Barracker had woken up from a rough night's sleep. His mind was on the upcoming battle ahead. That same dream, that night. He despised Viktor and knew that if he ever saw him on the battlefield, because of this wretched curse, that things would ultimately be different. He would relish the chance to make him pay for his suffering that he bestowed onto him. Drenched in sweat and his heart pounding like a war drum, he knew it was time to get up.

After getting dressed, Barracker donned a different set of clothes, from what he was used to. His body feeling bare and weirdly vulnerable without his leather armour and his mask on. He forgot what it had felt like to wear anything else and that it would only be for a limited time. Barracker made his way towards the lounge room to find mother Anne sitting with her fellow workers of the orphanage.

He greeted her and the rest of the workers and told her he would be off, to do some errands of his own and then would reunite to see how the rest of his friends were doing. As he thought of his party, Leader James must have thought of him, as well, because that is when he was introduced by mother Anne to a government official, a messenger. He was sent by James and informed the Paladin of where his presence was requested. He would have to be at the Military Centre by 10am. It had been a while since he had been back there.

"What I am trying to say is... sorry Mac, I fucked up and forgot to warn you"

MacKensie gave James a soft touch on the arm. Her smile was small and did not reach her eyes, but it was heartfelt. "I accept your apology, James. Please... do not punish yourself. Everybody makes mistakes." Even if she felt like holding a grudge - which she did not - there was an existential threat outside the walls of Valhiem. If they were to overcome that, then there was no room for rifts amongst them. "As far as I'm concerned, the matter is resolved."

They parted ways, MacKensie going to her room. On her way, she saw a maid and asked the woman if she would relay a request of some dinner to Frederick, downstairs, to have sent to her room. The R&R of the spa could still be felt all through her body and she enjoyed lounging on her bed while she waited for her food. For the first time since coming to Mytheria, she actually missed her cell phone. This would have been a nice moment to browse her socials. Nonetheless, she was content to stare at the wall and think things through, this time with a more optimistic and resilient spin.



Oh no, she thought, after James informed the group of their duties. She'd forgotten to get her Ranger gear repaired and while it was no bother really to go out, in the morning, and do her stretching exercises in the torn clothing, she really would have rathered be presentable when reporting to military officers. But what could she do? Turn up in her fancy casual olive and black? Or funnier yet; her ditzy floral sundress!? (It was still a mystery as to what on earth had made her buy that one.)

She would have to wear her damaged Ranger gear. So, when Fenna went to get her spear and Zell, his weapons and armour, MacKensie went and got ready herself.

On the way through the city, MacKensie was content to walk in relative silence with her friends. Zell had seemed out of sorts, all morning and she was concerned for him. After hearing the bit of conversation between him and James, two days ago, it was clear that something was wrong. She wondered if it was related, but didn't want to pry.

"Makes sense that they'd spread us out as Captain's of soldiers, rather than let us fight as a party."

As Zell glanced sidelong at her, she looked back with curiosity, waiting for an elaboration. Then, once he explained, she understood. "That is true," she agreed as she remembered the extremely short encounter outside the temple with George and his ambush squad. Since their Ascension, they'd been fighting like superheroes. The power of their weapons, the resilience of their bodies... She just hoped that their were plenty of Source Crystal users in the city. Just the sample size of enemies they'd seen so far told her that their were would be plethora of different powerful types of creatures in the army of Saladin.

"We'll be more useful to the defence, this way. And I know that we have the ability to lead. Each of us can do this job. I believe in you both."

"We can do this," Fenna added.

MacKensie nodded to them both. "We can and we will." Because we must.

She was not so confident in herself to lead as she was in Zell and Fenna. Both of them projected such a strong image, she just knew that soldiers would rally around them. She would have to dig deep and try to do the same. This was now her duty, after all. And she started by giving Zell a little elbow upon entering the Military Centre.

"If something is bothering you, you'll only make it worse by overthinking;" His own advice for her, one time. Now she was giving it him back. Her gaze lingered on his for a moment and she gave him a cocky smirk (a smile of reassurance but in his own language.) Once they had an understanding, she turned her attention to the crowd of gathered adventurers and Vice Commander Jeremiah, who addressed them all a short time later.

Yesterday had been exhausting. Among the tons of Mytherian plants to pick from, it turned out Adam picked one of the more difficult ones to create. Sure, there had been a few interesting ones that might have been easier, such as the hauntingly nicknamed “sailor's scourge,” but the one he had chosen was more concerning for the enemy…if learning about it didn't kill him first, that is.

This morning, when he had learned from James that all Druids were to go to Golden Tree Park, the fisherman had wondered why. Listening to Michael Fern explain what was to be done, and seeing all the people there, led to an understanding: this would be another tiring day, only somewhat differently so. The effort looked like a sort of medieval and magical assembly line, ranging from people moving acorns in to people moving lumber out. It was impressive, really.

Sure, Adam could have just grown a few trees and left. It wasn't like he didn't have a reason. This new plant was tough to learn, and the red-eyed man knew he needed more practice. But that was not how he did things. The effort to defend Valheim needed all the help it could get, so Adam found an unoccupied spot and began casting.

After creating a dozen or so oak trees, the Druid felt something surprising: boredom. “How is creating living matter from nothing dull?” and “am I starting to take my powers for granted?” were two questions that ran through his mind. Perhaps the challenge from yesterday gave him a desire to expand his Druid abilities and try new things - certainly a better take than “this is simply repetitive,” which made him feel lousy about himself. 

In the spirit of the former, Adam decided to try growing multiple trees at once. He had made four roots in an earlier battle, so he started there. It became simple after a time, so he branched out to six. And eventually eight. Each one was tougher than the last, but still doable.

Ten was his limit, for now. One for each finger. Perhaps it was being in a situation where he didn't have to focus on anything else besides casting that let the red-eyed man do that much, he thought. Whatever it was, he allowed himself to simply focus on the magic. It was a feeling almost reminiscent of his time on Kragstone Peak, and the meditative nature of the casting made the Druid feel like he was casting more proficiently than usual.

This state of mind kept Adam from realizing something fairly obvious until he was done casting; towards the end, someone had been watching him.

Breakfast continued uninterrupted, although there was a new mood covering their table, no surprise considering the news and the fact that they were still under siege, even if it didn't feel like it. Once everyone finished he bid goodbye to them and started his journey to where he was summoned... with a slight deviation.

The Temple was somewhat full, considering how religious people in this world were that wasn't a big surprise, what was surprising was that Areleth was the one doing the morning sermon, usually such things were delegated to lower-ranked priests unless it was a very special occasion so seeing him high in the podium wasn't nothing if not surprising. He listened to it for a couple minutes before deciding to go for another route, originally he would have made contact directly but it was obvious that this session was not going to end soon, not with the fervor in his voice.

Instead, he had to search for something to write on, eventually obtaining an empty paper from one of the altar boys.

He didn't write everything, and while he was confident it would reach Areleth human curiosity was a big concern. So he just described the situation in general terms, that one of his and Kass' party members had accidentally caught the attention of a denizen of the abyss and that he needed some help and certain resources to get prevent things from escalating. Listed were the materials he needed as well as a promise to cover the costs for them and the help.

Message delivered he tipped the altar boy some coin for his trouble and then made his way to the official that would escort him to the Academy, thankful that they had allowed the side trip in the first place.



The Academy was... imposing.

That was the first thought that crossed his mind the moment he came across it, he recalled the others talking about it but he had always been focused on other things. Now he regretted not having given more attention to those scraps of knowledge.

The official guided him past the big frontal doors and then through a number of hallways until he entered a room that was almost sci-fi like. People were dressed in lab coats and were buzzing from side to side, with the person he recognized as Clarissa, Shields standing in front of one of the bulkier machines monitoring something.

Introductions were quick and curt, the woman not bothering with any fancy speech.

“I’ve asked for you on the recommendation from trusted sources that you are uniquely intelligent and gifted.” She gestured to the cube that was being held in magical stasis amidst different kinds of machinery and computers. “This is technology beyond Mytheria. And you being from beyond Mytheria, puts you in a unique position to help us by providing an intellectual perspective that none of us have.”

...How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that?

MacKensie stood and stared at her cohort, who were stood in salute, for what felt like far too long. While it didn't seem awkward to them, it certainly was for her. As her eyes scanned around, her attention caught the flag flying on the pole next to the regiment of one hundred - A white rabbit on a backdrop of navy blue. How fitting; the blue (her favourite colour,) the agility of the animal on the flag, (also the tendancy to be scared.)

So... we are the rabbits, she thought. Okay. Fine.

