It wasn’t a victorious moment. Not a single joyful face could be found amongst the masses as they filled the streets of their city, their home. They walked and cried at finding all they’d amassed be nothing more than scrap. Now they were left to decide their futures; to salvage what was left and rebuild or leave the ‘dreadful border’. How predictable.

Years he’d spent watching Willaim mold and weld the city in blood and backroom deals to create his little paradise. The masses loved him. he was always so sure of his power. ‘Nothing will happen in here unless I deem it so and no external force will be able to take this power away from me’ he used to say. How true that was; for it was not their enemies but his own blood that took it away.

‘You deserved this.’

If not for him, that snobby ungrateful kid he’d grown up on the battlefield with would’ve died at the battle of The Caeper Plains. And how was he repaid? By sparing his life and caging it in a jail cell under his supervision. That wasn’t living, that was carrying out your sentence, something that didn’t happen to a spared man. He’d pleaded, oh how he’d pleaded for another chance. But the masses and his once upon friend turned him away. It was around that time, lost in his darker times that he’d vowed to make them pay. Exploiting the loopholes of Willaim's revolutionary laws for ‘social justice’ was as simple as eating giant gecko meat. In the newer generation of weaker men, his old ways painted him as the boogeyman, something he embraced with open arms if it meant living in the truth. So, he became the boogeyman for the people of Yikensworth. He was feared and scorned by the masses. He held power over them, but back then it wasn’t enough. He needed them to pay.

Now, seeing the women and children cry, over the corpses, they’d only moments before were running from, brought an irresistible smirk to his lip. Yes, this was enough. Now they’d paid for their betrayal all those years ago. If they’d stood with him, seen the duke for what he truly was; things wouldn’t have to turn into this bloody mess. But they didn’t listen. They only saw the good in the daffodil flower he offered, never realizing that the hand offering it was still Ruben’s, except now it was gloved.

‘Changes to society is an urgent calling that we all must adhere to, if you don’t get on the chariot with us you’ll be left behind.’ In the end, the woman who told him that died by the same hands she once supported. She was blind, just like the rest of them.

Fortunately, her child wasn’t. It was a momentous day when he saw William’s own; admit to his wrongdoings and offer her help. She was the first of her family to finally see his way. Lydia knew who her father truly was, what he really did behind that mask and wanted to stop him or at least that’s what she claimed. Going by her plan though, he wasn’t so sure. But she guaranteed his revenge while he guaranteed her protection from that baron uncle of hers when it would all come to fruition. However, thanks to the demons they’d captured, not only did he get his revenge but he also didn’t have to go against that conniving baron uncle of hers.

But nothing was ever easy; the two demons in their embrace were discovered by Mina who’d been waiting for them by the wall. He’d hoped that he would be able to keep her distracted but he did not love a simpleton. She’d quickly found them being escorted to the dungeons and despite his explanations of all that had happened; from the demons revealing their true nature to the deaths they’d caused he was only able to dissuade her from taking Drac, thinking him a bigger threat. Little did she know that it was the woman who was the true demon.

He could’ve stuck his ground and forced his demands to be met but the repercussions would take much longer than he cared to waste his energy on. It was just simpler to agree and change his plans from thereon.

Just by looking at Drac’s injuries he knew that the armored man did not have long. He’d have to use Natravi instead, but a flowreader was a dangerous person in closed quarters. Provided they were powerful enough, one misstep in their reading could create explosions big enough to destroy everyone in his keep, and from what he'd seen, Natravi was strong enough to do so. But her biggest strength was her eventual downfall for she had him as an enemy, and he’d dealt with powerful flowreaders just like her at the Caeper plains. He’d felt content taking care of her, knowing that his beloved wouldn’t be put in harm's way thanks to the tongue he’d collected in his pocket.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to take care of the other one so he could only hope that Strompf was doing as well a job as him. The hopeless and hapless victims of the chaos needed someone to lead them and with the duchess gone mad in her castle; they needed him. He was still serving, even after all that he’d done, but at least it was under his terms. Under his terms, he was free.

“Hopefully that bastard’s bastard son is dead too. Don’t need another bratty kid to come claiming ownership of the fiefdom.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She wanted him tied in ropes, hanging from a ceiling, and at her mercy. She wanted that man at her mercy, but she had to act meticulously. It wasn’t something she could go at with passion and fury. There were too many other objectives she had to complete before she could get her desires, and the wait for it would make it even more satisfying.

Her father wasn’t faring too well with the city nobles. Though his authority was unquestionable; his popularity had started dwindling as of late. So she knew that if she proposed a chance at defeating the city that was the cause of the people’s lost hope he would give her permission with his support. Her fear; however, was whether he would give her his full support. Though she loved him she knew that her father could be very…passionate at times, like at the annual Domerburg rallies where he would actually froth at the mouth when delivering his speeches. She feared that his passion would lead to the relocation of all their forces towards the west for only one city, leaving the rest of the nation unprotected.

Other than the invasion, she needed to take care of all the undead that would be a hindrance in taking over the city while also kidnaping the duke’s family for leverage. If she knew that pampered king as well as she thought, he would pay whatever he could to take them back, claiming they were his treasured citizens, just like all of the rest. Oh, how chivalrous of him. The only reason he would take them would be for the hope that one day one of them would produce and an heir that would be as strong as William.

While she waited in her carriage for her father’s message she listed her objectives once again before smiling contently. Soon, a horse was heard galloping towards her carriage. Soon her bodyguards face bowed in through the ópen window and spoke in hushed a tone, confirming her suspicions. The hunters were already sent after the abominable mercenary, she had received her father’s support, she was ready and 1500 men stronger.

“Victory to my father.”

“Victory to the Führer.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was dormant. It had been dormant ever since the Traveller had breathed his last. So when it awoke after half a century of inactivity it caused quite a bit of stir.

Previously its students had been living in peace, secluded in the valley and hidden behind mountains on all sides. The elders spoke of the Traveller as a prophet and continued its teachings through their lessons, on the world of science. The Traveller had spoken of a world under threat of creatures made of wood and flesh. A time so far into the future that their grandchildrens' grandchildren would still be dead from old age. But it was their time in which a war like no other was meant to birth these creatures that the Traveller faced. Due to its body no longer capable to hold its magnificence, the Traveller created a host.

Deep under the surface; inside a room where no sound echoed twice, or any light reflected off the surface, the Traveller built its host. Etched with intricate designs and weird symbols, the Traveller's body hung undisturbed until the earthquake happened.

On the night when the sky turned white, a large earthquake trembled the earth and awoke the Traveller.

Now, the men and women of the village go deep underground to hold council. Many went and many returned, but all wore the same face. An expression of hopelessness that eventually morphs into stone and metal-like features. A warning of what was being discussed.

The ball was dormant and had remained such for a long time. But now it was alive and that meant that the war to consume all, the war that would birth these creatures they were facing was approaching. The adults were scared, living in peace for such a long time had made them accustomed to it, but not the elders. The elders had seen what was life like before the prophet, they had fought alongside it in many wars and won many times to create the haven they all lived in now. So, under their guidance and by the power of the Traveller; the children of New Earth were tasked with bringing the chosen to their home.

The task was not easily accepted, but no one dared go against the Traveller's words. So, here they stood at the cusp of the mountain that separated them from the rest of the world when the light of dawn was breaking over the mountains, and prayed:

“May the All-Mighty save us all”