalom returned to the room, carrying a fistful of and munching down on a carrot. Malkolm shook his head, threw it back and laughed.

    ¡°Hey, what''s so funny?¡± Kalom said, mouth still full, not caring about manners.

    ¡°Nothing, nothing.¡± Malkolm regained his composure, ¡°It''s just, I hope you intend on sharing the carrots instead of eating them all like last time.¡±

    Kalom swallowed, turned to me, looked down at the remaining half-carrot and then back to me. He then held it by the green fronds, and thrust it down towards me and into my face.

    ¡°Here, do you want any?¡± He was obviously being genuine, but I waved my hand in decline. He was a strange guy, good natured though.

    ¡°No thanks, I''m fine.¡±

    Later that day, Malkolm had asked Kalom, myself and Lais to gather some medicinal herbs from the forest. As we stood in front of the house''s entrance, standing on the arched porch waiting for Kalom to get ready, I took time to make sure I was adequately prepared. Malkolm has supplied me with his personal equipment for this task, and I was very grateful. I had none of my own kit on me. so the aid was a welcome relief.

    ¡°Bag, check. Garden Shears, check. Gloves, wait, why do I need gloves?¡±

    I turned to Lais, standing on my right and leaning against one of the arches. She stared at me, bewildered.

    ¡°So you don''t get poisoned, why else?¡±

    She was as confused as when I had brought up my coffee issues with Malkolm. This place continued to generate curiosity for me, there were so many differences compared to my own home. I could tell by this point, due to my remembering of what had occurred before my awakening, that I was not in my own world anymore. Whether this was some strange afterlife or a bizarre freak accident, I intended to make the most of it.

    ¡°Ok, so I have gloves, that''s good then.¡± she smiled again, content with my acceptance of her reasoning. ¡°But-¡± She stopped smiling.

    ¡°Is everything alright?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I said, looking down at my hip. ¡°I hadn''t noticed until now, but my holster is gone.¡±

    ¡°What''s a holster?¡±

    I got slightly panicked, frantically trying to remember where it was last. I had been wearing it when I arrived, but it was gone now, had it been gone when I woke up in the house? No, I hadn¡¯t been wearing it. I was mumbling to myself without notice, desperate to recall the last place it had been.

    ¡°Goldwater, are you alright?¡±

    I looked over at her, what I saw was a face full of concern and perhaps a slight tinge of fear. It was then that I realized what I was doing, my own expression had been of clenched teeth, I noticed I had also been biting my nail without realizing it.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°I-,¡± I started but stopped. ¡°I¡¯m fine Lais, just a little worried. You didnt happen to see where that brown belt I had when you found me went?¡±

    I guessed she could have known, so I decided to ask and see if she knew anything.

    ¡°I don''t know, but I know what you are talking about, is that what you call a ''holster''?¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Yes, yes it is.¡±

    At least she had seen it, that''s a start.

    ¡°There''s a weapon inside, Its important to me.¡±

    I thought it best to not lie about what it was, since she clearly had never seen or heard of a holster then chances are she would never have seen a gun either. My Pistol had only a single clip of ammunition, contained in a side pouch on the holsters side. It was a common practice for people like me, I had been told, to always wear their sidearms even in the comfort of their own homes. Some people, the doctors would say, just don''t get over the feelings of being watched, Kangar syndrome it was called. I just called it being prepared, that or not being dead.

    Lais became grim, looking away.

    ¡°A weapon?¡± her tone was disquieting.

    She shifted a little, trying to hide her discomfort on the topic. ¡°You know it¡¯s a crime to carry weapons without a royal title, correct?¡±

    I took a brief pause to digest what I had just heard. Never had I believed that I would be told that my right to bear arms was invalid, it was unthinkable to even suggest something like that in my homeland. It was the first of many things I would come to hear, that would determine my fate in this new land I found myself in.

    ¡°Where I¡¯m from, everyone carries these. No permits, No titles. Just the right to defend yourself.¡±

    I replied clearly, now fired up from her statement, I felt as if I was back in the S.C.F. again, directing orders and giving off an air of confidence. My charisma seemed to have the intended effect, as she relaxed a little.

    ¡°Oh,¡± she stood straight again, her face returning to its previous calmness. ¡°I was unaware that such a place existed.¡±

    ¡°It does, I can tell you more about my homeland if you''re interested.¡±

    I gave her a reassuring smile, trying to put the holster out of my mind, desperate to not think about it. She inclined her head, and said nothing more. Malkolm came outside in a rush, followed by Kalom with his own gear.

    ¡°Goldwater,¡± Malkolm slowed his pace as he neared me, and that''s when I noticed what was in his hand; my holster and gun. ¡°Here, I forgot to give this back to you, I¡¯m not sure what it is, but it''s yours so I wouldn''t want you to head off without it.¡±

    Taking the holster from him, I gave him my thanks. I refastened the damn thing to my waist and threw the secondary strap over the shoulder, tightening it.

    I took out the pistol, examining it, Malkolm and Kalom were intrigued by it, but Lais, now knowing what it was, was eerily silent. The gun was box shaped, where bullets were loaded into the top unlike modern pistols, this was an antique from centuries ago, a living relic. The brass handle was ornately carved with the image of a skull wearing a garrison cap, and flanked by two swords, scimitars to be exact. And the lettering ¡®Liberty and Death¡¯ beneath in cursive, engraved, immortalized like a solemn reminder of my mercenary days. But my own carving on the magazine was also visible, the gun''s name; ¡®Poppy¡¯ etched in with a knife.

    It wasn''t loaded, so I decided to correct that. I pulled out the clip of ammunition from my holsters side pocket, placed the stripper into the top, and pressed the bullets down one after the other. I replaced the pistol back in its holster, flipped up the hammer and safety, and looked back to Lais. She didn''t know what to think of it, but I could tell the worry in her expression had returned.

    ¡°Thanks Malkolm, I feel a lot safer with this on my side.¡± I said, turning back to him.

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± He was unsure what to make of the pistol, but could tell at least it was important to me.

    ¡°This thing is a gun,¡± I pointed to the holster, ¡°it¡¯s a weapon, like I just said to Lai-¡±

    ¡°Malkolm practically jumped back in fright, ¡°A weapon?!¡± he yelled, his face in horror. ¡°But if you get caught with that, if we get caught with that, we''re all goners.¡±

    I could tell his reaction was not disproportionate, he had likely seen people being punished before. Kalom was also perplexed by my admission. He had backed off slightly, though his face was stone cold say for the slightly raised eyebrows of curious indignation.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, calm down alright?¡± I had tried to say in an appeasing tone, but Malkolm and Kalom refused to calm in the slightest, instead the fear and worry stilled and a moment of silent uncertainty descended on us all.

    Lais was the savior of the moment, as she strode up behind me unbeknownst, and put her hand on my shoulder. Her soft touch had a calming effect on myself, and it seemed to let the others know that everything was fine.

    ¡°If Goldwater says it¡¯s going to be aright , then I trust him.¡± I gazed back at her, the look in her eyes was fiery defiance, and a confidence befitting a warrior or a general. That moment was probably the one, when she truly began to make me fall for her.

    I did not know why she had stood up for me at that moment, she had no reason to trust me whatsoever. None of them, least of all her, had any idea who I really was or even where I came from. Regardless, I was grateful for her backing me. Malkolm and Kalom collectively lowered their guard, though not entirely.

    ¡°Well,¡± Kalom was the first to speak, ¡°If she says everything''s gonna be alright, then I guess it''s fine.¡±

    He turned to his father, a relieved expression enveloping his face. Malkolm nodded cautiously.

    ¡°Still, it¡¯s dangerous to be carrying that thing if it is indeed a weapon,¡±

    Malkolm lightly raised his hand, pointing to my holster.

    ¡°So please, be sure to only use it, if it¡¯s absolutely necessary.¡±

    He stressed the point, ¡°Please Goldwater,¡±

    Stepping forward and placing his hand on my shoulder.

    ¡°I don''t want you to get in trouble, nor my family.¡±

    I put my opposite hand over his, and smiled.

    ¡°Don''t worry, Malkolm. I¡¯ll be careful.¡±

    I reassured him to the best of my ability, before letting my hand drop back to my side, he took his own hand away as well. He turned and went back inside without another word, I looked to Kalom and then to Lais, checking to see if they were all prepared to go. They were, so was I, and thus we headed to the forest with Kalom leading the way. Since he was the strongest of us three, he was carrying the biggest load of equipment. The backpack he had was a brown tattered old thing, a series of patches from different scraps of clothing kept several places from falling apart, but the patches were expertly sown into the leather bag, no doubt that these would last for quite some time before giving in to the torrents of time and wear. The bag also bore a large pair of tree shears and a spade, since we were going to just gather herbs, this seemed a bit much to be lugging around.

    Lais walked beside me, looking straight forward and occasionally at bushes and shrubs along the path, I tried my best to not stare at her. I decided to take my mind off things by remembering my home. The nice warm fireplace during the winter, the smell of the oven after baking bread, my relaxing days on the porch smoking a bowl and watching the clouds. Then the unwanted thoughts came back, and I snapped to the present. I hadn''t realized it, but we had gone quite a long way into the forest. By the time I came to my senses again, Kalom had stopped and began unpacking the huge tree shears.

    ¡°Alright, this is where we split up.¡±

    Kalom held the Shears in his left hand, while carrying the pack over his right shoulder, he appeared in that moment to resemble a working man, the kind you would see on help wanted flyers in the post offices back home. It was incredible to witness even for that brief moment, perhaps I was homesick, or perhaps I had really witnessed what a man can actually achieve if they give it their all.

    ¡±Lais and you will find the ground plants, while I will cut the bigger ones,¡± he held the shears up and waved them back and forth with ease.

    Lais nodded, ¡°Ok, we¡¯ll meet back here in an hour like normal?¡±

    Kalom put his thumb up, almost losing grip on the tool he held. This made Lais giggle for a brief moment, before she grabbed my hand and started pulling me into the forest almost against my will.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be back!¡± she yelled as we descended deeper into the thick brush.

    I caught Kalom¡¯s glance as we went further in, it had the same seriousness as when he had first met me, when he had half-jokingly thanked me, and half warned me, for not flirting with Lais. I knew what his eyes said, it was a stern warning,  And I intended to abide by it.

    As we traversed into the thicket, I began to see many berries and fruit bearing trees, the palette of colors together blending into the cacophony of senses. The Smell of the juices and the foliage, the sight of the bright shades, The sound of the twig snaps beneath mine and Lais¡¯s footsteps, and the touch of her warm hand clasping my own. It was one of those rare times that I felt a sense of homeliness when outdoors, but what made it surreal was Lais herself. This mesmerizing woman, who I knew so little about, somehow made the entire scene play out like a stage performance. We were the actors of our own story, and the backdrop was a forest of bushes, trees, berries and leaves.

    Lais stopped tugging me along and let go, spinning around to face me. The giddy expression she held was lighthearted, excited and full of eagerness. She pointed by my feet, drawing my gaze down to a small bush, it was a small one. The leaves on it were slightly tinted with a dark royal purple, and the four symmetrical branches themselves had nearly invisible yellow veins running along them. It looked sickly, like it was dying.

    ¡°That''s one of the plants we were looking for,¡± she knelt down, taking out of her bag a pair of smaller shears, and began cutting a few of the branches off, and handing it to me. ¡°It¡¯s safe to touch, take it.¡±

    I held it in both hands, examining the stem and leaves carefully, as some of the sappy juices within came oozing out of the end of the cut.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It''s called Deathclover."

    She took it back from me and placed it inside her bag, still talking as she did so.

    ¡°It''s called that due to the wilting appearance and colors of the plant itself, but it''s actually a herb for helping people sleep.¡±

    She cut another branch, and then like the former, placed it inside her bag before standing back up and brushing off her dress.

    ¡°Do people often have trouble sleeping around here?¡±

    She shook her head, as she replaced her shears and closed her bag, sealing the herbs and the tool inside. ¡°Not at all, but it¡¯s good to have a few laying around just in case they are needed.¡±

    She turned and continued to walk, gesturing for me to follow on. Several times we stopped, and several times we found new herbs to collect. Singe nettle, lavender, horses bane. All of these with the exception of lavender, I had never heard of before. But All of them had apparently been used for time immemorial in this land, it was obvious that I had a lot to learn about this new place. As we continued onward, Lais began to ask questions of my own homeland, so I obliged her.

    ¡°What is your homeland called, Goldwater?¡± She asked.

    ¡°The Free Territories, though I live specifically near a place called New York. What about this place, what do you call it?"

    ¡°We call it Britona, but outsiders don''t really call it that. They just call it the elf kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Elf kingdom? Why is that?¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡±

    I paused, completely dumbfounded by her response. Then it hit me like a freight train, and I could not believe how stupid I had been. Giant trees, pointed ears, living in the woods; these people were elves. Which at that moment made me realize just how terrifyingly far from home I actually was.

    ¡°Um-,¡± I began, ¡°yeah, I was going to ask you something important.¡±

    She stopped in her tracks, turning to me with an inquisitive smile. ¡°Ask away.¡±

    ¡°Are you an elf?¡±

    It sounded incredibly idiotic to say it out loud, after all, until recently I had lived in a world where elves were fantasy creatures, relegated to the tales of books and movies. But before me stood a woman who was a carbon copy of what one should have looked like had they existed.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡±

    she stepped forward, placing the back of her left hand on my forehead to test my temperature.

    ¡°You seem fine, but then-''''

    she paused for a while, trying to piece together her next words. I was trying to keep my mouth shut, to not say anything more lest I embarrass myself further, in both my own head and in front of Lais. But before either of us could do anything more, rustling came from nearby, disturbing our collective thoughts. A bush began to rattle and shake, violently so. Lais stood ready but perturbed, unclasping her bag and taking out the shears, holding them as a knife. I, for my part, unholstered my pistol, slowly, carefully to make no noise. A twig snapped. My thumb flicked the safety off. A low growl rumbled in the brush¡ªtoo close, too deep. I pulled the hammer back, breath steady, finger tight on the trigger.. Lais began to back up, her resolve briefly waning and I could see her hands tremble slightly, though her face showed no signs of fear.

    ¡°Lais,¡±

    I whispered, the bush stopped for a brief moment as my words died down,

    ¡°get behind me. I¡¯ll handle this.¡±

    She looked at me from the corner of her eye, nodded silently, and lightly stepped back doing as I said. The growl began again, now louder and angrier than before, In a flash something leapt from the bushes. All I saw and heard were gnashing fangs, black fur and as I raised my gun, a bang, followed by a spray of blood.

 Intermission: The Second Bush war, 2078 (25 years before present)

    I laid there in the ditch, dust in my eyes and my throat. I wanted to cough so much, it was maddening. But I knew that if I had, I would have met my end by the swift stab of a bayonet or a round of buckshot to the face. The reds walked among the dead, looking for any signs of movement, any noticeable trace of life in the vast sea of corpses. A gunshot would ring out once in a while. Either preceded by a cry for mercy or afterwards by the howls of pain and calls for mothers or father to comfort them, before a second shell finished the job. One or two souls went down with a fight, waiting for the opportune time to pull the pin of a grenade, and hug the nearest unsuspecting bastard. The gore spread wide, my face covered with hot matter, and the body of the Congolese soldier atop of me dripping blood onto my uniform. Distant sirens from the Zambezi base, the simultaneous splatters of mortar shells and anti-aircraft guns sent shivers down my spine. Three years of fighting down the drain, all because of one fuck up on the look-outs part. It had been a long night, and it was going to get longer it seemed.

    As one of them came towards me, I covered my mouth, hushing what little sound I was making. The heat of my breath on my dirt covered palm made it hard to draw air, but it was a small price to pay for survival. The soldier took his shotgun, bayonet on its end, and stabbed a few of the bodies with a quick downward jab. No noise, no screams, just a wounded corpse with little blood left to shed. He raised the blade to his victims fatigue pants, and wiped what little blood there was away. He turned, walked over another pile of the dead, and rejoined his fellow soldiers as they began towards our base. I could see the flames of the barracks rise high into the night, and the smoke reflecting the illusion of those higher still. The control tower by the airfield was in ruins, smoldering and lopsided, held up only by makeshift stabilizers we had put up earlier that day, when the fight had begun. The gunshots and the screams from nearby had fled it seemed, and now the yells came from the base itself, where the fighting had begun again. Gunshots sporadically called out in the night, drowning out the silence.

    I was a nobody compared to some of these men, men who had fought in wars around the globe. Major Leeroy for example, he was a tough sonofabitch, spent his youth as a child soldier out of Occupied Romania. He had killed his first communist at eleven, and lost his right eye to shrapnel at twelve. He was killed when the fighting started, and was in that control tower when it was hit with the first volley of artillery.

    Commissar Celeb, or as we used to call him, ¡®judge¡¯, was our squad''s previous commissar before myself. He was a no nonsense, unrelenting force of nature, who would rather shoot you dead than receive any backtalk. He taught me the ropes of being a leader like himself, but that story would come later.

    I began to crawl flat on my stomach, the body on top of me still there, as both my shield and my camouflage. The dust and dirt coated my hands, cracking them and giving me a reason to grit my teeth, the dry texture made me seethe with every passing moment. The dirt got under my fingernails, and into my face, rocks scraped my knees, my legs and my arms, but I kept going. Inch by inch, slowly and carefully. I couldn''t afford to be noticed then, lest I end up like all the others before me. The gunshots and explosions in the base behind me were quieter, I was gaining distance I thought, or that the battle was ending. Soon I came upon a body in front of me, I grabbed hold of it and began to carry myself over the poor bastard''s chest and to the other side.

    But before I was halfway, the man, one of the Rhodesian soldiers we worked for, came to. He was alive, but disoriented, delirious, and vocal.

    ¡°Hey, hey!¡± he yelled, or screamed really, ¡°Get me out of here, I''m not dead, I''m not dead!¡±

    He thrashed about, trying to get me and the corpse I was lugging off of him. I couldn''t risk him giving my position away, I couldn''t, we would both have died. I tried covering his mouth, but he kept screaming, and began biting at me. I tried muffling him with his own shirt, leaning over in front of his face trying to calm him down.

    ¡°Shh!¡± I put my hand over his mouth, now filled with fabric, and I placed one finger in front of my own lips, gesturing for him to stop his relentless howling.

    ¡°If you don''t shut up, we''re both dead, do you hear me?¡±

    He wouldn''t listen, he wouldn¡¯t relent, he just kept flailing about, and eventually hit me in the head with something hard. It was his helmet, which I had not noticed him pick up, it must have been beside him.

    I reeled in pain from the blow, trying to bite back stinging tears and the pounding in my head. The man, now seeing his chance, pushed me off and sent me and my human shield down to the ground. He himself stood up, looked down at me and then at the base, back to me and then began to drag himself in the direction of where I came from.

    ¡°Hey, hey I''m still alive out here!¡± he yelled again.

    His left foot was bent oddly, making lines in the sand and dirt as it went, limp and unmoving. It was broken, clearly. But the man paid no mind to the pain, if any he could feel. But I couldn''t let him keep yelling like that, it would be the end for me. No longer caring about his own survival, I got to my feet, and ran towards him.

    As I drew closer, I unsheathed my combat knife from my belt, and held it by my side. I closed in on him, just as he was about to let loose another barrage of noise, I tackled the idiot to the ground. It took a while and a fierce fight to turn him over as he punched and kicked and scratched at my face, but eventually I pinned him. In one last vain attempt I tried to get him to shut up, but in his condition, it was no use. He was shell shocked beyond reason.

    ¡°I¡¯m still alive, they can''t forget about me, I''m still alive out here!¡±

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    he began to sob loudly, and I could hear distant voices, not in English either. I did what had to be done, though it pained me. He was just some poor kid in comparison to me; younger, obviously never had battle experience before that day, a new-blood. I had been fighting in that hellscape for the last three years. In my day, they trained with live fire and actual mortars, if you had survived day one, you were fit to actually train. Those days were where I lost my ability to care about the sound of artillery, gunshots as well. It sounded natural from then on, like heavy rain pattering on the ground during a storm. But that kid, he was just some Rhodesian infantryman, he hadn¡¯t seen what I had seen, done the things I had done; did he really deserve to die, just so I could live? At that moment, I didn''t care like I do now looking back on it.

    In what seemed like a split second I plunged my knife into his windpipe, and began relentlessly stabbing over and over. His sobs and screams became garbled gibberish, he sounded as if he was underwater, though it was not water he was drowning in. Slowly his resistance faded, and his voice stopped. The clawing and muttering ceased. I sat there on top of his chest, my hands still wrapped around the grip of my blade, fully lodged in his throat. Mine and his face were splattered with blood, his more so, but he was dead and I alive, which was what mattered at that moment.

    I looked down at my blood soaked fingers, the drenched sleeves of my own uniform, and felt nothing. I felt no pity, no remorse for what I had done, not even an inkling of regret. I was a monster, who had killed someone on his own side to save himself, yet couldn''t care less. The adrenaline surged throughout my body, making me refocus on the task at hand. I unsheathed my knife from my victim, and replaced it in its proper pouch. I got up, and began to run, just as a group of men came clamoring my way. They were silhouettes to me, only black masses dancing in the brightness of the flames coming from our base.

    I could hear voices calling after me, but I did not dare turn to see who they belonged to, I just kept going in a mad sprint away to safety. No gunshots came, no strikes of artillery, no snipers. I kept going for what felt like hours, the road disappeared and was replaced with more dirt and grass. I eventually came upon a lone tree, sitting atop a small hill and cliff. It was a tiny outcropping, not even six feet, but perfect to rest under if it rained. I sat under the tree, and caught my breath. It was a singed thing, no leaves, the branches and trunk were charcoal, but I didn''t care.

    The rays of the morning sun were just showing over the horizon, the sky turned a pinkish orange, and the clouds a familiar shade of pink, the breeze was cooling, though light with dust. I just sat there a long while watching the sunrise, compartmentalizing the events of the night before, trying to forget the hardships. Opening my breast pocket, I pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, a box of matches and looked down at both in front of me. The package of the smokes was standard yellow with black trim, two chevrons in the middle and the sign of the old American dollar in the very center, there underneath was the brand name, ¡®Ragnar''s Reserve limited¡¯.

    It was some asshole from about twenty years prior who started making those, his funny little reference to Atlas Shrugged, they were also terrible quality. But since they were cheap, they were the norm to us mercs. We didn''t complain often, our pay was all that mattered to us, so we kept our mouths shut even when we had to eat MRE¡¯s and smoke bottom quality cigs. The alcohol was fine though, nobody complained about free drinks, one of the best perks of being part of the Sealand Contract Forces; free booze, meals and smokes.

    I took out one of the bent cigarettes and carefully placed it between my cracked and bloody lips, lit a match, and began to smoke. The burning sensation was soothing, a reminder that I was alive, could feel pain, and the coughing a reminder that I could still breathe. I sat there chain smoking, one after another until the last one was lit, and I looked out to the smoke behind me, far off from the ruins of what was once my home of almost four years in that shitshow. I laughed, silently at first but then the sound came, I was roaring like I had heard the funniest joke ever told. That''s when the laughter turned to sobs, the tears never came, I had none left to shed, and no water to make any.

