《Duality》


 -2 Cultivation glossary

    @@


    --- May contain minor spoilers ---


    Warrior path: Trains and absorbs mana into the body, increasing strength, stamina, regeneration and even lifespan.


    Warrior path realms: Fighter, Crusader, Paladin.


    Spellcaster path: Trains the mind, increasing reaction speed, memory and rationalization, all required when casting spells.


    Spellcaster path realms: Mage, Archmage, Wizard.


    Each realm is divided into 10 levels.@@

 -1 Not a Chapter - Minor retcons

    @@


    I decided to retcon a couple of minor things. Nothing too important, but that will make writing easier in the future.


    1 - In chapter 5 it was stated that nobles were allowed to use teleportation, while commoners were restricted to flying magical beasts for long distance travels. I''ve decided to remove teleportation entirely and flying magical beasts are much rarer with only nobles having access to them.


    2 - The Warrior Path started at the Fighter realm followed by the Knight realm and finally the Crusader realm. I''ve decided to change the name of the second realm, so no it is Fighter realm -> Crusader realm -> Paladin realm.


    I was also thinking of adding names to the coins, instead of just copper, silver and gold, but ultimately decided against it.@@

 1 Brothers

    "Ladies and gentlemen, please have your invitations ready. The auctions will begin in one hour."


    It was a slightly cold night. John was waiting in line at the museum while discreetly looking around. With his 1.9 meters, he could easily see above other people''s heads. But no matter how much he searched he couldn''t find the man.


    ''Bastard, where are you?'' John was getting anxious. Five years. For five years he has waited for an opportunity to kill the man who sent his little brother to die. Colonel Verich.


    ------


    John and Lucas lost their parents in a car accident when they were just kids. John, 7 years old at the time had to take care of his little brother who was just 2.


    Growing up in an orphanage was hard. John had to work around the clock to take care of Lucas while still keeping up with the studies and helping around the orphanage. But even with all of that, he kept going, because his brother depended on him.


    "Now, seven times four?" 13 years old John asked.


    "Errr twenty... eight?" Answered Lucas not quite certain.


    "That''s right. For now, it''s okay to just remember the table, but in the future, you''ll need to be able to calculate it." Said John with a smile as he checked the clock hanging on the wall. "Alright, that''s all for today. Now go brush your teeth and get in the bed."


    "Awww-"


    "Don''t ''awww'' me, your test is tomorrow and you are not going to stay up late like last time. Now hurry up."


    "Fiiine." Lucas got up from his chair and headed towards the bathroom but stopped midway. "Hey bro."


    "Hmm?"


    "What were our parents like?"


    The question caught John by surprise. He turned his head towards the window and answered.


    "Our parents... they were nice. Now stop talking and go brush your teeth."


    "Ok." Lucas said and then entered the bathroom.


    John couldn''t help looking at a picture on top of the desk. On it, a strong black man with a goatee had a little child on his shoulders. The man was smiling towards the camera while the child was more interested in the cotton candy he had in his hand.


    The man''s right arm was around a brunette woman''s shoulder. She had her hair in a ponytail, and in her arms was a baby sleeping.


    "Mom.. dad..." John muttered as his eyes teared up.


    ------


    "John, why do you have to leave? I''m sure that if you keep trying you will find a job here." 12 years old Lucas tried to convince his brother.


    John was 17 years old now and had just finished high-school. Unfortunately, he wasn''t able to find work, and it would be impossible for him to pay for a college.


    "Lucas, it''s not like I''m going to die." John said with a smile. His little brother spent the whole week trying to convince him to not enlist in the army. "Hey, look. No matter what, I promise you that I will come back, so don''t worry. Besides, you know there''s no one who can defeat your big brother haha."


    "You promise?"


    "Of course. I will call you every day, come back whenever I can, and will also be sending you money so you can focus on school." John looked Lucas in the eyes. "You are way smarter than I was at your age. I will work hard over there, and you must also work hard at school so you can try for a scholarship to a good college, okay?"


    "Hmm okay."


    With that John left to become an Army Ranger and quickly rose through the ranks, ending up joining the special forces. Keeping his promise, he made an effort to always keep in touch with his little brother.


    To his joy, his little brother was quite intelligent and focused on studying, easily graduating from high school and even getting the chance to receive a full scholarship for college. What he didn''t expect though, was that Lucas would refuse to go to college and would enlist himself in the army.


    "Lucas, stop playing around. You have the chance to enter college, a good college." Ironically, now John was the one trying to convince his brother to not join the army. "No one in our family has ever done that before, you could be the first."


    ''''I''m not playing around. I really want to serve in the army. Besides, it''s not like I can''t go to college after I come back."


    "If you want to join the army, why don''t you graduate from college first? Then you can apply to become a commissioned officer and won''t need to fight."


    "I want to see what you see out there. But don''t worry, you have been doing this for years and always came back safe. As the smartest sibling, I naturally will be fine too." Laughed Lucas


    "Haaa... fine, but if you feel like you can''t take it anymore just ask to be transferred back. This job isn''t for everyone, there''s no shame in that."


    Though he said that, John was sure his brother wouldn''t give up, even if he was close to dying. He knew that because he and his brother were two of the same mind. Whenever John felt like throwing the towel, he remembered his little brother at home so he wouldn''t give up.


    Lucas would definitely persevere, for he wanted to make John proud. Not able to convince his brother, John could only try to support him when needed.


    Lucas followed his brother''s footsteps, joining the army rangers and already preparing to join the special forces. Unfortunately, they weren''t able to serve together, as when Lucas graduated from the qualification courses, John was already preparing to retire from the army.


    "Think fast." Said Lucas, as he threw a water bottle towards John who easily caught it.


    Lucas, with a can of beer, sat down by John''s side. "... So, you''re really leaving?"


    "Yeah, I''ve been fighting for too long already. It''s time to stop." John said as he opened the bottle. "My previous squad leader started a private military company, and he offered me a job as a public relations. I will be able to travel around the world and make three times what I''m making here."


    While saying that John didn''t look even once at his brother''s eyes. He simply found it too hard to lie to his brother. The company was a just a cover. On the surface, it seemed to be a regular private contractor, but if one was able to see it''s inner workings, he would find out that this company only had contracts with one single entity.


    The Central Intelligence Agency, CIA.


    John received an offer to work as a covert intelligence operative. In other words, a secret agent. After spending a few days thinking about it, John decided to take the offer.


    "That''s good. I myself will stay a few more years until I decide what I want to do. Maybe finally go to college."


    "That''s good. Honestly, I expected you to bail out at Ranger school and run back home." Said John joking.


    "I have to admit, it wasn''t far from happening. I thought I would die at the swamp phase. When I finally graduated I had lost 13 Kilos." Lucas had a bitter smile on his face.


    John knew how his brother had felt. For the two months that the course lasted John slept an average of fewer than 4 hours a day with almost all the time left being used for training. The training included patrolling, reconnaissance and ambushing, among other daily activities.


    The two months course is designed to make soldiers capable of operating under heavy mental and psychological stress coupled with the physical fatigue of combat.


    "All that matters is that you endured it, and now you''re here."


    "Yeah... so, when will you be leaving?"


    "Next week. In the meantime, I''ve been assigned to guard duty here at the camp."


    "Hmm. Hey, you better save up some of that money you will be making for when I also retire. I want a really good present. A Ferrari at minimum haha"


    "Ha, a Ferrari as a present? You be glad if I even buy you a Hot Wheels."


    "Haha, how cheap. What kind of older brother are you?"


    "The only one you have." John smiled as he lightly hit his brother''s shoulder.


    ------


    "Next!"


    "Right here." John handed the invitation to the guard


    "Hmm, Lucas Smith?" Asked the guard after checking the invitation.


    "That''s right."


    "Okay, you can go ahead." Said the guard as he returned the invitation. "Another guard will also ask for it along with your ID. Next!"


    At the same time, a black SUV was parking a few meters from the Museum entrance.


    "We''ve arrived, Sir." Spoke the driver.


    "Oh, good." Said an old man on his late fifties. His head full of white hair, and his face cleanly shaved. Though old, he retained both his rigid posture and sharp gaze.


    "James, you wait in the car. Michael, you come with me."


    "Yes, Sir." "Yes, Sir."


    The old man, accompanied by his bodyguard, headed towards the line and proceeded to wait his turn.


    "Next!"


    "Here you go." The old man handed his invitation.


    "Emmanuel Verich?"


    "That''s right." The old man said with a smile.

 2 Antique Watch

    "After passing by the guards at the entrance, John still had to go through another, more rigorous check."


    "ID and invitation please."


    "Here you go."


    The guard checked if the name at the ID and the invitation were the same, and then if John was the one shown at the ID.


    For John, it wasn''t that hard to create a fake ID that could fool most people.


    "Everything checks Mr. Smith." Told the guard before handing John his ID along with a plastic tray. "Please place any metal objects in there and then go through the metal detector. As mentioned in the invitation, guns and other weapons aren''t allowed inside the museum."


    "Of course." John placed his phone and car keys on the tray and went through the detector.


    He wasn''t worried as he wasn''t planning on using any guns inside the museum. His plan was to find an opportunity to poison Verich.


    Hidden in his left sock he had a capsule with ricin, an almost undetectable poison. If that didn''t work, and something unforeseeable happens, he still had a wooden knife strapped to his right ankle.


    Though wooden, it was made of Lignum Vitae, a super heavy kind of wood. In fact, the knife he was carrying was so sharp that it could slice through regular wood.


    After passing through the detector, John took his things from the tray and proceeded to the inside of the museum.


    ''Now I blend in and wait.''


    John proceeded to check the items that would be put for auction. They ranged from paintings and sculptures to antique items and ancient pieces of armament. The star of this auction was a painting by Vincent Van Gogh, with the starting price of 800 thousand dollars.


    Most of the people attending the auction were already past the fifties, so John attracted a bit of attention both for his relatively young age at mid-thirties and for being one of the few black people attending.


    John proceeded to mingle with the other guests while keeping an eye at the entrance.


    "...how interesting Mr. Smith. I, for instance, am a great of a fan of The Persistence of Memory. It transmits a surreal feeling of how time and space are relative. When seeing it, I begin to wonder if all my work will even matter in a few decades."


    "I can see your point." John was talking to the owner of some company which he didn''t really bother to remember.


    "As for myself, the single piece of art that touched me the most was Guernica. I remember the first time I saw it as a kid and thought it was something another child had painted haha." John laughed in a self-deprecating manner.


    "Only years later, after fighting in the army did I come to appreciate it''s value. Through this painting, I believe Picasso was able to convey the pain and chaos of war and delivered one of the strongest anti-war messages in history."


    Everything that John said was what he really felt. As a secret agent, he learned that the key to a good lie was to be as close as possible to the truth, without revealing any valuable information.


    "Oh, so you served in the army. Which division?"


    "At Ivy, 4th Infantry division, though I-" John paused for less than a second after noticing the white-haired old man that just came in with his bodyguard, then continued like nothing happened.


    "Though I was only a Private first class before I retired. Fortunately, I was able to land myself a job at a private military contractor."


    "So you were one of the Iron horses. My grandfather has served too, at WWII..." After that John no longer paid much attention to the old man, as he was too focused on Verich.


    ------


    *Clink* *Clink* *Clink*


    John was talking with a middle-aged woman when he heard the sound. At the center of the room stood a tall young man lightly clinking a class with a spoon.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats, the auction is about to begin." Around the man were five rows of numbered chairs in a semicircle."


    "Mr. Smith, come, let''s find seats for us." The middle-aged woman said as she headed towards the chairs.


    She had long, blonde hair and light eyes, dressed in a white dress which accentuated her figure coupled with a pearls necklace.


    They both sat at the third row to the right of the man at the center, at seats 74 and 75. From there John was able to observe Verich and his bodyguard.


    "Mr. Smith, is there any item in particular that has caught your eye?" Asked the woman.


    "I did see a few pieces of art, but none that I felt like bidding for. Now we''ll be able to see all of the items, so I''m hoping there''s something interesting. How about you Mrs. Keuss?"


    "Please, you can call me Jane. And I do have my eye on a set of Chinese dinnerware made of green jade. As long as it doesn''t go over 50 thousand dollars, I will be able to make a profit. I just hope you are not planning on bidding against me." She said with a laugh.


    "Since you asked nicely I promise you that I won''t. Later you can buy me a drink as thanks haha."


    "Most certainly haha."


    At this moment the young man at the center began to speak again.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, I shall be this auction''s host. Seeing as everyone has found a seat, we may begin. The first item of this auction will be..."


    The auction went on. Jane was able to win a few items including the set of dinnerware she wanted. She was able to buy it for just 40 thousand dollars.


    John himself bid for a few paintings but didn''t really try to win anything, while Verich got himself a steel gladius for 6 thousand dollars.


    That''s when finally came something that caught John''s attention.


    "This next item is a 19th-century original pocket watch by Franz Heinlein. Heinlein used solid gold to make the case, while for the backside, he actually inserted a bronze inscription from ancient Greece."


    "The watch is still in working condition, and the inscription pictures a Zodiac wheel."


    "Though the inscription dates back to the 1st century BC, it shows a remarkable dexterity at the carving. The starting bid will be of 3 thousand dollars, with minimum increments of 100 dollars."


    One by one came the bids.


    "3.100!"


    "3.200!"


    "3.400!"


    "3.700!" John also placed his bid.


    "So, you plan on getting this watch?" Jane asked.


    "Yeah, I hope Mrs. won''t fight me for it."


    "It''s of great quality, but unfortunately it''s for men and my husband already has too many watches. I shall let you have it." She said with a smile.


    The biddings continued.


    "5.000!"


    "5.100!"


    "5.200!"


    Now the bids were just between John and an old man with glasses.


    Initially, John was only gonna bid for a few items to keep the pretense, but now he wanted to win this watch. He had quite a bit of cash saved up, and he figured it wouldn''t put too much of a strain on his budget.


    "5.800!" John spoke, and this time the man with glasses didn''t place a bid, therefore the host prepared to close the bids.


    "5.800 dollars at seat 75, going once, going twice-"


    "6.000!" Suddenly spoke a white-haired old man with a sharp gaze.


    John knew this old man, as he was the reason for John to be attending this event. Verich!


    Normally, John would give up so as to not call Verich''s attention towards himself. Unfortunately, despite all his training, John wasn''t in complete control of his emotions.


    It shouldn''t come as a surprise that John wasn''t in his right state of mind, as he was planning the assassination of a high ranked army officer on U.S. soil.


    That was treason, to say the least, and would land him in a secret prison for the rest of his life if found out, besides seriously straining relations between the CIA and the army.


    "6.000 dollars at seat 23, going once-"


    "6.200!"John wasn''t going to give up.


    "6.500!"


    "6.800!"


    The watch whose value was only in the 7-8 thousand dollars range quickly reached the 9 thousand mark, only slowing down when approaching 11 thousand.


    "10.400!"


    "10.500!" Verich bid then said with a laugh. "Friend, this is as high as I''m willing to go. If you can place a higher bid, then the watch is yours.


    John acted like he was hesitating, but on the inside, he had decided already. He would get the watch, and through this, he would obtain his opportunity to poison Verich.


    After a few seconds, John finally spoke.


    "Thank you, Sir, then it looks like I will be taking it with me. 10.600!"


    "10.600! At number 75, going once, going twice, sold! Our attendants shall receive your payment so that you may take your prize."


    "Now, for the next item..."


    Verich no longer paid attention to John and was now focused on the next item.


    "Wow, you really wanted that watch, huh?" Jane spoke by his side. "I wonder what you would be willing to give me if I had it."


    "What can I say, it''s a great piece of jewelry." John smiled as he thought about how he would approach Verich.

 3 Tonight Isll kill you!

    The auction went on for another hour until it was finally time for the last item; a painting by Vincent van Gogh.


    The painting depicted a watermill next to the town of Nuenen on the Netherlands, where Van Gogh lived for 2 years. It was titled ''Water Mill at Kollen Near Nuenen''.


    Starting at 800 thousand dollars, it was the most heated auction of the night, with the final bid at 3.135 million dollars.


    ------


    After the auction ended, the seats were removed and a violin player entered the room.


    As before the auction''s beginning, the guests were now free to wander the museum and observe the pieces on display.


    "The last auction was interesting, to say the least." Jane joked.


    "Yeah, but those two were definitely not interested in the painting."


    "Well, rumors are that Mrs. Brown spent a weekend with Mr. Archer at his lake house. By themselves."


    Mr. Brown and Mr. Archer were the stars of the bidding fight for the Van Gogh. The painting, which was expected to be auctioned for just 2 million, became the stage for a pissing contest between the two whereby the end, they were trading insults along with each bid.


    "He can only blame himself for focusing more on his career than his family." Spoke Jane, though not quite clear if it was Mr. Brown she was talking about. "Excuse me, dear, as I go to the ladies'' room."


    "Of course, I''ll be waiting for you near the entrance."


    After Jane left, John went to an isolated spot behind a statue, where he took the ricin capsule from inside his sock.


    With the capsule in hands, John headed towards the bar where he got himself two expensive drinks.


    ------


    "Sir, the gladius and the painting have been delivered." Verich''s bodyguard told him.


    "Good. A pity that I couldn''t get the watch for Rose''s father, but that black man was too determined to get it." Verich who was by the entrance commented. "That''s all for tonight, let''s go."


    But just as Verich was about to leave...


    "Excuse me, Sir." At this time someone called out to Verich. It was the black man he had just mentioned, the one who won the watch, and he was carrying two drinks while smiling towards him.


    "Oh, may I help you Mr...?"


    "Smith. Lucas Smith. I''m sorry for the auction, but I collect antique watches like that one, so I hope you won''t hold it against me."


    "No, not at all Mr. Smith. I''m not really a fan of those and was just going to gift it to my father-in-law. I''m Verich by the way. Emmanuel Verich."


    "Nice to meet Mr. Verich. Though nothing much, I hope to offer you this drink as an apology." The black man had a sincere expression on his face as he offered one of the drinks.


    "Haha, who am I to refuse a free drink?" Verich took it, but before he could drink it...


    "Sir, Mrs. Verich said you''re not supposed to drink alcohol." His bodyguard.


    "Ah, she and the kids are visiting her parents, how would she find out?"


    "She would because she asked me and James to keep an eye on you."


    "Dammit, you are two traitors, that''s what." Verich complained. "Sorry friend, it looks like I''ll have to refuse." He said before handing the drink back.


    "That''s ok, I just hope we may be able to meet again in the future."


    "Haha, certainly." Verich laughed as he left.


    ------


    ''Dammit!'' John cursed inwardly. ''I''ll have to go to his home then, though it will be more dangerous.''


    As he was thinking, Jane came back.


    "Wasn''t that the man you fought for the watch?" She asked.


    "Yeah." John answered shortly.


    "Well, if he doesn''t want the drink, I do." She said as she reached for the drink John had offered.


    "Here, take mine." John said as he handed her the other one.


    "What''s the difference?"


    "That old man didn''t recognize me, but he was one of the instructors while I was at Ranger School. The one thing I wanted the most during that time was to cave his teeth in. After meeting him tonight, I tried to gift him something special, but he didn''t take it"


    John told a lie, though it wasn''t completely false. He did have an instructor during training that he wished he could beat down, so he just used him as an example.


    "Something special, what is it?" She asked


    "Nothing too harmful, let''s just say it would make his wife very happy."


    "Very happy?" She asked before finally realizing. "Oh, you naughty thing haha."


    "Well, I tried." John said as he dumped the glass''s content on a vase of plants. "Now I guess it''s time for me to leave."


    Just as he was leaving, Jane called him out.


    "Leaving so soon, but the night has just started. Why don''t we continue this talk at my apartment? My husband is on a business trip and such a big place can be so lonely..." She said while caressing John''s arm.


    "Though quite tempting I will have to take a rain check, as I still have something that I must do." John smiled apologetically before continuing. "How about I make it up to you this weekend? I can follow Mr. Archer''s example and take you to visit my lake house."


    "It''s a promise then." Jane said before and then handed John a card. "Here is my number. Please don''t take too long, I might not be able to handle the waiting."


    "You don''t have to worry."


    With that Jane left. John would have taken her offer if only this night wasn''t so important.


    John figured that Verich might not take the drink, so he would need to go to his home. Therefore, he arranged for Verich''s father-in-law to get sick, so that his wife and kids would be out of the house.


    Tonight, there were just Verich and his two bodyguards.


    ------


    Verich was in the back seat of his car, heading back home.


    "What''s wrong, Sir?"


    "You mean besides the two of you working with my wife?" Verich said a little angry before asking. "Michael, have you seen that Lucas before?"


    "I don''t think so Sir, why?"


    "Somehow, I feel like I''ve seen him before."


    After talking to the man, Verich couldn''t shake the feeling that he had met that Lucas before. He kept thinking about it the whole way home, but couldn''t seem to remember.


    Arriving at home, he headed to his bedroom upstairs. One of the bodyguards would stay inside the car on the street while the other would keep watch over the back entrance.


    Inside the bedroom, Verich was putting on his pajama when he noticed the medal on top of the bookcase, and it finally hit him.


    "That''s it, the Squad leader!"


    The Lucas he met today looked quite similar to a squad leader he once had under his command.


    Five years ago, the Colonel received news of a terrorist they had been looking for quite some time. According to the intel, the terrorist was in an isolated village.


    There were signs he was about to disappear once again, and there wasn''t enough time to send in a drone, so Verich decided to send a squad in.


    The leader of the squad argued that it was too good to be true and that it might be a trap, but Verich ordered them to go.


    He also knew it might be a trap, but he figured that the merit for taking down the terrorist would outweigh any possible soldier loss.


    The 12 men squad left for the village, where they really discovered the terrorist, along with 30 enemy combatants.


    Though the whole squad died, they were able to take out the terrorist along with 25 other combatants, so the mission was considered a success and Verich was awarded a medal for it.


    After remembering it, the Colonel rushed to his laptop, and pulled the file from everyone at that squad, finally finding the one he was looking for.


    -Staff Sergeant Lucas Freeman, 26, KIA.-


    The file had Lucas''s info along with his photo. He looked quite similar to the Lucas he had met at the auction.


    ''They look too much alike, they must be related.''


    Then, he began to check for any known relatives.


    -Parents died in a car accident when he was 2. Grew up in an orphanage along with his brother John Freeman. Joined the army at 17 following his brother''s footsteps...-


    ''John? Let''s see if there''s some info about him.''


    Verich found John''s file, but when he tried to open it...


    -Access Denied-


    He tried again but it was the same result.


    ''This doesn''t make sense, I should be able to see the file of any soldier that has been in the army. Unless... Fuck!''


    He knew of a way for a soldier''s file to remain restricted to the army officers. If he left for the CIA.


    Thinking about the CIA operatives methods, Verich couldn''t help remembering the drink John had offered him and started to sweat cold.


    ''If Michael hadn''t stopped me, I could''ve died. Not only that, that John will certainly not give up.''


    Without thinking twice, he called on the radio for his bodyguards.


    "Michael, James, answer."


    "Michael here Sir." "..."


    "James, answer."


    ------


    On the street in front of the house, the bodyguard James was sitting on the driver''s seat, two bullet wounds to the chest.


    John was still wearing the black suit he used for the auction, although now he was also carrying a silenced pistol.


    He took the bodyguard''s pistol and radio, before heading to the entrance. He was thinking about how to disarm the security alarm when he heard the radio going out.


    "Michael, James, answer."


    "Michael here Sir."


    "James, answer."


    ''He must have found out about me already.'' John thought.


    Picking up the bodyguard''s radio, John answered.


    "Verich, tonight I''ll kill you!"

 4 Death and Reincarnation

    "Verich, tonight I''ll kill you!"


    John no longer cared about the security alarm, and directly kicked the door.


    "Dammit!"


    Verich rushed to get his gun, while his bodyguard came running through the back entrance.


    The bodyguard took cover behind the wall that separated the kitchen and the living room while John took cover behind the wall that led to the living room.


    John and the bodyguard traded shots, while Verich had just reached the stairs. From up there, he had a direct line of sight to where John was hiding.


    "Michael, go through the window and circle around him. I''ll cover you."


    "Yes, Sir."


    ''Dammit!'' John cursed inwardly.


    He couldn''t back down now, as the next time would be much tougher to kill Verich, but if he let the bodyguard circle past him it would mean death.


    ''I can''t go back now, I can''t! Even if I have to die here, he will die with me.'' John made his decision and dashed towards another wall while shooting at the bodyguard.


    *P-taff!* *Baang!* *P-taaaffff!* *Baaaannngg!*


    *Bang!* *Baaang!*


    For a few instants. During those brief instants, while John dashed towards the wall, he felt time slowing down. It was like he could see the bullets heading for the bodyguard, as well as the one coming towards himself.


    The bodyguard fell and John managed to get to the other wall, and from his new vantage point, he was able to double tap the bodyguard to make sure he was dead.


    Unfortunately, he had also been hit. The bullet went through the side of his abdomen. Though the wound wasn''t fatal, it would hinder his movements.


    ''What the hell?'' John wondered. He had been in other firefights, but it was the first time he felt time slowing down.


    He didn''t wonder for too long though, as he still had to take care of Verich.


    "Verich, you son of a bitch! It''s just you and me now!"


    "You lunatic, do you have any idea what you''re doing!? I''m a US Colonel! You and everyone you love will pay for this!"


    "Everyone I love!? The only person I had left died because of you, while you received a fucking medal!" John bellowed back. "Verich, even if I die, you''re coming with me!"


    John couldn''t let this go on, as every minute he would lose more blood.


    With both pistols in hand, John dashed towards the stairs.


    Verich was a commissioned officer, so he rarely saw combat, besides already being old. He wasn''t able to aim as well as John, though he still managed to hit John once.


    Unfortunately for him, John was also able to hit him twice.


    "Argh!"


    Verich wasn''t able to remain on his feet and rolled down the stairs, while John fell to the floor.


    Both were wounded. John didn''t know about Verich, but he was sure that himself wouldn''t be able to survive.


    He no longer cared, as long as he could make sure Verich died.


    He aimed the pistol towards Verich and fired.


    *Clink!*


    Empty. He tried the other one, but it was the same.


    ''No. No, No, NO!''


    John had to make sure Verich would die. He still had the knife strapped to his ankle, though getting to Verich would be hard.


    ''Get up.''


    ''Get up!'' John screamed inwardly. He had come too far.


    "Haa... haa... Get up!"


    Whatever it takes, he must finish what he started. John used all of his forces to get on his feet. With the knife in hands, he headed towards Verich.


    The distance between the two was roughly 5 meters, though it felt like kilometers for John. It was like each leg weighed a hundred kilos.


    He felt dizzy like he would fall down any second, but he didn''t stop. John was using all his energy to end this.


    When he finally walked the 5 meters, John''s hands were shaking. His legs lasted long enough for him to kneel down by Verich''s side.


    From this distance, John could see that Verich was unconscious but still breathing.


    John forced himself to raise the knife. He had never wanted to kill someone so much as this man.


    All his previous missions were just that, missions. This would be the first person he killed because he really wanted.


    Summoning all the strength he had left, John''s hands became firm, and he stabbed down.


    The knife hit Verich''s rib, but as if cutting through butter, it kept going. It pierced his heart and still managed to reach the ribs at the back.


    With that, Verich was dead.


    Having no more strength left, John fell to the floor.


    ------


    In a garden extremely far away, an old man with a long grey beard had his eyes closed in meditation. Next to him was a harvesting scythe.


    ''Huh?'' The old man opened his eyes and looked into the distance, past the trees and mountains, outside the world he was in.


    ''A desolate world, but why do I feel someone going through an awakening there? And I can feel it is close to one of my amulets.''


    He began working to pinpoint the exact location until he found a small blue planet with life in it.


    The old man saw John who was about to stab Verich.


    ''That boy has no strength left... what!?''


    The old man got up as if he couldn''t believe what he just saw. At that moment, John strength increased exponentially.


    John wasn''t able to see it, but this old man could. John''s stab didn''t just hit the second rib but managed to pierce it too, damaging the floor beneath it.


    ''A body awakening! I have to know more about this boy.''


    In an instant, the old man was able to look through the past and find out everything about John.


    ''So his name is John. Parents died when he was a kid and now he went to avenge his brother. He awakened to the cultivation path and was able to have his vengeance, but unfortunately, he is about to die.''


    ''Hmm.'' the man spent a few minutes though not even a second passed by at Earth.


    ''Such a rare genius and he even has one of my amulets. I must try helping him.'' With that, the old man teleported to John''s world. It was quite easy as it was just a desolate world with barely any energy in it.


    ------


    John was bleeding on the floor. He could hear the police sirens far away.


    ''So this is how I die.'' John thought. ''At least I could avenge you, Lucas.''


    John looked at Verich''s body at the side. Of all the people John killed, he was the only one because of emotion.


    "Guess I''ll be seeing you in hell."


    That''s when John noticed. The sirens had stopped. At that moment an old man simply materialized in front of him.


    The old man transmitted a feeling of infinite wisdom as if with a single look he could see through everything.


    "Hello, child."


    "Go-God?"


    "Haha, I suppose that for you I would be some kind of God."


    After saying that, the old man snapped his fingers and John immediately felt his mind getting clear again and the pain of his wounds disappearing.


    John couldn''t help asking.


    "Who are you?"


    The old man smiled. "You may call me Chronos, and you''re John am I right?"


    That''s when John took a better look at the old man. He was dressed in a long, white robe, and in his hand, he had a big harvesting scythe.


    He had grey hair and a long grey beard. Looking at his eyes, John felt like this man knew everything about him.


    "Chronos? As in the God of time?"


    "That''s right. I know it must seem shocking to you considering your life. When your parents died, you began to doubt how God could allow something like this to happen isn''t that right?"


    "Ye-yeah." It was an uncomfortable feeling to have someone know everything about you.


    "So, Sir Go- Chronos. Why did you save me?"


    "Well, I actually didn''t. After I leave, you will still have two bullet wounds, and you''ll die before the police arrive. If I will really save you will depend on your choice as well as your own luck, but I''m getting ahead of myself."


    "The reason that I''m here, is because fate brought us together."


    "Fate?"


    "That''s right. Now pay attention, for I will explain a few things you probably don''t know." Chronos said with a smile and once again snapped his fingers. In his hand appeared an antique watch. The watch John had won at the auction


    "This watch that you obtained a few hours ago. You could have chosen any other item, but you chose this one." Chronos showed the back of the watch. "See this Zodiac Wheel? That''s my amulet."


    "When you dashed to shoot the bodyguard, for a brief moment you felt time slow down. That''s what we call an awakening. A mind awakening to be exact. Not only that, you were able to push beyond your body capabilities to deliver the final blow. That was a body awakening."


    "Awakenings happen when a person first interacts with the energies of the world. Therefore this depends on how much energy the world has as well as the person''s talent."


    "Some people are able to awaken when still at the mother''s womb, while others may spend their whole lives never experiencing it."


    "But, your world is what is called a desolate world. The energies here are quite weak, making it almost impossible to have an awakening, and you''re probably the first one at your world to experience one."


    "Such a rare happening and you also happened to be carrying one of my amulets, I can only see this as fate."


    "..." John was stunned. Awakening, energies of the world, fate. If John hadn''t seen the things this Chronos could do, he would think him to be crazy.


    "Haha, it must be quite hard to digest all this information. But this isn''t what is important."


    "Before, you said you would see this man in hell. Let me show you what really happens when a person dies." With that, Chronos snapped his fingers again, and John couldn''t believe what he saw. It was Verich. More specifically a second, ghostlike Verich, floating over the body on the floor.


    Though he was floating there, at every second he was getting more and more transparent.


    "See that? It''s his spirit, and it is dissipating. That''s because his body died, and it is the same thing that would happen to you had I not come. No eternal suffering In hell or salvation in heaven, simply nothing."


    John was astonished. " So... everyone who dies, simply disappear?"


    "Not exactly. If a person is strong enough, their spirit will evolve into a soul. When the body dies, the soul is able to enter the cycle of rebirth and reincarnate on a new body, though they lose all of their memories. Unfortunately, none of the people of your world is strong enough to have a soul."


    John didn''t know what to say. That means that when this Chronos leaves, he would simply cease existing.


    "Well, I guess it''s better than eternal damnation. But then... why are you telling me all of this?"


    "Hehe, remember I told you it would depend on your choice if I would be saving you? Though normally you wouldn''t be able to reincarnate, it is possible with my help."


    "With my help, you will be able to enter the cycle of rebirth and be born again in another world. Not only that, you would be able to keep your memories."


    Chronos smiled at John and then finally made the question. The reason that he came to this world.


    "John, do you wish to reincarnate?"


    Reincarnate? John didn''t know what to say. When he mentioned hell after killing Verich, it was a figure of speech. John wasn''t really a man of much faith.


    But now he truly had the chance for an afterlife, though it wasn''t quite what he imagined.


    ''Calm down, I have to think this through.''


    "..." Chronos waited patiently for John''s answer. Though he seemed calm, he was actually quite anxious. He really wanted to help John reincarnate, though if the person didn''t want to, there was nothing Chronos could do.


    "Sir Chronos, I can''t believe reincarnating can be that simple. What are you not telling me?"


    "Hehe, guess I can''t hide it from you. Though I made it look simple, I can only guarantee you will be able to enter the cycle of rebirth, and that you won''t reincarnate on a desolate world like this one."


    "After that, various things will happen. You will definitely recover your memories, but I simply can''t know when. You may be born with them, or only get them back when you''re an old man already. It will depend on your own talent."


    "Not only that, you may be reborn as the son of an emperor, or a slave. No one really knows how the cycle of rebirth chooses."


    "Finally, even if you recover your memories quite early, and manages to reincarnate as a prince, Life itself can be your own hell. It may sound strange now, but you will understand if you manage to live as long as I have."


    "Now, you know everything there is to know. I can help you reincarnating, but what happens after that..." Chronos had an apologetic expression on his face. "I know all of this seems too surprising for you. Unfortunately, you must make a decision, as I can''t keep the time stopped for much longer. Now, what will you choose?"


    John''s mind was racing. If Chronos had actually told him he would reincarnate back to his own body when he was a child, John would immediately accept. If that happened, John would be able to stop the accident that killed his parents. With their parents alive, Lucas wouldn''t have died fighting in the war.


    But that wasn''t the choice he had. He had to choose between simply disappearing, or a new life in another world, with things like awakenings, and the energies of the world...


    ''My parents are dead. I was able to kill the one responsible for my brother''s death. Working for so long, I never bothered to get a wife or kids. I have nothing that binds me to this world, and so much that I wish I could''ve done.''


    He thought for a few moments but finally made his choice.


    "Sir Chronos, I wish to reincarnate."


    "Haha, good choice! Now, I will create a Pseudo-Soul for you. Just hold still and don''t fight back."


    John could feel something envelop him, though he didn''t quite know what it was.


    After a couple of minutes.


    "Done! This pseudo-soul will last long enough for you to reincarnate. Now I have to leave so that your body may die. I hope we''re able to meet again in the future."


    After saying it, Chronos disappeared.


    There once again was the sound of police sirens.


    John was back at the floor and he could once again feel the pain of his wounds.


    Five minutes later, the police came inside the house but were only able to find 3 dead bodies.


    A couple of days after that a piece of news shocked the world.


    -CIA secret agent goes rogue and murders US Colonel, along with two bodyguards.-


    ------


    "Cough! Cough!"


    Chronos was back in the garden, and he was coughing blood. The reason he left was that he hurt himself while creating the pseudo-soul for John.


    Guiding a weak spirit towards the cycle of rebirth was hard enough, and Chronos even made sure that John would have his memories.


    But it was worth it.


    Someone who could awaken both body and mind on a desolate world was a rarely seen genius.


    "I hope he manages to cultivate quickly. We''ll need all the help we can get against the legion..."

 5 John Yao

    Afternoon.


    It was a small bedroom, the sunlight coming in through the single window it had.


    "Push! I can see it."


    On the bed, a woman was giving birth to a child, while a midwife assisted her.


    "Waaa! Waaaaa!"


    "It''s out, and he''s a boy."


    After much effort, the child was finally born.


    ------


    The midwife had just left while the woman held the now sleeping boy in her arms.


    "Jonathan." The woman quietly spoke while looking outside through the window. "We finally have our own child, a beautiful baby boy, but you''re not here to see him."


    She had a sad look in her eyes. Finally, she had escaped, but her loved one had to stay behind.


    His family couldn''t accept him falling in love with a slave woman. The two of them tried to run away together, but his family pursued.


    Now, she had no idea if he was dead or alive.


    "My son. Your father''s name is Jonathan, so you shall be called John. John Yao."


    Though the boy had noble blood, they would never accept him, therefore she could only give her own surname to the child. Her name is Dene Yao, from the Yao tribe, though her tribe no longer exists.


    "John, I don''t know how much longer I have in this world, but I promise to stay with you for as long as I can. I shall teach you everything that I know so that you''re better able to survive."


    ------


    Five years passed since John was born. He was already able to read, though nothing too difficult.


    Right now, John was in his room trying to memorize a spell incantation his mother wrote.


    "John, come here." He heard his mother calling from outside.


    The two of them lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of a small town called Greenflower. The cottage was only big enough for their rooms plus the kitchen.


    John got up from his bed and headed outside to meet his mother. She was waiting by the fence with the same stern look as always. On each hand, she had two small sticks.


    "John, how''s the mind training coming along?" She asked.


    "I remember about half of the spell." John answered.


    "Hmm, recite it for me then."


    "Yes."


    [Akular Khetsaram Kali Norn]


    [Miopiar Suh Soth Damen Pveathr]


    "Er..." John tried to recite the rest but failed to remember it.


    "You can stop. This time you managed to recite half of it, better than last time." She said, though without a change in expression.


    "In a few weeks you should be able to have it memorized, that''s not bad. Now let me ask you a question. What does it mean to cultivate?"


    "Um, to cultivate is to train the body and the mind, so we can become stronger." John answered what he could remember.


    "Good, that''s basically it. There are two different paths; the Warrior path, focused on training the body, and the spellcaster path which trains the mind."


    "Remembering the spell incantations is a way of training the mind, though quite basic. To truly train the mind also requires you to manipulate mana to cast the spell."


    "Comparatively, training the body is simpler, as it only requires you to exercise your muscles and absorb mana into then."


    "Now, you''re already five years old, which means it''s time for you to start training for real," Dene said as she threw the sticks in her right hand towards John. "From this day forward, you and I shall train every day. During the day I''ll teach you combat, while at night you''ll learn spells and important knowledge from the world."


    "Now, take one stick on each hand and try attacking me."


    John''s father was famous for his sword and shield skills. Unfortunately, Dene wasn''t very proficient with it, so she decided to teach the twin shortswords techniques from her tribe.


    "Try again, this time watch your stance. The back must remain straight and the hips cant be so tense, you must remain agile or you will be easy prey. Keep your head high, eyes on the opponent. You must have the opponent in your sight at all times."


    "You''re holding the weapons with too much force, the thumb and the forefinger must remain flexible. Also, don''t put so much force at the attack or your sword may end stuck at the opponent''s body.


    "Never try to block an attack, you''re using swords, not a shield. A blow is coming at you, use one sword to deflect it to the side, sidestep away and stab with the other sword."


    "Armor is made to stop attacks, so you must aim for where it is weaker or simply is not present. That can be the eyes, gaps of the armor, the crooks of the elbow or the knee. Don''t simply throw attacks. Observe, think and aim. And always strive to win with as little effort as possible."


    That was John''s life growing up. Learning how to fight during the day and when the body was resting at night he would learn magic, knowledge about the kingdom, how to read, and other things he would need to know when not fighting.


    "Mom."


    "Yes, my child?"


    "Why is our skin different than other people''s?"


    "That''s our heritage my child, the way the gods made us. By day we are able to better withstand the scorching desert sun, while at night we better blend with the shadows, becoming deadly hunters."


    "Ooooh¡­ and Is the desert far from here?"


    "Very far, taking years if you try to go by normal horse. The best way to get there is by flying magical beasts, but only nobles have access to them. To commoners like us, there''s only renting or trying to tame a magical beast that you can ride."


    "But it is so beautiful," Dene Smiled. "Different from here, the days are much brighter in the south, the sand dunes and the oases full of animals. And at night you can see so many stars, like fireflies in the sky. If one day you get the chance you should try visiting it, you won''t regret."


    ------


    The training routine went on for 3 more years until John was ready for his awakening.


    "Now focus," Dene instructed her son. "Do as I taught you and try absorbing the mana into your body. Breath in... breath out."


    John was kneeling on the ground, his eyes closed and head down. Dripping with sweat he began to absorb and guide the mana inside his body.


    He could feel the energy sip into his body, strengthening it. Through his breathing, it entered the lungs where it entered the bloodstream, and flowed to his muscles.


    Every minute they would become stronger, slowly surpassing what a normal human being could achieve until finally...


    John felt a surge of strength. For an instant, he felt like he could destroy a boulder with a single punch, though the feeling quickly disappeared, leaving him exhausted.


    He began falling forward, but Dene, already expecting this, supported him.


    "Well done John, you did it. How do you feel?" She asked with a smile, though John, clearly awake, didn''t answer. "...John?"


    John kept looking down, as if in a trance.


    For a few seconds, he felt like a completely different person.


    He saw himself stabbing an unconscious old man with a knife. John didn''t know why, but he felt a deep hatred for this man as if the only thing that mattered was to kill him.


    The knife pierced the old man''s chest, ending his life. After this, the vision ended and John passed out.


    "John. John!" Dene screamed.


    He slept for an entire day while Dene kept going back and forth with worry.


    Exhaustion was common after awakening, but she never heard of someone passing out after it. She was on the verge of calling for a doctor when John finally woke up.


    ------


    When John woke up, he noticed that he was now laying on his bed. Looking around he saw his mother pacing around the room.


    "... Mom?" He called quietly.


    "John!, how do you feel?" She asked.


    John was surprised, he had never seen his mother so worried before. She had big dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn''t slept the whole night.


    "I-I''m a bit tired. What happened?"


    "Don''t you remember? You passed out after your awakening."


    "The awakening..." John then finally recalled what happened. He had just gone through his awakening when he had a strange vision where he killed someone. After that, John passed out.


    "Now, you may have woken up, but you''re still too tired. Don''t worry about the training for today, I''ll cook something for you to eat, then you should go to sleep ok?"


    "Ok." John chose to not tell his mother what he saw, as he thought she was too worried already.


    Dene then left towards the kitchen, where she began preparing the food.


    This was the first time in 3 years that John didn''t have to train, but he was simply too tired to enjoy it.


    ''What was that? I never saw that man before, so why did I feel so much hate for him?''


    Dene brought his food to the bed, but even after eating he kept thinking about it until he fell asleep.

 6 10 years old

    John woke up the next day, his body no longer tired from the awakening.


    As he wasn''t able to understand what he saw, John chose to ignore it and focus on his training instead.


    During combat training, he no longer used two sticks, but a pair of real shortswords, albeit blunted ones. After his body awakening, John now had the physical strength of an average teenager, despite only being 8 years old.


    His mother taught him about the two cultivation paths, the Warrior and Spellcaster. The Warrior path focused on the body while the Spellcaster path focused on the mind.


    A stronger body meant greater physical strength, stamina, regeneration, among other things. It was even possible to increase longevity if your body was strong enough.


    On the other hand, a stronger mind would give a better memory, faster rationalizing, and even quicker reactions, all things essential to manipulate the mana to cast spells.


    Although the paths were independent of each other, as a person could just focus on one and forget the other, it was customary to dabble a bit on the other.


    The reason was that despite being independent, they were also correlated, meaning that one path could offer benefits to the other.


    Quicker reactions were extremely beneficial to a Warrior, as in combat, even a split second could mean the difference between life and death. And greater longevity, coupled with being able to withstand more mana into the body, was of great help to a Spellcaster.


    Therefore, both Warriors and Spellcasters had a bit of knowledge about the other path.


    John was outside, sparring with his mother. He was quickly approaching her level in combat techniques, forcing Dene to use ever more intricate moves to defeat John.


    But that was just sparring, where she didn''t truly use her strength. Even with his awakening, John wouldn''t be able to truly defeat her as she was a Crusader realm Warrior.


    The Warrior path was divided into realms, each more powerful than the one before. Each realm had 10 levels. It began with the Fighter realm, then came Crusader realm and beyond it was the Paladin realm.


    As a newly awakened Warrior, John was only a level 1 Fighter, and he didn''t really feel proud about it, seeing as practically everyone in Greenflower was a Fighter realm Warrior or greater.


    From the drunkards to the hobos, all of them were Fighters, while the strongest guards were in the Crusader realm already.


    While John didn''t feel special about his awakening, Dene was extremely happy, although she didn''t show it on her face.


    ''With the full support of my tribe, I was able to have my second awakening at 8 years old. John, on the other hand, didn''t have access to any of the resources I had, and only has me as a teacher, but he''s already a level 1 Fighter...''


    ''Not just that, he also is very talented with the twin shortswords.''


    Dene knew how good this speed of progress was. Although a noble kid would be more powerful than John, that would be because they had access to better resources and teachers than him. If they were commoners, most would still not have achieved their awakenings.


    ''With such a pace, it would be possible for him to reach both the Crusader and Wizard realms before his thirties. If so then...'' Dene''s eyes began to shine.


    ------


    "Now, pay attention." Dene spoke.


    The sun had already set, and John was now learning more about spells.


    Dene slowly recited the spell incantation to demonstrate it to John. He could feel the mana moving around him, although he wasn''t able to see it.


    When it was done, she uttered the spell name.


    [Shadow Cover!]


    Dene began to blend with the shadows. By the end, John could no longer see her, although he knew she was there.


    "This is a Mage level spell, useful to better hide at night, though it won''t help you a lot against someone on a higher realm than you."


    Just like the Warrior path, the Spellcaster path was also divided into realms further divided into 10 levels. First Mages, then came Archmages, and then there are Wizards.


    "This spell belongs to the Darkness element, and was one of the most commons from our tribe, as we used it to hunt at night."


    "But as you know, to cast a spell takes more than just uttering the spell incantation, the most important being how you guide mana into forming the spell. In fact, you can cast it even without it, if you''re strong enough. Let me show you."


    Dene dispelled the [Shadow Cover] and John could once again see her.


    "Now watch." She said, before gradually blending with the shadows once again.


    "See? As an Archmage, I''m able to ignore the chanting for such a low-level spell and cast it directly. That''s because the chanting is actually a form of self-hypnosis. During it, the Spellcaster is able to focus their full mind on the spell."


    "Wait if the chanting causes self-hypnosis, doesn''t the Spellcaster becomes vulnerable then?" John spoke for the first time since the lesson began.


    "That''s right. In a direct fight between a Warrior and a Spellcaster, the Warrior is the most likely to win."


    "The Spellcaster is only able to ignore the chanting for low-level spells, which aren''t able to threaten a Warrior by themselves. On the other hand, if the Spellcaster tries to chant a spell, the Warrior is free to attack the Spellcaster."


    "That''s why most Spellcasters try to hire bodyguards, or tame magic beasts to protect them while they chant their spells."


    "But while it''s certainly true that Spellcasters are weaker on direct confrontation, they can make a huge difference in a group fight, as a single Archmage level spell is able to kill a group of Crusader."


    "But that''s how it''s done here at the north, as they have much stronger spells. But the southern tribes only have weaker spells, that although are easier to cast, also have less power."


    "The way our spellcasters fight is by focusing on the Warrior path and using weaker spells as support. Although no single spell will be able to defeat an enemy of the same level, they can create an opening for you to attack with the swords. Understand?"


    "Yes." John answered.


    "Good. Keep working on training your mind and you''ll be able to have a mind awakening in 2 or 3 years."


    Dene continued her teachings for the night before both went to sleep.


    ------


    The days of training continued, and John kept steadily improving. 2 years passed and John was now 10 years old. As a half southern boy, John was naturally taller than most at his age, already being 1.5 meters tall.


    Now, Dene was no longer able to teach him any new combat moves as he already knew everything she did about it. If not for their level difference, and not including spells, he would be able to fight her to a standstill now.


    "Alright, that''s good enough." Dene stopped the spar.


    "What''s wrong?" He asked confused.


    It wasn''t noon yet, so it shouldn''t be time for lunch.


    "John, you have been progressing very quickly." She spoke with a rare smile. "In just 2 years since awakening, you''re already a level 4 Fighter, and your mind awakening should be quite close am Iright?"


    "Yes mother, I feel that in 1 or 2 months I''ll be able to step into the Mage realm."


    "That''s good. Now, wait here, I want to give you something." Dene spoke before heading into the house.


    A few minutes later, she came back carrying a locked, wooden chest and placed it on the ground.


    John was a bit confused, as he never saw that chest before, so his mother should have bought it recently.


    "What''s in the chest?"


    "Open it and you''ll know." She said before handing John a key.


    John was eager to see it, so he knelt down and entered the key into the lock. With a clink, the chest opened, revealing its contents.


    Inside the chest was a pair of sharp iron shortswords, not like the blunted ones he used for training.


    The hilts were covered with leather for a better grip, and the pommels had three white concentric circles at the bottom. He knew this as the symbol of the Yao tribe.


    Along with the shortswords were also a pair of arm guards, a tanned leather armor that he could wear under his clothes, plus dark leather pants, and a pair of soft sole boots.


    "Wow, is all this for me? Why?" He asked excitedly.


    "John, you''re already 10 years old, which in our tribe means that you''re old enough to learn how to hunt."


    "So you''ll take me to go hunting?" John asked.


    "No, you''ll have to go by yourself." Dene looked into her son''s eyes.


    The tribesmen usually had dark brown eyes, similar to their skins, but John inherited his father''s light hazel eye color.


    "My son, when it comes to sword techniques, I''ve taught you everything that I know. Now, it''s time for you to experience real combat. Your training is over for today. I want you to be well rested."


    "Tomorrow, you''ll head into the forest and you''re only allowed to come back after slaying a magical beast."

 7 Trophy

    After saying what she had to say, Dene went back to her room.


    Closing the door, she lightly sighed with an expression of worry on her face.


    ''My life force... I don''t have much longer. I must make sure John is able to survive by himself before it completely runs out...''


    ------


    John was very excited about the hunt. For the first time, he would experience real combat, instead of just sparring with his mother.


    Dragging the chest, he entered his room. Once inside, as he was in a closed environment, John began to notice the smell of the recently tanned leather, though he was so happy with the new armor that he didn''t even mind.


    He took off his clothes and put on his new equipment. The pants and boots were custom sized with John''s measures in mind. They were large enough to take into account John''s growth, and would probably fit him for 1 or 2 years.


    The armor, on the other hand, was a standard one, with straps on the sides to regulate the size. same for the arm guards, so they should last for much longer.


    Warriors from the northern kingdoms usually wear heavy, full plated armor, that offer much better protection than John''s leather armor, but it also seriously impacts their mobility.


    All of the southern tribes'' fighting styles focused on being light on your feet, therefore such heavy armor would only get in John''s way.


    John moved around his room to check if the equipment would hinder him in any way. After making sure it wouldn''t, he took it off and went to sleep.


    ------


    John woke up the next day before sunrise. He got up from the bed and put on his equipment, the sword sheaths strapped to his back.


    Leaving the room he saw his mother sitting close to the fire.


    "You''re awake, good." Dene spoke, then pointed to the table. "Eat your food and head towards the forest. There''s a bag by the door for you to store your spoils, along with a hunting knife and a satchel."


    On the table was his breakfast consisting of bread, milk and a few fruits. John wasn''t allowed to take any of this food to the forest. When he felt hungry, he would have to depend on foraging for fruits and hunting wild animals.


    John ate his fill while Dene gave the details about what he''d have to do.


    "Remember, not any magical beast will do. You must hunt either a Wind Deer or a Great Boar."


    The Wind Deer is a docile and easily frightened species, and receive their names by the extreme speed they''re able to reach, easily running away from anyone under the Crusader realm. To hunt such a beast John will have to set an ambush and either kill it in one strike or cripple its legs.


    The Great Boar, on the other hand, is an aggressive kind of magical beast which has at most the strength of a level 4 Fighter, coupled with an excessively thick skin. It would be impossible for John to kill a Great Boar with a single ambush, meaning that he will have to fight it out.


    This hunt was a rite of passage in the Yao tribe, and from the magical beasts his mother chose, John could see what would be tested. To set an ambush for the Wind Deer will require patience, cunning, and stealth, while the Great Boar is simply combatting power but is much more dangerous.


    Although not the same magical beasts from the south, Dene maintained the same principle for this hunt.


    John finished eating, took the bag by the door and said goodbye to his mother. Following the tribe''s customs, he''d come back as a man, or wouldn''t come back at all.


    Their small cottage was located on the edge of town. John followed the road west towards the forest.


    He walked along the road for 2 hours, while admiring the view of the farmlands and open plains along the way.


    Although his mother taught him about the local geography, this was his first time leaving Greenflower and seeing it all in person.


    The forest didn''t have anything of special, and like so many other forests in the dukedom, it didn''t have a name. Extending for almost a 100 kilometers, it stopped a few kilometers from the dukedom''s border.


    Entering the forest, John followed the road for a few more kilometers before leaving it.


    The reason was that the animals and magical beasts learned to avoid the road, as it was too common for people and carts to go through it so it would be easier to hunt away from it.


    As it was autumn, the ground was filled with dry leaves that crackled whenever John stepped on then. He had to make a special effort to avoid them.


    Tiptoeing around the forest, he kept searching for tracks of either one of the beasts, when a pair of golden, slitted eyes locked onto him.


    ''Hmm?'' John''s ears picked up a small rustle by a tree to his front left.


    He kept going forward as usual, while remaining completely alert.


    Step by step he was approaching the tree. When he was just 2 meters away, it finally attacked.


    John retracted his step, while swiftly grabbing a sword from his back and slashing downwards, all in one single motion.


    John felt his sword cutting through something. Only then John saw what attacked him.


    It was a green, venomous snake, with almost John''s height in length, though now it had been cut in two close to the head.


    Different from a magical beast, which has evolved by absorbing mana, this was just a common animal, though its venom could still cause trouble for John.


    The snake agonized for a couple seconds before finally dying.


    John didn''t move, as he checked if there were any other predators around. After making sure there weren''t, he wiped the blood of the sword and focused his attention on the snake''s body.


    Although not a magical beast, it still was John''s first kill, so he didn''t want it to go to waste.


    First, he used the hunting knife to remove the snake''s skin and some of the meat. Using the skin to wrap the meat, John stored both inside the bag. As he had cut the snake in a single strike close to the head, there were almost one and a half meters of intact skin.


    With the skin removed, John now focused on the head. The snake''s venom could seriously injure John, so it could also hinder the magical beasts he was looking for.


    John coated his shortswords with the venom before sheathing them back, and then also removed the snake''s fangs as trophies.


    With everything done, John continued looking for tracks.


    ------


    By the sun''s position in the sky, John knew it was already noon.


    He had lit a fire close to a small lake he found. On a stick over the fire was some of the green snake''s meat. As that snake''s venom was stored only on its fangs, there was no need to worry.


    The reason John chose to rest here, was because there were hoof marks all over the ground around the lake, indicating that there had been a herd of deer here. The tracks were recently made, at most an hour before John arrived.


    Just from the tracks, he had no way to be sure if they were Wind Deers or just common ones, but he had to be ready for the second option.


    After cooking the snake''s meat over the fire, John ate his fill of it along with some berries he had found along the way. When done, he filled the satchel with water and began to follow the deer tracks.


    The tracks kept going north, and John followed it slowly, as to make less noise. Fortunately, he didn''t run into any other aggressive animal.


    After 2 hours, John finally had a line of sight of the herd of deer. There were around 30 of them, with most of them females.


    Instead of the usual dark red color with white spots, these deers were all grey, with the spots on their backs forming white lines.


    ''Wind Deers!'' John celebrated on the inside. That was much quicker than he expected.


    ''Now the tough part, to ambush one of them.''

 8 Fight Part 1

    John had to do it quickly, as right now the Wind Deers had stopped to graze on the grass. If they were on the move, it would be harder to set an ambush as he would need to predict which way they would go, and hide along the way before they got there.


    As with most herds of either common animals or magical beasts, not all of them were grazing, as there were three female Wind Deers (hinds) keeping watch for potential dangers. If they spotted John, the whole herd would be on alert, making it impossible for him to approach.


    John silently stalked his preys, moving from tree to tree and making use of the hinds'' blind spots to get closer. The 300 meters distance between them kept decreasing, but the closer he came, the harder it was to move undetected.


    While he took just a couple of minutes to go the first 100 meters, he needed 20 whole minutes to cross the last 100 meters. Not only he had to look for the hinds'' blind spots, but he also needed to watch each step for any dry leaves or twigs lying around. Fortunately, the Wind Deers hadn''t left yet.


    Right now, John was hiding behind a bush from where he could see the whole herd. The closest Wind Deer, was 5 meters away, which was too far for him to cover in a single dash, then it would have too much time to react.


    John kept thinking about what he should do.


    ''I could try throwing one of my swords, but that''s too risky, as its accuracy won''t be so good.''


    ''Maybe throw a rock towards the other side of the herd, and run towards the closest hind while they are distracted. No, they will notice me as soon as I leave the bush.''


    He kept considering before finally recalling something.


    ''The berries!''


    He still had some of the berries he foraged and ate for lunch inside his bag. Maybe he could use it to attract one of the Wind Deers.


    John took a handful of berries and stealthily put them on the grass in front of the bush, which was quite tough to do without alerting any of the Wind Deers. Whenever he had the chance he would put more berries on the ground to make it easier to see.


    He thought of rubbing the berries on his shortswords to spread the venom to the berries but quickly rejected the idea. Although he himself couldn''t smell the venom, it may not be the same for the Wind Deers.


    John kept crouching by the bushes, hoping that one of the Wind Deers would see the berries and come closer. But as the minutes passed, he was getting more and more anxious.


    ''Damm stupid Wind Deers, just look towards the berries already.''


    The hinds on watch kept their heads high, so they weren''t able to see the berries, while the ones that were grazing haven''t come close enough to see it amid the grass.


    ''Hmm?''


    One of the hinds who was previously grazing now had its head raised and looked towards the bush.


    No, it was looking at the berries on the ground.


    ''Finally. Now come closer so I can kill you.'' John thought, his eyes fixed on the hind that noticed the berries.


    John was in attack position with his left hand on the ground, and the right one at the grip of the shortsword on his back. As soon as the hind got in striking range, he would pounce with a single strike. If it didn''t die immediately, there was still the venom on the shortsword.


    The hind kept looking at the berries, not sure if it should approach when another Wind Deer noticed this. It was a size bigger than the others, besides having a pair of antlers on its head. That was the only male Wind Deer (stag) of this herd.


    The stag looked towards the hind then towards where it was looking and noticed the berries. The stag looked for a couple of seconds before finally deciding to approach.


    ''Yes, come towards the berries.'' John thought excitedly.


    Although any Wind Deer would do, a stag was certainly better than just a hind, as they were harder to kill.


    Step by step the stag approached the berries. John could feel his heart beating faster, he just wished the stag would also go faster.


    When the stag finally got into striking range, John didn''t immediately attack. He was waiting for it to lower its head, so he could go straight for the neck. With a wound like that, it would die even without the venom.


    The stag stood before the berries and looked around, looking for any potential danger. Not finding anything, it finally focused its attention on the berries.


    The stag lowered its head and began to eat the berries, the tip of its antlers almost touching the leaves of the bush.


    ''Now!'' John was about to attack but then...


    *Breeeee!!!*


    A high-pitched cry came from afar, and the stag raised its head.


    ''Dammit!'' John cursed internally before finally attacking. Although it wasn''t the best case scenario, if he waited any longer the Wind Deers may run away, then he simply wouldn''t know how long till he found them again.


    He put his other foot forward while unsheathing his shortsword and attacking downwards in a single motion, similar to the attack that killed the green snake.


    Noticing the danger ahead, the stag tried to move away, but it wasn''t able to dodge completely. The tip of the shortsword was still able to cut its neck, causing bright red blood to spurt out, but not enough to immediately kill it.


    The stag, along with the rest of the herd began running away from both John and from the direction of the high-pitched cry.


    In a split second, the stag was already 10 meters away from him, and it kept going. John could only hope the blood loss along with the venom would finish the stag off, before turning his attention towards the direction of the cry.


    The moment he heard it, he had an idea of what it could be, though he was too focused on the stag to pay it mind. Although his first time hearing it, he knew there was only one magical beast in this forest that produced this kind of high-pitched cry.


    The Great Boar.


    ------


    A black haired young man was running with all his forces. 20 meters behind, a Great Boar was chasing him, coming closer and closer.


    The Great Boar was 2.5 meters tall, had long white tusks and with each step it took, the earth would tremble a little.


    "Fucking hell!" Tom couldn''t believe his luck. He and his two brothers had just managed to rob a merchant cart and were escaping through the forest with the silver coins when they ran into the Great Boar.


    Although not a carnivore, the Great Boar was a highly aggressive and territorial species. When provoked, it could chase its enemy for tens of kilometers without giving up.


    When the Great Boar saw Tom and his brothers, it immediately charged towards them. The brothers scattered, and Tom was the one it decided to chase.


    Tom''s stamina was running out. He already had to fight during the previous robbery, which drained him quite a bit, and now with this chasing, he wouldn''t be able to last for long.


    While running, He took one of his throwing knives and threw it towards the Great Boar, but it got stuck on its skin, only serving to make it angrier.


    *Breeeee!!!*


    The Great Boar cried out and lowered its head, it''s tusks pointing at Tom''s back.


    "Damm beast!" He was about to lose all hope when finally he saw something ahead. Around 200 meters ahead of him stood a black boy in leather armor, holding two shortswords and looking towards him.


    "He-Help!" Tom called out. Although he didn''t believe the black boy could defeat the Great Boar, it probably could slow it down long enough for him to escape.

 9 Fight Part 2

    John stood his ground while gazing at Great Boar that was getting closer and closer. He could have run away as soon as he finished ambushing the stag, but he wished to test himself against the Great Boar.


    Although the Great Boar was quite dangerous in close combat, its speed was just average, while its agility was quite low. If the man being chased ran in a zig-zag, while putting trees between himself and the Great Boar, he could escape with relative ease.


    In John''s eyes, the man either didn''t know that or was too scared to think straight. Either way, John wouldn''t let him die without trying to help.


    "Keep running towards me!" John ordered the man.


    It would be impossible for him to beat the Great Boar in a contest of strength. Fortunately, his combat style was focused exactly on the magical beast''s main weakness; mobility.


    The man kept running until finally, he passed by John, while the Great Boar was coming behind.


    John sidestepped away from its path while slashing with both swords towards its hind leg, which wasn''t that hard given that the Great Boar was completely focused on the other human.


    Although its skin was quite thick, John''s attack still managed to cut through it, along with some of its muscles, leaving two bloody gashes.


    *Breeeeee!!!* The Great Boar gave another high-pitched cry before stopping its charge.


    Even when hit by the other human''s knives, it hadn''t got hurt, so now it was naturally angry. Ignoring the other human who was now hidden behind a tree, it turned towards John, its black eyes focused on this little human who dared to hurt it.


    John stood still, looking back at the Great Boar. His first strike was aimed at the magical beast''s leg to lower even more its mobility.


    Although slashing at its belly could cause more damage, it still wouldn''t be able to kill the Great Boar, and it would take some time until the blood loss and the venom began to affect it.


    One single strike from it would be enough to seriously injure John, so he needed a more immediate solution.


    "Come on you dumb pig, I''ll make pork chops out of you!" John yelled towards the Great Boar.


    Although it couldn''t understand what he was saying, seeing John yelling towards it angered the Great Boar even more.


    *Breeee!!!* With another cry, the Great Boar began its charge, its long tusks pointed at John.


    His strategy remained the same, as he couldn''t afford to get hit even once. With a roll, John dodged the tusks pointed at him, and once again managed to slash at its legs, though the wounds this time weren''t as deep as the first ones.


    *Breeee!* The Great Boar cried in pain. It turned a 180 and tried headbutting him, but it was simply too slow compared to the nimble John.


    Jumping backward, John got out of the attack range, and the Great Boar simply hit the air.


    Taking advantage of the opening, John darted forward while stabbing towards its eye.


    Sensing the danger, the Great Boar raised its head, and the two shortswords pierced through its cheek.


    John quickly removed the shortswords and once again jumped backward, avoiding the second headbutt and preparing to once again attack...


    ------


    ''Damn, that beast bait is quick, the Great Boar hasn''t hit him once.'' Tom was astounded by what he was seeing.


    Hiding behind a tree, he watched as the black boy was able to keep dodging the Great Boar''s attacks, while continuously injuring it.


    ''He is only a level 4 Fighter, how can he be so powerful?''


    Tom himself was a level 3 Fighter, but even if he was also at level 4 he wouldn''t be able to move like John did.


    ''At this rate, he may very well kill the Great Boar by himself, and obtain its tusks. It''s tusks...'' Tom thought about how much silver he could get for those and his eyes began to shine.


    ''He may not be taking any damage, but he''s still having to dodge left and right while keeping attacking. Even if he wins, he will be exhausted, then I doubt he will be able to defend against a sneak attack.''


    Silently, he picked up his throwing knives and prepared for the end of the fight.


    All the while, neither John, tom or the Great Boar noticed the shadows raising slightly above the ground around the battlefield.


    ------


    "Haaa... Haaa... Haaa..."


    John was breathing heavily, beads of sweat running down his face and dripping on the ground.


    His shortswords were pointed downwards and dripping with the magical beast''s blood. The snake''s venom coating having run out long ago.


    Similarly, his head was also down, but his eyes were focused on the prey ahead.


    That''s right, prey. John no longer had any doubt about his victory, as it was just a matter of time now.


    The Great Boar was full of slash wounds all over its giant body, with blood dripping out of them.


    As if the blood loss wasn''t enough, the snake''s venom was showing its effects, with the Great Boar losing even more control of its legs and face muscles.


    "Haaa... time to end this..." John lightly muttered before raising his head, the shortswords the following suit.