Coming from other blocks and other captains was talking, movement, general noises. But inside this vicinity was a sphere of deafening silence that engulfed The Rabbits. It was time to remedy this. She straightened her posture; squared shoulders, chin raised, then cleared her throat. "My name is MacKensie. MacKensie Trydant. Of Second Chance." There were a few murmurs of surprise. "How do you do?" she added politely before moving on, supressing the reflex to bob a quick curtsy. There was probably no room in the military for curtsies. "Please raise your hand if you hold any rank in the army." Four hands went up. "Come forward." Two men and two women emerged from the block. As they did, MacKensie observed them, one by one, holding each of their gazes for moment, guessing their ages, noting their disciplined body language but most of all, trying to project her own image of strength and fortitude. "Please state your names and ranks," she asked, nodding her head to the man on the very left of the four to start proceedings.

"Corporal Maviel Dima, Ma'am." Tiefling man. At a guess, he was young but it was really hard to tell.

"Gregory Grimes, Sergeant First Class, Ma'am." Human man. Couldn't have been older than thirty years.

"Punah Bruuzz, Corporal, Ma'am." Half Orc woman. Probably on the younger side.

"Jennah Aramayah. Staff Sergeant, Ma'am." Another human. Woman. Middle-aged. Valhiem seemed predominantly human, from her experience, so it made sense that there'd be more human representation in the ranks compared with the range of races in Mytheria.

"And the highest rank among you?"

"That would be me, Ma'am," Gregory said, taking a single step forward from the line.

"Thank you. Please," she gestured him to her side and he obliged, then she addressed the other three. "My experience is in battle but not in training. Can I trust you three to operate and oversee the continued development of our block for the rest of today, while I orient myself." She was met with affirmatives, with Staff Sergeant Aramayah taking initiative and command. "Very well. We will reconvene at the end of the day."

With them taking away The Rabbits for training, MacKensie was left with Sergeant Grimes, who was stood to attention until MacKensie gave him the "At ease," saying that she'd heard a few times in movies that featured soldiers or marines, or something of the sort. Honestly, her entire understanding of the military in Mytheria was currently based on fictional content from another world. It was hardly sufficient, but unfortunately all she had.

MacKensie took Grimes for a walk around the facility, asking him to summarize operations of The Military Centre and the garrison, inquiring for detail where she felt it was appropriate for her to know more. Grimes was more than helpful and seemed extremely knowledgeable, able to answer any and every question without any hesitation or doubt in his voice. She asked him about himself and, as she guessed, he was a distinguished soldier who had served as a squire in his youth, converted to soldier at the earliest available point and earned his promotions faster than average due to exceptional performance in the line of duty. She was glad to inform him that he would be her right-hand for the duration of her time as Captain.

Eventually, after a short stint observing The Rabbits in training, with Grimes explaining the discipline exercises her cohort were undertaking, MacKensie and her new right-hand left the Military Centre and went to the location on the city map where The Rabbits would converge when the alarm was raised for battle. There, they continued to talk and build a rapport.

Barracker had been hit with a wave of nostalgia upon entering the military facility. It felt like a long time since he had stepped within these walls. The walls looked the same, they even had a picture, hung on the wall of the sigil of the Royal house. Barracker had remembered the exact day of when he had joined up to the military ranks and confided his decision to girlfiend at the time, Evelyne telling her about the reasons why he wanted to join. That he had a duty to Valhiem, a duty to put his life on the line, to protect the weak and make the world a better place. For the good fight and to follow the footsteps of great men and women, like the legendary Dante Valeron, the chairman of the council of heroes.

A second wave of nostalgia was hitting Barracker even harder, as he stepped foot onto the massive yard, where most soldiers spent the majority of their time in service. The sound, the sight, the smell, felt so familiar. Almost like coming home. As he was briefed on the details on his duty as captain, whilst walking across the yard to meet his block, he saw familiar faces. He nodded a silent greeting but his attention was focused on Vice commander Jeremiah.

“To spread the power of our Source Crystal Users, each of you will Captain 100 men. It will be for you to fight with them, lead them and help reiterate instructions from the Chain of Command.” Commander Jeremiah bellowed.

Moments later, Barracker was acquainted with the block unit, filled with women and men of different age and experience ranges. Before he introduced himself, he thought of what his mentor Odis would do in his predicament. He had eight days, soldiers and conscripts and needed to be efficient and to stick to his values. A more ruthless general would put some weaker troops in the front lines to bare the brunt of damage and save the energy of his best soldiers. This was not an option under any circumstances for Barracker. As hard as it would be, he would try to save every life possible. And then it hit him.

A short time later, Barracker was on the training yard with his unit. He had already made them go and change their weapons, so now every single one of them stood, holding a long hoplite spear and round shield. On their hip would be a short weapon of their choosing, either a short sword or a hand axe.

Barracker shouted for attention, “Warriors we are under a pressing time for Valhiem, we can do this and I will make sure we all cross that line.” he paused for a moment to let it sink in, “We will be doing some physical conditioning, but most importantly, our time would be dedicated to learning the art of ‘The Shield Wall’. This formation will be crucial and make us stronger than sum of our parts. We will fight as one and win as one, so long as each person knows their role.”

Barracker showed them how to handle a Hoplite shield and how in a shield wall you protect the man to your left, from neck to thigh. The Paladin quickly identified his most experienced soldiers and arranged the formation as a rectangle block, seven rows of forteen fighters. He put the remaining two conscripts at the back as the two were barely old enough to vote for the next mayor. His strongest soldiers occupied the front ranks.

Barracker ordered strongly, “Remember your position as this will never change, whenever we form up, unless an injured frontliner needs to be pulled back. In this case the next soldier behind him will step forward to replace the spot, as will the soldier behind them, and so on.”

For most of the day Barracker sat on a tall step ladder, drilling his block on advancing forward as one, back pedalling as one, and also moving left and right, without leaving any holes in the formation.

"If something is bothering you, you'll only make it worse by overthinking;"

Zell lingered on those beauitful blue eyes for a moment before letting out an amused snort, then relented with a tilt of his head. "True." The problem was that overthinking wasn't a choice, right now. He wasn't even sure if all the thoughts he was having were actually his own or some crazy psy-op plants by the Devil inside him. Still, if anyone's cocky smirk could make him feel better, it was MacKensie's. It, surprisingly, suited her so well. "Thanks doll. Not sure what I'd do without you."

He nudged her with his elbow in return, gave her a smirk of his own, then turned his attention to the inside of the Military Centre they had entered, looking around at the place before eyes landing on Vice Commander Jeremiah.

...

The Englishman walked up to his hundred-man block who saluted.

"At ease, Lions," he said casually but loudly. It was decided right then and there: They were The Lions. He didn't care if they had a name already. In fact, he wished someone would try to tell him that they went by something else. "Do you know who I am?" he looked into the eyes of as many soldiers as he could. The question was rhetorical, but he left a pause anyway. "I am a member of the Adventurer Party; Second Chance."

The reaction made it clear to Zell that enough soldiers had already heard of the them, which was perfect, because it would only take a handful to corroborate and spread the word throughout the garrison, in the days ahead. By Fight Time, the whole place would know the name.

"Also known as, The Heroes from the Sky, summoned by Emperor Quintus Young from another universe, who landed in Mytheria to the South just in time to save the village of Hommas and steal classified secret technology from the enemy." Zell moved off his spot and started to slowly move about. He started off just pacing back and forth in front of his soldiers, but eventually started to move through the ranks, his vocal projection good enough to capture the ten-by-ten block of infantry. "Also known as The Slayers of Aurok the Maneater." That one hit nicely. "Also known as the gang who's very first official act as a registered party of the Adventurer's Guild was a Gold Class contract that freed an entire region of Northern Central Mytheria... while being tailed by one of The Witch Queen's best assassins. We killed him, by the way." He stopped and placed a hand on one man's shoulder. "I cut his head off."

Zell strolled back through the ranks to the front again.

"Me?" he continued loudly. "Zell Brooks, Front line Fighter and Weapons Specialist for Second Chance. I know everything there is to know about infantry tactics, melee combat, every weapon, every swing, every stab... Why: I'm practically Ares him-fucking-self in human form." He put his hand on his hips and smirked evilly.

[[[After Image]]]... the soldiers were now looking at the perfect visual of hands-on-hips smirking Zell, until he got their attention loudly.

He was behind them.

"There might aswell be two of me, I'm that damn good."

The infantry unit turned around in amazement to see him, hands-on-hips, smirking - a perfect mirror of the fake image at the head of the block.

"Teleportation?" was a quiet but incredulous comment.

"Only the Wellsprings can offer that kind of power," was another.

He strolled back to the front, through his ranks, the one's closest taking a step aside to make way. Many jaws were dropped - eyes wide.