    I survived, but at that moment wished I had not, began thinking that I should have died back there with my men, with that Rhodesian. With a gun in my hand like a true warrior. But I had chosen life, chosen the easy way out by running to find a safe haven, an escape from the realities which I had signed up for.

    The sun rose higher, and the blue began to gradually fade into its natural place. As I sat there, worn out and tired, eyes swollen red from the dirt and the moment of weakness. I saw a cloud of dust rise on the horizon, and it grew bigger over the course of a few minutes. It was reinforcements, our reinforcements. The rest of the company had decided to come along after all.

    Tanks, Jeeps, and APC¡¯s all heading in the direction of my exfiltration, and followed by several choppers dancing along the sky. All except one jeep, whose drivers had noticed me.

    They drove up, close to the cliff and stopped, the engine sputtering out as they shut it down and climbed out. The black colored eight person jeep radiated heat, giving off mirages. The driver, a young black man from the Rhodesian forces looked up at me, bemused by my appearance out here.

    ¡°Hey old man,¡± he began. I looked down at him, expressionless, not giving a damn. ¡°You ok?¡±

    I looked up at the sky for a moment, not in any purposeful rudeness, just to think of what to say, searching for the right words to use.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah I''m fine. But could use a ride to the base, still plenty of reds to send to the grave.¡±

    He smiled, and waved me down, ¡°come on then, lets go rack up some notches.¡±

    I got up, casually walking down the hill and sat in the back of the jeep, not saying a word. The other men all scooted around me, asking if I was injured or needed anything. There were good kids, inexperienced like the one I killed, I wondered what they would say or do if they had known. But I said nothing about it, only asking for water when offered.

    ¡°Hey ''Whisper'',¡± one of the few mercs present began, he was skinny and had messy red hair. We called him ''Curly'', met him back when I formed up with alot of the others way before that war.

    ¡°What is it ''Curly''? ¡± I replied nonchalantly.

    ¡°How did you get out here, we''re about three miles out from the base.¡±

    I smiled, grinned more accurately, and looked out in the direction of the smoke again.

    ¡°Did what I had to do, son.¡± He stared at me as I turned back to look into his eyes.

    ¡°What was that, run like a bitch?¡± he joked.

    Smiling still, I leaned back and rested against the cold steel of the vehicle, feeling the rumble of the jeep on the rough dirt path carved out by the tanks and the APC¡¯s ahead of us.

    ¡°Survive.¡±

    End of intermission.

 Let a thousand ambushes bloom [PRE PROFESSIONAL EDIT]

    I laid there on the ground, gun still in hand and the corpse of a felled beast on my chest, pinning me. It was a wolf, a large black one. I was surprised it went down in a single shot, but a bullet through the head would tend to kill a lot of things I suppose, large or small. I tried to roll the body off of me to no avail, Lais attempted to help me in this but she was unable to move the beast either. She was visibly shaken.

    ¡°It''s no use,¡± I gave up and simply laid there motionless. ¡°I bet if Kalom were here he would be able to move this wolf, eh?¡±

    Lais had also stopped trying to roll the body off of mine, instead sitting next to me.

    ¡°Yes I believe he could, he may not be the brightest but he is very strong.¡±

    As we sat there and tried to figure out how to solve the problem, I thought back on my old mercenary days. I laughed at those memories, making Lais curious as to what I thought was so funny.

    Turning to her, I stopped. The remnants of the smile still lingered in my expression. ¡°Back during my days as a mercenary, I was in a similar position to this. Though it was on purpose, that''s what I figured was funny.¡±

    ¡°You were a mercenary?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I was a damn good one too.¡± I paused. ¡°Though, I don''t have alot of fond memories of those days.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d imagine not, from what I know about mercenaries, they lead a hard life.¡± Lais¡¯ worry was evident.

    I kept my up my facade, if only for her sake. We sat there not talking for a long while after, listening to the sounds of the forest. Birds sang their melodies as an orchestra of cicadas and grasshoppers added to the rhythm.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Gregori~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    A group of two dozen gray and black hooded figures along with a single one wearing a brown cloak ,rode on horseback at a steady pace down the winding forest roads. Their destination was the village where I was staying, and the purpose of that trip was a nefarious one. As they rode along in a line, the second in this convoy, an older man with a full beard spoke up.

    ¡°How much further till we hit the village?¡±

    His voice was deep but strained, like he was mimicking what an elderly man would sound like.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Now keep quiet, Berma.¡± The brown hooded leader had replied.

    Berma said nothing else from then on until they all had reached a cliff, overlooking the village valley. The sight was magnificent, as despite all the enormous trees, the village from this vantage point was in perfect view. The hustle and bustle of the people below was noisy even from up on the cliff. A few of the riders had started setting up tents and a small campfire with a spit, intending to stay several nights if need be to accomplish the goal they came to achieve. Which I later learned was my capture. The man in the brown hood was none other than the assassin Gregori, once again set out to bring me to his king. One of the other men took off his hood, revealing a clean shaven face with red hair. He was elderly but age hadn¡¯t caught up with him.

    ¡°So, sir Gregori.¡± He began, ¡°The king wants the otherworlder alive, so how are we going to do this?¡±

    Gregori lowered his own hood and leered at the speaker, giving him a stern and silent warning.

    ¡°Ok, I get it. No fires, no killing, no fun. Right?¡±

    Gregori tore his gaze away from the man, and began unpacking his saddlebags, taking out a sleeping roll and a cloth tent. As the others had also begun doing, Soon a thriving campsite had started to bloom, and in secret from the townsfolk below.

    ¡°Set up anything left, I¡¯m going to scout the area.¡± Gregori commanded as he stood there, leering down in disgust at the village below.

    He began towards the cliff''s edge, and dove down. As he fell, the men topside gasped in horror. Berma guffawed at the reaction, before slapping his knee in delight.

    ¡°What the fuck did he do that for, Berma?¡± One of the hooded men asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s a Cith, a darkling.¡± Berma said, ¡°they live in the mountains, old bastard probably latched onto a ledge below, take a gander¡±

    Sure enough, the men collectively did just so and saw that Berma had been correct. There Gregori was, scaling the cliff face and descending into the dense treeline below which bordered the village. The red haired man, who had also been watching the spectacle, was impressed.

    ¡°By Vrill that''s impressive.¡±

    Berma came up behind him and smacked him gently on the back, startling the man.

    ¡°Hey now, don''t be invoking the lord in this. It¡¯s all skill.¡±

    Berma sat down at the edge of the cliff, dangling his feet over the side and leaned back. The other men had all returned to their duties with the exception of the red haired man, who sat down beside Berma.

    ¡°What do you know about the boss?¡± He asked.

    Berma thought for a moment on how to respond, thinking about how much he should or could reveal.

    ¡°Gregori and I go a ways back,¡± he began. ¡°I met him during the siege of Ramaede. Mistook him as being younger than me on account of his looks, turned out the bastards older than fuckin¡¯ dirt. Got about a couple hundred years on me, and still more nimble than myself. Anyhow, we fought together to capture Duke Merriam''s wife as a bargaining chip for Eli. Things went south, Gregori saved my life, that''s basically how our first meeting went.¡±

    Berma opened his cloak and pulled out a waterskin, the listener beside him could tell by the smell that it was some kind of alcohol. He took a few big gulps and replaced it, satisfied. Down below, Gregori was nearing the bottom of the cliff face, effortlessly scaling its jagged surface. His mind was blank, focused only on the task at hand, for one small slip would seal his fate. As he descended, he could hear the laughing of a few of his compatriots above, slowly getting quieter the lower he got.

    ¡°Idiots. Don''t they know how to be covert?¡±

    He reached the bottom after quite some time, just as the sun was setting over the trees. The perfect time for reconnaissance. Slipping into the treeline and the underbrush, Gregori methodically began creeping towards the village, carefully as to not make a sound. When finally getting close enough, he took in the senses of the place. The bright night time lanterns bathed the streets in an orange hue, and the scent of baked goods and burning firewood filled the air with their potency, the streets were lined with shadowed alleys and shrubberies; a perfect place for him and his retinue to work in.

    ¡°Damn, these high-bloods have a grand place to live.¡± Gregori bit his lip, drawing blood. ¡°Must be nice to be able to live out here, the pricks.¡±

    By the time he noticed what he had done, blood already trickled down his chin and onto his cloak. Wiping it away with his sleeve, he began to take mental notes on the village''s layout and where he and his men could stage an ambush. Several homes were under construction, and were most likely unoccupied for the time being, thus making them good candidates for setting up a temporary grab team. But if they timed it wrong, the construction crews might discover them, it was clear that he had to infiltrate further and discover their schedules. As Gregori snuck further inside the village, he spied the grand carvings on the trees, and their imposing figures overlooking everything in sight.

    ¡°What a joke of a people,¡± he whispered to himself. ¡°To slip from such grace, and into the hands of the humans. What shame we have brought upon ourselves.¡±

    Tearing away from them in disgust, Gregori continued his mission, and his search for information to use. Never saying another word the entire night.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Goldwater & Co~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    As I lay there, waiting next to Lais, her brother finally arrived right after the sun began to set. She got up and ran over to Kalom, at first I thought she was going to ask for him to help me. Then she began yelling.

    ¡°What took you so long, didn''t you notice something was wrong when we didn''t return, didn''t you hear that loud boom?!¡±

    Kalom stood there, taking the verbal beating almost like a child being scolded. Lais¡¯s face was beet red with fury, which told me that I should probably avoid ever getting her angry. She had reminded me of a woman I once knew back during the latter days of my work. Always kind, unless you pissed her off. Then she would lay into you, throw things sometimes. Got hit with a lot of wrenches in the company motor pool back then. After a few more minutes of yelling, Lais strode back to me with her brother in tow.

    ¡°Hey Kalom,¡± I said.

    He smiled, though still flistered at the verbal assault he had just endured, ¡°Nice to see you still alive, thought you two had died out here. Well, maybe you, not Lais.¡±

    ¡°You seem pretty unphased by that possibility,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yeah, well my sister is able to handle herself, you on the other hand I know pretty much nothing about.¡±

    Kalom began to pick up the wolf and hoist it over his shoulder. I was impressed.

    ¡°How the heck could you not move this?¡± He looked over to his sister. ¡°Damn things not even that heavy, either you''re getting soft or just lazy.¡±

    Lais ignored Kaloms comment, instead focusing on me. When she knelt down, and began pressing down on my legs, I winced for a second. It felt like needles stabbing into me, painful and yet numbing.

    ¡°Ah, good. You still have feeling in them.¡± She pressed harder.

    ¡°Hey, that one does hurt, you know?¡±

    My voice nearly a plea for mercy, she stopped and an amused smile rose to her face. It was clear she thought that my predicament was funny, after all, that was the second time she had found me in that situation.

    ¡°Kalom,¡± she said. ¡°Can we wait until his legs regain their strength before we have to go back?¡±

    ¡°No can do, pa'' is probably already worried sick by now.¡±

    Kalom eyed me up and down, examining me, trying to think of a solution. Then he grinned something wicked.

    ¡°How about you carry him, since I''m carrying the big game?¡±

    Lais didn''t move her head. she eyed over at me, then back to Kalom, and then to me again. She was clearly trying to decide what to do. I tried to get up, bending my knees ever so slightly to minimize the pain. Lais pushed me back down, and shook her head disapprovingly.

    ¡°Don¡¯t try to act like your fine, you''re not walking anywhere numb like that.¡±

    She then got up, bent down and picked me up as if I were weightless, tossing me over her shoulder. I was dumbstruck, she really was stronger than she seemed, just as Kalom had implied. She showed no strain, no weakness, like she was used to that kind of thing. I looked over to see Kalom smirking, silently chuckling to himself. Which begged the question, why was she not able to move the wolf, but could move a grown man?

    ¡°See, I told you she could have lifted this thing herself.¡± He jostled around the wolf over his own shoulder. ¡°Why she didn''t is beyond me.¡±

    Lais whipped around to face Kalom, annoyed at her brother''s remarks and snapped back. As she did so, I felt nauseous from the sudden movement.

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    ¡°I was panicking, you know I don''t do well under stress!¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. Settle down sis, your gonna hurt the poor kid by swinging him around like a madwoman¡±

    Lais, shook her head in annoyance, turned and with me still slung over her shoulder trekked back into the dense forest and towards the path home. Her brother silently followed, not daring to say anything else to upset his sister.

    As Lais, Kalom and I were on our way back, I thought of something important, something I had yet to ask. I hadn¡¯t asked Lais how I had become poisoned in that clearing where she found me. Perhaps it was some plant I had touched while out there, it seemed likely at the time due to her insistence on me wearing gloves to prevent similar things from happening. Then another thought struck me, an unnerving and intrusive thought; that it was her who poisoned me and that the whole chance meeting with her was planned to gain my trust, or to kill me. Then in the next moment I discounted that as ridiculous, because had she wanted to harm me, she would have done so already. I silently chastised myself for that idea, it was true that during my years as a hired gun I had been betrayed and had betrayed others for money and survival. But to think these two random people who took me in and showed me kindness were of any threat to me at all, was a terrible thing to believe. I purged that idea from my mind, refusing to acknowledge its cynical paranoia.

    I looked up at the night sky as Lais carried me, and for the first time got a good look at the stars. Looking past Kalom¡¯s silhouette was a beautiful void of obsidian black, dotted with the candles of a million worlds. I recognized none of these stars, no constellations, but the moon looked similar enough to the one I knew back home. The last time I remembered looking at the stars prior to that night was on my porch during the summer. The dry heat, the owls and frogs singing, the black above giving way to the spiraling oval of the galaxy so far from my troubles. I had always wanted to see the stars up close as a child, hearing about how almost a century ago man had walked on the moon, had built a space station to learn about the little spots of light in the far distances of the cosmos. They had sent a probe far beyond the reaches of our solar system and into the all consuming mystery that is deep space.

    To me, it was those moments which brought me peace, at least for the moment. In the next, the fleeting awe would always wander back to the things I had done, perhaps my actions in life were what drove me from my love of the stars, never to walk on any other rock but this one. Had I gone to school for my dreams instead of parading around the world playing soldier, I might have had a chance. It was too late to care now, all that mattered was moving forward and evading the thoughts of the past. Surviving was always more important than fantasies. I lowered my head once more, I no longer wanted to see the stars, just to focus on the trip back to the village.

    ¡°Hey Lais,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°How did I end up poisoned in that field where you found me, was it a plant or something?¡±

    Lais didn''t say anything for a long while, I thought for sure she would avoid answering or at least evade. Either way, it would have made me uneasy. But she decided to say something finally, but the answer was worse than I thought it would be.

    ¡°The poison you were affected by was an alchemical mixture, used primarily to restrain prisoners for transport.¡±

    ¡°So it was deliberate?¡±

    Lais sighed, ¡°It seems that way, yes. Though I found no cuts on you or dart marks, so it''s likely whoever did so made you drink the poison while you were sleeping.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s strange, I just got here and already seem to have made an enemy, I wonder why.¡±

    She slowed to a stop. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can walk on your own now. You¡¯re pretty heavy.¡±

    ¡°Is that your way of calling me fat?¡± I joked. I wasn''t fat, we both knew that.

    She set me on my feet and I slowly regained my bearings. It took a minute, but soon I was walking alongside her on my own two feet again, no worse for wear than when we entered the forest. Kalom, still following behind in silence, except for the occasional under-breathed insults to the wolf he was carrying for slowing him down.

    As we walked along the dark paths back towards the village, I looked up at Lais from the corner of my eye. She was quite beautiful even in the dark, her skin almost looked as if it was giving off her own moonlight. I quickly shook myself back to the task at hand, not daring to risk her catching my gaze. The forest was getting foggy, as a thin blanket clouded us, turning the path home into a more treacherous journey. The birds in the forest were not singing, the mist shrouded the stars and the path looked more and more like an endless road to nowhere. As we strode along, Kalom spoke up suddenly, alert and dire.

    ¡°Stop.¡± he said, ¡°don''t move.¡±

    We stopped dead in our tracks. I waited for Kalom to continue, though he paused for a long while. He slowly walked up behind us and then passed, positioning himself ahead of us. I watched as he dropped the wolf onto the ground, and took out his spade. He held it at the ready, like a sword.

    ¡°Whoever¡¯s there, come out. Hiding is a coward''s move.¡±

    Lais¡¯ face turned to a stern, serious expression. I stood there, frozen in place not daring to move, as I watched Kalom stand there before the both of us, facing down whatever was in the fog. I watched my flanks, looking for any sign of movement. As if on command, a shadowed figure appeared from the cloud, and stood before Kalom. Donning a bright green cloak, topped with a hood concealing most of his body, say for a bizarre mask hiding his face. The figure held no weapons, and made no attempts to move further than the very boundaries of the fog. The mask he wore was horrific, violently contorted in a scream of anguish. Its blue coloring made it take on an even more ominous appearance. Kalom shook slightly at the sudden appearance of the cloaked stranger, whether he was afraid or tense, I had no idea at the time.

    ¡°Who-¡± Kalom tried to talk, but the stranger interrupted him.

    ¡°My name is not important at this time,¡± the strange man began. ¡°But my reasons for being here are.¡± His sing-song voice was eerie, not human.

    All three of us waited in both cautious anticipation and curiosity for the stranger to continue.

    ¡°I come bearing both news and well wishes for you,¡± he pointed at me, ¡°dearest Goldwater.¡±

    Lais and Kalom both turned to look at me, curious, but still on edge at the whole situation. I didn¡¯t know what to do, it was confusing for me. But I decided that keeping my cool and playing along was my only real option at that point in time. So I spoke up.

    ¡°What news, And how do you know my name?¡± I asked.

    The stranger chuckled, ¡°Oh, foolish little man.¡± he began, ¡°I know more about you, than you do yourself.¡±

    He paused briefly before speaking again, letting his words sink in. His heavy breathing audible from where I was standing, made thick clouds with every exhale, it seemed like he was straining to simply breathe. Lais and Kalom had turned back fully to face the man by now, fixing their gaze on him. They were watching him intensely, prepared to counter any move he might have made.

    ¡°I come bearing troubling news for you, a would-be assassin and his cronies are preparing to take you prisoner.¡±

    At first, nobody said anything. It was silent for a while, as everyone then present, myself included, processed what they had just heard. An assassin, a kidnapping, multiple conspirators; it was quite literally unbelievable. Also heavy, given it was all laid out in a single sentence.

    ¡°Nice story,¡± I replied finally. ¡°But why would anybody want to kidnap me? Nobody around here say for my friends here know who I am or that I even exist.¡±

    The man laughed heartily, coughing and wheezing as he went. It hurt to listen to, it sounded extremely painful. I looked up at Lais, and saw that she was looking down at me. At the moment our eyes met she looked away hastily, not wanting to make contact. Kalom still stood there like a wall between us and the stranger. Finally the man calmed down, and thumped his chest a few times to clear his throat.

    ¡°Why indeed, ¡®Goldwater¡¯. Why would someone also poison you in your sleep, eh?¡±

    ¡°You know about that?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes, as I said before, I know more about you and your deeds than you care to admit to yourself. That noggin of yours,¡± he tapped his own head with his thumb, ¡°is filled to the brim with sins and personal torments.¡±

    I said nothing, instead allowing the man to ramble on. I wont say that I wasn''t disturbed, but I sure as hell wasn''t going to let him know that.

    ¡°The men who wish to claim you are doing so under the orders of the imperial majesty himself, King Eli ''the Gladius.'' ¡±

    I said nothing, I had no idea who this Eli was, or why he wanted me, but Lais and Kalom were spooked. Lais particularly looked pale, like she had seen a ghost. While Kalom, usually calm and collected, backed away a few steps from the stranger. As I looked back and forth between them both, I knew something was wrong.

    ¡°Who¡¯s Eli?¡± I asked Lais.

    Lais was still fixated on the stranger, her eyes filled with dread, and with a shaky voice replied,

    ¡°H-he¡¯s the ruler of the Imperium, how could you not know this?¡±

    She turned to me, her confusion at my ignorance only making the situation worse. It was not my fault that I didn¡¯t know who this Eli was, just as it was not my fault that I somehow came to this land, But at that moment it did not seem to matter. I turned back to the masked stranger, more intrigued than horrified now.

    ¡°Keep talking.¡±

    The man nodded, and cleared his throat once more.

    ¡°The king wants you for his own reasons, however that is where I must remain discreet.¡±

    ¡°Why?,¡± I asked.

    ¡°My brothers and sisters are already furious at my intervention here today, it¡¯s best that I don''t push my luck or the verbal thrashing I''ll receive will only escalate.¡±

    ¡°Who are your brothers and sisters? Why would they be angry?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that is a tale for another day, mister Goldwater. Now, I must take my leave.¡±

    The man spun around and began to walk back into the thick fog, but as he did so he stopped, Turned back, and looked at me.

    ¡°One last thing, ol¡¯ boy.¡± the stranger said.

    ¡°You might want to work on your pseudonym a little bit.¡±

    I froze, a chill ran down my spine. He really did know about me, but how much I didn¡¯t dare guess at.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    The man chuckled and shook his head disapprovingly, before wagging his finger in the air back and forth. It was covered with a red glove, but I could see that his hand was slim, almost bony.

    ¡°Tsk-tsk-tsk. Goldwater, my boy, I already told you. Though I am quite happy you chose a new name for this exciting journey through the world of Lemuria, ¡®Goldwater¡¯ is a last name.¡±

    ¡°And your point being?¡±, my response was quite unintentionally rude.

    Lais and Kalom both looked at me, trying to figure out what was going on at that point. The entire conversation was confusing, for them and for me. The man continued,

    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t expect to introduce yourself by last name the whole time, yes? Why not use a first and last name, like a normal person?¡±

    Kalom spoke next, ¡°Wait, I thought ¡®Gold¡¯ was your first name and ¡®water¡¯ was your last name.

    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Lais said, now turned to her brother, ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make sense.¡±

    ¡°It makes sense if you look at him,¡± Kalom pointed at me, spade in hand. ¡°His hair is blonde, looks like gold.¡±

    Lais ignored Kaloms remarks, and instead concentrated on me. ¡°What is your name, if not Goldwater?¡±

    Both of them stared expectantly, waiting for my response. I sighed, it was a good time to tell them at least some of my real name, given that the stranger had already let the cat out of the bag so to speak, regarding my pseudonym. Besides, I may not have known them all that much, but I trusted them enough to give them something that small.

    ¡°My first name is Nelson, so Nelson Goldwater is my full name.¡±

    Lais smiled a little, before laughing.

    ¡°What''s funny?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I was just expecting something more I guess. But Nelson is a nice name.¡±

    I cracked a smile in return, ¡°Thank you Lais. Sorry I didn¡¯t tell you or Kalom sooner, but I had my reasons.¡±

    As we talked back and forth, Kalom was surveying our surroundings, the man had disappeared into the fog, leaving the three behind and with more questions than answers. He wondered who the man was, and what his motives were, but came to the conclusion that it was useless to think about those things now.