    *Guuu...* *Guuu...*


    The Great Boar was on its last legs, it knew it didn''t have much chance of winning. Even so, it wouldn''t give up while it still could fight.


    With all the forces it had left, the Great Boar began charging towards John, although it wasn''t able to reach even half its normal speed.


    John was slightly crouched, waiting to deliver the last blow. He held the shortsword on his right hand, while the other one was back at the sheath.


    The Great Boar kept approaching. 10 meters... 7 meters... 5 meters...


    When it crossed the 3 meters mark, John finally made his move. Taking impulse, John jumped up towards the back of the Great Boar. With his level 4 Fighter cultivation, he was barely able to make the 2.5 meters jump.


    Landing on its back, he used his left hand to hold onto the hairs of the Great Boar while the magical beast tried, to no avail, to throw him off.


    Holding the shortsword with a reverse grip, he stabbed down at its neck, causing blood to flow out.


    *Breeee!!!*


    "Dammit!" John cursed. The stab was aimed at the spinal cord, but with all the shaking, he ended up missing. The wound he just did wouldn''t be able to kill it immediately.


    Even close to death, the magical beast continued trying to shake him off. Holding onto the shortsword with his right hand, he drew the other shortsword and once again stabbed down, with even more strength. This time, he didn''t miss.


    *Breeeee....*


    The Great Boar gave one last high pitched cry before collapsing to the side. It was dead.


    "Haaa... Haaa... Haaa..." John kept breathing heavily.


    He had rolled away to avoid getting crushed by the Great Boar''s body and was now kneeling on all fours, not even bothering to retrieve his weapons.


    "Haha, hahaha." John laughed a bit while looking at the beast''s body to his side.


    Although exhausted, he was also quite ecstatic.


    ''That''s a Great Boar, and I was able to kill it by myself.''


    With this, even if he doesn''t manage to find the stag''s body, he will still have completed his hunt.


    John took a few minutes to take his breath, before finally getting off the ground. He still had to retrieve his shortswords along with the Great Boar''s tusks.


    *Swish!*


    But as soon as he got up, there was the sound of something sharp being thrown towards him.


    ------


    Tom was behind a tree. He had his throwing knives in hand while watching the end of the fight.


    He saw the black boy jump on the back of the Great Boar and stab each sword on its neck. In the end, the magical beast died and the black boy rolled to the side.


    ''C''mon bait, get up!'' Tom was anxious. His plan was to attack as soon as the Great Boar died, but now its body was blocking his view.


    Right now, Tom could only wait, as he wasn''t sure he could kill the black boy in direct combat, even with he being quite tired, neither could he move, as it would alert the black boy to his presence.


    The minutes seemed to drag on, and there was still nothing. He was starting to get impatient when finally, there was the sound of movement coming from behind the Great Boar''s body.


    He could see the black boy getting up from the ground, so he immediately threw one of his knives.


    ------


    The knife was coming fast towards John''s chest.


    Normally, he could easily dodge such an attack, but he simply wasn''t prepared for this, so he didn''t dodge well.


    He sidestepped to the right a little too late, and the knife pierced through the leather armor and lodged onto his shoulder.


    John quickly crouched down behind the Great Boar''s body, avoiding the second knife coming towards him.


    "What the hell are you doing!?"

 10 Kill!

    "What the hell are you doing!?" John couldn''t help but scream out.


    While he was crouching down to dodge the second knife, he was able to look at the assailant and recognized him as the man he had just saved from the Great Boar.


    He thought the man had run far away already. Not only this proved wrong, instead of thanking John, the man sneak attacked him, which naturally made John both angry and confused.


    "Shut up you damn beast bait, who do you think you''re talking to?" Tom screamed back as he put away the throwing knives and unsheathed his sword. Now that John was prepared against him, he knew there would be little chance of hitting the boy with another sneak attack.


    Tom was able to recover a bit during the fight, while the boy not only was much more tired, as he also just got wounded. In his eyes, there was no way for the boy to defeat him.


    John was already angry, anger which increased even more after the man called him ''beast bait''. John knew this term.


    When hunting aggressive magical beasts, some nobles would use slaves, most likely southern children, as bait to lure the magical beasts. It was common for the slaves to die or get gravely wounded, which really wasn''t that different to death for a slave, as they rarely received medical assistance.


    Hearing the man''s footsteps approaching, he knew he''d have to fight it out.


    "Uggh." John lightly groaned while removing the throwing knife from his shoulder. Although painful, the wound wouldn''t stop him from using his left arm.


    Now he had to retrieve his shortswords. He was able to pull the first one with a bit of effort, but the second one, the one that killed the Great Boar, barely budged.


    In the heat of battle, John used too much force at his last strike, which caused the shortsword to get stuck. Although talented, he was simply too inexperienced at real combat and made such a rookie mistake.


    There was no time for him to keep pulling it, as the man was just a few meters away. John wielded the first shortsword with his right hand, and on his left, he took the throwing knife as an improvised dagger.


    "You still plan on fighting?" Tom asked with a sneer. "Look at yourself, you couldn''t even pull your other weapon."


    "Bastard, I just saved you, and this is how you pay me back? What kind of man are you?" John spoke with a belly full of anger.


    "So what if I did attack you? You''re nothing boy. I don''t know how you''re so good with those swords, but it doesn''t matter, as you''ll die here!"


    With that, Tom attacked, his sword slashing down towards John''s head who immediately parried with his shortsword, and thrust forward with the dagger towards his enemy''s chest.


    Unfortunately, as he wasn''t used to the difference in range, the dagger was barely able to touch Tom''s armor, who stepped back as soon as he felt the dagger touch him.


    "Is this all you got? Pathetic!" John taunted.


    "Hmph!" Tom snorted before attacking once again. This time he made a horizontal slash which hit nothing as John ducked. Making use of the opening, he slashed at Tom''s left leg, drawing blood in the process.


    Not wasting time, he quickly jumped back to avoid the counterattack.


    ''Damn it, how is he still able to fight back?'' Tom was beginning to worry. This wasn''t how he expected it to go. In his plan, the boy should be dead already.


    Tom continued his series of attacks, but he wasn''t able to hit even once.


    "Didn''t you say I would die here? Because it''s looking quite the opposite." John continued his taunting in between attacks.


    "No wonder you had to sneak attack me. You''re nothing but a weak rat."


    "No, even a rat is able to bite back. You''re nothing!"


    "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Tom finally snapped and began attacking non-stop.


    Although he wasn''t very experienced in combat, his attacks up until now still had some technique behind them. Now, he was simply swinging his weapon left and right, obviously full of openings.


    Openings such as slashing downwards with all his strength.


    ''Now!'' John sidestepped to the left, avoiding the downwards slash, and with the shortsword on the right hand, slashed back at Tom''s wrist.


    "Aaaaaargh!!!" Tom cried in pain. It was a clean cut and his hand fell to the ground, along with his sword, spraying the grass with blood.


    "No¡­ No, stay back! Stay back, you demon!" Tom started walking backward while holding his forearm to stop the bleeding.


    Unfortunately for him, John wouldn''t let him escape.


    "Don''t even think of running away you bastard." John spoke full of hate while walking towards Tom. If he hadn''t been able to win, he would have died today, so naturally John wouldn''t forgive the man.


    Tom tried to turn and run, but John was already prepared and slashed at his hamstring, causing him to fall down.


    Taking advantage of this, John got on top of the man, knees pressing down on his arms, preventing him from fighting back.


    "Pl-Please don''t..." Tom begged, but it was in vain.


    "Now you want to beg?" John said on top of the man while holding the throwing knife he used to sneak attack John, his shortsword thrown to the side. His anger still hadn''t subsided, and it only got worse as he thought about how this man tried to kill him for no reason.


    *Bam!* John punched the man hard on the mouth, breaking off some of his teeth.


    "Bastard, I should have let the Great Boar kill you. Just be glad that I won''t use you as beast bait!"


    "No-"


    Ignoring the man''s pleading, John used all of his strength to drive the knife into his chest.


    "Aaaaahhh...." Tom emitted one last sound before his eyes lost focus. He was dead.


    John stared at Tom''s now lifeless eyes. He had never been so angry before, never hated someone so much¡­ or did he?


    Looking at the dead man with a knife plunged at his chest, John couldn''t help but think about his vision from a few years ago. About how he ruthlessly killed that old man, similarly driving a knife through his chest.


    ''That old man¡­ who was he?''


    Losing track of his surroundings, John was in a trance similar to when he experienced the body awakening and entered the Warrior path.


    Without him noticing, the shadows that had risen above the ground silently went back to normal.


    ------


    100 meters away, was a tall, black woman dressed in leather armor and two shortswords strapped to her back.


    After seeing her son defeat the Great Boar and kill the man, Dene finally calmed down and canceled her spell.


    Although she ordered John to take the trial following the now extinct tribe''s custom, as a mother, she couldn''t feel safe sending her only child alone into the world. Therefore, she followed him from afar, watching his performance in this hunt.


    Overall, she was quite satisfied. Her son was able to deal with the snake easily and had the ingenuity to use its venom to aid in the hunt.


    He had some luck in finding Wind Deer tracks quite early, and the patience to follow it slowly.


    When reaching the herd, he planned well and fatally injured the stag, though he would''ve killed it immediately not for the Great Boar interruption.


    It was against it that, in her eyes, her son began to slip up. Ignoring when he got his sword stuck, there shouldn''t even have been a battle, to begin with.


    In his place, Dene would''ve allowed the magical beast to kill the human, and then take advantage of its distraction to jump on its back and kill the Great Boar.


    Not only it would''ve been easier to do this, but he would also not have been ambushed later on.


    Originally from a southern tribe, she had no sympathy for anyone from the kingdoms, other than John''s father, as it were northerners who invaded her lands and destroyed her tribe.


    But in the end, her son was able to defeat the man and didn''t make the mistake of sparing him. John didn''t get any serious wound, and this should serve as experience for the boy''s future when he no longer has her to help.


    She didn''t want her son to depend on anyone, for him to be capable of dealing with any danger by himself.


    ''All ended well, and it should be easier for him to advance as a Warrior after these battles. I just hope he doesn''t struggle too much for killing the man.''


    Dene herself had been through various battles on the last days of her tribe, even killing her first enemy in one of these battles. She knew that killing a person was much different than killing a magical beast.


    John was angry during the battle, both for the man''s ambush and for calling him beast bait, but after the anger passed, there would come remorse. This was a normal reaction, but to be capable of surviving in this world, he must learn how to ignore it.


    ''Hmm? Why is he frozen like that?''


    She was expecting him to start trembling, maybe even crying, but strangely he wasn''t doing anything.


    ''He must be in a state of shock... wait, the mana around him. It''s moving!''


    As an Archmage, Dene could feel the mana moving. On the other hand, John was not even a Mage, so he shouldn''t be capable of casting a spell.


    ''He must be absorbing the mana and quite quickly, which means¡­'' Dene showed an expression of surprise, then joy.


    "A mind awakening!"

 11 Memories

    A mind awakening was different from a body awakening. Although John passed out after the latter, that was an exception as most would only feel physically exhausted from it.


    On the other hand, mind awakenings would usually cause a deep sleep afterward, with some even entering in a comma. Only in some rare cases does someone manages to retain their consciousness after it.


    Without thinking twice, Dene immediately recast her spell, completely encircling her son''s location. She would kill any creature that came close to him.


    ------


    "...see your point. As for myself, the single piece of art that touched me the most¡­"


    "...Lucas Smith. I''m sorry for the auction, but I collect antique watches like that one..."


    "Verich, tonight I''ll kill you!"


    "ha¡­ ha¡­ Get up!"


    It was like a movie was going through his head. At first, he saw himself attending some sort of auction, with the intent of killing that same old man from his first vision.


    Then, it started going backward, until his first memories. John saw himself holding his little brother as he tried not to cry at their parents funeral.


    The days at the orphanage as he took care of his little brother while trying to keep up with school. The day he finally graduated from high school. The day he decided to enlist in the army. John remembered how afraid he was at the time, not of dying, but of leaving Lucas alone.


    Slowly, his memories from the past life began to come back.


    ------


    "Alpha-2, Tangos approaching your position. Repeat, Tangos approaching your position." John informed over the radio as he saw two guards approaching the parked cars.


    "Roger, I see them." His subordinate answered back.


    It was close to midnight, he and his squad were on a mission to capture a weapons dealer who might have information on a terrorist group acting in the region.


    John and a Soldier were hiding behind some trees while the other two were behind the parked cars.


    "Wait for my signal Alpha-2. Wait for it. Now!" He ordered, and the two soldiers popped out, two muzzle flashes from each silenced rifle and the guards were dead.


    "Tangos down, good job. Now head towards the front entrance and we''ll hit the back."


    "Roger."


    The squad got in position on both entrances, one man on each side of the doors.


    "Remember, the target is bald, we must capture him alive. Throw a flashbang in and we''ll start."


    "Yes, Sir."


    There were two men in the living room, watching television, while a third one was getting something from the fridge.


    One of the soldiers at the entrance kicked in the door while the other threw in the flashbang.


    *BOOM!* the flashbang went out and they coordinately went in.


    "Freeze!" "Freeze!" "Everyone on the ground!"


    The man at the kitchen was too far from the explosion and didn''t get disoriented. He tried to reach for his handgun but was shot down by John.


    The men in the living room weren''t armed and still disoriented so they were promptly secured. One of the two was bald.


    "Living room clear. Possible target secured."


    "Kitchen clear."


    "Bathroom clear."


    "Bedroom clear."


    After checking the whole house, the squad headed back to the living room, where John took a look at the bald man and confirmed that he was the one.


    "That''s our target, grab the two of them and let''s go."


    "Yes, Sir."


    ------


    "Now listen up men. First of all, I would like to welcome you to The Farm." An instructor spoke to a class of 10 men, John among them. "Each of you was handpicked because you''re the best of the best, but being a field operative for The Company is not like your previous occupations, and it DEFINITELY isn''t like in the films."


    "You''re not going to be sent undercover into an enemy base to recover missile codes, the villain won''t tie you to a table and threaten to cut you with a laser after your cover is blown, and by the end, you won''t be relaxing by the beach with some big titted blonde."


    "You will be sent undercover most likely to foreign cities, if your cover is blown then the bad guys will put a bullet in your head, and by the end, you''ll write reports of all your activities."


    "And I''m serious about those reports. If you eat a sandwich you''ll write down how much you spent on it, how long it took you to eat said sandwich and at what time you digested it and flushed it down the toilet."


    "During missions, your most important skill is knowing how to blend in. And if by any reason you find yourself in a fight, then remember this: You''re not supposed to fight fair, you''re supposed to win."


    "Punch the back of their heads, kick them in the balls, and don''t be afraid to hit a woman if you have to. They may look weak, but they can shoot a gun like any man."


    John spent half a year learning the tradecraft at The Farm before finally graduating.


    ------


    Noon, at a US Army camp in the middle east


    "I want to talk to the prisoner." John spoke to the guard at the gate to the prison cells. In his hands, he was carrying a paper bag with grease stains on it.


    "Yes, Sir." Answered the guard.


    John walked through a small corridor with prison cells on both sides, though most of them were empty. He didn''t have to walk for too long before reaching his destination.


    Inside a cell to his left, laying in bed was an Arabic man in his late twenties.


    "Asif." John called out.


    "American." Coldly spoke the man as he sat up. "I already told your friends, I will not talk."


    "And what will you do Asif? Look around, look at what you put yourself into¡­ here, eat it." John said as he reached inside the cell and handed the paper bag.


    Asif eyed John suspiciously to which he responded, "It''s without bacon, don''t worry."


    "You plan on buying me with a cheap hamburger?"


    "I plan on helping you see reason. You have two children, and your wife is expecting. How is she going to take care of them without you? Your parents are old, who will take care of them? And they all are dying with worry for you."


    "But I can help you. You want your children educated?, I''ll get them educated. You worried about your parents?, I''ll make sure they are taken care of. I can even allow them to visit you."


    "Let me help you Asif. Let''s work to do something about this terrible situation, that as I said before; you put yourself into."


    "..."


    "Look, I''ll let you think about it. Eat your food, rest, and when you''re ready to talk you can call for me."


    John turned around to leave, but as soon as he reached the gate¡­


    "Wait!" Asif grabbed the prison bars as he called. "I''ll talk."


    ------


    *Click!* John turned the key to his apartment, over the shoulder he carried his small luggage and a shopping bag on his other hand. Compared to when he left, his skin was a shade darker, except for around his eyes, which was caused by the sunglasses.


    "Haaaa..." He exhaled heavily as he entered the apartment and threw his luggage over the sofa, not even bothering to remove the plastic cover. After a 3 months mission in the desert and a 15 hours flight, he was finally back home.


    Heading towards the kitchen, he placed the shopping bag inside the fridge, except for a cup of pudding which he planned to eat immediately. He still had to call his little brother, though he figured it could wait a few minutes.


    Getting himself a spoon, he went back to the living room and sat in his armchair.


    "Finally I can rest." John spoke to himself with a spoonful of pudding in hand when...


    *Riiiing!* *Riiiing!* As if to play a prank on him, the telephone began to ring.


    "Urrrgh, for fuck''s sake." He cursed out loud, wishing that whoever was calling would get hit by lightning or something similar, before getting up towards the phone.


    "Gulp...hello?"


    "Hello, could I speak to Staff Sergeant John Freeman?"


    "That''s him, what''s this about?"


    "Mr. John, we''ve been trying to reach for a week now to talk about Staff Sergeant Lucas Freeman."


    "Gulp¡­ that''s my brother, what about him?" He asked while continuing to eat his dessert, too tired to notice anything of strange.


    "We''re sorry to inform that Staff Sergeant Lucas Freeman has been killed in acti..."


    *Bam* sounded the cup as it fell to the floor, though John didn''t even hear it as his head went blank.


    ------


    While it felt like decades, in reality only a few seconds went by. In the end, just like during his body awakening, John passed out, his body falling over Tom''s dead one.

 12 Waking up

    *Bzzz* *Bzzz*


    "..."


    *Bzzzz* *Bzzz* *Bzzzzz*


    "Hmm?"


    John woke up to the annoying sound of flies buzzing around and a rotten smell in the air. Opening his eyes, he found the source of the smell being Tom''s dead body.


    "Urgh." He groaned before getting up.


    "What the hell. Where am I? Wait..." It took a few seconds for his memories to fully get in sync.


    ''That''s right, I died and was reincarnated.'' He recalled his conversation with the old man who called himself Chronos.


    To John, it all seemed much harder to believe now that he was calmer, as at the time he was about to die and not in his right state of mind, but he simply couldn''t argue with the facts.


    Just looking to the side, there was the body of a gigantic boar. ''Wait, what was it called¡­ oh, that''s right, a Great Boar.'' In his memories, he was able to kill such a massive thing with just two shortswords.


    Besides this, he still had the knowledge about mana and spells and something called cultivation. He couldn''t help but think it had something to do with agriculture.


    Looking back down at the dead body, he recalled the ambush and fight he had and was impressed with himself.


    ''Even without my training from my past life, I was still able to make use of psychological attacks and cause him to abandon reason, making it much easier to kill him. Not bad for a 10-year-old...'' It was then that it finally dawned on him.


    John used his hands to feel around his face. There were no hairs. He checked the forearms, his legs, even inside his pants, and it was the same. There were no hairs anywhere. He really was only 10 years old in this world. A child.


    John had grown up in a mostly civilized environment and although he had been trained to kill, that was as an adult. He couldn''t help but find it wrong that a child was fighting and killing.


    ''I must be careful, this world is much more dangerous than my previous one.'' He thought and began to move.


    He first had to take a look at his wound, caused by Tom''s throwing knife. Pushing the armor to the side, he saw that the wound wasn''t too deep, with the leather armor stopping most of the blow. It would heal on its own as long as he didn''t move around too much.


    After this, he checked his left hand that had been hurting since he woke up. He easily found the reason, as there was something pierced in it, with only the end sticking out. Pulling it out, he found out what it was. A tooth, which must be from when he punched Tom in the mouth.


    John flicked it away and the went to retrieve his weapons. The first one was by Tom''s side, but the other was still stuck on the Great Boar. Now rested, he was able to pull it away with some effort. He wiped both and sheathed then back.


    Now he would remove the tusks from the Great Boar, check for anything useful on Tom''s body and leave. Besides the hunger and the thirst, he also couldn''t shake the feeling that there was someone watching him.


    ------


    Dene watched her son wake up and once again canceled her spell. She had dark circles under her eyes, both from the lack of sleep and for keeping the spell for so long.


    Although no Magical Beast had come close, she still wouldn''t risk it.


    But despite her tiredness, she was still happy. She sent her son to the hunt in order for him to get more combat experience. Not only the goal was achieved, but he was also able to have a mind awakening earlier, becoming a level 1 mage.


    ''Now that he''s up and rested, I guess I can send in a slightly harder challenge.'' She looked back towards the direction the Great Boar had come from.


    ------


    Fallen branches, trampled ground and some broken trees.


    Two black haired men, one big and the other small, were walking through the forest, slowly following the signs of destruction.


    "Wouldn''t it be better to wait for him back at the town?" The small man asked. "What if we run into the Great Boar again?"


    "And what if he isn''t able to come back?" The other man asked back. "He was the one carrying the coins, if he dies then we''ll get nothing. Now shut up, we don''t want that Beast to hear us."


    The duo kept going forward, always paying attention for any sign of the Great Boar when they saw someone coming towards them from the direction of the tracks.


    The person wore a leather armor that covered their whole body, but judging by their figure, the duo figured it was a woman. She also had a hood and a mask that completely covered her face and hair coupled with two shortswords strapped to her back.


    Both of the men were only level 3 Fighters, but they couldn''t sense the woman''s level, which meant she was at least a level 5 Fighter, maybe even higher.


    Warriors are able to sense other Warriors levels, as long as they''re at most one level higher. Spellcasters, on the other hand, can sense the Warriors levels as long as they have the same relative rank.


    This means that any Mage can know the exact level of any Fighter, Archmages the level of Crusaders and so forth.


    Similarly, Spellcasters are only able to sense the level of Spellcasters of the same rank.


    "Good afternoon Ma''am." The big man spoke. He didn''t know how strong this woman was, so he thought it better to be respectful.


    "Hmm." Dene simply nodded back before asking. "Are you looking for the Great Boar that came through here?"


    "Ah, yes Ma''am. Have you perhaps seen it?"


    "I did see it, though the Beast seemed to be dead already."


    "Really?" This time it was the small man who asked. "Was there a black haired man with throwing knives and a sword close to it? He is a bit younger than us and-"


    The big man stopped his brother from talking when he noticed the woman''s glare.


    "Pl-please forgive my brother Ma''am, its just that we''re both very worried about our third brother, please don''t take offense."


    "Hmph." Dene snorted before she continued to walk, ignoring the duo.


    The brothers didn''t dare to speak until they could no longer see the woman.


    "Do you think she spoke the truth? That the Great Boar is dead?" The small man asked in a low voice.


    "It must be, she had no reason to lie to us. And if she wanted to hurt us, I don''t think we could stop her. Let''s hurry and go."


    With that, the brothers started running towards the Great Boar, without noticing Dene following behind.


    ------


    By the sun''s position in the sky, coupled with the rigor mortis on Tom''s body, John figured he had slept for a whole day.


    Right now he was checking Tom''s body and in his bag, he already had the Great Boar''s tusks which meant he could go back home and finish his trial.


    But first, he wanted to search the body. The first thing he noticed was the sword, that had fallen when he cut Tom''s hand. Unfortunately, it was too big for his fighting style, and it didn''t seem too valuable so he decided to leave it.


    The same for the throwing knives. Although he had improvised one as a dagger, it wasn''t as good as wielding his shortswords.


    Before that battle, the only weapons he had ever used in this life were his pair of shortswords. And in his past one, he was trained to mainly use guns, with a few lessons on close quarters combat.


    He would be at most average with these throwing knives, even worse than Tom himself.


    As the weapons wouldn''t do, he began to look for anything else of value.


    *Chink* John was feeling around Tom''s chest when he heard the chink of metal touching metal. Searching inside the man''s armor, he found the source of the sound as a pouch containing some coins.


    There were 3 silver coins and almost 50 copper ones.


    He looked around some more, but there was nothing else of value. John was about to store the pouch in his bag and leave when he heard a sound coming from afar. It sounded like footsteps.


    He waited to see what it was and finally saw two men coming, one big and the other small. They both had black hair. The big one carried a greatsword smeared with dry blood while the small one had a battle axe.


    John found the duo strangely familiar until finally realizing why. Looking down at Tom''s face, it was quite similar to the men coming towards him. It wasn''t hard to deduce that they must be related.


    ''Ah, great.'' John stored the pouch in his bag before drawing his weapons.

 13 1 vs 2

    "Tom!" The small man screamed and tried to run towards the body, but was stopped by his brother.


    Different from his brother, the big man''s eyes were on the black boy standing over Tom''s body.


    "Who are you boy?" The big man asked.


    "I''m John." He answered shortly.


    "John, was it you that killed our brother?"


    The black boy pointed towards the body of the Great Board "I saved your brother''s life from the Great Boar, but not only he didn''t thank me, he tried to ambush me afterward."


    "Says you!" The small man yelled at John. "Who knows if you''re telling the truth. It must have been you who ambushed Tom."


    "Believe what you want, I''m done here." John turned to leave¡­


    "Wait!"


    ¡­ but was immediately stopped by the big man.


    "What, you want to fight it out?" John stared at the big man, as he seemed to be the one giving the orders.


    The big man stared back for a few seconds before finally saying. "You can go, but leave the pouch you took from Tom''s body."


    "What!?" The small man couldn''t believe what he heard. "You can''t be serious Matt, that monkey killed Tom!"


    "Shut up Henry!" The big man Matt yelled at his brother before turning back to John. "What do you say, boy?"


    "I told you already, your brother attacked me. Whatever I took from him belongs to me now." Even if he had to fight against the two brothers, John simply wouldn''t give in.


    Matt once again stared at John and then looked towards the Great Boar''s body. It took him a few seconds, but he finally made his decision.


    Turning back to John, he spoke. "You really are a stupid little monkey. Let''s do it, Henry!"


    "Finally!" Said the small man Henry. He didn''t care about who ambushed who, he wanted to kill that black boy for taking his brother''s life.


    With the battle axe in hands, Henry ran towards John, while Matt approached by the side, intending to flank.


    John immediately noticed the brother''s plan and began moving around to put one brother in the way of the other. The most important when fighting multiple opponents in an open environment is to keep moving.


    Even though he was one level higher than the two of them, it was still too dangerous to fight both at the same time.


    "Get out of the way."


    "Dammit, move around him.."


    Making use of the confusion, John began his attacks. He focused on the Henry brother as he was the closest one.


    John slashed with one shortsword to which Henry barely managed to block with the battle axe handle. Unfortunately for him, John still had another weapon.


    With his other shortsword, he thrust towards the man''s chest.


    Reacting a moment too late, Henry tried to dodge causing the attack to pierce his arm.


    If this was a one versus one battle, John would immediately follow up and kill the man, but there was still the other brother with the greatsword.


    Jumping backward, John watched as the brothers stood side by side.


    "Are you okay?" Matt asked Henry.


    "Yeah, but I can''t use my arm anymore."


    "Alright, we must stay together. Can''t allow him to fight one of us alone."


    After this first clash, the brothers finally realized how dangerous the black boy in front of them was.


    John kept moving around the brothers, attacking whenever he had a chance. His main target kept being the Henry brother who was already injured and couldn''t wield his weapon as well as before.


    After dodging the battle axe coming downwards, John attacked Henry''s already injured arm.


    "Henry!" Matt tried to help his brother, but that was John was hoping for.


    ''Now!'' First ducking to avoid the greatsword attack, he changed his target to the Matt brother, catching him off guard.


    The big man attempted to block but was too slow to put his weapon back in position. The shortsword cut through the side of his abdomen causing blood to fly out.


    "Aaargh!" The man screamed and dropped his weapon. Placing his hands over the wound, he futilely tried to stop the bleeding. Without a healer, he wouldn''t last more than a few minutes.


    "Its over." John declared.


    "Wait!" The big man pleaded. "Yo-you won¡­ just let things go..."


    "Let things go? So that your brother can come after me later?"


    After things had come this far, John knew that the safest thing to do was to kill both of them. The big man was no longer a threat, so he once again focused on the small man Henry.


    "Shit, run Henry!" Matt yelled while trying to block. If he was going to die, then he at least wanted to give his brother a chance to live.


    Dropping his weapon, the small man Henry began to run away.


    "No, you won''t!" First, John had to deal with the big man blocking his path.


    Knowing he was about to die, Matt tried to grab John, but it didn''t work. Easily dodging to the side, John slashed at the big man''s neck before chasing the other one. Although the attack didn''t remove the head, he knew that the man would die shortly now.


    Although he lost a couple seconds dealing with the big one, John didn''t lose track of the last of the brothers. Dropping his bag with the Great Boar''s tusks to lighten the weight, he was chasing the small man down.


    Initially, at 10 meters the distance between the two kept shrinking. Not surprising given that John was both a level higher and also much lighter than him.


    "Help! Someone help me!" Henry screamed but there was no one to hear it.


    The 10 meters became 7, and then 4 and finally 1.


    ''Now!'' At this range, he could attack. John slashed down at the small man''s back, injuring and causing to fall forward.


    Not giving up, he tried to kick back but it was useless. John quickly avoided the blow and used the chance to climb on his back, then easily managing to pierce his neck.


    Henry twitched for a couple of seconds before finally dying, his eyes still open


    "Haa¡­ it''s over." John spoke, panting a little.


    ------


    ''Its already over...''


    Watching the end of the fight, Dene couldn''t help but be surprised.


    Although the duo was a level lower than her son, it was still a 1 vs 2 fight. She believed it would be at least as hard as the fight against the Great Boar, but it ended so quickly...


    If it wasn''t enough, the boy didn''t even hesitate when the brothers tried to stop the fight and easily killed them both.


    ''But that''s good too. I don''t know what happened, but he seems to have learned a lot after his fights yesterday.'' Dene thought, on her face a smile.


    ------


    After killing the last brother, John repeated his actions from before.


    First, he cleaned his weapons. The blood could cause them to rust and become less sharp. After it was done, he turned his attention to the bodies, looking for anything of value.


    ''Nothing.''


    Unfortunately, none of their weapons seemed especially valuable, nor did they carry any coin like the first brother.


    ''Guess this is it then.''


    As there was nothing more here, John grabbed his bag that he dropped while chasing the last brother and left.


    He would see if he could find the Wind Deer''s body and then go back home to finish the trial.''

 14 Going back

    John followed the tracks and trail of dry blood left by the Wind Deer stag. Compared to yesterday when entering the forest, he was a bit more relaxed. That''s because after experiencing the mind awakening, his senses became a little bit stronger.


    Walking a little more than a kilometer, he finally found the stag''s body. It seemed untouched, save for the fatal wound at its neck caused by John. There were tracks belonging to the rest of the Herd pointing north, but as he already got the stag''s body, he no longer cared about them.


    With a little bit of effort, he managed to remove the antlers. Although not a professional, it was good enough.


    But now he had a problem; how to take them back. His bag was already full, and if he carried them around in the open, he was afraid of someone trying to rob him. He had killed the brothers, but they were all just level 3 Fighters. Against someone stronger, he may not be able to resist.


    John considered for a few moments before finally deciding. Spending close to an hour, he skinned the Wind Deer and used it to wrap the antlers, with the fur inwards. Finished, he threw it over the shoulder and went his way.


    After another hour John reached the small lake where he first found tracks of the Wind Deers herd. Stopping for a brief rest, he first refilled his water satchel and then foraged around for some fruits. Having taken care of both hunger and thirst, John was about to leave when he remembered something.


    Heading to the edge of the lake, he gazed at his own reflection, but the water was too murky to discern anything. All he knew was that he was a child, and by touching his head, knew his hair was cut quite short, almost shaved bald.


    The reason for this were the customs of the Yao tribe, where only by completing the trial was someone considered an adult and allowed to grow their hair.


    Once again throwing the antlers over his shoulder, John made his way to the road and from there towards his home.


    Along the way, he couldn''t help to admire the view. Tall trees on each side of the road, the random sunray that manages to pass by the lush branches coupled with happy chirps from birds.


    ''How beautiful.'' Experiencing the calm environments from the forest, John had to reconsider his previous judgment. ''Maybe they aren''t so different after all. Just like Earth, this world has both violence and peacefulness.''


    As civilization evolved, Earth as a whole became more and more peaceful, despite lots of accidents along the way.


    And although he made his career fighting as a soldier and then a spy, he grew up in a peaceful environment, be it with his parents or in the orphanage with his brother Lucas.


    ''Sword fighting, leather armors, and dukedoms. At first glance, this world resembles medieval Europe, but then there are also things like mana, spells and magical beasts...''


    John looked at his own hands, clenching and opening them.


    ''...and then, there''s this cultivation thing.''


    He recalled his fight against the two brothers and the strength he was able to display.


    ''I''m only 10 years old, but I feel even stronger than in my past life. My speed when chasing the last brother¡­ no, even before that; The Great Boar was almost one story tall, but I managed to jump on top of it and this is only the fourth level of Fighter realm. I can''t even imagine how strong I may become if I reach the Crusader realm...''


    ''...no! Not IF, but WHEN. I''ll keep training and find out by myself.'' With a smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes, John picked up the pace.


    ------


    After exiting the forest, the feeling of being watched finally disappeared, causing John to breathe a sigh of relief. The walk back from there on was as calm as before, with John passing by the occasional farmer from time to time.


    When John approached Greenflower town, the sun was already setting, coloring the whole world with a beautiful orange color. But instead of following the main road towards the town, he took a right through a small trail.


    The trail continued for a few minutes through some woods and up a hill until finally reaching a small cottage.


    ''So this is my home.'' John thought while looking at it.


    The cottage was fully made of wood, save for the glass on the closed windows. It didn''t have any sort of decor, coupled with a high amount of weeds around it that made the place look abandoned.


    John always found it strange that his Mother chose to live here. He knew that with her level, even as a southerner, she would be able to get at least a good house in town. Now, with his memories from the previous world, he could only think that she must be hiding from something.


    ''Well, guess it''s time to meet her.'' With that, John pushed the door open and entered the cottage. The first thing he noticed was the tasty smell of cooked food.


    The cottage''s inside was divided into three parts. A kitchen/Dining room connected to the entrance, and one bedroom on each side. The one on the left belonged to his Mother, while the right one was his.


    As soon as he entered, John''s eyed turned to the dining table, and the woman serving the freshly cooked food.


    "You''re back. Did you complete the hunt?" Dene asked, acting like she didn''t know how it all went.


    "Yes, Mo-Mother." With memories from both the past and actual life, it was kinda weird to call her Mother. But the John from before the mind awakening loved his Mother, which therefore extended to the present one.


    "Good, show me the proof then." Dene ordered, placing the food on the table.


    John first placed the bundle on the ground and unwrapped it, revealing the Wind Deer antlers. Then, he removed the Great Boar''s tusks from his bag and also presented them.


    "During my trial, I managed to kill both a Wind Deer and a Great Boar. Here is the proof."


    Dene inspected the trophies for a few seconds before revealing one of her rare smiles. "Well done my son, you''ve completed your trial. Following our tribe''s customs, you are now a man."


    "Thank you Mo-" John paused for a moment when he looked at his Mother''s eyes, but continued as if nothing happened. "Thank you, Mother."


    When he looked into her eyes, he felt something strangely familiar.


    "And I see that you''ve also achieved a mind awakening. Well done again. It''s getting late, and you must be tired by now. Eat and go rest, tomorrow we go back to training." After saying this, Dene sat by the table and began to eat.


    John followed suit, but his mind was on the feeling he just had


    ''She wasn''t surprised when I came back, neither when I showed her the trophies or when mentioning my mind awakening. Almost like she already knew...'' It was then that it clicked, and John stared at the food in front of him.


    It was enough for two people, and it had just been cooked.


    ''Not like she knew, she definitely knew.'' Realizing this, he once again looked at his Mother.


    She had dark black skin, short, tightly coiled hair and brown eyes. It was the dark circles around her eyes that attracted his attention.


    ''I slept for almost a full day at the forest, but nothing happened to me. No animal or magical beast tried to attack me in my sleep. Also, I kept feeling like there was someone watching me...''


    It was then that John made the connection. That familiar feeling he just felt when looking at her eyes was because he felt the same at the forest. That would also explain how tired she looks.


    ''She must have kept watch over me while I was passed out. That would also explain why the feeling disappeared after I left the forest. It must have been because she rushed back here to cook for me.'' After connecting all the pieces, John couldn''t help but show a smile, that was picked up by Dene.


    "What''s wrong?"


    "Nothing, just thinking about something." John answered and went back to eating, while on the inside he had a warm feeling for knowing that she wouldn''t let anything happen to him.

 15 Greenflower town

    John woke up the next day with the sunrise. He stared at the wooden roof for a few seconds, before a question came to his mind.


    ''Where the hell am I?''


    It took him a few seconds to recall everything that happened.


    ''Oh yeah, I died and came to another world. It will take some time to get used to this.''


    He thought while raising his hand in front of his face, the former illuminated by the sunlight that came through the glass window.


    The hand was small and without any hairs on its back, clearly belonging to a child, but its palm was full of calluses from the daily training with the shortswords. The other hand was the same, except for a small wound between the knuckles where Tom''s tooth got lodged.


    Checking his arms next, there weren''t any of his old tattoos, nor any scars, save for the wound at his shoulder. Although it opened again during the fight against the brothers, it was already closing. At this rate, it should be fully healed in just a few days, but this was still too long for him.


    ''Yesterday when I arrived it was late already. Today, I will ask my Mother to take me to a healer.''


    Getting up from the bed, John got dressed and then left the room. Entering the kitchen, he saw his Mother was already awake.


    "Good morning."


    "Morning. Eat up and let''s start the day." Dene ordered.


    "Yes."


    John sat down and ate his food. When done, he brought up the issue of his wound.


    "Oh, right. We will go to the town and visit the healer. Also, what do you want to do with the trophies from the hunt?" Dene asked.


    In her tribe, the trophies from the trial were only used as proof. Some kept them as souvenirs, while others would simply sell them.


    "Let''s just sell them." John answered without having to think about it. In his eyes, although the trophies were nice, they also occupied too much space. He had even thrown away the snake leather, from before recovering his memories, and only kept the fangs.


    "Good, I''ll get my weapons, and we shall go."


    After a few minutes, they both left the cottage and were going down the trail. The walk to town went silently, as Dene herself wasn''t much of a talker, and John was still taking in the environment.


    Greenflower was a small town with less than 2 thousand people, situated close to the edge of the dukedom. Being such a small town, there wasn''t a wall to protect it, with the only fortified location being the castle where the baron lived.


    The houses were tiny and cluttered together, with second stories projected over the streets. The streets were a bit narrow and unpaved, including the main street and the marketplace. Furthermore, it all smelled. A lot.


    To John, it was exactly how he expected a medieval, European town to look like. He followed his mother through the main street towards the marketplace, where they headed to the healer.


    As with most other buildings, the healer''s shop was quite small. Entering, one could feel the aroma of herbs, though it was a mystery if they had any medicinal value or if they were there just to disguise the smell of the streets.


    Sitting behind the counter was an old man smoking a pipe. He saw the two southerners entering his shop, and was ready to kick them out when he sensed the woman''s level. More specifically, he didn''t.


    The old man was a level 9 Mage. That meant that the woman in front of him was, at least, both a Crusader AND an Archmage.


    Knowing that he couldn''t afford to offend her, the healer quickly got up from his chair.


    "Welcome to my humble shop, how may I help you?"


    "You''re a healer, right?"


    "Yes miss, b-but I don''t think I''d be able to heal you..."


    The higher the body level of the wounded one, the harder it is to heal them. As a Mage, it would take him hours to heal a single knife wound on someone at the Crusader realm.


    "I know that. It''s for him." Dene pointed at her son. "His shoulder is wounded."


    "Oh, right."


    "John, show it to him."


    With that, John took off his shirt and the healer began to inspect the wound.


    "Hmm, not too deep, but it would be best to give it some stitches first."


    ''Damn it.'' Thought John. He didn''t like getting stitches, or needles in general for that matter.


    "Make it fast. And heal his hand too."


    "Yes, Ma''am." Not daring to make her wait, the healer took a needle and thread from behind the counter and began to stitch the wound. When finished he opened a jar filled with water, mixed it with some herbs and then cast a spell.


    Suddenly, the water in the jar started floating towards the wound, remaining there and causing it to fully heal in a matter of minutes instead of days.


    He did the same for John''s hand, then canceled the spell, removed the stitches, and it was done.


    As John was only a level 4 Fighter, healing him wasn''t too hard for the old man.


    "All done Ma''am."


    "Good." Dene said before throwing the man a pouch with 20 silver coins in it. "Let''s go, John."


    "Thank you, Ma''an." Only after Dene left, was the old man able to heave a sigh of relief.


    Leaving the healers shop, they then headed towards the general goods store.


    ------


    "Here you go, Sir." Spoke a middle-aged merchant as he placed two bags over the counter. "Everything which you requested."


    Besides the middle-aged merchant, there was also a noble couple followed by a slave.


    The nobleman was of average size, had short, black hair and brown eyes. His clothes were made of bright blue velvet, the same as his wife. She was a little bit shorter, with a red hair that reached her shoulders and bright green eyes.


    As nobles, they were used to wearing fancy clothing that symbolized their status.


    The southern slave, on the other hand, was dressed in rags that barely covered his tall body.


    "Good." The nobleman aloofly spoke. "Slave, pick it up and let''s go."


    It was at this moment that Dene and John entered the store.


    Noticing the duo come in, the nobleman kept his aloof attitude, though he said nothing. Although he was weaker than the woman, he was still the Baron''s son.


    The noble couple left the store followed by the slave carrying the bags, after which Dene placed the trophies over the counter and addressed the store owner. "I want to sell these."


    "Miss Ellie, talkative as always I see, haha. Let''s see what we have here."


    The middle-aged man was called Edmund and he owned the store. He appeared to be in the early-forties, with his black hair and mustache already showing signs of white.


    He knew Dene, though she said her name was Ellie, since years ago when she moved into her isolated cottage. She would come to the store once in a while to sell Magical Beast''s trophies or to buy any items she needed.


    In fact, it was from him that she bought John''s armor and weapons.


    She herself disliked the northerners, though she did grow accustomed to the store owner over the years.


    "A pair of Wind Deer antlers and Great Boar tusks." Edmund was surprised and couldn''t help but ask. "What happened, you are hunting these weak Beasts now?"


    "I hunted them." John spoke for the first time since they left the cottage.


    "Oh?" Edmund looked towards John. "A level 4 Fighter, not bad. Is he your son miss Ellie?"


    "Yes, how much for the trophies?"


    "So it was for him that you bought that leather armor and the small swords. Right, the trophies. Let me see, how about 7 silver coins for everything? 3 from the tusks and 4 from the antlers."


    Dene was about to agree but John spoke first.


    "Wait, I want to buy some things first." He walked around the store, picking up some items and then placed them over the counter.


    "A roll of bandages, a mirror, and three books¡­ It all comes to 2 silver and 40 copper coins. Subtracting it from the 7 silver coins, you''ll still receive 4 silver and 60 copper coins."


    "I''ll take it." John stored the items and coins in his bag and then left alongside his Mother.


    "Let''s go home, it''s time for you to cast your first spell."


    John''s eyes shone when he heard that.


    "Yes, Mother."

 16 Who?

    The walk back home went as silently as the walk to town. Reaching the cottage, John left the bag with the stuff he bought in his room, picked up the shortswords and went outside where Dene waited for him.


    "Begin." Spoke Dene.


    John didn''t immediately attack. With weapons in hands, he walked around her, trying to find the best chance to strike. Rushing straight at her would be the worst decision, as he lost both in strength and agility.


    He could already equal her in fighting techniques, therefore Dene began to use more of her strength to compensate. Now that she taught him all of her techniques, she wanted him to get used to fighting enemies above his level.


    He had already made a full round when he finally attacked. Aiming at her torso, John pierced forward with the shortsword.


    Dene deflected, causing it to harmlessly pass just a few centimeters from her arm. At the same motion, she slashed with her other weapon to which her son also deflect, albeit not as easily.


    After this short clash, both jumped back, once again widening the distance.


    John''s next attack was a horizontal slash from right to left, which forced her to dodge back. He jumped forward to continue the attack, this time slashing with both weapons from left to right.


    Unable to dodge again, Dene deflected both weapons, which caused her to lose her balance.


    ''Now!'' John tried to take advantage of the opening and once again rushed forward.


    But instead of trying to regain her balance, Dene actually followed the motion, turning a 180 on one leg, and kicked back with the other.


    John was caught by surprise, receiving a kick to the diaphragm and getting the air blown out of his lungs.


    Making use of the blowback, Dene made a roll, landed back on her feet and turned another 180, rushing straight to John, all in a fluid motion.


    He still hadn''t recovered from the blow and so wasn''t able to avoid the next attack, getting knocked to the ground.


    "Again." Dene spoke, walking back to her initial position.


    John took a few moments to catch his breath, then got up to continue the fight. This was just his first defeat this session.


    They paused for lunch around noon, then resumed after a short break. Their fight continued until sunset when they stopped the combat training for the day.


    John washed himself, put on clean clothes and was about to have dinner when he remembered something. The bag with the stuff he bought earlier today.


    First the bandage roll. As a soldier in his past life, and also after experiencing this world''s combat, he knew how easy it was to get injured during a fight. If he was in the wild again, with no access to healers, those bandages would do for some first aid.


    Second the books. In his memories, there was simply too little information about this world. Although his mother taught him everything she knew about the kingdom, it was still too little as she herself was a foreigner.


    Therefore, he bought one book of maps, detailing the dukedom''s geography, along with two books about the history of various noble houses.


    Third, the hand mirror that he was now holding. It was just a simple, slightly dirty mirror with a wood frame, but it was good enough for John as he just wanted to know his own appearance.


    Looking at his own reflection, there was a surprise. He was already aware that his face would be of a child and that his head would be shaved, but his eyes¡­ they were hazel - A mix of brown and green.


    ''That''s not right. Southerners are supposed to have brown eyes. That''s the case for my mother, and also the slave I saw earlier today. Furthermore¡­'' John looked at the skin at the back of his hand. ''It''s a light brown color, while my Mother''s is a dark brown.''


    He knew that these differences could only have come from his father, which caused a question to appear in his mind.


    ''Who is my Father?''


    All of his life in this world, John never knew who the man was, as Dene made sure his focus was on training.


    But now, unable to hold his curiosity, he decided to ask her after tonight''s lesson.


    John left the mirror in his room and entered the kitchen for dinner.


    The meal consisted of a stew, some chicken and fruits for dessert, same as always.


    After dining, they put the dishes away then headed to johns room for his lesson.


    "Now, do you remember the incantation for the [Shadow Cover]?" Dene asked.


    "Yes. It''s..." John recited the whole incantation for the spell.


    "Good. recite it again, but this time close your eyes and try to feel how the mana moves with as you utter the words. Keep doing it until you''re able to feel it."


    "[Shadow Cover] allows one to blend with the shadows, so you''ll want the mana to cover you from the light, therefore it''s name."


    John did as he was told, reciting the spell again and again. By the fifth time, he managed to feel something, like he could guide the mana to surround his whole body.


    He recited the spell again, trying to find the same feeling as before.


    ''Like this, cover me from the light.''


    When he opened his eyes, Dene was displaying one of her rare smiles. "Congratulations."


    John looked down at his own body, and it was a much darker color, including his clothes. Although counterproductive in a bright setting, this would definitely be useful in the dark of night.


    "That''s it? It''s already over?" John asked, slightly confused. He simply began to recite the spell and followed the feeling he had on how to guide the mana, and when he came to his senses, the spell was already cast.


    "That''s right. I mentioned to you the incantation''s function, it''s used as a form of self-hypnosis. Before becoming a Mage, nothing would ever happen if you recited it. But now that you''re able to manipulate mana, it''ll be different."


    "So, I just need to start reciting the spell?"


    "That, and to know how the mana moves according to the spell. [Shadow Cover] is among the simpler ones, so you were able to cast it just by feeling how the mana should move through the incantation. More advanced spells will require much more practice."


    "Also," Dene continued her instruction. "There''s the matter of affinity. The higher your affinity with an element, the easier it is to cast its spells. We all have different affinities to different elements, depending on our blood. The Yao tribe always had good affinity with the Darkness element, while everyone from the desert tribes tends to be above average with the Fire element."


    "Affinities are usually inherited from the parents, but that''s not always the case. For example, it''s possible for a man aligned with the Earth element, and a woman aligned with the element of Water to give birth to a child mostly aligned with the Lightning element. Even the levels of affinity may wildly differ."


    "Therefore, the most accurate way to gauge it is through an elemental tablet. Unfortunately, only nobles are able to have it. Without it, one must try different element spells and guess which one is easier to cast. Now, look"


    Dene began to recite a different incantation.


    [Flaming hands!]


    When done, she put her hands up and they were on fire.


    "This is a Fire element spell, on the same level as [Shadow Cover]. As my affinity with Fire isn''t as good as with Darkness, I''m not able to ignore its incantation, even though I''m an Archmage. If I try, the spell may backfire and hurt me."


    "Is that why you took me to the healer, instead of healing me yourself?"


    "That''s right. Healing is exclusive to Water or Light element, both of which are opposite to the ones I have an affinity with. But I''ll teach you about this in another lesson. For today, try practicing other simple spells then go to sleep."


    She got up from her seat and already had her hand on the door handle when John spoke.


    "Mom, can I ask you something?"


    "Hum, What is it?" Dene asked back, turning her head towards her son.


    "Who is my Father?"


    Dene felt her blood go cold. She stood still without speaking for an uncomfortably long time.


    John was about to break the silence, but his mother did it first.


    "Haaaa¡­ I always hoped this day wouldn''t come, but you''re a man now, so you have the right to know." Dene took her hand away from the door handle and got back to the chair.


    "If you wanna know who your father is, first you must know how I left the desert and ended up here..."

 17 Defeated

    It was over. It was all over.


    From this day forth, the Yao tribe was no more, unable to defend against the white people''s armies.


    Its 500 years of history, its plans to unite the tribes and recreate the great desert empire of old.


    It was all over.


    ------


    The smell of smoke filled the air while the stone streets were littered with dark skinned bodies.


    In the central plaza, the last survivors from this once great tribe were gathered like cattle, surrounded by soldiers donning full-plate armor and wielding different weapons - mostly some type of sword.


    Longswords, greatswords, rapiers, estocs... The northern kingdoms viewed the sword as the noblest of weapons, view that was reflected in their armies, while maces, pole weapons, and bows assumed secondary roles.


    The southern tribes, on the other hand, didn''t really have a general preference for it, with each tribe having their own weapon of choice. This was just one of the reasons that the southern tribes were viewed as barbarians by their northern neighbors.


    A few meters from the group of captives, a dark-skinned giant of a man was forced on his knees by one soldier on either side so he could be interrogated.


    Jelani was a strong, tall man ¡ª even for southern standards. He did justice to his name, which meant ''Mighty''.


    In the middle of his chest, the Yao tribe''s symbol carved directly on the skin through a painful process of scarification. The same symbol, three concentric circles, could also be seen on his forehead.


    The Adinkrahene - as it was called in their old tongue - symbolized greatness, and its placements were not chosen at random.


    The Chief of the Yao tribe must lead by example, both as Warrior and Spellcaster, therefore the markings; the one in the chest represents greatness of body, while the one on the forehead represents greatness of mind.


    This notion extended to beyond cultivation. As a leader, the Chief must be without equal in battle, but also as a strategist.


    Unfortunately, this once great Chief had been defeated along with his tribe. His right arm no longer attached to his shoulder, while the left one was bending the wrong way.


    But even though he could no longer lift a weapon, it didn''t mean he wasn''t dangerous, something one of the soldiers found out the hard way when Jelani bit off his nose.


    Not taking any more risks, the soldiers collared him and tied up his legs with a chain, both made of triotium to prevent him from casting spells. They would''ve broken off his teeth too if they didn''t need him to talk.


    "Perhaps I''m talking too fast for your primitive mind to comprehend, so I''ll do it a bit slower and with fewer words. How. Does. It. Open?"


    "..." Jelani kept his silence. But even defeated, he kept his firm gaze on the man who invaded his lands and killed his people.


    ------


    A young man, seemingly in his late twenties tried in vain to obtain some answers from Jelani.


    He had deep blue eyes along with jet black hair that stopped a few inches short of his shoulders and a clean face.


    He donned a lustrous full plate armor, the kind that never once had to be tested against a weapon. And why would it? The young man was too important to be personally fighting in a war, which would be known just by gazing at the coat of arms on his breastplate.


    Blue lilies on a black background, Lisbleus'' coat of arms, one of the four northern kingdoms.


    Although the north had tens of kingdoms, only four of them really mattered.


    Silberwalder with its vast mines, Portos, and their dauntless explorers, Gwynland with their strong armies and Lisbleus with their fertile lands.


    And this man was the second most important person in the whole kingdom of Lisbleus.


    Duke of Margandy, the Crown Prince Louis.


    "Damm it, they are too stupid to understand." Louis spoke in irritation while pressing a hand against his forehead.


    "Forget it then." He shifted his gaze to the side, towards his assistant. "Gauthier."


    "Yes, your Royal Highness?" The man immediately answered.


    "Send him to the torturer and see if he spills out anything. If not, then just kill him and we''ll find out by ourselves how to open the inner area."


    Having received his order, the man left with the soldiers, who dragged Jelani along, and was quickly replaced by another assistant. Louis was a Duke and heir to the throne. Someone of this importance must always have assistants close by to receive his orders.


    "These savages, some of them are quite stronger than the average, even back in the north." Louis said while looking at the group of survivors. "They must''ve been using the secret realm, am I right?"


    "Yes, your Royal Highness. Apparently, the savage''s leader used the secret realm as a training ground for his tribe. Every one of them has visited it at least once."


    "Hmph, looks like even these animals are capable of rational thought. Whatever, let''s go. I wish to see what this secret realm looks like."


    "Certainly, and what should we do with them?" Asked the assistant while signaling towards the group of captives.


    "It will be impossible to hide this discovery for too long, and then the other Monarchs will want a piece of the cake..." He pondered for a few moments before making his decision.


    "If we can''t hide it, then we''ll go the other way and divulge it. Make it seem as we want to help the four kingdoms grow."


    "Hear my orders. Round the best ones, send one to each of the biggest houses from the other 3 kingdoms and let them see for themselves the effects of the secret realm. If it could make these savages so strong, imagine what it would do to enlightened ones such as ourselves."


    "Yes, your Royal Highness."


    ------


    The soldiers received their orders and quickly started selecting the best of the captives to be sent to the noble houses. Besides cultivation strength, they also took into account their age.


    All of the survivors were then shackled up with triotium, with the selected ones thrown into wagons while the others would have to walk.


    But regardless if they had been selected or not, they would all be forcefully taken from their birthplaces to serve as slaves in a land they didn''t know.


    Among the ones selected was a deeply worried young woman in her early twenties. Her once full head of hair had been completely shaved off, while on her face was a massive sword cut.


    She got it the day before. It started at the left side of the forehead, passed between the eyebrows and reached all the way to the right side of the jaw.


    It would heal on its own before she reached the north, but the scar would remain.


    But it wasn''t that what she was worried about.


    ''Father...''


    Her father was Jelani, the strongest Chief the tribe has ever had.


    As one of his children, she was also very talented in cultivation, maybe even being possible to enter the core area of the secret realm in the future and find out what it held.


    But now, this would never happen. She and her siblings would probably never be able to come back while her father would be tortured to death.


    Jelani was very strong, it would take him a long time to die.


    She had to force herself not to cry.


    She had to be strong.


    She had to survive. Only by surviving could there be any hope.


    Pressing her arm against her body, she was able to feel the lump around her biceps. This was the reason she needed to have hope.


    Before the final battle, she met with her father.


    Jelani knew they wouldn''t be able to win. The invaders were too strong. Therefore, he had to make sure the tribe''s most important possession was kept safe.


    After losing the battle, he would either die or fall in their hands to be interrogated. Either way, that was his end.


    He could only hope that they wouldn''t really care to check for the members of his family. In the end, that''s exactly what happened.


    She kept replaying it in her mind.


    ------


    A few hours before the final battle.


    Jelani put down the razor.


    "It''s done." He said with a tinge of tiredness in his voice. Only in front of his daughter would he show any sign of weakness.


    "Ok." The woman said lightly before reaching for a hand mirror.


    She used to be really proud of her hair. Ever since becoming an adult she never trimmed it, not even once. But she had to cut it off now, make it harder for her to be identified.


    "Did you hide the key?" Her father asked.


    She answered by raising the left arm and showing the lump on it. The key was small, only slightly bigger than a coin. It could be hidden inside her own body.


    "Good¡­ That''s good." Jelani spoke, finally taking a seat by his daughter''s side. He had been going back and forth for days, barely having time to even sleep. But it would all be over soon.


    "..." The woman didn''t speak and simply gazed at her own reflection, while her father simply enjoyed the silence. It had been a long time since he last heard it.


    But he knew he couldn''t stay here forever. They still had one more thing to do.


    "Are you ready?" He asked while standing back up.


    "...Yes." She put the mirror to the side and also stood up. "Do it."


    Jelani drew his shortsword but didn''t strike right away.


    "I''m very proud of you Dene. And I''m sorry."


    With that, he raised his weapon and slashed down.


    Dene didn''t cry, nor did she scream.


    She had to be strong.

 18 Away from home

    Even without walking, the travel north was long and arduous. Dene and other eleven tribesmen were arranged sitting down in two rows with their backs against the small wagon''s walls. Those were her people; men and women she fought side by side with. After this, it was possible that they would never meet again.


    The acrid smell of sweat assaulted her nose, just like the day before and the one before that. Furthermore, the wagon was kept completely closed, which made the inside of it feel like a stove, causing even more sweat and therefore a worse smell.


    For the past month now this had been her life, with only brief interruptions twice a day when they would be taken out to relieve themselves, like dogs.


    Only during these brief intervals were they able to take a breath of fresh air and look around to see how the desert sands gradually turned into green fields and farmlands for as far as the eyes could see.


    So much life. Dene would have found such views beautiful if it weren''t for the situation at hand. Now she just wished for those fields to burn down along with all of these northerners.


    Other than these moments, they remained chained up, crammed inside the small wagon, eating and sleeping like that.


    Today this torment would come to an end, though it may very well give way to something much, much worse.


    From outside came the sound of horses trotting on the dirt road. Too many to count.


    Listening to the banter of their captors, she knew they were not far from their destination.


    Gwynland, one of the four northern kingdoms.


    They first headed north to Lisbleus, then west towards Brestais, a city at the kingdom''s border. There, they would be separated, cleaned and sent to their respective houses.


    "Halt!" Ordered a voice from afar and the wagon slowed down until finally stopping. "State your business."


    "Good morning friends." A second voice, this time coming from the side of the wagon answered. Dene recognized that voice, as the other captors referred to it as Captain. "We bring a shipment from down south addressed to your Lordship the Marquis. He should be expecting us already."


    "Yes, he is. Wait a moment, I''ll call his assistant."


    They remained stopped for a quarter of an hour until someone else arrived.


    "Took you long enough. The shipment was supposed to arrive two days ago."


    "Do you know how hard it is to move through a desert? We had to go slow."


    "His Lordship doesn''t care for your excuses. Now hurry up and show me the cargo."


    "Yeah, yeah," The Captain said, then continued in a lower voice, "arrogant little prick."


    He opened the door at the back of the wagon, causing Dene to squint her eyes because of the blinding light.


    "Now let me see these- By the holy flame!" The assistant had barely arrived at the Captain''s side and immediately pulled away, "Blargh!" and retched.


    "I should have warned you about the smell, my bad." Apologized the Captain, though his tone of voice said otherwise.


    Dene''s eyes started adjusting to the light, and she was able to see a pompously dressed man, most likely the assistant, with his head down and hands on his knees.


    The Captain was behind the door, which prevented her from seeing him.


    Further back, she counted four dozen cavalrymen - around two men for every woman - and there should be more at the front.


    Different from the soldiers surrounding the Crown Prince, these ones weren''t as well equipped.


    They donned a standard black cuirass over a blue gambeson coupled with a pair of black plate gauntlets. Also, over blue pants, half-cuisses and half-greaves which only protected the front part of the legs, both of them in black color.


    Finally, the uniforms had a black helmet with a blue cloth wrapped around it, though they weren''t currently wearing it, with most carrying them around their arms, or tied to their unarmored horses.


    As for weapons, these were the only northerners Dene had seen using something other than swords.


    They carried long spears which they would point forward when charging with their horses, wreaking havoc on the southerners lines. The spears didn''t fare as well when unable to charge though, with the cavalrymen choosing to switch them for the sword at their hips and dismount in such situations.


    Dene wondered, if the southerners shared this devotion to the sword, maybe the result could''ve been different. Maybe if they donned heavy pieces of armor like the northerners, trading speed and agility for better protection they could have lasted longer. Or maybe their ways were better, and they were defeated despite them and not because of them.


    Maybe, maybe, maybe. It made no difference now.


    "Haa¡­ koff koff¡­ you damn lowborn!... argh¡­ the Marquis will hear of this!"


    "Yeah yeah, do as you wish, our job is done. Let''s go, men, let''s find us some girls!"


    "And boys!" A woman''s voice called out.


    "Why spend your silver when there are so many nice lads around? Me for example."


    "For starters, I would prefer someone who has bathed in the past fortnight..."


    Cheers and laughter rang out, as the cavalrymen made their way to the city, leaving the assistant behind with the wagon.


    The assistant recomposed himself, while a group of guards from the city came to his side. They had similar equipment to the cavalrymen, save for the long spear, cuisses, and greaves.


    Also, instead of the black and blue, they were in gold and white.


    "Tch!" He spat on the ground before turning towards the open wagon and asking, "Can you speak common?"


    Dene and the others slowly nodded after a couple of seconds.


    "Good, come on out then."


    Dene struggled to stand up on numb legs, then, even more, to step down from the wagon and stand in line, all the while chained to the other eleven. Out of the wagon, she was able to see they had stopped in front of the city gates.


    "Urgh," The man pressed a handkerchief to his nose, "At least the number is right."


    With that, he proceeded to examine the group, starting from leftmost one, Dene.


    "Young, but a Crusader and Archmage already. Shouldn''t be too hard on the eyes without the gash on the face. Lieutenant!" The assistant shouted towards the one who seemed in charge of the guards.


    The man came towards the assistant and replied, "Sir."


    "Pick four men to take this to get washed up and call for Doctor Vannier to heal the face. When done, ship it to house Olsen."


    "Yes, Sir."


    Four guards then came forward, unchained her from the others and guided her into the city.


    She turned around to take one last look at her people, all the while trying not to cry.


    ''Be strong.'' She kept thinking to herself.


    They went through the gates into a wide, but still crowded street. There were common people going their way, merchants by the sides showcasing their products, beggars asking for a few coppers and street urchins walking around, definitely up to no good.


    But whoever they were, as long as they were not part of the nobility, everyone made way for the city guard.


    Dene walked for three or four kilometers until reaching a castle. They went through the gates, climbed two flights of stairs and through a long, nicely decorated corridor until reaching a door.


    The guards removed her chains and shoved her inside.


    "Don''t try anything black one," One of the guards spoke, "There''s only one exit and we''ll be guarding it."


    Having said his piece, the man closed the door.


    The guard wasn''t lying, the washroom had no windows nor any other doors. Only a couple of lightstones on the walls for illumination, and a bathtub filled with water in the middle of the room.


    No soap, brush or anything. Dene was wondering how she was supposed to wash when the door opened again and three servant girls came in. They were carrying blocks of soap, brushes, towels, a flask with what she believed to be perfume and some clothes.


    "Ple-Please take off your clothes and en-enter the bathtub." Stammered one of them.


    She should be in her teens, same for the other two, and was only a level 4 Fighter.


    Dene could easily kill the trio, but she would never make it through the guards outside so she just did as asked.


    She removed her rags, dropped them on the ground and got inside the tub.


    The girls quickly got to work, washing, soaping and brushing every part of her body.


    She couldn''t help to recall her life back south as Chief''s daughter, where she would have servants to care for all her needs. Clothes, foods, drinks. Whatever she wished for, there would be someone to answer her orders.


    Except for her hair. She prohibited anyone from touching it, and would always care for it herself.


    "Is it here?" Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming from outside.


    "Yes, Sir," One of the guards answered, "Please enter."


    The door was opened again and in came an old Warlock man. He had no beard and the little hair he had left was completely white and was dressed in grey clothes under a white, sleeveless tunic.


    When he came in the girls immediately dropped everything and backed away. He approached the tub, looked at Dene''s face, uttered an incantation and pulled some water from the tube towards the scar, which began to heal until closing down completely, leaving no marks behind.


    "It''s done." He said, left, and the door was once again closed. The whole process must have taken less than a minute.

 19 Gif

    As soon as the Warlock left, the girls resumed work, though Dene was no longer paying attention.


    ''That was it?'' she thought to herself, confusion filling her heart.


    She had seen the pain in her father''s eyes when he slashed at her, along with the shame she felt when she had to shave her head, both to try hiding her identity.


    And then after one month as a captive and now deep into the enemy territory... no one has ever asked her name, not even once.


    ''They didn''t even try to know who I was. Maybe if father tried to hide among the other tribesman...'' She wondered for an instant but quickly shook her head, discarding the idea. ''Even if he would agree to such a thing, I don''t think the white ones would ignore father''s markings.''


    "Haaa..." Dene passed the back of her hand through what little hair had grown back in the last month. It no longer prickled when she did so, but it was still shamefully short.


    After succeeding on her trial, she never once knew defeat, neither as a hunter nor a warrior. The long, dreadlocked hair reaching the lower back was proof of that.


    Now it was gone, along with her family, her tribe and everyone else she knew.


    *CRACK!* The sound of wood breaking brought her back from her thoughts.


    She looked down and saw what had happened.