"We Lions are officially, now, the best block in Valhiem's garrison!" he declared. "Do. You. Get me!?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"There will be no fucking 'Sir's' from now on. And no more salutes either. I am not your superior. I am your brother. A Lion just like you. We are family, now. All of us. You will call me by my name; Zell. Or Captain Brooks, I'll also accept, if you absolutely fucking must. Instead of, 'Sir, yes Sir,' I want you to to roar like a Lion. Oorah! Let me hear it!"

"Oorah!"

Zell was getting hyped off his own BS, getting all gym broey and flexing that low, fists-together arms-n-shoulder-muscles pose. "OORAH! LET ME HEAR IT!"

"OORAH!"

"Nice," his voice came back to normal. "As I said; The Lions are officially, now, the best block in Valhiem's garrison. Not just because of me, either." He looked around and picked at a man at random. "You... where in the city do you live?"

"Cordon Street in the southeast quadrant, si- I mean, Zell, si- I mean... Captain."

"Your parents born here?" Zell asked. He got a yes in reply. "Grandparents?"

"Err... I think so."

Zell was satisfied and nodded, then started slowly pacing again. "Three generations, at least," Zell said, gesturing to the man. "The blood runs deep." And there was his first word. "Blood! The blood of the people, past and present. The blood of the future. That's what we fight for." He threw his arm up and pointed outside the grounds. "Those scummy, evil fuckers out there...? What do they fight for, eh? What do they have to lose, if they lose this battle? I'll tell you what... FUCK ALL! - that's what." Then he smiled and opened his arms to them all. "And that is why we will win, brothers. I've seen it. It's already written. We need only fulfill our end and fight with all our heart."

"Oorah!" one man's voice among them, prompting a second,

"OORAH!" from the Lions. Zell was pleased.

"This land. This soil underneath our feet, was probably once just that... soil. Soil and some settlers' dreams. And now look at it. Look at what's built. Civilisation. Community. Culture. Tradition. All from this fertile soil. This is what we fight for. Because it will be fucking GONE for good, if we don't. This is our land! Our home! Our SOIL!"

"OORAH!"

"Lions. Let me hear you roar; BLOOD AND SOIL!"

"BLOOD AND SOIL!" was the chorus

"BLOOD AND SOIL!" Zell roared back as he paced, snarling at the front ranks.



"We are invincible, Lions. It is written. Our time has come to grow up and fulfill our destiny. To be the heroes of this era." {'...noble...'} "Noble." {...dignified...} "Dignified. And in a thousand years, they we teach about the first city to successfully repel The Witch Queen... about the first time The Empire bloodied the nose of it's greatest threat. They will teach about The Lions that roared on the walls of Valhiem!"

"OORAH!"

"Sergeants," he called out. "Let's get some work done. Combat training. Pair up according to experience level. Let our Lions show their claws."

The Sergeants got to work with gusto and efficiency. Pretty soon, The Lions had their own space in the yard and were sparring. Zell walked among them, making adjustments, giving advice and showing off his deep knowledge of combat to even the most skilled pairs of sparring partners. It wasn't long before he halted the entire session and called for attention.

"Brothers," he started. "We will be fighting on a wall. Space will be hard to come by. Accuracy will be required. Energy conservation for a long and drawn out battle will be essential." With that understood... "I want to see minimal movement. Efficient actions. Tight footwork. Try not to move off your spot. More stabs. Keep your arcs small - No wild swings. Let's go."

And they were off again, Zell continuing to coach. Spotting those he knew he could depend on to be on the flanks. Spending more time with the noobs who had been drafted upon the emergency of the siege. He gave pats on the back and high fives often. Instructed his men and women to do the same for eachother whenever a good landed hit was scored. Arms around the shoulder. Reminders to call him Zell and not Sir. The Englishman was doing his best to completely deconstruct the standard military discipline that was instilled in them, so that they could become... well... basically, a sports team.

They would be different to everyone else: Unique. Their language would be their own: Oorah. Their behaviours would be their own: Family. And in this, Zell hoped they would find a strength of hope, an illusion of grandeur and the courage of a zealot. Togetherness. Absolute faith in him. Invincibility.

According to the odds and the atmosphere, they would need something more than the garrison could currently offer, so why not shoot for the stars?

Typical Zell Brooks. But maybe not quite so typical as usual...?

Maybe.

“Wow, that was incredible! I've never seen anything like that!”

Adam turned his head and saw the source of this statement - a male elf of some sort with tan skin that, based on Earth standards, couldn't have been older than twenty or so - and thanked him.

“How long have you been a Druid for?” the stranger asked. “Uh, I'm Drake, by the way.”

“Adam Phillips, of Second Chance, nice to meet you,” the red-eyed man responded, shaking Drake's hand, “and just a while now, no big deal really.” The deflection for the sake of humility was something the man was grateful for in hindsight, because of what the elf said next.

“That's good. I just got this yesterday.” Drake held up his source crystal, then went on. “If, uh, you have time, could you maybe teach me how to do that? I can barely grow a shrub.” The embarrassment in his voice was palpable, despite it being something completely understandable for the American.

Adam pretended not to notice, smiling while he spoke. “Of course. I barely have any magic left though, so you'll have to visualize what I'm saying at times. Now, don't worry about growing a bunch of trees at once…”

-----

In an hour or so, the elf was creating singular oak trees with ease. Adam was happy for his impromptu student, but he couldn't help but sense that something else was bothering him, so the more experienced Druid asked Drake if he was okay.

After a moment's reluctance, the novice caster answered. “It's, well, it's all so much. Before yesterday I was working in a bakery, and now I'm expected to fight an army? I just don't know if I can do it.”

“I understand,” Adam replied empathetically. “I had my powers given to me in an unfortunate and unexpected time also.” That it was after his own death might have been far-fetched to the elf, so the man did not include that detail. “Still, with the help of my friends, I was able to help a town hold off a skeleton and ogre invasion. Nobody expects you to do this alone. Just do the best you can and we'll all make sure the Witch Queen doesn't win here.”

The little speech seemed to help Drake somewhat, who looked and felt more reassured. “Thank you for everything, Adam” the elf responded. “If you ever need anything, please let me know.

“No problem.” This time it was the fisherman who was a little nervous. “Actually, I do have a question for you…”

None of the television shows and movies had prepared Fenna actually to train recruits and she looked to the left and the right to get an idea of how the others handled it, and then she turned to her second in command. After a short conversation she took the Falcons with her and jogged to where they were supposed to go when they were called for battle.
"Know this place," she told them. "This is where we will be fighting. Archers, you will take positions there and there. Once the close combat starts, join in with swords." She walked forward. "If the enemy reaches this point, we switch to melee. You will practice with a shield and spears for mid-range and swords or long knives for close combat." She recalled a documentary that explained how spears were used quite often in combat and having thought with one herself she understood why. Keeping the enemy at some distance was preferable, especially with the backup archers could provide. "We will practice with our weapons several times today and the coming days, increasing the duration each time. I can't predict how long the battle will last, so we need endurance."
There would be some practice at aiming, but dummies were limited and they needed to wait their turn at the range. While they waited, they could work on strengthening their muscles to keep up the shields and poke at the enemies. Overall, she was happy with how the first training went.

He looked at the device in front of him, their analog for a computer, he hadn't noticed when he came in but the thing was not made of metal or plastic like back home, instead, it looked to have been carved out of some kind of gleaming stone with the 'screen' having a cloth-like texture, It reminded him of the image that old projectors had when he was young. The keyboard was strange, divided in half by a bunch of random keys he didn't know what they did but at least he was able to use the ones with the Mytherian alphabet (Or was it the empire's?).

"Okay lets see..."



Ah couple of hours later he was all but banging his head against the deck. So much data, so many random experiments... according to the terminal the first round of testing had begun after his party brought it in, at the start the methods had been light and not invasive, just brushing it with mana, studying its symbology and running different elements through it. All standard procedures for enemy technology according to some documents he had managed to flinch.

Then the siege started.

The experiments turned more complex, applying different domains to it, limited essence contact, heck! they had even tried some of the dark arts that he knew about. When there was no visible progress the scientists had gotten... creative.

Burning it, freezing it, screaming at it, not looking at it, trying to speak to it, etc. More and more bizarre tests had been conducted in the hopes of finding an angle, which notably hasn't been found yet.

So yeah, these guys were getting desperate and it was showing, if the stink eye some directed to him when they thought he wasn't looking (adventurer senses for the win!) was any indication then it was safe to say that bringing him, an outsider, as a consultant was them scrapping the bottom of the barrel on their long list of experiments.

And now that he was caught up it was his turn to give it a try.