    ¡°Come on you two,¡± he began, ¡°let¡¯s get moving. I don''t want to meet any more strangers out here.¡±

    She and I stopped chatting, and resumed walking down the path back to the village, Kalom that time leading our group, searching for any more unexpected visitors. After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at the edge of the forest and saw the village''s lights, could smell its food and the smoke from the fireplaces. Lais was exhausted, and was barely trudging along, and I was no better. Kalom seemed alright at the time, but the journey had taken its toll on him as well. As we walked down the oddly smooth streets and back to the house, I remembered what the stranger had said. The idea that there was some plot to kidnap me still sounded absurd at the time. But figured that it would still be best to prepare for such an unlikely event.

    ¡°We should be careful, that man sounded serious about the kidnapping thing.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Kalom said, ¡°they are supposedly only after you, not us. We should be fine.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but what if they strike when we are all together?¡±

    Kalom chuckled, ¡°then using you as a bargaining chip should be easy then.¡±

    Lais had strode up and smacked her brother on the back with an audible thud. He showed no pain or reaction, and just kept walking.

    ¡°That¡¯s not funny,¡± she said.

    ¡°What? I thought it was, besides the kid can take a joke if he can take on a wolf by himself.¡±

    ¡°Still, it¡¯s rude.¡±

    Kalom turned back to see me, smiling. As did Lais, but with a bit of worry. I wasn¡¯t phased by jokes at my expense. In the company, I would get called names by others in my squad all the time. ¡°Yankee¡± and ¡°black-back¡± (a derogatory term for anarchists), were among the most frequent. Jokes about my heritage, being from the Free territories, was also poked fun at. Luckily, in my homeland, we are born with thicker skin so to speak.

    ¡°Sorry Goldwater, didn¡¯t mean to joke about that. Just trying to get rid of the tension, you know?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I hear you Kalom, no harm no foul.¡±

    Kalom turned back to his sister and stuck out his tongue, like a little kid. Causing Lais to reply in kind. I wondered if this is how siblings usually acted, I had no frame of reference given my own life. As we passed the buildings and up the streets, I saw shop signs, written in that weird language that Malkolms books were in. Luckily the signs also had symbols on them, like money-bags, merchants scales, and one with flowers in a bouquet. I speculated the first was probably a bank or lending house, the second a pawn shop and the last one most likely a flower store. The facades were beautifully decorated and ornate with carved wood, and ribbons lining the trims. Much more interesting than the buildings back home, which were mostly log cabins or the occasional brutalist concrete office. I wondered what was going on back home, had anyone else come to this world or perhaps had anyone survived the blast that sent me here? We continued to walk, approaching Malkolms home. The familiar sight of the house and the white arches gave me a sense of comfort after such a long trek, more still with all the night''s events. As we reached the door to the dining room, Lais turned to both me and Kalom, blocking the entrance.

    ¡°Listen,¡± she began, ¡°father will be worried that we did not return in time.¡±

    She looked away and off into the distance, she was nervous about something.

    ¡°So please, Goldwater,¡± she lifted her gaze to mine.

    her eyes were sparkling in the moonlight, so full of life and beauty. It felt like a few minutes before she spoke, though it was just a moment.

    ¡°You cannot tell our father about you using the, uh, ¡®gun¡¯.¡±

    I nodded, ¡°I promise to keep my mouth shut.¡±

    Lais let out a sigh of relief, and smiled. She then looked to Kalom, who also agreed. When she was satisfied with these results, she then turned, and just as she was about to touch the knob, the door swung open. There stood Malkolm, red in the face.

    ¡°You three took your sweet time, didn¡¯t you?¡± He said, very calmly despite his visible anger.

    Kalom, Lais and I stood there, unsure what to say next, but before any of us dared speak up Malkolm was ushering us into the house, and with the last of us inside he gently shut the door. We stood around the table, the wooden surface still bearing the visible wet marks of the coffee we had earlier that day. Malkolm sat down, and motioned us all to also sit which we did.

    ¡°I want to know everything,¡± he began, ¡°what caused you to be so late tonight?¡±

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Gregori~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Gregori and his men had begun to infiltrate the village, they had decided to set up a snatch team in a nearby construction site. It hadn¡¯t been worked on in months, which gave them the perfect place to prepare. The basement was dark say for a dim lantern, the water on the floor puddled in places, while the air was dank with wood rot. Gregori sat alone down there, the only sounds heard were the scraping of a whetstone against a dagger, and the assassin himself humming a tune quietly.

    The dagger was long, dull from use, and the blade was an oily black color. Despite the lack of sharpening, it was quite well taken care of. The hilt was wrapped in a red and blue ribbon, which was stained with blood.

    The sound of footsteps on the stairs made Gregori cease his humming. He looked up to see Berma standing on the last step. They both stared long at each other, then the man nodded and went back up the steps. Gregori knew what it meant, that the team was in place and set up. The operation was to begin soon, and this time he would not screw it up. He had been doing his best to keep himself and his sister alive, and this was his last shot at redemption.

    He would not fail, not this time. He swore to himself that he would take me alive, even if it took his own dying breath.

 Even ghosts weep for the living [PRE PROFESSIONAL EDIT]

    Eli was walking down a long, decorated hallway within his castle. The numerous windows which lined its stretch, gilded and adorned with stained glass images. Each one representing important figures to his father and grandfather before. Most of the people he only knew about from stories he was told as a child, his father said they were from his own world. One which featured more than any other, standing triumphantly before a crowd of peasantry, was a prophet called the ¡°Fuhrer¡±. Eli took very little interest in these, his father¡¯s obsession with the religion was always a thorn in his side. Ruling was about cunning and force, not simply adherence to faith. What''s more, the stories were obviously hyperbole and fantasy. Tales about a great war, and a race of superhumans which wielded a devastating weapon that could end worlds.

    ¡®Sounds like the magic of fairy tales¡¯, he would think often.

    As he strode further down the hallway, he stopped before one window, and looked out at the night sky. The clouds danced across the moonlight, casting a shroud across the fields and rivers below. It was a quiet night, and Eli was thankful for that, it was a rarity given his duties. Feasts, balls, and royal ceremonies were a common occurrence which he was required to attend. He didn¡¯t want any of that, just peace of mind was his solace. He stood there for a while longer, before turning and continuing his stroll. Eventually reaching his destination, he came upon a locked room at the end of the hallway. It was a bedroom, much like the others in the castle, but this one was reserved for those under house arrest, it was rarely used even in the days of his fathers reign. He knocked.

    There was no answer. He knocked again, and a faint voice replied.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    The woman''s voice was weak and harsh to the ears, though Eli was not perturbed. He reached into his left breast pocket and pulled from it a key. As he unlocked the door, he heard the snap of the lock, and opened. There at the right furthest corner of the room lay a dark elf woman in a bed, covered in bundles of blankets and surrounded by pillows. The room was large, a chandelier hung from the ceiling unlit, as the light from the room¡¯s balcony window danced across the hardwood floor and far off walls. Eli had entered slowly, and gently shut the door behind him. As he walked over to the woman, she smiled faintly. The malaise was apparent, which troubled Eli greatly upon seeing her. He sat down beside her, and took hold of her slender hand.

    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± He asked.

    The woman¡¯s smile faded, replaced with worry. She squeezed his hand gently, Eli could tell that she was doing so with all her remaining strength. When she stopped squeezing, she looked up at Eli, and into his eyes.

    ¡°I,¡± she began, her voice still weak, ¡°I am alright¡±

    ¡°Please do not lie to me, I can tell.¡± Eli tried to break a smile, but only half managed.

    ¡°I apologize, my lord¡± The woman looked away for a moment, and off into the distance.

    She saw outside, the balcony¡¯s light was beautiful she thought. She wondered how long it had been since she had been able to go outside and see the stars, how long ago it had been since she could even walk around the room. As she lay there, Eli placed his hand upon her cheek and gently brought her back to the present, as she faced him again he had finally managed to smile.

    ¡°You know better than to call me that. You bow before no king, not even myself.¡±

    ¡°I know, I just wish you would not worry so much about me.¡±

    ¡°I cannot bring myself to do that, my love.¡± Eli leaned forward, and kissed her upon the forehead. ¡°You mean more to me than all the wealth of the Imperium.¡±

    The woman''s smile returned and it seemed to Eli, that for a split second, she was well again. But that fleeting moment passed, and Eli felt in his throat a hot and burning sensation. He would still maintain his own smirk though, for her sake, he thought. The light seemed to glow brighter from without the room, the moon beams floating upon the evening breeze, cooling the summer air within.

    ¡°What have you got my brother doing these days?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Gregori? He is out trying to fix a mess he got himself into, as usual.¡±

    ¡°Are you still telling him that you will punish me if he fails you?¡±

    Eli chuckled under his breath. He had used her wellbeing as a threat for years now, and Gregori was none the wiser to the truth of the matter. For Eli, keeping Edme safe and alive was the most important thing to him. Ruling the country and finding the otherworlder were secondary.

    ¡°I do, if he were to know about us, it would cause problems would it not?¡±

    Edme sat up and forward, leaning against Eli, embracing him. Eli felt the heat in his throat get worse, he followed Edme¡¯s example and gently wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

    ¡°It may cause problems, but it would make things easier in the long term,¡± Edme said. ¡°If a cure were to be found soon, I could spare you the trouble and tell him myself.¡±

    ¡°It is fine my love, you need not worry about those things, I will handle them¡±

    ¡°Do you promise?¡± She asked weakly.

    Edme and Eli sat there in each other''s arms, now bathed in moonlight from the window. Edme nestled up to his warm body, enjoying the company and the comfort. He looked to the window and the moon beyond, and finally after holding it in for so long, began to shed silent tears.

    ¡°I promise.¡±

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Goldwater & CO~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    I was with Lais and Kalom in the dining room, nobody spoke for a time. We had just recounted every detail about our story, even the part where I had shot the wolf, which now was on the porch outside. Though it took some time to coax it from me, Malkolm was a ruthless interrogator, wasn''t as nasty as ''Judge'' but he was efficient.

    ¡°So that¡¯s the whole story?¡± Malkolm said.

    We all nodded in agreement. Malkolm had sat there deep in thought with his eyes shut, piecing together something in his head. He looked troubled, and understandably so given the adventure we described to him. Lais had hung her head, not looking at anyone, while Kalom¡¯s gaze jogged back and forth between myself and his father. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Malkolm opened his eyes and looked over to me.

    ¡°I am happy you all are safe, however this masked man and the supposed plot he warned you about is troubling news.¡±

    The three of us focused our attention on him as he spoke.

    ¡°I know of a group of people who wear masks like the one you described. Whether or not he is a member is questionable, but the fog you described seems to match some of their powers.¡±

    Lais was startled, ¡°powers? What do you mean powers, father? Is it Magick?¡±

    ¡°yes," he replied. "I mean that these men are like me, magicians, in a way. ¡±

    I was initially confused, I had heard Malkolm describe himself that way before, but was unsure what he meant until that point. Since it was a world of elves, giant trees and such; I managed to put two-and-two together though.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°You mean you can do magick, like actual magick?¡± I asked excitedly.

    Malkolm nodded in affirmation. ¡°Yes, that normally is what magicians do. Why?¡±

    ¡°Where I¡¯m from, we don''t have magic.¡±

    Malkolm raised an eyebrow, he had thought he heard wrong at first, but after remembering that I was not a local, he decided to simply ask the question on his mind.

    ¡°Where are you from Goldwater?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m from a place called the Free Territories,¡± I replied.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve never heard of such a place, is it on the continent or across the ocean?¡±

    ¡°Neither, would be my best guess.¡±

    ¡°Neither?¡±

    Malkolm was dumbstruck for but a moment, but then, like myself not a moment ago, had put the pieces together and guessed where I was from.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to be an otherworlder would you?¡±

    Kalom and Lais snapped to attention suddenly, looking back and forth between myself and their father. I sat there a little less stressed than before, I wouldn''t have to explain as much as I thought I would. Though by their reactions, it was clear that it was dire news.

    ¡°I guess that''s a good word for it, though why do you look so disturbed?¡±

    Malkolm sighed, got up, and left the room. He beckoned Lais and Kalom to follow. And as they did so, Lais looked back at me, her expression was troubled. I sat there alone, with nothing but my thoughts. The whole night was mentally taxing. I thumbed my holster, trying to keep myself occupied and to keep any unwanted thoughts at bay.

    As that was happening, Malkolm, Lais and Kalom stood in the study room. It was a massive space filled with shelves of books, and a desk with papers scattered about it. Kalom and Lais stood before the desk while Malkolm sat down. He rested his head in his hands, as he drifted deep into thought.

    ¡°What are we to do?¡± he said, ¡°what are we to do?¡±

    Kalom said nothing, looking around the room and at the many hundreds of books that filled the dark hardwood shelves. Lais paid no heed to her surroundings, focusing on her father and the issue at hand.

    ¡°Well,¡± she began, ¡°he hasn¡¯t caused any major issues yet, maybe we can keep this hidden?¡±

    Malkolm shook his head, ¡°No Lais, this is beyond any of us here. Otherworlders themselves are usually dangerous enough. Though I have no doubts that Goldwater is a kind young man, if not a bit troubled. However that is but the tip of the arrow¡±

    Lais stood silently, listening to her father as he continued to speak.

    ¡°The poisoning, the supposed kidnapping plot, and the idea that it was king Eli who ordered it so,¡± he paused. ¡°It¡¯s suicidal to go against that man. Eli is no fool, nor is he a petty tyrant like his father. However he is still a dangerous and cunning figure indeed. If he finds out that we have harbored Goldwater, he may very well have us imprisoned or killed for betraying his will."

    Lais still said nothing, though her vision was cast down to the carpeted floor. She could feel something boiling deep within her, but was unsure what it was. Kalom sighed, now paying attention to his father fully.

    ¡°Your right,¡± he began, ¡°but Goldwater has us to protect him in the meantime. He is our guest, shouldn¡¯t we at least keep him safe till he¡¯s ready to leave?¡±

    Lais¡¯ head shot up to see her brother, who was then turned to her, smiling.

    ¡°Kalom is right,¡± Lais said, half shouting. ¡°We should at least help him get ready to head out on his own. Its dangerous to let him just leave without tools or information.¡±

    The two of them searched their fathers face for any sign of disapproval, but found none. Instead he stood up, and grinned.

    ¡°You two have grown up to be kind hearted, your mother would be proud of you both. I agree, we cannot allow him to leave unprepared. So in the meantime we will keep him safe as we gather supplies and help him learn what he needs to know to stay alive.¡±

    Lais felt the uneasy feeling inside her die down, giving way to a welcome relief. As the three of them walked back into the dining room, I still sat there. Though by the time they returned I had already passed out, sound asleep from the night''s exhaustion.

    ¡°Kalom,¡± Malkolm began, ¡°take Goldwater to the spare bedroom if you would, please?¡±

    ¡°You got it,¡± Kalom replied.

    He, careful not to disturb me, gently picked me up and headed once more down the hallway, and into what would from that day on, be my bedroom.

    I had a terrible nightmare that night. Running down a long black hallway, no light before me at the end nor behind. I was fleeing from some unknown terror, unseen but for its heavy footsteps and terrible droning voice. As I sprinted forth I heard the mysterious threat bleat forth in a guttural tone;

    ¡°Why are you running, and where off to?"

    I kept going as fast as I could, but my legs were slowed and time seemed to crawl. Soon the hallway ended, and I had nowhere left to go, I beat against the hard stone wall blocking my escape. It was so real, I could feel my fists make contact against the rock, the blood from my knuckles painted the wall and my hands. It was no use, thus I turned to face my death. And saw for the first time my assailant.

    I expected to see a hideous giant, some eldritch abomination with gnashing teeth like razors. But what stood before me was something very unexpected, but not unknown to me.

    There, just out of the reach of shadows and in my view was a man. Just an ordinary man, say for one minor detail about him; his face bore a distinct scar going from one side, to the other. As if someone had struck him with a machete very deep, but I knew the cause of it when I saw his face, for I knew him.

    ¡°P-Parker?¡± I said stutteringly, still trembling from the chase.

    He said nothing for a moment, but a faint smile came across his battle worn face, like he had reconnected with an old friend.

    ¡°It¡¯s been Some time, Nelson.¡±

    I stood there silently, not sure what to say.

    ¡°This must be strange for you, I can tell how nervous you are.¡±

    I nodded. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s been a while sin-¡±

    He cut me off, ¡°Since you murdered me?¡±

    I stared at him scornfully, he knew better but obviously wanted a reaction. I tried to keep cool, but despite myself I let loose.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t murder you, Park¡¯. I killed you, there''s a difference.¡±

    ¡°I don''t really consider deep-sixing an entire bunker full of people as simply ¡®killing¡¯, you sociopath.¡±

    I messed up, and played into his hands, letting my emotions get the best of me then. His smirk was antagonizing and smug, not something I wished to see any more of.

    ¡°To hell with you Parker, you and all your little friends. It ain¡¯t murder to end the lives of people like you. It¡¯s a mercy.¡±

    ¡°Mercy is it now?¡± he replied, his smirk now vanishing. He began striding towards me. ¡°Mercy is killing myself and my father, mercy is killing hundreds of people, both my guys and our families?¡±

    As he got in my face, I turned my head to avoid his eyes. They were the cold, piercing blues of a killer. Despite his words, I knew better. He was one of the worst terrorists I ever had the displeasure of knowing. What he considered ¡®good¡¯ was nearly polar to my morals.

    ¡°Look at me Nelson, look at me in the eyes and tell me that what you did was the right call¡±

    I did. I looked up at him and with fire to match his ice, my anger was rising, I felt the heat rise in my chest and my face. The moment passed with tensity.

    ¡°I did make the right call. And I would again a thousand times over.¡±

    His grin returned, and his gaze softened as he backed away from me. He seemed pleased with himself. I still bore down on his stare, refusing to calm myself. It had been decades since I had seen that prick in the flesh, and I was none too happy to see him standing again before me, dream or no.

    ¡°I just wanted to make sure. After all, what would your new friends say if they found out just what kind of monster you are?¡±

    I froze, and my body went numb. As my anger vanished I felt a cold chill run up my spine at the words he spoke.

    ¡°What did you say?¡± I asked.

    He laughed, full-throatily. ¡°Did that get your attention? Yes, I know about your new pals, they are quite a nice family.¡±

    ¡°Fuck off! you''re dead, and just a nightmare. You don''t know shit.¡± I yelled.

    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m in your head all day everyday, and I see everything.¡±

    ¡°So what, is this just another way for my brain to make me feel like shit? Giving me a dead guy as a stalker now?¡±

    Parker shook his head and reached into the breast pocket of his gray fatigues, and produced a lighter. It was an old and worn flip-up with scratches all over its silver surface, though through all the damage you could still see the emblem of the swastika emblazoned on it. He reached into his right pants pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes, it had familiar black and gold packaging.

    ¡°It¡¯s about time for me to leave you again, kid.¡± He said as he took out a smoke, placed it between his chapped lips, and lit it.

    ¡°Why is that?¡±

    ¡°Because you have a date with destiny, and I ain''t gonna keep you from it. Just know this-¡± he began to turn around and as he did, he took one last look at me. ¡°-You used to be human, And I¡¯m glad you ain¡¯t now.¡±

    He headed away down the black hallway and into the void beyond. All I could do was watch as the smoke from his cigarette and the red cherry at the end, faded into nothing. The acrid smoke starting the fog the hallway as he went.

    Soon I awoke from the dream; Drenched in sweat, head pounding and heart beating like a drum. The sun was shining into the room brightly through the window, and I could hear the sounds of birds outside. They were a comfort to me after such a dark sleep, and I counted myself lucky to be back in a world filled with light. The room was small but homely, it was furnished with an ornate dresser on the opposite end of the bed gilded with what looked like bronze, and a large wooden chest under the window fitted with a black iron lock. A wooden study table not that different in design from the dining room¡¯s with an accompanying chair similarly sanded, was present as well.

    I could hear clamor behind the bedroom door, as someone raced down the hallway and into the dining room from some other place. Since at that time I had no knowledge of the library or other yet to be told rooms of Malkolm''s home I could only speculate why they were scurrying about. As I ripped off the blankets and got to my feet, I stopped half way to stretch my legs and arms. The previous night''s dealings were still in my mind, fresh and worrisome. I tried to keep them in the back of my mind, to no avail. It was about that time I realized that something was wrong, that I had missed something important. I thought, and thought some more at a loss, unable to figure out what was bothering me.

    Then I looked down. And to my surprise figured out quite plainly what was causing me to draw a blank; I was wearing new clothes. My sweater vest, my loafers and even my pants were gone, replaced by a white shirt and pants made of what felt like canvas or more likely burlap. I had not put these on, and I would have remembered doing so I would have thought. Thinking about it filled me with a tang of embarrassment, knowing that it meant someone else had not only given me new clothes, but also had seen my body. It was all the more disturbing as it dawned on me that I also had no idea which one of them had done it. Was it Malkolm or Kalom? If so, that was not as distressing as the alternative. I found that my holster was present, thankfully, on the bedside table. And donning it, a sigh of relief washed over me. Couldn''t have a gun in my nightmares, but I could out here at least.

    I slapped the sides of my face to distract me from my thoughts, and stood up. The sunshine felt warm on the nape of my neck, it was almost certainly hotter than the day before, and I was not looking forward to the prospect of sweating the whole time. Despite my resistance to hot days such as that one, even I have my limits.

    ¡°This is going to be a very bad day,¡± I whined to myself. ¡°Hot day, heavy clothes, and whatever else the world will throw at me I reckon.¡±

 Ensnared [PRE PROFESSIONAL EDIT]

    The sun had shone brightly in the morning dew that day, the near translucent spray left droplets upon the grass which reflected the brilliance of the light. Sounds came from within the village, quiet at first but then as time went on rose to a slight din. The chopping of a nearby ax upon wet wood, and the unmistakable crackles of fire. Smoke arose in several places and could be seen from the construction site, where Gregori lay hidden in the bushes observing. He had slept little as most of his night consisted of him stressing over his plans many details. Despite this, he was wide awake and eager to fulfill his duty. As he sat there, he saw the village folk walking by, smiling and laughing, filled with mirth. Gregori silently sneered at the sight, loathing every light elf he saw.

    ¡°Damned sun walkers,¡± he had said. ¡°They think they are mighty and pure, just because-¡±

    He stopped, and took a deep breath. He had to stay cool, he could not afford to ruin this operation for his own sake surely he thought, but also for Edme. He focused his sight on a nearby group of tents and stalls, the village market. hoping to catch a glimpse of the otherworlder he was after, but also to just see the vendors and their customers. Gregori had never seen an open air market as such before, for his homeland never had such things. Markets were inside buildings and food was rationed not bought as they were in the village. Inside Gregori two things were happening; his jealousy and frustration was growing, and so was his hunger as his eyes fell upon a ripe tomato at one far off stall.

    While his mouth began to water, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he whipped around and in one quick motion, faster than one could see with the eye, drew and pressed his dagger up to the neck of the newcomer. Berma sat there, under Gregori¡¯s weight and the threat of his blade, but made no sound. Slowly he raised one finger to his lips and Gregori withdrew his dagger with a roll of his eyes.

    ¡°You twit,¡± he began, putting away his weapon. ¡°I could have killed you. Maybe ¡®should have¡¯ is the more appropriate thing to say. Don¡¯t sneak up on me like that again if you know what¡¯s good for you, fat bastard.¡±

    As he sat up and Gregori withdrew, the ''fat bastard'' silently chuckled. He was pleased with himself for scaring the elf, and it was not the first time either. Berma and Gregori had been friends for a long while, but still he managed to evoke the ire of his comrade from time-to-time. Often accidentally but more so on purpose as a joke. He was not always an evil man, and his sense of humor would otherwise prove it, had it not been for his other deeds in life.