    All this while she had been grabbing onto the side of the bathtub and must have put too much strength into it.


    "What was that?" A guard asked from outside.


    Dene glared at the nearest girl.


    She trembled slightly then made up a lie, "I-I slipped Sir," afraid of what Dene would do to her.


    "Hmph, hurry up and finish washing it, we don''t have all day."


    "Yes, Sir." the girl answered, then turned back to Dene awaiting permission.


    "... You heard him."


    The girls got back to soaping, then washing Dene''s body. When done, she stood up from the bathtub so they could wipe her with the towels.


    That''s when the door opened once again, and in came a fourth servant girl carrying a bright green dress, black undergarments along with black leather shoes and a small glass bottle.


    After making sure she was completely dry, the servant girls worked together to put her in the undergarments and then in the dress. It clung tightly to her upper body, thanks to the girls tying the laces in the back as hard as they could, while the frilled and slightly bulky lower part reached all the way to her feet.


    When done, two of the girls then proceeded to help her put on the shoes while a third sprayed the contents of the glass bottle on her body.


    It was perfume, though Dene suspected it to be a torture instrument, such was the nauseatingly sweet fragrance.


    "I put a little extra Miss," the servant girl said, "so it may last all the way there."


    ''So that I may be nauseous all the way there.''


    "Now that you''re ready, let''s go, we don''t want to keep the guards waiting." the girl said, then left the washroom alongside the other three carrying away the soaps, towels and other things they had bought.


    ''So this is it.'' Dene sighed before leaving after them.


    The same four guards waited outside. Maybe to prevent dirtying her dress, they didn''t chain her up again and simply positioned themselves two in front and two behind her.


    They went back through the same corridor, descended the flights of stairs towards the ground level, but instead of going towards the entrance, they went the opposite way, towards the back of the castle.


    Passing through an open doorway, Dene found herself in a large porch with neatly lined white tables, each encircled by four to eight golden whisker chairs, along with a hole in the middle of said tables through which passed an also golden parasol.


    ''Should be able to fit a hundred people easily,'' she figured.


    Further ahead was an open field of grass, cut in half by a wide, straight path made of stone, going all the way towards the castle walls'' gateway.


    At the right side of this path, there were carriages painted in bright colors lined up with various people around them, mostly guards. Among them was the same assistant from before.


    Though her attention was on the carriages, each pulled by two white horses donning golden caparisons. Not stuffed wagons as the one she came in, but carriages worthy of a noble.


    ''Must want their "gifts" nicely wrapped. But why only eleven?'' Dene wondered. There were twelve tribesmen counting herself.


    Apparently, she wasn''t the only one wondering though, as one of the guards escorting her asked another, "Shouldn''t there be one more carriage?"


    "They must have sent one out already, I don''t know."


    Not caring about it, or not daring to ask, the guards just remained quiet and took Dene to the assistant.


    "You''re here," He said, "there''s been a change of plans. You''ll be going on the Gale."


    The guards'' eyes shone when they heard that.


    "Don''t get distracted," the assistant continued, "keep an eye on it the whole way, understood?"


    "Yes, Sir!" The quartet answered in unison.


    "Good," he said, then handed them a metal collar, "put this on it and wait here."


    They promptly obeyed his orders, closing the collar around her neck and padlocking it, and turned their gazes to the sky, as if expecting for something.


    Dene, on the other hand, was more interested in the collar. It had one small ruby encrusted both at the front and the back, along with one small emerald on each side. Though what really had drawn her eye was the blackish metal with specks of purple of in it.


    She only knew of one such metal, the same from the chains and shackles used on her on the way here. Triotium.


    ''No weapons, outnumbered and also can''t use spells. I''ll have to bide my time, wait for a chance to esca-''


    "...kreeee-eeee-aar..."


    Dene''s thoughts were interrupted by a hoarse, rasping cry up high in the distance, from the other side of the castle.


    ''What was that?'' She looked for the source of the sound, but her view was blocked by the large structure.


    Though the guards maintained their excited looks.


    ''Could it be the Gale?''


    "Kreeee-eeee-aar"


    The same scream, louder this time. Whatever it was, it was approaching.


    They kept their gazes on the top of the castle, so did her. The seconds seemed to drag forever until finally...


    "KREEEE-EEEE-AAR!!"


    Dene felt the cry reverberating inside of her as she finally saw the source of it.


    With a wingspan almost as large as the castle itself, a gigantic bird descended towards the field, gusts of wind blowing against all those present. On its talons, it carried what looked like another carriage, but without its wheels.


    It closed in on the ground, gently dropping what it was carrying, or at least as gently as it could, then landed further up the path and away from the carriages, whose coaches tried to calm the now agitated horses.


    ''By the gods,'' Dene remained rooted to the spot, entranced by the gigantic magical beast ''is this the Gale?''.


    Its body covered in an evenly dark brown plumage stood tall at three or four stories high. It had eyes at the front of its head, a powerful, curved beak and strong feet with talons, all traits of a bird of prey.


    Wrapped around its neck was a leather strap holding the saddle on which a sat a white armored Knight.


    "Start walking," a shove by one of the guards brought her back to reality and they conducted her towards the wheelless carriage.


    Taking a closer look at it, she saw that it was actually a large litter, with a single pole sticking out from both ends at the top where Gale would grab on. Hanging, under each of its curtained windows, were banners in the same golden and white colors she had seen everywhere else since she walked out of the wagon.


    She walked towards the litter''s door, under one of the poles and entered.


    Once inside, she was immediately greeted by a boy''s stare. He remained seated, gazing curiously at her without opening his mouth.


    ''Just a child, probably has never met a southerner before.'' Dene thought and found herself a seat, not wishing for another shove from the guards behind her.


    The litter had two rows of six cushioned chairs, each facing one another. The boy sat at the furthest seat at the right and she chose the seat facing him, finding his innocent curiosity preferable to the guards'' hostility.


    Not surprisingly, the litter''s inside was a mix of gold and white, with walls painted vertical stripes, the floor completely white while the ceiling was golden. Curtains alternated on these same colors and not even the chairs escaped with their white frames and golden cushions.


    ''What''s with these people painting everything golden and white?'' She wondered, then noticing a pair of gold and white hand waving flags over the boy''s lap, ''Gods...''


    The last of the guards got inside, closing the door then taking a seat along with the others and furthest away from Dene. They would be flying soon and the only way she could escape to was down, so no need to pay much attention to her.


    With everyone inside, the boy''s attention left Dene. He opened up the curtain along with the window closest to him and waved the little flags at the magical beast outside.


    "KREEEE-EEEE-AAR!!" it once again cried and promptly took to the air, away from her field of view, no doubt coming to grab the litter.


    Next thing she knew, everything shook and she felt her stomach dropping.

 20 Arriving

    The unsettling sensation didn''t last for long, fortunately. After reaching a certain altitude Gale stopped flapping its wings and proceeded to glide forward.


    Now stable in the air, Dene was surprised by the circulation of mana all around her. The collar only stopped her from manipulating mana, not from feeling it.


    She looked around, but no one else even seemed to feel it, or if they did, it didn''t bother them. Her guess was on the former as the guards were only Mages while the boy, not even that.


    Dene figured that it must be coming from the magical beast carrying them. It made sense when she thought about it. Forgetting the litter, just carrying its own weight would be in the air wouldn''t be possible for a beast this size. It most likely uses the wind element to aid its flight.


    Magical beasts like that, capable of manipulating mana were rare. This was the first one she had ever seen. Before today, she had only heard stories about these beasts. Her favorite ones were the stripped, wild horses from the far south. They would use both light and dark element to create optical illusions and escape from predators.


    "Why is your skin like that?" a childish, slightly high-pitched voice asked.


    "Don''t talk to it." one of the guards ordered before she could even answer the page boy.


    "Why?" the boy asked back, "she doesn''t look like a bad person."


    "Just let them talk, there''s no harm in it." another guard butted in, "But first tell us: why the rush to get to the Olsen House?"


    "Oh, right, you wouldn''t have heard!" the boy got up, excited to share what he knew, "Listen, you know how in Gwynland they have those war academies and tourneys right?"


    The guard simply nodded and told him to continue.


    "The finals were a few days ago, and Duke Olsen''s firstborn won the second year''s tournament. The Duke arranged a party to celebrate."


    That got the guards excited. Not the Duke''s son winning whatever tournament, but the party. They began to discuss among themselves if they would be able to get in while the boy got back to his seat and his attention back to Dene.


    He smothered her with questions ranging from her skin to the hair, to the collar and then to where she came from and what was the desert like along with talking about towns, rivers and other landmarks they flew over. The boy kept at it no stop for a couple of hours before finally lowering its intensity, but never quite stopping.


    The guards passed the time playing cards, trying to ignore the boy''s constant talking.


    After some time even she began doing the same, letting her gaze wander outside through the windows.


    Even from up high Dene couldn''t see an end to the green fields, forests, and a river, all seeming to extend forever. Life as far as the eye could see. So how come a place so filled with life gives birth to people so dead inside and cruel¡­


    They didn''t even see her and the other southerners as people, but things. "It", instead of "he" or "she".


    No. The boy showed no hatred or contempt towards her, only curiosity, while the serving girls acted in fear because of her strength but showed no animosity and end even the common people she passed in the streets towards the castle only had curiosity.


    They weren''t born feeling like this but learned it.


    Once in a while, she would see flocks of birds flying in the distance. None got close, obviously, either too slow to catch up with Gale''s speed or too afraid of Gale''s size.


    That''s why she felt surprised by what seemed to be a single brown bird approaching from the magical beast''s right side. More surprising was that said bird was carrying two people on its back.


    She looked to the other side and found a similar sight coming from the left.


    She interrupted the boy and finally made a question of her own, "Aren''t they coming toward us?" signaling to side.


    "Oh right," the page boy spoke not looking surprised, "They are Olsen''s sky patrols." He grabbed the small flags, stood up and opened a window. Putting his arms and head outside, he waited for the patrols to get closer.


    As they approached, Dene was able to better discern their features.


    The birds looked like giant turtle doves that she would so often see while migrating from the north to the far south on winter.


    The soldiers on their backs, different from the ones she had seen until now, had no metal armor, but tanned leather. They also donned leather helmets that covered the whole head, with two round lenses for vision and little holes around the mouth for breathing.


    The ones in front seemed to be the ones controlling the doves and struggling to get them as close as possible to the giant falcon Gale.


    More importantly though, the ones at the back both carried longbows which were trained not on them, but on Gale. She didn''t know how the magical beast would react when shot at, and would rather not find out, especially from this high up.


    When they were finally close enough, the boy started waving the flags around towards the patrol on the right side. Dene already figured it to be some sort of communication, though she had no idea what any of it meant.


    The soldier in front raised two small red and brown flags and also waved them for a few seconds, finishing with both flags pointing forward. When done, their dove pulled ahead while the other fell back, so that they remained with one in front and the other behind of Gale.


    The sights below gradually changed from forests to open fields and farmlands and she felt her blood flowing to her head as they lowered in altitude and speed. As the sun was almost setting, Dene finally saw their destination.


    A gigantic city came into view. "Lastan" according to the boy.


    "That''s one of the largest cities in all the four kingdoms," he continued his explanation after closing the window and sitting back down, "with close to half a million people."


    "It''s also one of the oldest, having existed even before Gwynland became an actual country. It survived revolts, sieges, and even invasions without ever falling though it has gotten close."


    They flew over the outer walls and he pointed towards a large castle right in the middle of the inner city, "That''s Dragonblood castle, where Duke Olsen and his family reside. It''s the largest building in the city followed by the fire temple to the north and Lastan''s war academy to the south, both also in the inner city."


    From up high she could see the castle. It was flooding with people celebrating both in the castle and its surroundings. The same for the academy, though on a lesser scale. That''s where they were heading.


    They then flew over the inner walls steadily approaching the ground. As they got closer, Gale once again began flapping its wings, causing the litter to lightly shake, along with those who were inside of it.


    When it reached the academy, the magical beast headed towards an open field in the campus to land. It slowly descended until the litter''s bottom finally touched the ground, and it could open its talons and let go.


    The last rays of sunshine disappeared as they finally landed.

 21 Windows to the soul

    Disclaimer: This chapter contains scenes of a violent nature


    Although they had already landed, neither the guards nor the page boy got up. They simply waited. The only one who moved was the white armored knight, who dismounted Gale and walked to litter''s side. The magic beast was looking up, at the dove circling above. The other one had left, most likely to notify their superiors.


    Everyone was silent. Even the boy stopped talking as the knight arrived, and stood outside looking towards the north gate with his back to the litter.


    Dene looked towards the boy who finally stopped talking. Not out of tiredness and neither for fearing the white armored knight, as seemed to be the case with the guards. If she had to guess, it would be as to not bother the knight to whom he was probably a servant.


    Imitating his lord, the boy turned his head north and also waited. Dene followed their example, gazing past the straight road being illuminated by lightstones on the ground where the road met the grass.


    She did it for a couple of minutes before growing bored. Unbelievably, she missed the boy''s non-stop talking. At least she had learned a few things with it.


    Looking back at him, she studied his features. He had short, golden blonde hair along with big, brown eyes. 11, maybe 12 years old. He was dressed in black pants and shirt with a white collar and cuffs. The clothes didn''t have any fine embroidering or jewelry, but she did notice a little pair of round, golden cufflinks.


    She also noticed another thing. All this time, she had seen the boy as a nuisance at best, or her captor''s helper at worst, when he had been nothing but friendly towards her. He probably didn''t even understand what this trip was about.


    "Hey," she said to the boy who turned to looks back at her, "what''s your name?".


    "Oh, I''m Henri, Miss. Henri Jacques Lavoie."


    "That''s a nice name," she said actually meaning it, though the names were foreign to her, "I''m Dene Yao."


    "Nice to meet you, Miss Yao."


    From there they started talking. Both of them, instead of mostly Henri as before. She also tried to get more information about where they were, and where she was going.


    Outside, the knight turned his head to see the two talking but didn''t say anything. Noting the knight''s not telling them to stop, they kept their conversation while the guards didn''t dare to say anything, as the knight himself didn''t say anything.


    This went on for a few more minutes when Dene then saw a carriage pulled by two horses coming through the north gate. Following the illuminated road, it came to a stop about a dozen steps away from them. The door opened and came out two guards in plate armor flanking a middle-aged blonde dressed in a bright red dress with a single golden necklace around her neck.


    "Greetings Lisian friends," she spoke with a well-practiced smile, "it''s a pleasure to meet you on this night."


    "The pleasure is mine, Madam." The knight replied with a bow.


    They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then knight handed her a sealed letter and then spoke to the inside of the litter, "Please come out Miss Yao. You too, Henri."


    It was no doubt an order but was still much better from the way the guards treated her.


    Dene followed the boy out and stood with him beside the knight or Monsieur Duval as Henri told her. His full plate armor was completely white, save for a golden ring over the heart. He wasn''t wearing a helmet and had a bald head that shined almost as much as his armor.


    For a brief moment, while walking towards him, she looked into his eyes and he looked back. It didn''t have the guards hostility nor Henri''s friendliness. It was stern and unwavering. The man had received his orders, and he would follow them.


    The woman, on the other hand, showed a look of contempt for a brief moment before returning to her practiced smile."Let''s go meet his Grace then." she said, then walked back with her guards towards the carriage.


    The Duval knight followed, though not before ordering the guards to watch over Gale and the litter. This made them unhappy, but they didn''t dare complain. Dene felt a tiny bit better knowing they wouldn''t have what they wanted.


    She and Henri followed Duval inside of the carriage. Not like she had any choice really. The knight, as well as the woman''s guards,were all Paladins while she was just a Crusader. They''d be able to catch her easily if she tried to escape. And even if she managed to, where would she go?


    The carriage had two large seats facing one another, each large enough for three people. The woman sat flanked by her two guards on one with her in the middle. Dene, Duval, and Henri sat on the other in that order.


    Everyone inside, the coachman turned the carriage around, passing over the grass in the process, and they left north towards the castle.


    The blonde and the bald maintained some small talk, while the guards kept silent. Dene and Henri didn''t dare to talk and just kept silent, looking out through their respective windows. while still inside the academy grounds, she could see a brightly illuminated ballroom in the distance where people celebrated.


    Leaving the academy and onto the streets, there were similar scenes as people danced, drank and had fun. ''They must take these tournaments seriously.'' She thought.


    Slowly going through the crowded streets, they finally arrived at the castle she had seen from above. They rode through the road cutting the courtyard and reached the great hall where they disembarked. The place was filled with carriages coming in and out, but they were still able to disembark practically in front of the building.


    Duval walked at the front alongside the woman, with Henri following closely behind. Dene came at the end, flanked by the two Paladin guards. They briefly stopped so that the woman could talk to a man, who then headed inside. They waited a few moments and went in.


    Passing through the hall''s wide doors, Dene was greeted to a lavish sight. Attendants moved through the crowd, serving drinks to nobles dressed in jewels and brightly colored clothes. Along the rectangular building walls'', tables filled with more food than these people could hope to consume in a whole day.


    In the center of the hall, an ensemble played some sort of wooden string instrument that produced a high-pitched sound.


    The walls up high were lined with little lightstones, which coupled with the bigger ones on the crystal chandelier, made it seem like it was daytime inside the hall.


    The place was clearly only meant for such events though. Windows began at chest height and reached close to the two stories tall ceiling. The doors were made of well carved, but non-resistant wood. It wasn''t even connected to the central keep.


    Trying to defend such a place would be a joke. It''s only saving grace was not being built of wood, or else invaders could just set it on fire and watch those inside burning to death.


    She only took a few steps inside before a loud voice echoed through the place, "Sir Martin Duval bringing gifts from Crown Prince Louis of Lisbleus!" She turned towards the source of the voice and found the same man whom the blonde woman had stopped to talk to.


    Noticing her confusion, Henri approached and whispered, "That''s the Herald, he announces the arrival of important guests."


    ''What a stupid job.'' she thought.


    Following the Herald''s announcement, people turned to look at them ¡ªmostly the foreign knight and the tall dark skinned woman¡ª studying their faces, clothes, jewelry, posture and every other detail they could find.


    Dene felt naked despite the gorgeous green dress she was in.


    The group made their way through the crowd to the other side of the great hall. Standing a full head taller than the average noble, she was able to see every corner of it.


    They were heading towards a cluster of nobles. A middle-aged couple was the focus of attention among them, along with a young man close to her age, maybe a couple of years younger.


    The middle-aged couple was most likely the Duke and his wife while the third one their son maybe?


    The young man had a wine glass in his hand that he periodically brought to his lips in between furtive glances to the side.


    She followed his gaze and found a similar cluster of nobles near one of the food tables. But where the couple had been surrounded by men and women of various ages, this one was comprised solely of young ladies. Donning beautiful dresses coupled with glittering earrings and necklaces, these women vied for a young man''s attention.


    His features looked quite familiar. She quickly made the connection to the man who was with the Duke. ''Brothers, maybe?'' she wondered, ''Definitely related.''


    He talked to the young women and seemed to do it politely, but even Dene and from a distance could see he didn''t feel comfortable being there. Discreetly, he would take a couple of steps to a side, and the aggregation would do the same, keeping him surrounded. She couldn''t help drawing comparisons to a band of predators surrounding their prey, ready to pounce.


    As if looking for help, he cast discreet looks around. That''s when their eyes met. A pair of deep green eyes full of life. It made her feel a bit like when she gazed at the seemingly endless fields of grass she saw while flying here.


    She quickly turned her gaze forward, not wanting to draw even more attention to herself, but the arrow had already been loosened.


    While she turned her gaze, he would time and again turn to look at this tall, foreign woman with dark skin and very short hair.


    Following behind Duval, Henri and the blonde, Dene finally reached the Duke. The blonde woman introduced the knight and his young page to her lord, then handed him the sealed letter.


    He and his son nearby had some similarities, most noteworthy being their green eyes. They seemed sterile and unpleasant. Especially the son''s, he looked at her with a mix of contempt, hunger, and inebriation. She definitely didn''t like it.


    The Duke opened the letter, glazed over its contents ¡ªraising an eyebrow in the process¡ª, then handed it to his wife who also read and later stowed the letter inside the sleeve of her dress. Signaling towards Dene with his eyes he ordered the woman "Just leave her in the kitchen, for now, I''ll deal with it later," and dismissed her.


    She did a curtsy, signaled to the guards then walked towards a door at the hall''s back. Each guard grabbed an arm then conducted/forced Dene to follow.


    They went through the wooden door, a somewhat long corridor, another wooden door and they were in the kitchen. It was filled with people working, even though the food outside was already too much. Some looked at her, but quickly continued their cooking, too busy to stop.


    The blonde grabbed a stool, placed it on the most isolated corner and the guards forced Dene to sit.


    "Now," the woman spoke bringing her face close to Dene''s, "you''ll stay put and behave. Cause any trouble and there''ll be consequences. Am I clear?"


    Dene''s reply was a sharp stare back that was met with an equally sharp slap across her face.


    "Am.I.Clear?" the woman asked again.


    Her face was still close. Dene fought the urge to do like her father and bite off the nose of this sandy-haired bitch.Finally, she answered, "...yes..."


    "Good," she stepped back, told the soldiers "keep watch over her," and left.


    The kitchen staff had turned to look after the slap but quickly returned to their duties. Guards stayed by their side without talking, leaving Dene with her thoughts.


    Her left side of her face was throbbing. She kept her head down for a few minutes before looking up and around the kitchen, at the workers running around to make expensive food, to nobles who wouldn''t eat it.


    Would this be her new life? Just a couple of months ago she was a proud warrior princess of one of the most powerful tribes. Their tribe was quickly achieving dominance of lesser tribes, with plans to become the hegemon of the desert.


    And now she would become a servant. Could her life sink any further?


    That''s when five noblemen came through the door, at the front was the Duke''s son who had been previously drinking by the man''s side. He looked around and his eyes immediately landed on her, bringing a sinister smile to his face.


    "I want everyone out," he said in a loud voice, "Now!"


    Not daring to disobey, the staff promptly abandoned what they were doing and left. The same for the guards, who were ordered to stay outside and not let anyone in.


    There were only Dene and the five of them left.


    She immediately stood up, putting her back close to a counter. On top of it was a freshly baked pie that the baker had just finished, along with the knife he was using to slice it. Placing her hand behind her body, she grabbed the knife in a reverse grip, hiding the weapon behind her forearm.


    "Now," the Duke''s son spoke, ignorant to her action, "you already know what''s going to happen, so why don''t you come here and make it easier for everyone?"


    Dene seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before slowly making her way towards the noblemen, and the door they were blocking.


    She was unable to cast spells with the triotium collar around her neck. Fortunately, only one of the men was an Archmage so this would be decided on physical combat.


    She was a 4th stage Crusader, the strongest among them, but not enough to make up a difference of 5 vs 1. Her enemies were all Crusaders like her, save for one. The Duke''s son at 3rd stage, three of his followers were at the 2nd stage and the last one ¡ªthe Archmage¡ª was a 10th stage Fighter. He would be the first.


    She had to make the most of ser surprise attack, take out as many as possible and run through the door while they were still startled¡­ no. The guards were still outside. Even in full plate armor, she wasn''t sure if it was possible to outrun them. Even if she did, there was still a room full of other northerners to worry about.


    Dene had already covered half the distance and didn''t have a feasible plan. She needed something to prevent them from trying to stop her, that would make them unwilling to try...


    A hostage!


    Having decided on what to do, she finally reached her target.


    "Isn''t it much better when they cooperate?" he joked, eliciting chuckles from his followers. "Alright, I''ll go first," he said while struggling to unbuckle his pants "then-"


    He didn''t manage to finish his sentence, as that was when Dene attacked.


    She slashed the Archmage''s throat followed by kicking another one away, which impulsed her towards a third whose neck she plunged the knife into. The one she kicked had fallen to the ground and wasn''t up yet.


    She had to go fast, only the Leader and one more noble thug left. She rushed towards this last thug but changed directions in the last moment going towards her intended target. She could see the panic in the eyes of the Duke''s son and then she could see nothing.


    A flash of light hit her face and she was blinded. The Archmage! But how? He should be bleeding on the floor. No time to find out. She tried grabbing forward and hopefully touch her target, but found nothing. A direct blow from behind and she fell to the floor. Another to her hand and the knife was no longer with her.


    When Dene was able to see again, she laid a few feet from the door, pinned down to the ground by the two uninjured lackeys. From the corner of her eye, she saw the Archmage kneeling over the man whose neck she pierced.


    His neck had a wide scar where she had slashed, but that was it. He was casting a spell, hoping to do finish it before his companion bled out.


    The last of the five ¡ªher intended hostage¡ª was the only one on his feet.


    "My lord?" A voice came from outside. One of the guards.


    "Everything is fine," he answered, "just a little mishap." He then looked back at her. Gone was the panic, in its place anger and shame over almost being beaten. "You''ll pay for that."


    The Archmage finished his spell and warm light enveloped the bleeding man''s wound. It was gone after a couple of seconds, a wide scar all that was left.


    Dene didn''t understand. Light magic could heal? She struggled to free herself, but to no avail.


    By now the Archmage was on his feet, as was the just healed man. Both of them had the scars from where the knife slashed and pierced respectively.


    "Hold the legs," the leader ordered them.


    Dene still tried to fight back, kicking at them. A punch to the head by one of the men pinning her down left the southerner dazed. The other two took this chance to hold and spread her legs, leaving each of them in charge of a limb with the Duke''s son free to do what he wanted.


    Unable to move, she did the only thing available to her.


    She screamed.


    And nothing happened.


    "You know," he said, recovering the sinister smile he had before, "we were just gonna have our fun and be done," he grabbed the knife she had used from the ground, "but now. Now you''re gonna suffer."


    Standing over her, he used the knife to cut open the front of her dress, then the bra, fully exposing her breasts. She screamed, which only seemed to make them more excited.


    "Yeah, scream bitch!" one of them taunted, followed by a direct punch to her unprotected stomach, "see what good that''ll do you."


    She struggled to breathe while holding back the bile that threatened to come. Another punch ¡ªthis time to the mouth¡ª and she could taste metal, along with swallowing one of her teeth. It became even harder to breathe.


    The Duke''s son positioned himself in between her legs, cutting open the lower part of her dress and ripping off her panties. Then he once again began unbuckling his pants. This time it was quick, and before long his pants were down to his knees.


    ''No, no, NO!'' She pleaded in her mind, eyes watering up. The southerner screamed for the third time, but this time something happened.


    "Out of my way, now!" a male voice bellowed from outside. Next thing she knew, the kitchen''s door was kicked open. The Archmage who had his back to the door was pushed forward, falling on top of the Duke''s son and just as importantly; freeing her right leg.


    Dene immediately pulled her now free leg back, knee almost touching her nose, then kicked down, with all her strength, towards the would-be rapist''s exposed groin. It was his time to scream. It was his time to cry.


    Startled, the other one holding her leg let go, while whoever kicked the door fell upon the man holding her right arm. Only her other arm left.


    Different from his companions, the last man refused to release her. Holding her arm with one hand, he punched down at her head. Dene moved it to the side, the punch hit the floor and she heard the sound of bone breaking.


    He wouldn''t leave with just a broken hand though. As he kept her grip around her arm, Dene grabbed his head with her free hand. The fingertips reached the back of the skull while the thumb crushed his eye. This time he let go of her.


    He tumbled backward and she was free. The southerner grabbed the knife once again and got up, fighting against the sharp pain from her bruises and the lack of air.


    The Duke''s son was curled up in a fetal position. The one-eyed man was also on the ground, contorting in pain with a hand to the head. The Archmage had started a spell chant, most likely to heal one of them, forgetting there was an enemy nearby.


    She once again kicked with all her strength, once again there was the sound of bone breaking and the Archmage was thrown backward, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.


    "Heal that you bastard!" she cried out, then turned her attention to the leader. She gave him another kick for good measure and he passed out for a moment. Dene was about to stab her knife at him when she was violently pushed. The guards.


    They had been at the door, watching the fight. Afraid of punishments if they interfered and also if they didn''t, neither one knew what to do. But when they saw her kill one of the nobles, the duo knew they had to act.


    Dene hit the wall with a loud thud, and this time wasn''t able to hold back the vomit, falling to her knees while expelling bile and a single tooth.


    They then rushed to separate the two who were still fighting.


    Having emptied the contents of her stomach, she struggled to get up, leaning on the same counter from where she grabbed the knife. The southerner looked around the kitchen.


    Of the five who tried to assault her. One laid dead. Two were on the floor, wounded quite badly. The fourth one also had some wounds from fighting whoever kicked open the door. And the fifth one wasn''t wounded, but his legs shook too much for him to stand up.


    The battered and light-headed Dene started laughing almost maniacally, "Who''s the bitch now, bitches!?"


    The soldiers clearly didn''t like the comment, but when they moved to silence the still laughing woman a voice ordered, "Stand down!"


    Although it was meant to the two soldiers, it also made her stop for different reasons. It was the same voice as the man who kicked the door.


    She looked towards the source and was met with a pair of deep green eyes staring at her. The same eyes from the man who was previously trying to escape from a band of women. And also related to the man who tortured and almost raped her.


    His clothes were a bit messed up, one of the sleeves partially ripped from the elbow below, but he didn''t appear bruised. He turned towards the guard closest to the door and ordered, "Angela is at the hall with father. Bring her here."


    "My lord-" he attempted to object and was immediately shut out.


    "Now!"


    Not daring to linger the man rushes outside. He returns some minutes later with ¡ªto Dene''s surprise¡ª the same blonde who slapped her previously.


    "By the holy flame!" she was appalled, "what happened here?" That''s when her gaze fell on the dead body, and she showed a look of shock. "Heddwyn!" She knelt close to the body, knowing full well that there was nothing to be done.


    Seeing her distress immediately brought a smile to the southerner''s face. A bloodied and missing one tooth, smile. Angela looked around for the culprit and her gaze fell on the only other woman in there. The look of contempt she showed before leaving was replaced by hate. "You! What did you do you animal!?"


    Once again, the man stood up for the southerner, "She is not an animal! Miss killed your student in self-defense after he almost violated her honor."


    "Stop lying," came a labored voice from the floor, "look at what that thing did to me. It hit me with a low blow... killed Heddwyn while he tried to help me... then hit me again when I was already down." The leader of the would-be rapists spoke in between gasps for air, still curled on the floor. "That beast has no honor, and I order it to be executed!"


    "Your orders mean shit in front of me, and if you keep this up I''ll kick you myself!"


    He tried to protest, but when his older brother threatened to come closer he finally stopped. "I''m telling Mother," was all he dared to say.


    "Yeah, you do that," then ignoring the pathetic excuse for a man he had as a brother he turned back to Angela, "Now, you can report it all to father after the guests have left. But for now, I called you here for a reason," he pointed at Dene and said, "help her."


    Angela showed a defiant look for a second but didn''t try to argue. She knew there was no use to when he got like this. The blonde wordlessly got in front of her new sworn enemy. Her hands became enveloped in a warm light which she used to mend the injuries. They were either internal bleedings or fractured bones.


    Dene was all too glad for the silence. As her body started to relax after avoiding the worst of the traumatic experience, emotions that got temporarily suppressed came rushing back in. Most specifically, fear.


    "It''s done," she curtly said and went to take care of the other wounded. As the blonde walked away, the young lord approached, handing her a white tablecloth while looking to the sides, trying not to gaze at her body.


    Dene''s green dress was being held solely by a strip of cloth around the navel, leaving all the private parts exposed.


    She took the tablecloth and wrapped it around her body, if not for common decency, then for the chilliness which increased every second.


    "Please come with me," he said then walked out of the kitchen, Dene following behind.


    She was in there for an hour at most, but it felt like an eternity.


    They were in the corridor that led to where the party was being held, but instead of keeping going, they turned a right, went through another wooden door and were in the courtyard.


    Dene was glad for the tablecloth, as she otherwise wouldn''t be able to withstand the cold winds.


    Paying less and less attention to her surroundings, she simply focused on following the man who helped her so much tonight. They walked in silence, both with too much on their minds.


    She recorded going through corridors and climbing some stairs, but that was it. Before long they were inside a large, lavish bedroom, with a large bed and¡­ other luxurious things. The bed was what she was mostly focusing on. She was too tired.


    The man was walking around searching for something, opening drawers, looking inside the wardrobe, under his bed, all the while muttering to himself "Where did I put it?"


    Just like she had cooled down, he too seemed to have lost the fire he demonstrated at the previous conflict.


    Dene tried to keep herself awake by talking. She asked where they were and he responded it was his bedroom, which caused her to take an involuntary step back and tighten her grip on the tablecloth.


    Noticing the fear creeping back into her, he quickly explained himself, "Oh no, it''s not like that. It''s to protect you. I''m sure that after what happened, my brother won''t let things be¡­ bee!" Remembering something, he walked toward a ceramic flower vase over the nightstand beside the bed. He removed the flowers and shoved his hand inside. When he took it out, it held a pair of keys.


    "Sorry for that. As I was saying, I doubt my brother will let things be after what happened. But I won''t let him."He showed her a warm smile and continued, "don''t worry, you''re safe here."


    ''Sure I am,'' she thought sarcastically recording what had almost just transpired.


    Ignorant to her thoughts, he then went towards a corner table near the door where sat a lidded serving tray platter. The nobleman removed the lid, revealing it to be filled with food. He ate a couple of fish sticks, grabbed a large turkey thigh and put the lid back. He then tried handing the tray to her with no success.


    "Take it, you must be hungry after everything. No need to worry about me, I can always ask the servants to bring me more."


    But still, she didn''t take it, looking back at him as if the reason was obvious. He began worrying that she didn''t like the food when he then remembered the tablecloth. Her hands were busy holding it closed.


    "Oh right, forgot that," he then took the pair of keys and unlocked a door directly in front of the bed. Inside was another bedroom, though much smaller in size. "This is a bedroom for personal servants, though I''ve never had a use for them, so it remained empty. So you can sleep here."


    Putting the platter over the bed, he then infused mana at the single lightstone up on the wall, then pointed to the wardrobe, "There are some clothes in there, but I don''t know if there''s anything your size. If nothing fits, I can call the tailor tomorrow. I''ll need to ask him to fix this anyway," he said lifting his arm and showing the partially ripped sleeve.


    "Unfortunately, I don''t think your dress can be saved. It was certainly pretty. Anyways, about these keys. There are only these two, so you have to take care of them. This first one opens the door to my bedroom, while the other opens that door that goes to the corridor. Also, if you need a bath you can take the leftmost door in my bedroom. That''s the bathroom is there, and the water is periodically swapped by the servants."


    "I guess that''s all. If you need anything, just call me."


    She nodded, and he turned to leave. Remembering something she said, "wait," and he looked back.


    "Thank you for helping me, I hate to think of what would''ve happened if you didn''t."


    "You''re welcome, but no need to thank me. I just did what I thought was right."


    "Even so, I still want to thank you. I''m Dene by the way¡­ Dene Yao."


    "Oh, nice to meet you Dene. I''m Jonathan. Jonathan Olsen..."


    Having introduced themselves, Jonathan then left, leaving Dene alone in the smaller bedroom. The first thing she did was to lock the doors.


    Having done that, she then dropped the tablecloth, ripped out the last part of her dress and sat on the bed. She should go take a bath, but was too exhausted and famished for that.


    The southerner opened the lid, and grabbed a few bites of the food, then closed it again and placed it over a small center desk. Finally, she threw herself in bed and fell asleep.


    --------


    Dene woke up startled from a nightmare. A nightmare where she was still on that kitchen floor, no one coming to help her.


    She double checked the locks then pushed the wardrobe to block the door to the corridor. Then the bed to block the other one. Then she went back to sleep.

 22 First morning

    It wasn''t an easy sleep, however, as every little noise wake her up. And then every time she would double check the locks on the doors, losing precious minutes of sleep every time.


    Even so, her fatigue was slowly fading away and another feeling was taking root. Or rather it was there since the previous night but had been ignored in favor of her fatigue. Her body ached all over, especially the places that had been healed and should no longer hurt. ''That bitch must have somehow botched the healing,'' Dene deduced.


    She wasn''t really aware of a way to fake a healing. But then again, up until last night, she also wasn''t aware of a way to heal with light.


    The southerner wasn''t sure how long she had slept, but it was clear the pain wouldn''t allow her to fall back asleep. Furthermore, she had to go out and get an idea of her new situation.


    Kneeling over the bed¨Cwhich still blocked the door¨C she brought her face to the keyhole. Nothing. She waited for a couple of minutes, but nothing changed.


    She then got up from the bed and headed to the wardrobe ¨Cwhich was blocking the other door¨C and took a pair of male pants and a shirt. She could''ve taken a dress, but felt safer with a pair of pants.


    The shirt was clearly too large, but she had to choose between too large or too short. With the pants though, the choice wasn''t even there. She settled for a pair of baggy, beige pants, too short to go past her ankles.


    She finalized it with a pair of comfortable shoes


    Dene then went back to the keyhole, watched for a few more minutes without movements outside and finally decided to leave.


    As noiselessly as possible, she moved the bed away from the door. It wasn''t hard, being such low quality. She then slowly turned the key and unlocked the door.


    Having opened it, the southerner immediately felt a drop in temperature. Somehow the main bedroom was colder than the one she slept in. It wasn''t uncomfortable though.


    Better rested compared to last night, she took a better look at the room. The carpet was a deep red, same for the canopy of the large bed. There was also the large wooden wardrobe, one nightstand on each side of the bed, some landscape paintings over the walls and a center table.


    Besides the door to the bedroom where she slept, there were three other doors.


    To her left, at another wall was the door to the main corridor. To her right was the one to the washroom which Jonathan told her about yesterday. And further away, at another wall, was an open door to what seemed to be a balcony and a sunny day.


    Before going to the balcony, she decided to check the center table. Over it were a small wood box, a corked glass bottle with some green liquid and another lidded tray. She had a suspicion and sure enough, the lidded tray carried more food.


    Grabbing the glass bottle, Dene uncorked it and took a sniff of the green liquid. She wasn''t sure but guessed it to be an analgesic. Decided to find out she dipped the tip of her pinky finger on it and brought it to her mouth. It wasn''t long before her tongue became slightly numb.


    Corking the bottle once again, she put it back where it was. Its contents could help her with the pain, but would also make her more sluggish, something the southerner couldn''t accept.


    The last item on the table was the small box. She checked it for traces of mana, but it was a simple wooden box. Inside of it was a single incisor tooth. Her tooth. The blood and bile had been washed off, and now it sat there in front of her.


    Unless the noble planned on having a healer reimplant it, she didn''t know what it was for.


    After putting the box back on the table, Dene silently made her way to the balcony.


    It had a rectangular shape and was about the same size as the servant''s bedroom. A waist-high, white metal railing enclosed the platform and beyond it, she could see as many buildings as there were trees in the forest. On the walls were four, still lit lightstones, arranged in a line and at equal distances from one another. From a few feet above it extended a white awning which cast a shade over the whole balcony.


    Finally, there were some cushioned stretchers. At the rightmost one was the sleeping Jonathan, a book spread open over his face.


    Although the face was blocked, she recognized him by the clothes. The same he was wearing the night before. Inching closer, she was able to read the book''s title.


    "The southern continent. Remains of the Ryk empire" by Manuel Camara da N¨®brega.


    The first thing which came to her mind was that Ryk already meant empire in the old tongue of the desert. Calling it Ryk empire effectively means empire empire.


    The old desert empire ¨Cthe same one her father had hoped to one day bring back¨C was called RyknRyk. It meant empire of empires, and such things were basic knowledge to basically every southerner.


    On the stretcher next to the sleeping man were a couple more books. Dene read their titles.


    One read, "The desert tribes and their power structure" while the other was, "A study on the religions and customs of the desert people."


    Dene felt a bit happy that the noble was trying to know more about her culture. But if the first book''s title was anything to go by, then these books would have some glaring mistakes.


    Deciding to find out by herself, she grabbed one of the books over the stretcher and headed to the other side of the balcony. That''s when she found another book. This one laid open on the floor, behind the leftmost stretcher. That''s why she didn''t see it before. It''s leather spine had a large nick in it which coincided with the metal railing.


    Jonathan must have hurled it across the balcony, it hit the railing and feel there. Reading its title she could see why.


    "The Soot people, demons from the desert" by Fire Priest Maximilian.


    A knock on the door called her to attention. It came from the door separating the bedroom and the main corridor. Dene considered answering it, but she didn''t know who it could be. For all she knew, it could be Jonathan''s brother, that Angela or any number of people sent by those two.


    Making up her mind, she lightly nudged Jonathan on the shoulder, waking him up. He took the book off his face revealing his disheveled hair and some dark circles under his eyes.


    "Yes?" The groggy and yawning man asked while rubbing his eyes.


    "There''s someone at the door."


    The young noble then opened his eyes in surprise. Not because of what was said, but because of who did it. "Miss Dene, you''re awake," he said before sitting up. He tried to straighten his hair and wipe the dry drool from the edge of his lips.


    There was another knock at the door.


    "Oh right, the door," he quickly got up, bumped his shoulder against the doorway, ignored it and crossed the bedroom to answer the door.


    Dene followed a few steps behind him. He opened the door to reveal a young woman with black hair, dressed in a maid uniform. She bowed with both hands together in front of her body and spoke, "My Lord, your Grace asks for your presence in the audience room. Your guest''s presence is also requested."


    "Thank you, Agnes-" the young noble paused, trying to stifle a yawn before continuing, "tell father that we''ll be there in a few minutes."


    "Yes, my Lord," she bowed once again and left.


    He closed the door and turned back to Dene. "You must still be tired, but unfortunately we can''t keep father waiting."


    Dene just nodded, ignoring the protests from her body.


    Jonathan grabbed some food from the tray and, as if reading her mind, he asked her, "Is your body aching too much? There''s an analgesic potion if you want."


    Dene declined with a shake of her head. Then remembering something she asks, "That bi- Angela¡­ healed me yesterday. Why would it still hurt?"


    He looked at her, not quite sure how to answer. To him, it was one of those things so obvious he didn''t think much about. He grabbed the small box from the center table and told her, "Well, she used light magic so it was to be expected."


    She still didn''t understand.


    With the box in hands, Jonathan opened the door to the outside for her. Soon they were walking through a corridor with a long red carpet fully covering the ground, just as his bedroom. They went down two flights of stairs and another corridor while he tried to explain it to her.


    "Well, light healing is different from water healing. We usually call it ''light mending'' because it doesn''t totally heal, that''s why you must be feeling some pain. If you break a bone, for example, water healing will make it the just as before breaking. Light mending, on the other hand, can only set the bone straight and hold it together, but it''s still broken. Yesterday our healer wasn''t here, so you had to make do with light mending."


    Dene nodded, finally understanding. That Angela had not botched the healing, though she was sure the blonde would do it if she could. "So, water healing is always better than light mending?"


    "When comparing just the results? Yes. But there are other things to consider, especially when in battle. Time to cast and mana cost can''t be ignored, and mending comes out ahead in these aspects."


    The duo stopped walking. They stood in front of a large double door. The two Paladins standing in front of it just bowed to the young noble.


    "Are you okay?" Jonathan asked and received another nod as an answer. Then he signaled to the Paladins and they opened the doors.

 23 Judgmen

    One more late and late night chapter.


    This chapter doesn''t have as many words as "Windows to the soul" ¡ª 3.5k against the previous 5.1k¡ª, but it still took me a lot longer than expected. I guess we''ve all learned that I suck at planning. Whenever I give a time frame from now on, add a few days just to be on the safe side.


    -----


    Before walking forward, Jonathan asked her to let him do the talking and she nodded. She doubted that they would take her words seriously anyway.


    Dene followed him into the audience room. A single glance and she took note of all of those present. Not because it was small, but because it was relatively empty.


    From a rough estimate, she concluded it could comfortably house upwards of a hundred people. The southerner counted nine. She recognized all of them.


    Standing on the floor, Jonathan''s brother talked to his group from the night before. Minus the broke neck Heddwyn.


    As they entered, his gaze fell upon her, naked hatred in his eyes. Like his older brother, he also had dark circles under his eyes. Different from Jonathan though, he was slouching, still feeling the aftermath of her kicks no doubt.


    Dene could understand herself not getting healed, as Jonathan was the only one who treated her well, and one man can only do so much. What she didn''t comprehend was why his brother hadn''t been healed, especially for such a thing.


    Whatever the reason though, it brought a not so involuntary sneer to her face, which only worked to increase his anger.


    Besides him and the other three, there were also the two Paladin guards from yesterday. And upon the staired dais, Duke and Duchess sat on their respective thrones. Angela stood by the Duke''s throne, talking to him.


    Jonathan and his brother inherited most of their features from the father. Green eyes, chestnut hair, athletic builds and tall. Tall for northerners at least. Jonathan seemed to be the best one in this aspect and he still tilted his head upwards to gaze at Dene''s eyes.


    Save for the square jaw, the siblings didn''t take after their mother at all. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders, and big brown eyes turned to look at Dene. The distaste for the dark-skinned woman was better concealed on the older woman''s face, but still there.


    Dene followed Jonathan until they were side by side directly in front of the dais. The last people having arrived, the Duke signaled and Angela stepped down from the dais so that she stood to the left of the hall. From the frown on his face, it was clear how much he didn''t want to be there right now. With a sigh, he spoke, "Miss Grant, what''s the first item for the day?"


    Angela stepped forward and began her speech, "My Lord, on the grounds of this castle, a vicious crime took place. Last night, Heddwyn Bankes, son to Earl Bankes of Wesford, was cowardly murdered." Pointing to Dene, she continued, "The culprit also attempted murder against four other highborn, among which was young Lord Richard Olsen, whom she left gravely injured."


    She had barely finished when someone cried out, "I want her executed!"


    Jonathan immediately told his brother to shut up. Then turning to his father he asked, "Why is Miss Dene even under judgment? She is the victim here."


    Richard once again demanded an execution, calling her a whore in the process and soon the two brothers were arguing.


    "Silence!" The Duke closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. That''s exactly why he didn''t want to be doing this.


    If Richard had assaulted some random lowborn woman, then he would just sweep it under the rug. Had the woman been dark-skinned, there wouldn''t even be a need to cover it up. And had any of them been hurt by the said woman, then she would be punished.


    But for some reason his favorite son decided he had to defend this soot skin woman. making matters worse, she even managed to kill a noble.


    Now he had to find a solution that pleased his two sons, as well as his wife who wanted the woman''s death for hurting one of her children. Not enough, he also had to take into consideration Angela, Earl Bankes and the other nobles under himself, to whom the news would undoubtedly leak.


    At the same time yesterday he had been celebrating while a perfect storm started taking shape over his head. The Duke sighed for the second time and addressed Jonathan''s protest, "Although it isn''t clear what exactly happened yesterday, it''s undeniable that the desert woman killed a noble. The case has to be judged, and I''ll determine if she is guilty or not."


    Wanting to end this as soon as possible, he called the two Paladin guards forward to give their testimonies. Then came Jonathan, Richard and each of his followers. Angela also gave her account, though it had less value as she came back to the kitchen after the fight ended.


    Dene, the central figure in the case, wasn''t called to speak, a fact that didn''t go unnoticed. Jonathan protested and the Duke brushed it off saying it wasn''t needed, seeing as everyone had given practically the same account of the event. And, surprisingly, that was true.


    Jonathan looked at Dene and she just nodded. There really wasn''t anything she could add. Richard himself told what happened as if there wasn''t anything wrong in his actions, which made the southerner wonder if he and Jonathan were really related.


    Having heard ¡ªalmost¡ª all involved parties, the Duke gave his judgment. "The desert woman, Dene, undeniably took the life of a noble, a crime punishable by death. However, given that the accused did so under duress, the death penalty shall not be used and she will be sentenced to flogging no less than-"


    He didn''t get to finish. Unwilling to accept what was happening, Richard and his mother both argued. Jonathan didn''t say a word, but it was clear he didn''t accept it either.


    The Duke''s attempt to finding a middle ground displeased everyone.


    While his brother and mother protested, Jonathan walked to one of the guards and reached for the man''s scabbard. The man didn''t dare to stop him.


    With a mix of anger and indignation plastered on his face, the young Lord walked back to the front of the dais, his actions finally being noticed.


    His mother stopped arguing and looked at him. Already knowing the answer, but not daring to believe it, she asked: "Son, what are you doing?"


    With the weapon in hands, he answered, "I refuse to recognize this sentence. If Miss Dene was highborn it would be Richard and his accomplices who would be under judgment." He proceeded to unsheathe the sword and put its blade against the palm of his hand. "I demand a trial by com-"


    "Stop!" "Stop him!" both parents cried out before he could spill his blood.


    One guard rushed for the sword while the other held his hands.


    Jonathan himself was just a Crusader, so the two Paladins disarmed him without much effort.


    Even without a weapon, he remained defiant, looking straight into his father''s eyes.


    The Duke leaned back into his throne, put a hand to his forehead and sighed once again. Dene was sure she heard a cuss under his breath. She wasn''t the only one.


    He remained like that for a good half a minute before ultimately conceding, "Fine, you win. I declare the deser- Miss Dene¡­ not guilty."


    In the blink of an eye, Jonathan went from silent, righteous anger to a jubilant child. He had a smile from ear to ear and looked ready to give Dene a hug, but held himself back.


    The Duchess''s relief won over her wish to see Dene punished. It wouldn''t be worth it if her son was willing to go that far to protect the desert woman. Her husband didn''t move. He was tired.


    Angela was far from happy with the decision. Unfortunately for her, there was nothing she could do.


    The only one who spoke out against it was Richard. That got his father to move. He berated his son for the problems he caused, ordered him to be confined to his bedchambers and to remain without healing. The two guards dragged the screeching noble away while his followers left the hall, afraid to speak out.


    The matter was resolved, but Jonathan remained there, same as his father.


    The middle-aged man wanted nothing more than to laze in bed for the rest of the day, but there was still an important matter on the agenda. Something that could affect the balance of power between the four kingdoms.


    Straightening himself in the throne he told Angela to hand them the letter that was brought yesterday by the Duval Knight.


    Jonathan started reading it before remembering something. He approached Dene and held the letter so both of them could read it.


    It read:


    "To your Grace, Duke of The Great Plains and brother of the faith.


    Year 7,852 AU, Day 13 of the 1st moon of summer.


    Greetings to House Olsen and the free people of The Great Plains. As your Grace is well aware, much blood has been spilled by our ancestors so that we could call ourselves free. Even after achieving independence, the four kingdoms have always remained in a tenuous peace with our former occupiers, the Solis Empire.


    We all know that, under the surface, they continue to plot for the destruction of our Houses, the enslavement of our people and the abolishing of our faith! But the Holy Flame is strong and wise, and one night, it came to me with a mission.


    In a dream, it told me of a place at the deserts to the south. There, it told me, I would find the key to defending our lands. So I gathered the armies and marched south, subjugating every soot demon in my way until reaching my final destination. There, I found a particularly strong tribe of demons. They called themselves Yao.


    The battle was long and bloody. The False Flame stood strong with its minions, determined to keep us away from the promised land. Dark clouds blocked the sun, turning day into night and making the demons even stronger.


    One after the other, our soldiers fell and all seemed lost. But at the darkest hour, the Holy Flame came to our rescue. A mighty voice reverberated through the battlefield and told us that the faithful would prevail.


    The clouds moved and a single ray of sunlight fell upon me. The demons shrieked in pain while our soldiers were invigorated. I raised my sword to the skies and it ignited. The Holy Flame was with me, so I rushed towards the enemy felling any who dared to stand in my way. Before long, the clouds dissipated and the demons ran away. The day had been won.


    But my mission wasn''t over yet.


    The Holy Flame guided me deeper into the tribe. There, I found a large stairwell leading underground. As I went deeper, I could feel the concentration of mana in the air becoming thicker to a palpable degree. Finally, the stairwell came to an end, and I found myself inside a wide corridor that only got wider the further I went until it was no longer possible to see the walls.


    That was the promised land, told me the Holy Flame. With such a thick concentration of mana, it will be possible to train soldiers faster than ever before.


    In honor of my conquest over the demons, I was allowed to name the promised land. Therefore, the training grounds for the faithful shall be known, now and forever, as La Louisiane.


    Before leaving, it told me to share the news with the faithful, and that together, we shall withstand the Solis menace and remain free.


    In 3 months from the writing of this letter, I shall host a conference to decide how we will share La Louisiane, and every Great House is invited.


    As proof of the promised land''s effectiveness, I''ve sent a soot demon along with this letter. Although from such a backward and barren place as a desert, they were able to reach great heights in their cultivation thanks to La Louisiane.


    The Duke of Margandy, Crown Prince Louis."


    ¡­


    Dene could''ve gathered every chamber pot in this castle, and it still wouldn''t be a pile of crap as big as that story.


    Dark clouds in the desert?


    One single voice managing to reverberate through a battlefield?


    And what the hell is ''La Louisiane''? It was called ''Secret Realm''. That''s the name The Benefactor had given it hundreds of years ago, and that''s what her tribe had always called it.


    Jonathan finished reading shortly after her, and the Duke spoke once again. "As you can imagine, I don''t know how much of that is true. But if the place he speaks of is really so miraculous, I need to know everything about it." Then addressing her for the first time since this all began, he asked her for anything she knew about the Secret- La Louisiane. In exchange, he would allow her to remain with Jonathan as his servant.


    Dene knew that there wouldn''t be a better offer coming from him. She also knew that if he didn''t receive a satisfactory answer, he would ask again through less pleasant means, so she just nodded.


    She decided to share some basic knowledge while withholding any deeper information such as the key to the core grounds, which was embedded in her arm.


    Seeing her agree, he began by asking, "How did your tribe find this promised land?"


    "We didn''t," she answered truthfully, trying to sound as respectful as possible. "Legends say that half a millennia ago, The Benefactor descended from the sky and landed in front of he who would become the first Chief of our tribe. With a simple wave of her hand, she opened a hole on the ground and revealed the promised land, though she called it Secret Realm."


    "Is this what it''s called? Secret Realm?"


    "Yes and no. First you shou- your Grace should know that the Secret Realm isn''t a single area. After one goes down the stairs and through the corridor, they will find themselves in the outer grounds. Going deeper, there will be a gate that will lead to the inner grounds. Finally, in the inner grounds, there will be a gate that leads to the core grounds."


    "Anyone can enter the outer grounds," she continued. "To enter the inner grounds though, one must go through a trial. If one fails, they will be kicked out, but it''s possible to try as many times as one wants. There''s also a test to enter the core grounds, with one difference. Failing means death."


    "That''s good to know," the Duke noted, "but what does it have to do with the name?"


    "Well, The Benefactor said that only by entering the core grounds one will be allowed to know the true name of the Secret Realm. And up until now, no one ever managed to do it."


    "No one?" He was doubtful. Even if one would die by failing the trial, she said it herself that they knew of this Secret Realm for five hundred years. How come no one managed to pass it?


    When he made his doubts known, she answered that was because the trial was simply too hard, which was true. To pass it, The Benefactor had told them, one would need to become both a Paladin and a Warlock. Before completing 30 years of age.


    That wasn''t the whole truth, though. Even if one passed the trials, they still wouldn''t be able to enter unless they had the key. Furthermore, if one had it, they wouldn''t be killed even if they failed the trial.


    "Both? That''s impossible." He immediately dismissed the idea, sure that it couldn''t be done. He himself had become a Paladin a little after his thirties, and that was without training as a Spellcaster.


    Jonathan wasn''t so sure though. "Is it really impossible? Miss Dene seems quite young and she is already a 4th stage Crusader and a 2nd stage Archmage." He then asked her, "How old are you?" Or at least intended to. He stopped mid-sentence, remembering what his mother once told him about asking ladies their ages.


    Already understanding the question though, she answered, "I''m 21 years old."


    "I assume you''ve made use of this Secret Realm?"


    "Yes, your Grace," she answered the Duke''s question, "any promising youth would once a year be taken to train inside the Secret Realm and spend a month inside."


    "Why just one month?"


    "That''s to maintain the concentration of mana. If they let everybody cultivate inside at the same time, it would become the same as doing it outside."


    He nodded in understanding. "And I assume that the concentration of mana is bigger inside the inner grounds compared to the outer grounds."


    "Yes, your Grace, but not only that. Depending on one''s talents and elemental affinities, it''s possible to receive instructions about spells or secret techniques." That was the truth. Most of the tribe''s spell knowledge came from the inner grounds. This was also why she wasn''t aware that light element could be used to heal or, ''mend'' as Jonathan called it. Her tribe, as with most other desert tribes, had little affinity with the light element.


    She herself had even gained a secret technique: Blood magic. But the price was simply too great, so she never used it.


    "And what are the trials like?"


    "The inner grounds trials have to do with combat. To pass it, one must defeat a puppet at the same cultivation level as themselves. As for the core grounds, we suspected it to be something similar, but all who attempted it died, so we don''t know what it''s like."


    "That''s good enough," he said while rubbing his eyes, clearly getting tired. "Anything else of importance?"


    "No, your Grace. The Chief may have known more, but he was captured after the battle." She told the last part as if it didn''t tear her up inside. But for all intents and purposes, it would be better if they didn''t know he was her father.


    "Okay then, you both can go," the Duke said, dismissing the two. He also told Angela that he didn''t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day, dismissed her and stood up along his wife.


    Dene gave a sigh of relief knowing it was over for now. She was going to follow Jonathan out but he didn''t move. Instead, with his sweetest voice, he asked his father to wait.


    His father looked at him with a tired expression. Even though his mother remained displeased by his previous stunt, a little smile still managed to creep up her face.


    "You know dad, Miss Dene managed to stand against five other Crusaders and almost came out on top. Don''t you think she is a great warrior?"


    The Duke lost count of how many times he had already sighed today. With one more he answered, "Yes son, she is."


    "So, instead of being a servant, wouldn''t someone of her talents be better used as¡­ I don''t know¡­ a sparring partner for me to train with?"


    "... fine. Anything else?"


    "Well, now that you asked..." He then proceeded to arrange for her to have a salary and even some freedom so she could move inside the castle grounds, on the condition she was accompanied by guards. It may seem that the guards would be there to report everything she did to the Duke, and that was the case. Jonathan''s plan, though, was to have someone to protect her from Richard in case he wasn''t around.


    Each thing he asked was another sigh from his father and a smile from his mother.


    Dene was already happy with what he got her ¡ªor at least as happy as someone in her situation could be. But when Jonathan mentioned removing her collar, she just knew it would be refused. There''s no way that would pass. An Archmage such as herself could kill a lot of people. It even was possible to wound a Paladin such as the Duke if she had time to prepare. So of course he allowed¡­


    He allowed.


    Now she kinda wanted to know what else Jonathan could get her. If he pushed enough, maybe she would be able to finish yesterday''s job and castrate Richard.


    After agreeing to all of his son''s demands, the Duke finally drew a line, said he wouldn''t give anything else and left the hall with his now chuckling wife, giving the correct impression that he was trying to escape. Which was unnecessary given that Jonathan had already gotten everything he wanted.


    Now, Dene and Jonathan were the only ones still left.


    He looked at her with a smile on his face but turned away embarrassed once she looked back. That itself brought the first smile to her face in a long, long time. Not a sadistic one such as when she saw Angela grieving, but a genuine one.


    She looked around, making sure there was no one looking from outside. Having done that, she then wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss in his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.


    At that moment she discovered something new about the white-skinned northerners. When they blush, it shows. A lot.

 24 Learning Something

    The valiant man who stood up for her a few minutes ago as well as during the previous night disappeared. In its place was the meek young man from when they first locked eyes.


    "We-we should go," he said, suddenly finding the floor tiles much more interesting than her. Dene couldn''t help finding it cute. Not as attractive as his previous displays, but cute.


    The two first left the hall, then the castle and finally boarded a carriage. Their first destination was the locksmith, to remove the collar around her neck.


    She witnessed the aftermath of the celebrations along the way. Crumpled up pieces of paper littered the streets, along with half-filled or turned mugs and the occasional passed-out drunk.


    Young men and women walked back to their homes in fancy but messed up clothes, some having slept in them and others not having slept at all.


    All this while the smell of alcohol and piss filled the air, more piss than alcohol the further they were from the castle.


    If the inner city was like this, she could only imagine what the outer city looked like.


    Arriving at the locksmith, the old man there bowed and made some small talk with his young Lord before putting himself to work. It wasn''t his place to ask questions. He fumbled with the collar''s lock for a few minutes until finally managing to open it and then handed it to Jonathan.


    Dene was once again able to connect with the outside mana. She cast a simple Mage spell which turned her skin a shade darker, consequently bringing a smile to her face.


    It brought her a small sense of comfort to know she was the strongest person in the room.


    That being done, they left the shop, heading once again to the carriage. "To Father Anderson''s shrine," Jonathan told the coachman.


    He seemed to have recovered from her kiss, even engaging in conversation along the way. He acted like an adult version of the Henri boy, asking every sort of question about her and the desert people.


    This also made her think about the page boy and the Knight. By now, they should have left already.


    "Miss Dene, does the desert people have trouble growing their hair?" Jonathan asked, noting the little hair she had.


    She wondered how someone so smart makes such a dimwitted question. Not wanting to offend him though, she answered, "No my Lord. It''s just that in my tribe, hair symbolizes a warrior''s pride. We were all defeated, so I shaved it."


    "Oh," he spoke, noticing he may have stumbled in a thorny subject. They remained silent for the rest of the way.


    Fortunately, it only lasted for a few minutes before the carriage stopped and the coachman informed they had arrived.


    The shrine was a circular, single story building as large as the castle hall where she was judged. A fire burned inside of a white cauldron which stood atop of an altar at the shrine''s center. Around the altar were eight rows of seats facing the fire.


    A single middle-aged man dressed in a white robe tended to the cauldron.


    "Father Anderson," Jonathan called and the man turned towards them.


    He had a smile on his face that immediately froze when he saw the black woman.


    "Dene, Father Anderson. Father Anderson, Dene." Jonathan introduced the two, acting as nothing happened.


    "Uh, it''s a pleasure," he said to Dene. Then addressing Jonathan he asked, "What''s going on?"


    "Dene here is in need of healing. I was hoping for Father''s help."


    Father Anderson looked at Dene, took a deep breath, and said to the two of them, "Fine, come with me to the back."


    They followed him to a single room at the back of the shrine. It seemed to serve not only as a study but also as a bedroom and washroom. The desk, bookshelf, and a couch occupied the right half. The left half was split, with the bathtub near the front corner, and the bed at the back corner.


    The room''s two small windows to the outside were immediately closed by the Father. Then turning to Jonathan he asked, "Why did you bring a desert woman here?"


    "What''s the problem? You don''t actually believe that nonsense about they being the demons."


    "I don''t, but others do. Priest Olliver has been trying to get rid of me, and I don''t want to give him any excuses."


    "Yeah, not like he already has a list of reasons. Remind me, how much did you gamble away?" Jonathan asked with a bit of a smirk.


    That hit a nerve. "Do you want my help or not?", he asked back with a frown.


    "I do, I do," Jonathan said with an innocent smile.


    "Hmph, smarty. Don''t think that I won''t give you a spanking just because you''re older now," he said while rolling up his sleeves. "You''re never too old for a good spanking."


    Dene snickered at the last part. ''Never too old indeed.''


    "Let''s examine you then," the Father said to Dene. At his request, she removed her shirt and Jonathan once again gained a sudden interest for the floor.


    With a spell, he pulled a ball of water from the bathtub which he then used to cover her upper body, neck, and parts of the head.


    "Fractured ribs, punctured spleen, multiple lacerations, and head trauma... what happened?"


    "Richard happened, along with those idiots who follow him."


    "Urgh, I understand." Done with the examination, the Father proceeded to do the healing. "That brother of yours... there''s someone who needs a spanking. Preferably with a steel rod. To the head."


    He continued, while Dene and Jonathan laughed, "I told your parents, ''you''re spoiling that boy,'' but they didn''t listen. Now, it''ll be much harder to correct him. Mark my words, he keeps going like this, he''ll get himself killed and it''ll be his own damn fault."


    "Yeah, but he got what he deserved," Jonathan said with a chuckle. "Dene hit him with a full kick to the crotch."


    "Oh, really?" The Father looked up towards her. "Good job. Hopefully, he''ll remember this lesson."


    Dene answered with a smile. She was starting to like the man.


    "Not only that, she broke Heddwyn''s neck while he tried to help Richard, and then kicked him in the crotch again."


    "Wait, what?" Father Anderson now had a serious look on his face. "When he was trying help¡­ you mean when he was casting a spell. Did you kill Heddwyn?"


    He moved his gaze from Dene to Jonathan and back to Dene, clearly waiting for an answer.


    She didn''t know what to say. Should she apologize for killing the bastard? He better not hold his breath.


    Fortunately, Jonathan came to her rescue. "He deserved to be killed."


    "No one deserves to be killed. Life is the Holy Flame''s greatest gift, and we must always strive to preserve it."


    "A minute ago you were talking about hitting Richard in the head with a steel rod. How is that any different?"


    "The difference is that that way he may learn something. Let me show you." Father quickly cast a spell aimed at the bathtub.


    Suddenly, the water rose up in the form of a tentacle. It grabbed a wooden back scrubber and in a whip-like movement, flung it at Jonathan, hitting him in the side and bringing a cry of pain.


    "See? You just learned something." He ignored Jonathan''s angry mumbling and spoke to Dene. "You too, Miss. The desert people may have different beliefs, but here we don''t agree with taking a life when it can be avoided."


    Dene didn''t speak. The only thing she wanted Richard and his lackeys to learn was how many stab wounds it takes for them to die.


    "Fine, killing is wrong," Jonathan spoke while massaging his now bruised side. "But what about your gambling, isn''t it also wrong?"


    "Sure it is, but not as wrong as killing. A small vice won''t condemn me to eternal damnation, at most I''ll atone through a bit of suffering, then to heaven I go." He spoke, the healing coming to an end. "Besides, if a person can''t have a bit of fun once in a while, wouldn''t that just be another form of hell?"


    All this while Dene didn''t try to argue. She knew better than to discuss theology with a clergyman. Hopefully, that would be the lesson Jonathan learned from this.