"Let's see"

The cube was just as he remembered, each corner emboldened and each face showing a different engraving. It was as unresponsive as back then but there was something, at the edge of his memory, he was sure the cube was different now somehow, like a feature it had shown before was simply absent.

He scratched his head and sighed, he could already feel the headache coming.

"A loan?" Gildor repeated, to which, MacKensie nodded. "Do I look like a bank to you?"

After a long day, learning on the job to be a Captain, MacKensie had left the military centre and gone back to the Mended Drum. She'd changed out of her Ranger gear, took it to a tailor to be patched up, and was now back in the renowned shop of Gildor Hammerfist. As she had learned the day before; her lax spending habits had left her with not a lot of options, when it came to upgrading her weapon. Gildor had been nice enough to show her everything in the way of one-handed crossbows, from what she could afford, to what was possible. After considering her options, and with the mountainous task ahead, she'd come to the conclusion that 'a new option' was worth a try.

"It would literally be for the battle. All I can afford would be yours and I will return the weapon. You lose nothing in this agreement."

The weapons in question were extremely expensive. MacKensie didn't even have enough gold to purchase the cheaper of the two, let alone pay for the other. Two different types of crossbow - a one-handed crossbow based on the Heavy Repeater that was invented by Dark Elves long ago, but improved upon with new-age tech. The other; light enough to be held one-handed, once cocked, at least, but it could hardly be called a 'one-handed' crossbow. In fact, it could hardly pass as a 'crossbow' at all!

MacKensie would summon all she had in the art of persuasion to negotiate for both. First, she would try for the far more expensive weapon, then if that failed, haggle down to the cheaper, but still expensive, purchase.

The cheaper crossbow - which MacKensie would be able to afford if she earned another gold tier reward or borrowed some money from a friend. 60 gold pieces - something she would have been able to manage, had she been more conservative with her spending. It was a one-to-one upgrade on her current weapon - roughly the same size and weight, yet the enhanced cables and firing string made it more powerful. It also came with a thin magazine that was to be fitted along the length of the barrel, which was enchanted with a light version of the same kind of Source magic that made an Adventurer's inventory able to hold more space and weight than physically possible. What looked like it could hold an extra bolt - one could drop up to four bolts into mag and, once the crossbow had been initially cocked, the semi-automatic repeating action would make for quick and easy shooting.



It was a beautiful weapon and MacKensie wanted it quite badly. However, the other crossbow (if one could even call it that,) was truly something from another world. Priced at 8 Platinum chips, MacKensie would have to kill Aurok the Maneater twice over, on her own, to afford it and still require borrowing money from friends! She was under no illusions that Gildor would likely refuse to part with it, but desperate times caused for desperate measures. She had to try.

The other crossbow was a feat crafted with something approaching the limits of Gildor's famous talents. No expense spared, the finest materials, some of the rarest elemental stones, and a deluge of talent in engineering and enchantment that few could bring to bare. Named after a legendary Lightning Dragon from the Mythic Age, the blacksmith called the weapon...





Finsiraya was a thirty-five inch long sniper's crossbow, which looked like some kind of magical assault rifle, until one held it with the intention of aiming, at which point the limbs, cables and firing string glowed into ethereal existence. It was much lighter than it looked, powerful enough to puncture most heavy armour, and added a lightning effect to any bolt fired, making it a viable match for any kind of enemy. There was no fancy Repeater-tech engineered into it - it was a regular bolt-action - with such power and range that it even had a sight-attachment.

"Absolutely not," Gildor said, shaking his head. "Even if I could trust you, what if you lose it?"

"I would guard it with my life," MacKensie retorted. "If it is lost, then it is likely that the battle is lost and you will be too dead to complain."

There was a moment of dead air as MacKensie held the blacksmith's gaze with a stubborn air and pursed lips. Gildor looked away first, shook his head again.

"Preposterous," was his eventual comment. "You would try to use the siege to lean on me."

MacKensie stepped forward and put her hands on the counter, insulted by the implication on her character. "I most certainly would not," she snapped back. Searching for the right words, she stalled before finding them. "I... I am simply being honest about the situation. I am not familiar with the laws of sale and purchase, here. I only wish to exhaust all possiblities, so that I might be in the best position to save this city." She hoped he understood, and tried to soften her tone, but there was still a residue of offence-taken in her voice. "I am not trying to gain an advantage over you. I am trying to gain an advantage over our enemy." Noticing that residue as she spoke, she stopped to take a breath and collect herself, then continued. "Whether you will do this for me or not, I intend to stand against the invaders and die before I let a single civilian come to harm. On this, there is no compromise. I just thought that maybe, some kind of contract might be a viability, seeing as I am an Adventurer, I might be bound by the Source Code or something..."

"A contract?" Gildor interrupted. "Through the Guild?"

"Hm?" MacKensie was thrown off her train of thought, which had nothing to do with actual Adventurer contracts but something more akin to criminal liability but... "Ummm, sure."

" 'Defend the walls of Valhiem,' " Gildor posited. "With the terms of the loan written into the contract. A special mission reserved for your party only to accept. With a zero-sum reward. I don't think it's ever been done, but... I don't see why it wouldn't be possible. Hmmmmm..."

After getting the answer to his question and making sure that Drake had a handle on basic magic, Adam left the younger Druid so the older one could contribute more to Valheim's defense. Sure, he was basically unable to cast, but that didn't mean there was nothing to do. Instead, the 18-year old approached a group of lumbermen. He saw one drinking water, presumably on break; the worker was a human male, probably in his early 20's, with a muscular build and a big black beard on his face. The man glanced at the Druid, then spoke to him.

“Yes?”

It was brief and to the point, but not rude. Adam could understand that sort of thing, and felt he should respond in kind.

“I was wondering if you guys needed any help. I'm out of magic, but I can still swing an axe.”

“Well alright, take this and we'll see how you do.” Handing a hatchet to the Druid and pointing to a pile of logs, Josh's tone seemed slightly skeptical, but curious as to what this strangely-dressed fellow could do. The fishing pole was impressive, though the rest of the young man confused him.

A minute later, that skepticism had been put to rest, with the Michigander slicing wood as effectively as anyone else there, skills honed by doing similar work countless times in the woods Up North.

In Mytheria these skills would help defend Valheim. Back home, they just helped the family roast marshmallows for s'mores. The thought of nights by the fire made Adam smile, but he kept working, knowing all the same what was at stake.

Zell stood alone on the northeastern wall, in the zone that The Lions were designated to defend in the coming battle. A spot in the central body of the defence force. Close enough to make a dash for the North Gate, should the Left Flank collapse and gate need reinforcing, but right in the thick of the action, so far as Commander Thorn could calculate. There was no one else outside on the wall, only a few watchmen in the nearby tower.

There was no need to be out here. The power of the Ritual Barrier that protected Valhiem prioritised the sky. Every now and then a blast from the enemy Source Cannons, or the pyromancers or catapult fire got through when it came low at the actual city walls. No sense in being exposed, out on wall, increasing your chances of being in the wrong spot at the wrong time and getting hit by a one-off strike.

Zell didn't have much sense. And so he stood alone, feet planted, arms folded, right where he would be in seven days time.

The artillery bombardments had ceased for the last hour. A short break for the enemy. Normal. Zell could only guess that it stretched out the catapult munitions a little farther to have a few small breaks at random during the day and night, while not allowing the mages on Citadel Hill to plan any kind of rest break either. Clever. James said you were a clever old bastard... Saladin, Zell thought. From where he stood, he could plainly see Saladin's forces across the fields. He could see movements. He could hear them.

Of course, it was all just a wriggling mass to his human eyes. Just noise to his human ears. But here on the wall, facing the threat, the fields between himself and them felt tiny. Imagined or not, he could feel the evil. Feel the deadly intent. Feel sharper eyes than his, watching him back.

He was ready.

He slowly drew The Black Sword off his back and held it aloft, the barest trace of a smile on his lips, his green eyes fixed on the enemy camp. There the sword stayed, overhead, pointing to the sky from where Second Chance had come. Saladin? Did your queen tell you that she was begging for our allegiance? Did she tell you that you should fear us? As if on queue, the artillery bombardment started up again.

Then he brought the sword down to point ahead at the imagined foes watching.

...

Whatever business MacKensie had going on with Gildor Hammerfist, it was finished just as Zell came strolling in, the sound of the shopdoor bell ringing to signal his arrival.

"Oh, alright Mac," he greeted with surprise. "Fancy seeing you here. Alright, Gildor."

"Hmmm, you again," Gildor greeted with the enthusiasm of a depressed donkey.

"Remember me?" Zell grinned.

"How could I forget," was the reply. Gildor looked at MacKensie. "You two are from the same party? Quinity have mercy, I should have known."