    ¡°Sorry ¡®gray¡¯ ¡± he began. ¡°Just wanted to let you know that the boys are all set up in the village.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Gregori was half paying attention as his eyes wandered about the nearby market again. ¡°Also, sorry for the dagger, you startled me. Try to stop doing that if you can.¡±

    ¡°You seem on edge my friend. After this scheme, we should make some gruel back at the cliff camp to celebrate.¡±

    ¡°Do you think this is a party, young man?¡± Gregori had a grin on his face, concealed by the shadows of the foliage they both lay under.

    The two went back and forth slowly easing the tension with a few well placed jokes here and memories of better days there. Despite Gregori¡¯s personality and seriousness, Berma was his friend and as such the elf always wished to be courteous and kind to the man. As the two got into the story of when Berma once got beaten nearly to death by a tavern girl and Gregori had to carry him away from town on his back while being chased by an angry mob. ¡®Good times¡¯, Gregori thought, despite himself.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Goldwater & CO~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    I was sitting in the dining room across from Malkolm. A glass of water and a mug of that same black inky sludge from the night before lay before me on the table, as did Malkolm though he had a glass of red liquid instead of water. He took a few sips, or more correctly speaking chugs, of coffee then switched and downed the entire glass of the red substance. The wince he gave was enough to tell me with confidence that it was medicine of some kind.

    ¡°So, Nelson,¡± He began, still struggling with the bitter taste in his mouth. ¡°Shall we continue our discussion from the other night?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely.¡± I replied.

    ¡°Very good, now you said that magick does not exist where you are from, yes?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    ¡°The magick we have here in our world is not the stuff of fantasy or children''s books, but neither is it wholly trivial either.¡±

    The things he said were intriguing me, egging me on to learn more, and thus I didn''t want to miss a moment of it. I loved theory.

    ¡°You see, our magick works on two planes, the physical and the mental. The mental magicks are considered taboo to most as they revolve around causing the victims of said arts to become different people altogether.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°Well for instance, you could cast doubt into someone''s mind, causing them to second guess their loyalties. Or perhaps you can strike fear into their very hearts at your mere presence. While I was a court magician for king Eli¡¯s father, I was taught and warned against ever using these magicks myself.¡±

    ¡°I understand, I think. So using that magick would be considered an invasion of someone''s mind, or in other words-¡±

    ¡°Unethical,¡± Malkolm said, finishing my sentence for me. ¡°A man''s mind is his and his alone, nobody else has any say over this, and to violate that is to violate something profoundly sacred.¡±

    ¡°This sounds familiar,¡± I replied. ¡°Almost like an old way of thinking I learned about in school many years ago.¡±

    ¡°I reckon that''s because it is probably the same one.¡±

    ¡°How do you figure? I¡¯m from another world, how could you have knowledge of our ideas?¡±

    ¡°My boy,¡± Malkolm chuckled. ¡°Do you think you are the only otherworlder to ever come here?¡±

    He got up and left the room, walking down the hallway. I sat there waiting curiously, and after a while he returned. In his left hand he held a big brown book bearing the elves strange language and with his other hand he was dusting the cover off with his robe sleeve. As he sat back down he plunked the tome onto the table and nearly tipped his coffee mug over, though I doubt it would have spilled any out had he done so, the coffee still had the hardness of molasses and hot tar.

    ¡°This is one of our most influential books here in the kingdom of Britona. Maybe you can tell just by looking at the cover what it is?¡± Malkolm said as he handed me the book.

    Upon initially looking at the cover and the letters on it, I couldn''t tell what it said. But the symbol underneath them was a sight for sore eyes. I was at the same time amazed and puzzled that the book was in this world. It was the visage of a man holding the globe on his shoulders.

    ¡°Atlas shrugged?!¡± I looked up at Malkolm, who nodded in high approval at my guess.

    ¡°That, Dear boy, is one of the only copies in existence left.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the rest?¡± I inquired.

    Malkolm sighed, ¡°most were burned long ago when the Imperium vassalized the kingdom. Objectivism is now just a memory from better days. The newer folk are not even taught the old philosophies anymore, it''s both a blessing and a curse.¡±

    That sounded odd to me, ¡°A blessing, how so?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you see when the Imperium banned objectivist teachings, they also did away with other ones which otherworlders brought as well. The so-called Communism, old form fascism and a few others. But we are getting off topic, we should continue our discussion on magick.¡±

    ¡°Alright,¡± I said. ¡°What is the second magick type you mentioned again?¡±

    ¡°Ah, that would be physical magick. The most well known and, well, stereotypical magick. But not in a bad way mind you. It governs the physical world and even other planes of reality.¡±

    ¡°Now that piqued my interest,¡± I said, leaning over the book.

    Malkolm laughed, ¡°I don''t think I''ve ever met someone who is interested in magick quite as enthusiastically as you. Most of my old students found Magology and Geomancy particularly boring. I also find it funny, given that otherworlders cannot use magick.¡±

    Just as Malkolm was about to down another swig of sludge, the dining room door burst open. Unsurprisingly startled, me and the old man turned to see a tower of empty crates stacked haphazardly, on the threshold.

    ¡°By the watchmaker, help me with this, will you?!¡± Came a familiar gruff voice from beyond the pile.

    It was undoubtedly Kalom, but his voice sounded odd. Quickly I and Malkolm sprang to our feet and ran to help move the crates inside. One after another we took turns lugging the heavy things and stacking them once again near the closest of the ornate cabinets. The crates were worn, very old and splintered easily, as I soon found out the hard way; spending a good chunk of the following hour picking wood practically the size of toothpicks from my palms.

    After all was said and done, it was then I noticed Kalom, covered in sweat and wearing an equally dampened shirt not too dissimilar from the one I wore. Though as previously stated, considerably less dry. He was holding in his hand a rolled up paper, and waved it around frantically while panting.

    ¡°I got the shopping list all sorted.¡± he said in between gasps.

    Malkolm shuffled back to his seat at the table as Kalom and I followed suit. As soon as Kalom had sat down, Malkolm motioned for him to hand over the list he held, and he complied. I sat there patiently, watching as Malkolm pondered over the list, item by item and occasionally mumbling to himself under his breath. Kalom had leaned back his chair, seemingly unburdened by anything more as his job, the list making and he crate carrying, had been accomplished. Finally after a short while, Malkolm looked up from the parchment and at his son.

    ¡°Kalom, are you sure this is everything?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Oh yeah definitely, the guildhouse said that those are all the supplies novices need these days.¡±

    Malkolm scratched his chin, deep in thought he said nothing for a time and then stood up without saying a word. He walked down the hallway, leaving myself and Kalom alone for the time being. I looked to him for some clarification, but he only shrugged in similar confusion. An hour passed it seemed, and I had begun to doze off, as it seemed like the old man wasn¡¯t coming back any time soon. But just as I had plopped my head onto my arms on the table, a clang came from the hallway which startled me stiff. I looked up to see Malkolm balancing a collection of objects atop one another, even more unstable than Kaloms tower of crates. Kalom got up before me and we were about to rush to help keep the old man from getting hurt, but he managed on his own without us. He walked over, tossed all the things he held on the table, and leaned on it to catch his breath.

    The things he spread out were diverse, from a group of scrolls, bronze compass, an antique looking brown water skin. To a sword tucked away in a bright white leather sheath and accompanied by a paper bearing a seal, presumably one of those title permits Lais mentioned. The sheath in particular was covered in tally marks numbering at least several dozen from the side facing up, though some of the tallies curved over and onto the other side, meaning many more were likely unseen. Malkolm looked at me and Kalom, giddy with enthusiasm.

    ¡°I can cross a few of the items off this list right now,¡± he said, lazily dropping the paper he still had on the table.

    I glanced over to it and saw it was a bulleted list with bold symbols running across. It was another example of the strange script of the elves, which I realized soon I would have to learn at least somewhat to make life easier for myself. Malkolm picked up the waterskin and held it up.

    ¡°This waterskin served me well during the first elfhen wars.¡± He placed it back down, and then held the scrolls aloft. ¡°And these maps and charts will definitely come in handy.¡±

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I was confused, ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Oh, well we haven¡¯t had the time to tell you yet, but it¡¯s as good a time as any I suppose.¡± Malkolm dropped the scrolls back on the table, and one nearly rolled right off. ¡°Kalom, Lais and I have decided to help get you all sorted to survive in the world outside this village. Which includes giving you gear, information and of course sanctuary.¡±

    ¡°Sanctuary?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sanctuary. We couldn¡¯t just let you wander out and into the forests knowing a conspiracy is in play to capture you.¡±

    I was actually relieved at this news, I had worried the other night about the supposed kidnapping plot. But to know that I would be welcome and safe at least until they decided to send me on my way, was one less burden to bear. Though I found it odd they would let me stay, given the risks.

    ¡°That''s great news, thank you,¡± I said. ¡°But why help me like that, isn¡¯t it a bother?¡±

    Malkolm sighed, and leered down at the sheathed sword on the table, his green eyes were filled with a longing and sadness. I did not know why he had this gaze at the time, but as I came to learn more about him; I realized more and more that he and I were more alike than not. For I knew that pained look, that dull fading of color which I would often find myself with as I polished my pistol and rubbed my fingers over the etchings and grooves. A twinge of remorse, Almost hopelessness.

    Finally he looked up at me, his eyes filled once more with light it seemed, and ever more so. His smile was warm and genuine, but still held back its full strength, a receding memory of some distant thought perhaps.

    ¡°We know it is a burden on us, but we in good conscience cannot just practically send you out to your death. So, the least we can do is try to prepare you for the road ahead. So please, think nothing of it, this is just our way.¡±

    I politely nodded my head, and understood. Where I was from we had similar customs, which promoted that kind of aid to strangers or otherwise. It was not always that way though, as many decades prior to my birth were the ¡®darker days¡¯ so my grandfather Maximillian had told me. He would ramble on about how I should feel lucky to be born in the ¡®age of Hoppes dream¡± and not a blood-soaked hell like he had lived through. But that is a story for another day perhaps.

    ¡°So,¡± Kalom spoke up, and we looked over to him. ¡°That''s a few things crossed off, but we have to go down to the village and get the rest of the items.¡±

    ¡°Very true,¡± Said Malkolm. ¡°So how about you take Nelson with you and show him the village? I am sure he would like to meet some new people, and not just us three old Cird.¡± he laughed as he said this last part.

    ¡°Cird?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Ah, I keep forgetting you aren¡¯t from here, you don¡¯t speak our native tongue nor read our writing. I apologize.¡± Malkolm cleared his throat before continuing. ¡°Cird is our word for our race.¡±

    ¡°So you aren¡¯t called elves?¡±

    Kalom interjected, ¡°we don¡¯t usually call ourselves that, no. It¡¯s the human word for us though, so we can¡¯t really complain all that much.¡±

    ¡°So if you have your own language and such, how do you know mine?¡± I asked, intrigued.

    ¡°It is the language of the Imperium,¡± Malkolm chimed in again, retaking the discussion from Kalom. ¡°After the Imperium formed and conquered the continent, it became the common language across the vassalized states, thus it¡¯s just called ¡®common speak¡¯ or ¡®common¡¯, for short.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± I replied, though my curiosity had not been satisfied, only whetted for the time being.

    It was then that Kalom got up and stretched his back with a groan.

    ¡°Time¡¯s being wasted, let''s let going.¡± He said to me, before turning to his father and finishing with, ¡° We¡¯ll be back soon, unlike last night''s escapades.¡± He gave a subtle grin in my direction.

    Kalom picked up the list from the table, folded it, And secured it in his pocket. Getting up, he along with me, we headed to the door. Kalom opened it and we both stepped out into the noon sunlight. The sun''s rays glinted across far away metal and glass, the village was illuminated as if a fevered dream, forcing me to squint to see. Kalom shut the door behind us and patted me on the back, the wide grin on his face giving away either his enthusiasm or misguided amusement at my struggle.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to the glare. Been living here most of my life, so the sunlight doesn¡¯t bother me much these days. Come on, let¡¯s get down there.¡±

    Soon he and I were strolling across the path leading from the house, which we had all come up from the night before during our harrowing forest excursion. The road was paved, as I had noticed before. But what I was surprised to see was that it was not shiny stone at all which was laid, but metal. And as we got closer to the main street with the buildings, I could see that it too was laid with the same shiny, slightly blackened alloy. I must not have noticed during the night as we were so exhausted and obviously, examining a road to note its composition was not on the agenda of that night.

    ¡°Kalom,¡± I began.

    He turned his head slightly, eying down at me while also trying to look ahead.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, kid?¡±

    ¡°What is this road made of?¡±

    Kalom pondered for a moment as we walked, then said,

    ¡°Starling silver.¡±

    I was sure I misheard him on two accounts. He could not have meant the road was laid with actual sterling silver, and what was more, that he had mispronounced it as ¡®starling¡¯.

    ¡°You mean, ¡®sterling¡¯ silver, right?¡±

    He paused. ¡°That¡¯s a weird way to say it, but yeah. Starling silver is what we use to pave roads in Britona. Why, I''m guessing otherworlders don''t use metal to make roads?

    ¡°No, we don''t. We use tar and asphalt.¡±

    He continued walking, and I followed close behind, trying to keep up as his pace quickened. We passed a well decorated shop, bearing purple banners and ribbons, its symbol sign was that of a bed and a heart above it. Given the appearance, as well as the occasional patron walking out with an air of chipper relief on their faces, I had reasonably guessed it was a brothel. The building''s porch was beautifully carved, with figureheads of fairies and deer dancing across a porcelain white fence. Beside the brothel was a bakery, and though less ornate, still captured its own beauty with a pinkish wooden facade and many vertical white stripes going around it, like a candy cane.

    ¡°I have no clue what asphalt is, but tar I do know. But we would never use that gunk for roads, sounds ridiculous. Are you sure you aren''t just pulling my leg?¡±

    ¡°No, I''m serious, that''s what we use it for back home. What do you use it for here?¡± I asked.

    Kalom smiled a little, like he was proud of something. ¡°The best damn tar bombs in the Imperial arsenal.¡± he said, expounding a sense of pride with every word he uttered.

    ¡°So you use it for weapons? I guess that would be useful, but why do you sound so upbeat about that?¡±

    Kaloms pride crumbled into embarrassment, as he became aware of his own outburst of emotion. His face was almost beet red as he spoke.

    ¡°Well, I uh- you see¡± he began.

    I tried to urge him onward, ¡°Yes?¡±

    But he ignored me and moved along. He stopped in front of a redwood stall, its beams were not as decorated as the surrounding buildings, but it was certainly well made. The roof of it was a cloth tarp, bearing red and orange stripes, and despite the few holes in it, it was exceptionally well maintained and clean. The wind would occasionally lift the top up gently, giving it a more animated feel. The man behind the counter was another elf, like Kalom or Lais, but he looked slightly darker in complexion. It took me a moment to realize that his skin was actually not darker but covered in gray paint, in a familiar blotched pattern.

    ¡°Nelson, this here is my good friend Mael, and Mael,¡± he said motioning to me, ¡°this is the guy me and my old man have been taking care of, Nelson.¡±

    Mael bowed slightly as a courtesy. ¡°It is a good thing you dropped by.¡±

    His accent was harsh to the ears, nothing like Kalom¡¯s. It was reminiscent of some cruel amalgamation of Scottish and perhaps some French. As he went on, I tried my very best to be polite despite the difficulty I was having even understanding what he was saying.

    ¡°I have myself a new stock of goods that need buying and I know you love to see new wares when they come in. Today I got my hands on some Daeg snuff, rare to get these days after the wars. I also plucked a few barrels of coffee and a small table casket of Re?di wine.¡±

    Kalom shook his head, ¡°not today friend, just need to pick up a few bits I saw here the other day.¡±

    ¡°Aww, that''s alright. So what be you needing on this fine day?¡±

    Kalom pointed past Mael, to a basket behind filled with clothes and footwear. It was overflowing with pants and shirts and much more to the point where some had fallen out and onto the ground. Luckily the stall had a fur carpet down to prevent dirt and dust from soiling them.

    ¡°You should know better friend, the clothes I get are too small for you.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Kalom said. ¡°They aren''t for me, but for him.¡±

    The shopkeep eyed me up and down, taking mental notes of my figure. I was shorter than the elves, I only came in at five-foot-six, while they were at least six feet even, so him doing this was understandable. The man turned to the basket, rummaged through it and pulled out a few articles. With a grunt, he gathered them up and dropped them loosely on the stall window, where I saw he had selected some very worn clothes. An battered old yellow overcoat and an equally weather-worn checkered shirt for under it, a pair of brown pants which were well cared for, say for a single knee patch. He then produced a hat that I recognized as a ¡®boonie¡¯. I found it odd that such a hat would exist in this world, but it was only a passing curiosity.

    ¡°These were once Daeg folk¡¯s clothes,¡± he said to Kalom. ¡°So they should fit this little guy, seeing as how tall he aint.¡±

    ¡°Good, oh but what about boots?¡± Kalom looked down at my shoes disapprovingly.

    ¡°What is wrong with my shoes?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Remember the forest trip the other day? I noticed that you walk funny in them, obviously you need better footwear for the terrain.¡±

    Mael turned back to the basket, picked up a pair of brown boots and showed them to Kalom. Kalom thought for a moment, and nodded. The shopkeeper placed the boots on the counter with a smile, and leaned on an unused part of it.

    ¡°Anything else?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Nah that should be plenty good, so what''s the price?¡±

    Mael was lost in thought for a moment and was murmuring to himself. Evidently doing math in his head and coming up with a good number. Soon he stood up, stretched his back and took one last glance over the items before him.

    ¡°Five silvers ought to be a fair price.¡±

    Kaloms expression turned to one of intense focus, he squinted his eyes and his gaze dashed between the clothes and his friend.

    ¡°Five is a little steep for these, don''t you think?¡±

    ¡°How so?¡± he replied.

    ¡°These are obviously pre-owned, and look at them,¡± Kalom held aloft the overcoat. ¡°This is beaten and parts are threadbare.¡±

    Mael smiled a little as Kalom said this, and snatched the coat from his hands.

    ¡°This old thing? Sure it''s old, and it''s worn and used up, that just be how things go these days for the little folk. If ya be right to ask me I¡¯d say this here is a rarity these days. How many Daegesh coats you ever see in these times?¡±

    At first I thought the two were fighting over the price, but after that comment I understood what was happening. Much like back home, people would haggle for things instead of simply relying on what people called ¡®old-school pricing¡¯. Seeing a haggle happen was always a fun and exciting thing to witness. Not only would it help people learn the craft as they grew up, it also for some reason made my heart feel glad to see. Every merchant who managed to get a price raise, every customer who got to walk away happy with a discount, every bit of it was an experience and a happy one at that. Reminded me of better days.

    ¡°Rare? Sure it¡¯s rare, but also damaged. And look at those pants, the knees been patched over and shabbily too.¡±

    Kalom smirked, impressed by his own retort. Now the two stared long and hard at each other, not blinking or lowering their guards nor grins. It was like witnessing the standoff between two generals on the cusp of battle, both fighting for something, a goal or desire. Though those two were only after a bargain, not some glorious victory over evil or the hand of a maiden back home; yet still they in their own way were noble in that battle of wits they were locked in. Finally though, Mael cracked first.

    ¡°Bah, alright,¡± he said, blinking over and over to water his dried eyes. ¡°Three Silvers and not once a copper less. Gonna put me shop out of business one¡¯a these days.¡±

    Kalom guffawed in triumph, drawing the attention of a few nearby shoppers. That attention seemed to only last about as long as he laughed, as they soon went about their own business, heeding us no more mind.

    ¡°Three Silvers it is my friend, and as always it¡¯s a pleasure doing a good bit of trade with you.¡± Kalom said this while reaching into his pocket, and producing a small sack which jingled.

    It was a sack made of the same burlap as our shirts, but dyed brown and gray, and the purple drawstring was uncomplimentary to the thing. As he reached into it, he pulled out and placed three silver coins onto the counter. As I eyed them, I realized they each had writing on them going around the ring, and in English no less. They said:

    ¡°For usage with all exchanges private and stately by law and required as such. Forgery is forbidden under pain of death.¡±

    And in the very center of the coin lay a symbol of a bull''s head within an ouroboros, a sword stabbing down through the bull and out the bottom. Underneath was the phrase: ¡°Imperium Semper Victorem¡±. I found it odd that the ruler of the lands head was not on the coins, as they used to be back home in the old days long before I was born. Apparently kings and presidents would emblazon their visages on coinage as a sign of strength and glory. But not so here I assumed. Mael quickly swept the coins off of the counter and into the palm of his hand before placing them under the counter.

    ¡°There we be, enjoy the clothes and don¡¯t be no stranger, come again soon.¡± He said, still putting on a diplomatic smile.

    Kalom picked up the coat and pants and motioned for me to pick up the other things, and then as we began to walk away, he waved goodbye to his friend. As we walked further into the village we entered a large circular plaza, filled with many more vendor stalls and surrounded by many buildings of various varieties. Each one decorated and furnished and painted in different ways. Tailors, pubs and inns, an apothecary with a marble statue of a mortar and pestle on its porch facade. The town was beautiful and nearly pristine, and as we walked I looked around and saw as much as I could. Kalom and I stopped at a few stalls picking up more items along the way, and soon we had all sorts of items which would come in handy down the line. As we meandered down a side street with the things we bought now tucked in canvas bags which we had also bought, I thought it would be a good time to continue our conversation.

    ¡°Kalom,¡± I began.

    He said nothing, he knew what I was about to ask. I tried again,

    ¡°Hey, Kalom.¡±

    He stopped and turned to me. His face was that of caution, but trying desperately to hide it from me. Needless to say, he was a terrible liar even with his face.

    ¡°You never finished your story about those tar bombs, Why?¡±

    He took a deep breath and sighed, and motioned with his head to an alley ahead of us.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get off the street and I¡¯ll tell you.¡±

    I was unsure why he was being so cautious, but I agreed and we went down the silver street and into the alley ahead. The wooden walls of the buildings on either side were not good at keeping noise from getting out. I had heard the sound of a customer inside the left one raising her voice slightly so I could partially overhear her and the shopkeep or clerk responding.

    ¡°I asked for dandelion root yesterday and you said you would have some by today.¡± Came the densely muffled woman¡¯s voice.

    In response the man said to her, ¡°I am sorry m¡¯lady but if you could just-¡± his voice grew dimmer as me and Kalom passed out of range and into the depths of the alleyway. We came out the other side and into an opening between the two buildings but also around three others. It was not as noisy as the alley itself, and it was almost peaceful. Kalom sat down on a wooden step at the back exit of the largest building which consumed most of the alley''s furthest wall, and I sat beside him, placing my bags by my feet.

    ¡°The reason I pulled you in here is because I need to make some things perfectly clear,¡± he said.

    His voice was stern, but not unfriendly, it was more like a teacher sitting a child down to explain something to them. So I listened.