    After it was done, Jonathan recalled the small box he had been holding.


    The Father took the tooth from inside and reimplanted it. Rolling down his sleeves, he commented, "By the way, I noticed some sort of coin embedded in your arm."


    "Yes, that''s an old custom from my tribe." She tried to sound as normal as possible.


    He didn''t ask anything further.


    Jonathan probably thought of doing it but held himself back, not wanting another awkward moment like when he asked about her hair.


    His job done, the Father walked then to the entrance, asking Jonathan to visit again. Trying not to sound offensive, he asked of Dene the opposite. Not that it made much difference, as if she had any freedom to come and go, she''d use it to get as far from here as possible.


    "Congratulations on your victory, by the way."


    "Thanks."


    That seemed to be everything as Jonathan called the coachman and told him to take them back to Dragonblood castle, but stopped midway. He had paused to look at Dene. More specifically, her oversized clothes.


    From this, Dene took a guess for their next destination, which was confirmed when he told, "Take us to the tailor."


    Arriving there, the clerks congratulated Jonathan and tried to act friendly towards her. The tailor tried to sell him a few pieces of clothing as well as enticing him with some new fabric she had received but he simply told her to attend to Dene.


    The tailor took Dene''s measurements and promised she would start working on her clothes immediately. Unfortunately, they didn''t have anything ready in stock for someone of her proportions, save for a couple of dresses and Dene wanted nothing with that.


    Everything having been taken care of, they returned to the carriage and finally made their way back to the castle.

 25 Four and a half years

    If there was one thing Dene liked about this castle, it would be the view.


    She was at the balcony, laying in one of the stretchers. Dressed in a pair of brown pants, and a white, sleeveless lace-up shirt, she admired the city that stretched before her eyes. Rooftops, trees, and even the grass were all covered in white. To the desert woman, it was nothing short of a miracle.


    She had gotten used to how much it rained here in the north. 3 to 4 months a year compared to maybe half a week back in the desert. But this was different. Crystals of frozen water that fell from the sky. Snow, they called it.


    Every winter it happened. This was her 5th one away from home, and it still moved her.


    She thought back to her life since arriving here. Save for that first night and morning, it''s been mostly uneventful. Angela and Richard still hated her but could do nothing while she had Jonathan''s protection. The Duke and Duchess still didn''t like her but would do nothing while their son remained steadfast in defending her.


    But even if they did nothing, Dene just didn''t feel comfortable sleeping in the same building as them. Fortunately, most of the time she didn''t. As a student of the war academy, Jonathan ¡ªand consequently Dene¡ª lived for most of the year on a house inside the campus grounds.


    It wasn''t far from the castle, but it was still better than sleeping inside the viper''s nest. Besides, instead of the small, servant''s quarter here, she had a proper bedroom there.


    The bald, black woman following the Olsen son had become a common sight. His shadow as people called her.


    When not following Jonathan around she kept to herself. And with barely any form of entertainment or people to talk to, she mostly tried to learn more about the Gwynland kingdom and the Great Plains duchy.


    The duchy was located at the kingdom''s eastern border and was one of the twelve duchies composing the country.


    To the northwest, they shared borders with the Wynnes, historical allies to the Olsens. Jonathan''s mother was one of them, and there were already talks of marrying him to some Wynne girl.


    That worried Dene, if nothing else because it could threaten her safety.


    To the southwest were the Olsandres, a former cadet branch of House Olsen and now their adversaries.


    That was related to why she was waiting at the balcony. Every once in a while, the war academies of both territories would organize a competition between its top students, and Jonathan was one of those.


    Right now he was soaking in the bathtub. When he was ready, they would both fly to the Phoenix academy along with other students. After a night of rest, they would start fighting in the morning.


    The Dragon, as the Olsens were known, against the Phoenix, as the Olsandres were known.


    Dene wasn''t really worried about Jonathan''s performance. He was already an accomplished fighter before they met, and it had only gotten better with their regular sparring sessions. Even his parents had to begrudgingly acknowledge this fact.


    In the last four king''s tourneys, he reached the finals in all of them, managing to become champion of single combat two more times. Along with his victory at his second year''s tourney, he had equaled the record of some dead guy from centuries ago. And he hoped to surpass it half a year from now, on his seventh and last tourney.


    Despite not sharing Jonathan''s passion for the competition, Dene was nevertheless happy for him. He had done a lot for her, and she wanted to retribute however possible.


    "Haaaa..." She exhaled, admiring the smoke that came out. Her naked arms were filled with goose pimples. Reaching to the side, she took a sip from a glass of whisky to warm herself up. Going back inside, or simply putting on her coat would achieve the same effect, but she enjoyed the cold against her skin. And also the liquor.


    It had a dry taste, especially when compared to the sweet drinks from back home.


    Home.


    How much she missed it. Her family and friends. The dunes, the foods, the sex, always blue skies, sex, their music, sex¡­ Gods, she missed sex.


    Four and a half years and she was already crawling up the walls. Her only prospect was Jonathan or would be if not for his stupid vows and stupid religion. Something about remaining a virgin until marriage. To Dene, it sounded like a form of self-torture. And people found his decision praiseworthy. Unbelievable.


    As for his religion, she learned more about it. The Holy Flame was seen as the greatest power in the universe and the creator of life. Since the beginning of time, it has been in conflict with its antithesis, the False Flame.


    According to their holy scriptures, the Holy Flame created all lifeforms and humanity was the perfect one. Envious of this fact, the False Flame attempted to create its own humans but was incapable of doing so.


    If it couldn''t create its own humans, then it would destroy the Holy Flame''s. From the soot itself produced, the False Flame created the demons who would bring the end of times for humanity.


    That was what their scriptures said. How the people interpreted it was another story. Some, such as Jonathan and Father Anderson, saw the demons as simply a metaphor as so many others present in the holy text.


    Others, though, took it more literally and concluded that the desert people were the soot demons because of their black skin. An infallible logic.


    The sound of a door opening back in the bedroom caught her attention. She didn''t need to look to know it was Jonathan coming out of the bath¡­ But there was no harm in doing it.


    Peeking through the door gap, Jonathan came into view by the side of the bed, where his clothes were laid out. He had a towel around the waist and that was it, his athletic body in almost full display. Broad shoulders, muscular arms and a tight abdomen ending in a "V" pointing towards what she wanted. And he made a stupid vow to only fuck his future wife. Gods, what a waste.


    She emptied the rest of her glass in a single gulp, left it over the stretcher and opened the door.


    Jonathan was first startled, then annoyed. "Didn''t I ask you to wait?"


    She faked a look of innocence. "I forgot. It was cold outside and I thought you were already done." It didn''t help her case that while speaking she was looking up and down his body.


    Embarrassedly, he held his towel with one hand, while trying to cover his upper body with the other. "F-Fine, just turn around so that I can get dressed."


    "Oh, I did something wrong," Dene ignored what he said. "I''m here, fully clothed while you are so exposed. That''s so unfair. I must do something about it." And so she started to unlace her shirt.


    At the first glimpse of cleavage, Jonathan''s face turned beet red. "Dene!"


    Dene could no longer hold it and started laughing. She had few sources of entertainment around here, and teasing Jonathan was one of them.


    "Very funny. You had your laugh, now do you mind? I need to get dressed."


    "Oh, I don''t mind it at all, go ahead."


    "As soon as you turn around."


    "Are you sure? Seems you might need some help," she spoke seductively, glancing at the bulge that grew under the towel. "Why don''t you lay down and let me take care of you. I mean, you are a dragon, but we''ll try to make it quick."


    Before he could refuse, she finally turned around. "Just don''t stare at my behind for too long," she said chuckling. "Or else your problem will only get worse." While saying that, she wiggled her hips, knowing full well there would be some glances towards it.


    It took a few breaths of time before she heard the rustle of clothes from behind her. She could take a look. She wanted to take a look. But it was best to leave it at this. He had been teased enough already.


    While she waited, Dene took a look at the bedroom. It was practically the same as when she first got here years ago.


    The only difference was a suit of plate armor in a stand to the corner. That was the one he used to wear.


    A few days after she got settled here, Dene and Jonathan sparred for the first time. Though it would be more accurate to say he got trampled.


    She even went easy and didn''t cast any spell, but it made little difference. She danced around the slow and heavy armored Jonathan for a quarter of an hour until he could barely breathe. From there it was just a matter of a few hits for him to fall down and find himself with a blade pointed at the slit of his visor.


    If she was not afraid of hurting him, she could have ended the spar even earlier through some strong blows to the head when he showed the first signs of getting tired. Her shortswords wouldn''t cut through the helmet, but a strong enough blow could still cause a concussion.


    From then on, he started using lighter armor and added a heater shield to make up for the loss of protection. The only piece of equipment that didn''t change was his sword, a three and a half foot long longsword.


    "Alright, you can look."


    Turning around, Jonathan was now fully clothed. He wore a crimson doublet, along with brown trousers and shoes.


    "Are you well? Pants are not too tight?"


    Jonathan took a deep breath. "I''ll manage."


    "You wouldn''t need to if you weren''t so stubborn..."


    "Let''s just go."


    They made their way through the castle towards the courtyard where the flying beasts would be waiting for them.


    Dene was actually excited for this trip. During her time here, besides studying about the country, she had also been trying to find out the destination of the other eleven initial tribesmen that were sent along with her. Among them were some of her family and friends.


    With Jonathan''s help, she was able to inquire about the one sent to the Wynnes. He was a Warlock and a Crusader. From this, he could be either her uncle Tau or Kellan, one of her father''s guards.


    But that was where the good news ended. When arriving in their castle he was placed at the dungeons, as the Wynne Duchess was too busy at that moment. Later that day when she finally sent for him, he had disappeared.


    Dene didn''t doubt this part, no reason for the Wynnes to lie about it. And she didn''t believe he had been able to escape. Even if he somehow managed to leave the castle, he would still be stuck in the heart of a city with hundreds of thousands of people different from him.


    But the Wynnes weren''t the only ones Jonathan asked. Despite the rivalry with the Olsandres, Jonathan had a few friends in their territory. One such friend studied in the Phoenix Academy.


    He told him that a desert woman was indeed sent to House Olsandre and that she somehow managed to be employed by the Duke. He didn''t know much more, but that was enough for Dene.


    Whoever the woman was, Dene was hoping to meet with her.

 26 Olsandre

    In the courtyard, three large litters were lined up, the passengers already inside. ''Taking shelter from the cold, no doubt,'' incurred Dene. From each side of the vehicles, hanged a twelve feet tall green banner with the image of a red dragon, which were extended over the snow-covered grass.


    Perched upon the battlements in the distance were its carriers. Three gigantic brown eagles, not different from the one that brought Dene here.


    ''Probably from the same species,'' she thought.


    Most of the time they remained motionless, only moving to preen themselves after the occasional snowflake managed to land on them.


    Dene and Jonathan made their way towards the rightmost litter. As they got closer, he pulled ahead to open the door for her.


    "Thanks."


    "You''re welcome."


    Like Jonathan''s bedroom, the inside of the litter had temperature control. Its warm temperature was only slightly diminished by Angela''s presence in it.


    "Took you long enough," a voice came from outside in one of the other litters.


    "Perfection takes times," Jonathan opened one of the windows to answer his brother Richard. "You would know that if you weren''t a little shit." The two brothers got along as well as ever.


    "Jonathan, more respect please," Dene chimed in. "Your brother is not little, he''s a big shit."


    Having served his daily duty as a target for mockery, Richard slammed his window shut.


    "My lord," Angela spoke, ignoring Jonathan''s shadow. "You shouldn''t treat your brother like that. Despite everything, you''re both still family."


    "In name only, as I still can''t prove he''s the spawn of a demon with a moron." He took a deep breath. "I''ll start treating him with respect when he starts behaving with honor."


    Having said that he took his seat by Dene''s side, no longer wanting to talk about this.


    With everyone already inside, the three magical beasts came soaring down one after the other, each hovering for a second to grab a litter then flying up.


    Some of the other students inside made small talk with Jonathan, about his possible marriage or hoping for him to create a new record at the next king''s tourney.


    Then the subject moved on, to who would get a spot to La Louisiane this year, if a new conflict would erupt between whatever Houses, or complain about the increase in taxes.


    Dene had no interest in most of these subjects, and for those she did, she''d talk about it with Jonathan. Everyone else inside acted as if she wasn''t there, and Dene was all too happy to not have to talk to them.


    Angela expressed her discontent with the Solis empire, and how they held no respect for the northern kingdoms'' culture or years of history. "They see us as nothing more than uncivilized barbarians," she complained.


    The irony was not lost on Dene.


    But above all else, one phrase would always pop up whenever they talked about tomorrow''s battles.


    The dragon will swallow the sparrow.


    They repeated like a mantra, which Dene knew would only get worse during the actual fighting.


    A sparrow over a tree branch, Olsandre''s coat of arms when they were still a cadet branch to House Olsen. After taking part in a failed revolt, the House was completely destroyed. Or at least, that what was believed.


    One of the lord''s sons managed to survive and escaped to the neighboring duchy. There, he married the daughter of an Earl and refounded the Olsandre house, changing its coat of arms to an eagle flying forward. After a couple of centuries, they had grown so much that lord Olsandre became a marquess. The eagle was fast.


    Most likely, they would have continued to grow. That is, if not for the war that came to their doorstep. The War of the three Queens.


    Seven centuries ago, King Aston III died without leaving any heir, but he had fathered three daughters, Tilly, Skyllar and Halle Catton. By Gwynland''s laws at the time, women were excluded from the succession line in favor of male children. When that hadn''t been possible, there was an instance of the king''s grandson assuming the throne.


    But it couldn''t be applied in this case, and the next ruler would have to be chosen from one of the three daughters. And what better way to decide than through a war? Whoever was alive by the end of it won.


    And so for half a century, Gwynland was the stage to the bloodiest civil war the northern kingdoms had ever seen.


    In the first years of the war, House Olsandre was destroyed for the second time in its history. And also for the second time in its history, one of them survived. Alistair Olsandre had barely finished his seven years of studies when war broke out.


    After his House was destroyed he became a sellsword, distinguishing himself in battle after battle. It wasn''t long before he had his own free company, which only grew as the conflict went on. Forty years into the war, he and his men came under the employ of the second of the sisters, Skyllar Catton.


    The war would last for eight more years, but to some, this was the moment its result had been set.


    Alistair went on to win every battle he took part on, first crushing Halle''s forces to the north, then marching south towards the capital, where Tilly had fortified herself. He personally brought both their heads to Skyllar and was rewarded with a duchy along with a promise of marriage between their children.


    And so, for the second time in its history, House Olsandre rose from the ashes, coming back even stronger. The choice for their coat of arms had become obvious at that point.


    From all the things she studied since coming here, this was the only one Dene enjoyed. It gave her hope. Hope that one day her people would rise up and be free again, coming out even stronger than before.


    ¡­


    It was still day by the time they finally landed in the campus of Phoenix Academy, in the heart of Alistown. That was the duchy''s main city and Olsandre''s seat of power, named as such by Alistair after being rewarded the duchy. The man may have been a brilliant general, but he had a terrible sense for names.


    After disembarking from their litters, the group was received by the academy''s headmaster, along with a special envoy sent by Duke Olsandre. Although the headmaster was the one supposed to welcome them, the one who most drew attention was the envoy. Above all from Dene.


    In a blue, winter dress and a white fur scarf, she stood a full head taller than the old headmaster. Her dark brown skin and dreadlocked hair up to her shoulders left no doubt where she had come from.


    Just as Dene''s gaze was fixed on her, the envoy stared back at Dene. It had been more than four years since they last saw each other.


    Dene smiled while fighting against the tears that formed in her eyes, and she knew her sister was having the same problem.


    Dene''s sister and best friend, Dandara.

 27 Reunion

    Their display didn''t go unnoticed, however. The old headmaster said nothing while no one from the Olsen side dared to say anything with Jonathan there.


    Dandara was the first one to speak, though not with Dene. "Lord Alwyn, I''m sure you''re more than capable of handling the rest from here," she told the headmaster. "If you will, I''ll be taking my leave."


    "Yes, of course. Thanks for coming, miss Dandara."


    She turned to leave, but not before signaling for Dene to follow.


    Dene turned to Jonathan, who asked if she needed any guard to go with her.


    "No, that''s okay. I''ll meet with you later," she answered, before running to catch up with her sister.


    The two of them walked through the snow-covered street and made a turn behind one of the many dormitories. As soon as no one could see them, they were no longer able to hold it. Their tears came as fast as their embrace.


    For the first minute, neither one of them spoke, too elated for finally meeting again.


    Dene was the one to break the silence. "By the gods... I thought I would never see you again... it''s been so long," she said in between snivels.


    "Too long. How are you here? What happened after we were separated?"


    Dene took a deep breath. "So much happened..." She proceeded to tell everything that happened since they last saw each other. How she was taken to Dragonblood castle and presented to the Duke. Richard''s attempted **** and Jonathan''s help at the last minute. Her subsequent judgment in the following day along with being questioned about the Secret Realm.


    Most of her story revolved around the first days. After that, her life had calmed down a lot. She wasn''t prohibited from cultivating, but without the Secret Realm, her progress had slowed down considerably.


    After more than four years she was just a 6th stage Crusader and 4th stage Archmage. And even if she somehow managed to break into the Paladin and Warlock realms before her 30s, it would still be impossible for her to get a spot to the Secret Realm.


    "...you went through a lot. Compared to you, my life has been much calmer. When I arrived, the Duke made some inquiries about the Secret Realm, but I only disclosed basic information. He decided to keep me around, I guess in case he needed anything more from me, and so I became some sort of an assistant to him."


    "Just like that?"


    "Basically, yes. I''ve also been trying to help any other southerner across, but there''s very little I could do."


    "But aren''t you working for the Duke now? You were even chosen to welcome them."


    "The headmaster was there to welcome them. I was there as an insult. Sending a lowborn would be bad enough. Sending a ''desert demon'' to welcome a bunch of Holy Flame''s followers was even worse."


    "Oh, I''m sorry."


    "Don''t be. I may not have any power, but I''m treated well enough. Besides, the Holy Flame religion isn''t as widespread here, so there are very few who see me as a demon. Only as an uncivilized barbarian." She said with a self-deprecating laugh.


    "...time."


    "?"


    "If only we had more time, a few more years, I know I would be able to open it."


    "The core grounds?"


    Dene nodded. "We were so close. Maybe there was something inside that would''ve helped us survive the war. Weapons, armor, spells. Anything."


    "Guess that now we''ll never know. Our home has been taken, and it won''t be long before they also take everything from the Secret Realm. So much for the prophecy."


    The Benefactor''s prophecy. It was told that after revealing the Secret Realm to the Yao tribe, the Benefactor had a vision of the future. She said that a daughter from the Yao tribe would obtain everything inside the core grounds. With this power, she would rule the greatest empire these lands had ever seen, with an unstoppable army that no castle walls could hold.


    She also said this empress would have eight arms, so Dene never took it very seriously.


    "They may have taken our home, but they''ll never get into the core grounds."


    "Dene, they got the key. It won''t be long before one of them manages to pass the test."


    "There''s the thing, they don''t have it." As she spoke, Dene pulled her necklace pendant from inside her shirt. It was a simple metal coin with black and white concentric circles painted on both sides.


    She couldn''t keep the key inside her arm forever, so after some time she pulled it out and put into a necklace. To those unaware, it was no different than a simple coin.


    A look of shock appeared on Dandara''s face. "H-How?"


    "Father gave it to me to hide before the battle."


    "This, this means," a smile started forming on her face. "The prophecy, maybe it wasn''t wrong."


    "Dara..."


    Dandara grabbed her hand before Dene could say anything more. "Come with me, I want to show you something."


    Hearing that phrase coming from her sister brought an involuntary smile to Dene''s face. How many of their misadventures as kids had begun this way? Or, "no one will find out." And the worst of all, "what could go wrong?"


    With Dandara pulling her, the two ran through the academy.


    "Where are we going?"


    "Just wait, we''re almost there."


    They both ran for a few more minutes until arriving in front of the academy''s main building. Dandara then proceeded to look around in search of something.


    "Can you tell me what-"


    "Look, there!" She pointed to a balcony at the building''s first floor.


    "Dammit." Dene cursed, before looking to the balcony. She couldn''t see much from below, but there seemed to be some sort of event going on there. "What about it?"


    "Look at that man in the corner, the one with the wine glass and the weird clothes."


    "I see him. Is that a robe he''s wearing?" He wasn''t the only one. Dene could see others, men and women dressed in a similar way.


    "They are merchants from the east."


    "From Solis?"


    "Farther east."


    "I didn''t know there was anything farther east than Solis."


    "Oh, but there is, and that''s not the most important. Look at them, tell me what else you see."


    "A bit shorter than the average northerner, eyes a bit narrower, and they all have black hair. What about it?"


    "When you look at them, don''t they seem a bit familiar?"


    Dene sighed in exasperation, having gone down this road before. "Dara, I''m not gonna stand here guessing. Just tell me what''s so important about them."


    "Oh for fuck''s¡­ the Benefactor! ''A short woman with white skin, straight black hair, a pair of dark slits for eyes and dressed in a white and blue robe,'' that''s what the old chief said about her. I always wondered why a northerner so powerful would help the desert people. Unless she wasn''t a northerner. This means that the Benefactor may truly have existed, and she came from somewhere in the far east."


    "Oh."


    "''Oh?'' That''s all you have to say? Now we know something more about the Benefactor, and all you can say is ''oh?''"


    "I mean, that''s interesting and all, but how does it help us with the matter at hand? Can you ask them to send troops to free our people? Maybe have them convince the kings to pull out from the desert?"


    "Of course you wouldn''t care."


    All her life, Dandara had an unquenchable thirst for learning, and it seemed this hadn''t changed.


    Dene herself has been trying to learn more about the northern kingdoms, but it was solely in search for information she could use in her favor.


    In fact, if not for Dene''s talent that gave her the chance to enter the core grounds, Dandara would have been chosen as the next tribe''s chieftess.


    "You said this had to do with the prophecy, does this mean they know how to grow additional arms? Maybe that''s why they have those long-sleeved robes." Dene spoke with a laugh.


    "It''s religion. In the east, they also a country of dark-skinned people. In this country, many of their gods have multiple arms. I think the multiple arms in the prophecy were used as a metaphor, meaning that the one to enter the core grounds would become a deity."


    ''That''s stupid,'' she wanted to say, but settled for, "that''s possible."


    "You don''t believe it."


    "Fine, I don''t. Look-" Dene stopped talking when she noticed a crimson color from the corner of her eye. Jonathan, accompanied by two bodyguards, was walking towards her. "We''ll talk about it later, okay?"


    "Fine."


    Jonathan told his bodyguards to wait at a distance. "Hey."


    "Hey, I want you to meet someone. Jonathan, my sister Dandara. Dandara, Jonathan."


    "A pleasure to meet you," he said with a short bow of his head.


    "The pleasure is mine, my lord." She answered with a curtsy.


    "Sorry for interrupting your reunion. I just wanted to tell you that I''ll go to my room. I can''t take any more of this cold. My room is at the green dormitory, fourth floor. The headmaster said you can take any of the others on that floor."


    "Thanks, I''ll go as soon as we''re done." Then close to his ear she whispered, "and we''ll continue our talk from this morning."


    "Eh, ah... bye." He quickly turned around and left.


    As he did so, she couldn''t help admiring his behind. ''Oh, I''ll get you,'' Dene thought with a smile.


    Her sister didn''t seem to find it funny though. "What the hell was that?" She angrily asked.

 28 Be

    "What?" Dene asked back.


    "You were flirting with him, that''s what! They destroyed our home and you are trying to bed one of them."


    "He didn''t do anything, even his Father knew nothing about the invasion until it was already in course, and even so he didn''t move a single one of his troops."


    "Only because neither he nor his king believed in the legends about the Secret Realm. If they did, then they would be the ones marching south."


    "Jonathan isn''t his father, he is a good man. He saved me and has only been helping me ever since I met him."


    "And when he finally gets tired of doing so, what then?


    "He won''t."


    "He will," she grabbed denes shoulders. "Please Dene, open your eyes. These white people are all the same, the only difference is their family colors. They only see us as an inferior ra-"


    "Dara!" A child called out. From behind her sister, Dene could see a ten, maybe eleven years old girl coming their way. Her ginger red hair reached up to her back, and her big, green eyes were teared up.


    If the beautiful red dress she was wearing under a white fur cloak didn''t attest to her importance, the four Paladin guards following closely behind did.


    Each of them wore a dark orange brigandine with green accents, over a brown gambeson and black breeches. Their heads were covered by a padded coif and gloved hands remained over the hilt of their swords at all times.


    "Damn it," Dandara muttered softly before letting go of Dene. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down.


    "Dara?" The child was already behind her.


    Dandara opened her eyes and displayed a gentle smile that almost seemed genuine to Dene. She crouched down and asked, "yes, my lady?"


    "Hmm¡­ are you fine? You seemed angry..."


    "Yeah, I''m fine. Just talking to my sister, that''s her by the way."


    "Oh," the girl turned her swollen eyes towards Dene.


    Now closer, she could notice a small beauty mark above and to the left of the little girl''s lips. Dene believed she would grow to be a beautiful woman. "I''m Dene. It''s a pleasure, my lady," she did a small bow of the head.


    "I''m Vivienne, and the pleasure is mine," the girl answered with a well-practiced curtsy.


    "Now tell me, my lady, why-" Dandara started asking before being interrupted by Vivienne.


    "I told you to call me by my name," the girl pouted.


    From where she was standing, Dene could see Dandara picking her cuticles. She always did that when angry.


    Maintaining the same smile, she asked again, "Now tell me, miss Viv, why were you crying?"


    "Mom doesn''t love me anymore," the girl spoke, her eyes starting to tear up again.


    "Miss Viv, we''ve talked about this. You''re a big girl now, and lady Olsandre must care for the baby."


    "I know, but mom never has any time for me," she sniffed. "It''s always Eveline this and Eveline that," she said, sniffing once more.


    Dandara stood up and wiped off the snow that had stuck to her dress. "What if I played with you?"


    "Really?" The girl''s face immediately lit up. "Really, really?"


    "Yes, really, really."


    "Yay!" Vivienne hugged Dandara''s legs. "Will you come too?" She asked Dene.


    "My sister actually has to go. She came with the Olsens, and can''t stay with us for too long. Dene just remember what we just talked about, okay?"


    "Okay."


    "Bye, miss Dene." The girl waved. "Now, let''s go!" she started pulling on Dandara''s hand, "I''ll show you my new doll. She has a dress just like yours, but she isn''t as tall..."


    The girl talked with enthusiasm as they left, leaving Dene alone, gazing at her sister''s back. When she could no longer see her, she turned around and walked the opposite way, her head heavy with doubts.


    Was she wrong? Was she letting her urges cloud her mind? Would Jonathan get tired and send her away? No, he wasn''t that sort of person.


    She made her way through the campus, walking through the roads and under the naked tree branches in search for the dormitory.


    The campus was deserted. As with the Dragon Academy, the students here were on vacation after the winter tourney, also known as the qualifiers for the King''s tourney that was held every summer.


    She walked a good 10 minutes until coming across a large dormitory made of red bricks. Further ahead was an orange one and after that, sure enough, was a yellow one. In front of the fourth rainbow dormitory was a public square to where the litters had been brought.


    The benches and tables were covered in snow, but the pond remained unfrozen due to charged mana stones that were thrown in. That was the same method used to keep Jonathan''s bedroom warm, as well as the litters.


    Dene made her way to one of the vehicles. There were a few students inside them, no doubt seeking shelter from the cold. She didn''t get in though. Instead, she walked to the side of one and opened a horizontal door near the ground, revealing the storage compartment.


    Inside, were various travel bags and tourney weapons. Further back, wrapped in linen cloth was a framed painting. That was Jonathan''s "gift" to the Phoenix Academy, which he would hang on their main building after the competition.


    Every time there was a contest between the two academies, there would also be some sort of bet. Its stakes were decided by the two headmasters, usually some sort of insult towards the other.


    Dene grabbed the bag she left there the previous day. Inside were just some changes of clothes. Besides that, she also grabbed a shield, a longsword, and two shortswords, before closing the door and heading inside the green dormitory.


    Inside was a large corridor that went straight to the stairs, while to each side were smaller ones leading to the rooms. Dene climbed up the stairs until reaching the fourth floor, where she searched for Jonathan''s room. It wasn''t hard, as his'' was the only one with guards posted outside.


    He said she could take any of the other rooms, so she went into the one directly in front of his.


    She dropped her bag on the bed and grabbed a black, button shirt from inside. She messed with it for a few minutes before putting it on, grabbed the training weapons, and headed to Jonathan''s room.


    The two guards outside made no movement to stop her, and so she just knocked on the door. Then she did it again.


    "Jonathan, open the door."


    "..."


    "I was kidding earlier. Now open the door, it''s important."


    It took a few seconds, but the door finally opened. "What?"


    "Let''s go spar. Some light training for tomorrow will do well."


    "That''s it? We are just going to spar?"


    "Well, it would be more accurate to say I''ll beat you again, but I wanted to preserve your male pride."


    "Ha, you wish. I''m not the same as when we first sparred."


    And that was true. Jonathan had improved a lot these past years, not only in cultivation but also in fighting technique.


    Today he was already an eighth stage Crusader. As an archmage, Dene had better reflexes, but without casting spells the winner was never assured. These days, he was as likely to win as she was. But not today.


    "So, is there anywhere we can do this?"


    "Yeah, either in the basement or the roof. I''m not going back to that cold though, so let''s go downstairs."


    "All right. Here, take your weapons." She handed over the shield and the longsword, and they both descended the stairs followed by the guards.


    The basement had the same layout from the other floors, with various empty rooms for them to choose from.


    They entered a room at random, and Dene told the guards, "you two, stand guard at the door. We don''t want anyone to see how badly Jonathan will be beaten."


    They both looked towards Jonathan for confirmation who repeated the command.


    After the two left, she then asked, "before we begin, care to make this a bit more interesting?"


    "Interesting how?"


    "In the castle, I''m always having to stay inside that stuffy servant''s room, while you get to sleep in a comfy bedroom with silk sheets and temperature control. After I win, we''re trading rooms for one whole moon."


    "If you win, but what do I get if I win?"


    "Then I''ll still sleep in your bedroom, but you won''t need to move. Besides sparring partner, I''ll also be your bed warmer. And I assure you that I am very hot."


    Jonathan was not impressed though. "Seems to me that you win no matter what."


    "I always play to win."


    "..."


    Dene sighed. "Fine. If you win, which won''t happen, I promise to stop trying to entice you. No more innuendos, sexual jokes, I''ll even start wearing a long coat so that my pure lord doesn''t get tempted with dirty thoughts. Happy?"


    "Very much. Let''s do this then." Jonathan raised the shield on his left arm, putting it between him and her.


    Dene kept her swords pointing down as she slowly walked around him, looking for the best chance to strike. But the first to do it was Jonathan as he lunged forward with shield raised, attempting a bash.


    She stepped back, out from the bash range, but not from the follow-up sword slash. Unable to dodge, she met the attack with one of her own, deflecting the blade to her right and leaving her facing Jonathan''s unprotected side.


    Instead of trying to put the shield back between them, he jumped forward to avoid her thrust and did a quick turn, just in time to block a flurry of slashes.


    Failing to get past the shield, she stepped back, putting some distance between them. Dene could feel that her secret weapon was almost ready.


    Again, Jonathan struck first, this time with a stab aimed at her left so that she couldn''t ¡ªonce more¡ª dodge to his unprotected side.


    But that wasn''t her plan. Easily dodging to the other side, Dene released another series of attacks over his shield, which would have been useless if not¡­ for her shirt.


    The buttons ¡ªthat she intentionally damaged back in the room¡ª finally snapped, revealing her naked breasts. Making use of Jonathan''s moment of distraction, she kicked at his leg and he fell on one knee.


    She then quickly got behind him, one arm wrapped around his neck, while the other held a sword to his face.


    "I win."

 29 Lioness

    "That was cheating," Jonathan complained after coming back to his senses.


    "That was me winning," Dene argued back while letting go of him. She didn''t bother trying to cover herself up.


    "..." Jonathan struggled to come up with a response, and even more to look up.


    "You can do more than just looking, you know?"


    "What¡­ no!" He finally shook himself awake. "Fine, you win, now cover yourself."


    "Are you sure that you don''t want to look some more? There won''t be another chance after this¡­ Ha! Who am I kidding? Of course there''ll be."


    "Yeah, fine, but that still wasn''t fair."


    "Is that what you would say in a real fight?"


    "Yes, it is."


    "No, it isn''t, because you would already be dead."


    Jonathan kept on complaining during the walk back to their rooms. Then, even more, when Dene attempted to get into the room with him.


    And so the day came to an end.


    The following morning, students from both Academies attended the breakfast at the dining hall. The headmaster was present, but the one hosting it was the Duke himself. It was hard to miss him, with his bright ginger hair and beard, as well as deep green eyes.


    This seemed to be the norm among the Olsandres, as was the Olsens'' chestnut hair and green eyes.


    His daughter, the little Vivienne, was also present. She sat with Dandara and an Olsandre boy at a separate table.


    Dene sat with Jonathan, but with so many people around she had to behave and eat her sausage normally.


    After a short rest, it was finally time for the competition. As everyone would use training weapons, there was no need for armor.


    Starting from the freshmen, one from each Academy would come forward to fight. Whoever won would fight again and the loser would leave until one of the sides had no one else to send.


    The dragon won among the freshmen but suffered a turnaround after the second and third years'' defeats. They pulled ahead again when the fourth and fifth years won.


    Richard ¡ª as much as Dene hated to admit ¡ª fought well. He was the last of the fifth years, while the other side still had three more. After the tensest fight up until then, he defeated the last adversary and scored a win for the dragons.


    The phoenixes achieved a draw on the sixth years'' battle thanks to a similarly excellent performance from one Thertis Olsandre, nephew to the Duke.


    The competition would be decided by the veterans. If not for one specific veteran.


    Jonathan was the first and last to fight from his side, winning six consecutive fights, something unheard of up until then.


    Dripping with sweat after the last fight, he let go of the sword and shield then ran towards the hugs from the other students.


    As punishment for losing the bet, the Phoenix academy would have to display various messages on its main building. They ranged from praises to Dragon Academy to insults to the Phoenix along with various mentions of "sparrow".


    They would remain where they were for a whole year before the Olsandres could remove it.


    And in the most prominent place, right at the entrance, Jonathan hanged his painting. The background was the throne room on Dragonblood castle.


    Jonathan stood in front of the staired dais with the thrones behind him. He was dressed in the same crimson doublet and brown trousers he had come here with. He had his usual confident smile.


    On the waist, he carried his sword, and to his left was Dene, wearing black breeches and a blue, fitting shirt. Like Jonathan, she also had her sword belts on the waist, instead of her shoulders as usual.


    On the frame, under the painting was a silver plaque that read: "Jonathan Olsen, heir to the Great Plains Duchy, alongside his trainer, miss Dene Yao."


    And above the frame, someone had painted over the walls in bright red paint, "A sparrow can never stand against a dragon."


    ------------


    After a bath and change of clothes, Dene and Jonathan went for a walk around the campus. He had dismissed the two guards, and in their place was a man and a woman from Phoenix Academy.


    "I told you I could do it," Jonathan spoke with a smug grin.


    "You got lucky," the woman spoke. She had light brown hair and was wearing a simple, white dress. "Hagen almost got you in the end."


    "But he didn''t, and so I beat everyone."


    "Fucking¡­ rubbing it in... " the man mumbled. He had short black hair and dark brown eyes.


    "What''s that Hagen? I couldn''t hear you, so busy I was winning."


    "I was complaining about the terrible winner you are. Can''t wait for the next tourney so that I don''t have to see you again after that."


    "You don''t mean it. You and Athalia love me."


    "Like a sore tooth," Athalia said.


    "Or a kick in the bollocks," Hagen also denied.


    "You''re a really bad winner," even Dene chipped in.


    "And who are you to talk? Jonathan contended against Dene. "You''re always talking about how you trampled me on our first fight."


    "That''s different. You gloat, while I simply state the facts."


    "She''s right," Athalia spoke in support. "There''s a lot you could learn from her, such as humility."


    "That''s because you two don''t know her. You have no idea of the things she says or does when it''s just the two of us."


    "Oh, really, like what?"


    "Yeah, Jonathan," Dene spoke with a smile. "Like what?"


    "Uh¡­ you know. Stuff..."


    "No, I don''t know stuff. Could you be a bit more specific?"


    Dene would never get tired of this. Thanks to her, Jonathan remained flustered all the way back to the public square in front of the green dormitory.


    "Look, we''ve arrived, let''s go." He pulled ahead towards the litters. As before, everyone was already inside and just waiting for him.


    "You better run," Athalia laughed. "So I guess this is goodbye." She then addressed Dene. "It has been a pleasure."


    "And I say the same," Dene spoke with at least some sincerity. "And thank you, my lord, for informing Jonathan about my sister."


    Hagen was the friend of Jonathan who told him about Dandara, "the southerner working for Duke Olsandre," as he described. Dene would have come either way ¡ª as Jonathan''s side was the safest place for her ¡ª, but thanks to this she was able to prepare beforehand.


    "Goodbye then, and make sure to rein him in," Athalia joked, referring to Jonathan.


    "I''ll try, but I think a collar would be more appropriate," Dene joked back as she said goodbyes. Then she picked up her pace towards Jonathan, who was already waiting by the litter''s door.


    "What were you talking about?" He asked.


    "Nothing much, I was just praising how good a boy you are," she laughed while petting his head. "Keep this up and I''ll give you a treat later."


    He straightened his hair back the way it was. "You know, one day I''ll get truly angry at you."


    "Are you going to punish me then?"


    "What? No, nothing like that," he answered, not getting understanding her meaning. "Anyways, let''s go." Jonathan was about to open the door but then stopped, his gaze going past her.


    Dene turned around and found her sister coming their way. "Do you mind if..."


    "Take your time, I''ll wait inside."


    "Thanks," she said, then made her way towards Dandara until they were facing one another.


    Her sister was the first to speak. With a sigh, she asked, "you haven''t changed your mind, have you?"


    Dene simply shook her head.


    "I still think you''re making a terrible mistake..."


    "..."


    "...but if that''s what makes you happy, then I hope to be wrong," she gave a warm smile.


    Dene smiled back before they shared a hug.


    "Just be careful, okay? We''ve already lost too much, I don''t want to lose you too."


    "You won''t lose me. And thank you."


    The sisters talked a little bit more, promising to try meeting again during the king''s tourney, then said their goodbyes.


    There were some annoyed faces when she finally got to her seat by Jonathan''s side, but no one said anything about it.


    All done, they left to Lastan and then to Dragonblood castle, where everyone attended a celebration banquet that lasted well into the night.


    As the festivities concluded, Dene and Jonathan retired to their chambers.


    ------------


    Dene let out one more sigh, its count already lost. She was soaking in the tub while pondering what she was about to do.


    Would it work? Even if it did, how would things be after that? Would he accept her or push her away?


    It was time to find out.


    Dene got out of the tub, dried herself with the towel then put on a bathrobe.


    From the shelf beside the mirror, she took a small glass bottle. Veiled Lady, was the perfume''s name. One of the very few things she had brought in these more than four years. She acquired it on a whim, from a merchant visiting the castle, but only used it once. Based on whiterose, nightbloom and a touch of sweet wine, it was strong just enough to be noticed.


    She rubbed one drop on her wrists, then another drop on her neck. After a deep breath, she left the washroom to the sight of Jonathan with a large bag in his hands.


    "What are you doing?" Dene asked.


    "I''m taking my things to the side room," Jonathan answered, still not totally approving of the way she won.


    "Wha- Oh, the bet. Forget about it."


    "Really?"


    "Yes. More importantly, I need to show you something." She took one more deep breath before opening her bathrobe, revealing all the clothes she wasn''t wearing underneath.


    Jonathan simply stood there, frozen on the spot. The silence seemed to drag forever, until Dene took a step forward, allowing the robe to slide off of her body.


    Startled awake, Jonathan unwittingly dropped the bag.


    Akin to a lioness locked on its prey, she took another step forward, while he took one backward. Then he did it again, and she followed suit, the distance remaining the same. But not for long.


    He soon reached the bed, stumbled on its frame and fell with his back on the mattress.


    That was when Dene pounced.


    As Jonathan sat up, she landed on his lap, knees over the sheets.


    Another moment of silence.


    Dene didn''t make another move, allowing him time to make sense of the situation.


    "W-what are you doing?" He finally asked after a long time but didn''t try to remove her.


    "I told you I would give you a treat, didn''t I? Do you like the view?"


    Jonathan''s eyes all over her body were enough of an answer.


    ''Not a bad start,'' thought Dene, ''but I want more.''


    "I know I said this was a treat," she broke the silence, "but the courteous thing would be to show me something too."


    Not waiting for his answer, she pushed a bit further, putting her hands under his pajama shirt, her fingers feeling his chiseled muscles.


    "H-hey, you said looking," he stammered in protest, but still didn''t try to stop her.


    "My mistake," she laughed while removing her hands from his stomach, but not for the reason he wanted. Or said he wanted. Dene grabbed his hand and placed one on her waist, while the other went over her breast. "There, now we''re even." And so she resumed exploring his body, with only a brief pause to open his shirt.


    His hands now full, Jonathan''s protests turned even weaker.


    "Dene, wa-" He made one last attempt that was cut short by her lips. Intentionally or not, his hands moved, feeling and fondling her body.


    Her lips traveled from his lips, down to his neck, then back up again to his ear. "Take off your clothes," she whispered in between nibbles.


    He stood still, his blood having flowed out of his head long ago, as evidenced by the bulge that had been poking her for some time now.


    "Take them off," she repeated with a smile. "You''re not hoping to fuck me like this, are you?"


    The word seemed to bring back some of his clarity. "Wait, who said anything about fucking?"


    Dene didn''t know whether to laugh or cry. Maintaining her smile, she spoke, "Jonathan, I''m sitting naked over your lap with your hands all over me. Even you know where this is going, and the fact you haven''t made any real attempt to stop it tells me you want it too."


    Jonathan bit his lip and looked down, not looking at her body, but deep in thought.


    This was the worst wait of all. Every beat of her heart sounded like drums in her head. Every moment was agony as she anxiously awaited his decision. This was the last step, and it had to come from him.


    As he finally raised his head, and his eyes looked into hers, he came to a decision.


    He¡­


    ...took his hands away from her body.


    Her heart skipped a beat.


    Then it skipped another, as his previously feeble hands came back with an unseen strength, one wrapped around her waist while the other reached to the back of her head, pulling her body to his body, her lips to meet into his lips.


    Their tongues invaded each other''s mouths, one dancing around the other as the couple rushed to remove his clothes, ripping them out when it didn''t go fast enough and losing themselves in a night of passion that would last until the crack of dawn.


    And so lost in their passion they were, that none of them recalled that the bedroom door was closed, but not locked.

 30 Starting the day R-18

    The bedroom was barely illuminated by the sunlight that peeked through the curtains.


    Dene laid on her side as she lovingly gazed at the sleeping Jonathan''s face.


    According to the bells that rang outside a little while ago, it was a bit after 10 in the morning.


    She was still basking in the afterglow, hours after their night of passion finally came to an end.


    Jonathan''s lack of experience was made up for by his stamina and size. She had never climaxed as much as last night. He was truly a natural at this.


    Or maybe wasn''t, and it''s simply been too long since her last time. ''A hungry man will eat anything'', as her mother once told her, and the gods knew she was starved.


    Dene would need to have another go so that she could be sure of his talents. ''Just to know for sure,'' she thought with a light chuckle.


    She continued to admire his sleeping face. Even like this, he was still handsome.


    ''How could such a wonderful man be born to such a family, with such a despicable brother?'' That was a question she always asked herself. The other siblings were a bit better, not because they were good, but because one had to be truly evil to be worse than Richard.


    The nobles loved to talk about how they deserve their status. About how righteous they were, painting themselves and their families as the embodiment of honor and chivalry. But in all her time here, she has only seen one who came close to representing these ideals.


    Even if he acted a bit stupid or bragged about his feats once in a while, he would still be a true role model for their children...


    Dene lightly trembled, startled by her own thoughts.


    Children?


    That would never happen. Any news about their relationship and that could very well be her end.


    He was highborn, while here in the north she was less than a commoner. He was from the northern kingdoms, while she was from the southern desert. He was white and she was black.


    As soon as today she would have to brew some arid tea. There would be no hiding their relationship if she became heavy with child.


    But that could wait a few hours.


    With her finger, she gently pushed aside a strand of hair that fell over his face. Not as gently as she had hoped, as he moved a bit and slowly opened his eyes.


    "Good morning," she greeted with a smile.


    "Morning," he greeted back, then letting his eyes wander over her. "Not a bad way to start the day."


    "Indeed, and it could have happened a lot earlier if you hadn''t been so stubborn about those vows."


    "Yeah¡­" His smile faded a bit.


    "...Do¡­ do you regret it?"


    "No," he answered immediately. "Everyday you make my life brighter, and I''ll never forget last night. I just wish we could be together without breaking my vows."


    Dene understood what he meant. As much as she loved how honor bound he was, this also meant that he took his own words way too seriously. That''s why it took them so long to get here.


    "I guess this is a bad time to say it. That wasn''t the only thing you broke last night¡­" she said, trying to lighten the mood.


    Inquisitively, Jonathan looked at her, then followed her gaze up to the headboard. The tall wooden panel now had large cracks extending from top to bottom, while the sheets near it were sprinkled with splinters.


    "Did I do that?"


    "By the end of it, yes. You were going so hard that you didn''t even notice."


    John simply gave a self-deprecating laugh.


    "But don''t worry, I''m sure you won''t break anything this time."


    "Ye- wait, this time?"


    "Yes, this time, as in we''re doing it again right now." She shifted under the sheets and mounted him, but didn''t put it in just yet.


    "But we did it last night."


    "And we''ll do it again now, then in the afternoon, and the evening and every moment we''re alone from now on."


    "But my vows-"


    "You''ve already broken it."


    "We just woke up-"


    "Jonathan, stop trying to talk your way out of this. I had to wait for years thanks to you, and now we''re going to make up for the lost time. Besides," she grabbed his semi-erection, "little Jonathan seems much more honest, and he says he wants to come in again."


    "..."


    "Is he lying Jonathan?" She rubbed its head against her moist slit, making him harder in the process. "Is he?"


    "...no¡­" he answered in a low voice, after struggling for a couple of seconds.


    "Good, so tell me what do you want to do?"


    "I want us to be together."


    "We are together."


    "Yes, but doing what we did yesterday."


    "We did a lot of things yesterday. We had breakfast," she let go of his cock and started counting with her fingers. "We flew, we walked in the snow. Oh, maybe you want to walk in the snow again, then I need to pick some warm clothes."


    Not letting up on the teasing, Dene attempted to get up but was held down by Jonathan.


    "..."


    "Say it," she pressed her chest against his'' and started kissing his neck. "I want to hear you say it," she whispered by his ear.


    "...ck¡­"


    "Louder," she spoke in an almost commanding voice.


    "...fuck."


    "Sorry, I couldn''t hear it. A pity, such a big boy that you''ve been hiding, but I guess if you won''t say it, then there''s nothing-"


    "Fuck. I want us to fuck. I''ve been wanting it ever since I''ve first seen you, but I had already made that stupid vow, but now I don''t care anymore, I want to be with you, to be happy with you, and yes, to fuck you!" Breathless, Jonathan was almost screaming by the end.


    Not giving him time to breathe, Dene immediately brought her lips into his, without a care for their morning breath.


    She finally broke the kiss and sat up when he could no longer hold it. "And fuck we shall," she grabbed his now fully hard cock. It was completely wet. She was dripping.


    She always wondered why she gets so aroused from teasing him, but that was a question for another day.


    Dene lined his cock with her cunt and immediately sat down, swallowing him wholly and bringing out a moan of pleasure from both.


    ''Gods, he is thick.'' But that didn''t hold her back yesterday, and it wouldn''t do so now. She only allowed themselves a moment to enjoy the feeling before starting to move, first grinding, then bouncing before grinding once again, all the while squeezing him.


    She alternated between the two at her own pleasure, but Jonathan clearly had a preference for one of them. He grabbed her by the waist started thrusting, ramming ever harder into her. Despite enjoying it, that wouldn''t do for Dene. She seized his hands and held it over his head, using her weight to keep them down.


    "Yesterday you were on top, that was my gift for your first time. If you want the control from now on, then you''ll have to take it."


    For one instant she could see a fire being lit in his eyes. Just for one instant though, just one spark, and soon enough he resigned himself to his position.


    Dene wondered how it would be like when that fire remained lit, the same fire he would display whenever he fought.


    With that to look for in the future, she increased the pace, bouncing ever more while her breasts did the same. "Here''s something for you to do," she pulled his hands onto her breasts. "Play with them or whatever, just stop them from going all over the place."


    Both were breathing heavy, but not from fatigue. It was getting closer. Her previously controlled motions now turned erratic as her hips started bucking. No turning back. With hands on his chest for leverage, Dene put her soles flat on the bed and bounced with as much force as she could muster, not caring if the bed would be strong enough to handle it.


    By the look on Jonathan''s face, she knew he was about to reach his end. "Yes, do it! Give it to me!" She commanded and he obeyed, shooting his seed deep inside of her with a moan of pleasure.


    "Yes, yes!" The old familiar warmth filling her up was the last push she needed, causing her own climax. After one final bounce, she released a guttural, animalistic moan.


    Jonathan gave another moan, this time more pain than pleasure, but she was too far gone to pay attention, eyes rolling up as her whole body trembled.


    Exhausted, she finally collapsed on top of him, where she remained barely moving for a couple of minutes. "Definitely," she spoke, still gasping for air, "not a bad way to start the day.

 31 Exposed

    Dene spent a couple of minutes to get her breath back, then some more to enjoy the afterglow.


    She made no attempt to get up from Jonathan, which seemed all the better to him. He rested one hand on the small of her back and the other on her butt.


    "You like that?" She asked with a giggle. A giggle. She really had been repressed.


    "It was the best I ever had," he chuckled. "I wish we could stay like this forever, but..."


    "...but we can''t," Dene said, returning to reality. She sat up, taking the time to enjoy the view of him and his body. His two emerald green eyes were focused on her while his face displayed a smile. He had a short stubble that he would shave later, as he did every morning. He disliked his beard, said it made him look older. More handsome in her opinion.


    His upper body was the same chiseled masterpiece that she knew and loved, but with a slight difference. There were two sets of four fingernail marks on his chest. Three of them deep enough to draw blood.


    That explained his grunt of pain near the end. In one hand she felt bad for hurting him, even if just a bit. On the other hand, it was exciting to see her marks on his body.


    "Admiring your handiwork?" He asked, wincing a bit when she traced a finger over the wounds.


    "Yes, I am. Sorry for that, but you are supposed to bleed on your first time. It was actually your second time, but whatever."


    "So that''s the reason? You sure you weren''t so into it that you didn''t even notice?"


    Dene faked an angry huff. "Don''t get cocky," her hand traveled from his chest, "you did well," to his navel, "but you still have," and finally rested on his shaft, "a lot to learn. If not for me, you would only be using this big boy to piss. What a waste that would be." She gave it a light stroke as if hoping for it to get hard again.


    Before Jonathan could protest, she cut him off and got up from the bed. "I know, I know, you need time to recover, but do get up from the bed. We''re going out and we''ll continue when we''re back. I wasn''t lying when I said we''ll be doing it a lot more." While speaking she walked towards the washroom. Back then, in the heat of the moment, she had enjoyed the feeling of his seed filling her up. Having it trickle down her thighs as it cooled off wasn''t nearly as pleasant.


    When done washing up she came back to Jonathan not only still in bed, but now wrapped in the bedsheets, showing no intention of getting up.


    "I told you to get up."


    "What for?"


    "To go to the market. I need to buy ingredients for tea."


    "I''ll ask a maid to make some tea for us."


    "Not that kind of tea," she pulled the covers from him. "And no one can know about it. Neither can you drink it, else I''ll have nothing to play with for the rest of the day."


    Jonathan didn''t seem convinced. "Can''t we just stay in bed some more?"


    "Listen," Dene whispered by his ear. "Let''s go while you''re still recovering. The sooner we do this, the sooner we''ll be back in bed with you inside of me."


    That got his attention. He was about to get up when both of them froze.


    Multiple, rhythmic thumps sounded from the corridor outside the room, growing a bit louder with each new one. Footsteps, more than one person and getting closer. They turned to the door just in time to see it burst open. Two pairs of Paladins dressed in Olsen colors filed in and stood to either side of the entrance.


    Dene remained frozen, not knowing what to do. Run? They could catch her even before she reached the balcony door. They were Paladins. Casting a spell wouldn''t work for the same reason. A Mage spell would leave some soreness at best, while an Archmage one would require time she didn''t have, with no guarantee of killing even one of them. It was over. She traded her only chance at safety for some pleasure.


    With a half smirk on her face, the blonde Angela came into the bedroom.


    Her gaze hovered on the naked Dene for just a second, and she could barely contain her satisfaction. "My lord," she addressed Jonathan with the customary respect, "your father ordered me to bring you and your guest to meet him in his private audience chamber."


    "Understood," Jonathan answered. "Wait outside, we need some privacy."


    "I''m sorry my lord, but," Angela started to speak but was interrupted by Jonathan.


    "You will be sorry if you don''t do as I say," he almost yelled, not masking his anger. Without caring for how exposed he was, Jonathan walked towards Angela until he was face to face with her. With the height difference, it was more accurate to say he towered over her. "I gave you an order, lady Mabbet. You better think very carefully about what you''ll do next." He spoke as if ready to grab her throat at the first sign of defiance.


    "Yes, my lord," she finally conceded, leaving the bedroom with the guards and closing the door.


    "Shit," Dene muttered under her breath. Then again, a touch louder and faster this time, and again and again until Jonathan''s embrace calmed her down.


    "It''s okay Dene, everything will be okay."


    "No, it''s not. It''s been less than a day and we''ve already been exposed. Gods, I''m so stupid."


    "No you''re not," he held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You''re the woman I fell in love with. We''ll get through this. Whatever happens, I don''t regret anything that we''ve done."


    Dene calmed down somewhat.


    Now both dressed, Jonathan took Dene''s hand into his and they both came out of the room. He took another look at Angela, who avoided eye contact, and they made their way through the hallways, followed by the noble lady and the guards.


    Along the way, he questioned Angela about how his father found out, to which she answered, "one of the maids informed us. She came to your room to bring breakfast and found you two sleeping naked in the bed."


    Of course. Like other nobles, Jonathan was constantly attended by someone. Had she been thinking straight, Dene would have remembered it.


    When they finally arrived, Jonathan and Angela entered the Duke''s private audience chamber, while Dene had to wait outside. His father wanted to speak to him first.


    The guards didn''t speak, which left Dene alone with her thoughts. She managed to calm herself some more. This could be salvaged. Sure it looked bad, but if this was the end for her, then she would already be on her way to the dungeons or the executioner instead of here. Not that it couldn''t change, but she preferred not to think about it.


    She had been brought here, then it was likely she would be asked to speak. If so, when she was called in, she would claim it to be a moment of weakness. They were celebrating his victory and one thing led to another. Nothing too serious and it would never happen again. Maybe they would end separated, which would hurt her, but nothing unbearable. She hoped.


    Dene''s thoughts were interrupted by the pathetic excuse for a man that was coming her way.


    "What a beautiful day this is," Richard spoke with an insufferable smile. "I just heard the most glorious piece of news. Care to guess what?"


    Dene remained silent, deciding not to engage with the worthless little man.


    He just continued talking, not caring if she spoke or not. "Apparently my dear brother was tricked, seduced by an evil witch!"


    She continued to ignore him.


    "If you ask me, it didn''t take much effort. Not the brightest one, that brother of mine."


    "Who are you to talk about who''s bright or not?" Dene snapped at him without thinking. All it took was one insult towards Jonathan.


    "Touched a nerve, did I?" He spoke as if already expecting her reaction. "You had your fun these past years; tainting our home with your detestable presence," he paused for a second, his smile growing larger. "But this ends today."


    "You''re wrong and you know it. Jonathan will stand up for me. He is a true man, an honorable man, differently from you."


    His smile was almost maniacal now. "You think Jonathan and his honor are going to save you? What a dumb whore. Let me tell you, you''re going to the dungeons in the best of cases, and dear Jonathan will be the one to send you there. Maybe I''ll even pay a visit, so you can be where you were always supposed to be: On your knees while choking on my cock!" He laughed.


    One guard opened the door to the audience chamber for Richard to enter, then closed it again.


    If his plan was to disturb Dene''s calm, then he succeeded. ''Pathetic coward,'' she thought angrily. He only dared to say such things because of the guards around. If it were just the two of them, she would beat him to a pulp.


    As anger went away, fear came back accompanied by doubt. Would Jonathan really abandon her? He said he doesn''t regret a thing, could it be because there''ll be no consequences for him? Richard lived with his brother his whole life, maybe he knew something she didn''t.


    It took too long for her to think straight again. Richard''s words were like worms burrowing into her mind.


    All this while she heard nothing coming from the chamber. There were spells that could block sound, but such an important room was likely enchanted instead.


    An enchantment to block sound would be cheaper in the long run, and wouldn''t require a Warlock inside the room maintaining the spell.


    When the door finally opened again a lean, chestnut-haired woman called for her. Cari Olsen, Jonathan, and Richard''s younger sister. Unlike most noble women, her hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and she wore dark brown breeches with a white shirt. Dene could count in one hand the number of times Cari ever wore a dress.


    She disliked Richard just as much as Dene and liked Jonathan... definitely not as much as Dene, but they were very good brothers.


    Maybe she and Dene could have been friends if she wasn''t a staunch follower of the Holy Flame.


    The Duke''s private audience chamber seemed to double function as a study. To the right of who entered, and away from the window, stood a bookcase that covered half of the wall, with a couple of velvet armchairs by its side. Richard sat in one of them with one leg over the other. He looked like a spectator watching a play.


    In front of the room''s only window was a large, oak desk. The Duchess was seated behind it, donning a fitted red kirtle and a golden necklace. Angela stood to the back and left of her.


    Dressed in a red tunic, the Duke was leaning back at the front of the desk, arms crossed and brows furrowed as he stared at his oldest son. Jonathan stood in the middle of the room with his hands behind his back while matching his father''s stare.


    They were all silent.


    Dene walked to Jonathan''s side and his father was the one to break the silence. Addressing her, he spoke, "my son doesn''t deny that he shared a bed with you. I take it you won''t either."


    "No, your Grace, but if I may," Dene began and after no order to stop, she continued. "For the last month, I''ve been helping Jonathan train for the contest against the Olsandres. Yesterday, he single-handedly defeated seven opponents, something that has never happened in past contests and will likely never repeat in the future.


    "As such, during yesterday''s banquet, we had to celebrate. We drank more wine than we should''ve and after a moment of weakness, we shared a bed. I assure your Grace that this was the first time it happened and that it will never repeat."


    The Duke remained silent, but his furrow eased somewhat. He turned to Jonathan and asked, "is that true?"


    Jonathan looked down, took a deep breath and then looked back at his father.


    Dene also turned to Jonathan, waiting for his answer. From the corner of the eye, she could see Richard. He continued smiling.


    And then it dawned on her.


    At that moment, Jonathan''s parents would want nothing more than to pretend this never happened. The smart thing to do, the same that Dene did, would be to try and minimize what happened as much as possible.


    But love and passion often caused people to do stupid things. Those were what led her to think it was a good idea to bed the Duke''s son in his own castle, where a battalion of servants came and went, attending to all his needs. More stupid still was to remain in bed with him. And even more stupid was to forget to check if the damn door was locked.


    Add a rigid sense of honor to the mix and you have Jonathan. So when he declared his love for her along with a refusal to marry Estrid ¡ªthe Wynne girl he was supposed to marry¡ª, she wasn''t totally surprised. Even less so by the Duke''s order to confine Jonathan to his quarters and her to the dungeons.


    And finally, Richard burst into laughter. "I''ll be seeing you later," he said to Dene as the guards dragged her away.


    --------------------


    Dene was in complete darkness. The second level of the dungeons never received any natural light. She didn''t know for how long she had been in the cell, but it had been long. Not even the bells sound reached all the way down here.


    Her cell was in the deepest part of the dungeon, by the side of a door that seemed to go down to the third level. Maybe some light was able to creep through the door to the upper level, so they wanted her as far from it as possible.


    She was the only one in this level, which only added to her torment.


    Her shoulder still hurt somewhat. The guards literally threw her in the cell and she hit the rough stone wall with quite some force. Fortunately, her shoulder was the one to cushion the impact, instead of her shaved head. They locked the door and just walked away, carrying with them the lightstone they had brought, and leaving her in the dark.


    Ever since then, no one came again, or at least not to this level. Once in a while, she heard movement from the level above. She tried to cast a night vision spell, but it was useless. The stone walls were mixed with triotium fragments, and the cell bars were made entirely of the metal.


    Usually, the metal had to be in direct contact with the spellcaster to work, preferably in the form of a collar. But there was so much of the metal in the cell that it still managed to prevent her from casting spells.


    Using her strength was just as useless, neither the bars nor any of the stones seemed to budge.


    Therefore, all she could do was sit and wait. Hopefully, death would come before Richard could get his hands on her.


    The creaking of a door opening brought her to attention. It was the door to the upper level. Whoever it was, they were here for her. The door was quickly closed again and she could hear footsteps approaching. It didn''t seem to be more than one person, which didn''t make sense. Unless¡­


    Richard. So he had come. If so, she would go down fighting. The footsteps were approaching, so she had to move fast.


    She used her hands to feel around the walls for any protruding stone. When she found a slightly sharp edge, Dene took a deep breath, placed the side of her head against it and dragged her head on the wall.


    The pain was bearable and she could feel blood oozing from the wound. The cell was becoming slightly illuminated as Richard approached. He was carrying a lightstone, no doubt.


    Dene sat on the ground with her back against the wall. Her head was down over her left shoulder so that her wound was fully visible.


    She didn''t know why Richard thought he alone could beat her, but it didn''t matter. As soon as he entered the cell, she would fall upon him with everything she had.


    As the footsteps approached, she slowed down her breathing until Richard finally stopped in front of her cell. Instead of the scraping sound of the key entering the lock, what came next was a loud clatter of keys hitting the ground, which sounded even louder in the dead silence of the dungeon.


    It took all of her not to flinch at the unexpected noise, but this did work in her favor. He was probably drunk, which would make her ambush even simpler.


    Richard picked the keys from the ground and proceeded to fumble with the lock. When he finally opened the cell and rushed inside, Dene attacked. She opened her eyes and aimed her kick on his foot.


    It connected, causing him to fall to one knee with a grunt of pain. She was about to follow up with a punch to the groin when Richard cried out, "Dene, wait."


    That wasn''t Richard''s voice.


    She looked up to see Jonathan looking back at her.


    Without thinking twice, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

 32 Escape

    They had been apart for half a day but it felt like years. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to do. Kissing was first on the list, right above punching.


    Jonathan gave a low grunt of pain and held his side where she hit him, "what was that for?"


    "For not lying back then." Dene knew his reasons for telling the truth and was happy for knowing how he felt. But it didn''t annul her anger over what he did. "I know how highly you regard honor, but sometimes you must be willing to lie. What if instead of the dungeons, your father had ordered my execution. Worse, what if it was your brother coming here? You don''t know how anxious I''ve been."


    Jonathan said nothing and Dene took the time to calm herself down. It wasn''t fair to blame him, especially when this whole situation started because of her.


    "I''m sorry, it''s been hard waiting here," she said after some time. It was hard, waiting in the dark with no one to talk to, while Jonathan was confined to his quarters. She got up from the ground and took another look at him.


    He was wrapped in a nondescript black cloak that extended down to his ankles, revealing only the leather boots he was wearing.


    She offered him a hand, but he didn''t take it.


    "You''re not going to hit me again, are you?"


    "Not unless you want me to." He didn''t seem totally convinced but took her hand anyway. "Again, I''m sorry for hitting you."


    "It''s okay, I understand. But why would I want you to hit me?"


    Dene chuckled. "I''ll explain it to you when you''re older. Now tell me how did you get here, and how can we get out."


    "Well, do you know how this castle wasn''t built by the Olsens? The ones who built it, I can''t remember their names, but they died out long ago. Anyways they put a lot of secret passages here, some that not even my father knows about."


    "And I take one of those passages is in your bedroom."


    "Almost. It''s actually in yours. Behind the wardrobe, there''s a movable wall. I discovered it when I was a kid. That''s part of the reason why I never had any servants using it, as I was afraid that someone would find out."


    Dene took a deep breath. "So you''re telling me that this whole time I''ve been sleeping there and someone could''ve just come in, slit my throat, got out and no one would know who did it."


    "No, I''m the only one who knows about it."


    "As far as you know." She took another breath. The idea of punching him again was gaining form. At least she could be sure that his father didn''t know, else he wouldn''t have confined Jonathan to his quarters. "Forget it, how do we get out?"


    Right, you''re gonna need this, Jonathan reached inside his cloak and she caught sight of a red glint. She quickly identified it as the ruby carved with the inscription of a dragon he had as the pommel of his sword. At least he came prepared. From inside his cloak, he grabbed another similar one along with a pair of knee-high leather boots.


    "I understand the cloak, but why do I need these boots to get out?"


    "We''re not going through where I came, none of the passages up there lead outside. That''s why instead, we''re going down to the third level."


    "So there is a passage down there that will take us outside?"


    "Kinda. It will take us to the sewers which then will take us outside."


    "At least we''re getting out," she tried to look on the bright as she put on the boots, donned the cloak and followed Jonathan down into the third level.


    The sewers smelled as well as one would imagine. With only the single lightstone as a source of light, they walked through the dark galleries, following the water flow while ankles deep in freezing filth. After half an hour they changed directions and started walking upstream. Continuing downstream, according to Jonathan, would take them to the Grey River that ran adjacent to the city''s north and eastern walls.