"Ha," Zell smiled at MacKensie. "You annoying my good mate, Gildor?" Gildor interjected to correct the record that they were not friends. Zell ignored it. "You buyin something?" he MacKensie instead.

When he had a chance to speak to Gildor, he would tell him that his alcohol budget would not leave room to buy the shield he intended, so he would get the cheap buckler he'd seen instead. The small, round shield was terrible for absorbing physical damage, and would crumble under the pressure of a strong strike from a well-made sword, but it's purpose was not for regular combat. It was actually capable of deflecting a portion of mediocre elemental attacks and even fully blocking spells from weaker mages.

"How did your day go, then?" Zell asked MacKensie. He hadn't seen her all day. "Did you get a good crop of fighters?"

When the training for the day was over, Fenna first went to collect her new boots and handed the leatherworker the money after some small talk. They talked about the upcoming siege and Fenna explainer the role that was appointed to her. The jovial Nimuer expressed his complete faith in her abilities. Fenna tried her new boots on and the fit was perfect. She thanked Nimuer and praised his skills before leaving his shop to walk back to the Mended Drum. Sil circled in the air above her, sometimes flying ahead and then sitting on a roof to wait for her to catch up.

On the way, Fenna noticed a group of hooded figures, their clothes were the same as those she had seen come up some stairs in the underground spa. She slowed down a bit.
"People are talking about a disappearance and that the last time he was seen he was in the area of the spa." One of them said.
"We should increase security, no one may go down there," another added.
She couldn't hear the rest of the conversation as they had passed each other, but the words lingered in her mind. Disappearance? She and her friends had appeared in stone coffins from another world, could a disappearance mean a similar thing but to another world? Were they talking about a portal? A potential way home? Down there, that had to be those stairs in the spa. The Witch Queen had talked about a way of sending them home, there had to be more than just one. Wasn't that something Zell had said as well? She decided to check it out and if there was a portal she'd tell her friends about it.

Fenna took a right turn and went straight to the spa. The people at the entrance remembered her well, big spenders were always fondly remembered and when they asked how she was doing she told them about her new role in the defence of the city. It painted her in an even better picture, so she continued with a sob story about a precious heirloom that she had lost and she asked if she could go look for it. They allowed her access and one of the staff went with her to look at the spots in the dressing room that weren't cleaned on a daily basis, in case it was there. Perfect. She made sure to stay behind the employee and when they reached the junction leading into a "staff only" corridor, she went over the chains and quietly walked towards the stairs where the hooded people had come from. By the time she went down, the employee backtracked to see where she had gone.

The stone stairs led into a cave, her footsteps echoed as she went further in. There were lightsources at the wall, similar to other lights she had seen in the city, which meant people did walk here more often. There was a faint humming or buzzing sounds ahead, and a cold flickering light. At the end she rounded a corner and entered a room and she stopped. In the center of the room was something she could only describe as a tiny sun. It was mostly bright white light, but all colours appeared and disappeared on the surface and danced across it in irregular patterns. It was beautiful. Fenna approached it to have a good look. Was this a portal? She didn't want to touch it, but it was mesmerizing. The air felt heavier with every step she got closer. Was it even possible to get to it? She leaned on her spear and reached out a hand just to feel how different it was at arms lenght.

She didn't hear the footsteps echoing behind her. Hooded people were rushing towards the room.

The energy fluctuated and like a solar flare some of the energy arched out, making contact with her hand. It travelled through her arm, her body and out of her other arm, through her spear into the ground. It felt scorching hot and ice cold at the same time. It was over in a moment.

"H-hey, y-you can't be here," someone said and Fenna turned around. The hooded figures.
"Oh, sorry, I'll leave," Fenna said and she walked towards them, trying to play it cool. She did not expect the group to step aside and let her pass. She now had a good look at their faces; she recognised the tatoos she had seen the first time, all strange symbols she didn't know the meaning of. And for some reason they stared at her, jaws dropped, disbelief in their eyes. Like she was some kind of fish walking on land. She ignored it, her head hurt and she just wanted to get some fresh air now.

Inside her mind she felt Sil's fear. "Calm down darling, I'm on my way back," she whispered. What had gotten her falcon so agitated? She walked up the stairs, past the front desk and stepped outside. Sil immediately came down, took hold of her shoulder and upper arm and used her beak to touch Fenna's hair and cheek. "It's okay, I'm fine," she assured the falcon. Sil refused to let her go and Fenna walked back with her spear in one hand and the falcon on her shoulder.

All she wanted was to go to bed, she had a massive headache and her body was sore as if she had the flu. She didn't even notice her spear emitted a faint silvery light in the darkness of the night. When she reached the Mended Drum she went inside, she didn't stop to see if any of her party was in the common room and she didn't realize Sil was still holding on to her. She went straight to her room and flopped down on the bed as soon as it was in sight, still in armour, dropping her spear on the ground. Sil flew up and settled on the nearby chair.

At first she was just glad she could let her sore body rest, but sleep soon came over her.

The more Gildor thought about the proposition, the more MacKensie liked her chances. When he eventually spoke, it was to tell the frenchwoman that he could not part with Finsiraya. MacKensie immediately bowed her head graciously. "I understand," she said. "The other crossbow, however... surely it is not unreasonable to make the deal for this. I will still give you all the money I have, and not a copper less."

MacKensie counted out the remains of her funds in front of him to hopefully convey transparency. An experienced businessman like Gildor would probably be cold to such a show. It's not like she couldn't have just left some money behind at The Mended Drum. Still, she would endeavor to prove she was not up to any tricks. The two agreed a price, with Gildor kind enough to leave her some silver to get by.

"What's the name of your Adventurer party?" he asked and she answered clearly, giving her name and the name of James too. "I will go to the Adventurer's Guild, this evening, and if a contract can be made, it will be waiting for your leader to accept. After that is taken care of, come back to the shop and we will make the exchange."

"You do me a great service, sir," MacKensie told him, placing a hand on her heart. "I am forever grateful."

Gildor nodded as he brought out a pen and some paper from behind the counter to note down the details she'd given him. It was at this time that the little bell on the door sounded and MacKensie looked over her shoulder to see, "Zell."

"Oh, alright Mac..." She smiled as he approached, then watched the interchange between the two men with some amusement, covering her chuckle with her fingers when the focus was turned on her, by Zell, while Gildor strongly objected to the idea that he and Zell were friends. "You buyin something?"

"Um, not exactly," she told him, not sure if she should give details on the deal she'd made with Gildor. For one thing; it wasn't even a done deal yet - the guild may not allow this kind of thing. And secondly; Gildor might not appreciate her putting ideas in other customers heads that they could pester him to give them loans too. "I seem to be a little short on cash for the weapons upgrade I'm looking for, but there is hope yet that I might be able to work something out for the upcoming battle." Hopefully that explanation would suffice, at least until they were not in front of the blacksmith. "And yourself?"

When Zell gave the affirmative and turned his attention to Gildor, starting with declaring budgetary constraints, MacKensie could only smile. "I too have been irresponsible with my spending," she said. When Gildor went to fetch the buckler shield that Zell had requested, the two friends talked whilst they waited. "Yes, I believe my block are a good bunch. They vary in skill, but I cannot fault their heart or their work ethic." She crossed on foot over the other as she stood there, putting a hand on her hip. "The day has been long, though. A little overwhelming at first, but I think, by the end of the afternoon, I had a good grasp on what is expected of me. I have a man - Sergeant First Class - who I have made my right-hand. He has been a boon, today. Smart, experienced and helpful. With him, I think I will be fine. My duty, from tomorrow onwards, will be; to be a mouthpiece for his commands. His suggestions will be the orders I give. I am to lead the block because of my strength as a Crystal Bearer. This, I can do. But I would be wrong not to delegate control of our days leading up battle, to my more experienced Sergeants."

She wished she had more to offer, and perhaps she would find ways to be of more help in the coming days, but she was a simple Ranger. Leading by example on the battlefield was always going to be her strongest suit.

"How about you?" she asked before smiling as she assumed, "I'm sure you got along just fine, no?" Zell was a perfect fit to be an infantry commander - loud, brash and brave, and on top of that; a sharp mind for the tactical elements of combat. "My block is on the Right Flank," she also added, when appropriate. "And you?"

Once Zell's business was concluded... "All set?" ...MacKensie reiterated her gratitude for Gildor's help and bid him a good evening, so that she and Zell could take their conversation outside. "I'm eager to know what James and Adam have been up to." The doorbell jingled once more as the two left the shop. The darkening sky signalled evening. There was still a warm breeze, though. "I wouldn't expect them to be on the front lines, but I still have no idea how the magic-wielding forces will be deployed. The flexibility of James with his blessings and Adam with his plants, will be boundless. A keen strategist's dream, I imagine."