    ¡°I understand that you are new to this world and that everything is also strange to you. But we elves do not like talking about our pasts. I don¡¯t have any ill will towards you asking, don¡¯t get me wrong Nelson.¡± He said, patting me on the back.

    ¡°We have a hard history to get over, and have done a lot of things we shouldn¡¯t have. Like the tar bombs, and a few other things ... I don¡¯t really like talking about them to others, though they were once something I was proud of.¡±

    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you anymore?¡±

    Kalom groaned, ¡°Didn¡¯t I just tell you- you know what, fine.¡± He took a deep breath and began his tale.

 Intermission: The Elfhen wars; Kaloms account (80 years before present day)

    ¡°You are upset, I understand that. But please just listen to reason, my son.¡± Malkolm begged.

    Kalom stood there before his father, mother and sister. While beside himself were two imperial engineers. Kalom was wearing a blue tunic, brown burlap pants accompanied by a belt made of leather, the uniform of the Britonic armed forces. He was much less robust than his latter days, but still had the beginnings of tone showing through. Malkolm clasped his hands together, pleading, his red robes emblazoned with the symbol of a withered tree were splattered with dry blood. Lais, Kalom¡¯s sister, was emotionless. But her mother, standing beside her, was weeping silently. A dry wind blew through the open door to the house, it was going to rain soon, and the air smelled of it. A dark omen to all present.

    ¡°You can¡¯t stop me old man, I¡¯m going. That''s final.¡± Kalom replied to his fathers plea.

    ¡°Don¡¯t throw your life away for some idiotic revenge my son, please, stay and learn and live in peace.¡±

    ¡°You think I don¡¯t want peace?! I¡¯m going to kill those Cith bastards for their betrayal of our people. They want our ways extinguished, our kingdom shattered!¡±

    Kalom approached his father, getting angrier with every word he spoke before his voice was almost a shout.

    ¡°First they burn the village of Malanos, then they rape and plunder their way across the lands of the Imperium and even kill my friends, our friends, mothers and Lais¡¯s friends. They destroy everything they touch and yet you expect me to just sit idly by while innocent people suffer? While people we know die?!¡±

    Malkolm said nothing, his head downcast, his face was hot and the burning in his throat rushing up from his heart like a tsunami. The two men with Kalom said nothing either, not wanting to get involved. Kalom turned to his mother, and despite seeing her tears and the fear on her face, he looked away and turned to leave.

    ¡°Let''s go, I¡¯m done he-¡± Kalom was stopped by a sudden tug from behind.

    Malkolm had grabbed hold of Kalom¡¯s shirt from behind, gripping it with all the remaining strength he had left to give.

    ¡°Please,¡± he said quietly, his voice weak and Whimpering. ¡°I do not doubt your ideals, but I do not wish you to die.¡± Tears began to run down the old man''s face. ¡°A father should not bury his own son.¡±

    Kalom stood still, not speaking, neither did his father, as slowly his grip released. As Kalom walked out of the dimly lit house with his companions, he did not even bother to turn back or wave goodbye. He couldn¡¯t, not because he was angry, but out of fear they would see his own tears falling from his face as he left. As he did, his mother Regaia fell to her knees and sobbed.

    Seven years had passed as he and his comrades built and used alchemical weapons in the war against the Cith, the dark elves. Deep within the trench lines of Ourberash heights, he and his team of bombard alchemists were involved in dark matters with their commanding officers. He and his men stood at attention before a man wearing the mail of the royal battery corps. His armor was easily distinguishable among the rank and file due to its bronze color and his helmet plume, a royal burgundy.

    ¡°Listen and listen well for his majesty, King Parker ¡®the Aryan¡¯ of the Imperium, sends his decrees and regards for you all.¡± The General had spoken more like a town crier, rather than the lord of the corps. ¡°He is most pleased with your successes in the battles of Frenthorpe and Bourlo. And he is especially pleased with your alchemical engineering, moreover he has also sent a decree for you to enact his will.¡±

    The men glanced at one another silently, Kalom included. He knew that usually this was how the empire worked. The Generals would send praise, then order their men to do even more work. He and his subordinates were some of the best siege artillery in the southern theatre and thus were used to this kind of bait and switch.  The officer whistled and two enslaved Recdi, who the humans called ¡®dwarves¡¯, brought in and set down a large metal box, they bowed and backtracked out of the bunker bowing and stumbling all the way. Lifting the cover, the officer reached in and pulled out a live cannon shell. It was black like most others, but on it was a symbol of a cloud and a skull in red.

    ¡°This is the lord¡¯s newest invention, produced by the magi of his court and the brilliant mind of one Malkolm Grendau.¡± He said, looking at Kalom. ¡°And if I am correct, that would be your father, is he not, sir Kalom Grendau?¡±

    Kalom straightened up at the mention of his father, though his superior assumed it was due to his questioning.

    ¡°Yes m¡¯lord. He is my father.¡± He said in reply.

    ¡°Very good. Today you will cement your family legacy as the heroes of the southern lands. These balls,¡± he said, holding it in one hand. ¡°are the latest innovation in the technological arts of the otherworlders which your father has reverse engineered.¡±

    The men eyed the ball and its symbol intently, some already beginning to put the pieces together in their minds as to what effect these weapons held. Kalom already knew the answer to that riddle, as he knew about and aided in his fathers work for many years. But to see the thing in front of him, real and presented to be used, caused him to drip with sweat and a chill to run up his spine.

    ¡°These are alchemical gas bombs as you know. The symbol on the side is particularly useful to tell this, as we in the higher echelons know that many of you are grossly illiterate. Anyhow, the lord has ordered that these bombs be tested in the field and therefore have been chosen for usage in this theatre.¡±

    The man droned on about the technical aspects and the gas used as well as the arming process. But all the while Kalom drowned his voice out with the doubts in his mind. He knew the effects of that weapon, he had helped his father concoct that poison many years prior as an apprentice under him. In liquid form, it was called ¡®doubled sanguine¡¯, and would cause immediate and immense torment and suffering as the victim perished. But it was only ever used on rodents and wolves; and even then its use was seen as barbaric by all who worked on it. But to use it on Cith, on Daeg on anyone at all was a thought that now plagued his mind. After a while the battery was assembled and Kalom, wearing his yellow plumed commander''s helm, ordered the first barrage. The bombards opened their first salvo and onto the nearby and besieged city of Lelinos, and waited.

    The guns had settled and silence came over the battlefield, the only sound was the pattering of raindrops onto the mud. But after a moment, the sounds returned, and oh how they returned. Kalom never forgot the screams, they could be heard from the city miles away. Muffled by the distance as they were, yet haunting. After a few hours, trumpets sounded, which Kalom knew meant to advance to the new front lines, and which to his horror, also meant going through the bombed out city, now conquered and dead. As he and his men approached, the bombards wheeled behind them and pulled by more Recdi slaves in chains, Kalom dreaded every step he took.

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    ¡°I do not want to see,¡± he thought to himself. ¡°Please don¡¯t let me see it, Watchmaker in Christ, save me from this.¡±

    But no god came. The walls rose the closer he got and he could see the battlefield around him. Ruined tents, bent and sundered spears and swords tossed across the ground and plunged into the corpses of men and elf alike. Blood pooled in many places, the rain began to mix with the filth to make diluted pink mud. The smell of death and decay, a pungent and ever present miasma. A few of the men were uneasy, but Kalom most of all. The walls were tall and battered in, tattered banners draped over the sides with the symbol of a crown and spear sewn on their remains. The beaten walls and the broken down gates made the place look more like a tomb than a city, and that description was not at all unapt.

    Kalom upon entering the city started to see the damage he had caused. Many dead littered the ground, mostly warriors defending the city. But he could see the corpses as they lay, some had their fingers still lodged in their necks, digging desperately for air to enter their lungs. The eyes and nose and mouths of them all were blackened and caked in blood which had left them upon their innards dissolving. Kalom began to hyperventilate slightly, seeing the results of his and his fathers experiments firsthand. Luckily for him and his men, the gas was temporary and dispersed within minutes, however once inhaled it was the end for you.

    The column marched through the city, passing the doomed soldiers and the adventuring mercenaries of the dark elves, and into the city square. At the sight he threw up, and others did as well. There in the square were hundreds of citizens who lay dead, some had tried to flee but most had no time at all to do anything when the gas came. Women, children, dark and light elves alike, humans and Daeg and Recdi all filled the streets and alleys. Kalom felt his heart shatter as he regained his composure and marched on, but the faces of those he passed would not leave him. Why they had not fled to the city''s bastion was apparent as they trudged past it. The nobles had fortified it for themselves, but not even barricades could stop the gas. The silence across the city was the loudest thing Kalom had ever heard, aside from the screams in his memories.

    Soon they left the city and back into open fields as they marched onward towards the capital of the south; Aratis, city of the lady Edme, queen of the dying stars. Kalom never entered the city, but he and his men faced great opposition in the coming months. Trenches were dug, bombards were fired and many battles of spear and sword erupted across the woodlands surrounding the countryside. Kalom one day peered out and across no man''s land, he watched the fog and the clouds cover the wastes before him. As he did so, one of his men, a fat man in chainmail, came up behind him and patted him on the back.

    ¡°How are you feeling tonight, m¡¯lord?¡± he asked kindly.

    Kalom turned and smiled as he said, ¡°I¡¯m fine, go rest. I have the first watch tonight.¡± His smile though, was hollow, unbeknownst to the soldier.

    His subordinate bowed, turned on his heel and marched down a trench path and into a bunker below, the clanking of his armor disturbing the silence as he went. Kalom waited until he was gone, turned back to the fog and let go of his facade. The mists danced across the field like smoke and the clouds of black overhead appeared as specters of death waiting for him, taunting him.

    ¡°I wish I had never left home,¡± he began silently to himself. ¡°This is not war, I don''t know what this madness is, but it is not what I was sold.¡± Without realizing it, he began to shed tears and his voice became cracked. ¡°Knights were supposed to be noble. Sieges were to be against the wicked. So why?¡±

    He knew only the tales told to him by his father and mother, children''s stories. So when he thought back to the battles he had seen, the blood and the gore and the unending screams and wailing he fell to his knees and then sat on the ground sobbing into his hands as he wept. He had gone to try and make people''s lives better, by fighting an invader. But the stress and the deeds he had done had finally started to catch up to him. After a while, without noticing, a figure approached him silently and peered down at him.

    ¡°What a pathetic sight.¡± The man said.

    Kalom, recognizing the voice, tore his face from his hands and looked up to see the general, no longer wearing his bronze mail but a normal set. Despite this his helmet was the same as before with its burgundy topping.

    ¡°Let me guess, you''re afraid. Or perhaps regretting a few deaths of the weaker willed?¡±

    Kalom was struck with fear, weakness was punishable by superiors. And by the look of the man before him, he was definitely in for a beating. The man was furious as he leered at Kalom, and the elf could feel that rage resonating off of him by his mere proximity.

    ¡°Sir, I beg for your for-¡±

    ¡°Enough,¡± the General said, interrupting Kalom. ¡°I have no intention of laying hands on you, captain. After all, I can''t have you running to daddy dearest in the capital to tattle on a corps general for smacking some courage into you.¡±

    Kalom said nothing, he just sat there looking up at the imposing man before him. He was weaker in height and brawn than Kalom, but it was the man¡¯s authority that scared him, not his hale or lack thereof. The general rolled his eyes and in an unexpected gesture, reached out his hand to pull Kalom up. Kalom was dumbstruck, but after a brief instance of hesitation he reached out and clasped the hand of his better, who began to heave him to his feet.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get you up,¡± he said quieter.

    As Kalom got to his feet and wiped the mud and the tears from himself, the general spoke again.

    ¡°When I was a young man, I feared war. I had seen it when the wars first came.¡±

    He motioned for Kalom to sit atop the trench wall''s wooden watch, as he spoke. Kalom did so as he was told and as the man continued further. He listened intently to the story he was about to be told.

    ¡°I saw my mother killed back then, taken by consumption, and me and my father and brothers were all that was left to fill the hole in wake of her. So when the war came, my family experienced the ultimate loss; annihilation.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so sor-¡± Kalom tried to say, but was silenced by the speaker, who held up a finger.

    ¡°As I was saying, the wars came. The village we lived in was large, not a well off one though. Plenty had died from the sickness at that time, so loss was a regular occurrence. But when the flames rose on our roofs and the arrows like daggers pierced our walls from above, that''s when I experienced true loss. I watched my brother Wilhurd, little more than a boy of fourteen, skewered with a hail of arrows as he tried to flee to the safety of the house. He was the first to die.¡±

    The general went on but never raised his voice, only talking as if it were a normal conversation about the weather or the king¡¯s orders. And as Kalom silently listened he was increasingly on edge.

    ¡°My father, then stricken with grief, tried in vain to pull the corpse of my brother inside, pleading for him to be alive. But the arrows kept coming and he fires continued rising as the enemy pounded our homes with catapults of brimstone. Soon he stopped weeping, got up from Wilhurd¡¯s side and without a second thought for even me and my other brother Bolivar, rushed outside to his death. He was spared the arrows or the flames, instead getting cut down by blade. The enemy rend his body with ax and sword and flail. Despite him being the second death, the invaders did not stop there.¡±

    The general had drawn his sword, mock waving it around before plunging it into a sandbag on the trench as he spoke about his fathers death, letting loose a torrent of dry dust onto the mud below.

    ¡°The last to die was my second brother, the youngest of us. Bolivar, who refused to hide under the floorboards with me, opted for the cupboard instead. I could not see his death, but the body was unrecognizable as even being human by the time they stopped bludgeoning him.¡±

    Kalom was horrified, both at the tale and also the calmness of the man talking about the experience.

    ¡°M¡¯lord,¡± he began. ¡°Why are you so calm about this tale?¡±

    The commander smiled, before sheathing his sword, still covered in sand, and put his right hand on Kaloms shoulder. Kalom did not know what to say or do, scared he sat still like an animal trying to not be seen by a predator about to strike.

    ¡°Because my boy, I learned from that experience, I learned that war is messy. And despite my loss, I could do something much better than mourn or beg on the streets.¡±

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Kalom asked.

    ¡°I Got even. And moreover, I took my revenge on the barbarians who did those evil deeds. I joined the Imperium''s armies, and here I am to this day. So do not weep for the greyskins. Remember why you yourself are doing these things. You joined to become a hero of some kind, yes? To stop their rampage throughout your homeland? So stop crying, get up and keep to the watch. You''re doing the lord''s work here, and protecting your home at the same time.¡±

    ¡°But some of them are inn-¡±

    ¡°There are no innocent dark elves. Never forget that phrase, keep it in your mind as you fight and it will stick with you.¡± The general stated, before turning and leaving Kalom alone to his thoughts.

    End of Intermission

 POW: Prisoners of Wrath [PRE PROFESSIONAL EDIT]

    As I sat there beside Kalom, he began speaking about his time in the imperial military, and his time as a captain of a bombard unit. He talked a long while about his experiences using tar bombs to destroy enemy trench and bunker lines. I was impressed to say the least, the guy had talent for commanding it sounded like. Takes a good aim too, launching mortars, or in his case ¡®bombards¡¯. The mention of bunkers brought back some unwanted troubles, but quickly I managed to shelf them again. No use dredging up that shit, not then at least. I could have sworn I heard a lighter snapping shut as I focused on Kalom, nearly shuttered at that, but kept my cool.

    ¡°And then as we heard the horn blow,¡± he was saying, ¡°we let loose the final volley we had left and then BOOM!¡±

    He exclaimed the word with his hands thrust forward, which was somewhat silly but did not at all take away from the story, if anything it added some emotion to the tale.

    ¡°That bunker was gone, nothing but a blackened mess. And that¡¯s why I know my way around a tar bomb, kid.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a kid, but still that was quite an amazing story.¡± I said.

    Kalom patted me on the back, which despite his strength did not hurt this time. He lowered his arms onto his knees and looked up at the sky above, the bright blue heavens above occasionally blotched with the puffy white clouds, seemed so peaceful to him. His smile faded, and took a somber expression.

    ¡°Nelson?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You said you were a mercenary, yes?¡±

    ¡°I was,¡± I responded. ¡°When I was a younger man. A long while ago.¡±

    My own expression was grim, but it was my own fault. I had poked the bear, and now it was my turn to get prodded it seemed. Kalom turned to look at me, I could see the age on his face, its wear shown despite his common youthfulness. His eyes were tired, bleak. The best way to describe his gaze was that of an icy pale pain, the gaze that I knew well.

    ¡°Do you have any regrets in your career?¡± He finally managed to stutter out.

    I had paused, unsure what to say. I hated talking about my work, always have. So him asking me that question started to bring up to the surface some more unwanted memories. Ones better left in whatever filing cabinet held them in the deepest recesses of my mind. Gored comrades, executions, civilian casualties and allied alike. But before I could answer, my saving grace appeared.

    ¡°There you two are!¡±

    The voice was sweet and caring, a gentle breeze fit to break the discomforting silence. It was Lais. As she came into the alley I could see that she was in a dress colored sunflower yellow, and her usually long and flowing hair had been braided, and adorned with flowers of all different kinds. She stood there speaking to us, but for what felt like a brief moment, time seemed to stop. She was so beautiful that I could not help myself, finally when she noticed me staring she burst out laughing and I came back to my senses. Just in time for Kalom to snap his fingers in front of my face.

    ¡°Hey, kid. Wake up.¡±

    I warily eyed Kalom, who was half snickering and half sneering almost. It was very hard to tell at the time. Lais, who was now trying to get a grip on herself, took a few deep breaths.

    ¡°You know," she began, ¡°it¡¯s very rude to stare at a lady, especially one you aren¡¯t courting.¡±

    She was still regaining her balances but for the most part the outburst had subsided. Despite her words, she was not angry with me, but rather seemed almost amused at my careless daze. But I could feel Kaloms glance on me like a knifepoint despite his own humored reaction, so I treaded carefully.

    ¡°Sorry Lais, I didn¡¯t mean to cause any offense.¡±

    ¡°Offense? Nonsense, I¡¯m rarely offended these days, and certainly not by mere wandering eyes.¡±

    Kalom huffed. ¡°What my sister means,¡± he said, ¡°is that she attracts looks from practically every man in the village.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s certainly a crass way to put it.¡± She replied, her tone shifting to one of slight reproach.

    ¡°Sorry again,¡± I reiterated, ¡°but you look alot different than the day you found me is all.¡±

    ¡°Oh the hair, you mean?¡± She turned her head to the side showing off her braids.

    ¡°Oh uh, yes the hair was different, that¡¯s what caught me off guard.¡±

    She smiled again, before motioning for us to follow her out of the alley. And as we did so, we had no idea what awaited us soon after.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Gregori~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Gregori was growing ever more tired as the time passed, but despite that he continued his vigil. Watching from the bushes his ire began to build, with every passing moment of time he became more impatient and frustrated, unable to find his target in all the crowds. Berma had fallen asleep against a tree just behind him, nuzzling up between exposed roots in the ditch they were next to. As noon rose and began to set, the dark elf started to doubt that he would find his quarry. Thus frustration turned to fury and then to a pained worry.

    ¡°Show up already, you fool.¡± He quietly demanded to nobody.

    He looked behind and to Berma, as he saw the fat man fast asleep, he felt a little calmer, more relaxed. He started thinking about sleep himself, but quickly shook that notion away as he tore his gaze back to the plaza ahead. And just by chance, he found what he was looking for.

    As he turned, he had a brief glimpse of me, walking behind my two companions, before I disappeared behind a stall.

    ¡°Finally,¡± he said, turning to his sleeping partner. ¡°Berma. Berma get up you fool!¡±

    He rushed over to his friend and shook him, tearing the man from his dream. At this he was not at all pleased.

    ¡°You old cretin, I was surrounded by beautiful women and rum. You could have at least waited till I had my fill.¡±

    ¡°You can drink your wicked rot-gut when we get home, now get up.¡±

    "Fine, fine I''m up. Anyhow, why are you so excited? You finally found yourself a woman?¡±

    Gregori jabbed his finger in the markets direction, ¡°I saw him, relay to the men that they are to follow the two sun walkers and the human when they pass.¡±

    Berma shot up, bowed and began to run into the brush and down the line. As Gregori sat there, the other did as he was told, relaying the message to the conspiracy. He ran through the underbrush, quick as he could. Despite appearances, the man was a competent runner.

    ¡°Which human?¡± asked one particularly nasally man from their plot.

    Berma, in a hurry replied, ¡°the only one who isn¡¯t with us you imbecile. Now go, get to the duties you were hired for.¡±

    And with that he continued on his path, like Paul Revere heralding of the redcoats march.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Goldwater & Co~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Lais and Kalom walked ahead of me while I hung back and spied the sights around me. It really was a beautiful place, the bright colors and the smiling and happy people going about their day was a sight that brought about a smile of my own. Back in my homeland, people smiled and were usually upbeat but lacked a certain truthful quality about them. Their smiles always seemed so hollow to me. It had only been ten years since the last invasion attempt from the statist reservation, so I always choked it up to shell shock or paranoia among the folks I saw. I had seen a fair share of death in my lifetime, alot of shit regular people wouldn''t stomach. I was pushing forty-five, but been in war since twelve years old. The first smell of smoldering ruins, the burning tanks would radiate heat so intense it would melt anything that got close. That included guns, so you were advised to stand clear of disabled armor. I had seen what war was really like, barely a teenager then, lost alot of buddies when the reservation sent its fighters into the Appalachia. Moral of the story I suppose, is that kids shouldn''t see that stuff. Though we didn''t really have a choice. Give up our freedoms and be slaves to the statists; or fight back, kill them before you got killed. My mind had wandered a little too deep through memory lane, when something suddenly made me start for my gun.

    As we neared the edge of the village on the west side near the forest, it seemed very quiet for some reason. The trees were gently swaying in the now dimming light As evening came ever nearer. Kalom and Lais were still engaged in conversation, giving no heed to myself. It was then as we were out of sight from the rest of the village that something I should have noticed sooner came to my mind, and in an instant I yelled to my friends to warn them. The birds were silent.

    "Ambush!¡± I unholstered my pistol, aimed towards the tree line, and focused the sights right as one of the thugs began to jump from the bushes.

    As the two elves, startled, turned to face me, I was hit from behind by something hard. The pain came a split second later and I could feel the back of my head pulsating, splintering almost. As I fell to the ground my pistol landing beside me, I blurrily saw Kalom and Lais fighting almost a dozen figures in cloaks, as dark as the shadows the trees themselves cast. Kalom took one of the assailants by the collar and hoisted him over his head and onto the ground behind himself just as another shadow rushed up behind and plunged a hunting knife into his right hip. He gritted his teeth, but to the audible and terrified astonishment of the assassin, Kalom took hold of the man''s arm, twisted it and forced him to let loose the grip of the blade. With visible and considerable agony, Kalom pulled the cloaked figure to the front and as he did so, with his knee, rend the man''s arm upwards. The sound of bones breaking was grotesque, and pierced the cloak''s fabric with a gush of blood and red slathered white shards. The man screamed as Kalom then let the man fall to the ground. As he did so, he sprinted towards yet another of them, swinging his fist. He missed as the assailant ducked and spun around to kick Kalom where the knife had struck. He fell to the ground, caught off guard and in pain from his wound, he stayed down and drifted into unconsciousness.