    The river was too wide and the current moved too fast for one to swim in it. And that was not taking into account the freezing cold. No, they would have to leave the city through the gates.


    They walked even longer upstream. Dene knew nothing about where they were, so she only followed Jonathan. At times he would stop, look around and ultimately backtrack, but he assured her that he knew where he was going.


    Jonathan finally stopped in front of a wooden ladder that extended upwards into the darkness, to beyond where the lightstone could illuminate. "If I''m right, this is the closest exit to the western gates."


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    "Are you sure?" Dene asked with some doubt.


    "As sure as I can be."


    That would have to do. The ladder trembled with each step they took, the rungs bending under their weight and all the time Dene worried that one of these rungs would break under her. Which fortunately didn''t happen, and after five excruciating minutes they came out of the sewers in the city''s slums.


    Its fetid air was still a big improvement when compared to where they came out from. The first thing she saw outside were the inner city walls in the distance. Interspersed atop the battlements were lightstones that released a soft white light, the same for the streets inside the walls. That was where the nobility and the wealthy lived, so of course it was better maintained.


    To her back, rising from behind a ramshackle building were the outer city walls. ''Guess he was right after all.'' Not that she would say it after seeing the smug look on his face.


    Their first course of action was to leave the city. The two walked through a series of narrow streets until they were finally facing the gates. Dene wrapped herself tighter with her cloak as to not allow even an inch of her dark skin to peek through.


    Fortunately, none of the guards at the gates tried to stop them, or even approach them for that matter. One upside of the sewer stench that clung to them.


    The two walked with the Grey River to their right for most of the night and dawn until reaching a small village where they bought a pair of horses. Jonathan didn''t bring much in sense of coins, but he did manage to snatch a small ruby which he used to pay for the horses, some supplies and still have some change.


    Now they had to decide where to go. Heading east and leaving the kingdom was out of the question. The two smaller, neighboring kingdoms were not in a peaceful state at the moment.


    They couldn''t stay in the Great Plains either, the longer they remained, the greater the chance of capture. So that meant they had to go either northwest to the Highlands or southwest to Somerford. Either to the Wynnes'' lands or the Olsandres''.


    It would be harder for Jonathan''s family to search for them in Somerford. On the other hand, Duchess Wynne was Jonathan''s great-grandmother, and he believed she would help them.


    Dene had no preference for either, as both options had their risks. Therefore, Jonathan was the one to decide, and he chose to go to the Highlands. "Despite everything, I''m still an Olsen," he argued. "Maybe after father calms down, my grandmother would speak for us."


    They both knew it would be a tough argument to make, but it was still better than remaining in the Great Plains.


    Having decided on their destination, the next step was how to get there. They had to assume that Jonathan''s parents would be sending people after them, besides also ordering the soldiers stationed around the duchy to keep an eye out for the two. They would need help.


    Jonathan first considered asking for Father Anderson''s help, as he had no doubt the old man would help. The old man had been promoted to Priest and was put in charge of a temple in a village east of Rivertown. It was just an excuse to get him out of Lastan, as the other priests couldn''t expel him, but that''s another story.


    The problem was that the village was to the southwest, meaning they would need to make quite a detour to get there.


    "We could head to Grenfell," Jonathan suggested. "Earl Warrin is a friend of the family, and in his youth, he too got into problems because of love. Maybe he will sympathize with us."


    Dene didn''t point out how many "maybes" this plan had. She knew he was aware of it.


    But for lack of a better option, the two mounted their horses and began their travel. They crossed the Riverwood forest, passed over the Quintum bridge and made their way through the countryside towards Grenfell.


    In between avoiding the major towns, taking the longer and less populated roads and seeking shelter from snowstorms, the travel that could be done in a week took them two months to complete. Spring was almost upon them when the Grenfell walls came into view. It made Dene wish for a Gale, the giant eagle-like magical beasts used to carry people in litters. It could have taken them to Jonathan''s grandmother in just a few hours.


    But the important was that they had arrived, and not a moment too soon. Dene couldn''t handle the nausea for much longer.

 33 Meeting the Earl

    "There will be no turning back after this. Are you ready?" Jonathan asked from under his cloak. They were leaning against a shop''s wall while looking at the guarded gates down the street.


    Dene gave a slight nod. There was already no turning back, neither to their comfortable life in Lastan or even further back, to the life in the desert with her family.


    "Alright then", Jonathan sighed. "Let''s go."


    Dene kept her head down and her hands inside the cloak as they walked towards Headworth Keep. On the way here, Jonathan had told her part of its history but she was in no mood to recall or even care for it. The nausea began a fortnight ago. At first, she hoped it was because of the stress of living on the run, coupled with the lack of sleep and irregular meals. But as the days went by and the discomfort refused to go away, she had to accept the fact that she was pregnant.


    As if the Olsens didn''t already have a reason to want her dead, now she was set to give birth to a bastard with a claim to the dukedom. Dene decided to hide it from Jonathan for now. Pregnant or not, their immediate goal still was to leave the Great Plains.


    "Halt!" Barked one of the guards as his hands rested on the hilt of his sword.


    "Take me to your lord," Jonathan ordered and raised a sealed letter. "I have an important message for him."


    The wax impression depicted a dragon, the same as the ruby on the pommel of Jonathan''s sword. Years ago he decided to use it as his personal seal so that the sword''s weight would represent the weight of his decisions.


    "And who might you two be?" The man showed no sign of moving.


    "Are you deaf or daft? I told you to move, else I make it known to the Earl that I was delayed because of you."


    The guard looked to the side, seeking aid from his colleague.


    "Just go with them," she said, "what danger could two Crusaders present? And if they''re lying, I''d like to see them trying to escape."


    The man nodded and headed inside the castle, signaling to Jonathan and Dene to follow. He didn''t attempt to start a conversation, to which Dene was all too thankful, and soon enough they had climbed up to the Earl''s private chamber.


    "Come in," came a voice from inside in response to the guard''s knocking on the door.


    Dene and Jonathan followed the man into the room, which was best described as austere. The gray-haired Earl sat behind an unadorned oak desk, between an open window to one side and a tea table to the other.


    "My lord, these two claim to have an important letter for you."


    "Is that so?" He took his eyes out from the document he was reading and towards the two. "Go on then, show me the letter."


    Jonathan made no move to hand the letter, after all, it was just a blank sheet of paper. Instead, he raised his hand to the hood and pulled it backward, to the Earl''s puzzlement and then astonishment. "Good afternoon, my lord."


    Earl Williard Warrin was about to say something when he seemed to recall the guard still in the room. "Leave us, and speak nothing of what you saw here." He waited for the man to leave, stood up, checked if he had gotten far and closed the door.


    "Boy, do you have any idea how much trouble you''ve caused?" Williard towered over Jonathan despite being a full head shorter. "Your father put up a notice with all his subjects to keep an eye out for you. We''ve all been worried sick because of your little escapade, hell, your mother..." He went on for a few minutes, going over all that happened after their disappearance was discovered.


    Dene wasn''t surprised that he knew so much about what happened. Jonathan told her he would as he was one of the few people his father trusted.


    "Hey Williard, nice to see you too," Jonathan spoke after the old man finally took a break. "I''m fine, by the way, how are you?"


    "Oh, don''t give me that, we''ve all been worried about you." He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Is that her?" He asked pointing at Dene.


    Before answering, Jonathan took her hand into his, their fingers intertwining. "That''s Dene," he spoke with a tender smile.


    Seeing no more reason to hide, she too pulled off the cloak, revealing her dark skin and short, coiled hair. She chose not to shave it, same for Jonathan with his beard, both helping to hide their identities even if just a little.


    If the Earl had any animosity against her, then he hid it well. "Why have you come here? Perhaps to turn yourselves in?"


    "Of course not."


    "I didn''t think so. Why then?"


    "We are going to the Highlands, to meet with my grandmother. Hopefully, she will help us talk things over with my father."


    "And let me guess, you want my help to get to her."


    Jonathan simply nodded.


    The Earl slowly shook his head. "Boy¡­ just go home."


    "I can''t do that."


    "Yes you can," Williard insisted. "Your father won''t be too hard on his punishment. He loves you, his ''favorite child'' he once told me."


    "And what about Dene? If we go back she''ll die, Father will have her killed." Jonathan squeezed her hand tighter, and Dene knew how nervous he was.


    "She''ll die only if she stays with you." He turned to Dene and addressed her for the first time, "You''ve stayed in Lastan for what, five years?"


    The question caught Dene a bit by surprise for the sole reason that it was directed at her. Jonathan had always been the one to talk to other people, as most would prefer to act as if she wasn''t there. Nonetheless, she answered, "a few months short of that, but yes my lord."


    He nodded to himself. "And after all this time following Jonathan around you must have met his parents a few times, enough to form an opinion about them right?" After her nod of agreement he continued, "then you should already know that they only want you dead because of your relationship with their son. Quite frankly, neither Damian nor Margred would spare a thought for you otherwise."


    Dene remained silent. Jonathan tried ¡ªand failed¡ª to come up with an argument. As such, Williard made his point once again, "that''s why I''m telling you to go home, boy, and accept your marriage to that Wynne girl. If you truly love this southerner, then you''ll understand that you two can''t be together." He stopped talking and let his words sink in.


    Dene knew what this meant. Williard wouldn''t help them, and she doubted he would let them leave. They had failed.


    "I understand that," Jonathan was the one to break the silence. "I also understand that if I do as you say, then I may regret it for the rest of my life."


    "Jo-" The Earl made to speak but Jonathan cut him off.


    "I know what you''re going to say. That I''m too young or that I don''t know what I''m doing, but let me ask you this. If instead of me and Dene, it was you and the Queen Mother, either today or back then, what would you do?"


    It was his turn to fail at coming up with an argument. Instead, he rested a closed hand against his mouth, lips touching the golden ring on his index finger.


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    Jonathan had told her the story after they decided on coming to Grenfell. A few years short of two centuries ago, it was announced the betrothal of Lady Breannei Tarre to Desmor Velaryon, then prince and heir to the kingdom. A week after the announcement though, the bride vanished only to be found a fortnight later in the city of Grenfell alongside one young Williard Warrin.


    She argued to be simply visiting her friend to tell him the news, and that the messenger pigeon she sent to inform her family most likely got lost along the way. Jonathan''s grandfather, the then Duke, even came into the discussion, confirming her story and declaring that the young woman had arranged to visit him.


    And so, all parties involved chose to act as if the short love affair never happened.


    Before leaving back home she gave Williard a golden ring, and that was the last time the two ever saw each other again.


    The mention of his long lost love seemed to act as a blow to Williard''s spirit.


    "Please, all we ask is for help to get to my grandmother and I''ll be forever grateful to you."


    The seconds dragged on while the old man remained unmoving. Finally, his arm dropped down to the side seemingly in defeat. "Alright," he spoke as if every word out of his mouth pained him, "I''ll help you."


    Dene breathed a sigh of relief. She felt Jonathan''s grip loosen up and only then realized how hard they had been holding each other''s hands.


    "I can''t send you flying, else your father will know that I helped you. I''ll get some carts, a couple dozen soldiers and disguise them as a merchant caravan and you''ll hide among them. It should be done by tomorrow. In the meantime I''ll find a place here for you to hide, so put your hood back on. The fewer people knowing you''re here the better."


    And so the two were led to a room in the eastern tower that could probably fit in Jonathan''s washroom back at Dragonblood Castle. It had a single bed, a dusty nightstand and a window so small that Dene could barely fit her head through. Through it, she could see only part of the movement at the castle.


    The sun was setting. A couple of guards were talking as they walked through the courtyard. Atop the southern tower, a group of workers tirelessly replaced the shingles while in a corner at the foot of the same tower was located the pigeon loft, where an old woman fed the birds. If any Gale was kept in the castle, then it would be as far from it as possible as to not scare the pigeons.


    Having to stay hidden in the room, that was the only entertainment they had. Or at least that she had. Along with a tray of food and clean sheets, the Earl had sent them a couple of books to pass the time, but Dene found it hard to enjoy the autobiographies of some dead nobles she never heard of.


    "You should come back to bed," Jonathan lightly suggested.


    "I will soon, just wanted to enjoy the view." That was a lie. They were both lying in bed when she was hit by a sudden wave of nausea and had to get up.


    "Are you sure? You don''t look well."


    "Yeah, it has been a hard couple of months."


    Jonathan stood up and embraced her from behind. "Just another reason to come sleep." He kissed her neck and snuggled his face against her cheek. "It''s been tough, I know, but the worst is behind us. Tomorrow, we''ll take the first steps towards our new life. Now come," he lightly pulled her back to bed.


    ----------


    In his dimly lit office, Williard gently caressed the ring he received from Breannei so long ago, all the while Jonathan''s question repeated again and again in his mind. "What would I do in their place?"

 34 Massacre

    It was morning. Dene sat in bed by herself, while Jonathan left to talk to the Earl about their coming journey. He invited her to come along, but she decided to stay, in case another wave of morning sickness hit her. She would need to tell him soon, preferably after they had talked to his grandmother.


    In the meantime, she attempted to distract herself by reading the books they had received yesterday. It wasn''t going well.


    In public events, nobles tended to talk more to hear the sound of their own voice than anything else. They would find every opportunity to tell tales of honor, courage and all of that. That was in public only. In private ¡ª exemplified by Richard ¡ª they could be as vicious as any highwayman, with the difference being that they were the ones sending people to the gallows.


    As such, they tend to exaggerate their feats, if one wishes to put it mildly. And it seemed their autobiographies were no different. She never heard of Jarvas Knigh up until then, but she doubted he did actually manage to slay a dragon by himself. Her ancestors once fought against a wounded dragon, and they needed almost two dozen Paladins and Warlocks to kill it.


    "What a load of crap," she muttered before dropping the book on the floor where it fell open. She headed to the hole in the wall they called a window, hoping for any sort of entertainment. Not that there were many differences.


    The morning sun cast its rays over the battlements and would soon be reaching the empty courtyard. Yesterday, the workers had finished replacing the shingles and now they were applying a coat of varnish. And as for the pigeon loft¡­


    Dene froze, her heart stuck in her throat. "No," she mumbled, her vision fixed on an empty pigeon cage. "No no no no no no no!" She rushed to grab her cloak and was immediately out of the room, covering herself up as she ran down the tower''s stairs. Reaching the courtyard, she then ran with the walls to her left, towards the pigeon loft.


    It was a large wooden shack with the bigger part of its walls made up of a chain-link fence. Dene entered the shack and stopped in front of the empty cage.


    Homing pigeons worked because they instinctively knew the way to their nests and would fly towards it when released. To keep track of where each pigeon would head to, its destination would be written down on its cage.


    The name on the empty cage confirmed her fears. "Lastan," she muttered to herself. They had been betrayed.


    Dene ran out of the building but stopped after just a few steps.


    Five guards were running towards her, all Crusaders, none looking friendly. Five Crusaders versus her alone, not so different from when she fought Richard and his goons, but this time she didn''t have a knife. This time she had something better.


    Dene retreated into the building where it was darker. The five followed suit and formed a semi-circle around her with their weapons in hand. They showed no sign of fear, worry and more importantly, no sign of triotium. A mistake, probably none being accustomed to fighting someone who uses both body and spells. Most people weren''t.


    An Archmage will lose against a Crusader ten out of ten times. Their Mage spells would only serve to harass until they exhausted themselves, while any Archmage spells would leave them defenseless long enough for the Crusader get in close range.


    But an Archmage and a Crusader? That''s when things get interesting.


    Three guards rushed her together while the two others remained behind, both for support and also so that they wouldn''t get in the way of one another. Smart, but they had already lost from the start.


    From a dark crevice, Dene created a shadow leash that pulled on the sword of the man to her left, throwing him off balance. She then formed a ball of shadows around the head of the woman to her right. Now she only had the woman in the middle to worry about.


    It took some effort, but Dene managed to dodge her downward cleave. From there she grabbed her head and pulled it down to meet with Dene''s rising knee. The woman fell down cold and Dene took her sword.


    The ball of shadows remained around the other woman''s head as she swung her weapon left and right in the hopes of hitting Dene. The man she threw off-balance was already getting up, while the two who stayed behind were now lunging forward with their swords pointed at her chest.


    Dene feinted right and jumped left, confusing one of the men rushing her, and sending him straight at the madly slashing woman. Her sword cut flesh and the man was down.


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    The second one was still coming towards her while the guy she threw off-balance was up already. Dene once again pulled at him with her shadow leash, but this time he was prepared and stood firm.


    No matter, for it delayed him long enough for her to deflect the second one''s attack, trip him and pierce his chest while he was down.


    The last man standing tried to catch her by surprise with a sideways slash. Dene abandoned the sword, rolled beneath the man''s attack and grabbed another sword from the ground, dropped by the man she''d just killed.


    Desperation was clear in the last man''s eyes. He looked towards the door but Dene stood between the two.


    "Not so valiant now, are we?" She mocked.


    He attempted a diagonal slash that was met by Dene''s blade, same for the subsequent thrust and upwards cleave. He then messed up, tried an overhead slash and she took the opportunity to sheath her sword in his unprotected stomach, its tip protruding from his back. He collapsed with a grunt.


    Dene stepped on the neck of the woman she knocked unconscious and crushed it, making sure she was dead. Right then, her ball of shadow dissipated and the other woman could finally see again.


    The man she cut was now bleeding out on the ground while all the others had been killed by Dene. She then took the logical course of action; screamed in horror, dropped her sword and ran towards the doorway.


    Dene tripped her with a shadow leash just as she crossed the door, causing her to fall face-first on the ground.


    The woman tried to beg, but Dene didn''t care for it and pierced her back with her own sword, bringing out gasps from the surrounding. Her fight didn''t go unnoticed, it seemed, as servants stared horrified at her through the keep''s windows, not unlike the few guards atop the battlements.


    But there were no signs of the Earl, and more importantly, no signs of Jonathan. ''I need to find him fast,'' she thought when something crashed down a few paces in front of her. No, not crashed. Landed.


    The man had jumped from the eastern tower where Dene had stayed, and so she knew he had been after her. And most importantly, he was a Paladin. He was running as soon as his feet touched the ground and then hit Dene with a flying kick.


    She barely managed to raise her arms in front of her body before being hurled back through the doorway. The pain in her forearms hadn''t even registered when she crashed through a wooden pillar and finally stopped after hitting the wall, crushing any birds that had been placed there.


    Ignoring her aching body''s protests, Dene quickly stood up to defend herself against the follow-up attack that didn''t come. Instead of rushing after her, the man first pulled the sword from the dead woman''s back, then carefully entered the building, taking note of his surroundings and the fresh bodies.


    He was dressed in a brown tunic with golden accents, silk breeches, and leather gloves, all too nice and intricate to not belong to a noble. His dark beard was perfectly trimmed, while his shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a ponytail.


    This would be a hard fight. The reason she could so easily defeat the Crusaders were her Mage spells, which would be mostly useless against a Paladin.


    Dene flinched after feeling something warm flowing down her forehead. She understood what it was the next instant. Blood. Her blood.


    That''s when she realized there was a way for her to win this fight. The technique that she gained from the Secret Realm, blood magic.


    ''No!'' She quickly abandoned this line of thought. That was the last option, it had always been. The price was already too great when her life was the only one at risk, nevermind now.


    No, she had to survive this on her own. Dene snatched a sword from the ground just as he finally focused on her once again.


    Without a word, he lunged at her with an upwards slash. She knew that trying to block it would end up with her being cut in half. Instead, she jumped to the side while pulling herself away with a shadow leash.


    Even so, the blade passed mere inches from her face, a gust of wind blowing in her ear. He changed to a sideways slash, and once again she pulled at herself to help dodge it, this time the blade cutting her cloak.


    Dene formed a ball of shadow around his head, hoping to take away some of his vision. Instead, he didn''t even flinch or hesitate, continuing his flurry of attacks as if he could still see her.


    He probably could, a Paladin''s vision being too good to be disturbed by such a simple spell. Three more times he attacked before a shout from the outside caught them both by surprise.


    "Dene!" Jonathan called out. Through the chain-link fence, she could see him sprinting in her direction, sword in hands. "Harrin, stop!"


    The man ignored him and continued his attacks.


    Dene wanted to run out towards Jonathan, but the slightest distraction could very well spell her end. So she would have to gamble.


    She created a shadow leash from behind him and used it to pull on his leg, knowing that it wasn''t strong enough to trip him. Fortunately, it didn''t have to.


    The man Harrin reacted by instinct, slashing back at an opponent that wasn''t there. He quickly realized what had happened and slashed at the escaping Dene, still managing to cut an inch deep into her side.


    Regardless, she didn''t stop. One moment she was out of the door, and the next she was in Jonathan''s arms.


    Harrin seemed ready to give chase when a loud, "enough," rang out and he stopped.


    Over Jonathan''s shoulder, she could see a tired-looking Earl Williard walking their way.


    "What the hell are you doing?" Jonathan demanded.


    "I''m sorry," he caressed his golden ring, "but this is for your own good."


    Jonathan was about to speak again when Dene turned his head towards her, "he sold us out, your father knows we-"


    She didn''t even get to finish before a thunderclap echoed through the skies.


    Thunder? Without a cloud in sight? No, this was no thunder.


    Gale eagles could fly at extreme speeds, enough to cross the Great Plains in a couple of hours. And whenever they reached a certain speed, something inexplicable would happen, a sound explosion of sorts.


    They all looked to the skies where one such gale eagle approached from the southeast, carrying on its talons a giant litter, but it might as well be bringing Dene''s death.


    Jonathan held her tighter, apprehension clear in his eyes while strangely, Dene was getting calmer by the second.


    Before the Olsen''s soldiers arrival, there were still multiple paths she and Jonathan could take. Not now. Now, there was either death or using her technique.


    "Jonathan," she gently asked, "do you know how to ride a gale?"


    With tearful eyes, he looked back at her not knowing how to answer.


    The gale eagle was getting closer by the second. She could already discern the people inside the litter.


    "Everything will be fine, trust me," her hands cupped his cheeks. "But I need to know, can you ride it?"


    He slowly nodded, "Ye-yes."


    Gusts of wind filled the courtyard as the gale prepared to land. Some of the Paladins were already jumping out of the litter towards them, while two Warlocks chanted their spells from inside.


    "Good, I''ll take care of this," Dene showed a gentle smile at the man she loved. "You just worry about getting us out of here." Then, without warning, she brought her hand to the fresh wound at her side. Instead of holding the bleeding, her hand dug deeper inside.


    The pain was¡­ less than she expected. But that was just the beginning. It was hard for her to think about the harm she was about to inflict upon herself, and at the same time, also liberating in a sort of way.


    She thought back to when she gained her technique, the message shown to her.


    Blood magic.


    With this technique, you can become the greatest spellcaster that ever lived, even if for just a moment.


    Normal spells worked by burning the mana in the surroundings as fuel, and the more powerful the spellcaster, more powerful the spell.


    Not blood magic, though. Using blood as a sacrifice, one could create spells as powerful as they wanted, regardless if one was a Mage or a Warlock. With the price being one''s life. Every spell cast would cost them years from their lifespan.


    The first of the Paladins landed on the ground and she cast her spell. From the Paladin''s shadow rose a pitch-black arm.


    That was it, no time wasted casting the spell. She just willed, and it appeared.


    When the man noticed the arm, it had already coiled itself around his body. Its hand forced its way into his mouth and down his throat, destroying every organ it found.


    The second Paladin followed closely behind. A second arm sprung up from the wall''s shadow, grabbing the man and pulling him headfirst into the stone wall.


    A third one tried to run away after landing, but a new arm wrapped itself around his neck and crushed it.


    Two more arms rose from Dene''s shadow, rising towards the litter, grabbing the two defenseless Warlocks, and pulling them outside towards the ground at maximum force. Their bodies crashed down with a sickly, but oddly satisfying splat.


    Maybe following its rider''s orders ¡ª or maybe on instinct ¡ª the gale eagle dropped the litter and flapped its wings to escape.


    It didn''t get very far. Ten, twenty, forty arms sprung up from the ground, grabbing its legs, wrapping themselves around its body and holding down its wings. Try as it might, it could do nothing as the arms forced it to land on the ground.


    An escaping Williard was lifted in the air and thrown against the keep''s walls.


    Harrin tried to rush her from behind, maybe thinking he could catch her by surprise. He thought wrong. Four new arms rose to meet him, each grabbing a limb, then pulling in four different directions.


    The gale kept struggling. Dene willed more arms to hold it down and for the first time, none came. The world started to spin around her. She knew she still had more power in her, but her body couldn''t withstand the blood loss any longer.


    But that was good enough. Anyone who hadn''t fallen victim to her spells was now running away as quickly as they could.


    "Get us out," she spoke in a croaked voice to a wide-eyed Jonathan and pointed at the magical beast. With the last of her forces, she ripped the rider from the gale''s back and flung her over the castle walls.


    That was the last thing her mind registered before the world turned black.

 35 Parting

    Dene woke up to the sounds of a loud argument. Her whole body was weak and she could barely lift her arms. It was like there were weights strapped to her body.


    She knew it was an aftereffect of the blood magic, but she didn''t expect that it would make her feel so¡­ vulnerable. Even more so when she had previously been slaughtering opponents much stronger than her.


    Her weakened body would recover with time, albeit slowly. But after the hit to her lifespan, she would never be able to cultivate again, remaining forever stuck at her current power. Not a great thought to wake up to.


    She lied in a soft mattress covered in white sheets. Too soft for her taste, but she couldn''t complain given the circumstances. The room was small, fitting only the single-bed she was in and a nightstand.


    A single lightstone was placed in the center of each of the cut stone walls, save for the one to her right where a solid wood door was located. The argument was coming from the other side.


    "How can you of all people suggest this?" She immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Jonathan.


    "It''s for her own good." The other man spoke. It sounded familiar, but she couldn''t determine who did it belonged to.


    "Williard said he was acting for my own good when he tried to kill her, and now you want to kill our baby."


    This brought up a series of questions to her mind. Jonathan knew she was pregnant? And this other man wanted to kill the baby? And how could such a thing be for her own good?


    "Jonathan, I''m just stating the facts. Given time to grow, it could very well kill her, and if you keep waiting for her to wake up, then it might be too late."


    There was a moment of silence before Jonathan spoke, "we''ll talk about this later."


    The door then opened and in came Jonathan, dark circles under his eyes while both his hair and beard were an unruly mess. Under an arm, he had a rolled-up towel, while the other carried a water bucket.


    He barely took a step before laying his eyes on Dene. Frozen for a second, Jonathan''s next moves were to drop everything and practically jump at her.


    Neither one spoke, rather choosing to enjoy the silence and the warmth of one another.


    "You''re awake, good," the silence didn''t last long. Following behind Jonathan came in a middle-aged man dressed in the traditional white robes of the Holy Flame. Father Anderson. "We need to talk."


    "She''s been in a coma for a week."


    "I know, but time won''t wait."


    He was about to argue back when Dene brought a hand to his shoulder, "I''m fine."


    "Good. Now, do you want to say it or should I?"


    Jonathan took a deep breath before asking, "why didn''t you tell me you were pregnant?"


    Anderson shook his head in frustration as if wanting him to hurry.


    "I figured we had more immediate things to worry about. I was going to tell you, I swear."


    Jonathan just nodded. Father Anderson cleared his throat and Jonathan glared at him. Regardless, he asked, "How did you manage to cast so many powerful spells so quickly?"


    ''Is that what it was about?'' Dene thought. It made sense that he would have questions after witnessing what she did, but what did this have to do with their baby?


    "It was a technique, blood magic," she decided to be completely honest. "I learned it inside the Secret Realm. Rather than mana, it works by burning the caster''s lifespan." Jonathan had a somber look but didn''t seem surprised about the last part. "You already knew."


    He nodded.


    "What''s going on?"


    Father Anderson was the one to answer. "When Jonathan brought you here I checked your body for injuries. That''s how we found about your pregnancy, and also the consequences of this blood magic. Your body has aged by almost a hundred years."


    Dene raised an eyebrow. That was more than she expected. As a Crusader, she could have lived to around 200 years old and now this number had been cut in half. Having it put into perspective was a bit startling.


    Regardless, she would still do it again. Losing half her lifespan was better than losing all of it.


    "Well, the important thing is that we''re safe now." She tried to look on the bright side.


    "That''s not all. What you did hasn''t affected your body only," he let the full weight of his words sink in. "It¡­ it has also affected the fetus."


    Dene trembled. Was she no longer pregnant? No, just now they had been arguing about aborting her pregnancy. "What happened?"


    "Just as this blood magic has drained your life, the fetus is now doing the same, but at a slower pace. Regardless, if allowed to continue it could kill you."


    "You don''t know that," Jonathan argued in. "It could slow down, you said it yourself."


    "And I also said that it could as well speed up. We don''t know what we''re dealing with here."


    "Well, now we can find out." Taking hold of her hand, Jonathan asked, "Dene, how does it work?"


    The question didn''t register in her mind. The baby was killing her? Why? How?


    "Dene¡­ Dene!" Jonathan called out, bringing her back from her questions. "We need to know, how does blood magic work?"


    "I¡­ don''t know." In the inner grounds of the Secret Realm, one could learn various spells as well as techniques. Anyone could learn the spells depending on their affinities. But the techniques were different.


    Rather than learning blood magic, it was like Dene always knew how to do it, but only then did she realize it. Expecting her to know how it worked because she could do it, was like expecting her to know how her eyes worked because she could see, and she told them so.


    Jonathan hanged his head in defeat. "So, what now?"


    "Now it''s time for you to make a decision," Anderson answered.


    "No," Dene spoke immediately. "This is mine and Jonathan''s child, and I''m keeping it."


    "I understand this is a hard thing to consider, but you should at least think about it."


    "There''s nothing to think about. Will I be able to have another child after this one?" It was a rhetorical question. He said it himself, her body had aged by almost a hundred years, too old to have another child as a Crusader.


    Maybe if she could become a Paladin, but again, her body was too old for that.


    No matter how much he tried, her decision was taken. As such, he decided to leave and let the two have some time alone.


    Jonathan recounted what happened after she blacked out. Back in the castle he immediately carried her to the gale eagle''s back. No one tried to stop him after the mayhem she caused.


    The hard part was controlling the magical beast, so agitated that it was. It flew aimlessly for a quarter of an hour until it finally started listening. Dene was glad she was unconscious for that part. Flying was already taxing enough. Flying on an agitated beast while pregnant would be hell.


    Riding the gale eagle, he could quickly have taken them both to the Highlands. But he was too worried about her, so he chose to go to the only person who would certainly help. And that''s how they ended up here.


    Unfortunately, keeping such a beast hidden would be close to impossible. So he abandoned it one league to the south and¡­ appropriated a horse for the rest of the travel. Which also meant they were back at square one.


    The next day she could already stand up and walk. Soon they would be able to get back on the road.


    "We won''t," Jonathan spoke after she informed him that. "I''ve been thinking¡­ Williard was right. As long as we''re together, my father will never stop hunting us. If I had listened before, maybe you wouldn''t have needed to sacrifice yourself."


    "You couldn''t have known that."


    "But I do now," he was trying hard to hold back his tears. "I''ll go back to my parents."


    "So you''re leaving me?"


    "I can''t let you go through this anymore, and now we''re gonna have a child. I spoke to Father Anderson and he agreed to take care of you both for now."


    Dene felt a pain in her heart. Just when she thought things couldn''t get any worse. "So this is it?"


    Jonathan shook his head, "there''s one more thing." He gently took her in his arms and carried her through the door. The room was in the basement of the temple Father Anderson was in charge of.


    He carried her up the stairs towards the central part of the building, where the Flame was located.


    The temple able to house two hundred people was empty, save for Father Anderson standing at the altar with a book in hand. The doors were all shut while the afternoon sun shone through the stained glass windows.


    Two steps from the priest, Jonathan finally stopped and settled her down. Looking deep in her eyes he spoke, "Dene, you''re the best thing that has ever happened to me. No matter how far we are from one another, I want you to know that I''ll always love you. Dene, will you marry me?"


    She didn''t know what to say. No, she knew but was too elated to speak. Nodding and in tears, she finally managed to release a, "yes."


    Father Anderson went over the formalities.


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    She didn''t follow the Holy Flame, so the brief ceremony held no meaning to her. But it did for Jonathan, and having him confirm how much she meant to him made it special. She just wished it could have happened under better circumstances.


    In the end, the priest opened the book, revealing it to be a registry with the names of all the brides and grooms who had been married there. The page was filled, save for an empty line by the end.


    Father Anderson handed her a quill so she could sign her name followed by Jonathan. He then closed the book and declared, "you now may kiss."


    They enjoyed the rest of the day together, knowing it would soon be over.


    The following day, the three talked about what would happen next. They all agreed that even after Jonathan handed himself, she would still be in danger after what happened in Grenfell. As long as she remained in the Great Plains she would be discovered sooner or later.


    Going to the Highlands now was out of the question, which meant that Somerford was the only option left. And there may be someone there who could help.


    Back in Alistown, before leaving they had met with Jonathan''s friends Hagen and Athalia.


    Hagen''s father was an Earl, and after he died twelve years ago the title passed to him. Or it would have if he weren''t a minor at the time. Therefore his uncle became his regent which would last until the day he graduated from Phoenix academy this year.


    Jonathan handed Dene the pouch with all of their coins along with a sealed letter addressed to Hagen. She already knew its contents, where he asked Hagen to take care of her and their child as a personal favor to the next duke Olsen.


    He would be graduating after the next King''s tourney this summer. When that happened, Father Anderson agreed to escort her to Rochdale, where Hagen''s House was located.


    And so, a day after marrying, they parted.


    A week later the news reached Father Anderson. After almost three months on the run, Jonathan had finally been found.


    Dene tried to keep her mind on her recovery. Everyday Father Anderson would check on the fetus, that had been gradually slowing down in its draining. At this rate, he believed she would still have thirty to forty years left.


    After a month, she was back in fighting shape and after the tourney would leave to Rochdale. Or at least that was Jonathan''s plan.


    ----------


    "You see, after what happened in Grenfell, I didn''t want to risk putting myself at another noble''s mercy." His mother changed the candles for the second time since she began telling her story. Lightstones were too expensive for them.


    When done she sat back in her chair facing him. "So instead, once I was well enough to travel, I grabbed my things and slipped away in the dead of night. As when I was on the run with your father, I kept to the countryside, avoiding any major roads. It was no longer winter, which made it much easier to travel. After six weeks, I was close to Rochdale.


    "I didn''t want to go there, but I also didn''t want to be far, in case I had no other option. So, I looked for the smallest, most backwards place I could around it, and that''s how I ended up in Greenflower."


    Dene finally concluded her story. It had felt like forever when in reality had just been a few hours.


    His mother had gone through so much, each new happening made him want to know more.


    You were a princess? What is the Secret Realm? Was my father really so famous?


    All those questions lost importance in the face of the last one, "you''re going to die?"


    "We''re all going to die, my time is just coming sooner than expected."


    "But-," he wanted to argue but she cut him off.


    "Look, I know you''ve got a lot of questions, and I promise to answer them another day. But that was not why I told you this story. I did it so you could realize one thing: the world is a harsh place. Some have it better than others. That''s not the case for us. Both our social class and our skin color puts us in a disadvantage."


    She cupped his cheeks in her hands, "that''s why I''m so harsh with your training. We need to be capable of standing up for ourselves. Understand?"


    John nodded.


    "Good," she showed a rare, gentle smile and kissed his forehead. "Now get some sleep. If you do well tomorrow then I''ll tell you more." With that she stood up, blew all of the candles save for one, and left, bringing the chair along.


    Left alone in the room, John''s mind was going at a hundred per hour. He had realized it from the first moment how medieval this new world was, but only after her story did the meaning of it truly sink in.


    Under the shirt, he rubbed his shoulder where Tom''s knife had pierced him. Only a scar remained there. Would the man have tried that if he was as strong as his mother? Of course not. Strength is always the greatest of the deterrents.


    She is and isn''t his mother, but it doesn''t matter. John swore to himself he would give all of himself to cultivate. Taking care of Dene was his end, and getting stronger was the means.

 36 Doubts

    First a deep breath, then exhale a bit. Keep a solid stance, feet shoulder-width apart with the left one in front of the right. Heads up, eyes on the target. Automatically, John went through all the motions. With a gloved hand, he nocked the arrow, grasped the bowstring and drew the bow, anchoring the hand against his cheek.


    He kept his arm slightly bent at the elbow so that his forearm didn''t get slapped by the bowstring. The scars on his left one were proof that this lesson was learned the hard way.


    For the last part, he lined the arrow with the target, tilted it slightly upwards to compensate for gravity and released it.


    The whole process wasn''t all that different from firing a gun, which was why he felt a dissonance of sorts over the last step. Instead of building pressure on his fingers, he had to release it.


    Regardless, the end result was the same; something dying.


    The arrow flew for a second before piercing the target with a wet sound. That apple never stood a chance.


    It''s been over three years since John regained his memories. Most of his time has been spent on his training, and it showed. A month prior, he had advanced into a seventh level Fighter, while as a Mage he was already on the third level.


    He felt a surge of excitement every time he advanced. Knowing for sure that he would become more powerful was one of the things that kept him going.


    Every night he would train his spellcasting, while every day he would spar against his mother. Or almost every day.


    Most residents were unaware, but Dene had an official job at the village. One benefit of living in Somerford compared to the Great Plains is that they weren''t actively hated by everyone else.


    She worked for the baron as the village''s huntswoman. Not exactly a demanding job, as her main duty was to follow the old man on his hunts, something he never did anymore.


    After a close call with a wild stag a few years back, he finally accepted that he was no longer a young man and retired from hunting. Dene was allowed to keep her position, given that he didn''t pay her anyways.


    Instead, she made a living by eating or selling whatever she hunted at the forest, which was the main perk of the job. Any other commoner doing the same would be considered a poacher, a crime punishable by death and meted out by Dene on the spot. She only needed to report it to the baron and that was the end of it, any loot from said poachers becoming hers.


    This perk didn''t extend to her family, however, so what she did by sending John to hunt would also be punishable by death if discovered by the baron. Well, out of his sight, out of his mind.


    Unfortunately, her service to the old man also extended to his family, and that''s why she wasn''t at home. One of his sons entered a pissing match with another noble over who would court some young lady who was probably interested in neither of them.


    They settled on a hunt to determine the winner, which meant his mother had to accompany him.


    John chose to wait at home and continue his training, which at the moment meant shooting down apples from the orchard behind their home.


    His mother wasn''t exactly fond of him choosing to use anything other than the traditional weapons of her tribe, but she respected his decision. Being proficient with more weapons was always better than not.


    So besides the twin shortswords, he also got himself a longsword along with the bow and arrow. If in this world, genetics worked as he understood, then he would grow up to be quite tall. It was only fair to make use of this increased reach, hence the longsword.


    But regardless of reach, facing opponents in close range always felt wrong. John doubted he could find an M4 around here, so the bow and arrow were the next best thing. Besides, the relative silence allowed him to think about his current situation.


    It was weird, to say the least. At times he didn''t know who he was, while other times he felt exactly like himself save for being in a teenager''s body.


    Could it be because of the reincarnation? Stupid question; of course it was, but how exactly did that work?


    Were both Johns the same person but with different memories? If so, the awakening only served to recover the memories from his past life.


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    A darker option was that they weren''t the same person, and adult John took over the body of child John. If so, then what happened to child John?


    A third possibility was that they weren''t the same person, and their similarities were something that every person shared with one another. What if, as Locke once wrote, every person was born a tabula rasa, a blank slate molded solely by their experiences and their perception.


    It''s not like people back on Earth were reincarnating all the time, so he had nothing to compare against.


    And how come he was named John in this world as well? That''s one hell of a coincidence. Locke''s first name was also John; it had nothing to do with the matter at hand, but it was interesting nonetheless.


    Even more interesting was this world''s language, Common, spoken by everyone regardless of country, which is already amazing by itself. But what dumbfounded him was the language, or rather languages that were used before the Common. They all sounded similar to languages from Earth.


    The four kingdoms'' names, for example, were all descended from the old language. Gwynland feels like English, while Portos brings to mind Portuguese, although it could also be Spanish. Why were languages from Earth in here? How? Could this be not another world, but actually Earth? If so, then what happened to the Earth he knew?


    Each new question led to new ones and John lost count of how many times he went down these various rabbit holes only to come out with no answers and a dozen more questions. That''s why he hated philosophy.


    There came a rustle of leaves behind John. Not thinking twice, he nocked another arrow as he turned around and shot it.


    "Good aiming," Dene chuckled while holding the arrow by the shaft. "But perhaps you should also mind what you''re aiming at." She spun the arrow around her fingers while the other hand carried a burlap sack. Its bottom was drenched and dripping blood.


    "Good hunt?" John looped the bow over the shoulder and across his body.


    "It was fine. That idiot tried to rush a dire bear with a dagger and I had to save him. Now he''s too afraid to hunt again. Like father, like son, I guess." With a sneer, she dropped the bloody sack by the cottage''s back door.


    His mother changed a lot ever since telling her story. Even Edmund from the general store said as much. She''s been¡­ lighter, happy even. Maybe getting it off her chest was what she needed the most.


    Well that and seeing Jonathan again, but John had no way of helping with that. Every once in a while she would try to gather news related to house Olsen. There had been no mention of Jonathan. That is, other than the scandal about him attempting to elope with a southerner.


    Dene said he was likely imprisoned still, refusing to marry Estrid, the Wynne girl he was supposed to marry. If he truly was as stubborn and honor-bound as she described, then John could imagine that happening.


    He knew how much the man meant for his mother. She confided that, more than once, she considered revealing the key she carried around her neck. It could open the Secret Realm''s core area, so maybe it could be traded for Jonathan.


    It was a remote possibility. A more likely scenario was she getting killed as soon as she revealed herself. And even so, she still considered the idea.


    "At least he won''t be bothering you again anytime soon."


    "Of course, why do you think I let him approach the beast in the first place?" She chuckled again while walking towards the orchard.


    There was nothing he could do about his father''s situation. But at least he could try taking his mother''s mind out of it.


    "So, did the fruits give you any trouble?" She grabbed one of the apples from the ground. Not bothering to remove the arrow, she took a bite out of it with a crunch. "Tomorrow I''ll take you out hunting. If you''re serious about using that bow, then you should do it against real opponents."


    John nodded and knelt down to pick up the apples.


    "Hey," Dene finally pulled off the arrow from the half-eaten fruit. "We still haven''t sparred today."


    The apple was out of her hand the next moment. It brushed against John''s cheek as he threw his head to the side.


    He then jumped back to avoid what he thought would be a punch. Instead, she grabbed and pulled him by the bow still over his shoulder.


    John tried to hit her with a punch, but she moved out of the way, leaving just her leg for him to trip over. He barely managed to raise his head so that he didn''t fall face first.


    He tried to push up, but Dene''s knee was already against his shoulder blade.


    That was his first defeat of the day.

 37 Hunting

    Disclaimer: This chapter contains goreish scenes.


    ----------


    With the bow looped across his chest, John knelt down beside the pawprints. The soil was damp from the rain that had fallen at dawn. A drizzle was all that remained.


    "Oval shaped paws with four toes and visible claws. Either a large or a spotted wolf. A single set of tracks and it isn''t marking its territory either. Probably dispersed from its pack."


    "Very good," Dene complimented from behind him. "And when did it pass through here?"


    He looked back at the tracks. "Doesn''t look like it formed a puddle, so it was after the rain. It''s ahead of us by two hours, at most." He turned to see his mother nodding in approval.


    "So, what do you want to do? Go after this one or look for another game?"


    "Let''s go with this one," John stood up and wiped the dirt from his dark breeches. "Who knows how long until we find another one. I want to be back home before it starts raining again." He glanced at the heavy clouds peeking through the canopy above. It was morning but looked like evening.


    "It''s your decision, after you then."


    John nodded and turned to follow the tracks. He barely took his third step before Dene told him to stop.


    He quizzically looked back and she had a finger on her lips, signaling for him to be quiet. She remained like that for a couple of seconds before saying, "hand me the bow and quiver."


    John did as told and she handed him the empty burlap sack. He was about to ask what it was all about when he heard it. The sound of hooves beating the ground towards them. Not fast, but numerous.


    His first instinct was to stand in front of his mother before realizing it. Whatever was coming, he would be a hindrance rather than of help. So instead, he stood behind her and waited.


    He could make out horses coming from behind the bushes. Before long they appeared. Two, four, six, eight horsemen lined up in front of his mother. John could make out six of them as Fighters, but not the two in the center who seemed to be in charge. He could only hope they were both Crusaders and not Paladins.


    "Greetings," one of the two spoke. His rough black hair only reached down to his ears while his face was perfectly shaved. The bright gold sash over an indigo gown gave him a scholarly look, which was contrasted by the sheathed sword on his hip and gruff looking companions by his side. "Sorry for the disturbance, we were heading to Greenflower when we got lost. Could you please point us the right way?"


    Dene nodded. "If you''re coming from the east, then you''ve already passed it." She pointed to her right, "go south until you find a road, follow it east and you should arrive there in an hour at most."


    The man looked towards where she pointed then back at her. "Thank you very much," he did a slight bow of the head and turned south, his companions following after.


    John followed them with his gaze until he could no longer see them.


    "Here," Dene handed his bow and quiver back. "Forget the wolf, let''s move away from here." She looked back towards where the horsemen disappeared to. "Better safe than sorry."


    With that, his mother grabbed him with one arm and began rushing through the forest. Low branches, tree trunks, rocks, and protruding roots; she would use all of these to avoid stepping on the ground and leaving tracks.


    If she couldn''t make the jump to the next footing, she would grab on a higher branch with a shadow leash and swing from it.


    The cold wind blew on John''s face, all the while he wondered when he would be able to do something similar. His teeth were chattering when they finally landed.


    "Here should be far enough. Do you need some time?"


    John shook his head. He wouldn''t let a bit of cold hold him down.


    It didn''t take him long to find another set of tracks, this one belonging to a¡­ a¡­ "What is this?"


    The front paws were huge, asymmetrical and half as big as a normal bear''s, with long claws. Its hind paws were smaller in comparison. The front ones had sunk two inches into the soil. That thing was big and heavy.


    Dene came to his side. "That''s from a Nandi bear," she spoke with a hint of shock.


    "You never told me about those."


    "Because I never thought you would come across one of them. They are from back home."


    "A bear in the desert?"


    "Further south, the savanna. It must''ve been brought here as an exotic beast and escaped."


    John looked around for any tracks of other animals but found nothing. "How strong is it?"


    "To you? A lot. A single swipe will maul a Fighter to death, and its skin is too thick to be pierced by your arrows."


    "What about my swords?" Besides his bow, he always brought the shortswords along during his hunts, if for whatever reason he couldn''t fight from a distance. The longsword he left back home.


    "It''s possible, but you''ll need to be constantly on the move. The skin below the knees is thinner, so you''ll be able to cut its tendons. From there you go for the neck. Don''t try to slash it, pierce it with as much force as you can."


    John took it all in before following the tracks. While they walked, his mother would give all the advice she could think of.


    "Mom? Are you sure you want to kill this one?"


    "I know what you''re thinking, but no. Those things are way too ferocious and they attack anything that comes close. I almost died against a Nandi bear when I was around your age."


    "Well, thanks a lot. That is a comforting thought when I''m about to fight one of them."


    "You''re welcome," she snickered. "But seriously, don''t worry about killing it. It will die either to you or to the winter."


    Finally, they reached the edge of a clearing. On the opposite side, the Nandi bear rested under the shade of a large oak tree. Besides big and heavy it was also ugly. Even asleep it was menacing, looking like a horrible hybrid of bear and hyena.


    It was powerfully built, especially at the front which caused its back to slope down. A disproportionately large head, with two lower canines too big to fit in its mouth and a short snout. It had bristle brown hair except for the white underside and red snout from its last meal, not very far from where it slept.


    "Hate to say it," Dene whispered, "but the longsword would work best here. Regardless, try your best. Anything goes wrong and I''ll step in."


    John nodded. "I should be able to pierce its eyelids with my arrows."


    The Nandi bear had its head against the ground but sideways to John. He looked for a good spot to attack facing it and found a mound rising behind two trees at the edge of the clearing. After slowly making his way there, placed his quiver on the ground.


    Hit or miss, he would be against a strong and angry beast. He nocked an arrow but didn''t draw the bow, instead watching the beast breathing. Every time it did, its head would move a little. Rhythmically it would exhale, inhale and pause for a few seconds before repeating the cycle. John had to hit it during that pause.


    Before drawing his bow, John took a last look at his mother. She had managed to climb up the large oak tree and was standing on a branch directly on top of the beast. Anything went wrong she would save him.


    With that, he drew the bow, waited for the pause and let it fly. The next second there was an angry roar from the beast who now had an arrow sticking out of its left eye. The second arrow landed on the ground between its stocky legs as it stood up, serving only to show where John was shooting from.


    It looked even more threatening now, standing almost as tall as John at around one and a half meters.


    The third arrow bounced against its skull, the fourth one flew wide and the fifth one pierced the nose. That was the last arrow as it was now running up the mound.


    John threw the bow to the side and ran towards a tree behind him. He jumped and ran three steps up the tree before somersaulting over the Nandi bear, just as it slammed its head against the trunk.


    He landed with a back roll and was soon on his feet again, this time running down the mound towards the clearing. He didn''t want to trip on the undergrowth during the fight.


    As he reached the center of the clearing, John finally unsheathed his swords. The beast rushed after him and slammed at John who rolled to its left side.


    The Nandi bear stood on its hind legs to swipe a paw bigger than John''s head at him. He barely managed to duck under it and immediately moved to avoid its descending paw.


    He ran circles around the enraged beast, always to its left where it couldn''t see him. When it finally tried to stand on two legs again, John rushed and slashed it right above the left hind paw, spraying blood on the grass. He didn''t wait to see if it worked and jumped back, avoiding the beast''s falling body.


    When it stood up again, the Nandi bear was slumping heavily to one side. But either not caring or not understanding its injury, it jumped again at John.


    For the first time, he dodged to its right. By instinct it tried to swipe at him with his left paw, forgetting about its now useless hind leg and tumbling to the side. It was almost funny.


    He took the chance to slash at the other hind leg, and now all it could do was drag its lower body.


    Just for safety, he waited for a chance to also cut the tendons on its forelegs before jumping on its back. It reminded him of his fight against the great boar years ago.


    Just like back then, John sunk his word on the beast''s neck, and just like back then it got wedged. But this time there wouldn''t be an asshole trying to kill him. Hopefully.


    John looked up to the branch where his mother had been and found nothing. His heart skipped a beat before feeling a tap on his shoulder.


    "Good job," Dene spoke with a smile.


    John breathed a sigh of relief.


    She pulled the sword free, wiped it mostly clean with the burlap sack and handed it back to John. "Now go get your bow and arrows, I''ll take care of the skinning."


    "I know how to do it," he protested.


    "I know you do, I thought you myself. But as you''ve already seemed to have forgotten, its skin is too thick. If I leave it to you there''ll be nothing but scraps."


    Head hanging low, John did as he was told. More than anything he was ashamed of having forgotten something so basic.


    When he came back his mother was halfway done with the beast''s side. "Rather than standing there watching, how about a little test?" She pointed a bloodied hand at the carcass of the Nandi bear''s last meal. "What can you tell me about that?"


    "It''s dead."


    "You don''t say? Anything else?"


    "Yeah, the bear ate it," John chuckled.


    "You do realize that I can hit you without needing to move from here, right? Carcass. Now."


    John gave a short laugh before turning to the animal''s body. What did she expect him to find? "I mean, the body it seems to have been a deer."


    "What else?"


    John didn''t understand what was so important about it. "From its gray fur, I would say its a wind deer..."


    "Do you see it now?" His mother was done with one side and was rolling the bear on its other side. "How did such a fast beast got killed by this bear? Maybe the bear got lucky and found an old one?"


    "No, it was still young, else it would''ve started to lose muscle." John finally got interested and took another at the carcass. Other than its entrails, the head was also missing. "Does the Nandi bear also eats the head?"


    "Sometimes it does. The only way to know for sure is to open its stomach and check. Want me to do it?"


    "No, that''s okay." His mother had seen something about this body and didn''t need to open the bear open to it. John got closer to the body, shooing the flies away. The grass around the body was painted red with the deer''s blood. "Wait..." John compared the area around the neck with the one around the open entrails. "There''s a lot more blood around the neck."


    He examined the neck more closely and found a small hole a near where it ended. With a gloved hand, John prodded a finger inside a touched something hard. He cut the hole open with a knife and grabbed what had been stuck inside; a broken-off arrowhead.


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    With that, he had a pretty good guess of what happened, but he had to be sure. He took another look at the deer''s body. It was on the smaller side, either a hind or a young stag. He pulled its hind legs open and found his answer, "it was a stag, someone killed it."


    "That''s right," his mother was done with the pelt. "And if so, they likely also took its antlers. We''ve got ourselves some poachers do deal with."

 38 Devran

    Devran rubbed his hands together, all the while chastising himself for not bringing warmer clothing. Winter was fast approaching, he should have been better prepared.


    "Here," With a large hand, Samn passed him a waterskin. His friend was a head taller than him and half larger.


    The smell of alcohol hit Devran''s nose as soon as the cork was removed. He took a mouthful and felt his insides heating up. Then it heated up some more, and more until everything was burning. He wondered if instead of liquor this wasn''t actually vitriol and returned it amid coughs. He''d rather endure the cold.


    "Luptak''s Spirits. None of that dog piss you all drink," Samn laughed.


    Devran wagered that not even piss would be as horrible as that. He and his party rode their horses east towards Greenflower. After following the black woman''s directions, they soon reached the road and were out of the forest half an hour later.


    "How do you think it''ll go?" His friend asked without the usual smile.


    "It''ll be fine. Hopefully. Let''s just hope no one dies today."


    Devran had planned to visit Garrel Selter, baron of Greenflower, to see if the man would aid his family''s interests. More specifically, there were talks of an alliance between Earl Hagen Westbrook from Rochdale and the Skanler Bastard.


    Devran hoped to convince as many of their vassals as possible to stand against such an alliance. Because there was only one reason those two would do that; to quell his parents'' growing rebellion.


    Samn just nodded and the two went the rest of the way in silence. Soon, they could see the small town, and it looked just as he expected; backward, ugly and dirty.


    There were no walls, not even a palisade. Despite its small size there was still a lack of guards. And for whatever reason, the houses were all clustered together. Wooden buildings with thatch roofs all close to one another. It was like the people wanted the town to be as unsafe and indefensible as possible.


    Better for him, he guessed, if anything went wrong and he had to escape.


    After making their way through the town''s narrow, unpaved roads, Devran and his followers arrived at the town square.


    It smelled. Even worse than the rest of town.


    At the square''s center was an improvised scaffold most likely used for executions. Usually, though, the body was removed afterward. Scattered atop the platform were the rotten pieces of what used to be a person.


    From the various whip marks across the black skin, Devran knew the man had been a slave. But even then, this punishment sounded excessive.


    "Hey," someone called from behind him.


    Devran turned to find a black-bearded man dressed in a brown tunic. "Good morning Barton."


    Like himself and Samn, Barton was also a Crusader. Devran sent him ahead of the rest to gather whatever information he could about the town.


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    "Good morning," Barton greeted back. "I don''t think it''s a good time to try talking to the baron."


    "I''m guessing it''s related to the dead man."


    "That''s right. I didn''t know his name, but he was a slave serving the baron''s family," Barton glanced at the platform, "up until recently."


    "What happened?"


    "Varn and Borin, the baron''s sons, both went out hunting yesterday. Borin got spooked by something, had a close shave with a beast I would bet. The important thing is that they returned earlier than expected. Earlier than Varn''s wife expected."


    "No," Devran lamented.


    "Yes," Samn laughed.


    "He found the two of them in bed. Even if just a distant cousin, the woman is still a Westbrook, so she couldn''t be touched. Which means the slave received the whole punishment and here''s the aftermath."


    "Var-Varn the cuckold!" Samn cracked up, attracting the attention of the passersby.


    Devran was about to tell him to shut up, but Braton beat him to the punch. With a punch to Samn''s arm.


    "What was that for?"


    "Show some respect for the dead man."


    "And why do you care about it?"


    "Care? I admire him. The man survives his tribe''s destruction, gets enslaved, is dragged for thousands of kilometers from his home under leash and whippings with barely any food or water and a scorching sun above. And he survives it all. Instead, he dies planting a pair of antlers on his owner''s head. Talk about sticking it to someone."


    "Yeah, sticking it good-" Samn received another punch before he could laugh at his own dumb joke. "But if you ask me, that''s just how they are. These black people, they live and die for sex. As for Varn, he''s not just a cuckold but also an idiot. He makes a show of killing the guy for everyone to see and know what happened. Those antlers must have grown into his brain."


    As his friends talked, Devran wondered about the situation at hand. Perhaps Barton was right and they should try it another day. The thought was squashed as soon as it entered his mind. There wouldn''t be another day, their schedule was already tight enough as it was. It was now or never.


    He opened his mouth to speak just as the town''s bell tolled and almost flinched. Did something go wrong? Was the baron aware he was coming and had set up a trap? Maybe that''s why he saw no guards around town. The bell tolled again. And again, six more times. It was eight in the morning.


    "So, are we leaving?" Samn asked.


    "No," Devran spoke, "I''m still going."


    "What? You still want us to go there?"


    "Not us. Me alone." He pulled Samn and Barton closer and whispered, "take the rest of the guys to the tavern and wait for me. If I''m not back by noon, then break into two groups and create as much chaos as possible. Samn, you kill everyone you see in your way. Barton, you loot and set the buildings on fire."


    They both nodded and Devran looked across the square. Atop a mound sat Greenflower castle, but it wasn''t really accurate to call it that. It was just a stone keep, and not particularly large at that. Still, it was the only place remotely defensible in this town.


    Devran walked up to the entrance where a pair of guards stood. One was nodding off while the other had his weapon propped against the keep''s side, too busy cleaning the grit under his fingernails. Devran was already at arm''s length from them when the second one finally noticed his presence.


    "Yes?"


    "Greetings, my name is Devran Marar, and I''d like to speak to the baron."


    The man simply glanced at his clothes and yelled to wake up his companion. "Hey! Big nose! Go with this guy, he wants to see the baron."


    The one called big nose rubbed the sand out of his eyes and asked, "Why do I have to do it?"


    "Because I''m telling you to, now go on before I hit you."


    Big nose grumbled, "fine," and spoke to Devran, "follow me."


    The two didn''t even bother to hold onto his sword. Devran had been worried if it was a good idea to try and sway the baron to their cause. Now he wondered if he should have even bothered.


    He was led to a small dining room where a frail-looking old man sat hunched over a plate.


    "M''lord," big nose spoke, "there''s a visitor."


    Garrel raised his head and squinted his eyes to look at Devran. "Oh, good morning. I''m sorry young man, but this isn''t a good time. Family problems, you see."


    "I''m aware and most sorry for the disturbance, but I have something important to talk about."


    "Is that so?" The old man munched on a piece of bread. "Well, sit down then and tell me what''s so important."


    Devran sat down across from the baron and, for what was worth, big nose finally did something right and stood behind him.


    "Would you like something to eat?" Garrel offered the plate with bread, cheese, ham, and bacon.


    Devran grabbed a bacon strip solely to not appear uncourteous.


    "So, how may I help you lad?"


    "First, I''d like to introduce myself. My name is Devran Marar."


    "That''s an unusual surname. I wonder where I heard it before," Garrel reached for a cheese cube when he seemed to realize something. He took another look at Devran, "that''s right, you''re the son of-" He held himself back from finishing his sentence.


    Devran wondered who the old man had thought about. Was it his father, Vasilis? Of course, that wasn''t how he was known these days. The man with no cock, Eunuch, Neutered, Castrated and half a dozen other names that all meant the same thing. Those were more accurate.


    Or maybe his mother, Anna, known as¡­ worse names.


    "Your parents served Earl Skanler." The baron finally said after a long pause.


    "The late Earl, yes. Things are quite different regarding his son, as I''m sure you''re aware."


    "Yes, yes. Regardless, he''s still an Earl, and he set quite a generous bounty on you and your parents. How do you know I won''t turn you over to him?"


    There was a slight clink of metal behind Devran, the type of which when you grip the sword hilt and it presses against the scabbard. So at least he was sure that big nose hadn''t fallen asleep.


    Acting as if he didn''t hear it, Devran answered, "because I know you''re not a fool, my lord, and only a fool would trust that snake''s generosity. For six decades my parents served under his father, and as soon as he inherited the coronet he¡­ did what he did. All because of a perceived slight, years prior." Devran took a deep breath. "Maybe he would reward you, but he''s just as likely to accuse you of treason, massacre your House and sack the town for good measure."


    Garrel stared him dead in the eye and Devran stared back. The seconds seemed to drag out forever before the baron finally slumped back in his chair. He glanced behind Devran and there was another clink of metal.


    The baron took a bite of a piece of bread. "So, now that that is out of the way I ask again, how may I help you?"


    "I would like your help..."


    More than three hours had passed when he finally came out of the keep. The old baron agreed to stand against the alliance, but just as long others did it first. Didn''t want to be the first to stick out his neck. That was still better than nothing for Devran. Now he had to hurry and stop his men from wreaking havoc in the town.


    He ran down to the square and the tavern where his men were.


    Outside of the building, Samn stood alone watching over their horses. "Took you long enough. Was starting to think I would need to bring you out of there." He patted Devran on the shoulder.


    "He was reluctant at first, but the Skanler''s growing reputation worked in our favor. And why are you here instead of drinking inside?"


    "I told you, I don''t like that piss you all drink," he took a swig from his waterskin. "Besides, I was worried about you."


    Devran smiled, "thanks."


    "You''re welcome. So, are we leaving?"


    "Yeah."


    They still had to visit another town, and then head to their outpost.

 39 Power

    The forest was painted in shades of gray. Black earth, gray trees, white leaves and undergrowth. The night vision spell would last for a quarter of an hour.


    When done skinning the Nandi Bear, John and his mother began searching for tracks of the poachers. It didn''t take long. The poachers either didn''t know how or didn''t bother to hide it. After half a day walking they found their camp.


    Two tents were pitched in front of one another with an unlit fireplace in between. In total there were five Fighters and two Crusaders in the area.


    Some were having a late lunch while some were napping under a tree''s shade.


    A surprise attack with the sun burning overhead wasn''t the best idea. Plus, they didn''t know how many more of them there were. Therefore they waited and observed.


    It proved to be the right choice. Throughout the day, five more Fighters and three Crusaders showed up, doubling the poachers'' fighting power.


    "Remember," Dene spoke from the side, "don''t look straight into the fire, even from this far away." The advice wasn''t for nothing. With the spell active, the fireplace shone like a midday sun. If he stared from closer it could blind him.


    His mother didn''t have the same problem. Not only she cast a higher version of the spell, but a Crusader''s eyes were also much stronger, as explained by her.


    But being blinded or not wasn''t what John worried about. Rather it was the people in the camp. Fifteen people, fifteen lives. At the crack of dawn, they would be dead and buried.


    Be it in this world or the other, John wasn''t strange to taking lives. Both as a soldier and a spy, John killed for his country. In his last moments on Earth, he killed Verich and his two bodyguards for revenge. And in his first moments after awakening, he killed the two brothers who attacked him; after they had already surrendered.


    His justifications for taking lives became flimsier the more time passed, but this would be a new level.


    Poaching. Illegal hunting. As far as he knew that was their only crime, and for that they would receive the death penalty.


    He worried about how lightly he was taking human lives. And the fact that he was still going to do it worried him even more.


    "Are you ready?" Dene asked and he just nodded. "Good, watch over me then."


    With that, she sat down on the ground to chant her spell. Meanwhile, John observed the poachers'' movement or lack thereof. For the past hour, three pairs of Fighters were positioned southwest, southeast, and north of the camp. Sitting by the sun of a fireplace were two Crusaders drinking and laughing. The rest were inside the tents, likely sleeping.


    His mother stirred and John knew she was finished casting, and then¡­ nothing. She stood up with no sign of the spell. While Mages cast their spell as soon as their chanting was done, Archmages were able to hold it in for a few moments depending on the element and difficulty of the spell. The spell would still be activated, even if it had to be inside the caster. Thus, there was no time to lose.


    As planned, John nocked an arrow while his mother rushed the southeastern Fighters. The man was on his feet, drinking from a waterskin while the woman sat against a tree, trying not to doze off. He aimed at her, who wasn''t moving as much.


    John drew the bow, took aim and released it with a twang. The arrow flew true and sank halfway into her forehead, the noise startling the one by her side. He choked on whatever he was drinking and was about to shout out when Dene fell upon him.


    With a flash, her sword slashed through his throat while her free arm held the man up, preventing his body from hitting the ground and causing too much noise.


    John peeked at the two by the fireplace and they seemingly heard nothing, too focused they were in laughing at whatever joke was told.


    Dene laid the man gently enough, drew her other sword and ran towards the center of the camp.


    The two Crusaders cast two large shadows. Unbeknownst to them, a small, child-sized head emerged from one of these shadows. It was the stuff of nightmares, with rows of exposed jagged teeth forming a disturbing smile, pitch-black skin, and no eyes, ears or nose.


    A second head popped up from the other shadow, accompanied by a pair of stick-thin arms that the creature used to pull itself up. It stood less than half a meter tall, with short, stocky legs and claw-like hands that almost brushed against the ground.


    As soon as it was completely out of the ground the creature released an ear-piercing shriek and jumped on a Crusader''s back. The second one followed suit and leaped at the other Crusader just as he turned around startled.


    The shadow creatures proceeded to claw and bite at the panicking men who desperately tried to get them off. Dene could''ve used this chance to finish the two Crusaders. Instead, she chose to kick and stomp at the fireplace, spraying embers around and leaving the camp in almost complete darkness.


    John was all too glad for that. All the action had been occurring near the fireplace and he didn''t take his eyes out of it. Now there were dark blotches in his visions as so happens when one stares at the actual sun.


    The commotion didn''t go unnoticed. Men and women still in sleeping clothes rushed out of the tents with weapons in hand. The two other pairs of Fighters on watch duty also ran back to the camp.