Barracker sat in his usual spot, surveying his garrison, from the step ladder. Most of the time, he would be stationed alongside whoever was struggling, correcting where they went wrong and positioning himself where they stood, so that they would have a better idea and could mirror his movements. Getting stuck in himself with some of the training to show, he was not above them and would share the hard work. He appointed a second in command to share some responsibility in correcting some of the group's form. This person went by the name of Warren Burns, a Paladin who had not yet been blessed with the gift of the crystal and had not expected to be picked due to his history with the vampire.

When the two finally had free time to talk and discuss the plans of this one-hundred fighters. Warren mentioned something he did not quite think he would ever hear from his mouth. “So our name of this group. What are you thinking in that head of yours?” Warren said as if it pained him.

Barracker thought about it, and smirked to himself.

The look on Warren’s face showed he thought he was being laughed at and he got defensive. “What’s with the face, I’m confused.”

“Well your brother mentioned our mentor as being a turtle and we also are using a shield wall. So what do you think of that as our name?” The two chuckled in silence to themselves.

“Hmmmm… The mighty fucking turtles aye!” Warren took a minute to ponder, then spoke. “If I may be frank as always with you. This is your block and this is your strategy for the siege, how about something closer to home. The bats. We will swarm our enemies.”

“I must admit, I do like either but…”

“It would be nice to go by the bats and not feel like you’re forgetting your mentor, which you are definitely not. We all remember how good of a Paladin we fought and trained under. It might feel like you need to do all that to remember him, but he’s not going to think lower of you. I will, but I’m not Odis, thank fuck for that.” They both laughed. “Living up to that old guy's name, I sure wouldn’t want too”

Barracker took the compliment, and gave a nod before standing up. “The Bats, it is.” Then the Paladin turned to his Garrison and called for attention. “Warriors. We are from now on, known as ‘The Bats’ and we will swarm our enemies and drive them into the arms of Hades”.

After a long day of training and giving their all, Barracker gave leave to his garrison and they would return back here by eight in the morning. “Put your feet up, you have earned it. Hug your sons and daughters, give your other half a kiss.” This would give them time to see their loved ones and to see in a physical sense, who they were fighting for and to show his soldiers why they were fighting. This sentiment made him think of Evelyne, last time he held her hand, so soft in comparison to his own. The last time he touched his lips on hers. That distinct smell of Jasmine and Amber notes, her favourite scent. He knew what his own reasons were for fighting. Most of his family were tucked away inside the Temple of the Quinity, hopefully Katrina and Krillen were safe wherever they were in Mytheria. As for Evelyne, she was most certainly safe in Capitol City, but he was starting to regret that he pushed her so far away. I never should have let her go.

Once everyone collected their things and left it was just Warren and Barracker. He felt a certain tension from Warren but put it down to worry for his brother’s safety. Barracker, before leaving, said one last thing and that was that his brother would be alright, he has adventurer’s and civilians looking out for him and counting on him.

I will collect my equipment tomorrow, see what everyone else has done today.

"Yes, I believe my block are a good bunch. They vary in skill, but I cannot fault their heart or their work ethic."

"Yeah," Zell agreed. "Got a similar situation meself."

He nodded along as he listened to MacKensie's day. He was glad she'd found someone that would help her out, but truth be told, he was confident that she had all the qualities required to take full charge, if she was really pushed. MacKensie was a well-rounded woman - skills, brains, aura, heart... she was better than 'a mouthpiece.' But it was only the first day on the job. Zell had a feeling she would find her unique voice, for her soldiers, in the week ahead.

"I am to lead the block because of my strength as a Crystal Bearer. This, I can do. But I would be wrong not to delegate control of our days leading up battle, to my more experienced Sergeants."

"Well," Zell started, folding his arms. "Knowing when and where to delegate is an aspect of good leadership. It takes keen sight to see the strengths of those around you. And wisdom to take advantage of that. But listen; don't be too quick to take a back seat to experience, all the time. All the experience in the world hasn't won these dudes a single battle yet, you get me?" He quickly checked over his shoulder to make sure Gildor was out of earshot. He'd rather not offend the blacksmith - a man who was keeping the secret of The Black Sword under wraps. "We've been brought to this world because they're all so bloody lost, they'd put trust in lottery-picked randomers from the universe next door."

That was the best way he could put it, without getting all corny about her 'having a hidden power within her heart' or some shit like that. He did want to say 'some shit like that' though. Ell-oh-ell.

"How about you?" she asked before smiling as she assumed, "I'm sure you got along just fine, no?

"Ha! You know me too well, darlin." Zell was all teeth with the closed-eyes grin he flashed. "My guys and gals have proved quite... what's the word... receptive, to my err, infectious confidence." He laughed as he thought about the day. "I just wish I had more time. When the time comes for The Lions to show their worth, our roar will drown out the din. Mark my words." He heard Gildor come back and wheeled around to pay for his shield. "Thanks, Gilly, bruv."

As Zell went to take the shield, Gildor pulled it away and looked extremely serious. "Never. Call me that. Again." Zell froze up for a second. "That's two things you cannot call me. 'Your friend' and especially not 'Gilly.' Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, boss." Zell held out his hands for the shield and Gildor held on for a further moment to stamp home the point, then handed it over and stepped away to sort out the money. Zell peeked at MacKensie and shot her the look of a cheeky schoolboy in trouble. It was then that his mind reminded him of what he'd thought when he first walked into the shop: MacKensie was dressed in casual clothes, looking extra amazing (she looked regular amazing even in ripped up Ranger gear.) It made him think of an idea he'd had a while ago, back when touring Valhiem for the first time.

What was that place called again? Zell thought. The Nightingale, that's it.

"Err..." Light-speed thinking - engaged. "Gildor, any chance I could trouble you to do a little job on my armour? Just a dent or two needs knockin out. A bit of a clean. Nothing too much." Gildor looked Zell up and down, then nodded and gave him a small price. Zell agreed. "You're a star, bruv. Do you mind if I jump in the back and take it off now?"

Gildor led Zell into the back and the Englishman stripped his armour pieces off, leaving himself in just his black trousers and white shirt, which he proceeded to rub down with his hands, trying to iron out the creases. He popped his collar a few times to give it some volume, then turned it down neatly and proceeded to start messing with his hair a bit. "Gildor, could you err... spare a belt strap for my sword. So I can where it on my hip?" Gildor narrowed his eyes at Zell's lowered tone. Or maybe it was mention of The Black Sword. Either way, his reply was that he was adding it to the price. Zell winked at him as he undid his the top button of his shirt. "Cheers mate."

Zell finally emerged from the back room, looking a little bit like a pirate, but definitely more suitably presentable to walk up those fancy steps to The Nightingale.

"All set?"

MacKensie reiterated her gratitude for Gildor's help and bid him a good evening, so that she and Zell could take their conversation outside. Zell too thanked the blacksmith and let him know that he would return tomorrow for his armour. "I'm eager to know what James and Adam have been up to."

"Yeah, should be interesting to hear about their day," Zell agreed. It wasn't lost on Zell that the military garrison was completely bereft of magic users. Perhaps The Academy had it's own Defence Division. Zell hadn't heard any information to say either way.

"I wouldn't expect them to be on the front lines, but I still have no idea how the magic-wielding forces will be deployed. The flexibility of James with his blessings and Adam with his plants, will be boundless. A keen strategist's dream, I imagine."

"Oh jeez, Adam and James might, alone, be the turning point of this battle." The warm breeze was nice and after spending day-after-day in armour, Zell always felt so light and free without it on. Being with MacKensie always lightened the mood too. "I can see it now. Adam goes Bear-mode, starts throwing giant trees, firing laser beams and whatever else. Saladin has his most powerful cronies charge. James chants some wildly random blessing that turns the bad guys into clucking hens and Adam to double his size." The visual was hilarious for Zell, especially as he imagined, "Sil flys into the picture, swipes up a chicken and flys off with it." He laughed. "Seriously though, magic is wihout-doubt gonna be a decisive factor in this battle. Especially our two lads." Zell shook his head with awe as he thought about just how powerful Adam and James had proven to be. "Their impact will be immense."

Zell was sure to take a subtle lead when the time came to turn towards the street that would head towards The Mended Drum, instead he headed towards the roads on the other side of the river. "Just making a quick detour," would be his excuse if she questioned their direction.

After many hours of effort cutting lumber for the upcoming siege, the work day had ended. Josh and the others invited Adam to join them for drinks, but the Druid had to decline. He had something to arrange, and it should probably be done sooner rather than later. The red-eyed man did promise to join them tomorrow night though, which satisfied the group. It wasn't a big deal to him, but they had all been impressed by the young caster who stuck around after spending most of his magic to help out. It was the least they could do, the team had concurred.