    Lais had done a better job at fighting than Kalom, and was just as brutal. Two more of the assailants lay dead before her, a knife jammed in one of the men''s eyes and another whose brains had been dashed against a tree. Despite this, she had been captured, and bound. A potato sack had been placed over her head. Soon they did the same to Kalom, though they first took some turns hurling obscenities at him, and kicking him. Cowards. Then, in my slowly incapacitated state, they came before me. My head was swimming, but I could still hear their conversation.

    ¡°This the one the boss wants?¡± asked one man.

    ¡°Aye, so don''t you be going causing anymore a¡¯his blood to be spilt¡± Said another, gruffer voice in reply.

    As they bound and blinded me, I could only feel the embrace of sleep as the pain faded and I slowly passed into shadow.

    When I came to, it was dark and the floor I was laying on was damp. It was an earthy and foul smelling place, but I had been in worse. My hood was gone though I was still tied up, and before me was a small room with a wooden door. It was old and rotting, the place had clearly not been taken care of for years, and it fit perfectly with the two dirt and mud covered cloaked men guarding said door. They both wore their hoods, covering their faces, but I saw one had a beard in the ember light from a pipe he smoked.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± I asked, trying my best to sound cordial. I hoped to try and curry good will, maybe they would be receptive and give me some inform-

    ¡°None of your concern for now, just be patient and our boss will be right with you.¡± Said the bearded man.

    I said nothing more, just sat there on the wet floor waiting. I could not tell what time it was, or how long I sat silently, but the guards were getting anxious. The bearded man had put away his pipe long ago, presumably out of tobacco, and had been leaning against the left-side wall by the door.

    ¡°Where is he?¡± The other man spoke up to his companion.

    The bearded man shrugged his shoulders, ¡°Why would I know?¡± he replied.

    ¡°You should go see if he¡¯s coming, otherwise we¡¯ll be guarding this guy for a fortnight.¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯ll be digging latrines for a year if we get caught off our post, idiot.¡±

    The two continued to bicker about who, if either, should go and find their leader. But suddenly the argument stopped as the door swung open violently and smacked the man with no beard in the face.

    ¡°Gahh¡± he yelped in a nasally voice. ¡°My damned nose, ugh.¡± He cupped his face, blood starting to seep through his fingers.

    "gonna need a doctor for that one" I thought to myself.

    A third cloaked figure entered the room, and approached me. The strangers eyes were piercing, and showed both pity and contempt. He removed his hood to reveal a very different face, and I was surprised by what I was.

    An elf, a dark elf to be more exact. At first glance, he appeared to almost look like a woman with how graceful he looked, but soon that was corrected.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked.

    The man leered down upon me, and without saying a word took his left boot and kicked me hard in the stomach. I collapsed onto the floor in pain, I had taken blows to the stomach before but that kick had some power behind it.

    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he said to me in a more masculine voice than I had expected. ¡°You and your friends killed some of my best men so I needed to vent off some steam. Hope you don''t hold it against me.¡±

    I tried to sit up, only to collapse again from the echoes of pain, I looked up at him, gritting my teeth. Now, I was understandably pissed after that, but I also understood his anger. And to be fair, had to respect his choice of outlet. Better me than his own men he probably figured.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Don''t worry, I won''t.¡± I seethed.

    I sat up finally, unclenching my jaw, and continued;

    ¡°Had I been in your position I would have done the same thing, or probably worse if I''m being honest.¡±

    The elf grinned, ¡°is that so?¡± he began. ¡°Perhaps you can give me some pointers?¡±

    ¡°Ha, no way. I may be a fool but I ain''t that stupid.¡±

    His smirk vanished and he went back to his previous stern expression.

    ¡°So you''re Nelson, it''s good that we finally met in person.¡±

    A shiver rose up my spine at the mention of my name. Then I remembered that my friends were taken captive too. Had he already known my name, how would he have known? Or perhaps he was told it by Kalom or Lais, and under what manner of duress?

    ¡°How do yo-¡± I tried to say but he cut me off.

    ¡°Know your name?¡± he finished. ¡°Simple, the taller one told me. If you''re wondering whether or not I hurt him or your woman friend, don''t be so quick to presume. I may be a hard man, but I''m not a barbarian like you humans.¡±

    The guards at the door eyed one another after this comment, the newly sored one still holding his nose, now dripping blood and staining his hand and the breast of his cloak.

    I grinned,¡°Barbarian, huh?¡±

    ¡°Yes, barbarian. I hate humans, your kind always look down on mine, despite our superiority. It''s repulsive. Worse still you ruin everything you touch; kingdoms, craft works, even the arts and culinary aren''t safe from you. What imbecile boils chicken!?¡±

    ¡°Wow, you must have really been holding that in for a while, kid. Last time I heard someone vent like that was my old Commissar in Rhodesia.¡±

    The elf paused, unsure what exactly ¡®Rhodesia¡¯ was, though he got angrier after that.

    ¡°Are you trying to make me mad? Not many prisoners would dare talk back against their warden, Especially not one such as myself who works for the king.¡±

    I was getting tired already of talking to the man, and had decided to just play along for the time, hoping that I would find some way out of the situation. Despite being annoyed at the kidnapping, I was pleased to hear he hadn''t hurt Lais or Kalom, though whether he was actually truthful I could only guess at. He did not strike me as the dishonest type, but I also had no choice but to trust his word.

    ¡°Alright, I''ll keep the snide comments to myself.¡± I replied.

    ¡°Good. My name is Gregori, in case you were wondering who I am.¡±

    ¡°Unusual name, I know of only a few people with it. One I knew who used to be alive, and another who was alive way before my time.¡±

    Gregori smiled for a second, before turning to an expression of mixed emotion, resembling some cross of quiet seething and attempted stoicity. We looked at each other for a while, not speaking. I assumed that last comment for whatever reason struck a nerve, despite it just being an observation. But in reality he was thinking what to ask me, many questions rushed through his head before he spoke.

    Water dripped from the ceiling and onto the floor in a corner of the room, the plucking, the only sound which was heard in the otherwise silent space. It was getting on my nerves. I eyed the corner of the room, near where the guards stood. On a single peg, more like a key rack, my holster was hanging. The gun wasn''t in it, likely got picked up and ... bingo. It was sitting pretty on a chair just below the pegs. I thought myself lucky the idiots had the sense to snatch it up, but then I worried perhaps they decided to try it out. If they used up the ammo I was screwed, but I doubted that thought after a moment. They probably assumed it to be a weapon given my attempted shooting of it, and thus didn''t want to mess with it. It was a solid theory at the time, not like I had anything much else to go off of.

    ¡°Ok,¡± Gregori began. ¡°So I know your name, and that your an otherworlder. But I still do not know why the king wants you, so I have some questions to ask if you don''t mind.¡±

    One of the guards tried to speak up, but Gregori turned swiftly and pointed to the door.

    ¡°Both of you, out for the moment. Let nobody inside without my permission.¡±

    ¡°But boss,¡± the bearded one said, ¡°We aren''t supposed to question the kings orders, what if you get in trou-¡±

    He was cut off by Gregori, raising his voice.

    ¡°I said out. now!¡±

    The men both frantically scurried out the door and into the hallway. They fled up the stairs, shutting the door behind themselves.

    ¡°Now then,¡± Gregori continued, ¡°Let''s begin the interrogation.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing, what do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Why does the king want you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I replied in earnest. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering that myself ever since I was informed of your plot.¡±

    Gregoris'' eyes went wide, and he took a step back, it wasn''t as much as fear, but more like a shock to the man.

    ¡°Somebody told you?¡±

    He stepped forward again, closer and squatted down to look me in the face. His breath was hot and his brutal eyes were fixed on mine, in them I saw something of myself back during the wars. A young man, filled with hate, with pain and with a battlelust. I had no idea at that moment what drove his will more; His anger at his foes such as I, or his love for the job he had. Either way, I regretted my previous insults, not out of fear, but of respect, and an empathetic pain.

    ¡°Who told you we were coming?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know who he is¡±

    ¡°You are a terrible liar,¡± he remarked.

    ¡°I¡¯m not lying, he wore a mask, didn''t catch a name.¡±

    Gregori took a few more moments to search my eyes, before standing up and stepping back again to sneer at me.

    ¡°My mistake then, I don¡¯t detect any mischief in you, but that masked man had to have been informed somehow. This is disturbing to me.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, but I¡¯m just as lost as you are.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s funny,¡± Gregori remarked.

    ¡°What is?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Both the woman and the man said you were polite and kindly, yet here you are in my midst, and you started off very rude. Were you putting on a show for myself or for them?¡±

    ¡°Well, I''m a prisoner at the moment, so understandably I am a little upset

    ¡°Fair point.¡±

    Gregori questioned me for another hour at most, prodding into my past, my present, and trying desperately to figure out why king Eli was after me. After the interrogation, he had learned of my mercenary work and life in my world. Both of my triumphs and my personal sins. He learned about how I had joined the Sealand Contract Forces at fourteen, how I had fought in combat zones across the globe till I was in my thirties.

    ¡°So these ¡®French¡¯ were a race of people you fought in the jungles?¡± He asked in one conversation.

    ¡°Not a race, still normal humans. They come from a place called France.¡±

    ¡°The jungles were not their home I¡¯m guessing?¡±

    ¡°On the contrary, they had lived there as colonists for almost a century but when the Brazilians came they-¡±

    ¡°Brazilians?¡±Gregori inquired.

    ¡°Oh, right, I hadn''t got to that part yet, they were a nation native to the jungles. They thought the French were subhuman and wanted to cleanse the region of them¡±

    ¡°Why was that?¡±

    ¡°Well, at the time, me and my men had no idea that the Brazilians were genocidal, we were just hired to hunt down the terrorists in the jungles, turns out though that the Brazilians were being influenced by the Atomwaffen Nazi¡¯s an-¡±

    Gregori stopped me, ¡°What did you just say?¡± His eyes widened in fear. His expression was nearly a silent panic.

    I was taken aback, he looked shaken and was almost pale despite his dark skin, like he had seen a ghost.

    ¡°What?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That word you used, ¡®nat-see¡¯¡±

    ¡°What about it?¡± I said, but then remembered what Malkolm had told me.

    Objectivism, communism and fascism, as well as others; all existed in some form or another in this world. All brought here by people just like me, and all twisted and shaped to fit into this world''s mold as well. But by the way Gregori sounded, he knew at least about the Nazi''s, which was grave news. I was not looking forward to meeting the many resident ideologues of the world I had found myself in. Never was one for politics, everything to alot of people was black or white, good or bad. I had seen firsthand what ideals do to people, and what happens to them when those fragile misconceptions are shattered.

    ¡°The king¡¯s father, and grandfather, were both of the nat-see religion. They worshiped the god Vrill. Does that sound familiar at all to you?¡± Gregori asked.

    ¡°Oh, so they managed to make an actual religion out of it? That''s kinda sad and funny in equal regard.¡±

    I couldn''t help but laugh at that explanation. I had fought Waffeneers for quite some time, and never once had they tried to call their ridiculous bullshit a religion, so to hear such an absurd development was beyond the pale.

    ¡°What''s so funny?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Nothing, don''t mind me,¡± I said, still laughing. ¡°Let me guess, this Eli guy is a Nazi too, eh?¡±

    Gregori shook his head, ¡°no, King Eli does not follow the religion of his predecessor, I do not know what faith he follows.¡±

    Gregori and I said nothing else for a while, he however eventually did turn to leave and as he did so I made one last jab at him. As he reached the door I yelled out;

    ¡°By the way, your paralysis poison was pretty useless.¡±

    He froze, before violently grabbing the handle. He swung the door open and then slammed it behind himself. As he ascended the stairs he had mixed feelings about the whole sordid affair. In his mind he was stewing, the answers I gave and the information I divulged had plunged him into a spiraling doubt about Eli¡¯s intentions.

    ¡°I don¡¯t get it¡± He said in his mind to himself. ¡°Why would that bastard want a washed up, self pitying mercenary?¡± Perhaps he has some hidden wealth or maybe he is a distant relation, a pretender to the throne possibly?¡±

    As he reached the cellar door¡¯s top step and knocked on it, he gave one last thought to it. ¡°Whatever the reason, Edme comes first. I must keep her safe, even if I have to go to extremes.¡±

    As he knocked, a slit on the top of the door opened up, revealing a pair of brown eyes which peered down at the elf.

    ¡°Aye, I¡¯ll open the door sir.¡± Came a gruff, accented voice.

    It was not unlike that of what you or I would know as ¡®Indian¡¯ but colorfully incorporating or perhaps mocking an Italian way of speaking. I know, very helpful description.

    As the door opened Gregori saw several men working, packing up bags and loading a cart just outside the dilapidated structure. It was night, and the darkness concealed the activities of the gang, who went around the village in secret stealing provisions. The door closed behind him, where an elderly brown skinned human stood. His hair was braided and his face was covered in black striped paint to make him blend in more with the shadows. Many of the men had done the same, hoping to further increase their chances of concealment in the dead of the moonless hours.

    ¡°How long-,¡± Gregori said to the man, ¡°-until the provisions have been gathered?¡±

    The man lifted his hand and stuck out a thumb sideways, this meant about halfway done.

    ¡°It will take another day at current my lord, however if it rains, it may take an additional day to that at most.¡±

    ¡°Good. Keep up the good work. By the way, where is Berma?¡±

    The man shook his head, ¡°No idea. The fat bastard was supposed to be helping us. But if I know him, he''s probably helping himself to the village''s booze somewhere.¡±

    Gregori hissed quietly. ¡°I will find him, keep the men working.¡±

    The man bowed slightly as Gregori infiltrated the village in search of his friend.

    --------------------------------------Eli ¡®The Gladius¡¯--------------------------------------------

    The room was dark, illuminated only by the light of three braziers. Each one was located behind the massive stone chairs in the center of the chamber. The thrones were in a circular position, facing the man before them, dressed in regal garb and a crown of branches upon his head. Upon these cyclopean seats sat three titanic large red cloaked figures, concealing their faces and bodies, all except their porcelain bare boned hands. The robes they wore were the same as Karill¡¯s, bearing a withered tree. The rooms walls were all imposing, stone engravings besmirched the otherwise pure granite with scenes of torment and suffering. Images of elves being drawn and quartered, humans burning in lakes of flame, and dwarves listlessly wandering a realm of mist, sobbing.

    The robed figure on the left spoke, his voice a thunder in the small room. It was like the walls were built to make a speakers words echo and ring to bring discomfort and pain to those who heard it, a torture chamber of sound.

    ¡°You will not surrender your duties for the sake of a single elf, mortal!¡± The giant boomed.

    The human standing before the three, had his head cast down, as to not look upon these dark figures. The man was none other than Eli, king of the Imperium.

    ¡°The dark elf bitch has no part in the plans of the divine council. And we certainly shall not change our plans to help keep one pseudo-immortal cretin alive. Are you hearing me, Eli?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes lord, I hear you.¡± Eli said obediently in response. His fear grew with every passing moment, he dared not test their patience with excuses nor sass.

    ¡°Brother, perhaps allowing the children of the black sun to aid us in our task was a foul on our part?¡± said the third giant to the far right.

    ¡°Hush now, honored brother. For it is not we who must be in error, for we are the plan makers. Surely, the mortals should be grateful for our generosity and do as we say. Thus we must show them the error of their own follies.¡±

    The third nodded, ¡°very true my honored brother. I do not doubt any longer. Truly I tell you these pathetic soul bearers should be joyous at our allowance of their continued existence upon this rock.¡±

    The middle one banged his fist upon the throne''s armrest, nearly breaking the stone and sending small chips flying across the room.

    ¡°Enough banter!¡± his voice was deeper and more violent, it sounded almost like a man speaking through a grated mask. ¡°Eli, you shall do as you have been commanded, as your father hath and his father before he!¡±

    ¡°But my lo-¡±

    ¡°I did not ask you a question, mortal king! You speak only when told to speak!¡±

    Eli did not say the rest of his sentence out of terror. For as long as he had been alive, the deep council had been pulling the real strings behind the Imperium. His father served them faithfully, though his grandfather had his doubts. They were beings of untold power, and though only three in number; not any alliance of armies could hope to dash their plans nor match their might he thought. The wars, the city plans, the genocides, all were faithfully carried out by Eli¡¯s family under the direction of these puppeteers. Many on the outside would assume that Eli was the king, and therefore was the most powerful, but if they knew the truth despair would panic all.

    ¡°You shall carry out the extermination as we requested?¡± asked the one on the left.

    ¡°I shall my lord,¡± Eli began, ¡°But what if any survive?¡±

    ¡°Then you would have failed, and punishment shall be administered.¡± Raged the middle.

    The third one put up one hand placatingly towards the middle one, ¡°steady your wrath my brother.¡± He rose from his throne and stood before Eli, glaring down at him.

    ¡°Eli,¡± he began, "the Daeg, the little folk, must perish. It is more important than one elf, to bring about our goals. We must have the race of the little folk, water the land with their blood. The ritual must be completed. ¡±

    Eli nodded dejectedly. The giant waved his hand and Eli was ushered out of the room by a pair of royal guards wearing armor bearing the same withered tree. As he left the room through a large pair of stone doors, he sighed with relief. He stood there in the hallway''s torchlight, his mind focusing on Edme, trying to think desperately. As Eli did so, he was approached by a man from the darkness, wearing red robes. Eli knew the figure well.

    ¡°How did it go, your majesty?¡± The man said.

    ¡°They once again refused my requests. Both for the suspension of the genocide, and for-,¡± he paused briefly, thinking back to Edme the last he saw her, ¡°-her medicine.¡± he finally groaned.

    The man, now in the light along with Eli, sighed while gently shaking his head in disapproval.

    ¡°My lord, the council are hard men. They do not care for our wishes. But they are just masters, and they promise us the powers of the old gods. Perhaps there is another way to save the lady Edme without the medicines they have?¡±

    Eli shrugged, ¡°I don¡¯t know where to look, Karill. I have traveled the entire Imperium and sent my best scouts even further. But this so-called ¡®cancer¡¯ sickness has no potion, no infusion, no cure that I can conjure up nor find. The council seems to be the only ones with such medicine.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps they will provide the medicine when in a good mood?¡± Karill chimed in.

    Eli nodded, ¡°possibly. But what would put them in such a mood, besides murdering the Daeg?¡±

    ¡°I think it might be the only way, sire. Besides, you have been ordered to do that anyway. Going against the council is suicide, thus I recommend just completing the task, then asking humbly for the medicine again. And while I know that the Daeg are potential taxpayers, lord, I''m sure the council will provide monetary recompense in some other way.¡±

    ¡°Very well Karill, I will try.¡±

    ¡°So, what are your orders, sire?¡±

    Eli looked up to one of the torches in the hall, its flame dancing brilliantly in the darkness, and the shadows contorting across the wall like people running from the fire. He stood there, transfixed on the glow and the flame, and then turned to Karill stoically. The tire and wear of decades evident on his face.

    ¡°Assemble the army, they march for the marshlands.¡± He then turned and began walking away, Karill quickly in tow. ¡°And tell them to leave not one Daeg alive, nor a single tree un-charred.¡±

    ----------------------------------- Goldwater & Co------------------------------------------------

    Lais struggled against her bonds. She had been at it for hours by then, and her wrists were covered in rope burns which had become exceptionally painful. The room was not unlike that of the room I was being kept in, but had no leakages from the roofing, allowing the area to be more dry in comparison. Though the walls perspiration and the stench of wood rot continued to linger. To her left was Kalom in a shadowy corner of the room, sitting and leaning against a wall. His hands bound just as hers and a bloody bandage, completely soaked crimson, around his waist. The blood had started to pool beneath him somewhat, worrying Lais greatly. He had not stirred nor spoken for the entire time, and Lais was concerned, she could not see his face, could not tell if he was merely unconscious, or worse. After a few minutes more of pointless struggle, Lais, frustrated at all that had occurred up till that point had enough and yelled.

    ¡°Damn you bastards! When I get out of here I swear you''ll will all regret this!¡±

    ¡°S-Stop yelling.¡± a voice stammered.

    Weak and cautious, the familiar sound both shocked and comforted Lais, who, upon looking over to her brother, began to tear up.

    ¡°Kalom?¡± she whimpered.

    ¡°don''t worry, I''m not dead yet.¡±

    Lais dragged herself the best she could across the floor and over to Kalom, not paying any mind to the blood now seeping into her dress. She placed her head on his shoulder, and trying to hold back the tears, silently sat there leaning against him. Kalom was struggling to breathe well, with the blood loss and the very real possibility of internal bleeding it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to stay awake. but he couldn''t tell whether he was already sleeping or not.

    He glanced over at his sister, and started to drift into thought. He remembered the first time he had hurt himself, he was eleven then. He had fallen out of a tree and cut open his side on a rock, the pain was not unlike what he was then experiencing. He thought about how Lais, his little sister, had berated him as he lay there crying on the ground for ¡°being a dunce who doesn''t watch his footing¡±. But after a while she cooled down, and taught Kalom how to bandage a wound properly to stop the bleeding. As he drifted back to reality, he eyed the bandage on his side, the sloppy work and the loose fitting which led to the continued bleeding only made him chuckle.

    ¡°H-hey sis,¡± he began.

    Lais looked up at him, tears running down her face silently.

    ¡°These pricks should learn how to make a proper bandage, *ack* l-learn from you.¡±

    Lais nuzzled close to her brother, and began to laugh silently, and so did he. An hour passed, then two, nothing happened. Nobody came for them, and his wound still wouldn''t close. Kalom thought back again, to other times and places, his life flashing in and out as frequently as his consciousness. His first wolf hunt, coming home from the war, mothers funeral, Lais dumping a pitcher of water on a local pervert. It had been a full life, a few hundred years of memories, most good. But he thought that if it was to be his last day, he did not want to leave his sister alone with a corpse to bury. So he held on, and kept doing so. Lais tried her best to hold on to the dwindling hope she had left. Her brother was dying before her eyes, and she could do nothing. Shame, rage, panic all assaulted her thoughts and feelings as she struggled to make sense of it all. She promised that she would get even after it was all over, that is if she survived. She would kill that Cith bastard, Gregori. The blood pool had stained both their clothes thoroughly, and Lais once more began to try and hold back the flood of emotions that lay just below the surface as she looked down and saw the very life essence of her older brother oozing from a crudely bandaged wound.

    After another hour, finally the door to the room opened slowly. The two of them watched and waited, Kalom less so due to his condition. A head popped around the frame. The sight that beheld them was startling and relieving in equal measure; they saw me, face splattered in blood and putting my finger up to my mouth to keep the silence. The escape was on.

 A Reckoning [PRE PROFESSIONAL EDIT]

    As I helped Lais tend to Kaloms wound, she kept darting her gaze between me, the door and her brother. She was unsure what to make of my sudden reappearance. Despite the curiosity though, we said nothing as we cleaned the blood and replaced the bandage work using a few torn cloth pieces from my shirt, and the rope which Lais had been bound with. As I tightened the rope to hopefully stem the bleeding, she finally turned to me in earnest.