    John picked one of the Fighters off with an arrow and this was his entire contribution.


    The difference in numbers didn''t seem to make a difference to his mother. He watched in amazement as she danced amid the chaos, slashing left and right through the blind defenders.


    He couldn''t take his eyes off of her. She was untouchable, while everyone else was defenseless to her. At that moment, he knew there was nothing for her to fear because none of them could do anything to her.


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    The Fighters all went down in one hit. Some of the Crusaders were able to put a shield or weapon where they guessed the attack would come from, but it wasn''t long until their luck ran out.


    John could be unsure of how he felt about killing for such a small reason, but he had no doubt about her display. He wanted that. He wanted that power.


    In the end, Dene stood alone in the center of the camp. That is if one forgets about the shadow creatures, and she certainly didn''t.


    In unison, they both jumped high towards her. She stepped back and did a single slash through both, cutting them in half. The four halves hit the ground and dissolved into it, disappearing as they had never been there.


    The little Imps, as they were called, were created with dark element magic, but couldn''t be controlled. They would attack anyone nearby until destroyed or the spell ran out. Eyeless, they could see in the dark the same way a person could see in the light, and vice-versa.


    Still rubbing his eyes, John looped the bow over his shoulder and walked towards his mother. She remained in the same spot, hands trembling and breathing hard.


    According to herself, she once killed five Crusaders without barely breaking a sweat and still managed to survive against a Paladin. But that was back then, before she burned half of her vitality through blood magic, before she let go of a few more decades so he could be born.


    "I''m fine," she answered his question before he could ask it, "just need to catch my breath."


    John just nodded. There was nothing he could do about that. Instead, he searched for a shovel he could use to dig a grave large enough for fifteen people.


    His mother first looted the camp, along with the corpses, for anything of value and threw it all in a single large sack. In the end, it was half as big as her. When done she grabbed a shovel herself and helped him dig the hole.


    Despite starting later she still dug more than him. Even nearing the end of her vitality she was still a Crusader and he was just a Fighter. In the end, the hole was as deep as John was tall. It had to be deep enough so it wouldn''t attract necrophages.


    Thanaflos were common and harmless while Rotmus would never appear this close to winter. Ghouls were the real problem. They would feast on the bodies and when there was nothing left, search for more food nearby, living or dead.


    John wasn''t sure how long exactly it took to bury all of the bodies, but it should''ve been a few hours at least.


    "That''s it for today," Dene declared and lugged the loot sack over her shoulder. "Let''s go home."

 40 Rippled steel

    John kept his head down to avoid the rising sun shining on his face.


    "You know those stories where the main character walks towards the sunset in the end? And that would be the happy end? Right now I just feel annoyed."


    "Uh-huh," Dene agreed absently. Again.


    She had been paying attention to nothing ever since the fight against the poachers.


    "Maybe we should try again in the evening towards the actual sunset."


    "Uh-huh."


    "Or rather, why wait? Let''s set our house on fire and call it the sun. We can even take the chance to cook on it."


    "Uh-huh."


    Unable to take it anymore, John pulled ahead and stopped in front of his mother. Even then she almost bumped into him.


    "What is it?"


    "I should be the one asking that. You''ve been distracted ever since the fight with the poachers. What''s going on?"


    Dene looked at him for a moment, thinking about something, before speaking, "They weren''t poachers." She then dropped the burlap sack and began rummaging inside.


    That startled him. "What do you mean? I saw the animal parts in their camp."


    "Yes, but a camp of that size should''ve had much more than that, too much to fit in a single sack. That deer we saw, it only had its antlers taken, the most valuable part. Most poachers are poor peasants trying to add to their livelihoods, so ignoring the fur and meat isn''t very likely. I had this doubt when I first saw the deer''s carcass but guessed that they had been scared off by the Nandi Bear. Seeing their camp confirmed my suspicions."


    Finally, she seemed to find what she was looking for as she removed a bluish-white knife from inside the sack. The handle was half as long as the blade and wrapped in a single strip of white leather that spiraled down its length towards a sapphire pommel. The blade''s distinct color wasn''t unfamiliar to John, even more so after he looked closer and noticed the endless little ripples that permeated the metal, reminiscent of flowing water.


    "Rippled steel," John spoke and Dene nodded. He knew about the metal because it was the same as his mother''s twin swords, gifted to her by the baron after saving his life during a hunt. Lighter, more durable and able to keep its edge for longer when compared to regular steel. It was also prohibitively expensive to most commoners.


    "And there were also maps," she handed him a folded parchment with a drawing of the town and its surroundings. John also had maps of the region, but none like this one. It was too detailed.


    While his'' displayed Greenflower as a black circle with three roads leading towards it, this one depicted every single building and alley, as well as highlighting places such as where the guards lived. On the other side were various timestamps, some being months apart while others were only a couple of days, but there was no explanation for what they represented.


    Regardless, he knew that no one would go through all this trouble for nothing.


    "You think they were planning to raid the town?"


    "If they were, then they wouldn''t do it alone. The town guards may be incompetent, but not that much."


    John agreed. The town had somewhere between twenty and thirty Crusaders, more than enough to deal with the single camp they killed, so they were likely only scouting the place for a bigger force.


    And so he could understand her worry. Whoever those people were, killing them put John and Dene in danger, so hiding their involvement would be best. On the other hand, she was obligated to report it to the baron, and if he didn''t find it out from her, it could bring another sort of trouble.


    "So what will you do?" John asked after handing back the knife and map.


    "I''ll inform the baron about this, then we''ll lay low to see what happens."


    Greenflower''s outskirts came into view soon after. Walking through the dirt roads, they soon arrived at the town square. It was the same as always. One or another commoner looked through the shops. Edmund''s store was open, and the man was busy haggling with a client. And the healer''s door was closed as usual.


    It was the same as always. Except for a bloody scaffold at the square''s center. Made of a few logs and planks cobbled together, it had clearly been improvised in a rush. The body had been removed, but the flies remained, and whoever they were, they didn''t die quickly. Most of the wooden surface was painted red, the same for the ground below as the blood seeped in between the planks and dripped down.


    "What do you think happened here?"


    "We''ll ask Edmund later, first I have to inform the baron."


    Following what was maybe the only paved road in town, the two walked up the small hill towards the stone keep. As usual, Grouch and Big Nose stood guard at the entrance. Well, they were standing at the entrance and were technically guards, but that was it. A blind dog could offer better protection than those two.


    Not paying attention to their actual jobs, both argued over something.


    "The smart thing to do is tell it to Skanler," Big Nose argued. "Why should we get involved in this mess? Plus, this way we can gain the Earl''s favor."


    "Bah, anyone with half a brain spits on his favor. Just look at what he did with those foreigners who worked for him. I don''t wish Skanler''s generosity on my worst enemy."


    The name wasn''t entirely unfamiliar to John. Hagen Westbrook, Jonathan''s friend, was the Earl of Rochdale. To the southwest of his territory was Knight''s Crossing, ruled by Earl Skanler. Greenflower was located in between the two, so unless they declared war on one another, it had nothing to do with John.


    Ignoring their discussion, Dene passed in between the two guards and entered the keep, John following closely behind. Neither one attempted to stop her, already used to her coming in and out when she wanted.


    At the dining room is where they found baron Garrel Selter, chewing on a piece of black bread. Surprised for an instant, the old man took the time to eat the bread before greeting the two.


    "Good morning, Miss Ellie, to what do I owe the pleasure?" The baron addressed Dene by the fake name she provided. Or almost. She had told her name was Eliliba, which got shortened to Ellie.


    "Good morning, my lord. I''m sorry to bother, but this couldn''t wait," Dene grabbed the town''s map from inside the sack and handed it to the baron. "I believe someone is planning to attack the town."


    Garrel''s usual mild smile was replaced by a frown, which only deepened after looking through the map. "I think you should go from the beginning."


    "Certainly, my lord. Yesterday, me and my son were walking through the forest when we found evidence of poachers. We tracked it to a camp where there was more evidence of poaching and so I made short work of them. While I went through their possessions, I was startled to find this and other maps of the surrounding areas, and knew I had to bring it to your attention."


    The baron nodded along with her story while studying the map and the timestamps behind it.


    "Unfortunately I haven''t been able to figure out what these dates and hours mean."


    "I think... I know what they are," he pointed to a date almost half a year prior. "Quintilis, 17th, 7,870 AU. I remember this day, a delegation from Knight''s Crossing passed through the town towards Rochdale. And this one," he pointed to an earlier date, a fortnight prior, "Carius, 21st, 7,870 AU. A merchant caravan arrived here that day. I''m not sure about the other dates, but I believe they also mark large amounts of people passing through town. Did they carry anything else of note?"


    "Apart from other maps, there was also a rippled steel knife and some letters, but I don''t recognize the language," Dene put every item on the table.


    John was slightly surprised by the last part. She didn''t mention any letters to him.


    The baron only glanced at the knife and through the maps before unfolding the letters and doing the same thing with them. The old man raised each letter to his face and glimpsed front and back through its contents, confirming that indeed he was unable to read it. But that was different for John.


    Leaning closer, he could make out some words here and there. "Hide", "safeguard", "Seimon", "attention". All in English. So he wasn''t wrong in believing that languages from Earth were somehow also present in this world.


    "I think," the baron spoke after putting down the last letter, "that this is Gwynland''s old tongue, but I can''t know for sure without someone who''s able to speak it. And there''s little chance of finding someone like that."


    "You''re wrong, I can read it," John wanted to say, but held himself back. How would he explain being able to read some dead language from who knows how long ago?


    "Regardless," Garrel continued, "you''ve done a great thing for this town, miss Ellie. I''ll have to think of a way to properly reward you, but for now you can keep the knife," he handed it to Dene who promptly accepted it, "along with whatever valuables they had. And John isn''t it? I''m awarding you with the title of Greenflower''s huntsman so that you may officially work alongside your mother."


    That came as a surprise to John, and also Dene, as he noticed from her expression.


    "Don''t be so shocked, I''m not nearly as senile as some make me out to be. You''ve already been training the boy, and I have no doubts that you''ve taken him hunting once or twice. At least now it will be done according to the law."


    "Thank you, my lord," Dene said with a slight bow.


    John received a discreet nudge, prompting him to also thank the baron.


    "That will be all then, you''re dismissed."


    They both turned to leave...


    "Oh, just one more thing."


    ¡­ but were soon called back.


    "Both of you, if possible, try to avoid my son Varn. He''s been upset over¡­ well, I''m sure you''re both aware of it by now."


    "Do you think his warning has something to do with the scaffold from earlier?" John asked after they left the stone keep.


    "Maybe. We''ll go to Edmund''s store and ask him about it. Also, here," Dene handed him the rippled steel knife, "you can keep it. My swords are enough for me, and you seem adamant on using every single weapon you find."


    John ignored that last remark. Every once in a while she would send him a jab because, as she saw it, he was spreading his attention too thin instead of focusing on the twin swords. She feared him becoming a jack of all trades and master of none when it came to combat.


    It only took a couple of minutes to reach the store. Edmund''s cheerful voice reached them just as they got inside.


    "Good morning, Miss Ellie, and you too little John, how may I help you?" The store owner insisted on calling him, ''little John,'' even though they were the same height.


    Dene dropped the burlap sack on the counter. "First I want to sell these. After that, I want some whetstones for my swords."


    "Sure, but it''ll take some time to go over all of this."


    "That''s okay, we''ll browse the other stores and come back later."


    They didn''t take too long to come back, Dene just wanted to buy some food. She returned with a roast chicken and two loaves of bread inside a straw basket. Usually, she would cook their food herself, but the last hours had been too draining on her.


    That, coupled with his recent title of huntsman, made John aware that it was time for him to start pulling his weight at home. He was already thirteen years old, and even older on the inside.


    "Welcome back," Edmund greeted. The burlap sack was empty and neatly folded over the counter with a heavy pouch on top of it. "I''ll buy everything you bought, and here''s the first part," he pushed the pouch towards Dene. "Come back next week and I''ll have the rest of the coins as well as the whetstone for your swords. And here''s a gift for you little John," he produced a head of garlic from behind the counter and handed it to John.


    "Shove it up your ass," he wanted to say. Instead, John forced a smile and thanked the man.


    Ever since finding out about John''s utter distaste for the vegetable, Edmund has been teasing him about it. John simply hated the death-flavored vegetable ever since¡­ ever since his time in the army.


    "By the way, Edmund," Dene spoke, "what can you tell me about that scaffold?"


    "You don''t know? Apparently, lord Varn gained a brand new pair of antlers," Edmund laughed. "When you took him hunting, his wife probably didn''t expect him to return so early, and so she was caught in bed with the slave. What you see there is the aftermath of that."


    John was surprised by that but waited until they were out of the store and back at home to speak about it. "What he said about Varn returning early..."


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    "I know, it''s partly my fault." Dene placed the basket over the table with a sigh. "He wasn''t from our tribe, but Kwanzaa was a good man regardless. It''s unfortunate what happened to him. If I had known I wouldn''t have let the hunt end so early. As for the baron''s daughter-in-law, I couldn''t care less whatever happened to her."

 41 Investigation

    Devran''s heart was stuck on his throat as he observed the surroundings. Not the camp devoid of life, but the woods further back. Had they been discovered by Skanler and this was a trap? No. The former could be true, but the latter definitely wasn''t, else the trap would be sprung before they arrived, while they were too engrossed by Samn''s inane jokes.


    He took a deep breath, followed by another. If they hadn''t been discovered, and this wasn''t a trap, then where were his scouts?


    Looking past the trampled campfire and slashed tents, was his answer. Braton, Samn and two other men worked on digging up the recently disturbed earth. He had every suspicion that that was his men''s resting place.


    But how did it happen? Seimon was in charge of this camp, and he wouldn''t let himself get surprised by a squad of Crusaders. The surroundings also showed no signs of a large group passing through.


    If not a large group, then a single individual. Either a Paladin or a Warlock could''ve made short work of this outpost. But finding someone like that around these parts was unlikely at best, which was why his parents didn''t worry when setting up the outpost.


    "Devran!" Samn called out after he was done digging up the hole. Hopefully, the answers he sought would be there.


    Sadly, but unsurprisingly, the hole was a mass grave. The bodies had started to decompose, particularly the Fighters. Their skin had started to loosen and the muscles stiffen. In a couple more days, the bloating and putrefaction would begin.


    Although dead, the Crusaders could be identified by how much slower the decay progressed. Ignoring the wounds, most looked as if they were simply sleeping.


    Speaking of wounds¡­


    Devran knelt down to better examine the bodies. Most of them had been killed by a single slash to the neck, except for two Fighters. One took an arrow to his chest, while the other had an arrow shaft sticking out of her forehead.


    So it definitely wasn''t a Warlock, but something was odd. Why did the killer use a bow and arrow alongside a blade? Furthermore, the arrows stopped at the Fighter''s bodies instead of piercing through.


    "A Fighter shot these arrows," Devran spoke out, "but the rest were killed by either a Paladin or Crusaders. Given how similar the fatal wounds are, I''m betting on the former."


    "So, we''re looking for a Fighter, a Paladin and some wild beast," Samn spoke besides a Crusader''s body. From the full salt and pepper beard, Devran knew it to be Seimon.


    This pained Devran more than any of the other dead ones. Seimon was the one who came up with the plan to rescue his parents. If not for him, they would both be dead, or worse, still imprisoned by Skanler.


    Similar to the others, he also died from a slash to the neck. But unlike them, he also had two large gashes that ran in parallel from the back of the head, through the left ear and all the way to the cheek. Unlike the clean slash through the neck, these were more irregular, as if they tore through the skin instead of slicing. Claw marks, but what sort of beast only has two claws in their paws?


    Besides a few more claw marks, Seimon''s yellowed shirt was also soaked red from a large bite on his shoulder.


    "Any idea of what beast it is?" Devran turned to Braton who was inspecting the only other Crusader with such marks.


    "It wasn''t a beast. I''m sure you''ve noticed the two claws, but look at this bite mark," Braton lifted the dead man''s arm to display the wound.


    Devran didn''t want to imagine what could have such a bite. The teeth were completely irregular, with no trace of symmetry. It had more than one row of teeth in some spots, while in others it had none whatsoever. Furthermore, flat and pointed ones were mixed seemingly at random.


    "I''ve seen this before, it''s the work of a Little Imp. A fiendish¡­ thing, created with dark element magic. We''re talking of either an Archmage or a Warlock."


    "Fucking hell," Devran cursed. The more he investigated, the less he understood what happened here.


    "And it gets worse," Samn declared. "Whoever they were, they looted the place. Everything is gone. Letters, maps, weapons, coins. Even Seimon''s Honour Dagger is missing."


    That was a problem. Those letters were encoded, written in the old tongue, but they still contained critical information about his parents'' activities. As for Seimon''s Dagger, it had a symbolic and emotional value attached to it. Devran had to get them back fast.


    "Alright, we can assume there were no Warlocks or they could have done it by themselves. And we can also discard the Paladins; they wouldn''t need the spellcasters. So, we''re talking of at least one Fighter, one Crusader and one Archmage. What else do we know?"


    Braton was the one to break the silence. "They took everything. I mean, letters and maps were to be expected, and any coin is worth taking, but the weapons? They are too cumbersome for what they are worth."


    "That''s right. Doing that means they must be starved for coins, or at least that they can''t afford to ignore something of value. Furthermore, Seimon told me he and his men had been hunting around here and collecting some trophies. Did anyone find those?" There was a general shaking of heads around Devran. "Then we can assume they also took it, likely for coin too. That''s good, so we can assume this wasn''t Skanler''s doing. If there''s one thing the bastard does right is making sure his men are well paid."


    It was the lesser of two evils. If this was done by the Earl''s men, it could mean that he had access to the ins and outs of his parents'' operations.


    "There''s also the mass grave. The only reason to bury the bodies is to prevent ghouls from appearing, so we can assume they care about what happens here in the forest."


    "Someone hiding around here, perhaps?"


    "Maybe, but it could also be some local nobles protecting their property, or even some overzealous huntsman hiring help. Greenflower is the closest town to here, but I doubt that old man Selter would be able to plan this. But for the sake of turning every stone," Devran turned to Braton, "does Greenflower even have a huntsman?"


    "Huntswoman, actually. Never met her, but she seems to be one scary looking desert woman from what I gathered."


    "Desert woman?" Devran recalled the one who gave him directions to Greenflower. She did happen to be carrying a bow and arrow. "Woman of few words, carries two swords, and is accompanied by a half-bred boy?"


    "Actually, yeah. Have you met her?"


    "That I did. Samn, before reaching Greenflower, remember that woman who pointed us to town? The child must have shot the arrows, while she took care of the rest."


    Samn scratched the back of his bald head. "I mean, not that I doubt you, but how could a single Crusader do this all by herself?"


    "By not being just a Crusader, that''s how. What if she was also an Archmage? Think about it; the boy stands guard while she chants her spell. When it''s done, she rushes into the camp and summons those Little Imps."


    "Sure, but even catching them by surprise, I can''t imagine how she could beat five Crusaders and double that in Fighters by herself."


    "That, my dear friend, is because the only strategy you understand is to keep attacking until the other side dies. No, we''re dealing with someone smarter." Devran pointed to the center of the camp, "Instead of immediately attacking, she took advantage of the initial confusion to kick and stomp the campfire. If she''s an umbramancer, then she must know a spell to see in the dark, while Seimon and his men could do absolutely nothing."


    "That''s a bit of a stretch."


    "Yes, it is," Braton added, "but it may also be our only lead to avenging Seimon and his men as well as recovering what they gathered. Unfortunately, she might have handed everything to the baron."


    "Maybe not, she might as well have kept it all to herself, and if so, what are we waiting here for? Let''s go find that woman."


    "Have you learned nothing from this conversation? If the huntswoman is truly responsible for this, then she will also be able to deal with us."


    "She had the element of surprise here; next time will be different. Plus, we will bring some triotium in case she''s really a spellcaster."


    "That''s an excellent idea. If you know where we can find some, then by all means."


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    Sensing another pointless argument sprouting, Devran stepped in. "We''re not going after her."


    "But-"


    "We''re NOT going after her, at least not by ourselves. I''m not taking any chances, we''ve already lost too many people as it is. We need a Paladin. My father is a couple of days away. I''ll go to him and ask him to come. Meanwhile," he turned to Braton, "I want you to take some men and return to Greenflower. Gather whatever you can find about this woman, but be discreet. If she is the culprit, the last thing we wjavascript:;ant is her running away."

 42 Advancemen

    "Dammit," John cursed as he knelt down, flaring up the pain in his back and leg. As he continuously improved his fighting power, Dene hit ever more viciously during their spars. "Too often you will get injured during combat, and so you must be able to power through it," was her reasoning.


    Down in the dimly lit cellar turned pantry, he struggled to find more cinnamon to season their lunch. He should''ve brought a candle. And casting a night-vision spell wasn''t an option unless he wanted to be stuck down there waiting for it to run out while the food burned.


    John''s only option was to feel around the various shelves, searching for the pot where he believed the seasoning was stored. Both, his aching body, and the smell of cooking meat wafting from above urged him to hurry.


    He grabbed one pot, removed the lid and sniffed. It had a mildly sweet smell that was also a bit peppery. Probably ginger. The next pot''s contents had a pungent smell that assaulted his nose and left him nauseous. Garlic. On an impulse, he almost hurled it at the opposite wall, but breaking the pot would only serve to spread the horrible smell.


    Only on the fifth try did John find what he looked for. With the pot under one arm, he stood up and climbed the ladder. This proved to be slightly troublesome with only one arm, and he almost slipped once. The sudden shift flared his pain once again, causing him to curse once again. "Fuck!"


    "Are you sure you don''t want me to help?" Dene asked as soon as he was back in the kitchen. She sat behind the table, legs crossed and a half-smirk on her face.


    "I''m fine, just some difficulties."


    John tried not to limp while rushing to the stove. Sizzling on a cast iron pan over the blackened stove were the pork chops he decided to cook.


    He grabbed some of the cinnamon, sprinkled it over the chops along with some pepper and finally flipped them over. Not a moment too soon, as it was already turning from brown to black.


    A couple more minutes stirring and they were done. John grabbed the pan''s handle, burned his hand because it was all made from cast iron, and finally remembered to wear the gloves.


    On the wooden plate, he set them up in one single neat row, one over the next one with caramelized apple slices on the sides.


    Beautiful.


    "See? I told you I could do it." John sat down, finally allowing his muscles to rest.


    "I would like to say that I never doubted you, but that would be a lie." She laughed before grabbing one of the pork chops.


    "Wow, thanks."


    "That was a compliment son," she spoke in between bites. "It means that you''ve exceeded my expectations."


    John was too tired to argue how it meant that she expected him to fail. He took a bite and savored his work. The juicy pork almost melted in his mouth, while the way that spiciness and sweetness mixed was simply divine.


    He had forgotten how much he enjoyed cooking. Last time he did it was back on Earth; a passion fruit pie for Lucas'' anniversary. It was his brother''s favorite.


    To complement his meal, he also had a salad along with a simple cup of water. His mother had the same, with one exception; her water had a bluish tone to it. She had diluted a few drops of a mana potion in it.


    Body cultivation worked by accumulating mana inside the body, especially the muscles. As one accumulates mana, it is possible to advance through the levels to become stronger.


    And just like the body needs nutrients to sustain itself, cultivators needed mana to retain their advancements. Unfortunately, it was impossible to draw mana from the environment for anything other than casting spells. Food and drinks were the only source of it for body cultivation.


    John was just a Fighter, so this food was enough for him, but being a Crusader, his mother required food either in much greater quantities or of better quality. The former was unpractical, while the latter wasn''t affordable, so mana potions were a less effective alternative.


    When finally done, he started gathering the dishes, but she stopped him. "I''ll take care of it. You go rest for later."


    John didn''t try to argue and simply nodded as he was also excited about what would happen later. He would try to advance to a fourth level mage.


    This one advancement, by itself, wouldn''t be all that helpful. Sure, it would decrease the time to cast spells, make him capable of casting more times in quick succession and even make him react faster. But the reactions'' improvement would be far too little, while it didn''t matter how much faster he was able to cast his spells in combat; unless it was immediate, doing so would leave him completely vulnerable.


    No, what was truly exciting was that first: these little improvements to his reactions would accumulate until they finally started to make a difference; and second: this would bring him one step closer to becoming an Archmage, and that''s when his spells would truly start to make a difference.


    As his mother told him, she once defeated five Crusaders by herself, all by clever use of her spells. Sure, the spells didn''t cause much damage, but her swords did, and all they needed was an opening on their enemies'' guard.


    Even more recently, a week ago, when they attacked the scouts'' camp. Her swords did most of the work, while the defenders were in too much disarray because of her spells.


    That was the power awaiting him when he finally could use his spells in combat.


    ******


    The sun was halfway down the sky when Dene woke him from his nap. He sat up and stretched to get a sense of his injuries. The sharp pain when he moved had transitioned to a dull and constant ache, the same for the burn on his palm.


    Dene handed him a cup of water. "Drink." It was the same as the previous two times he had advanced as a Mage. A cup of water mixed with one drop from a mana potion. It was even more diluted than the one she drank at lunch, looking no different from ordinary water.


    It wouldn''t help his advancing, but it should make him recover faster afterward. He drank it in one go and started drawing mana from the environment. It was similar to casting a spell, without the release afterward.


    Instead of drawing mana from inside, spellcasting worked by channelizing the mana from around oneself. So, while body cultivation worked by accumulating mana inside the body, mind cultivation required one to draw it from the environment and hold it in for as long as they could.


    John slowly drew the mana around himself. It was too easy to lose control of it by going too fast, so he had to be patient.


    The beginning was relatively easy. The mana pooled inside him like air filling his lungs, becoming harder and harder the more there was until it reached a limit. From there, John had to force himself to pull even more.


    As he did so, his body began to fight in protest. His limbs twitched at random while the ache in his muscles spiked in intensity, died out, only to explode again. One moment he could hear his mother''s breathing while the next one he was deaf.


    The seconds seemed to drag out forever while John tried to keep his focus on the arduous task. "Keep going," he ordered himself. "Don''t you dare to surrender now."


    Finally, John felt¡­ something¡­ inside of him quickly expanding, alleviating the pressure he felt and returning his body to his control. Holding the mana became easier, and John persevered just long enough for the expanding to stop. Once done, he let go.


    As soon as he did, the mana dissipated, leaving behind a splitting headache. Just like when a spell wasn''t properly cast, trying to hold in mana from the environment was a great way to get injured.


    Body cultivation was much easier and straightforward. No wonder Spellcasters were so rarer in comparison.


    But John could hardly care for that at the moment because he did it. He advanced.


    John let himself fall back on his bed. After such an exhausting task, the rough mattress felt as soft as clouds. Cultivating was certainly draining, but these little moments when he finally advanced made it all so much worth it.


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    "Here," Dene spoke after he had recovered enough. John sat up to find her holding another cup of water. "Drink."


    There was also another incentive for John to not slack off in his cultivation. His mother blood magic had worked by drawing from her own life essence.


    But what if that wasn''t it?


    She said it herself that it was a form of magic unique to her, so the details of its workings were barely known. What if, in reality, it drew from the mana inside her body.


    Sure, this was supposed to be impossible, but so it was using life essence to cast spells.


    Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to reverse what happened to her.


    But for that, he would need to better understand how it worked. And the first course of action was to go to where she learned blood magic in the first place: the Secret Realm.


    And not just the outer and inner areas, as Dene called them, but also the core area to which only his mother had the key. And to do that, he had to be both a Paladin and a Warlock before reaching thirty years old.


    It was a race against the time, and every second he wasn''t training, or recovering from it, was a second gone to waste.


    John handed back the cup and was ready to start resting when suddenly came a loud knock on the door.

 43 Fight to survive Part 1

    Dene paused. No one ever came this far out of town, which is why she chose to live here. She moved the window curtain, just enough for her to take a peek, and saw a group of four men and one woman, all headed by a lanky man. But his cultivation left no room to argue about his strength. A Paladin.


    "Grab your weapons," she told John and quickly tiptoed to her room to grab her sword harness. With the weapons strapped to her back, she returned to the kitchen where John already waited for her. She caught a glimpse of the rippled steel dagger as he hid it under his gray tunic. Both the handle and sheath were wrapped in black cloth.


    She positioned herself in front of the door and John stood behind her. Finally, she opened the door.


    The Paladin stood four paces from the door, while the other five were further back. There was only one Crusader among them, with all the others being Fighters.


    Dene only gave a cursory glance to those behind him before directing all of her attention to the Paladin. The dark blue tunic seemed too large, given how thin he was. His black hair signaled that he wasn''t that old, but his appearance ¡ªjust skin and bones¡ª was ancient. His slight smile didn''t make him any less intimidating.


    "Are you Ellie?" he asked with a raspy voice. "Huntswoman for Greenflower town?"


    "That''s right," Dene answered, her hand still on the door handle. "And you are?"


    "My name is Vasilis, and I''d like to ask you a couple of questions."


    "You''ve brought a lot of armed people just to ask a couple of questions."


    He ignored her remark. "Have you encountered anything out of the usual in the forest these past few days?"


    "I did, actually. Last week I stumbled upon a Nandi Bear."


    He seemed confused. "A what?"


    "A Nandi Bear. Think of a bear, but stronger at the front and with a bigger, uglier head. It is a beast from south of the deserts. Must have escaped from whoever brought it here. Is this what you''re here for?"


    "No, but that''s an interesting story. What I meant to ask is if you had come across anyone."


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    Dene lightly shook her head. "Can''t say that I did. Not many people wander off the beaten path, to be honest. Too many wild beasts. Most of the time, I''m staring down at the ground for animal tracks."


    "Is that so? Maybe it slipped from your mind. How about coming with us to see if something doesn''t jog your memory?"


    Dene''s grip on the door handle tightened. "My memory is fine, and I don''t need to go anywhere. If that''s all¡ª"


    "My apologies, but that wasn''t a request." He took a step forward. "I need you to come with me." Vasilis lunged forward, trying to grab hold of her. He closed the distance in a single jump.


    Dene jumped back. Fortunately, John had already moved out of the way. Coupled with pulling herself back with a shadow tendril wrapped around her waist, she was barely able to avoid his grasp.


    She drew her weapons and did an overhead slash. Vasilis countered with a bluish slash of his own. Their weapons clashed and Dene was further pushed back, but she did manage to pause his advance.


    Something wasn''t right. The man was certainly a Paladin, but the force of his attack didn''t quite match. It didn''t seem like he had been holding himself back. Was he injured, perhaps?


    There was no time to ask. Vasilis raised a leg and kicked at her chest, sending her crashing through the back door. Dene landed with a backward roll and was back on her feet the next moment, just in time to avoid his descending fist. She took this chance to strike, drawing blood from his extended arm.


    She was about to follow up on her attack when a series of metallic clanks rang from inside the house. With a glance, she found John sprawled over the stove, the pots knocked over the floor. Also on the floor was one of the men, a Fighter, bleeding from his chest. The other three Fighters made a half-circle around John while the Crusader closed in on him.


    Dene didn''t think. She formed a dark cloud around the Crusader''s head while a shadow tendril pulled on his sword arm. That was all the attention she could spare before Vasilis was back on her. He hacked at her with the side of the sword. Whatever his reasons, he really wanted her alive. Regardless, she still couldn''t take it on and had to duck under it.


    He kicked, pierced at her limbs, hacked and kicked again, always moving forward.


    Dene''s only course of action was to jump back and deflect when the former wasn''t possible. But she couldn''t continue like that for long. It had barely been a couple of minutes since they started fighting and she was already getting fatigued.


    Her decreased vitality affected more than just her lifespan. She felt weak and tired most of the time, and her cultivation had barely improved ever since. She had to try and beat him as soon as possible, and that meant going on the offensive.


    With the setting sun casting a long shadow to her left, Dene made her move. She barely dodged a knee aimed at her gut and jumped to his left so that the sun now shone on his face.


    The Paladin squinted, blindly raising his sword to block.


    Dene slashed with both blades aimed at his sword arm, one at the shoulder and the other at the wrist. A Paladin''s body was tougher, but not enough to remain unscathed after a full-blown attack from her.


    Bleeding from both wounds, the Paladin dropped his weapon. He tried to jump back. She acted first. With all the mental strength she could muster, Dene summoned half a dozen dark tendrils from the ground. The shadows quickly slithered and wrapped themselves around his ankle.


    As he attempted to move, the tendrils snapped almost immediately, only managing to stagger him. That was enough of a pause for her to plunge both swords on his thigh. With a pained yell, the Paladin fell to the ground. She didn''t let up.


    His rippled steel sword laid on the ground between them. Dene slid one foot under it and kicked up, catching it mid-air. With weapon in hands, she unleashed an onslaught of attacks as he, unable to stand up, curled up and tried to protect his neck and head.


    Or at least she planned to. As her first attack cut on his side, spraying the grass with blood, a voice boomed out: "Stop, or the boy dies!" She looked at the source and found the Crusader at what was left of the doorway. His face had a big gash from his cheek and through his ear. He had one arm firmly wrapped around John''s neck, while the other arm dangled and dripped with blood.


    John himself was in a better state, though still a bit worse for wear. His nose had been bent out of shape, blood flowing over his lips and dripping down his chin. His gray tunic was dirty and spotted red from random scrapes.


    Scurrying behind the Crusader was one of the Fighters, a short woman with messy, blonde hair. No one else moved from inside the house, all seemingly dead.


    The Crusader put more force on his arm, and John struggled to breathe. "Surrender," he ordered, "now!" Even with just one arm, it wouldn''t be difficult for him to break John''s neck. They both knew that. But they also knew that if he did, then Vasilis would follow in death.


    Vasilis remained curled up on the ground, his own sword pressed against his ribs. If he even tried to move, then Dene would put all of her weight on the weapon and pierce his lung. The wound would kill him eventually. Without a healer, even his current wounds may already be enough for him to die.


    Without the Paladin, Dene could make short work of everyone left, even as fatigued as she was. But that would mean sacrificing John.


    Dene stared at the Crusader, who in turn stared back at her. No one tried to make the first move, both sides wary of what could happen. Her mind worked nonstop as she, to no avail, tried to figure a way out of their situation.


    She wasn''t fast enough to rush them. She could obscure the Crusader''s vision with a spell, but John would remain in his grasp. Same for trying to pull on him with a shadow tendril. Her short swords, currently buried on Vasilis'' thigh, were too unbalanced to make a decent throw. Even more so for the Paladin''s longsword.


    Dene finally resigned herself to the fact that there was no way out for them. She looked at her son, tears pooling in her eyes. "John. I love you."


    John''s eyes widened seemingly in realization. He tried, in vain, to struggle away from the Crusader''s grasp, his face turning red as the arm holding his neck remained firm.


    With one hand still holding the sword against Vasilis, Dene grasped and slid her hand down the blade. The pain was neglectable, especially in comparison to the effects of blood magic, both physical and emotional. Dene trembled nonstop as her body seemingly broke itself apart.


    How much longer would she be able to survive after this? A week? A day?


    John drew the dagger from inside his tunic and pierced the Crusader''s gut. The man groaned in pain but didn''t let go of him. Instead, he put even more strength in his arm.


    Dene couldn''t maintain her state for long. First, she needed to save her son.


    From the Crusader''s shadow, a pitch-black hand emerged. It stretched upwards and grabbed the man by the head. He didn''t have time to panic before being violently yanked towards the floor. His head was crushed by the impact. The blonde Fighter screamed in panic.


    Dene prepared to deal with her too when there was a dull pain on her ribs, and she found herself thrown backward before skidding to a stop.


    Vasilis struggled to stand on one foot, unable to move his other leg. He used one hand to hold up his bleeding side while the other pulled one of the swords out of his thigh. With just one leg, the Paladin gave a single hop towards Dene, sword aimed at her head. He seemed to have given up on taking her alive, but it was far too late.


    Dene didn''t try to stand or even sit up. In fact, she didn''t know if she was able to. Instead, she simply willed it and a pitch-black hand caught Vasilis mid-air by the arm.


    The Paladin didn''t give up. He let go of the sword, grabbed it again with his other arm, and threw it at her chest. The short sword wasn''t intended to be a throwing weapon and, coupled with his lack of solid footing, only managed to bang the hilt against her arm.


    Still, against her severely weakened body, that was enough to break the bone.


    The pain barely registered. Dene looked at him straight in the eye. "You bastard." Her words sounded more like a groan than someone speaking.


    If not for this Paladin, then she wouldn''t have been forced to use blood magic. If not for him, then she would have been able to spend more time with her son, watch him grow even more. Now her magic was ripping her apart. She would to the same to him.


    A second hand stretched from the shadow at the trunk of a tree and grabbed Vasilis by the other arm. One hand holding each arm, they then came taut as they pulled.


    Vasilis screamed in pain as his arms were forcefully stretched. With an audible pop, his shoulders were dislocated. The wounds on his arm opened even more. Muscles and tendons snapped and turned into a bloody mess. Finally, the arm was ripped apart from the body and he lost consciousness.


    Unceremoniously, the hand flicked him into the trees. He crashed through two of them before bouncing lifelessly from the trunk of the third. The hand holding the arm did the same in the opposite direction.


    As soon as it was done, the spells began to dissipate, going from pitch-black, to gray, then translucent and finally disappeared. Dene intended to do that, but she hadn''t willed it yet. They disappeared because their fuel, her, had finally run out.


    Dene lay on the grass barely moving. Even the soft rising and lowering of her chest as she breathed turned into a struggle. Her vision started to turn dim at the edges and the heartbeats thumping at her ears started to sound like footsteps. No. They were footsteps.


    Something as simple as raising her head off the ground had already turned impossible. "John?" she asked in between wheezes.


    As the footsteps approached, the person finally came into view. The first thing Dene saw was the messy, blonde hair. Next came the round, brown eyes that looked back at her in fear. Fear that was reflected in the trembling hands holding the sword.


    The woman looked at Dene, towards where Vasilis had landed and then back at her. She bit her lip, unsure if she should leave her to die or directly kill her. Finally, she seemed to have made a decision. Her trembling hands raised the sword above her head.

 44 Fight to survive Part 2

    John jumped to the side as soon as Vasilis stepped forward. Not a moment too soon, seeing that the Paladin lunged forward after his mother who immediately jumped back. A couple of seconds after that, they broke through the backdoor and were fighting outside.


    He wanted to go and help but knew that he''d only be in her way. Instead, he had other things to worry about.


    Vasilis''s companions weren''t there to just stand and watch. A balding Fighter donning a wrinkled, white tunic strutted forward, either due to a lack of knowledge or an abundance of confidence. John betted it was mostly the latter. He held an old, uncoated sword, half-again as long as John''s, with various nicks and signs of damage along its edges. "What''s your name boy?"


    John remained silent and drew his weapons, ignoring his aching muscles from the morning sparring. Dene always said that enemies wouldn''t wait until he was in top condition to fight, so he should always be ready.


    The man seemed to know his way around a sword, though not against those who knew how to fight back. There were various nicks on his blade''s edge, but barely a scratch on its side, which tends to happen when the blade is parried by another. More than likely, his opponents would blindly hack against his sword, hoping to win by sheer force and a stroke of luck.


    Confirming John''s assumptions, the man made sure to telegraph his intentions. John parried an overhead slash, sidestepped a shoulder bash, and used this opening to shove a sword through his enemy''s chest. The man collapsed, barely moving after that.


    Startled, the other Fighters learned from their companion''s fatal mistake and stood back as the Crusader advanced. The man stood as tall as John, with a head of black hair cropped as short as possible. His beard did little to conceal his weak chin, which, paired with beady eyes and a large nose, gave him a rat-like face.


    Like his dying companion, he walked with the confidence of someone who didn''t believe he could be beaten. Against a single Fighter, he may very well be right. "Drop the weapon kid, you know you can''t beat me."


    "I sure can try." John smiled in defiance. "And that gives me more chance than surrendering."


    "It will also make it much worse for you afterward," he stepped into the house and over his fallen companion. "This is your last chance."


    "Tell you what, I''ll give you a chance. Forget whatever you came here to do, take your friends and leave." John glanced at the man bleeding on their kitchen floor. "If they can still walk, of course, but I''m sure that if you hurry¡ª" A loud crash mixed with the sound of wood splintering interrupted him. He didn''t look back, trusting... hoping that his mother would manage to fend off against the Paladin.


    "Sorry kid," said Ratface before lunging.


    John''s years of daily training fighting against someone stronger kicked in. He barely dodged a straight punch, the gust of wind brushing against his skin, but he did manage to keep his balance.


    The Crusader didn''t pull his arm back. Instead, he went with the motion, twisted, and sent an elbow towards John''s head, who hastily ducked under it.


    Those were two close calls, but John remained unscathed. He started to believe that he might have a fighting chance. Faster than he could follow, a kick to the chest squashed any such notion as well as sending him flying.


    He fell over the stove, knocking all of the pots aside. The hearth remained warm to the touch. He struggled to get the air back on his lungs and himself back on his feet.


    The Crusader wouldn''t allow this breathing space. Sword drawn, he walked towards John when, suddenly, a dark mist formed around his head, obfuscating his vision. A dark tendril emerged from his shadow and yanked his sword arm, throwing him off balance.


    His companions moved in to help; John was both faster and nearer. He hastily got up from the stove and slashed at the man''s neck.


    Dene''s spell blocked Ratface''s eyesight, but not his hearing. Alarmed, he ducked, turning what would be a fatal injury into a nasty, but non-life threatening wound. Still, he recoiled from the pain.


    John didn''t let up.


    His arm still being held by the shadowy tendril, Ratface wasn''t able to move well. He leaned to the side, barely preventing John from piercing his chest. Instead, the blade sank where the shoulder met the chest.


    As soon as he did so, a throwing knife came flying to where John stood, forcing him to jump back. John cursed at himself for not managing to finish the man off before his companions arrived, but hopefully those wounds would put him out of fighting condition.


    The man who threw the knife began to hack at the tendril holding Ratface while his companions, a blonde woman and a man seemingly just out of puberty, closed in on John. They did it cautiously though, not because they knew that time was on their side, but because the memory of what that halfbreed boy did to their companion remained fresh in their mind.


    As such, John had to be the one going on the offensive. He feinted a lunge towards the woman ¡ª who promptly tried to defend herself ¡ª and changed it to a slash at the boy''s face, who seemed to be the most inexperienced of them.


    That proved to be the case, as he tried to block the attack by holding his sword practically in front of his face. Although it succeeded in stopping the attack, the impact sent the boy''s blade into his own face, splitting his nose in half and almost blinding him of one eye. Not that it would matter, seeing that he would die anyway.


    Crying in pain from the wound, he dropped the sword and left himself unable to stop John''s next attack, which cut through his throat. The boy gurgled as he brought both hands to his neck, trying in vain to stop the bleeding, before falling to his knees and ultimately to the floor.


    "No!" cried the blonde woman. The boy''s death seemed to hit her much harder than the balding man''s.


    ''Good,'' John thought. These people came into their home and tried to harm him and his mother. They would get no mercy from John, and he knew she would be of a similar mind.


    Enraged, the woman furiously attacked, leaving herself full of openings that John could have exploited to end her life. Instead, he dodged the first attack, kicked a chair towards her legs, and put her out of his mind as he focused back on the biggest threat.


    The knife-throwing Fighter had just managed to cut the tendril holding Ratface''s arm, but the dark mist obfuscating his view still hadn''t completely faded.


    Noticing John''s intentions, the Fighter put himself between the two and threw another knife at John, who twisted and barely dodged it. He tried to throw another, but John closed the distance before he could. From there, the outcome was already decided.


    The man could compete neither in reach nor in agility and, as such, couldn''t stop John from slashing through his gut.


    ''Now to take ca¡ª''


    "You bastard!" the blonde woman yelled and rushed, sword held high to slash at John.


    ''This bitch,'' John cursed inside as he was forced to focus back on her. With the dying Fighter to his right, a wall to his left, and the Crusader behind him, John had no choice but to catch the attack head-on.


    Keeping a tight grip on his weapons, he raised both swords up high to meet the incoming attack. The impact ran through John''s already sore body, but it did manage to stop the attack.


    Before she could try again, he shifted his weight to one foot and raised the other to deliver a powerful kick to her chest. Not a serious wound, by far, but it did manage to push her off balance and she fell to the floor.


    With nothing left in his way, John turned back to the Crusader, just in time to catch the man''s fist with his face. Ratface''s punch seemed to weight the same as a boulder and felt just as hard. John saw stars and ended up knocked to the floor along with the woman.


    Still disoriented, he felt himself being pulled to his feet. He tried to cut at whoever was near, but one sword had been knocked from his hands when he fell to the floor while the other was yanked away as soon as he tried to lift it.


    "Kill him," the woman''s shrill voice thundered inside John''s head, hurting his ears and worsening his headache. "He murdered Kiran, kill him!"


    John tried to open his eyes and look around but saw everything doubled, leaving him even more disoriented. It became impossible to breathe through his nose, and a warm, iron-tasting liquid flowed down from it. ''Probably broken,'' he concluded.


    "We still need him," Ratface''s voice sounded out. "Don''t forget what we came here to¡ª" He paused mid-sentence. "Shit!" he cursed, and John could feel himself being dragged.


    He tried to open his eyes again. His vision finally returned to normal, and he found himself being dragged by Ratface toward''s a hole at the back of the cottage where the backdoor used to be. When they finally came to a stop where the door once stood, a strong hand wrapped itself around John''s throat.


    "Stop or the boy dies!" Ratface screamed at the top of his lungs.


    John raised his head to look and found his mother standing over a bloody Vasilis, her swords buried on his thigh. He almost couldn''t believe it. She had beaten a Paladin by herself.


    The surprise of it even made him forget about his current situation. Ratface''s tightening grip around his throat brought him back to reality.


    "Surrender, now!"


    His mother''s gaze remained firmly on him, as she seemingly considered her options. With his own sword pressed against his ribs, the Paladin didn''t dare to move. In resignation, she finally gave a deep sigh as tears pooled in her eyes. "John. I love you."


    ''What is she¡­'' John wondered for a moment until it finally hit him. Blood magic. ''No¡­ No!'' He elbowed, kicked, and clawed at the Crusader, trying in vain to escape his grasp.


    The man tightened his grip in response, and John became unable to breathe, but he didn''t care. Just as his mother slid her hand along the sword''s edge, he finally recalled the dagger hidden in his tunic. He quickly drew it out and stabbed back at the Crusader''s gut, hoping that the sudden pain would make him let go.


    Instead, he put all of his strength into his hand, almost crushing John''s throat. But just before it came to this, John felt himself being yanked back and down along with Ratface.


    He heard the sound of wood splintering as well as what sounded like a watermelon cracking. The woman''s shrill scream came next, but John barely paid it any attention as the grip on his neck finally loosened and he could breathe again, although with much difficulty.


    The sudden yank left him even more disoriented and he struggled to get back on his feet. The first thing he saw was Ratface''s head crushed into the wooden floor. For whatever reason, the blonde woman didn''t stab him while he was down, which didn''t make him any calmer.


    He looked around, searching for the woman, and found her standing over his mother''s body, sword in hands. Despite his sore body and the disorientation, John didn''t stop to think. He yanked the dagger from Ratface''s gut and rushed towards her.


    Just as she raised her sword for the final strike, he fell upon her with a fury he had only felt once in his two lives. He stabbed once, twice, thrice, until she finally stopped moving after the fifth stab.


    Dead, the enemy woman no longer had any importance, so John focused on the only thing that had. "Mom!" He scrambled to get by her side. She lay on the ground, barely moving. If not for the faint up and down of her chest as she breathed, he would think she had died. Her unfocused eyes looked to the sky, not because she wanted to, but because she could no longer move them.


    "J-John," she gasped out the words.


    "Mom, I''m here." He grasped her hand, tears blurring his vision. "I''m here."


    "I''m sorry¡­ this is it..." She breathed in. "My necklace¡­ key¡­ yours now..."


    "No, no, no," John repeated the word in between sobs as if it were a mantra that could turn everything back to how it was.


    "All that''s left?? of us¡­ our people..." She struggled even harder to breathe. "It was my burden¡­ yours now..."


    John shook his head. "I can''t. I''m not ready."


    "You can¡­ I trained you myself..." Her hand moved slightly on his'', and her face showed a faint smile. She said nothing more. She stopped breathing.


    "Mom!" John''s sobs turned into crying. For the first time in this new world, he was alone.

 45 Travel

    The air in the swamp was thick and wet. The sun insisted on peeking through the canopy above, only adding to the region''s uncomfortable heat. John''s back and thighs ached, but he forced himself to remain upright on his horse. Bad posture would only bring more pain later on.


    He could look for some atroil''s root to chew. It would relieve the pain, but also make him more sluggish, which is why his mother always advised him to bear the pain instead.


    John sighed and closed his eyes after remembering his pain. Not his aching muscles, his still healing nose, or even the various mosquito bites on his exposed hands. It was much worse than all of that. His heart ached thinking about how he was alone in the world.


    Sure, in his previous life he would get separated from Lucas for months, but he could power through knowing that he had someone to come back to. When Lucas died, that was the moment when he lost it.


    Feeling this pain for the second time didn''t make it easier. Two weeks had passed and his heart still pained at the death of his mother. After her death, he did as she told and took her necklace.


    He knew he couldn''t remain there for long, but he also couldn''t just leave her body there. She deserved a proper funeral, but there was no time for one, so he did his best. He wrapped her body in a white bedsheet, first making sure to close her eyes ¡ª that was the hardest part.


    After doing so, he carried her body down to the pantry and left her there. After taking whatever he could from the house, he then set it on fire. He doubted that the heat would be enough to cremate her, especially with her being a Crusader, and that was for the better.


    From her mother''s stories, the desert tribes were a collection of different beliefs, cultures, and religions. One of the few beliefs shared by most of the tribes was that cremation was a big taboo.


    The desert religions all believed in their own sort of life after death, so destroying their bodies was akin to ruining their chance at reincarnation. Of course, there were those who shared this belief but still did it as a way to punish someone. Others claimed that the bones stored the person''s strength, so they''d grind it to dust and consume it.


    From his own experience reincarnating, John didn''t share any of these beliefs, but it didn''t matter. What mattered was that his mother believed in it, so he would honor that, even after death. Not only that, but he also hoped to go back there one day and give her a proper funeral. And for that, he first had to survive.


    After setting their house on fire, John knew he still wasn''t safe. For starters, he didn''t know who were those people, nor if there were more of them.


    John had to leave, but first, he made sure to retrieve his mother''s weapons from the Paladin''s body. After that, he covered himself in a cloak and headed into the town''s general store. He arrived there just as it was about to close. The cloak, coupled with the evening''s low light, helped to cover his bloodshot eyes but there was no hiding his broken nose.


    "Miss Ellie is working you as hard as ever, huh?" Edmund commented with a smile.


    John forced himself to act normal. "I''m already used to it." He didn''t manage to smile. "She actually sent me here to get the rest of the coins for the loot. The two of us will be going to Mistrun for a couple of days."


    "I heard that they had a surplus of wheat this harvest, so the price should be low. Could you check it for me? I just might go there and buy a shipment to resell here."


    "Sure," John agreed. After getting the sack of coins, he left the store and then the town. He stopped at the first farm where he could acquire a horse. The farmers had already gone to sleep, but that was good because it meant that there was no one watching the animals. He was already being targeted by whoever those people were, so becoming a horse thief would be the least of his problems.


    John first undid the knot holding the fence gate closed. When done, he then opened it all the way and propped it with a heavy stone in case the wind blew too hard. Done with that, he sneaked towards the stables.


    Unlike the fence gate, the stable''s door had a sturdy padlock keeping it shut. It was far cruder than the locks back on Earth, but his lack of practice forced him to spend a good ten minutes to lockpick it. The sharp click when it unlocked finally allowed John to relax for a moment.


    He pushed the door open, slowly so that it wouldn''t creak and then propped it open just like with the fence gate. Struggling to see in the dark interior, he counted around fifteen horses. John picked the most docile looking one and strapped it with an old rein he found lying around. Unfortunately, he didn''t have the same luck regarding the saddle.


    Holding the rein with a hand, John soothed the animal with the other, praying to whatever deity was watching that it wouldn''t neigh. Thankfully, it didn''t, and John managed to guide it out of the farm. With that done, he then mounted on it and rode east.


    Both the dim moonlight and the lack of a saddle meant that he couldn''t gallop at all, being forced to trot the whole time. Still, he managed a good time, reaching the village of Smallbury a couple of hours after dawn.


    He didn''t stop there, and took the road south to the town of Mistrun; at least that''s what the villagers would tell anyone who asked.


    John never planned on going to Mistrun, which is why he told Edmund that he would. After an hour riding south, he veered the horse away from the road and towards the woods, where he released the animal.


    From there, he backtracked north on foot, foregoing any roads in favor of the less populated woods and countryside. John made it past Smallbury and the village after it until finally deciding to return to the main roads. He then stopped at the first village he came by and acquired himself a horse ¡ª legitimately this time.


    The old man who sold the horse gouged him on the price, either due to his color or because John looked like a child who didn''t know the actual price for a horse. Whatever the man''s reasons, John''s pouch became much lighter.


    After spending most of his coins on the mount, John continued moving north towards his real destination: Rochdale.


    It had been a fortnight since he was forced to leave Greenflower. He felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. During this whole ordeal, John had to remain alert at all times. Sleeping was of little help, as every small hustle or sounds of nature woke him up. It all took a toll on him.


    His journey neared its end, though it remained to be seen if for the better.


    John was taking a huge gamble and, from both his lives, he knew these were a great way to get killed. There was no other choice though. Every day he remained away from civilization, he risked being killed, not necessarily by the same people who came to their home.


    He could be waylaid by bandits, end up as some beast''s meal, or even be killed by a passing noble wanting to rid the world from some half-bred boy.


    Like it or not, John was still just a Fighter child. Alone, his death would just be a matter of time. As such, he''d prefer walking straight into a possible lion''s den in hopes of surviving than sitting around waiting for death to come.


    In his chest, above his heart and in between the tunic and the armor, was the letter written by his father and addressed to earl Hagen of Rochdale. It was the only thing that Jonathan gave Dene before they were forced to part. On it, he asked his old friend to look after Dene and their unborn child.


    Despite how much time had passed, the letter remained sealed. His mother never opened it, in case they would need it someday. That day had finally come. John would find out if friendship and honor among nobles were worth anything. From his mother''s stories of what happened at Grenfell, the prospects weren''t good.


    After passing this stretch of swamp, he''d come across a patch of woods, after which there''d be a clear path to Rochdale. All going well, John gaged he''d get there well before sunset.


    The drenched terrain and tall shrubbery of the swamps gradually cleared in favor of green grass and trees close together.


    John stopped to refill his waterskin at probably the last body of freshwater he''d come across. Just as he knelt down though, he heard the beating of hooves on the ground coming his way.

 46 Blades and Spells

    Whoever was coming, John wanted none of it. His first instinct was to run, but a chase through unfamiliar lands would certainly fail. As he couldn''t turn himself and his horse invisible, the only option was to stand and wait.


    The seconds seemed to stretch forever. His heart drummed loudly in his chest. He would have grabbed the bow if it weren''t unstrung and hidden among his luggage. As he was no longer in Greenflower, being caught with a bow would cause him to be labeled as a poacher; just another way for him to get killed.


    Coming from a bend down on the dirt road, around a hundred meters in front of him, John got a look on the riders. Galloping, they were five in total. The two in the front, a man and a woman, were seemingly being chased by the other three. That could be good for John, who hoped they would keep going past him.


    No such luck, however. One of the chasers hurled a spear forward, hitting the side of the man''s horse. With a painful neigh, the animal fell forward. The rider fell down rolling on the ground, coming to a stop a few feet from John''s own horse.


    Seeing her companion fall, the woman jumped off her horse, drew a bluish longsword, and rushed to meet the incoming men.


    They were all Fighters, but John still would prefer not to take part in the conflict. Unfortunately, the choice was made in his stead. "Kill the boy too and take his horse," barked one of the men while pointing at John.


    With no other option, John drew the swords from his back and braced himself.


    Different from his companions, the man coming for John chose not to dismount. Maybe he hoped to directly trample John, maybe he didn''t want to bother getting down from his horse. Whatever his reasons, he''d soon learn why that was a bad idea.


    As the horse quickly approached, John remained fixed in place until the last moment. Just as he was about to be trampled, he sidestepped to the left and slashed ¡ª not at the man, but at the horse.


    The rippled steel blade showed why it was such an improvement when compared to regular steel. It cut clean through the horse''s foreleg.


    The animal fell forward, and it would''ve thrown the man to the ground if his leg didn''t get caught at the stirrup. One missing a leg while the other''s was crushed by the mount''s weight, both man and horse agonized on the ground.


    John felt somewhat bad for the animal, but that had been the safest way to deal with the enemy. He moved in and stabbed the man on the neck to finish the job, then he did the same to the horse to end its suffering.


    Done with that, he turned towards the rest and was surprised to find the woman still standing. Not only that, but she also managed to go toe-to-toe with the two men, all the while still protecting her companion, who only now managed to stand up. Her sword became a bluish blur as it slashed left and right to keep the enemies at bay.


    John wondered why they were running if she could fight that well. Surely they''d be able to stand against the three men with just the two of them. The beating of hooves against the ground answered his question; they weren''t just three.


    With more enemies incoming, they had to hurry and deal with the current ones. John rushed in to help the woman.


    Noticing his approach, she blocked a slash from the right, kicked the man on the left, and attacked the man on the right, coinciding with John''s own attack. He stabbed low, she slashed high, and the man died.


    It didn''t happen by chance, no doubt about that; she definitely planned it. John wished to know more about it, but they had to deal with the current problem first. After making short work of the last enemy, they all looked down the dirt road. Four more riders appeared, weapons drawn and held high to attack.


    "Head to the trees," John immediately spoke. "They''ll be forced to dismount." The duo nodded and followed him into the trees. "Let''s form a line and wait for them." John pointed at the man, who seemed to be the weakest of them all. "You stay in the middle and we''ll cover you."


    To his surprise, they both disagreed.


    "Stay in the back, Nevil," she told the man who promptly agreed as if already thinking the same thing.


    "I do better with spells than with swords," he said and John had no choice but to trust him as they had no time to argue


    John and the woman stood side by side, prepared to defend the spellcaster while he worked his spell. They stood at arm''s length from one another; enough to cover for each other if needed, but not so much that they''d get in each other''s way.


    Ragtag and mismatched, the enemies dismounted and came to their encounter. They didn''t so much have a leader as a bigger guy shouting curses. Wielding a large two-handed axe, he came towards John along with another man wielding a sword and a makeshift shield.


    Needing to stay his ground and protect the spellcaster, John''s usual strategy of moving around his opponent wouldn''t cut.


    The axeman arrived with a powerful but slow downward swing. Armed with two rippled steel swords, John could''ve tried to hit at the axe''s shaft, but there was no guarantee that it wouldn''t knock the sword out of his hand instead. So he opted for the safest choice and sidestepped.


    The axe hit the ground with a loud thump, its edge disappearing on the ground.


    John attempted a stab, but the man''s companion arrived just in time, bashing John with the shield.


    John was knocked a couple of steps back but managed to keep his balance.


    Instead of pressing the attack, the shieldsman stood by the axeman, protecting him in case John decided to attack again. They seemed experienced at fighting together, and John doubted he''d easily find a gap in their defenses. But he didn''t need to. All he needed to do was hold off long enough for the spell to complete.


    The axeman yanked his weapon off the ground and once again advanced on John, this time sweeping left to right.


    John ducked under it. Before he could try and slash at the man''s legs, the shieldsman arrived once again, this time swinging down his sword. In too awkward a position to dodge, John put both swords up in an X. His arms budged somewhat from the impact, but they ultimately held strong.


    Rather, it was the man''s sword that took the worst of it, now sporting a deep dent on its edge. One more such attempt and his weapon would break off.


    John disentangled their swords by swiping them to the side. He quickly stood up and prepared for the next swing of the axe when a voice shouted from behind him: "Move!"


    John didn''t think twice before jumping to the right, just in time to avoid a flaming jet aimed at the axeman.


    Startled by the sudden spell, the axeman tried to defend himself with his weapon, and it worked as well as one would expect. The fire quickly spread to engulf his whole torso. His shrieks echoed through the forest and the smell of burning flesh spread out. He dropped the axe and then similarly dropped to the ground, rolling to try and put off the flames.


    His companion moved in between him and John in hopes of protecting him. He slashed at John who, instead of blocking, this time slashed back with both swords.


    Concluding what started when their blades first clashed, the man''s sword broke in half. Caught off guard, he took a moment too long to retract his arm.


    Not forgiving the mistake, John slashed, cutting deep into the man''s forearm.


    With a painful grunt, the man hid behind his shield. John reacted by unleashing a flurry of attacks against it. It didn''t break through, but it did manage to put him on the back foot. From there, John dropped the sword on his left hand and grabbed the shield, pulling it down just enough to stab the man hiding behind it.


    Completely off-balance, the man could do nothing to prevent John from hilting a sword in between his ribs. John yanked his weapon free and the man crumpled to the ground.


    The axeman had long stopped moving, so now there were just two more left; John grabbed his other sword from the ground and rushed to finish them off.


    The woman still held strong, albeit a bit worse for wear with a couple of cuts on her arms.


    Nevil now held a knife in his hands. Although he didn''t attack, his presence offered a constant distraction to the enemies, especially after his spell.


    Noticing John''s approach, the woman repeated the move from earlier. She slashed left, kicked the man on the right towards John, and focused her attacks on the man on the left.


    On his own and off-balance, the man who got kicked had no chance to compete. A weak swing of the sword was all he managed before John buried a blade in his gut.

 47 Asif

    John pulled his weapon free. The man fell and agonized on the ground. He''d already die on his own with such a wound, but John didn''t want to take any chances. A slash through the neck ensured his death.


    A couple of moments later, the woman shoved a sword through the last enemy''s chest.


    John looked around, checking for more enemies but, fortunately, these seemed to be the last of them. He breathed a sigh of relief, the same for the other two. They were all gasping for breath, the spellcaster most of all, which was odd considering how little fighting he did.


    Still, he was the first to speak. "Thanks for the assistance," he spoke with a weak smile. "You really saved us, right Bella?" he asked the woman.


    She nodded in response, though she remained with a distant look on her face.


    Now that the fighting was done, John could take a better look at the two. They weren''t a man and a woman, not yet at least. Both were young, around John''s own age, which to him meant they were children.


    She had chestnut brown hair pulled back in a ponytail while he had a mess of dirty blonde curls. Their eyes were a dark brown that looked somewhat similar to one another.


    Both had empty quivers strapped to their backs, but no bows in sight; probably dropped during the chase.


    Their clothes, a mix of brown and dark green, were dirty and scraped in some places. From that, John would think them to be a pair of hungry children trying to score their next meal, but that didn''t quite fit. For starters, the girl carried a rippled steel sword on her hip, while the boy was already a mage at his age.


    Not only that, but their clothes also fit perfectly as if tailored for them and, although they were damaged, there was none of the wear and tear from years of use. All buttons were in place, the seams weren''t coming undone, and the fabric showed no signs of fraying. All the damage had been recent.


    If they weren''t poor commoners poaching for food, then they were on the other end of the spectrum: nobles.


    "Are you from around these parts?" Nevil asked.


    John shook his head. "I''m coming from down south," he answered, not specifying from where exactly.


    "Oh, we''re from up north. Me and Bella we¡ª hey, wait." While he''d been talking, Bella walked towards the horses. "Where are you going?"


    "Chase," she answered curtly and started riding back to where they came.


    At her response, Nevil took on a somber expression. He turned to John. "Look, you seem to be heading to Rochdale. We''re heading there too, so maybe we could all go together. It would be safer, and we''ll be able to properly thank you when we get there."


    John considered refusing. Even if they were friendly, he''d prefer not to mix with more nobles than necessary. But if they were also from Rochdale, then maybe they''d be able to help him. He needed to hand the letter to the Earl, and they could help make it happen. If not them, then maybe their parents. So John agreed. He climbed back on his horse.


    Nevil''s horse lay on the ground, a spear shaft sticking out from its side, so he had to pick one of the men''s horses.


    "Who were those men by the way?" John asked.


    "Highwaymen, I believe. My father says that there''s been a lot of those around due to the rebellion against Earl Skanler. We were out hunting when we stumbled on them. At least now they won''t be harming people ever again."


    "These ones at least," John added.


    They both rode the rest of the way in silence. Five minutes later, they finally found Bella kneeling beside the body of a reddish-brown dog. A sword stood buried halfway into its side.


    Laying dead around her were three other men. One bled out from on wound on his back while the other two had arrow shaft sticking out from their chests.


    Nevil dismounted and came to her side. He placed a hand on her shoulder.


    She looked at him and then back to the sword. "I can''t," she said, her voice trembling.


    Nevil took a deep breath. "I''ll do it." He took hold of the sword''s grip and pulled it free in a single yank.


    Bella choked a sob as the sword came free leaving behind an open wound. Blood oozed rather than flowed. The poor animal was already dead. She took it in her arms and returned to her horse, managing to mount it without using her hands.


    The ride north was, thankfully, uneventful. At least when it came to any more fighting. Every once in a while, Bella would start sobbing while holding her dead dog. Meanwhile, Nevil''s body began to tremble nonstop despite the heat.


    Those were the after-effects of an adrenaline rush. If they weren''t on horseback, neither of the two would be able to stand up. John had seen that happen more times than he could remember. That, coupled with their ages and the fact that they never went through such an ordeal before, meant that the two would need a lot of time to process everything.


    At some point, Nevil let go of the reins and placed both hands under his arms to stop them from shaking. John looked at his own hands; they were perfectly still.


    He couldn''t help thinking back to the first time he claimed a life. He''d been on the roof of a bombed-out bakery while offering cover to his fellow soldiers on patrol. Lying prone, he had a water bottle to his left and a five meters fall to his right from where a tank shell hit.