-----

As Adam walked through Valheim, he heard part of a conversation. Unfortunately, one of the voices was instantly recognizable, annoying as usual.

“...and supposedly they're really strong, this Second Chance. Have you heard of them?”

The voice came from someone in a crowd of eight or nine people. In front and center of the group was a familiar-looking gnome with a curly mustache who responded, clearly thrilled with being the focus of attention.

“Yeah, I've met them, and Second Rate is a better name for that Bronze Tier trash. My team got assigned an escort mission for them once. Despite managing to sneak them into the city for Gods-knows why reason, the Fighter and vampire Paladin almost attacked me. I scared them off though.” Xavier twirled his mustache for a few seconds, letting this “fact” sink in, before continuing. “The swordsman was vulgar, and the type of idiot who's only good for taking damage. And can you believe it, a vampire Paladin? It's a disgrace to the Gods. Must be some kind of Witch Queen agent, though infiltrating a party of weaklings is hardly tough. Not like me, the genius Druid of Silver Arrow. I'll become platinum soon en-ugh!”

The gnome’s story was interrupted by him getting tripped by a small vine, carefully risen from a crack in the brick pavement of Valheim. And walking up to the fallen person was Adam Phillips, looking down upon him both figuratively and literally.

“I think a real genius would have sensed that plant, like the half dozen pinwheels four houses east.” There was a hint of humor laced in this statement, unlike the next - that would be pure seriousness, spoken with a tone daring the gnome to try anything. “Listen, you can insult me all you want, but nobody messes with my friends.” Saying this, the red-eyed man took his leave, resuming his walk to his destination.

Adam wasn't the only being there with a red feature now, as the laughter of the crowd caused Xavier's face to blush. And after the gnome made a flimsy excuse and left, he realized he was heading east. Reluctantly he looked at the building the fisherman indicated and was horrified to find six gold and silver flowers by the front door.

A couple hours later and he was all but thrown over a table looking listless at the ceiling.

Around him were the rest of the research team in similar positions, the feeling of defeat permeating the air. It hadn't taken long for the other members to engage him when he started sprouting ideas, desperation was wonderful for team bonding apparently, and despite some of his weirder suggestions they followed through. But even after all manner of weird experiments the cube remained as immutable as ever, floating gently and appearing dead to the world, even after singing to it, covering it in milk, insulting it, talking dirty, all equally useless.

"What if we-"

"We already did that"

Conversation started only to be shot down mercilessly. Both of the speakers looking chagrined for daring to speak.

He let out a breath and directed his gaze to the only person standing upright.

Alone Clarissa Shields remained unbowed, head raised high and eyes centered on one of the screens, perusing some of the gathered data with single-minded focus.

He couldn't see her expression but just from her posture he could imagine the intense look in her eyes, he had known her for less than a day and he could already picture it, she was scary like that. Releasing a grunt he moved from his resting position until he was sitting on the table with his knees crossed, facing her direction.

"So what is next Chief?"

He waited a couple seconds without a response, at first he thought that she hadn't heard him, he had seen the same thing happen with a couple of the other researchers, but just as he was about to speak again she turned-

Someone gasped.

He may have only known Clarissa Shields for less than a day but even he could say that the dull gaze wasn't meant to be on her face, tired eyes and a grimace completed the unnatural visage of the proud Director, beside him the other researchers were looking at her with varying degrees of dread. Dread that he shared.

"I..."

Her face cycled through a thousand emotions before settling in a disconcerting blank gaze, the next words came in a neutral tone, low and measured as if she was simply commenting on a pebble beside the road. But her eyes refused to make contact with anyone.

"...I do not know"

Despite the low volume in which those words were uttered one could be pardoned for thinking someone had been shot, silent like a grave and with as much enthusiasm, the reality of the situation was falling upon the heads of the researchers with the only sound being that of the Director turning once more to stare upon the screen.

Someone left.

Followed by someone else.

More and more people followed the example, maybe to cry or to go see loved ones, he could bet at least one was planning to go rage away from prying eyes, but even as the last one departed he couldn't spare them a look, too focused on the Director's back

Before long there were only two people left within the room.

"You should leave too"

She didn't turn around.

He let out another breath, fuck his life man, why did he keep getting into these situations? Right whole 'Hero from another world' stuff, frankly he felt as if he had been scammed. A hand messed with his locks as he mulled over his response. Words stolen from a booklet in his room.

"The strong man may attempt to divert the river, but it is the da-"

"Spare me your sermon, Priest, I can not afford distractions"

"Ha!"

An incredulous laugh left his mouth before he could help it. Here he was about to spill a bunch of religious bullshit just to be cut off before he could begin, fucking hell this bitch was awesome. She was looking at him again, an eyebrow raised and the dull look in her eyes hiding faint irritation.

"Hahahaha.., sorry Chief, just caught me by surprise" He wiped a tear from his eye, man it felt good to laugh like that, if only the situation wasn't so bleak "But for reals, I have a vested interest in Valheim not falling so forgive me if I decide to stick around for a little longer"

She looked at him with scrutiny before lightly shaking her head from side to side.

"You have already proven you do not have the solution, it would be more efficient if you directed your efforts somewhere else"

Cold and harsh. As expected of one who held the title of Director of Research and Technology at the esteemed Valhiem's Academy, why, if she was any lesser he had no doubt one of the countless bottom feeders would have tried to supplant her already. Okay fine, maybe he was being dramatic but it had been a stressing last few days and he was due some form of release, if being a dramatic bitch was what brought him comfort then so be it.

He stretched to loosen his stiff muscles, hours of barely any movement had let his muscles feel tense, Ascension brought countless benefits but it didn't correct a bad posture.

"It would"

"But you have no intention of doing so"

"I do not"

He could practically feel the frustration oozing from her, the last days of stress and sleepless nights catching up to her and churning her emotions to a more volatile state, a lesser person would have exploded days before but it was a testament that even with his goading the Director still managed to get her emotions under her control. Both had seen it countless times before, inters thrust into positions they were not prepared for and balking under the responsibilities/New soldiers losing their nerve the first time their lives were at risk. Eyes closed she seemed to be contemplating something, after a couple seconds she looked at him again having come to a verdict.

"Very well, if you are determined to remain here I will put you to work, do you have any idea?"

Ah shit, she started with the difficult one.

"Truth be told I don't" He grimaced harder "You already tested for a faith reaction with Areleth and he is more versed in the stuff than I am "

"So you are useless then"

Ufff, right where it hurt.

"I-i would't sayyy -okay yes" It racked both parts of himself more than he was willing to admit "Butttt, I have been told that I am particularly blessed by the gods, so if nothing else you can use me as a good luck charm, I am practically Jesus you know?"

Another emotion surged from the sea of frustration and worry.

She snorted, the reference flying over her head but the tone more than enough to paint a picture of her mind. Even with her admittedly lacking social skills she could see what he was trying to do, if nothing else working with higher spirits was bound to produce better results.

"I don't think you would be much help even if you were Lady Sillagy in disguise"

The response died in his lips.

It was tiny, minuscule, and he almost thought he had imagined it but his instinct was screaming at him to not dismiss it. He jumped from the table and grabbed the Director by her shoulders, their eyes met and he tried to impart all the seriousness the situation merited.

"Repeat it" He ordered.

Dark eyes widened slightly before focusing on him, looking at his reaction, analyzing it and coming to some conclusion in a fraction of a second. Then the words spilled from her mouth.

"I don't think you would be much help even if you were Lady Sillagy in disguise"

Another snort followed by the same words said in the exact same tone, with accompanying matching gestures and facial expressions, had he not been as focused he would have applauded her performance. As it was he immediately latched onto his sixth sense, the same strange feeling that had accompanied him ever since he had cast his first Blessing.

...

Maybe it had been his imagination after all, there wasn-No! There! It was at the edge of his perception but hiding from him, no, hiding was not the right word, camouflaging, blending it, dodging his attention, telling him it wasn't there.

Lying

The first real piece of the puzzle slotted in his mind, too small to show the whole picture but large enough to deduce the following shape.

He opened his eyes and found himself looking at someone reflecting his own hope back to him.

Zell had kept MacKensie talking, so she had no suspicions until the realization of what was happening hit her all at once. In the darkness of evening, she did not notice the amazing structure of a building that was The Nightingale. She did not see the manicured hedge-rows or polished rails of the elevated garden and outside area. She simply went up the steps with Zell and, at the top, the fancy restaurant, bar and function hall was upon her. She was awestruck by the beauty of it all. Through the massive windows, she saw the immaculate hall inside. The beautiful furniture, the fancy gowns and suits of the patrons, the well-dressed staff, the small chamber orchestra of 10-15 strings and wind. Her heart fluttered as, for a moment, she felt like she was back home in Lyon - home for the holidays, a brief break from Uni - and attending the Winter Ball.