    ¡°How did you get away?¡±

    I looked up at her from my task, and with a coy smile, said ; ¡°I¡¯ll tell you another time. Just know that we need to get moving, and soon.¡±

    ¡°The guards will be coming back?¡±

    ¡°Eventually. But I more or less meant your brother. He¡¯s lost a lot of blood, we have to get him back to your house without getting spotted. Do you know any shortcuts?¡±

    Lais was silent, deep in thought. After a few moments, she nodded and got up. picking up Kalom''s right arm and throwing it over her shoulder, she motioned me to do the same, which I did. His weight was almost unmanageable for my frame, but with one foot in front of the other, me and Lais managed to carry him out of the cell and up the stairs. His feet dragged along the way, leaving behind a trail of spotted blood.

    ¡°What does he eat? Iron?¡± My joke didn¡¯t land.

    ¡°Not now, this is serious.¡±

    Sighing, I apologized. ¡°Sorry, I''m just nervous is all.¡±

    ¡°And you think I''m not?¡± Lais said, gritting her teeth.

    As we continued out into the night, out of the building, Lais saw my handiwork. A few men lay face down in the dirt and mud, guards positioned by Gregori to keep us locked up.

    ¡°I hope they died slowly.¡± Her words were scornful, venomous.

    I was taken aback. I had not heard her say anything that violent before, nor had she been so disgusted.

    ¡°They aren''t all dead, Lais.¡±

    She stopped and looked straight at me, with an expression that bordered on fury, but still held firm control. Her green eyes blazed almost with silent rage at my response. I could tell right away what was going through her mind, I wanted to just tell her it wasn¡¯t worth it, but we couldn¡¯t stop yet. We needed to focus on saving Kalom.

    ¡°I have my reasons, just save your judgement till we get Kalom to safety, alright?¡±

    She looked away, and we continued walking until we entered the nearby tree line in which we came onto a narrow foot path. It was overgrown with ferns, many were bent and cracked, someone had clearly been using that path not too long before we did. But I said nothing as we trudged along, trying our best to keep Kalom aloft as we painfully made our way down the winding trail and up unto the hilltop, where their home lay still.

    ¡ª-------------------------------------------GREGORI------------------------------------------------

    Gregori was lurking in the shadows of a nearby Caf¨¦ alley, looking for his companion. He cursed Berma under his breath as he peered into the distance, watching for any movement. The fool had probably gone off and gotten himself into trouble, he thought. Berma was always scrounging for strong drink wherever he could find it, even if he had to stoop to stealing it. As he crouched there in the shadows, he scanned the area for his lost, and probably newly intoxicated friend. As he waited in the dead silence, he finally saw a flash of color moving across the street further away, the familiar color of the mans cloak. It was noticeable even at that distance, and so he silently followed. Creeping ever closer to Berma, Gergori could start to smell the drink he had acquired, hard cider.

    ¡°Great,¡± he bemoaned to himself, ¡°the fool is plastered already¡±.

    As he got up to the edge of a building, he paused. Around the corner was Berma, sitting on a crate and not at all cheerful. He looked somber, downtrodden, unlike his usual self even when drunk.

    ¡°Is that you skulking there, Gregori?¡± Berma spoke up, much to Gregori¡¯s surprise.

    His voice sounded strained, it had an unusual quality about it. Like it was being forced or choked out rather than being a voluntary act on his part. How could he have known that he was there, Berma was never the best with vigilance, and that was when he was sober. Gregori felt that something was wrong, very wrong.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, elfhen? Cease hiding, come, and join your friend for a midnight throng.¡±

    Gregori rushed over, not caring for stealth any longer, he was worried. Berma sounded different, his tone deeper, his words were not his own. And as he closed the distance, he looked into the man''s eyes and saw a pale green glow, barely noticeable. Then, standing before Berma, he saw a smile creep onto the face of his former friend. Gregori realized what was going on, his panic and fright grew with each step towards the creature who now possessed his friend.

    ¡°Release him.¡± Gregori spoke flatly, trying to show no emotion, to not let the lich know he was afraid.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    ¡°Sorry, little one.¡± Came the reply, ¡°the corpse will be yours to take, but while he¡¯s alive-¡± the thing that was once Berma, held aloft a half empty bottle of cider, ¡°-come have a toast with an old rival. Three hundred years of our feuding.¡±

    The creature chuckled as he saw beads of sweat roll from the elf''s brow. Gregori stood still, but inside his rage was building, the heat in his chest burned more, welling up in his throat.

    ¡°I said,¡± he choked out, straining to not break his composure, ¡°let him go. Now.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter cith m¡¯astekta? Sad that your friend shall perish? Don''t be. His time was short anyhow, a few months left at best. All in all, my treatment of him should be considered humane, instead of what I usually do to my mortal playthings.¡±

    ¡°Y-you are a monster. Just leave us alone, go bother someone else.¡±

    ¡°Oh my, such hateful words,¡± the lich said, clumsily forcing Berma¡¯s body to stand. He started to stroll over to Gregori, hand outstretched. ¡°Monsters are mindless creatures, dear elfhen.¡±

    He was close enough then that Gregori could smell the alcohol on Bermas breath. Which made him nearly gag. Bermas newly green eyes pierced Gregoris'' very soul it seemed, as they bore into his own.

    ¡°I am no monster, elfhen, I am a lich.We have brains, emotions, plans and schemes like any other.¡± He pushed Gregori, pinning him against the wall of the building they were behind. ¡°But you, chu¡¯s¡¯t¡¯ach inshi, continue to make my plans difficult. You, and that arrogant king of yours. My master grows impatient, and your souls grow tastier by the moment.¡±

    Gregori finally started to lose control, his emotions began to seep through his facade. Fear, pain, anguish and hate all twisted his mind and much to the delight of the lich.

    ¡°What do you want, Kaaxel?¡± gregori eked out, in nearly a whisper. ¡°What do you want from me?¡±

    The lich threw back Berma¡¯s spine and bellowed a roaring laugh of amusement into the night sky.

    ¡°What do I want?¡± he said returning to face the elf, ¡°I want to teach you a lesson for meddling in the affairs of your betters, and what better way than making you have to kill your own compatriot?¡±

    ¡°No, no you wouldn''t.¡± Gregori gasped in horror, as the lich backed away and unsheathed Berma¡¯s sword. ¡°Please, Kaaxel don''t do this.¡±

    ¡°Come, elf. Slay your comrade and free him from my grasp, if you can that is.¡±

    ¡°What if I just promise to stop getting in the way? What if I-¡± he was cut short by a swipe of Bermas blade slicing into his cheek and leaving a dark, bleeding wound.

    The lich, trying his best to control the inebriated form of Berma, had only grazed his foe, as the sword had now become embedded into the wooden wall behind Gregori. The elf, quickly realizing that it was either him or his friend, made the painful decision to put his own ally out of his misery. He drew a dagger and plunged it into Bermas back.

    The body didn''t flinch, it seemed to have felt no pain at all, as finally he dislodged the sword and went swinging at the elf once more. The lich slashed at his face, but Gregori was fast, nimble even for an elf, and rushed behind to retrieve his dagger. But as he did so, a boot firmly kicked backward and up into his stomach. The lich had carefully planted his sword into the dirt after missing on purpose, knowing his foe would go for the blade he had lost. And as he did so, leaned forward, mule kicking Gregori center mass.

    The wind was knocked out of him, and the pain nearly made him vomit, but he remained standing, staggered but unbroken. Quickly, the lich displaced his sword and swiped around to try and slice the throat of the elf, only to miss as Gregori ducked, grabbed the liches sword arm, and with his opposite fist slammed upward and into the elbow. A sickening crunch was heard as the sword dropped from the lich¡¯s hands and a guttural laugh came from the mouth of the thing.

    ¡°That''s it, very good.¡± he said, backing away, now wounded with a broken arm. ¡°But every moment you hesitate to kill your poor Berma, the more he suffers.¡±

    Gregori realized in an instant what he meant. The lich wanted to toy with him, would he have let Berma keep his consciousness? He was appalled by this revelation, but unperturbed.

    ¡° Fine, corpse lord, then I shall end this quickly.¡± Gregori picked up the sword, and approached the wounded lich.

    ¡°Yes, yes!¡± The creature yelled in amusement. ¡°Learn your lesson well, little elfhen. Let this day never be forgotten, the day you slaughtered your own in cold blood.¡±

    A sickening smile curled on the face of what was once Berma, was the final straw for Gregori, as he plunged the blade deep into the heart of his former friend.

    The pale glow vanished from his eyes, and Berma came back to his senses. He collapsed, and Gregori struggled to keep him from hitting the ground. As he lay there, covered in his own blood, and the light itself fading from his eyes, he looked up at Gregori.

    ¡°You-¡± he struggled to speak, his mouth filling with warm crimson, ¡°you cannot blame yourself for this. Don''t listen to that prick.¡± He smiled, his blood soaked teeth a grizzly sight to Gregori. ¡°I am happy to have known you, knife ear. I have not been the best friend to you, but you have to me.¡±

    Gregori said nothing, his face bland and emotionless, his eyes shrouded in darkness from the moon poking barely through the clouds. A slow gust of wind blew gently across, and a glint of liquid flashed in and out of view upon his otherwise concealed face.

    ¡°I think it''s time. Vrill calls me to the Uberreich,¡± Bermas voice trailed, weaker. ¡°Don''t drink my stash, all ¡­ by ¡­ yours-¡±

    Then, he was gone.

    Gregori sat there, motionless. His companion''s corpse in his lap, a sword sticking out from its now cold, dead heart. And as the moon came into view fully, a few drops of water, mixing with the blood. Each slowly dripping from the face of an elf, who was now truly alone.

    ------------------------------------Goldwater & Co---------------------------------------------

    I and Lais had finally reached the house¡¯s front door about ten minutes later. Kaloms bandage was soaked again, the bleeding had still not subsided, and it was looking rather grim.

    ¡°Don''t worry, Kalom.¡± I said reassuringly. ¡°You''re almost there.¡±

    When Kalom did not respond, I looked up into his eyes, and saw tire. I had seen it many times, countless beyond recollection. A man on the battlefield starts bleeding out, and he becomes drowsy, but he knows if he passes out it is certain death. Kalom was almost certainly aware of this, given his military background. I peered over at Lais, who was now looking directly at me. I could still see hints of anger and frustration in her eyes, both at the scoundrels themselves and at me for not finishing them off. But I wasted no more time, grabbing the door handle, and with all the might I could muster after having dragged a man twice my size up a hill, I swung open the door which made a loud thud against the wall.

    At once I heard Malkolm cry out in panic and fury as he came strolling into the dining room.

    ¡°How many times do I-¡± he paused as he entered, and saw the sight before him.

    He rushed over to the table, and wiped everything off it, every cup and kettle spilling carelessly to the floor.

    ¡°Quick, set him down!¡± He shouted, sprinting down the hall. ¡°And shut the door!¡±

    Lais and I laid Kalom onto the table, and looked over his wounds. I was thankfully incorrect at my previous assumption, as the wound had partially closed, though he was still bleeding. As Malkolm came rushing back into the room carrying an old brown trunk, about the size of a foot stand. Lais went to close the door, But as she began to swing it, a single boot wedged itself in between the threshold. Lais backed away, as the door began to creep back open, revealing a figure cloaked in the dark shade of the moon at his back. Everyone paused, watching the newcomer with bated breath. As we stood there, the dark intruder, motionless and menacing, slowly began to raise one hand. At once, Lais lunged forth in a vain attempt to subdue them. However, she was sidestepped and with a single sickening thud, the figure slammed one of his fists into her back. She fell to the ground, groaning in pain, as the man stepped into the light, revealing his identity.

    A dark elf, with fire in his eyes and tears long since dried.

 The road to serfdom [PRE PROFESSIONAL EDIT]

    Gregori had stood there, analyzing us all, calculating his next moves carefully. However the whole time, his gritted teeth and bloodshot eyes told me he was barely containing some deep seated emotions. None of us moved, not even Lais who was now sitting up and rubbing her back.

    The cool breeze from the open door sent the lights flickering, casting deep shadows upon the walls of the room. It momentarily obscured the face of the elf, showing nothing but the eyes of a predator, awaiting its time to strike.

    ¡°You,¡± he began, ¡°You idiots don¡¯t know what I had to go through to get you locked up back there.¡±

    He balled his hands into fists, and slammed one against the wall adjacent to the door, knocking a picture frame off of a shelf above. Malkolm bit his lip, drawing blood.

    ¡°You specifically, human. I thought you would be smart enough to just cooperate, but no you just had to break out, hurt my men and then have the gall to run away on foot. Leaving a trail mind you, all the way back here. You obviously aren¡¯t as intelligent as I assumed, given that.¡±

    ¡°Look, I-¡± I tried to calm him down to no avail.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± He screamed, ¡°I don''t care about you or these pathetic sun loving snobs, but I will bring you back to that fool king even if I have to carry you back dead!¡±

    He was furious, and yet the tears flowing from his eyes told a deeper story. I saw pain in those eyes, much as I had recognized the glassy stare of Kalom as we brought him inside. His breathing was intense, almost hyperventilating with pure anger.

    ¡°Malkolm,¡± I said, not looking at him.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll deal with this, you help Lais and Kalom.¡±

    He said nothing, but began to open the chest he carried with him, it was filled with medical supplies. Lais, as she heard this, tried her best to make herself small, given her proximity to Gregori. She probably didn¡¯t want to give him a reason to hit her again, and so hoped he would forget her presence. That sight reminded me of that one time back in Rhodesia¡­

    ¡°Stop where you are.¡± Gregori said, now unsheathing a sword.

    ¡°Don''t worry about the old man, I and you have business. Leave him out of this.¡± I replied, hand on holster.

    Gregori fixed his gaze on Malkolm, who was starting to rub alcohol on his son''s wound. Kalom grunted in pain as the wet cotton ball dabbed on the open places in the cut. The dark elf sighed, and with a pained expression looked back to me, and nodded over his shoulder to the door.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. ¡°Let''s take this somewhere more open.¡±

    He turned to walk away, and sneered in disgust at Lais, if only to say the unworded ¡®yes, I know you were still there¡¯ as he walked into the open. I followed, She staggered to feet and called after me.

    ¡°What are you doing, Nelson?¡± Her voice filled with concern.

    I looked back to her, smiled and thought of something to say that would help her understand, if even just a little bit.

    ¡°Remember when I told you I used to be a mercenary?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes?¡± she replied, somewhat confused by what I was getting at.

    ¡°Well, I meant what I said. I used to be a mercenary. They kicked me out after many years of service. Didn¡¯t like what I was becoming.¡±

    ¡°And, what does this have to do with anything?!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± And I turned, walked away and stood a good distance from Gregori.

    The dark elf was no longer shedding tears, and his demeanor was calmer, anticipating the start of the fight. I got a good look at his clothes, they were soaked in blood. And by the look of it, not all of it was his own. And the sword wasn¡¯t his, it was too big for him. As we locked eyes in the pale moonlight, it was a standoff between two forces of brutal strength. At that moment I remembered the words of that bastard, Parker.

    ¡°You used to be human ¡­¡±

    It was a simple yet profound statement, and a factual one at that. I abandoned everything at one time to pursue a career that others deemed vile, but that was long ago. And though I had yet to atone for the many things I had done over those years; I knew that just one more time I had to put my skills and experiences to use. Before me stood a man who meant to take me, alive or dead, and by the look in his eyes he had settled for the latter long ago. How many people had I killed with my gun over the years? Dozens, surely. Likely nearing the one hundred mark at the end of my stint in the Arizona Savagelands, back in ¡®75. But at that moment I had felt like I was back in basic in my merc days. A greenhorn staring down the barrel of a gun, blissfully unaware that could be his last moments on earth. Lais would then get to see firsthand how a mercenary fights, how I fight. In war, there is no honor. No such thing as a fair fight, survival is paramount to all else. Throw sand, kick em in the groin, shoot them if they flee; normal shit for people in my line of work. People often would view these as disgusting tactics, but each has a purpose if you look deeper. Blind them so they cannot retaliate, panic them with pain to disarm them, kill them as they run so they can''t regroup later.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have to do this.¡± I said, breaking the silence.

    The wind blew through the mountainous trees, blowing Gregori¡¯s hair from his face, and floating his cloak away from his sides revealing a small belt and dagger, just barely visible in the cloudless moonlight. The grass swished beneath your feet, as if a crowd of spectators cheering from the front row.

    ¡°I think we do.¡±

    ¡°At least tell me before we fight, what is so important to you that you would risk dying to capture me.¡±

    ¡°None of your business, otherworlder. But I¡¯ll propose to you a deal anyway, out of pure amusement. Beat me, and before you cut me down I¡¯ll answer any question you could possibly have.¡±

    I nodded, ¡°Deal. But what about a weapon, you have a sword and all I have is my gun. Not a very fair fight.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what a gun is, but make due with what you have, fool.¡±

    And with that the duel had begun. He was fast, much faster than I had anticipated. Within mere seconds he had charged, and managed to just graze my left arm with his blade. As I dodged his next flurry of blows, I could feel my footwork become uneasy. Every thrust, every swipe, each attempt to connect was met with me losing more and more ground. Already it had seemed like a losing battle, however finally an opening had presented itself. Upon whiffing another jab at my stomach, I planted my right fist firmly between his upper ribs, causing him to stagger. And thus began my counter attack; as he tried to catch his breath I hammered blow after blow into his chest, in hopes to weaken his resolve. But to my chagrin, he fought back, dropping his own blade  so he could land a solid punch to my temple. It connected. And now I was back on the defense, this time disoriented. The wind picked up, deafening as we continued to land blow after blow upon one another, his fists were soaked crimson as his last punch sent forth a spurt of blood from my mouth. In return, I threw a right hook into his shoulder, causing him to back away and towards his sword. He took back up his blade and attempted to slash at my legs, and though he got in a few good nicks his plan was thwarted by my fast acting; as I side stepped and swiped at his feet. We both tumbled to the ground, Gregori dropped his blade again and began to crawl over to me, I unholstered my pistol and fired once at him. A miss.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I shouted, as he pinned me to the ground, and proceeded to wrestle the gun away from me. I headbutted him twice, but to no effect. He was beyond pissed at that point, the anger seemingly overpowering his pain.

    Soon me and him were punching, kneeing and clawing at each other as we tumbled to-and-fro on the grass, wetting the once green blades with deep red. As I landed a hit into his ribs again, he unsheathed his dagger, and proceeded to plunge it towards my heart. But in a desperate rush of adrenaline, I clasped my hands around his, and tried my damnedest to push him back. It felt like an eternity, the anger in his eyes, the rage, it burned brighter than before. And as we lay there, fighting for our lives, the others were watching the whole spectacle, Kalom included. They said nothing, did not intervene. I later understood why, and was happy they did not put themselves into harm''s way. In that position, I could swear I saw the frightened and panicked eyes of a man I had once seen a million times in the same position. And I in a flash of recall, turned to see if the Zambezi base was still on fire. All I found was a doorway of a house with three terrified elves.

    As the seconds drew into minutes, I was nearly depleted of energy. His dagger had begun cutting into my flesh, drawing a flow of blood. But as one last resort, I decided to play dirty. I kneed him in the groin, I wasn''t proud of it as a man myself, but when it¡¯s life or death, you do what you have to. As he reeled from it, I took my chance and threw his body off mine and flung the dagger to the ground. We both lay there beside each other, he cupping his pride while I caught my breath. As soon as I regained enough of my strength, staggering to my feet I planted my right foot firmly onto the blade of the dagger. And with that, picked up my gun, and aimed it at him as he recovered.

    When he finally noticed, all the color ran from his face. He had been bested, and his life was then in the hands of myself.

    ¡°I suppose you want your answers then,¡± he croaked out while panting. ¡°So go ahead, ask away.¡±

    ¡°Why does your king Eli want me?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± I started to squeeze the trigger.

    He said nothing in response, instead just sat there and blankly looked up at me. His eyes were underlined with deep black bags, and the dead stare told me everything I needed to know about what was going through his mind. He knew it was the end, the quest he was on, the least of his worries. Something deeper bothered him, even more than meeting death. So I relented and released the pressure I held on the trigger. Something about his gaze struck me with a tinge of empathy, it took me only a few seconds to register what it reminded me of. I recalled images from my past. A cigarette in one hand, a bottle of coffee brandy in the other; and an aging, lonely man standing in front of his bathroom mirror. The shame and humiliation at one''s own failures radiating off of him like an aura. Amplified by the empty eyes of a tin soldier, who had seen and done shit that would make a normal person reel in horror. The vision of a retired mercenary, with no enemies to kill, and no wars to win. A man whose family was long dead, and his bride-to-be had never arrived at her own wedding, ending up in a casket instead. A fool whose ghosts haunted every dream, every nightmare. That is who the elf reminded me of at that moment. So I knew I couldn''t do it. I understood that I may not get answers from him, I knew he may try to run and I wouldn''t be able to get him back. But after seeing that longing look of regret, I decided to try something else. I decided at that moment that the man I had been for years was long gone. Though the wounds would never heal, and the evils I committed would never be forgiven, I could at least spare one victim of fate. Just that once.

    I replaced my pistol in its holster. Gregori didn¡¯t shift his expression, though he tilted his head ever so slightly. As I walked over to him, he stiffened up. Sitting straight, awaiting some killing blow from up close, a hidden blade perhaps to end his life. The elf closed his eyes, not wanting to know when the strike came, but after a moment he realized he was still alive. No blow had landed, no burning slice of his flesh, nothing. He still felt the newly softened wind, he heard the trees rustling. He opened his eyes, and the pain he once held turned to confusion. There, instead of a shiv, instead of a fist or even a gun, was a hand extended. As he looked up at me and back at my hand, he was unsure what my angle was.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Getting you off the ground.¡±

    ¡°But, I thought you were going to kill me if I didn''t answer your question.¡±

    ¡°I was. But I decided to take a different path.¡±

    He reluctantly took hold of my hand, still cautious in case it was some cruel trick. As I helped him to his feet, the others looked dumbfounded. Lais, as I saw when looking over, was staring back and forth between myself and Gregori. Her silent rage built up with every moment that passed.

    ¡°So you wont kill me?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Even after all I did to you and your friends, after I tried to kill you just now and even though I couldn''t tell you what you wanted?¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± I replied, a smile creeping onto my face.

    ¡°But why? I would never have done the same for you. If this is some sick sympathy, I don¡¯t want it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly why you''re doing what Eli tells you, or for what reason; but I can tell it''s not for your own sake, am I right?¡±

    Gregoris'' eyes widened, ¡°what do you mean?¡±

    ¡°I''m saying that I want to know why you''re here, the real reason.¡±

    He paused. Unsure how to respond, he just hung his head and hid his face from view. He said nothing for a long while, but slowly he built up the courage to voice a reply.

    ¡°He has my sister.¡± He croaked. ¡°She''s a prisoner.¡±

    The last piece of the puzzle had snapped into place, it made sense now. He still looked down at the ground, either unwilling to look me in the eye, or for me to see the fresh tears of sorrow and pain running down his face. In that moment I felt a tinge of my own emotions boiling up. Pain on behalf of a man forced into the circumstances, anger at a king who would dare hold a woman hostage, and a befuddlement at what would happen next.

    ¡°I see. And this was all to get her back?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said bluntly.