    The sun hitting his back was almost unbearable. He couldn''t wait to be done with that assignment so that he could drink a cold one later. Suddenly, he noticed movement in distance. John looked through his scope and found a man skulking around on a building''s terrace. His name was Asif ¡ª John looked into it after it happened.


    He had a black tank top and a white turban around his head. His beard was unkempt and he had a skinny build. He seemed to be holding something, but John couldn''t make it out due to a short wall at the roof where the man was.


    Asif peeked down at the street below where a squad walked around on patrol. He pulled back, looked to the sky, and said something that John couldn''t hear with all the distance between them; maybe a prayer.


    John kept his sight on Asif. The man on his scope returned to the ledge and finally revealed the AK-47 he had been holding. John didn''t stop to think, as hesitation could mean a countryman dying.


    His scope was sighted to a 100 meters while his target stood at around double of that. John aimed his reticle at the top of Asif''s turban to make up for the bullet drop and pulled the trigger.


    John felt the kick of the gun against his shoulder and heard a low ringing on his right ear. Asif''s head jerked back, a pink mist erupting from the other side of his head.


    John spent a week unable to sleep well after that but, at that exact instant, he only felt relieved that the bullet had hit. "Always aim for the center of mass," his drill sergeant would say. "A bullet to the head may be almost certain death, but the torso is a much bigger target. Be it the lungs or the small intestine, you will hit something important."


    Some kills left more of a mark than others. The image of Asif''s head jerking back remained with John for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, he couldn''t recall the faces of the men he killed less than half-an-hour ago.


    John''s seemingly normal behavior didn''t go unnoticed.


    "Are you okay?" Nevil asked.


    John couldn''t help finding it funny for some reason. "Shouldn''t I be asking you that?"


    Nevil paused for a moment. "That man¡­ he died¡­ I hit him with a spell and he died."


    "Yeah, that tends to happen when you set people on fire." John regretted his words as soon as they came out. ''He''s just a child, you idiot.''


    As expected, Nevil was hit hard by his words and didn''t respond.


    "Look," John tried to comfort him. "What both of you went through is one of the hardest things that can happen. Taking another person''s life will always leave a mark, no matter the circumstances. If it doesn''t, then something is wrong with you."


    The boy looked back at him. "You don''t look fazed."


    It was John''s turn to pause. "No, I don''t."


    No one else spoke after that. They traveled like this for more than an hour before the trees finally began to clear up. After going through one last hill, John finally got a look at his destination. Rising at the horizon was a brown wall that rose to circle the whole city.


    As they approached it, John was able to observe it better. Large blocks of a brown stone were lined on top of one another to form the gigantic wall. It looked even taller than the bell tower back at Greenflower. Guards in dark gray armor either patrolled the battlements or stood by the sides of the gate. In both cases, they seemed to be there solely to maintain order.


    Bellow the raised portcullises, people came in and out of the city. The gates were half as tall as the wall itself and large enough for two wagons to pass side-by-side.


    After passing under the outer portcullis, John took note of the various murder-holes at the ceiling. Sunlight peeked through some of them, but most seemed to be obstructed. They likely hadn''t been used in a while.


    The trio passed under the inner portcullis and entered the city. The streets were paved with the same brown stone of the walls. Stone buildings rose from either side of the streets in an orderly fashion as if planned constructions.


    They were about to keep going when one of the guards screamed out, "Halt!"


    The man had a bushy black beard and a small scar over the bridge of his nose. His armor was the same dark gray like the others, but whereas those consisted of vambraces, a brigandine, and a kettle helmet, his uniform also contained a mail coif, a mail collar, and a cape. He seemed to be the captain.


    After what they went through, Nevil and Bella didn''t try to argue. And if they were going to the castle, there was a good chance that the Earl would be there, so John decided to tag along.


    "And who are you boy?" The man eyed John with clear suspicion.


    "You can call me John," he spoke with a smile. "I met with the two nobles and helped them fight off bandits."


    The guard continued eyeing John. "And I''m sure that you did it solely out of the goodness of your heart."


    "Obviously not. They were bandits, so my only option was to step in."


    "Sure. Just wait here then. I''m sure that the lords would like to reward you." He signaled Bella and Nevil to follow him.


    "Actually," John spoke as the captain prepared to leave him behind. "I came to Rochdale to deliver a message to the Earl''s ears."


    "And what is this message?"


    "As I said, it''s for the Earl''s ears only."


    The guard captain scowled. He looked ready to slap John.


    "Just let him come along," Bella spoke for the first time since leaving the woods. "Whatever his reasons, he did save us."


    "Besides," John chipped in, "I don''t want to imagine what the Earl will do if he finds out that such an important message was delayed because of you." He didn''t feel comfortable provoking the man from such a weak position, but he needed to reach the Earl. And besides, if things went south, then an angry guard captain would be the least of his problems.


    The guard captain scowled even harder, spit on the ground, but ultimately didn''t dare to try his luck. He picked four other guards to come along and escort the trio.

 48 Headaches

    Earl Hagen Westbrook plopped down onto the chair on his empty study room, allowing himself at least a couple of minutes to rest. His body was fine. Rather, it was his mind that''d been overworked.


    These last few days, everything seemed to be going the wrong way. For starters, a small town on the outskirts of his territory got raided by Vasilis'' rebels; or at least that''s what the evidence seemed to point at.


    Hagen doubted that Vasilis would order anything of the sort. The man had many good qualities, one of which was his intelligence. Such an attack would only cause other nobles to stand against him, something that the foreigner definitely wouldn''t want.


    Not only that, but Hagen was also well aware that the baroness who lorded over that town was leaning towards the rebels cause. Hagen knew it because he was the one who swayed her to Vasilis'' side.


    If anything, such an unprovoked attack would only make Vasilis look violent and without scruples. Hagen knew exactly who would benefit from that.


    Rass Skanler, Earl of Knight''s Crossing, and exactly the one who Vasilis was rebelling against.


    Hagen once heard that talent skips a generation, and Rass was the proof of that. His father, Edder Skanler, had been one of the most admirable rulers that Hagen ever met. Level-headed, just, kind; these were just some of the compliments received by the man during his lifetime. Rass inherited none of these qualities.


    Cruel, petty, and short-tempered were better ways of describing him. Edder inherited a fiefdom in chaos. He spent most of his life solidifying his rule and trying to improve the lands. Rass seemed set on undoing all of it and leave Knight''s Crossing in a worse state than when his father inherited it.


    If there was one bad thing to say about Edder, then it would be how little time he spent with his children, which was understandable considering how much work he had to do. As such, they were educated solely by the court tutor, one Vasilis Marar.


    Vasilis had never been afraid to reprimand the children when they did wrong ¡ª as he should. But Rass could never accept such a thing. That boy caused Vasilis more headaches than all other children combined.


    In one incident, the boy tested a sword''s sharpness by swinging at a stray dog.


    Vasilis chastised him harshly after that. "You have no honor," he told the boy. "You''ll never be a man."


    Even years after that, Rass never forgot what he considered to be an unjust insult.


    After Edder''s untimely death at The Tongue, the title of Earl fell to Rass. One of his first decisions as Earl was to imprison his old tutor along with his family. He managed to imprison both Vasilis and Marietta, his wife, but their son Devran had been out of town at the time.


    Recalling Vasilis'' words that he''d never be a man, Rass castrated his old tutor. "Now you will never be a man," is what he said according to soldiers present at the time.


    Not satisfied with that, he then turned to Marietta. Claiming how unfortunate it was that they''ll no longer be able to have children, he decided to "enlist his men''s help" and sent her to be used by the soldiers. The Skanler''s favor as it became known.


    Some claim that Rass took part in the **** while others claim that he instead forced Vasilis to watch, but ultimately there were no doubts about the sort of cruel maniac that Rass Skanler was.


    Vasilis and Marietta would probably have died in those dungeons if Devran hadn''t, somehow, managed to break then out. They went into hiding after that, but not forever.


    Years later, they resurged with a vengeance, set on ousting Rass from power. They gathered disgruntled soldiers and dissatisfied villagers and trained them into a veritable fighting force. While still unable to face Rass'' forces head-on, they created enough problems that it became impossible for the Earl to ignore.


    This became a real threat to his rule. Duke Olsandre refused to get involved which, in practice, meant the same as abandoning the Earl.


    Rochdale, the closest neighbor to Knight''s Crossing, didn''t get involved in the conflict, at least for the moment. Hagen wanted to support Vasilis but for that, he first needed to gather all of his forces.


    That''s what he''d been working on. Reunited at his castle were viscountess Hawick and all of the barons under her to discuss plans regarding the conflict.


    Hagen spent weeks planning for this meeting as well as many others. His preparations went from accommodations for all of the nobles, meal courses, and even the seating arrangement during the meetings. This last one was especially important because if barons Semar Teer and Crann Ullrich stayed too close together, then any discussion would detract into a trade of insults between the two; which was exactly what happened today.


    Discussions had been going well until a handmaid couldn''t find Semar''s daughter. While searching for the girl, it was discovered that Crann''s son had also gone missing. The news reached the meeting room, one accused the other, and soon all hopes of deciding anything today evaporated.


    Honestly, Hagen would rather not have to deal with either of the two, but they were too powerful for him to ignore. It honestly amazed Hagen how much the two hated each other while their children got along so well.


    Currently, the missing children were his biggest headache but there were a lot of smaller ones. His cousin Elin, for example, who was caught in bed with a slave. Also the rise of banditry in his lands due to all the tension. Or even his wife who kept pushing him for a child.


    This last one was only a small headache at the moment, but it would grow the more time passed. Before long, his vassals would also start getting nervous about the lack of an heir. Just like Athalia, he also wanted to have children, but only after things settled down. If Rass'' history taught him anything was that children needed attention; attention that he couldn''t spare due to the tensions with Knight''s Crossing. So he asked her to continue taking the arid tea.


    Someone opened the door and walked into the room. Hagen didn''t need to look up to know who it was. "How is it?"


    Athalia, his wife, walked around the desk and sat at its edge, right in front of him. The hemline of her blue dress brushed against his legs. "Semar called Crann a dirty knave and received as an answer that he couldn''t get over the fact that Riyana didn''t want him. So all as expected, I would say."


    "Riyana," Hagen said with a sigh. "She''s been dead for so long and somehow every argument of theirs revolves around her. Have we found the children at least?"


    "Not yet. I searched their rooms for clues. There were no signs of struggle, so I''d say they chose to leave. The handmaid told me that Bellatrix had a hunting bow, but I couldn''t find it anywhere. Same for that hound of hers. If I had to guess, I''d say they went hunting."


    "The nearest place for that would be woods to the south."


    "That''s what I was thinking. I ordered Marleya to grab two squads of guards and go look for then. They''ll be out in ten minutes."


    "Let''s hope they''re fine," he said, not only because he didn''t want them to get hurt, but also because if anything happened to the two, then the discussions would be as good as finished for today.


    Athalia nodded. "How are you doing, by the way?"


    Hagen took a deep breath before sitting up straight. "I''m good, all things considered. I''ll be better when we settle all of the details."


    "Maybe it''s time for a rest. You''ve been working non-stop these past few months." She stood up from the desk and pulled up her dress above the knees so that she could straddle his lap. The Sun of Alella hanging from her neck clinked as she moved.


    "How exactly is this supposed to help me relax?"


    "I have my ways," she said with a smile before bringing her lips down to meet with his. It tasted as sweet as the first time they kissed all those years ago.


    She moved from his lips down to his neck while her hands worked their way down his tunic.


    Maybe she was right; he''d been working too much. Hagen leaned back on the chair, allowing himself a moment to forget about all of his problems. He wanted to stop thinking. Rass, the barons, and even his sister disappeared from his mind.


    Her mouth traveled up and started nibbling on his earlobe. She had just started working on undoing his clothes when there was a knock on the door. Athalia groaned in displeasure. "Tell them to wait," she whispered in his ear.


    For a moment, Hagen was inclined to do just that, but he knew he shouldn''t. So despite what he would like to do, he asked her to get up.


    Athalia gave an overly exasperated sigh of complaint but didn''t try to argue any further. She stood up and pulled her dress back down.


    "Come in," Hagen spoke after a couple of moments to adjust his clothes and make himself presentable again.


    Alon walked into the room with his head full of white hair and fine silk clothes. "My lord, my lady, we found the children."


    Hagen and Athalia looked at one another. That had been fast. "Were they hiding in the castle perhaps?"


    "No, my lord. They were hunting at the forest to the south when they were accosted by bandits. Fortunately, someone helped the two fight the bandits. While physically they''re both fine, lady Teer''s dog has unfortunately been killed."


    "Poor girl, she must be devastated," Athalia said, genuinely concerned.


    "That she is, my lady. The guards say she rode through the gates with the dog''s body in her arms."


    "We''ll all pray for her recovery," Hagen said, mostly honest. While he did hope for her recovery, he was never one to pray, unlike Athalia. "And what about this person who helped then?"


    "That''s what I hoped to bring to your attention next. He''s a half-bred boy coming from down south, though he didn''t say exactly where from. He claims to have a message for you, my lord."


    "And what is this message?"


    "He wouldn''t tell, my lord; said it''s for your ears only. I left him waiting outside in the hallway."


    "Very well, send him in. I''ll hear whatever he has to say."


    Alon bowed before leaving the room. He returned half-a-minute later followed by the boy.


    The boy stood tall, just a couple of inches shorter than Alon himself. His skin was a light brown and mostly covered by a dirty gray cloak under which Hagen noticed a leather armor. He had a well-defined jaw and a broken nose that wasn''t healing all that well.


    Hagen decided to bring a healer to help with his nose, that was the least he could do.


    Crossing over his chest was a pair of belts holding the two swords to his back. The weapons were probably short or else he wouldn''t be able to draw then. Normally Hagen would chastise the guards for allowing people to bring weapons into his castle. But realistically, the boy was more likely to hurt himself than anybody else given he was just a Fighter¡­ no, not just a Fighter.


    It was subtle, but Hagen noticed tiny specks of mana slowly being absorbed into his body. The boy was a Mage. Not particularly strong, but not weak either.


    In the same way that Hagen assessed him, the boy looked over the room, more on instinct than trying to be disrespectful. His gaze lingered somewhat on the window at the side of the room.


    "What''s your name, boy?" Hagen finally asked.


    The boy''s eyes turned back to Hagen. They weren''t exactly green, but not brown either; something in between. "John, my lord."


    "John, from what my chamberlain tells me, you were fundamental at protecting young Bellatrix Teer and Nevil Ullrich and for that, I thank you. He also tells me that you have a message for me."


    "That is correct." John looked at Alon then at Athalia before bringing a hand under his leather armor. He spent a couple of moments fishing for something before finally revealing a letter.


    Hagen extended a hand and the boy walked forward to hand it over. The paper felt rough in Hagen''s hands. It had already started to turn yellow from age. He turned it around and found a red wax seal.


    It depicted a dragon, its head standing tall and looking to the right. Forming a circle around the dragon were the words "Victory or Death."


    Hagen was all too familiar with the emblem and motto; they represented house Olsen of the Great Plains. He wondered how did a half-bred boy was chosen to deliver a letter from the Olsens. The Olsens weren''t the most welcoming to southerners and their offsprings, even more so after Grenfell.


    He was about to ask John about it when he noticed something odd about the seal. Engraved around the dragon''s claws were three laurel wreaths. A tradition inherited by the Solisians, they were used to crown the victor of a King''s Tourney. Three wreaths on the seal meant that the person won three times, and Hagen only knew one Olsen who managed such a feat: Jonathan.

 49 Honor

    The Earl''s eyes widened, and John''s heart got stuck in his throat. This would be the moment of truth. Whatever course his life took would all depend on this moment.


    Part of him wished for either Nevil or Bella to be there with him. He still had his weapons, so they could serve as hostages in case things went south. Another part of him felt guilty for considering such a thing.


    "Alon, thank you for bringing these matters to my attention. You''re dismissed."


    The old man bowed his head and walked out of the room, closing the door behind himself. As the door closed, John realized he could no longer hear anything from the outside. The whole room was soundproof.


    The woman standing behind the earl raised an eyebrow. She peeked at the letter''s seal and similarly widened her eyes. According to his mother, that was his father''s personal seal.


    The earl removed the seal and started reading the letter''s contents. Over his shoulder, the woman did the same. As he continued reading, the man seemed to stop breathing. Finally, he placed the letter down on the desk, but said nothing after that, still processing what he read.


    Rather, the woman was the first one to speak. "By Alella," she said with a gasp. "You''re Jonathan''s son." She moved immediately after. One second she stood behind the earl, while the next she had just vaulted over the desk.


    John''s mind barely worked out that she was a Paladin by the time she was on him. He tried to draw his sword. She pulled his head down before he even managed to raise a hand.


    John felt a sharp pain on his cheek as she held his head against her chest. Trying to pull back was useless given the woman''s strength, but he had no other option but to try.


    She didn''t even seem to notice his struggles and continued holding him tight. "Look at you, you''re so big."


    "Athalia, you''re hurting him," intervened the Earl.


    "What?" She relaxed her grip, finally allowing John to pull away. He felt something warm running down his cheek. The blood had stained her dress as well as the sunburst necklace that hurt him. "Oh, by Alella, I''m so sorry. Here, let me take care of it." She sucked on a thumb which she then used to rub his cheek. John felt the pain disappear as she did so. With one sleeve she wiped the rest of the blood away. "There, good as new. Won''t even leave a scar behind. Oh, your nose is also hurt. Here, let me..." She once again raised a thumb to her mouth when the Earl stopped her.


    At some point, he had moved to stand by their side. "Use clean water at least," he said, face twisted with disgust.


    "It''s not like it''ll fester or anything, but fine." She said with a frown that turned into a smile as she looked back at John. "Back to you. How are you doing? And where is your mom? We met her only once before you were born. Is she waiting outside?"


    John paused. "She¡­ she died."


    She turned sad. "Oh¡­ I''m sorry. Don''t worry though, you''ll be safe with us. I mean, that''s what you came here for right?" John didn''t even finish nodding before she continued. "Great! Now wait here, I''ll get the maids to prepare you a room." Without waiting for him to speak, she strode out of the room, her blood-stained dress fluttering as she went.


    Hagen tried to warn her about it, but she had already closed the door. He ran a hand through his dark hair, seemingly unsure of what to do.


    John didn''t feel any less uncomfortable. Were things supposed to be that easy? For a moment he wondered if this could be a ploy to make him lower his guard but stopped due to how absurd it sounded. She alone could break him without breaking a sweat, why would they need the subterfuge?


    Maybe coming to Rochdale had been the right decision. Maybe his mother would still be alive if they had both come earlier. John didn''t want to follow that train of thought. "My lord, you know my father?" he asked the Earl, hoping to at least get some info.


    "Yes, and no need for the formalities. We met before we were even enrolled at the war academies, during a Phoenix-and-Dragon Contest. That''s what we call a competition between the war academies of both dukedoms. I visited the Phoenix Academy to watch the fights while Jonathan tagged along with a cousin of his."


    "My mother would tell me stories about him. She said that he is the best person that she ever met."


    Hagen showed the faintest of smiles. "She didn''t lie. I know no one more deserving of being called a noble than him. Sure, he has his faults, like being confident almost to the point of arrogance. But overall, he is a great man. Honorable to a fault and that''s part of the reason we haven''t heard much of him lately. Did your mother ever tell you about Grenfell?"


    John nodded. That''s where his mother was forced to make use of blood magic to escape.


    "After the massacre, things turned complicated at the Great Plains. Jonathan was captured two weeks after that. He didn''t try to fight. He said that your mother died shortly after that day. His father ¡ª your grandfather ¡ª didn''t believe that she died, but he couldn''t scour the whole region in search for her. He posted wanted signs, but that was it. As for your father, he remains imprisoned at Dragonblood Castle''s dungeons."


    "This whole time? It''s been years."


    "Yes. You have to understand the amount of pressure that the Duke received after Grenfell. Your mother singlehandedly maimed the earl and killed his son along with a squad of Paladins and Warlocks. This scared a lot of nobles and led the Duke to enact even harsher laws regarding slavery at the Great Plains. As for Jonathan, he didn''t kill anyone but he was involved nonetheless, which is why your grandfather imprisoned him."


    "I get that he was imprisoned because of the massacre, but what does that have to do with his honor?"


    "Because the Duke still hoped to strengthen his alliance with the Wynnes through a political marriage, which Jonathan will never accept. I think that even your grandfather realized that already, which is why he began to prep your uncle Richard to take up the throne. As for Jonathan, I doubt we''ll see him again. I''m sorry."


    John couldn''t help getting upset; not at Hagen, but at Jonathan. Instead of driven by a sense of honor, it rather felt as if his father was blinded by it. Maybe if he just accepted the damn marriage, he could already be out of the dungeons and free to look for his mother. How different would things be by then? He''d never know.


    Athalia returned to the study room accompanied by an older woman. "John, this is Meredy, she''ll guide you to your room."


    The woman''s face showed the signs of age, and her gray hair was mostly contained inside a frilly white hat. "Please follow me, Mr. John."


    John nodded and followed her through well decorated ¡ª and guarded ¡ª hallways and up a flight of stairs. They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door near the end of the hallway.


    "This is the room that lady Athalia picked for you," she said while handing him an iron key. "Inside you''ll find a bed, a wardrobe with simple garments, and a bath. I''d suggest you start by getting acquainted with the latter." She then turned around and walked down the hallway.


    John looked down at his dirty cloak and the sweaty clothes underneath it. Washing himself had been the least of his worries these past weeks. After taking a whiff of his tunic, he realized it was time to take care of it. He slid the key into the keyhole.

 50 Broken Back Into Shape

    Athalia paced back and forth the room, a large smile plastered on her face. While Hagen didn''t manage to calm her down, he did at least convince her to change the blood-stained dress.


    "Jonathan is a father, can you believe it? And we used to joke that he would become a celibate monk. Turns out he became a parent before us. And I didn''t notice it at first because of his skin, but that boy John takes a bit after his father. His eyes are green at the edges, and he''s so tall at his age, although his mother was also tall..."


    While his wife was ecstatic and chattered nonstop, Hagen remained much more quiet and pensive.


    "Why are you saying nothing?" she finally asked him.


    The earl took a deep breath and looked back at her. "He''s Jonathan''s son."


    "Yes, that''s what I''ve been saying this whole time while you''ve been standing there ruminating. You should be happy."


    "I am happy," he said honestly. Jonathan was his friend and, while there was nothing he could do about Dene''s death, he could at least take care of their child. Or at least he hoped so, and that uncertainty worried him. "Do you think other nobles will also be happy if they find out about him?"


    Athalia blinked, realizing what he was getting at. A bastard could create a lot of troubles simply by existing. If word got out that Jonathan had a son out of wedlock, then Damian Olsen would have a bit of a scandal on his hands. If that son happened to be half-bred, then the scandal would be much bigger considering the Holy Flame''s views on the southerners. The Duke would stop at nothing to have the boy killed.


    Duke Jorvan Olsandre, Hagen''s liege, would get involved, and he''d try to get hold of John exactly because of the harm he could do to the Olsen''s rule.


    "So what are you saying, you want to throw the boy out?"


    "No, obviously not. I''m saying that we can''t let anyone find out who he is. I say that we burn Jonathan''s letter and make sure that John tells no one who his father is. He did save Bellatrix and Nevil, so we could use that as an excuse to hire him to the castle staff."


    Athalia didn''t like his suggestion at all. "The staff? You mean to have him as a servant."


    "It''s the best way. We''ll be able to protect him. For all effects and purposes, he''ll be just a half-bred boy that we rewarded with a job."


    "Oh yes, he''ll be washing floors and emptying chamberpots, what an honor," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "He has noble blood, he deserves better than that, he deserves..." Athalia began to trail off, a pensive look on her face. She remained like that for a couple of moments before breaking out into an ominous smile. "He deserves a reward for saving Bellatrix and Nevil."


    Hagen didn''t understand what she was planning, but he knew it wouldn''t be good.


    She moved towards his desk and rummaged through the drawers, stopping only when she found the wooden box where he kept the measuring stones. With it in hands, she strode out of the room.


    Hagen sighed. "Dammit," he muttered before leaving after her.


    ***


    John dried himself with a white wool towel before wrapping it around his waist. On his neck, he had his mother''s necklace, a leather cord with a black and white coin for a pendant. It was the key to entering the most important part of the Secret Realm.


    He didn''t know what it was made from, only that it felt extremely smooth, so much so that the bathwater didn''t even bead on it. According to his mother, no one was supposed to know about the key''s meaning, but he''d rather not take any chances. As soon as possible he''d try to paint it over to try and hide it.


    The washroom had a large horizontal bathtub lined with a beige-colored ceramic. At the bottom of it was a metal drain stopper. John couldn''t see underneath it, but the presence of a stopper implied that there was some sort of plumbing in place, else the water would spill all over the floor.


    Other than the bathtub, there was also a cabinet and a door that led to the privy.


    A knock on the door caught John''s attention. He walked out of the washroom and into the bedroom.


    "John, are you there?" he heard Athalia''s voice from the other side.


    "Yes, just a moment."


    The clothes John came into the castle with were all crumpled at the washroom''s floor, while any spare one was outside with his horse. He could put the dirty clothes back on, but the old maid did tell him about clean garments inside the wardrobe.


    He put on a white tunic along with a pair of brown trousers, none fitting all that well. Not finding any footwear, he walked barefoot over the carpet towards the door and opened it, but not before hiding the necklace inside a pocket.


    Now wearing a green dress, Athalia held a wooden box on one hand and a cup of water on the other. Earl Hagen stood behind her, face stern.


    "May we come in?" she asked.


    John opened the door wider and moved out of the way. "Please," he answered. They walked into the room and he closed the door behind then.


    Athalia settled the items on a tea table and pulled herself a chair. Hagen followed suit, and John figured it would be too awkward to be the only one standing, so he also sat down.


    "Do you like your accommodations?" she asked.


    "Yes, my lady," he answered.


    "That''s good. Now for the reason why we''re here. I''m sure you understand that the matter of your ancestry is¡­ sensitive to say the least. As such, it''s very important that you tell no one about your parents, understand?"


    John nodded. She didn''t need to tell him considering how many times his mother already did the same.


    Athalia smiled in response. She next pointed at him, or more specifically, at his nose. "I take that it broke some time ago. It''s been healing well but, unfortunately, it''s not properly aligned."


    She was right. On the road, John had tried to put his broken nose back into place. This proved to be easier said than done though.


    "It will remain crooked if left like that. I can heal it, but first I''ll need to put it back in place. Are you okay with that?" Receiving a nod in confirmation, she leaned forward and placed both thumbs on his nose. "On three. One¡ª" she pushed.


    The crack of his nose breaking echoed through his head. The second time hurt even more than the first. John''s vision flashed white and he forced himself to remain upright. Blood started running down his nose when he finally felt something cold being pressed against his face.


    His vision returned and, with cloudy eyes, he found a glob of water floating against his face as Athalia worked her magic. The pain turned into a throbbing ache, then into a slight soreness, and finally disappeared in full. All in a matter of seconds.


    When Athalia finally felt satisfied with her work, the glob of water turned into a rivulet that flowed back into the cup. "All done," she spoke with a smile.

 51 Affinities

    John touched and pressed his nose. It felt good as new.


    "With that out of the way, let''s get to the reason why we''re here," Athalia said, her face turning serious.


    Hagen crossed his arms. "Yes, I''d also like to know what''s this about."


    "John, what you did today by saving Bellatrix and Nevil is something worthy of praise. You''ve shown bravery in the face of danger, determination to protect the weak, and the skill to stand tall against adversity."


    It took more than a little effort for John to keep a straight face. Sure, he prided himself on his fighting skills; his mother trained him a lot, after all. But Athalia spoke as if he was some sort of knight in shining armor. He knew himself well enough to find the idea ridiculous.


    Hagen frowned as he listened to his wife''s words.


    Athalia continued. "You''ve displayed the values of chivalry and, as such, I''d like to offer you the opportunity to become a squire."


    "A squire? Do you mean like a knight in training?"


    "Exactly so. You''ll have the opportunity to learn from a knight under our service and, if you impress them, you''ll be recommended for the Squire''s Tourney the year you reach 20 years of age."


    John drew a blank on the tourney''s name, but she said it as if it was something very important.


    Hagen seemed to know what it meant, and he didn''t like it. "My love, that''s exactly the opposite of what we should be doing. We should be hiding him, not attracting people''s attention to him."


    "Because of his parents? No one is even going to suspect he is their son unless he says so." She turned to John. "And you''re not going to do that, right?"


    John shook his head. He still didn''t know what that was all about, but he knew that telling people about his parents would be a bad idea.


    "See? No one will be the wiser."


    Hagen''s frow remained, but he didn''t try to argue any further.


    "I''m sorry, but what''s so important about this tourney?" John finally asked.


    "Have you heard of the war academies?" Athalia asked and John nodded in confirmation. "They offer the best education in the kingdom, and every person of note studied in one of them. While originally intended only for nobles, they''ve since expanded to accept people of lower classes through the Squire''s Tourney."


    "And they would allow someone like me to compete?" John asked, somewhat doubtful that they''d allow a southerner''s child to take part.


    "That''d be a first," Hagen commented, confirming John''s suspicions.


    Athalia didn''t let herself be discouraged. "Well, there''s a first time for everything. Besides, the sole requirement to compete is to be recommended by a knight, which you''ll be able to if you do well enough as a squire. And once enrolled, you''ll be able to learn everything from history to tactics, and will have the best resources to cultivate your body and your mind. For example, I notice that you''re also a Mage. How many spells do you know?"


    "Only a few shadow and fire spells," John answered truthfully. His mother taught some of the spells she knew but, as he was only a Mage, she wanted him to focus on improving his cultivation.


    "Spellcasting is much harder than cultivating the body. One of the reasons for that is the affinity. No matter how good someone is, they can''t use an element they aren''t attuned to. Have you ever tested your elemental affinities?"


    John shook his head.


    "We can do it right now if you want." Athalia picked up the wooden box and it made small clanking noises as she moved it. She undid a clasp and opened the lid to reveal its contents. Six colorful marbles were arranged as the vertices of a hexagon with a seventh marble at the center. Only the top half of each marble could be seen, as each of them was settled on a circular hole in the wood.


    "This is how affinities are tested. As long as the person is already a Mage, then they can infuse these stones with mana and they will light up in proportion to your affinity. For example, you said that your mother taught you shadow spells, so let''s start from there." She picked a black marble from the bottommost vertice and handed it to John. It felt smooth on his hands.


    John followed her instructions and tried to infuse mana into the marble. The process felt somewhat strange, as he had never done something of the sort without trying to cast a spell along with it. Finally, he managed to do it, and a strong light shone inside the dark marble.


    Athalia clapped and then ruffled the little hair that John had. "That''s very good, you have a great affinity with the shadow element. Did you ever try any other element?"


    "Only fire, but that one felt harder for me to cast."


    "It must mean that your affinity is lower with it. Let''s see." She placed the dark marble back in the box and handed him a red one from the top left vertice.


    John repeated the process with the red marble. It shone, though not nearly as strong as the black one.


    "Certainly not as strong, I''d say, so it''d be easier to stick to shadows. Let''s try lightning next." This time she chose the purple marble at the center of the hexagon. Rather than shining, it glimmered weakly in his hands.


    John felt somewhat disappointed at that. Fire could be quite destructive in combat, as showcased by Nevil. And while he''d never seen lightning spells, John wagered it could be just as powerful as fire. Alas, he wouldn''t be able to burn or smite his enemies; he''d have to settle for cutting and stabbing.


    At this point, John began to understand what the marbles'' colors and placement meant. He picked up the brown one from the bottom left to check his earth affinity. Maybe he''d be able to hurl rocks at his enemies. It glimmered as weakly as with the lightning. No rock hurling then.


    The gray stone for air at the top right similarly just glimmered.


    There were still two more elements to test when Athalia acted like the testing was already done. She placed the marbles back on their position and intended to close the box when John interrupted her. "What about water and light?"


    "They won''t work for you," Hagen stated as matter of fact. "They are opposite to elements you''re attuned to."


    "Let''s humor him at least." Athalia handed John the blue marble from the bottom right vertice.


    Try as he might, it showed no signs of change. From the way it remained inert, he''d think it was just a regular marble.


    "You have some affinity with fire, which conflicts with water." She took the blue marble from John''s hands and the red one from the box. The former shone with a strong light while the latter remained the same. "I''m attuned to the water element, which also means that I''m unable to cast a single fire spell."


    John nodded in understanding. He picked the last marble, a pure white one sitting at the topmost position. "So I guess that light will be the same?"


    "Yes," Athalia answered while putting the other marbles back in place.


    John repeated the process one last time, already expecting it to fail; instead, the marble lit up, maybe as strong as when he tested shadow.


    "... or maybe not," Athalia commented, somewhat surprised. "You''ve opposite elements, that''s rare."


    "Is that good?"


    "It''s good in the sense that you''re well attuned to two elements," Hagen explained. "But it does mean that you won''t be able to combine them, so it could be better. For example, my old teacher at Phoenix academy could combine fire and light to create a sort of focused beam that burned straight through armor. Your attunement to fire isn''t good enough for that."


    "Don''t listen to old Hagen, he''s a grouch." Athalia patted John''s head. "Not many people have opposite elements, so this means that you''re special. And in the academy, you''ll learn how to best make use of your elements."


    "Can I have some time to think about it?"


    "Of course, take as much time as you need. I know you must be tired, so we''ll let you rest." She picked up the box with the marbles and the cup of water. "If you need anything, don''t hesitate to ask one of the servants outside." With that, they both left, closing the door behind them.


    John had to admit that he felt tempted by Athalia''s offer, but he doubted it''d be as easy as she made it sound. Hagen, for that matter, seemed much more realistic than her, and he also didn''t treat him like a child.


    He''d have to think about it when he was better rested. John slumped into bed. In contrast to the soft mattress, the frame was well sturdy, offering not a single creak as John''s weight fell on it. It didn''t take long for him to fall asleep.

 52 The Garden

    John woke up under fine satin sheets in a comfortable mattress. After two weeks of sleeping on hard soil, the feeling was almost alien to him. His muscles were still sore from the long journey, but not as much as they had been the day before.


    He sat up and took note of the room. The walls were the same brown colored stone that seemed to be used everywhere else in this city. They were smooth, but not as perfectly cut as the ones used at the city wall, with various crevices wherever the stones met. Given how easy it would be to plaster these spaces to make the walls more uniform, John wondered if they weren''t actually an aesthetic choice.


    The ceiling was high, about two times John''s height, with no decorations.


    Instead of torches on iron brackets, like at the old baron''s castle, the room had various white marbles indented at the walls. Lightstones they were called, and they could be infused with mana to make them light up, just like the ones that measured his magical affinities the previous day. Unlike them, however, these ones shined with more strength and for much longer, something he realized the hard way when he was trying to sleep, and they continued to shine. Even now, some of them were still working.


    The floor was covered by a gray rug that extended to touch all four walls. In the wall across from the bed was the wooden door that led to the washroom and the privy. On the wall to the left was the door that led to the hallway and to the right was the balcony. Sunlight peeked into the room through tiny gaps between the balcony door and its frame.


    There was also a wardrobe, a mostly empty bookcase near the bed, and a tea table with three chairs where he, Hagen, and Athalia sat yesterday. This was obviously one of the guest rooms which is why it felt so comfortable. Adding the balcony and the washroom, it probably was as big as the old cottage.


    His mother wouldn''t have liked it; not the place itself, but the fact that there were so many people stronger than her so close by.


    Back in Greenflower, the only Paladin in town was the old baron. From what she would tell him, the old man had the strength of a Crusader at best, as she discovered after saving his life during a hunt. Although cultivation could delay it, the effects of time were relentless. With time, even a Paladin will eventually age to become as weak and frail as a child.


    Like her, John certainly would rather not have so many strong people nearby, but circumstances forced him to stay.


    John stood up from the bed and walked to the wardrobe. He forgot to take off the clothes before going to bed, so now they were all wrinkled. Back at the old cottage, he wouldn''t have cared about it, but in here he''d have to try and look presentable.


    He chose a pair of brown trousers practically identical to the ones he had before, along with a blue tunic. He still couldn''t find any footwear though. He could try the boots he came with but, besides being dirty, their high shaft made them better suited to wear with breeches, not trousers. So much for looking presentable.


    He looked through the bookcase next. Most of it stood empty, with only three books to be found by the lowest shelf. The first one chronicled the history of some noble house John never heard of. The first page already gave a reason for that: they were extinguished after attempting a rebellion against the king two centuries before John was even born.


    The next book delved into important battles through history, and it sounded much more interesting than a dead noble house from centuries ago. But it was the last book that picked his attention. It detailed various rules of etiquette and what was expected from people according to their social standing. It seemed to be the most boring of the three and yet, at the same time, it was knowledge that he had use for, considering where he found himself.


    He pulled out the book and sat on the bed when there was a knock on the door.


    "John, are you awake?" Athalia''s voice sounded from the other side.


    Even without reading the book, he knew that it would be bad form to leave her waiting, so he placed the book back and strode towards the door.


    "Good morning," she greeted him with a smile as soon as he opened the door. "Did you sleep well?"


    "Very much. I never knew beds could be so comfortable."


    Athalia beamed up. "That''s great. I told Meredy to pick a good room for you. Do you want to go for a walk? I want to show you the rest of the castle."


    "Sure, but there''s a problem." He looked down at his exposed feet over the carpet.


    "Oh yeah, and yesterday you were also barefoot. I''ll ask Meredy to bring shoes to your room. For now, though, don''t worry about it. No one will dare to talk about it with me by your side."


    John shrugged and followed her. Out in the hallway, the stone floor felt cold against his soles. The hallway was mostly empty, with only one or other servants walking around.


    They went down a flight of stairs guarded by pairs of spearmen both at the top and bottom, and John was surprised by the contrast. While the floor above was mostly empty, this one had maids and other servants going back and forth. Most of them carried trays of food for the guests, but some also carried clothes to be washed.


    "We''re hosting a lot of important guests these last few days, so things have been more hectic than usual. Right now, Hagen is discussing with those currently here. He''ll likely be busy for the rest of the day."


    John got curious about that. He wondered if it had anything to do with the tensions with the neighboring Earl, so he decided to probe about it. "How long has it been like this?"


    "Two months I''d say. It''s all because of that horrible Rass Skanler," she said with a frown that she quickly tried to hide. "But let''s not talk about these unpleasantries. Come, I want to show you the rest of the castle."


    They descended to the base floor and came to a wide hallway. Heading to the right would lead to the throne room and the entrance. John, Bella, and Nevil passed by it while being escorted by the guards yesterday. Most of the servants were moving to and fro the left side, which probably led to the kitchen.


    Thankfully, that was the first stop at Athalia''s tour of the castle. The place was chaotic, to say the least. Cooks in white aprons milled about, rushing to get the meals ready. Maids formed a line by the door, waiting for the meals they had to deliver.


    Athalia asked John to wait by the side where he wouldn''t get in anyone''s way. She then picked up a tray and moved into the kitchen, weaving through the place and picking up food as she went, all with an ease that amazed John. By the way that the staff continued working despite her moving around them, John realized that it wasn''t her first time doing such a thing.


    She returned to him with a food-stacked tray. John saw strips of bacon, crispy toasts, cubes of cheese, juicy sausages, and much more. It was like she wanted him to have a piece of everything on the menu. She had to know that was too much; even so, Athalia left again after handing John the food, this time in search of as many sweets as she could find.


    "That''s a lot of food," John commented after she returned. Hopefully, she wouldn''t leave again to grab even more.


    Athalia pinched his cheek. "Of course, you need to eat a lot to keep growing healthy and strong."


    Being treated like a child still annoyed him somewhat, but John didn''t try to argue. He instead focused on filling his empty stomach. It all looked delicious, much better than anything he could cook himself. Even something as simple as a strip of bacon tasted unimaginably good.


    Next, they left through the kitchen''s back door and into the grassy courtyard. They walked towards the castle walls until finally reaching a small stone building by the wall''s foot. Immediately beyond the threshold, a single white and golden carpet ran towards an altar at the back. The carpet was flanked by two pairs of wooden pews. Large windows of stained glass occupied most of the side walls.


    Painted on the back wall, behind the altar, was a featureless woman wearing a simple white dress. In front of her chest, she held a golden sunburst similar to the one hanging from Athalia''s neck. The place was no doubt one of worship.


    "Do you know of Alella?" Athalia asked.


    "Only the name," John answered. He had heard the name being uttered every once in a while in town, mostly by farmers. Back on Earth, he and his brother grew up in a catholic orphanage, but he was never one to care for religion.


    After reincarnating though, he didn''t know how to feel about it. On one hand, the experience disproved everything he thought he knew about life and death, and it was something that science was unable to explain.


    On the other hand, meeting God ¡ª no, a god ¡ª somehow felt¡­ earthly. It didn''t feel like a transcendent experience. Somehow, by having confirmation of their existence, the idea of gods felt less divine to him.


    After living in this new world where magic was commonplace, he knew very well why. By his side stood a woman with maybe as much muscle mass as he, a child, had, yet she was capable of moving faster than a cheetah and probably of breaking rocks with her bare hands. Not only that, but she could also instantly heal wounds using water while others had fire and lighting at their fingertips.


    All of this should be impossible back on Earth. Not in this world though. In this world, all of that was possible thanks to mana and thanks to cultivation. The more you cultivate, the more mana you can use, and the stronger you are. This begged the question: How far can one cultivate? Far enough to become a god? What if the gods were all just people who cultivated to reach that point?


    John lost more than a few nights of sleep on these questions. He never managed to come up with an answer. So instead, he chose to focus on the fact that none of these gods and their religions had a problem with him; well, only the Holy Flame, but thankfully they didn''t seem to hold any power around these parts. Better to focus on real-life rather than something that''s unlikely to ever affect him again.


    "Alella is the goddess that I, and many more follow. She is the goddess of harvest, childbirth, and healing. I built this shrine is Her honor. Here, let me show you." Athalia first settled the two trays of food on one of the pews before guiding John to the altar near the back wall. The altar, a short white pillar, reached up to John''s chest. Atop of it, there was a piece of white marble in the shape of a long bone with an end thicker than the other.


    Its shape looked somewhat familiar to John, but he couldn''t point out exactly what it was.


    "Alella created all life. First, the plants, which she used to create The Garden. The plants were followed by the animals. When both were done, it came time for her greatest creation: us humans..."


    The whole story felt way too familiar to the one about the Garden of Eden, with some minor differences. For example, there was the goddess Alella instead of God. Instead of Adam and Eve, there was Rolan and Thalia. And instead of creating the first woman from a rib, Alella used Rolan''s baculum, and John finally realized what that bone on the altar was.


    His mother didn''t teach him only how to hunt, but also how to make use of the animals'' parts. This involved a lot of breaking the prey apart with the least amount of damage to the fur, meat, tendons, and bones. The baculum in particular was exclusive to male animals as it connected to the base of the penis or, as Athalia called it, the "male organ."


    At first, John considered the whole idea ridiculous. He only held off from laughing in respect to Athalia, who seemed to believe it wholeheartedly. But the more he thought about it, the less ridiculous it sounded.


    Sure, John still believed none of it, but the whole idea could be attributed to humans trying to come up with answers to something that they couldn''t explain. It started making sense when seen from this point of view; ancient humans in this world noticed the baculum on animals and the lack of it on themselves, so they came up with a religious reason for it. John could understand that.


    Besides, of all religious beliefs he knew about, this one wouldn''t even top the list of weirdest ones.


    "That''s interesting," John commented. "Did you come here to pray then?"


    Athalia shook her head lightly. "Not today. I pray to Alella every night, usually by the bed before going to sleep. Here, I only come at times of most need." She looked straight at John. "Mourning for example. I found out that it''s never good to keep such things to oneself. Even the strongest person can''t be strong all the time."


    John finally understood why she brought him here. "Thanks, and I do mean for everything. Thanks for not chasing me away, thanks for taking me in, and thanks for just caring." He looked away. "It does hurt when I think about her death¡­ but my mother wouldn''t want me to waste time grieving. She would want me to focus on cultivating to get stronger and push everything else to the back of my mind."


    "That sounds harsh."


    "She certainly was." John forced out a wry smile. "One time when we were out hunting, I didn''t pay attention and a jumping adder bit me right in the thigh. She made me walk all the way back to find the town healer. It took me two hours. By the end of it, my leg was so swollen that I had to cut open my breeches to take it off, and I was dragging my leg so much that it couldn''t even be called a limp anymore."


    The smile faded away as he pursed his lips. "But I knew that was her way of showing how much she cared. Call it tough love if you will. My mother wanted to make sure that I was capable of surviving on my own. If not for her harsh training to make me stronger, I probably would''ve died long before meeting you. And if she hadn''t been strong herself, then she may have died even further back. We can''t afford to be weak. Not now, not ever."


    Athalia remained silent for an uncomfortably long time before sighing. John wasn''t sure of what he saw in her eyes. Sadness? Concern? Pity? ???That isn''t a healthy way to live," she finally spoke.


    John shrugged. "It''s the only way I know."


    "... very well." She walked away from the altar and towards the entrance. "Come, it''s time to meet the knight you''ll be squiring to."

 53 Squire

    The change from grass to earth signaled that they had entered the training grounds, occupying the northern part of the courtyard. Men and women wielded wooden weapons, either against training dummies on the sides, or each other inside dueling rings.


    Athalia guided John towards a woman in full plate armor barking orders at all the guards training. "Nysah, stop hacking away, you''re wielding a sword, not a woodman''s axe. Harden, move your feet, I''ve seen trees move more than you. Rud, great work with that shield; the enemy will have no difficulty getting a sword past it and into your gut. Raise that fucking shield! Nysah, what did I just tell you about the sword? It has a pointy end for a reason, use it!"


    The woman was relentless, pointing out the guards'' errors left and right. Only after noticing Athalia approaching did she pause, though her eyes continued wandering across the courtyard, no doubt taking notes of more errors to correct. "Lady Athalia, how may I be of service?"


    Athalia placed a hand on John''s shoulder. "Dame Marleya, let me introduce you to John, the boy I told you about."


    The woman looked at John, her face a perpetual frown. She looked him up and down as if to measure him; not in a disrespectful manner, and he had the impression that she did it more out of habit than anything else. "So you''re the one who saved Semar''s daughter and Cranns son. You have my thanks for that. They''re good kids, although very foolish for going out without an escort."


    Marleya had sharp facial features. Her chestnut hair was sheared at the sides and braided into a ponytail at the top. The full plate armor that she wore clanked heavily as she moved and John could only imagine how much it weighed. Oh her hip she carried a sheathed sword.


    "Yes, they are, though that''s not why I''ve come to you today. John here displayed great martial prowess and I believe that, with your guidance, he may improve even further."


    "My lady would like to train him to become part of the town''s guard? That''s feasible. It''ll require a lot of discipline and dedication on his part. When he becomes of age we''ll evaluate how well he''s cut for it."


    "That''s true, but I know that most of the guard''s training is done by the sergeants. I would prefer for you to be fully in charge of his training. You''re still in need of a squire, correct?"


    Marleya raised an eyebrow. "I have no need for a squire, so I wouldn''t say that I''m in need of one."


    "Still, I ask that you consider it. Do this for me and we''ll be even. Besides, you can only benefit from this arrangement. I freed you from a terrible squire in favor of a much better one."


    "Very well. For you, my lady, I''ll give the boy a chance." She turned to John. "I take it that you have at least some knowledge about how to fight. What weapon do you use?"


    "Mostly the twin short swords," John answered.


    "Not very common around these parts, so I take that you learned it from your southern side, most likely your mother. The Deserts were always lacking in terms of armorsmithing, so most tribes developed their fighting styles around being quick on their feet while striking fast and hard. Effective in duels, although a single mistake is all that it takes for a fatal wound. It relies a lot on movement, so it isn''t as effective in an actual battlefield or closed spaces."


    John was surprised by how much she seemed to know about the tribes.


    Reading his expression, Marleya let out a low chuckle without ever breaking her frown. "Don''t look so surprised, it always pays to know how others fight." She walked to the weapons rack and returned with a quarterstaff. She placed both hands on its middle section and snapped it as if it were a twig. "Give me a quick demonstration of what you can do," she said, throwing both halves to John.


    The broken pieces of wood weren''t well balanced like real swords, but they would have to do.


    The knight stood in place with her sword, a steely white razor, drawn. "Don''t worry, I''ll use the dull side of the sword."


    That was all well and good as long as she didn''t attack for real. John had no illusion that, even if it were a blunt piece of wood, a casual swipe of hers could bisect him.


    With that knowledge in mind, he cautiously moved in closer. She had the reach advantage, so just before getting into her striking range, he quickly stepped forward, thrusting at her chest.


    Marleya only moved her arm, calmly swiping his weapon away. John pivoted on the ball of his foot and struck again with both weapons, and they banged loudly against the side of her sword.


    "That''s enough." Marleya sheathed her sword. "Not bad," she commented.


    "I told you so." Athalia appeared by John''s side. "And he''s already a seventh level Fighter at his age."


    "Levels mean very little at that stage, but I see your point." She turned to John. "You claimed to mostly use the twin short swords, so what other weapons do you use?"


    "The longsword and the bow and arrows."


    "The longsword is a good weapon. Strong, versatile, has a good reach. A noble weapon. As for the bow and arrows, leave that for when you''re out hunting. Only a coward doesn''t look into their opponent''s eyes."


    John wasn''t about to disagree with her, so he said nothing.


    "Now," she continued, "Let''s see how you do against another Fighter." She looked at the guards by the training dummies and yelled, "Harden, come here!"


    A dark-haired Fighter flinched midway into slashing at the dummy. He quickly scurried towards Marleya and stopped in front of her. "Dame, my lady," he greeted.


    "Harden, you''ve been fighting that dummy too long. It''s time for you to have a real duel, and that''s where John here comes in."


    Harden was in his early twenties, with broad shoulders and a small height advantage on John. "You want me to fight him?" he asked.


    "Yes, are you also slow in the head? Now get on with it, and remember what I said about moving your feet." With that, Marleya stepped away along with Athalia. Through the soles of his feet, John felt the earth trembling slightly with each step the heavily armored knight took.


    The man clutched his wooden sword in both hands and cautiously approached John. His larger body painted an intimidating figure, but, as Marleya mentioned, something was off about the way he moved. Just as he came into striking range, his feet stopped, and only then did he thrust forward. This effectively meant that he only used part of his reach.


    Rather than dodging, John leaned back and the sword''s tip stopped inches from his chest. Aiming at his opponent''s overextended arm, he then struck hard against the man''s wrist.


    "Ouch," Harden cried out, quickly pulling back his arm, and only then stepping back. He didn''t seem to know how to move his body as a whole.


    Taking advantage of that fact, John went on the initiative and attacked.


    At first, Harden managed to mount up a good defense, but as the attacks continued and he was forced to the back foot, his lack of coordination started to show.


    John landed hits against his hip, elbow, shoulder, then elbow again. As Harden struggled to maintain his defense, John finally struck low against his opponent''s knee. It buckled under the blow, and John followed up with a light tap against the side of his head. The fight was already over, no need to go too far.


    Athalia started clapping as the combat came to an end.


    "That''s good enough," Marleya came to their side and helped Harden get back to his feet. "I want you to remember this the next time you''re going against that fighting dummy," she told him. "A real opponent won''t stay in place waiting for you to hit them. Now, take the rest of the day off."


    Harden nodded, saluted all three of them, and hobbled away.


    "See?" Athalia asked with a proud smile. "I told you he was good. And he even held himself back when the outcome was already decided. Jacke would have, at least, knocked a couple of Harden''s teeth away."


    "True," Marleya agreed. "Still, being a squire involves more than just fighting."


    "I know, and it won''t be a problem, right John?"


    John nodded. He was already aware that most of his duties will revolve around taking care of his knight''s needs. It didn''t really matter to him as long as he could improve himself. "Just one question, who is Jacke?"


    "Jacke Tascer was Marleya''s previous squire," Athalia responded. "And a terrible one might I add. Not only did he refuse to do any of the chores expected of him, but he also complained whenever he got hurt during a spar. Unfortunately, the Tascers are a noble house, and cutting ties with the boy could be seen as an insult."


    "That''s where I asked for my lady''s assistance and she talked things over with the boy''s father," Marleya added. "Speaking of which, I doubt he''ll take well to me having a new squire. What if he tries to cause trouble for John?"


    "I''ll like to see him try anything in my husband''s city. Other than sulking, the most he can do is requesting a duel." She smiled deviously and placed a hand on John''s shoulder. "No need to hold back in that case John. I want you to destroy that little shit."


    Her words surprised John. So she wasn''t all nice after all.


    "Well, in that case, John..." Marleya trailed off.


    "Yao."


    "Right. John Yao, I accept you as my squire. I want you back here tomorrow at first light to receive your duties. You''re free to do what you want for the rest of the day." After saying that, she gave a quick bow of the head to Athalia and moved back to supervising the various men and women training.


    "Congratulations," Athalia said while patting John''s head. "Now, come. I want to show you the rest of the castle and we also must find a good magic teacher for you."


    John honestly would prefer to start training with Marleya, but he couldn''t really refuse, so he followed Athalia.

 54 Fool

    With a heave, John lifted the weighty sword. Marleya, a Paladin, wielded it as if it were, well, her sword. Simply lifting it was already a struggle for him. He gripped the handle with both hands and settled the weapon atop the table as gently as he could manage. The furniture creaked due to the large weight.


    Besides the wooden table at its center, the room also had an armor stand at the corner where Marleya''s armor stood; a rare sight considering how much she preferred to wear it when outside. There were no windows at the room, the single light source coming from a lonely lightstone at the ceiling. A simple bed occupied the corner opposite to the armor stand, with a copper medal at the nightstand. Engraved in the metal were the words, "Marleya Bryne, 5th place at her 6th year''s King''s Tourney, 7,839 AU."


    That was it for the room''s furniture. Marleya certainly had the coin, and status, to get better accommodations, but she preferred practicality above all else. The only thing that she saw as a luxury was the room''s soundproofing, but John considered it a must given how near to the training grounds her room was. Most of her spendings went towards her and her horse''s equipment.


    While she paid for it, as her squire, John was the one responsible for the actual busywork. Every day he oiled her sword, her armor, and tidied her room. Those were his daily tasks as a squire. When outside, he''d also be expected to feed the horses and prepare their food, but here in the castle, the stablehands and kitchen staff took care of it.


    After settling the sword on the table, he drenched a piece of cloth on oil and started rubbing the blade''s steely white length. Done with one side, he then raised it from the handle, keeping the tip against the table, and rotated it to work on the other side. The whole process felt tedious, and he had to pay attention to not brush against the blade''s edge by accident. That razor would slice through his hand as if it were butter.


    Done with the sword, he sheathed and placed the weapon besides the armor, where it originally was. After making sure that everything was in order, he opened the door, the training grounds'' noise reaching him as soon as he did so.


    The training grounds looked as well as any other day. Men and women tested their skills either against one another or the training dummies. Most of them were Crusaders already, but there were some exceptions such as Harden, a tenth level Fighter.


    Instead of Marleya overseeing the training, her role was being half-heartedly performed by a balding man wearing the town''s guard armor. Or rather, considering that he was one of the sergeants, she did his work every once in a while. John didn''t know why she did so, but he knew that none of the sergeants had any problem with her doing their work for them.


    He walked to the weapon rack, grabbed a wooden sword, and looked for another Fighter to spar with. Most of those present were commoners, and whatever distaste they could have had for his ancestry was offset by a sense of camaraderie for being Marleya''s squire.


    Whenever present, she worked them all to the bone. As her squire, that was particularly true to him, so they all sympathized. She didn''t train John as hard as his own mother did, but she did work him for longer. While a wrong move against his mother often resulted in a bruise, a wrong move against Marleya resulted in him repeating it until he got it right.


    Harden, John''s first choice for a sparring partner, was currently being trounced by Romarn, an even larger man wielding a greatsword. Rud seemed available, but he wouldn''t accept sparring again after John hit him in the head the other day. In John''s defense, Marleya did warn the man to raise the shield


    "Looking for a partner?" Neina asked, taking a break from beating on the training dummy.


    She had long black hair held in place by a blue headband and wore the same grey armor as everyone else.


    "Sure," John answered with a nod. "Know anyone I can spar with?"


    Neina raised an eyebrow. "Uhh, me?"


    "Oh, in that case, I''d rather go against the training dummy," John teased. "It can make me sweat, at least."


    She laughed. "Big talk for the Barefoot Squire," she said, mentioning how John became known after his first appearance at the training grounds a week ago. John didn''t care for the nickname, but figured that it was better than being called a¡ª


    "Half-bred, stop bothering the lady," spoke an unpleasant voice.


    John didn''t even need to turn to know who it was. "Good morning, Jacke. I was just about to ask Neina to spar with me. Perhaps you''d like to take her place instead so we can have a rematch."


    Jacke strutted to get by Neina''s side. "As if I''d waste my time fighting a cheating savage such as yourself." He dismissively waved a hand at John as a master would do to a slave. He looked nothing like he had been writhing on the dirt after John beat him to a pulp a few days back.


    As Marleya predicted, her former squire didn''t like being substituted by a "dirty, uncultured, half-bred," as he put it. He strode into the training grounds with his blonde hair, blue eyes, and extremely punchable face, accompanied by bodyguards and demanding a duel to repair his injured honor. His honor was the least of his injuries after John was done with him.


    Jacke''s ego hardly translated into fighting prowess, and John literally ran circles around the arrogant fool. John''s wooden swords connected to the man''s ribs, shoulder, arms, knee, and lastly mouth when he finally fell to the ground. His bodyguards didn''t like it one bit and looked ready to jump on John. Marleya drew her sword and they changed their minds real fast, instead choosing to carry Jacke away.


    She didn''t forget to punish John for striking an opponent while they were down, but he found it a worthy tradeoff for making sure that the noble wouldn''t bother him again. He didn''t count on the man''s complete lack of shame.


    Jacke claimed that he would''ve won if not for John hitting him while he was down. Anyone with half-a-brain who watched the duel knew that it was already over after the first clash of weapons, and yet the noble stuck to his story. The man was a month short of nineteen years old, still a Fighter despite being a noble, and yet he found no better use of his time other than pestering John.


    John would love for another duel; not in hopes of sending him away, John already gave up on that, but for the pleasure of beating him up once again. Unfortunately, commoners couldn''t challenge nobles to a duel, and Jacke learned his lesson about trying to duel John.


    "Now, be a good half-bred and bugger off," Jacke said while shooing John off. "Your better has something very important to talk about with this..." He looked Neina up and down. "...beautiful lady."


    Neina''s lips twitched as she forced herself not to snap back at the noble. "I''m deeply sorry milord, but I need to focus on my training if I hope to make it into the town''s guard."


    "Forget about it, that leads nowhere," he said without a care for his volume or the angry gazes that it drew. "If you come with me, I promise you''ll be earning double of however much you''d be earning from this. Besides, I''ll become even more famous after enrolling at the academy and winning the King''s Tourney. When that comes to be, there''ll be no better job than working under me." He licked his lips.


    Whatever restraint Neina had seemed ready to fail when Marleya finally arrived, marching into the place. "My lord, I''d ask that you don''t get in the way of their training."


    Jacke straightened up, trying to look like he hadn''t been caught red-handed. "Dame Marleya, I was simply discussing a job opportunity with miss Ina." The idiot didn''t even know her name.


    Marleya nodded along with his words. "That sounds marvelous, I''m sure that my lord''s parents and bride must be thrilled about you going around propositioning women again. Perhaps I should tell them the next time we meet."


    "T-That won''t be necessary, I''m sorry miss Ina," he said before scuttling off with a tail between his legs.


    "I wish I was able to make him run away like that," John commented.


    "Same," Neina said before remembering the knight standing by their side. "I-I mean¡ª"


    "I am of the same mind. He''s mostly harmless, as John can attest to, but by Alella is he annoying. Now, I need to talk to my squire and you should be focusing on improving that sword arm of yours."


    "Yes, of course." Neina gave a quick bow and went looking for another sparring partner on the other side of the training grounds.


    "Thanks for helping with Jacke," John said. "Where were you by the way?"


    "In a meeting with lord Hagen and lady Athalia. Did you finish your tasks?" Receiving a nod in response, she then continued. "Good. You''ve been with me for a week now, so I figured it''s time to get you some proper equipment."

 55 Armor

    "It''s too cumbersome," John noted as he moved around the smithy. Over a blue gambeson, he had a rippled steel cuirass, while a closed helmet narrowed his field of view and made it harder to breathe. Pauldrons, rerebraces, vambraces, and finally gauntlets weighed down his arms. Messing with his steps, he had even more bluish plates covering his legs, with only the boots being made of darkened leather.


    "It''s protective," Marleya corrected. She stood beside the armorer, a wizened man wearing a leather apron and holding a hammer.


    "I will need protection with how many hits I''ll be receiving," he grumbled. The cuirass was along with his center of mass, so it wasn''t as bad, but the plate over his arms and legs threw off his rhythm.


    "You''ll get used to it. Besides, you''re supposed to let the armor handle some of the attacks instead of pivoting and twisting to avoid them. You''re a warrior, not a dancer."


    On the one hand, he had to agree with her. There was a reason why better-equipped armies often won battles. On the other hand, he grew up learning how to fight from his mother, and her teachings prioritized agility. She would disdain anything that weighed her down.


    John''s reasons weren''t just sentimental, but also practical. In combat, he reacted through muscle memory more than anything else. It could take years until he got used to the added weight of the armor.


    "How about just the gambeson?" he suggested. "It weighs as much as my leather armor and I feel like it will be easier for me to get used to it."


    "It weighs as much as your leather and it protects just as much. That gambeson is too thin to protect anything, and is mostly there as padding for the armor."


    John finally couldn''t take it anymore and removed the helmet, his face glistening with sweat. The smithy was already hot by itself, and it felt even worse inside the armor. "Let''s get a thicker one then. I can''t fight anyone if I''m already struggling against my own armor."


    "John," she said with a sigh. "You need to remember why you''re squiring in the first place. Lady Athalia wishes for you to take part in the Squire''s Tourney and, in there, you won''t be going against badly equipped bandits nor against farmhands still learning how to swing a sword. You''ll be going against well-trained warriors donning armor that will stop all of your blows."


    "Every armor has gaps," he said, removing the gauntlets and hooking two fingers under the gorget to prove his point.


    "And while you try to hit those, your opponents will be free to try and hit any part of your body. Rippled steel slices through leather very easily, trust me."


    "Oh, I trust you, that''s why I won''t stand in place waiting for the attack." John removed all plates on one arm and began working on the other one. "Let''s meet halfway, then. I''ll wear the gambeson, the cuirass, and even the helmet. Not this one though."


    He looked around the smithy. The forge occupied most of one of the walls, it''s fire painting the surroundings in shades of orange. The anvil sat at the center of the room beside the slack tub filled with water. The windows were placed up high, almost touching the ceiling to help ventilate the room. Various unfinished pieces of armor were placed around the shop, and John set his sights on a helmet with a T shaped opening for the eyes and mouth.


    "How about that one?" he asked, pointing at the helmet.


    Marleya brought a hand to her forehead in frustration. Like a parent would do to a child, it was as if she wanted him to do it because she said so. It probably wasn''t far from the truth with her being a knight accustomed to discipline and subordinates following her orders. Having served as a soldier, John could understand the feeling.


    Unfortunately for her, John had Athalia''s support, so she couldn''t order him as she saw fit. If he really pressed on it, he could even get out of doing all the tasks that were required from him as a squire. He didn''t do it out of respect for her, especially given how the knight was training him essentially for free.


    "You''re gonna be an even bigger headache than Jacke," she grumbled. "Fine, let''s get this over with. We''ll only take the cuirass and a barbute," she told the armorer.


    "Yes, Dame," the man responded. He grabbed the helmet that John pointed at. "You can take the cuirass right now, but this is the only barbute I have on hand, and it''s made of regular steel. I can have one made of rippled steel delivered to the castle by the end of the week."


    "That''s fine." She grabbed her coin pouch to pay the man while John worked on unfastening the plates over his legs.


    When they walked out from the smithy and into the busy streets, John only had the gambeson and cuirass in terms of armor. "So, where are we going now?" he asked.


    "Back to the tailor," she answered without looking at him. "If you won''t dress like a proper warrior, then I''ll make some adjustments to your gambeson at least. The arms will need to be thicker, and the gambeson will need to be made longer to cover your thighs."


    He nodded. "I''m sorry for not doing as you told, but I don''t want to throw away everything that I already know." She didn''t speak. "Say, did you really mean it when you said that I''m a bigger headache than Jacke?"


    "... yes, I did. Don''t get me wrong, you''re a much better person than he''ll ever be, though that''s not saying much. Maybe it was cowardice, maybe something else, but when I told him to do something, he never argued back. The thing is that I couldn''t watch over him all day long, and it was during these times that he either caused trouble or lazed off."


    John followed her as she turned right towards the main street, passerby giving the Paladin a wide berth. "So I''m more headstrong than that worm. I''d say that''s a worthy tradeoff for me being so much better than him."


    "That remains to be seen. Talent is useless without dedication. Jacke wasn''t particularly bad when he was around your age, and I accepted him as a squire. Then he grew up, and his second head grew with him. Now he''s more interested in chasing skirts than anything else." She shook her head, and her braided ponytail waggled left and right. "Also, do yourself a favor and don''t talk about being better than people around Lady Athalia. Alella preaches that no one is better than anyone else, and the Lady is a firm believer."


    "Understood, it''s bad manners to talk about religion."


    Marleya snickered. "Not bad manners, just a waste of time. If there really was anyone up there, then they would simply come down and tell us what to do."


    "I take it that''s another subject to avoid around her."


    Marleya''s smile grew wider. "Exactly."


    The number of people walking around increased as they approached the main street. When they finally reached it, the two came across some sort of commotion to their left. At first, John thought it to be a pickpocket, but the crowd watching was smiling while the few children looked amazed. The reason appeared immediately after, as a miniature green dragon soared to the sky, did a loop in mid-air, and dived back towards the crowd.


    A little girl atop her father''s shoulder shrieked as the creature flew straight at her only to change course an instant before crashing.


    "It''s not real," Marleya commented, taking John out from his daze.


    "W-what?" he stuttered, only then noticing his slack jaw.


    "It''s an illusion created from light magic. A street performer, most likely."


    "But it looks so real," he tried to argue.


    She chuckled. "To you, maybe, and only because it''s darting around so you can''t quite focus on it. If it weren''t moving, then you would be able to see that it''s slightly translucent. I''m a Paladin, so it''s easier for me to notice it, while an Archmage would notice specks of mana moving. Sorry to disappoint you, but a real dragon would have everyone fleeing in panic as it set buildings on fire and ate people."


    John looked back to the dragon as it flew through the crowd. He''d have to take Marleya''s word as he couldn''t find any flaw in the illusion.


    "You''ll be learning how to do it soon. Lady Athalia told me that you met your spell casting teachers."


    "Zandren and Ruban," he said. "I''ll start my studies tonight. Loondays, Vanisdays, and Mensdays will be reserved for shadow spells with Zandren, while Ruban will teach me light spells at Telsdays, Kirsdays, and Diusdays. Soldays I''ll rest."

 56 Words

    John and Marleya left the street performance behind and headed for the tailor. Arriving there, they made a custom order for John''s gambeson as well as a couple of spare ones. After doing so they returned to the main street and made their way back to the castle.


    As they approached the earl''s home, the buildings gradually became more imposing and well decorated, while people were more well dressed. Linen and wool clothes gave way to silk adorned with gold. Gray and brown turned into bright and rich colors. Rochdale didn''t have a clear line dividing the rich part of the city from the rest, but the lower class naturally knew not to wander into these parts.


    Most imposing of all, the castle walls soon appeared in the distance.


    "You''ll be starting your spell lessons tonight, so you can take this afternoon to rest," Marleya spoke as they approached the castle.


    "Are you sure?" John asked. "I thought you''d want me to focus on my swordsmanship."


    She shook her head. "I want you to do well at the tourney, and the sword is only one of the tools available to you. In single combat, being a Mage doesn''t matter all that much. Somewhat quicker reflexes are good, but nothing compared to the benefits of being an Archmage. Being able to instantly cast weaker spells will make you the absolute favorite to win the tourney."


    John was skeptical. "Aren''t you exaggerating a bit? I mean, there have to be other nobles who also dual cultivate."


    "Sure, but most nobles look down on being a squire as well as the squire''s tourney. Jacke is an exception in this case. More often than not, squires are all commoners who focus on training their bodies as it''s easier than spellcasting. Me, for example. I was born a commoner and never learned how to cast spells. You''re an exception in more ways than one."


    The two reached the castle gates, and it was much more heavily guarded than the entrance to the city. A full score of heavily armored men and women stood at the gates. Archers atop the battlements watched the distance for any sign of trouble.


    John wasn''t surprised by the high number of guards considering that the earl lived here. According to Marleya, though, the real reason for the large number of guards was the number of noble guests. "Normally we only have half that number of guards on duty," she told him.


    They both passed through the gates and reached the courtyard where Marleya came to a stop. "Don''t forget what I said about the tourney. If you manage to get there as both a Crusader and an Archmage, then your victory will be a given. I know that you''re a seventh level Fighter, but how are you doing as a Mage?"


    "I''m at the third level, so not as well," John answered.


    "First you tell me to focus on less on my swordsmanship, then for us to spend less time together. Are you trying to get rid of me already?" John asked only half-jokingly.


    "Not yet," she answered with a smirk. "You''re already a good swordsman. I wanted the extra time to get you used to the heavy armor, but now it seems we won''t be needing it anymore." Marleya didn''t hide her discontentment at that.


    John gave her a sheepish smile.


    "Regardless, it''s your choice and I won''t force you. Don''t forget though, you mustn''t slack off in your training. The odds will already be stacked against you from the start, and just doing well doesn''t mean that you''ll be able to enroll."


    "Because I''m a half-bred."


    Marleya nodded. "There are no written rules saying you can''t enroll, but yes. Ultimately, the decision falls to Duke Olsandre. In that sense, the Phoenix Academy might be your best chance." After saying her piece, she turned to the training grounds and left.


    John considered her words. So regardless of his performance, there was still a chance of being refused outright. ''Fucking great.''


    With that knowledge in mind, he headed to the kitchen for lunch before returning to his room. Wanting to start his spell lessons fresh, he took a nap and waited for sunset when he then left for the castle''s library.


    Ruban Brewlan, his light element tutor, was a frail-looking man with a hunched back and a headful of white hair. He wore a simple robe of gray linen without any expensive accessory that would give away his status as a Warlock.


    John waited as the older man walked to his table at a glacial pace and finally sat down. "Good evening," he greeted his tutor.


    "Yes, good evening. I bet you young man can''t wait to start casting spells correctly?" He didn''t wait for an answer. "Unfortunately, spells require a lot of time dedicated to studying the proper words and pronunciations. Even something as simple as an illusion requires days of studying."


    John nodded along, already aware of all of it from his mother''s teachings.


    "Now, let''s start with a Mage Light, the simplest of all light spells." Ruban produced a corked ink bottle, a quill, and a roll of parchment from inside his robe''s sleeves. He handed it all to John. "Write down the words as I dictate them." He then proceeded to speak a series of seemingly nonsensical words.


    While John couldn''t tell the meaning of a single one of these words, he did manage to identify some consistencies between them. For starters, every syllable was composed of a single consonant followed by a single vowel. This contrasted with the words for shadow spells where the syllables didn''t seem to follow the same rule.


    Beyond that, the words for shadow spells contained a lot of Z''s, S''s, and U''s, whereas light spells had a lot of L''s, A''s, and E¡ª


    "Wrong," Ruban commented after finishing his dictation and inspecting what John wrote. "Instead of E''s, light spells use the letter ?." He waved a finger and the letter appeared floating in the air. "It makes no difference for now, but Archmage spells will take it into account. Write it again. Tonight we''ll concentrate on memorizing the chanting and how to properly enunciate the words."


    John nodded and followed the instructions. Somehow it felt like he was back in kindergarten, still learning basic words. His mother''s teachings were more on the practical side, so he never actually needed to write anything down.


    Writing everything down and learning how each word was spelled felt refreshing. For the first hour. As the bell towers outside tolled for the third time, he started to struggle against boredom. First, he had enjoyed the fact that learning spells required very little physical effort on his part, with practically no chances of injury. After writing the word "lam?li" for the nth time, he wondered if stabbing his hand with the quill would help him stay awake.


    All this studying also helped him understand why body cultivation was so much more common than mind cultivation. Farmers, miners, and workers in general; all of them cultivated by simply doing their jobs and taxing themselves, so it wasn''t all that different from working out. Exercises, eating healthy, and good sleep resulted in getting stronger.


    Mind cultivation followed a similar concept with spellcasters getting stronger the more they cast spells and studied to learn new ones; with some caveats. Not only did it require hard work for years on end, but cultivators needed someone to teach them, and also spellbooks to study. The average commoner could barely read, so books were out of the question for them, and they also wouldn''t have the coin for years of tutoring.


    Knowing that made him appreciate Hagen and Athalia even more for how much they were investing in him.


    "That''s enough for tonight," Ruban finally spoke. He pointed at John''s last writings. Letters were swapped and the writing wasn''t even in a straight line anymore. "You''re dozing off.??


    "Sorry," John said, somewhat ashamed of himself. He had even rested before, but he still couldn''t keep himself awake for the whole lesson.


    "I understand that sitting down on a chair, writing the same thing for hours on end may not be the most exciting thing you could be doing. But please understand how elemental it is for you to take this seriously while you can."


    "Because of the tourney, I know."


    To John''s surprise, the old man scoffed. "Tourneys, nothing but an excuse for people to hurt one another for the amusement of the masses. The Squire''s Tourney may be a way for commoners to enroll at the academy, but they will all be confined to training their bodies, practically none of them able to pursue the study of magic."


    "They don''t teach magic at the academies?"


    "They do, but only to those already at the Archmage stage, or at least on the tenth Mage level. From the second year though, those incapable of breaking through to the Archmage stage are dropped off from magic classes. But that''s not why I say you must take your studies seriously. The older someone is, the harder it is to cultivate. That''s simply a fact of life."


    With more than a small amount of effort, Ruban stood up from the chair. "See this? This is the effect of time, and it comes much sooner to those who don''t take cultivation seriously. So regardless if you join the academy or not, never give up on your studies. Understand?"


    John nodded.


    "Good. We''re done for tonight. For the next class, I expect you to pay more attention."

 57 Name

    The wooden swords met with an audible thump. The impact reverberated through John''s arms as Rody almost managed to knock the sword out of his hands on the first strike.


    The larger man followed up with a kick to John''s cuirass. The armor stopped the blow, but the impact knocked him back and his feet skidded to a stop.


    Rody followed up with a downward swing aimed at John''s helmet.


    John could''ve easily sidestepped the attack if he weren''t off-balance. With no other option, he struck at the incoming sword close to the hilt. He barely managed to deflect the attack, but the impact knocked the sword out from his hands.


    Needing to improvise, he extended both arms and locked his fingers behind Rody''s helmet so that he could pull it into a headbutt.


    The two helmets hit against one another, and John''s brain rattled in his skull. He could only hope that Rody had it even worse.


    He didn''t.


    Rody struck against John''s legs, knocking him to the ground.


    Marleya appeared the next instant, standing over him. "And you''re done. On the bright side, you seem to be improving." She bent down, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing.


    John removed his helmet and took note of the damage. The regular steel helmet now had a large dent around the forehead due to the impact. "I thought that would work," he said, evoking a snort and a laugh from Marleya and Rody respectively.


    While John looked confused, Rody removed his similarly dented helmet to reveal a padded coif underneath.


    "It could''ve gone better if you had worn one of those," Marleya told her squire before flicking a coin at Rody, who hastily caught it mid-air. "You won, so there''s your reward."


    After she promised a gold coin to any Fighter who managed to beat her new squire, this became a sort of common occurrence. Well, maybe not exactly common considering that John won much more often than not, but it still happened once in a while.


    Rody saluted by placing a fist over his heart. "Thank you, Dame." With that, he walked away from the dueling ring, a large smile plastered on his face after receiving the equivalent to two weeks of salary.


    "You better not have too much fun though," she yelled at his retreating figure. "I want you back here on the morrow and in top condition, meaning sober."


    The gold encouraged Fighters to step forth and serve as sparring partners. Even if John lost ten times a day, it would barely make a dent on Marleya''s funds. The Knight''s purchases were all done using platinum coins, with gold only amounting to loose change.


    She also made sure that John wouldn''t go too hard on the opponents. The idea was to attract new opponents, not scare them away.


    He had to agree with her assessment as he still felt more comfortable with the short swords. Hopefully, he''d be able to improve with time and additional training. "One more time then?" he asked.


    "Tomorrow. Lady Athalia will be having a meeting soon and she requested my presence."


    This would be the fourth such meeting in the same week. From John''s first day in Rochdale, these meetings were already frequent. Most of the nobles from back then had already left, now in their place another group of either direct or indirect vassals.


    It didn''t take a genius to realize that something big was happening, likely a war. Some of the guards whispered about it, of a coming war against Knight''s Crossing, but no one knew exactly when it would start.


    Hoping for some answers, John finally decided to ask Marleya about it.


    "Yes," she told him straight away. "The matter is practically decided by this point in time. The earl and lady are working on the details and logistics while waiting for the opportune time."


    "And then Hagen will declare war?"


    "Not exactly. If he did so, he''d be viewed as the aggressor in this conflict. Rather, he is waiting for Vasilis to mass up enough forces to pose a serious threat to earl Skanler. When that happens, the Earl will declare his support for the foreigner''s rebellion."


    Marleya''s words barely registered after she mentioned the name. John''s mind flashed back to the frail-looking Paladin who came to their home and caused his mother''s death. His body lay beside the tree that Dene flung him against, missing an arm and with two holes on one leg. John didn''t see the point in trying to hide any of the bodies and being pressed for time, he simply left them there to rot.


    "I didn''t think of that," he spoke, trying his best to sound normal and hoping that his voice didn''t falter. "So I take that this Vasilis is another noble, then? Maybe I''ve seen him around the castle."


    "He''s not, and that''s unlikely. If you saw him you''d know. Vasilis never quite recovered after Rass Skanler removed his manhood. The man is practically just skin and bones." She looked at John. "Why the question though?"


    He shrugged. "Just curious. If we''re going to war because of this guy, then I feel like I should know more about him."


    Marleya promptly scoffed at his words. "We are not going to war. You''re still just a Fighter and should be worrying about improving your cultivation, understand?"


    "Understood. I''ll do just that then and start preparing for my magic lessons." He turned to leave when Marleya grasped him by the shoulder. John''s heart skipped a beat. Did she suspect anything?


    In another demonstration of her strength, she turned him around to face her and stared him dead in the eye. "What did I tell you about keeping the equipment organized?"


    It took him a moment to realize what she meant. "Of course, I must have forgotten." He gave his best smile and bent down to pick up the wooden sword. After putting it back at the rack, he walked down the training grounds towards the castle.


    ''Breath in, breath out,'' John thought to himself as he walked into the castle and traversed its hallways. He climbed up the flights of stairs, walked down another hallway, and came to his bedroom. Locking the door behind himself, he then proceeded to drop down on a chair.


    "Shit," he muttered. His first instinct was to run and get as far away from Rochdale as possible. That thought quickly died out as he thought more about it. Vasilis was dead, that was just a fact. He didn''t know what this would do to Hagen''s plans of war, but that didn''t concern John.


    The only thing that mattered to him was that Vasilis was dead, as well as the men he took to their home. None of them would be able to identify John. And why did he even need to worry about being identified? He was days away from Greenflower, living in the same castle as an earl. Who would think to look for him there?


    He still couldn''t completely calm down, but there was nothing that could be done about it. For the rest of his time living in the castle, he''d have to get used to this stress. With that in mind, he slipped off the armor and headed into the tub to wash off the sweat from his body.

 58 Life in the castle Part 1

    John stared at his reflection in the mirror, taking note of the damage. Around his cheek, the side of his face was colored red from the bruise he received.


    Earlier today, Marleya pitted him against Neina. Back when she was still a Fighter, John often came up on top; now as a Crusader, she wiped the floor with him.


    The breakthrough happened a week before, and Neina was still getting used to her own strength. As such, when John took a chance for a stab, she reacted with much more strength than she wanted and hit him on the side of the head.


    The helmet held strong, but it still banged pretty hard against his head. Even now it remained throbbing while his neck ached whenever he moved. At least she didn''t hit through the slit of his helmet; that would leave him with fewer teeth and possibly a broken jaw, none of which are fun to heal, especially if he swallowed one of the teeth by accident.


    As he passed a hand over the bruise, he took note of the stubble already growing back. He''d need to shave again soon, one of the downsides of this body compared to the one back on Earth. On the other hand, his hairline showed no signs of receding, so he had to take the good with the bad.


    With a groan, he struggled to remove the gambeson while moving his neck as little as possible. As a Mage with light affinity, a Luminomancer, John could mend the damage, but there was nothing to be done about the pain unless he visited a proper healer. Done with the gambeson, he threw it to the side and did the same to the pants and boots before sinking into the bathtub.


    The warm water was exactly what he needed after a whole morning of working his muscles. He lost track of time as he relaxed in the tub, only getting out after the water started getting colder.


    Wrapping a towel around his waist, he then returned to his bedroom. The room looked almost identical to when he first arrived years ago, with the only difference being the bookcase. Before it only had three books while now it was stacked with various works.


    They ranged from geography to noble houses and even magical beasts. John took the time to study it all as he discovered more and more about this new world. He read on the history of the Olsandre House, from their origin as a cadet branch to the Olsens, to becoming the rulers of Somerford.


    He also read on the various magical beasts that populated this world; fox-like creatures that blended with the forests, moles that dug through solid stone, and even giant eagles that were used as transportation by the truly powerful.


    Of course, none of these books were as valuable as the two that sat by his nightstand. Wrapped in thick leather covers, these were the books he used to study spells, each of them costing a single platinum coin. According to his teachers, the spellbooks would become an essential part of his life if he hoped to continue learning spells.


    Looking presentable again, he finally walked out of the room and into the hallway. As always, guards stood at attention near the Earl''s quarters; that was the only thing that didn''t change in his time here. Everywhere else he looked, the number of guards had been reduced.


    As Marleya had once explained, the high level of security had to do with the number of noble guests. Hagen did it both as a show of strength and also to prevent anything from happening under his nose. On that note, John still couldn''t figure out how Nevil and Bella managed to sneak out of the castle when he first arrived. He also never got to ask as their fathers kept them both locked up afterward.


    After Hagen settled the details with all of his vassals, he waited for Vasilis to eventually declare war against Skanler. He waited for a month, two, three, until he finally couldn''t maintain his forces anymore and was forced to disband them.


    Instead of declaring war as Hagen expected, Vasilis'' forces seemed to have disappeared. Some wondered if the foreigner gave up, while others claimed Skanler must''ve found their hideouts and killed them. Hagen still had no idea of what really happened.


    John said nothing. For all effects and purposes, he knew nothing about it. He was grateful to Hagen and Athalia for welcoming him, but he had no idea how they''d react if they learned of his involvement in the man''s disappearance. He had to think of himself first, that''s what his mother would''ve wanted.


    John descended the stairs and walked towards the kitchen.


    "What the hell happened to you?" was the greeting he received by Clare, a wizened woman, and the castle''s head cook. "Did you forget to wear your helmet or what?"


    John picked up a stool and sat at the counter near her. "I went against a Crusader today. It went as well as you''d expect."


    Clare chortled. "Serves you well then. Just because you''re close to breaking through doesn''t mean that you can go around challenging Crusaders like that."


    "I didn''t challenge anyone. Marleya set it up, and my opponent was supposed to go easy on me."


    She extended a hand and pressed it against his bruised face, causing him to wince back, which led to the pain on his neck flaring up.


    "Please don''t do that," he said, settling back in his seat.


    "Sure, but why haven''t you gone to the healer yet?"


    "It''ll be better by tomorrow. More importantly, what''s there to eat?"


    Clare shook her head. "You''re way too stubborn, boy. Suffering from pain won''t help you improve. When lady Athalia hears about it she''ll have a fit." Clare reached across the stone counter and pulled a covered tray. She opened it up to reveal the slices of roast lamb underneath.


    "She doesn''t need to know," John said while grabbing a knife and fork. "It''ll be our secret."


    The old lady was about to respond when she suddenly paused, her gaze fixed at something him.


    "What exactly don''t I need to know?" spoke a voice from behind John.


    He looked back to find Athalia standing there, arms crossed, and a raised eyebrow.

 59 Life in the castle Part 2

    "¡­that I''m very grateful to you for taking me in." John gave his best smile. Athalia wasn''t impressed. "Did I mention how beautiful you look today?"


    The next thing he knew, her hand was pressing against his neck and he felt the pain flaring up again.


    She clicked her tongue. "Damn it John, why didn''t you come to me to get yourself healed? It''s almost like you want to be in pain."


    "No pain, no gain," he joked, forgetting that she''d have no idea of what he meant.


    "That''s foolish, getting hurt won''t make you cultivate faster. Now stop acting like a child, you''re practically a man already." She extended her hand to the side and a large blob of water floated up from inside an open barrel. It flew towards John and splashed against his neck before reshaping itself back into a blob that covered the bruised area. After working the spell on his neck, she did the same to the side of his face.


    "Thank you."


    "You can thank me by coming to me next time." Athalia willed the water towards a bowl held by Clare. The old woman carried it away to dispose of the water, though John wondered if she wasn''t actually taking a chance to leave. "Is this because you haven''t broken through yet? I told you that it takes time. I, for instance, spent almost three years as a tenth level Fighter before becoming a Crusader."


    John nodded along, already having heard the same story before. His cultivation had been going well, and he managed to become a tenth level Fighter in almost two years. Athalia praised him for his progress, particularly remarkable considering that he was splitting his efforts by dual cultivating. For a time, John thought the same.


    As time passed though, and he remained stuck as a Fighter, he couldn''t help thinking that he wasn''t cultivating fast enough. The necklace acted as a constant reminder of what his mother once strived to achieve: Paladin and Warlock realms before thirty years of age.


    Maybe she would have managed to do it if she''d had more time. Maybe whatever was inside the Secret Realm would''ve been powerful enough to revert the course of the war and protect her home. Alas, she didn''t have the time. Her home was destroyed, everyone she knew and loved either dead or enslaved.


    She was long dead now, and John found himself fretting if he''d ever manage to turn her last wish into reality.


    "Maybe I''m not pushing myself hard enough," he muttered. "I know that I''m close to breaking through, I can feel it."


    "John..." Athalia placed a hand on his shoulder. "You already work yourself too hard. The only thing you seem to care about is training. We all need a rest once in a while. Keep going like this, then I worry that you''ll break one day."


    John nodded along, not because he agreed, but because he knew that arguing would only waste more time.


    Athalia smiled. "Good. Now, finish eating then come with me. There''s something I want to show you."

 60 A Break

    A light breeze blew through the flowering trees. A bird sang somewhere hidden among the branches, causing another one to also sing in response. The gardens felt quiet, peaceful, and pointless.


    After leaving the castle, John and Athalia hopped into a carriage and came to the city gardens. The place was open to the public but, considering that it was located in the richer part of town, only nobles and other people of note ever visited.


    "Look at those." Athalia pointed at a bed of white-stemmed blue flowers. "Those are Holy Friddas, a special breed of roses that only bloom at this time of the year. They''re named after the goddess Friddila. She doesn''t have a following here in Gwynland, but Her cult is the most widespread one at Silberwalder. It''s said that the blue petals represent Friddila''s vast knowledge while the white stem represents Her pure body. Beautiful, aren''t they?"


    "Yes, they are," John responded, trying his best to sound interested. It''s not that he didn''t appreciate how much she seemed to care for him. It''s just that, with hm worried about breaking through, he couldn''t bring himself to care about some flowers. "I wasn''t aware that you were so informed about flowers."


    "Because I''m not. I only know of it from my wedding ceremony, and that''s because the one who gifted it to me made sure to point out how precious they were. You probably know more about plants and wildlife than I do."


    "Maybe, but the ones I know would be considered weeds in here." John looked around at the colorful flowers and carefully trimmed trees. He couldn''t identify a single one of them.


    "Let''s look for the gardeners and ask them about it." Athalia grasped John''s hand and pulled him along as she walked through the gardens. While she claimed to be looking for the gardeners, she stopped to admire everything of note that they came across.


    In a different situation, John might''ve enjoyed this leisurely stroll, but now it felt like a waste of time. Every time they stopped to look at some tree from somewhere far away, or colorful flower, it felt like he was wasting time that could be better used to cultivate. And, of course, they also came across other visitors, who all made sure to stop and greet the earl''s wife.


    "Isn''t it nice to take a break every once in a while? Seriously, you and Hagen need to get your heads off of work. It''s like you''re both trying to work yourselves into an early grave."


    Now that she mentioned, John realized how little he''d seen Hagen these last few days. "Why is he so busy? Did something happen?"


    "I need to do well at the squire''s tourney. There are little more than three years left for me to turn twenty."


    Athalia placed a hand on his shoulder. "You''re going to do fine. I think that, when she was still a squire, not even Marleya pushed herself as hard as you do."


    "But Marleya isn''t a half-bred, is she?" It came out much more confrontational than he wanted. "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean it like that. It''s just that this whole wait to breaking through has been stressing me. It has been two years already and I feel stagnated as a warrior. Not only that, but I''m also still just an 8TH level Mage. At this rhythm, I may not be able to become an Archmage before the tourney."


    "There''s more to life than the tourney or even the academy, John. You act like you''re in a race against time. Every once in awhile we need to stop and smell the flowers." She plucked a red rose from the ground and held it under his nose. "Cultivation may be important, but there are things far more worthwhile than that. Friendship, family, love. These are things worthy of pushing yourself to the limit for."


    John nodded, fully aware that he had none of those. He had no friends in here and, other than the usual banter with Neina, he barely talked to anyone at the training grounds. Love was even less likely. Thinking of family made him recall his mother, and how he could''ve helped prevent her death if he had been stronger at the time.


    It didn''t matter how much he tried, his thoughts always returned to the matter of strength which, in turn, made him anxious at how he still hadn''t become a Crusader yet. He did his best to focus on something else.


    Other than his mother, the only family he had left would be Jonathan, imprisoned for years due to honor as Hagen put it. Stupidity would be one of the words chosen by John. There were more than a few instances when John had to do some unsavory actions for the greater good. He wasn''t proud of them, but whatever he did, his actions didn''t change who he was. Accepting a political marriage in the off chance of protecting one''s love would be the correct course of action for John. His father seemingly couldn''t understand such a thing.


    So, in the end, he had a dead mother, a fool for a father, and everyone else from his father''s side of the family would have John killed if they knew of his existence. That''s why John considered only Dene as his family. And now she was gone. "Yeah, I don''t have any of those."


    "Of course you do," Athalia said with a gentle smile. "Me and Hagen, we''re your friends. And, even though I didn''t bring you to this world, I still consider you a son."


    John''s eyes widened in genuine surprise. He tried to come up with an answer but he couldn''t find the right of words to thank her. In the end, he settled for just, "Thanks."


    "You''re welcome. That''s it for friends and family. Now, for the matter of love, maybe it''s time for you to think of getting married. I''ve seen how that girl from the training grounds looks at you. The one who''s always wearing the blue headband."


    "Neina?" John asked with a laugh. "I doubt that."


    "Trust me, I know what I''m talking about. She''s a few years older, but that shouldn''t be much of a problem. You''ll have children of your own in no time."


    "Let''s just change the subject, please."


    Athalia laughed. "Just promise me one thing then. If you''re so set on your training, then at least be more careful, all right?"


    John looked back at her. "All right."

 61 Elation

    "Akin to humans, every animal is also able to cultivate on an instinctual level to become magical beasts. Unlike us, however, their advancements aren''t as clear cut. A Fighter advances to become a Crusader, while a Mage becomes an Archmage. Such a linear process is exclusive to humans.


    Every other living being is different in the sense that they may evolve into multiple different magical beasts. A common deer, for example, may evolve to become a windeer, a great deer, or even something like an auhirsch.


    And it''s not by chance that this writer chooses the word "evolve," as advancing changes the magical beast in a way that simply doesn''t happen with humans. Even a tenth level Paladin, the pinnacle of bodily strength despite claims to the contrary, will have children born unawakened and without a speck of mana in their bodies. That''s just the way it is for us humans.


    Magical beasts, on the other hand, will give birth to magical beasts, and not the animals they evolved from. A windeer will give birth to another windeer, meaning that cultivation gains aren''t lost between generations.


    Reading up to this point the reader may begin to wonder why then aren''t magical beasts so much more powerful than us humans? With this sort of advantage, the magical beasts should have eventually gotten to a point where humans simply couldn''t compete, correct?


    Yes and no.


    While the magical beasts'' ability to evolve is truly remarkable, it can also be considered a double-edged sword. After evolving, the magical beast is considered a different species and as such is unable to reproduce with common animals. If it tries, it''ll result in nothing but stillborns or eventually a sterile half-bred.


    Such a fact means that it is not enough for a magical beast to evolve by itself. It also requires another evolved magical beast from the opposite sex so that the two may reproduce and ensure the survival of this new species.


    This isn''t a problem at lower stages of cultivation considering how easy it is to advance. Statistics maintains that up to one in every ten common animals manage to evolve throughout their lifetime. At higher stages of cultivation, though, as advancing becomes more and more difficult, such a problem may spell a death sentence to any new species.


    It is this simple fact that ensures the parity of forces between humans and beasts; or it would, if not by the humans'' superior intellect. It''s this intellect that allows us to build cities and research more and more the workings of spells. As such not even dragons, the most powerful magical beasts to ever exist, can contend with humans.


    With every passing day, our population grows, and more and more lands come under our control.


    While I maintain that evolution is impossible among humans, it''s also undeniable that the southerner is a human of sorts. Similar to magical beasts and common animals, the offspring of a civilized man and a southerner is always a disaster. These half-breds are always sterile, which can only be seen as a blessing. Often unhinged and with intellect bellow even that of a southerner, these curs¡ª"


    John couldn''t take it anymore and closed the book. He''d begun reading it hoping for a clue on how to advance, not expecting it to take the turn it took. "What a load of bullshit."


    John wouldn''t consider himself exactly normal, but he certainly wasn''t unhinged nor did he have low intellect. He didn''t know if he was sterile; Athalia didn''t seem to think so given how she talked of him having children of his own.


    It had been a month ever since his talk with Athalia. As she asked so, John stopped pushing himself as hard as he used to. It certainly wasn''t easy. The increased time on his hands meant he had much more time to think about how stagnant he was, increasing his anxiety. If Athalia had hoped for him to relax more, then it seemed that her intentions backfired.


    With a sigh, John put the book aside and resumed his squire obligations. He grabbed Marleya''s sword with both hands and, with a heave, lifted it from the table. Despite being three levels higher than when he first became a squire, the weapon barely felt any lighter. Marleya had once mentioned how little did levels matter as a Fighter, and John could see why.


    According to her, only after becoming a Crusader did levels truly start to matter. Before that, a lower leveled Fighter could make up for the difference in strength simply by having more muscles. After becoming a crusader though, the muscles themselves didn''t matter nearly as much as the mana instilled into them, which was what dictated a person''s level.


    This difference in levels would become even more pronounced as a Paladin. The more one cultivates, the harder it becomes to advance. On the other hand, each new advancement is also more beneficial than the last. That is to the point where only one or two levels of difference could decide the outcome of a duel.


    John pushed open the door and came out from Marleya''s quarters and into the training grounds. He struggled to carry the heavy weapon towards the other side of the training grounds where Marleya was giving out orders as usual. With her on duty, none of the sergeants of the guard could be seen.


    "What took you so long?" she asked before taking the sword from his hands.


    John stood side by side with her. "I got caught up in a book."


    Marleya scoffed. "I''m pleased to see you taking your duties seriously."


    "Hey, don''t blame me. Athalia''s the one who doesn''t want me getting hurt again."


    "Wa¡ª" She paused midway to shout at a Fighter after he dropped his sword. "Was the book any good at least?"


    "It called me crazy and dumb, so I''d say no."


    Marleya scoffed again, less angry and more amused this time. "You won''t have to worry about books insulting you anymore. I talked to lady Athalia, and you''ll be glad to know that she accepted to let you go back to training."


    Her words surprised him. "I didn''t expect that. How did you convince her?"


    "I simply explained how much you''d rather be training instead of doing nothing. She agreed on the condition that you won''t be getting injured as much."


    "Thanks," John said with a smile.


    "Don''t thank me yet. All I need is for you not to get injured. I''ll be sure to make you work twice as hard to make up for the lost time."


    John walked to the weapon racks and grabbed a dulled longsword. "As long as it helps me have a breakthrough, then fine by me."


    Marleya laughed. "That''s the spirit. Now, let''s start from where we stopped." She looked towards one of the dueling rings where Neina was helping her defeated opponent back up. "Neina, come here!"


    Neina twitched and almost let her opponent fall back to the ground. She quickly walked and saluted the knight. "Yes, dame?"


    "I want you to spar with John. Make sure to control your strength this time, understand?"


    "Yes, dame," she responded before turning to John. "I''m surprised to see you back here. I was afraid that you had started to avoid me after last time."


    John laughed. "You''re not the first person to knock me down and I doubt you''ll be the last."


    "I''m glad to see that you''re not ashamed."


    He raised an eyebrow. "Why would I feel ashamed?"


    "I mean, you did get beaten up by a woman, but there''s no shame in that. Other men would probably feel emasculated, but I''m glad that''s not the case with you." A playful smirk crept up her face.


    "Very funny. Just wait until I breakthrough."


    "And how long will that be? One, two more years?"


    John knew she said it as a joke, but it still hurt him a bit. "By the way, you better take care not to hit me like last time. I''d hate to see what Athalia would do if that happened."


    Neina''s smile froze.


    Not waiting, John stepped forward with a stab. Neina quickly reacted by striking at the blade and sending it to the side. John didn''t try to twist and turn like he usually did. Instead, he brought the blade back to slash at her arm.


    Neina blocked it almost too easily this time but, as John expected, she didn''t try to counter. Not caring for form at all he slashed and stabbed as he saw fit. He knew that he was leaving himself full of openings. He also knew that she wouldn''t explore any such opening after what he said. As such, John kept on attacking while Neina kept on defending. It felt way too similar to going against a training dummy.


    After so long without pushing himself, John felt alive again. His goal by cultivating had always been to get stronger, but he never realized how much he enjoyed the process as well. Every time he struck against her sword, the vibrations traveled up his arms and echoed inside his body.


    At a normal fight, he''d be aiming at the opponent''s body instead of their weapon. Given the difference in strength though, it made no difference as she could move much faster than him. That was just as well to him as he didn''t truly want to hurt her.


    John''s muscles ached a pleasant ache before becoming not so pleasant anymore. He didn''t care. As long as it wasn''t truly hurting then he could keep on going. He raised the dull sword up high and brought it down with all of his force. She blocked it again.


    He prepared for the next attack when he noticed something wrong. His sword remained touching against hers and, no matter how much he tried, he couldn''t pull them apart.


    No, that wasn''t right either. The swords weren''t the problem¡ª


    John''s arms gave out, dropping the sword and falling lifelessly to his sides. His knees gave out next as he felt something breaking inside of him. No, not breaking; opening.


    John would smile if he could.

 62 Distress Part 1

    Out of his control, John''s body leaned backward and was about to fall when two strong hands held him by the shoulders. "Got you," Marleya spoke from behind him.


    Neina let out a gasp. "Is he advancing?"


    "Yes, barely two years..."


    Marleya''s words faded to the background as John focused on himself. With each passing second, he lost more and more control of his body, making him feel like a puppet with its strings cut. His breathing came out in labored gasps and his body turned so much warmer that he felt like he''d walked into a sauna. His arms and legs felt like weights attached to his body rather than a part of it.


    John had taken the time to study how advancements worked but experiencing it was a whole different matter. For example, he knew that loss of muscle control happened at every bodily advancement. What he didn''t realize is that the diaphragm would be such a muscle. Try as he might, he could no longer get the air to enter his lungs. He started to suffocate.


    Marleya and Neina stood over him. Their lips moved and yet he couldn''t make out their voices. Was it a concern in their eyes? Neina''s maybe. Certainly not the knight''s. John couldn''t picture her showing concern about anything. Not that she didn''t care, just that she didn''t know how to show it.


    Soon, even his vision had turned too cloudy for him to make out anything beyond their vague shapes. Having lost all his other senses, John was only able to feel the changes in his body and nothing else.


    The heat inside him kept rising up, starting from his center and spreading to his limbs. He wondered if his body would continue heating up until it burned to a crisp. Instead, when the temperature at his chest got past a certain point, his whole body jerked violently as if he just had a seizure.


    The process repeated itself, again and again, each time more violently than the previous. His muscles strengthened every time it happened.


    Finally, as the last spasm rocked his body, John found himself able to move again. With a sudden gasp, he breathed in, filling his lungs before breathing out. He did it. He was now a Crusader.


    He opened his eyes and Neina''s smile was the first thing John saw. "Congratulations."


    Marleya spoked next, patting him on the shoulder. "Not bad. Barely two years to advance." After that, she grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back to his feet.


    "I thought I would die." John kept on breathing hard. An acrid stench burned his nose. It didn''t take long to realize that it was coming from him. He looked at his hands and found them smeared with a black grime. Under the gambeson he felt his skin sticking to the fabric, indicating that his whole body was as dirtied as his hands. Those would be the impurities that were expelled from his body.


    "That''s normal, same for the impurities," Marleya said. "Knowing you I''d think it to be a fair price."


    She laughed. "If you think it was bad now, then just you wait until advancing to Paladin. It''s like drowning while a hundred lightning bolts course through your body."


    "Lovely."


    While they had been talking, Neina walked away and returned with a clay pitcher filled with water. "Here, you must be parched. I know I was after advancing."


    John nodded and extended his hand to grab it. Not used to his newfound strength, his hand moved too quickly and banged against the pitcher. "Sorry."


    "That''s okay. I also took some time to get used to it as you probably remember." She smiled.


    Carefully, he moved the pitcher to his lips and started drinking. What started as a gingerly sip turned into a series of big gulps that soon drank all of the water.


    "So, how do you feel after advancing?" Neina asked while taking the pitcher from his hands.


    Accomplished was the first word that came to John''s mind, but he refrained from saying it. He still had a long list of things he needed to do, the top of which was getting into the secret realm. "Strong, I''d say, or at least stronger than before." He eyed Marleya. "Can I borrow your sword for a moment?"


    The knight shrugged and drew the blade from her hip. "You still won''t be able to use it."


    After being handed the sword, John had to agree. It remained too unwieldy for him to use in actual combat, but at least now he could lift it with a single hand. This would make his squire duties much easier. "Yeah, definitely stronger," he told Neina while handing the blade back to Marleya.


    Neina nodded with a smile. "That''s how I felt too." Her smile then turned into a playful grin. "And by the way, now that we''re both Crusaders you won''t have any excuse the next time I beat you."


    "Is that so? From what I recall, you were the one always getting defeated by me. Now that we''re both Crusaders, things will return to their natural order."


    "Let''s see about that then. Think fast!" Neina swung the clay pitcher as if to smash it against John''s head.


    Startled, he raised a hand intending to intercept it. Instead, he raised his hand too quickly and hit his own chin.


    She cackled with laughter. "Oh yes, I can barely wait for our next spar. I admit it will be hard to beat you before you knock yourself out." She kept on laughing before jumping back with a yelp as John advanced to grab her.


    He considered running after her but didn''t want to risk tripping over his own feet. She''d never let him live that down.


    "She''s just teasing, forget about it," Marleya commented. "You should instead go tell lady Athalia the good news. I''m sure she''ll be thrilled about it. But do yourself a favor and bathe first."


    John nodded. He honestly would prefer to get on training to get used to his strength but he really needed a bath. He grabbed the training sword from the ground, put it back on the rack, and walked back to the castle.


    As he walked through the castle hallway, John received a few congratulations from some of the staff. From a safe distance. He had just reached the stairs when he noticed a commotion further down the hallway. That''d be the throne room.

 63 Distress Part 2

    Wishing to know what was happening, he walked to the end of the hallway and asked one of the guards on duty about it.


    The man coughed and waved a hand in front of his nose. "Nobles visiting I guess. All I know is that the earl and his wife are there."


    That made John curious. While the earl worked a lot, he rarely received any visits from other nobles. Most of the work was done from his office upstairs with the help of Alon, his chamberlain. Usually, he''d only work from the throne on Diusdays when he listened to the petitioners.


    John stuck his head through the doorway to take a look into the throne room. None of the guards tried to stop him, though they looked visibly bothered.


    The throne room looked as grand as ever, with a tall ceiling that reached up to the second floor and banners in the Westbrooks'' colors hanging from the walls. Sunlight through the windows and over the smooth stone floor. Hagen sat at his throne atop the dais. Alon stood to his right while Athalia was by his left.


    Hagen didn''t have many courtiers, with most of his retinue being posted throughout the city, acting as his eyes and ears. Their only interaction with the Earl happened at the start of each month when they reported anything of note to him. These reports ranged from the grain prices to the production of the mines, and also any unusual movement inside the city. As such, the throne room always seemed to have too much free space, even when in use.


    Under the guards'' watchful gazes, two men and a woman approached the throne. Their clothes looked fine although certainly not as good as a noble''s. None of them had any jewelry either.


    The middle-aged woman to the left had her dark hair cut only a few inches short. Her face looked somber, though John suspected that was her usual expression. The man to the right looked younger and he had a blue sash over his robes. His rough black hair contrasted with a perfectly shaved faced and well-groomed clothes. Something about the man looked familiar to John but, try as he might, he couldn''t figure out where from. As for the man at the center¡ª


    John''s heart skipped a beat. His breath got stuck in his throat and he felt like he was once again suffocating. How? How could that be?


    With a limp, the frail man at the center led the other two towards the dais. His right sleeve fluttered with his steps as if he had nothing underneath.


    John knew that was exactly the case. He knew it because his mother was the one who ripped out the man''s arm before killing him. Or at least that''s what John thought that had happened.


    The man stopped a couple of steps from the dais. He bowed his head while the man and the woman dropped to one knee. "My lord Hagen, it''s a pleasure to see you again," he spoke in a raspy voice that John was never able to forget.


    Hagen nodded his head with a smile that failed to reach his eyes. "The feeling is mutual Vasilis."

 64 Assertion

    Devran glanced at the double doors to the right from the dais. Two guards in gray armor stood there, but he could''ve sworn he had seen a third person. He pushed it out of his mind. It had probably been just a servant. He had something much more important to worry about.


    "Now," earl Hagen spoke from his throne, "to what do I owe this visit?"


    "I think the reason is clear already," said his father. "Something must be done about Rass Skanler. He''s a menace and a disgrace to the title of nobility. Every day he remains as earl another family suffers. More and more, his people can''t endure it anymore and prepare to rise up in rebellion."


    The earl nodded. "And I''m sure that you have much to do with the last part." He paused to look at his wife before continuing. "I''m well aware that all you say is true, as it was true years ago when you seemed ready to declare war. Instead, you and your men disappeared at the last minute, leaving everyone to wonder if Skanler had finally found and killed you."


    "If he had found me, then no one would be left wondering. That madman would surely spread the news around for everyone to hear." Vasilis slipped his hand under the tunic''s right sleeve, raising it up for display. "While I''m not dead, I did come awfully close to it and didn''t come out unscathed."


    Devran knew that wasn''t an understatement. His father had been on the brink of death when Devran found him.


    It was supposed to be a quick and easy job. Grab the town''s huntswoman and her son to find out if they attacked the scout camp. Despite weakened, his father was still a Paladin, so he should''ve been able to deal with the mother. Barton went along for support along with four Fighters to deal with the kid.


    When evening came and Vasilis still hadn''t returned, Devran knew that something had gone wrong. He considered raising camp and leaving. That would be the most logical option. His father was the only Paladin they had in the vicinity and, If he met with a stronger opponent, then there was little hope for Devran faring any better.


    Ultimately though, Devran couldn''t bear to do it, so he left by himself to look for them. His heartbeats thumping in his ears as he cautiously went up the small hill where the huntswoman lived. The smell of ashes became stronger as he approached the cottage until he finally came upon the house''s burning remains.


    A man''s body laid underneath the collapsed doorway. One of the Fighters who followed his father on the mission. Circling around the cottage, Devran came upon another dead body, this time a blonde woman. Another one from his group. He counted five stabs wounds on her chest, all of them deep.


    That death felt particularly painful. Unlike the dead Fighters, he knew Barton from a long time ago. Along with Samn, the man was one of Devran''s few friends. As much as it hurt though, there was nothing that could be done. Devran could only hope that his father was still alive.


    Rummaging through the ashes, he found two other bodies, both of them from their group. This tallied up to everyone who had accompanied his father. Devran couldn''t stop wondering if his father had met a similar fate.


    Not finding anything else inside the house, he then began searching outside, to where the signs of destruction continued. One tree had been broken in half. The smaller one behind it had been uprooted. Finally, at the foot of the third tree, Devran found Vasilis.


    One of his arms was missing, not so much cut as ripped apart. His thigh had been stabbed twice, both wounds so deep that they came out from the other side. Vasilis barely breathed.


    Devran didn''t stop to think. He placed his father over his shoulders and carried him away in search of a healer. Greenflower had one, but the old man was only a Mage, too weak to be of any help.


    So instead, Devran sprinted back to their camp at the forest, all the while praying that his father would hold on. He did.


    Back at camp, the best healer was only an Archmage. The woman couldn''t completely heal his father, but at least she managed to prevent him from dying. Only with time and constant healing did Vasilis recover, but not without lasting damages.


    For starters, his arm was gone. Without a Warlock, it was impossible to reattach a Paladin''s body part. Even if they managed to find one, the arm had already started to rot. Besides that, the wounds on his thigh didn''t heal properly, so he''d walk with a limp from then on after.


    Still, the most serious damage wasn''t physical. They had been only a few months away from declaring war against Rass Skanler, but there was no way to do it without Vasilis. As such, they were forced to abandon any notions of war and went back into hiding, pausing their operations.


    Devran saw how much of a blow that was to his father. At times he feared that, instead of his falling to his injuries, his father would simply give up on life.


    As for the mother and child who caused all that, they both seemed to have disappeared. Neither of them was ever seen again in Greenflower. To this day, Devran still wondered how they managed to cause so much destruction.


    Vasilis claimed that, suddenly, the mother started casting Warlock-level spells. Devran trusted his father wholeheartedly, but he still found it hard to believe. Such a thing sounded too much like the Grenfell Massacre, where the Olsens claimed that a southerner Archmage slaughtered a group of Paladins and Warlocks.


    If the southerners were able to do such a thing, they wouldn''t have lost the war in the first place. To Devran it sounded much more likely that the Olsens framed the deaths on a southerner to sow fear and impose even harsher laws against the slaves. Which they did.


    Looking at the empty sleeve, lady Athalia raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What happened?"


    "I underestimated an opponent," said Vasilis. He removed the hand from underneath the sleeve, causing it to fall lifelessly. "Or maybe I overestimated myself. Regardless, the end result is clear to see."


    "I''m sorry to hear that."


    "Thank you for your sympathy, my lady. While unfortunate, that''s not the first body part that I lose." Vasilis'' lips curved up into a smile. "Not the largest either."


    Lady Athalia wasn''t impressed, any signs of warmth disappearing from her face.


    Hagen coughed. Devran didn''t fail to notice the slight twitching at the corner of the earl''s mouth. "Getting back to the matter on hand, what are you proposing?"


    "While delayed, my objectives didn''t change. When summer arrives in a couple of months, we''ll be declaring war against Rass Skanler. We hope to count with my lord''s support."

 65 Special

    John allowed his body to sink in the bathtub to remove the filth sticking to his body. The dark grime required a lot of scrubbing to completely remove, after which it floated around in the bathwater. He felt like he''d need a second bath to get completely clean.


    After advancing, he didn''t care about it at all due to how happy he felt. That happiness had been immediately snuffed out after discovering that Vasilis continued alive. Now, he didn''t know what to feel. Regret for not making sure that Vasilis was dead? Anger that the man responsible for his mother''s death was still alive? Or maybe fear for what could happen if Vasilis discovered him living there? Probably all of the above.


    After finally advancing, he had felt stronger than ever. As a Crusader, he was much closer in strength to those he''d be fighting at the Squire''s Tournament. If he also managed to become an Archmage then the whole competition would become a trivial affair to him.


    Now, he couldn''t recall a time where he felt so weak. Weak because he was no longer thinking about doing well at the tournament in a few years or even about how to get into the Secret Realm further down the line. His goal was much more immediate: to kill Vasilis.


    The back scrubber''s handle crackled in John''s hand, making him realize how strongly he was gripping it. He relaxed his grip before placing the piece of solid wood back on the stand along with the other bathing utensils.


    He wondered how he''d be able to deal with Vasilis when someone knocked on the door to his bedroom.


    John''s heart skipped a beat. Still naked, he got out of the bathtub and opened the bathroom door. "Yes?"


    "John, it''s me," Athalia''s voice sounded out from the hallway.


    He breathed a sigh of relief before drying himself with a towel and putting on a bathrobe. He then walked across the room, bare feet stepping on the carpet, and opened the door. Athalia stood on the other side, a large smile on her face and, to John''s surprise, she wasn''t alone.


    Neina stood next to Athalia with a closed food tray on her hands and an uncomfortable look on her face.


    "By Alella, you really advanced." Athalia moved in closer and hugged him tightly. "I went by the training grounds just now and didn''t see you there. When I asked Marleya about it, she then told me about you advancing but I didn''t believe it. Why didn''t you come to tell me about it?"


    John faked a smile and invited the two in, making sure to close the door after them. "I was planning to do it after getting a bath."


    "Oh, of course, the impurities. It''s been so long since I advanced that I had already forgotten about it." Athalia pulled up a chair and sat down by the table. "Sit down and tell me more about it." She turned towards Neina who remained standing. "You too dear, leave the tray on the table and sit down."


    "Interesting how it happened while you were both sparring. Maybe we have Neina here to thank for that."


    Neina gave an obviously forced smile. "T-There''s no need for that my lady. I was just doing as dame Marleya asked me to."


    "Nonsense," Athalia said while waving a dismissive hand. "This is obviously a sign. Long before I was even born, my great grandfather advanced to Paladin while sparring against a lady from another house. He took that as a good omen and decided to marry her. The two lived together for almost two centuries and had eleven children in total."


    Neina continued to look uncomfortable but now she also seemed a bit confused at Athalia''s words.


    John recalled his talk with Athalia back in the city gardens. He cared very little about her matchmaking plans and so decided to change the subject. "While coming to my bedroom, I noticed some sort of commotion in the throne room. What was that about?"


    "Oh, you saw that." Now it was Athalia who looked uncomfortable. "We had some surprise guests today, so Hagen and I were welcoming them."


    John nodded and decided to try probing further. "I heard someone talking about earl Skanler and war. Are these guests the foreigners who are rebelling against the earl?"


    Her eyes opened up wide in surprise. "How do you know about that?"


    "People around the castle talk," he answered with a shrug.


    "Well, they shouldn''t, and neither should you be worrying about such things." She paused to try and compose herself. "Instead, you should worry about your cultivation." Athalia leaned forward to remove the lid from the tray, revealing all the pastries and cooked meats underneath. "You''ve just advanced so your body needs a lot of mana to get back in proper shape."


    John grabbed two pieces of white bread and ate it along with ham and cheese. He wanted to ask her more about it, but she made it very clear that she wouldn''t say anything. Maybe he should try asking Hagen later.


    "That''s not the only reason for my visit today." Athalia fished two coins from inside her dress and placed them on the table beside the food. "I also wanted to give you this."


    The coins were made of a transparent crystal and they both felt smooth in John''s hands. One was white while the other one was black, leading him to believe that they had something to do with his magical affinities. "What are these coins?"


    "Mana," she answered with a smile. "Crystalized mana to be more accurate. I asked your teachers to make them for you and they took a couple of years to complete. I planned on giving it to you later on but, seeing how quickly you advanced, I decided to do it earlier."


    "They look valuable."


    "Because they are, even more than platinum. Crystalized mana like that can be used to speed up your cultivation. It works best according to your affinities, which is why I asked both your teachers to make it."


    "I¡­" John failed to find the right words. "I don''t know how to thank you."


    Athalia smiled. She stood up from her chair and patted him on the head. "You don''t need to thank me. I''ve said before that you''re special, and this is my way of helping you reach your full potential. Just remember what I told you about pushing yourself too hard. Now, I know you must be tired, but first, there''s a last piece of news. Miss Neina, if you will."


    Neina stood straight. "L-Lady Athalia has assigned me as your personal guard from here on out."


    "I don''t need a personal guard," John immediately answered. "Why would I need one given how secure the castle is?"


    "The castle certainly, but a young man such as yourself shouldn''t be holed up indoors all day long. Miss Neina here will be your protector from here on out whenever you want to go outside. She''ll accompany you if you ever decide to visit the city gardens again, for instance." Athalia gave him a knowing smile. "But that''s all I had to say. Don''t forget to rest and eat a lot. Miss Neina and I will be leaving now."


    Athalia led Neina out of the room, closing the door behind them and leaving John alone again.


    John gave a long sigh. He''d need to do something about Athalia''s matchmaking plans one day. He was munching on a bacon strip when the coins grabbed his attention, making him recall Athalia''s words.


    He was special.


    That wasn''t just her opinion, but also Chrono''s. The god had chosen him to reincarnate for a reason, so there was obviously something special about John.


    The thought brought a smile to John''s face. Maybe he was weak for now, but he had the potential to become stronger. Much stronger. Even if he doesn''t manage to find a quick way of dealing with Vasilis, he''d eventually grow strong enough to no longer fear the Paladin.


    Vasilis was already dead, the bastard just didn''t know it yet.

 66 Asse

    The carriage lightly shook as its wheels rolled over the cobblestone street. Like a snake, the shadowy tendril coiled around John''s exposed forearm, completely under his control.


    He placed the arm under the sunlight that peeked inside through the gaps in between the curtains and the carriage''s wooden boards. As with other shadow spells, the tendril was able to withstand direct sunlight, just not for long. It fizzled, shrinking more and more with each passing moment before disappearing into nothing.


    "Did you want to leave the castle just to practice your spells?" Neina asked from the cushioned seating opposite to his. She munched on a slice of cooked venison with a face of boredom. "Just pick a place or let''s go back already."


    John rolled down his cloak''s sleeve. "There''s nothing wrong with some sightseeing."


    "Sightseeing? Then at least open the curtains already. We''ve been going around in this closed carriage for more than an hour." Done with the turkey, she fished a roasted drumstick from inside the straw basket by her side.


    "Would you mind leaving some for me? You''re eating them all by yourself."


    "I can''t help it, they are just so good. I already suspected that the food served inside the castle would be better, but not so much."


    "They are also made with mana rich ingredients. Athalia chose those to help with my cultivation."


    "Well then, as your personal guard, it''s only fair for me to eat those. That way I''ll grow stronger and it''ll be easier to protect you." After that, she turned her attention back to the food.


    John could only shake his head in resignment. He pulled open the curtain to his right, just a sliver so that he could peek outside. They passed by a large storefront made of purple bricks. The next two buildings both seemed to be houses, while the third one was a flower shop. It was their fourth time passing through this specific street just today. It started by a large church to Rothar, god of the forge, and went on for around a mile-and-a-half, coming to an end at the main street.


    The street was located somewhat far from the richer districts, but not so much that it would pass by the poorer parts of the city. If John had to guess, this was the kind of place reserved for the middle class.


    Normally he would pass by the street without paying it much mind. Now, though, he needed to take in every detail that he could, all because of the new residents at an unassuming house further down.


    "Don''t you get tired of sitting around doing nothing?" Neina asked in between bites at a cookie.


    "Not really, you just need to find something to occupy your time. Bring a book next time."


    "I''ll need to get better at reading for that. I''m starting to wonder why the lady chose me to be your guard. All you do is sparring, go around in this carriage for a couple of hours, and then you go back to the castle."


    Neina''s body trembled as if a shiver had gone up her spine. "Don''t even joke about that. One word from her and I could go straight to the dungeons, the headsman, or worse."


    "Is that why you looked so uncomfortable back when she brought you to my room?"


    "Of course. As nice as lady Athalia is, she''s still a noble, and only a fool doesn''t fear them. Oh, and also you apparently. Makes me think that you''re not as smart as I thought you were," she said with a laugh. "But seriously now. Do you know why she chose me to be your guard? If she wants to make sure you''re safe, then there are a lot of other guards stronger than me."


    John wondered for a moment if he should tell her or not. Ultimately, he decided that there wasn''t any harm in letting her know about Athalia''s plans. "She''s trying to get us married."


    Neina looked back at him, eyes wide. "What?"


    John shrugged. "She somehow put it in her head that we''re right for one another. I think she''s hoping that with us being together more often, then feelings will blossom or something. Ridiculous, right?"


    "...yeah, ridiculous." Her answer came out much less assuredly than he expected. Maybe Athalia had been onto something after all. "Wait, is that why she talked about her great-grandfather back then? Because you advanced while sparring against me? What if you''d been against Harden instead? There''s a swordfight I''d like to see." She winked before bursting into laughter.


    "Hilarious." John leaned forward and reached into the food basket only to find it empty already. He could only sigh in frustration.


    "Well, it wouldn''t be so bad I guess. I''d be marrying into the castle given how well lady Athalia treats you. What''s the story with that by the way?"


    "I''m her long lost son."


    "Yeah sure. Even I know that the lady has never been heavy with child. And I doubt she''d have a child with a southerner. No offense."


    "Fine. I''m Hagen''s long lost son. He and my mother loved each other, but he was already engaged to Athalia. After my mother''s death, I decided it was time to meet my father and claim what is rightfully mine."


    "I know you can''t be serious, but that sounded much more convincing. For a second, I almost couldn''t tell that you were lying."


    "Alright, the truth is that I was chosen by God to come down to this world."


    "Now you''re sounding like Jacke. Next, you''ll tell me how you shit gold or something. If you''re not going to tell me the truth then at least stop mocking me."


    John simply smiled without saying anything else. He turned back to the right and resumed peering outside. The carriage had just passed by a tailor shop with a large wooden plaque hanging above the entrance. They were getting close.


    Soon, they would pass in front of a small house made of orange bricks and with a pitched roof. The building itself had no meaning other than being located across from the house where Vasilis chose to stay. For whatever reason, Vasilis declined to stay at the castle, for which John was all too glad. The last thing he needed was too stumble on the man and be immediately identified.


    "Can we at least stop for a moment? I need to stretch my legs."


    "Put them over the seats then," John answered without looking at her.


    "Then it would get dirty. I can''t do that to the earl''s carriage." The next thing John knew, she had her boots over his lap. "There, much better," she said with a grin.


    "Ever heard of personal space?"


    "Not really."


    Through the small gap in the curtains, John finally saw the orange house. He turned to look at her. "You know, you''ve been very outspoken lately." He placed a hand over her leg.


    "Oh, yeah?" She bit her lower lip. "What''re you going to do about it?"


    John pushed her legs out of his lap, allowing him to lean forward, closer to her. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face before resting his hand against her cheek. His nose brushed against hers and he took in the scent of the lilac fragrance that she used. "What I''m going to do¡­"


    Neina swallowed, letting out an audible gulp. Her breathing came out more raggedly while her eyes became unfocused.


    He took the hand away from Neina''s cheek and used it to knock against the wooden board behind her, warranting a yelp in surprise from her. "Rud," he yelled to the carriage driver, "please stop the carriage. Miss Neina would like to stretch her legs."


    "Certainly," Rud''s voice came out muffled by the carriage.


    John then pulled away from her, a smirk on his face.


    Neina''s face became more and more flushed. She reached for the sword at her side and for a moment John wondered if he''d gone too far. Instead of drawing it though, she held it so that it wouldn''t knock against the carriage''s door as she stepped out of the still-moving vehicle.


    John stifled a laugh, pulled up his hood, and stepped out after her.


    "You''re an asshole," she said as soon as he came out.


    "Come on, what''s a little teasing between friends?"


    "You''re lucky that this job is so important to me. Else I''d go for your throat."


    "Consider this some well-deserved payback for eating all my food. Speaking of which." John pointed at a stall selling pies further up the street. "Would you mind buying us some?" he asked, handing her a few silver coins. "And bring one to Rud too, he deserves it."


    "Thank you, sir," Rud said from his seat at the carriage''s front.


    "Anything to get away from you." She walked away, her feet practically stomping against the cobblestones.


    John spent more than a couple of moments admiring her retreating figure. Her tight breeches left very little to the imagination. He only started looking at her like that after Athalia began playing the matchmaker.


    In normal circumstances, he wouldn''t be against having fun with Neina, though it seemed like she may feel something more for him. If true, then that complicated things. He didn''t want to play with her heart like that. Some light teasing was okay, but anything with clothes off would be out of the question.


    Of course, that was a worry for another time.


    John looked to the other side of the street, back the way they came from. The street had more than a few people walking around, though they all gave the carriage a wide berth. Further down he saw the two stories house where Vasilis was staying, across from the orange building. Or to be more specific, Devran, Vasilis'' son, was the one staying there.


    From what John gathered, Vasilis and his wife Marietta both left the city, likely to prepare their forces, leaving only Devran behind at the house with some of the guards.


    John would love to get inside there. If he could manage to nab Devran, then it would be much easier to take care of Vasilis. Unfortunately, the house was heavily guarded and there was no way for him to deal with the guards. He''d need to either become a Paladin or learn some spell to turn him invisible.


    So instead, he watched and waited for a chance.


    John walked down the street, the opposite of conspicuous with the raised hood under the sun. There was nothing that could be done about that. It would be impossible for him to blend in, no matter what he did. At least like that, it would be harder to get recognized.


    He walked towards the orange house and stopped one building before it, in front of a bakery tended by a boy only a few years younger than him. The movement seemed to be slow, with only an old lady there buying a couple of bagels. John walked in as soon as she left.


    "Welcome, sir," the boy said from behind the counter. "How can I help you?"


    "I''d like some cookies, how are they looking today?"


    "They''re as good as ever, sir," the boy replied with a cheery smile before taking a wooden plate and stacking it with cookies. "That''ll be two silver coins."


    John fished inside his pouch and left five silver coins on the counter.


    The boy quickly stored them inside a pocket. "Thank you, sir."


    John nodded and turned to leave. From his spot around the bakery''s counter, he had a clear line of sight to the large house where Devran was staying. John couldn''t afford to surveil the house all the time, so he instead recruited some help, namely assets. Kay, the baker boy, was one such asset.


    John left the store and walked back to the carriage.


    "Why did you ask me to buy pies if you were going to buy cookies?" Neina asked as soon as he returned. On one hand, she had two pies stacked atop of one another.


    "Because with your appetite, I wanted to make sure there would be something left for me." John walked to the front of the carriage where Rud sat, a third pie by his side. "We''re done Rud, let''s go back to the castle."

 67 Crystalized Mana

    Zandren looked to be middle-aged. His smooth black hair, streaked with white, fell over his shoulders. He had a clean shaved face and a single earring on his left ear.


    Sitting at the library, John listened to his teacher''s lecture with as much focus as he could muster. At the start of his spellcasting lessons, he always waited for the next classes. But as the years passed, and the novelty of these new spells wore off, his interest declined.


    Unlike the spars in the morning, there was no threat of physical pain if he ever slacked off, and neither was there a significant gain by putting too much of an effort. Simply put, these spells had very little practical use for him until the day he ever becomes an Archmage. Until then, these lessons sounded more like a constant grind.


    Which brought to mind the coins of crystalized mana that Athalia gave him. John fished inside his pocket and took the coins in his hand. according to his teachers, he should try and move the mana as when casting a spell, but inward rather than outward. Even when not actively practicing, he should keep the coins on him at all times.


    "John, are you listening to me?"


    John came out of his daze. "Sorry, teacher."


    "That''s okay," said Zandren, setting down his spellbook. "I guess that we''re on all edge with troops being raised and all."


    Funnily enough, that was the least of John''s worries, as he didn''t really expect Hagen to lose. During his time in the castle, he made sure to keep an ear to the ground for news coming from Knight''s Crossing. From what he gathered, earl Skanler always made sure to keep his troops well-paid, but that could only get someone so far. The earl''s heavy-handed measures had finally caught up to him, leaving him both feared and hated by his people. Never loved.


    That may sound unimportant for a ruler, but it meant that the earl was forced to maintain his cruel tactics to keep control over his subjects. Crueler tactics increased the chances of revolts, forcing him to spread his forces around to prevent further uprisings. With Vasilis and his men stoking the flames at Knight''s Crossing, it was clear that Skanler''s days were counted.


    "I doubt that the fighting will ever Rochdale but in case it does, it''s better to be prepared. You''ve just become a Crusader, so you won''t be all that useful against professional soldiers. Fortunately, you''ve got the crystalized mana with you."


    "Why is it fortunate?"


    John considered the question. Zandren, a Warlock, spent a year crafting a single coin, which would lead John to believe that it was a lot. But if the coins would only help him enough to become an Archmage, then they clearly didn''t contain all that much mana. Maybe the long time to create was due to the difficulty of the process, and not the amount of mana itself. And that''s the answer that he gave.


    "You''re partially right. Crystalizing mana is indeed a long and arduous process. But that doesn''t mean that the amount of it inside these coins is insignificant. I''d say that together, these two coins have as much mana as an average Warlock spell. What I''m going to do is teach you how to set this mana off." Zandren walked away and returned with a lamp made of a simple metal cage with a lightstone inside. He opened it up and grabbed the lightstone, somehow causing it to turn off. "Here, infuse it with mana."


    John did as he told and, as expected, the lightstone lit up again.


    "More, as much as you can."


    The lightstone shone brighter as it was fueled with more mana. Next, it heated up, it''s white light turning to a bluish tone. Finally, when it began vibrating, Zandren summoned a shadow tentacle to coil itself around the lightstone, completely enclosing it. A muffled pop from inside it followed next.


    His teacher produced a white tissue from inside his robes and placed it between the table and the coiled tentacle. Next, he undid his spell, the tissue catching the shattered lightstone''s pieces. "A lightstone exploding doesn''t cause much damage, it was just a matter of not making a mess." He then displayed the crystal coin. "This, on the other hand, will cause a much bigger explosion. All you need to do is to fill it with as much mana as you can until it starts vibrating. When it does, you get rid of it as soon as possible."


    John tried to ignore how he''d been carrying around two explosives on him this whole time, and instead focused on its applications. "If they are so great, then couldn''t we supply soldiers with these?"


    "Sure, just like you could forge a war hammer made of pure gold. It''ll work, it''s just not very cost-effective. Remember that the only way to crystalize mana is through a Warlock, and then it''s easier to place them along with the soldiers. As I said, the main use for crystalized mana is to make it easier to cultivate it." Zandren wrapped the tissue around the lightstone pieces and stood up. "I think that''s enough for tonight. Before I leave, is there anything else you want to know?"


    "Just one thing." John picked the crystal coins. "If these coins have so much mana in them, then how come they''ll only able to push me to become an Archmage?"


    Zandren gave a wry smile. "We''d need all night to answer that question, but long story short, it''s because we''re not very good at absorbing mana. This is simply a fact of life for us humans, better worse depending on the person''s talent, the purity of the mana, and even their age. There''s a reason why the war academies have an age restriction, and that''s because the older you are, the harder it becomes to cultivate." He placed a hand on John''s shoulder. "That''s why for now, you should try to focus on getting stronger."


    John nodded. After Zandren left, he brought a hand up to his mother''s necklace hidden beneath the tunic. Both a Paladin and a Warlock before thirty years of age. Along with the key, those were the requirements to enter the Secret Realm''s core area. That''s what his mother had hoped to achieve before the fall of her tribe.


    As soon as John deals with Vasilis, he''ll be able to focus on what is most important.