    ¡°Then let''s get her back then.¡±

    He tore his gaze from the ground, his eyes were wet. he stood there, looking at me, my hand still extended.

    ¡°W-what did you just say?¡± He asked, His eyes wide.

    ¡°You heard me, kid. Let''s go kill that prick and save your sister.¡±

    He didn''t move, and his eyes widened even more than the initial shock.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    I grinned. ¡°Because where I come from, we have a particular saying; ''Sic Semper Tyrannis''. And I will be damned if I just let this whole fiasco go unanswered. Guy wants to play king, I think it''s high time someone taught him the definition of regicide.¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    He stood there with a blank stare, unsure how to respond. So I helped him along. I took hold of his arm and forced him to make the motions.

    ¡°Just shake my hand.¡±

    I released him. And his arm swung back to his side.

    ¡°Now it¡¯s a contract, as the lads back home would say. I¡¯ll let bygones be bygones in my own case. But-¡±

    I looked over to where the others still stood, completely dumbfounded as to what they just witnessed. And to Lais who, instead of looking angry, was at a loss for words.

    ¡°-The others won''t be as forgiving.¡±

    Gregori looked over to them, and then back to me. He did this a few times, before simply nodding and swallowing some blood that had accumulated in his mouth.

    ¡°So what happens now?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Now? Now I get some sleep. Pretty sure you gave me a concussion and I need to rest. Also you should get your guys together.¡±

    ¡°Huh, Why?¡±

    ¡°To get your sister back from Eli, you''re gonna need allies. I have a plan.¡±

    I had just turned to walk over to the house, but he stopped me, grabbing hold of my arm. His grip was still surprisingly strong despite the exhaustion from the fight.

    ¡°I haven''t even agreed to any plan, nor did I agree to you helping me, idiot. Besides, what master plan could you have come up with in five minutes?¡±

    I turned back, smiling at him, my bloody teeth showing. The house''s light glowed behind me, bathing me in the warm glow of flickering candles and oil lamps.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna build an army, and pay his majesty a royal ass-kicking.¡±

    ----------------------------------------------------Nigel-----------------------------------------------------

    The marsh water was still, Its oozy smell and dark mud colored hue illuminated barely by the rays of the sunset behind the thicket. The mix of barren and lively trees cast beams onto the unmoving lily pads and muck which coated the area. Nigel sat there in a wooden reed chair, relaxing. One hand occupied with a fishing rod, line carelessly cast into the water. And the other an oaken flask with a shaved rock for a cork dangle loosely. He liked fishing, one of his only hobbies when his ¡®laber-voochers¡¯ were all gathered and his shift was at its end. Sitting back near the pond and waiting to catch his dinner for the next few days was an almost daily occurrence by his late teens; but even though those days were long behind him and he himself was an old man, he found it to be a great way to unwind and to get ¡®good eats¡¯ at the same time. His tattered dark yellow trench coat was not particularly useful to keep rain off him, but worked well enough to keep the mosquitos at bay on most days. His old leather field hat was equally as worn, though not as holey or as beaten up as the aforementioned coat. The hat lay across his face, as the poor man napped, woefully unaware of the man creeping up behind him. The newcomer got up to Nigel and shook him violently.

    ¡°Wake up¡¯n! The world¡¯s rumblin¡¯ ol¡¯ Nig¡¯!¡± He screamed.

    Nigel dropped his flask and woke up in a fearful panic. His rod hit the ground second and Nigel followed suit clinging to dirt clods as the stranger began to guffaw at the sight.

    ¡°Save me O¡¯Mark, don¡¯ let¡¯em keel meh!¡± The old man begged to his god in fright.

    After a few moments, Nigel''s heartbeat returned to normal and he looked up at his agitator. Immediately his face became red with rage, and embarrassment at being poked fun of by a boy a quarter his age.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be laughin¡¯ in the afterlife when I''s done throttlin¡¯yah, Barry!¡± He yelled as he scrambled to his feet.

    Nigel lunged at Barry but stumbled, falling face first into the damp grass and muck. Barry continued his raucous laughter at the sight, as Nigel got back up and took hold of the young man by the collar of his dirty flannel shirt. Immediately Barry stopped making noise. All noise. As he stared directly into the eyes of the old man, now brimming with fury.

    ¡°Now then, yous betteh start¡¯alkin¡¯ and gimme a good¡¯n as to why¡¯yuh spooked me so rude-like.¡± Nigel said, his voice cold and demanding.

    ¡°Well,¡± Barry started, ¡°I didn¡¯ wan¡¯tah wake ya, but the preach¡¯a man sent for yah¡±

    Nigel lessened his death grip on Barry''s shirt, but still held onto him. The preacher man wanted him, For what reason? he thought. He had done his day''s work, and was sure he filed the vouchers properly at the end. Was he in some kind of trouble?

    The Daegish town of Warmanchester was a relatively small settlement, and while it didn''t warrant as much attention from the church of Mark in the big-towns to the west, it still was given its own church and preacher man. The Markies had always rubbed Nigel the wrong way somehow, but he could never figure out why it was. He, like every proper Daeg, had been brought up with the doctrines of Mark in mind. ¡®Money is a sin¡¯ the preacher and teachers would say, ¡®everyone has the right to food and a roof¡¯. Nigel thought on that often, the ¡®money is a sin¡¯ bit; weren''t labor vouchers just another kind of money?¡± And as for roofs, what about the boys who live in the caves and in tunnels underground instead of homes, ¡®cause they couldn''t scrap together enough vouchers to get a bunk bed in the commonhouse? Nigel stopped drifting into his thoughts, snapping back to the task at hand; whether he was going to teach Barry a lesson, or let him off with only a slight beating.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be off¡¯n a momen¡¯to see ¡®im.¡± he said. ¡°But firs-¡±

    As he spoke, Barry kicked him in the shin, forcing old Nigel to release his hold on the young man. And as the elderly Nigel recoiled, grabbing at his leg, Barry ran off as fast as his own little legs could carry him. Due to being smaller than humans, the Daeg were fast runners, and Barry made off like his life was at stake; which it probably was given how furious Nigel would be once he recovered.

    After a few agonizing minutes, Nigel wiped the wet from his eyes as his anger subsided. He hated Barry, and as bad as his brother Leonard was, Barry was worse by a slim margin. Two of the most troublesome folk in the heartland they had turned out to be, however, Nigel was no stranger to mischief in his youth. He grumbled, limping over and collecting up his belongings, readying to head out and back to town.

    ¡°Them young¡¯ns better be-a hopin¡¯ ol¡¯Mark ain¡¯t peerin¡¯ down at em.¡± He muttered under his breath as he stored his flask into a patchwork pocket hidden in his jacket. ¡°Ain¡¯he¡¯ll be mighty mad at em too I¡¯spose.¡±

    He picked up his fishing rod, holding it like a walking stick. And with a few more moments of staring off into the distant marshlands, basking in its serenity; he began his trek back to Warmanchester. The journey was never long, only an hour at most on rare occasions. And he quite enjoyed the walk, getting to see all the beauty of the marshlands he called home.

    Work might have been hard, and the land unforgiving, but it was all he had known since the day he was born. his father would often tell him, in-between cobbling shoes, of the times when his father before him had lived in the fertile plains of Gorgena to the east. He still remembered those tales all the years later.

    ¡°Bac¡¯en I was a wee-lad, mah ol¡¯man used to say ¡®e and the boys¡¯ad a trottin¡¯ path bac¡¯ome un dem Gor-gorga-gorgena lan¡¯s. Ol¡¯ pa¡¯ was a daf¡¯ drunk fo¡¯sure but ¡®e¡¯ad a good mem¡¯ry.¡±

    As he reminisced about his younger days, Nigel had lost track of time and almost didn¡¯t realize he had set foot into the town¡¯s borders already. Warmanchester had a gate to protect itself from swamp critters, most of which were twice the size of the average Daeg. And while it was never hard to get inside if you were a local, it was still required for those living there to present a church sanctioned entry pass anyhow.

    As he approached the gate, two barefoot Daegish warriors were stationed at either side. They looked less like soldiers and more like scavengers wearing mismatched armors and pelts. The one on the left was even, to Nigel''s amazement, wearing a chainmail tunic that nearly touched the ground and was covered in mud and soot. His people were no stranger to ¡®nicking stuff from unlucky travelers, or even patrolling human knights and levies; but rarely did you ever see them wearing any armor not made in their size. Nigel thought it equally humorous that both were carrying human spears, which were long and unwieldy.

    ¡°Stop!¡± Said the right hand guard, raising a hand.

    Nigel did as he was told, but began rummaging in his pocket for the church pass.

    ¡°Oi, I says stop. Not tol¡¯yus tuh rifl¡¯ye pockies.¡±

    Nigel ignored him and finally produced his paperwork, presenting it to the guard.

    ¡°Oh woul¡¯ya be quiet.¡± He snapped as the guard snatched the paper from his hand. ¡° Ya lot take¡¯n this¡¯ol guardin¡¯ ting too real.¡±

    ¡°Too real?¡± The other guard spoke up. ¡°What would you be meaning by that, Nigel?¡±

    Nigel recognized the opposing guard as Fredrick, the half-breed. Nigel didn''t ever trust Freddie, he spoke like a human, and always acted like one too. He was a sorry excuse for a Daeg. Being four and a half feet and manner wise leaning more and more towards his ill-conceived lineage, as he got up in years. Most people felt bad for Fredrick given his mother dying in childbirth. And worse still, him being a product of atrocity from a human raid many years ago. His poor ma¡¯ couldn''t bear to take her frustrations out on the boy. for she was a kind soul. Nigel had known Delldan, Fredricks mother, for many years. So whenever Freddie got uppity, he did his very best to not lay a hand on the runt, despite wanting desperately to wring the literal bastard''s neck.

    ¡° ¡®Cause I¡¯s says it so, Freddie. now qui¡¯cha yappin¡¯ an¡¯ watch fo¡¯ lurkies.¡±

    Fredrick scoffed at the rebuke, but did as he was told nonetheless. The other guard softly chuckled as he handed back the pass to Nigel.

    ¡°Don¡¯ind him Nigie.¡± he said with a grin, ¡°Theys jus¡¯tah halfie¡¯. Same ol¡¯ scuffin¡¯ they¡¯n got ¡®round the edges as all.¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯at the truth¡± Nigel replied in kind.

    He shot a mischievous glance at Fredrick before nodding to the guard and walking through the open gate. The gate was normally open around that time of day, since the townsfolk were all coming home from their jobs and recreation. He would¡¯ve preferred that they kept it open all the time, but the church had the rules as they were for good reason. As he entered the town, he smiled as he looked upon the splendor of his fellow townsfolk. To the untrained eye, the muddy ground and the hastily built wooden, and sometimes scrap metal shacks were little more than a squatters camp. But to himself, this was a comfortable oasis in a sea of many miles of uninhabitable swampland. A few children pushed past him as he gazed up at the church in the center of town, its willow steeple a deep brown, more than even the wet wooden hoop the children were rolling down the street. He chuckled a little as he saw one of the kids push over an old man with a cane on accident. His overalls and unruly long beard were caked with mud, but like most of the elders of the town he was a good sport about it; letting out a line of obscenities in between guffaws. Truly, it was seeming to be another wonderful day in paradise for Nigel, but that would really depend on what the preacher wanted with him.

    As he slowly strode up to the battered wooden doors to the church, he could hear the congregation within wailing with euphoria as the preacher told of the day''s teachings. Normally, the day sermons were less exciting and took a more somber tone, however, the nightly masses would be raucous and filled with vitriolic passion. So Nigel wasn''t surprised to be hearing the commotion in the slightest as he reached for the handle.

    Upon opening the door but a crack, the shouting became a deafening roar, echoing with the chants of the church''s favorite insult for anything un-markish ¡°dats kap-e-tall¡¯n¡±. He almost had to cover his ears at the jarring brutality of the full house¡¯s din. Hurriedly, he closed the door behind himself, and sat in the nearest empty pew, hoping to not be noticed, laying the fishing rod beside him. The preacher was just switching topics from the ¡®lies of the pointy ears¡¯ to the human economy. The man, taller than most Daeg, wore a well worn red cloak, patched with purple fabrics in places where the thing had been damaged over almost a century of constant use. And upon his head sat a bright red woolen tall cap, bearing the symbol of the star of Mark. This hat bore no obvious signs of wear, as it was only ever worn when in service of the church itself; making it a well kept relic especially by Daegish standards. Nigel always thought that hat looked itchy, and was glad to not be the one wearing it.

    ¡°An¡¯ the lord Mark says unto ¡®is engels, ¡°be¡¯old, I has bor¡¯fortwit¡¯ a book¡®a rules fer dey toos foller. An¡¯ I¡¯s call¡¯n it dey man-i-festo¡± The preacher pronounced, His voice was filled with righteous zeal.

    He went on about the humans so-called ¡°kap-e-tall¡± and how it preyed on the Daeg and corrupted their purity as Mark¡¯s chosen people. How the Daeg would one day rise up and bring about the promised ¡®end of history¡¯, bringing it full circle into paradise. Nigel heard this many times before, but he had reservations about it. It is said that a great leader of the workers would usher the people to freedom, to rise up against the humans who drove them into exile so many years ago. But it had never happened in his lifetime. His father talked about it and his father before that. And likely his own children, if he ever got around to it, would be singing to the same tune. Before long, Nigel had begun to doze off, barely hearing the preacher anymore. But soon he was awoken with a start as a hand lay on his shoulder.

    He jolted, and wildly darted back and forth, stopping on the preacher before him in a now empty church.

    ¡°Thank¡¯e for comin¡¯¡± his cold tone made it clear that Nigel was definitely not on the preacher''s good side that day. ¡°You¡¯an¡¯I gots lot to speak¡¯n.¡±

    Nigel stayed still, muscles tensed, unsure what to do next.

    ¡°For wha¡¯can I do ya for?¡±

    The preacher nodded in the direction of the lectern near the back of the church. Understanding, Nigel got up and followed him as he led.

    The altar before them was a rectangular table, just above waist height. Covered in holy seals of wax, and paper mache stars made by local children no doubt. There, front and center was an old wooden bust of Mark, expertly whittled and carved from oak. The preacher and Nigel silently looked at it for some time without saying anything, the tension creeping ever so slowly.

    ¡°You¡¯re not¡¯n trouble,¡± he said, finally. Much to Nigel''s shock and befuddlement.

    ¡°I¡¯s not?¡± Nigel replied, puzzled.

    The preacher took off his tall hat to reveal a bald head underneath. As he placed the hat back on the bust of Mark as he did at the end of every service, he sighed.

    ¡°I¡¯s getten ol¡¯. ¡®Near¡¯y one¡¯undred an¡¯ a quarter.¡±

    ¡°Yep.¡± Nigel solemnly agreed.

    He knew then what this talk was about, and he was not at all pleased. It certainly wasn''t the first attempt by the church to entice him into the role of preacher-man, but Nigel had always turned it down citing his own age.

    ¡°Maxwell,¡± Nigel started but was cut off.

    ¡°Don¡¯say it. I¡¯s reckon already why¡¯n you won¡¯accept the role¡¯a preacha.¡±

    ¡°Whaddya reckon?¡±

    ¡°You ain¡¯exac¡¯ly like they oth¡¯r Daeg. Yous don¡¯ fully believe¡¯n Mark.¡±

    Nigel took a step away from Maxwell. Consumed by sudden fear at his words. How did he know, and for how long had he known that Nigel was not exactly loyal to the doctrines of the church?

    Maxwell chuckled, ¡°Don¡¯cha get all ¡®citable ya hear, I¡¯s ain¡¯ gonna tell nobody. I¡¯s a preacha man, not a comme¡¯saar.¡±

    This did not make Nigel any less frightened, but it did stop him from backing away. He wanted to run, oh how he wanted to run. But what good would it do? He would be caught most likely, and then what? The commissars and the church were not known exactly for their kindness towards heretics. The possibilities of both self imposed exile and the punishments for being arrested swamped his mind all at once. Maxwell walked up to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

    ¡°Yous a good¡¯n Nigel, always¡¯as been an¡¯ will be. You got tha¡¯der fire in yous eyes, like ya grandpa¡¯. An¡¯ that is why I¡¯s comin¡¯ to you.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯cha need me fo¡¯?¡± Nigel''s voice was trembling.

    ¡°Yous gon¡¯be da one.¡±

    ¡°Da ¡­ one?¡± What the hell was this man talking about now, Nigel thought.

    Maxwell nodded, ¡°Da chos¡¯n one¡±

    Nigel brushed him off, backing away a few more steps. ¡°Balderdash, ain¡¯nothin more¡± He said.

    Maxwell stepped forward, closing the distance once again, and jabbing his finger into Nigels chest. Nigel himself just stood there trying to remain calm and not show his sheer terror under the circumstances. Why him of all people ¡­ Why did he have to get singled out like this?

    ¡°Yous the chos¡¯n, ¡®cause the church says yous the chos¡¯n one.¡±

    ¡°But how? I aint no revolush¡¯nary, I ain¡¯ no warrior. I jus¡¯ wanna fish an¡¯ sleep in peace.¡±

    Maxwell smiled and stopped poking him. ¡°Them¡¯s the reas¡¯ns why.¡±

    Nigel couldn''t believe what he was hearing. Fishing?! Fishing and sleeping were the reasons he was the chosen one?! He had just about had enough of the mad preacher, he¡¯d clearly fallen off the deep end and was out of his mind.

    ¡°What ¡®bout fishin¡¯ an¡¯ nappin¡¯ makes me one¡¯a¡¯them chos¡¯ns?¡±

    Maxwell¡¯s smile faded, taking on a more diminished look. As the two locked eyes, it was then Nigel could see the pain in the preachers. For a second, he regretted thinking ill of the man before him. He may have been insane, but he was still a man, and it was unkind even in his own mind to be cruel.

    ¡°No, Nigel. Yous the chos¡¯n ¡®cause you think outside¡¯a boxes. Most Daeg in¡¯ere town aint as learn-ed as you is. Theys dimmer than¡¯a box¡¯o¡¯rocks. But you, yous think fo¡¯ yous self. Yous ain¡¯t in da church for prayin¡¯ nor listenin¡¯ to ol¡¯ Marks tales ¡®cause you like it. Ain¡¯t that right, Nigel?¡±

    Nigel said nothing, but his head had drifted down, he couldn''t look into the preacher''s eyes anymore. He couldn''t bear it. Every word Maxwell said cut like a knife through Nigels facade and his heart. Every word was another truth, every sentence a hammer hitting home.

    Maxwell continued, ¡°Yous come¡¯n to church ¡®cause its yous duty, ¡®cause you love the people ¡®ere in the town. I¡¯s seen how you act tough aroun¡¯others, I¡¯s seen how yous act¡¯n when you think theys ain''t lookin¡¯, how¡¯n you smile. So don''t cha think yous gonn¡¯ pull no wool over mah eyes!

    Maxwell''s voice was raising, but he kept it calm enough that its measured increase was just enough to get his point across.

    ¡°Nigel, Yous the chos¡¯n one cause you was what th¡¯ church be needin¡¯. A Daeg what loves fishin¡¯, a Daeg what loves nappin¡¯. You wan¡¯ peace, not pow¡¯r or voochers. Deys what gon¡¯an made you a good ol¡¯man an¡¯ not a nasty poly-tician.¡±

    Maxwell lowered his voice and got a little closer to Nigel, his words were gentler but still held a firm tone.

    ¡°Nigel, ol¡¯boy. It¡¯s been not two gen¡¯rations when them ol¡¯tall¡¯ns drove us outta our¡¯omes, an¡¯ into this ¡®ere Mark forsaken swamp. It¡¯s time to go¡¯ome.¡±

    ¡°But, why''n me? Why¡¯n me an¡¯ not some youngin with a heart¡¯o¡¯gold or a few-¡± Nigel was cut off again by Maxwell.

    ¡°Yous deaf? Jus¡¯said why. Yous the only one whos reckonin¡¯sometin aint quite on the level ¡®round ¡®ere. Yous the only smart¡¯n compared to the dullards ¡®ere in the town. Listen Nigel, I ain''t gonna force¡¯ya into this role. But we¡¯s dyin¡¯ out ¡®ere. We gots no foodstuffs, no farmin¡¯, we live in crumblin¡¯ shacks for Marks¡¯ake. When¡¯ye gets little¡¯uns of your own, what¡¯ll you tell em?¡±

    ¡°Whatcha mean?¡± Nigel asked.

    ¡°I means, what¡¯ll you tell em ¡®bout right now? Will yous look em in the eye an¡¯ say to em that theys never gonna get ¡®ome anywhere but¡¯a swamp? That theys gotta always be fear''n tall''ns, Cirds and Ciths? We¡¯s Daegs, not cow¡¯rds.¡±

    Nigel nodded solemnly. ¡°I¡¯s understand yous wishes, Max. But-,¡± he paused, unsure what to say next. ¡°-What if I¡¯s not the chos¡¯n, an¡¯ I fail?¡±

    Maxwell closed his eyes, ¡°We¡¯s all get our destiny''s event¡¯ly Nigel, not a matt¡¯r of if¡¯n but of when¡¯n. If¡¯n this is yous destiny, you¡¯ll do good. An¡¯ listen to me, yous got a choice. A choice that¡¯ll do eith¡¯r good or bad for all Daeg every¡¯ere. Yous eith¡¯r live long ¡®nuff to be free, or die a slave tuh fate.¡±

    Nigel carefully digested the words the old man spoke, his previous reluctance remaining but now tempered by the preacher''s rationale. Maxwell was right about a lot of things, and while Nigel still held on to his disagreements with the church''s ideas, he knew that this meant alot to his people. The Daeg were exiles, forced from fertile fields and into festering swamps. Each generation that passed would only grow with more and more hatred and dogmatic zeal. But he couldn''t bear to think about what a revolution would do to his people, to himself. His grandfather was involved in the Elfhen wars long ago, and though Nigel had never met the old man before he passed, his own father would describe tales that he was told. Mud, ashes, trenches filled with the smell of black powder and charred wood, bodies of fallen comrades left to rot.

    Was this the world he was being asked to lead his own kin into? And would they even follow him, or would he fail and just fade into the background; a heretic forced into a worse exile, a man who claimed to be ¡®the one¡¯. This was the burden he was being asked to bear by Maxwell, but was it out of genuine feelings of Nigel being the one to lead them to freedom, or out of desperation? one born out of an old man wanting to see his people regain their glory before he died?

    ¡°Maxwell?¡± He started to ask.

    ¡°Ye?¡± Maxwell opened his eyes to look at Nigel.

    ¡°Would¡¯ya give me¡¯a few days tuh t''ink it over?¡±

    Maxwell nodded slowly, his eyes shutting again. ¡°Take¡¯ya time. I¡¯ll be¡¯ere when yous decided.¡±

    With that, Maxwell turned back to the altar, as Nigel hurriedly made his way to the door, completely forgetting his fishing rod. As he walked home, Nigel''s head was spinning. He was bombarded by so many questions in his mind, trying to figure out whether or not to accept the role as a revolutionary leader, or decline and go back to his old habits. Overall, the poor man needed to take his mind off things first, and he thought that a bottle of whiskey ought to help clear his head. He passed his house entirely, and made his way further down the street, and into the pub.