And in an instant, she was back in reality and realised her situation. "Zell, I cannot," she said.

Zell turned around, a mischievious smirk on his face. "What's up?"

"I cannot date you, Zell. I am in no position to think about such things as this. It is all I can do to focus on getting through this fantastical nightmare we are in," she explained. Now that she said the words out loud, to one of the two men in her heart, she knew she'd made a decision. She would firmly reject them both and be rid of this cloud hanging over her. It was the right thing to do. "I would be irresponsible to complicate matters, when our situation - the duty thrust upon us - is already so difficult. I must not fall... She shook her head, unable to finish that last sentence. So she settled for; "I cannot accept this."

Zell nodded his understanding, but the smirk didn't leave his face. "Sure. No problem. It's just; I owe you a drink, is all. Maybe two. Probably just one. And you definitely owe me at least two. I figured, we may aswell settle debts," was his counter. "It doesn't have to be a date. Just two friends having a couple of drinks."

MacKensie eyed Zell suspiciously. "Zell, I am serious," she said with urgency.

He raised his hands in surrender. "I know. I hear you, loud and clear. What? We can't have a bit of food and drink as friends?"

"As friends," she echoed. "It is not a date." It was almost a question.

"As friends," Zell repeated easily. "Not a date."

There was a bit of a silence between them. In the background, they could hear the fine music and gentle chatter. Behind Zell, she could see the host at the entrance, looking at them both expectantly. Zell was also waiting for her to respond, and so she did. "You owe me three drinks."

Zell let out an amused breath, then screwed up his face in thought. "I do not remember three."

And so their usual banter reconvened as they quietly argued about each time one had saved the other's life, between asking for a table and waiting to be seated.

"I grabbed the branch."

"So you say, but I very-much remember James speaking on the matter, afterwards - James, ever the voice of reason, thanking me for saving your silly behind."

As they took seats, Zell thanked the host and then got right back to arguing. "This is a conspiracy. Fake news. Corruption in the court. And anyway, if that nonsense counts, then I'm sorry but the one on the Temple roof certainly doesn't."

MacKensie smiled confidently. "Ah, so you do remember that one. I'm glad I did not even have to bring it up."

"I remember you shooting my opponent right before I was about to deliver a killing blow. That's just cheating. If you can't even admit that I single-handedly saved you and everyone else from the ass-kicking Zigmund was giving you, then I can't allow you No.3."

They finally settled at an impasse with a shared chuckle, ordered some wine and, after they got their drinks, the waiter took their order for the meal. In spite of being incredibly underdressed for the venue, MacKensie was in her element. The music was very classical and perfect for the ambience, not too intrusive. The fashion and opulence was just her kind of vibe. She was very-much enjoying herself.

Their conversation was nothing Second Chance-related. It ranged from London to Paris. From Psycology to Sociology. From Football to Archery. From older sisters to little brothers. Talking was always something Zell was good at. He could talk for England and for ever. But getting along with MacKensie was another level of ease and free-flowing conversation. She was so admirable. Her background so interesting. Her laugh like music and her accent like silk for the ears. The ever-cocky and unwavering Zell Brooks was like a love-sick puppy hiding behind the increasingly crumbling visage of bravado and strength.

MacKensie had forgotten there was even an army outside the city walls, or that there was a Source Crystal in her hand. One would see it in her face as she enjoyed her glass of wine, Zell's company and the wait for their food.

"Those are some lovely earrings." MacKensie smiled and thanked Zell for his compliment, touching her ear briefly. "You didn't arrive in this world with them."

"No," MacKensie replied. "I bought them while out with Fenna and Lillianna after our first night here."

Zell chuckled as he realised that MacKensie wasn't lying when she commented that she'd been frivolously spending just like himself. "Rich girl loves shopping?"

MacKensie raised her eyebrows and showed her palms. "Guilty." That made Zell laugh out loud. A nearby table looked over, noticed with bemusment how Zell and MacKensie were dressed, then shook their heads and looked away. "It was a small comfort to be able to walk about the market and indulge. This world is so reminiscent of our own."

"Tell me about it," Zell said. "I would never expect a world where you fight with swords and crossbows to have electricity and plumbing, let alone computers and modern products."

MacKensie agreed. She looked dreamily at the dance floor where half a dozen men and women, some of them not human, were doing something resembling the Waltz. "Even the music and dancing is so similar. It is like a distorted mirror of home." There was a lull of thoughtful silence as Zell followed her gaze to the dancers and arched an eyebrow. This was not his idea of dancing. But MacKensie was enthralled. "This is a beautiful ballad."

"You like this kinda stuff?" the Englishman asked in an accusatory tone. "You are such a princess," he chided playfully. "Not my scene, tee-bee-haeche. Looks a bit daft to me."

MacKensie was almost offended. "Really? But it is so refined." Zell was not convinced. "To learn ballroom dance is to learn a tapestry of one's culture and heritage, in France," she told him. "There is so many century's progression of art and fashion, within each dance, to be felt and experienced." Again, love-sick puppy Zell was captured by her passion and interesting perspective. "To dance this way is to walk through history in the footsteps of those that came before you."

Wow. Zell had never thought about dancing in such a way. This was probably because his kind of dancing involved a lot of jumping around with guys or grinding with girls, to music much louder than this, much different too. It was like MacKensie was from another world - no pun intended.

"Show me," he finally said, drawing her attention from the floor and back to him with surprise. "The tune is still going. We won't be the only ones on the floor. But there's enough space that it'll only be your toes I'm stepping on. Give me a lesson."

Nine times out of ten, MacKensie would have refused, but this moment fell into that elusive other ten percent. She was well into her second glass of wine and so had enough courage that she simply couldn't resist a chance to enjoy a piece of home. She smiled and tentatively got out of her seat, Zell mirroring her.

"Something super basic, I'm not a fast learner."

MacKensie stopped in space on the floor. "Okay, this is as simple as it gets. Even a gorilla like you should be fine. Place your hand here and here." One hand high on her waist, with her hand on his shoulder. And the spare hand they placed lightly against eachother's, in the air. "Now we step to the music, in the shape of a triangle. Methodically. In rhythm." Back and to the right, she stepped. Then left. And back to their orginal position to complete the triangle. "And turn. Now again. Step, two, three, step, two, three... and turn..."

There were a number of mistakes before something actually resembling a Waltz began to take shape. "You are getting it," were her words of encouragement.

"Shush, woman. I'm concentrating, over here," he rasped with pretend-annoyance.

They shared a giggle. Their food arrived but they did not stop dancing until the music came to it's conclusion. Neither were happy that this time would come to an end, as the gliding motions became easier and they could focus on eachother and the music. But come to an end, it did. Graciously, they parted and clapped like everyone else on the floor, then went to sit down to eat. They complimented the food and enjoyed dinner with some more light conversation.

"So, is your family proper upperclass then?" Zell asked curiously as he ate. "Like... proper?"

"Mm," MacKensie answered, covering her mouth briefly with her fingers to finish her bite before answering properly. "My father is an entrepeneur and self-made man. But my mother is from money. She, in fact, can trace her family line all the way back to the aristocracy - survivors of the French Revolution. You have heard of this?"

"Err, yeah, it rings a bell, but I don't know anything about it," Zell admitted. "An important historical event, I'm guessing?"

"Yes." Conflicting feelings of left wing ideals and right wing parents hit her. It wasn't nice so she was quick to summarize and change topic. "Most people celebrate it, in France, but some do not. With great change comes... a lot of violence."

"Makes sense," Zell replied, sensing MacKensie's discomfort. "Well, it is my honour, m'lady, to have the privilege of this non-date."

Her eyes flared. "This is not a date."

"That's what I said," Zell teased. "Just two young and beautiful people enjoying the finer things in life."

"You are so big-headed," MacKensie shot back with a smirk.

"Wouldn't you be, if you were me? Look at me."

"I cannot believe you can say that, unironically. You are something else, Zell Brooks." She shook her head. "I suppose humility would not suit you."

Zell suddenly got serious, taking the last bite of the micro-portioned meal and putting his cutlery down. He sat forward and leaned an arm on the table. "Humility? Try this on for size." What came next was a complete change in tone. "Looking at you makes me realise that I'm not even close to the man I want to be. Just knowing you are near... I wake up everyday and tell myself that I'm gonna strive to be better. And I could do this until my hair turns grey. And I still won't measure up to be someone worthy of you." His voice was sorrowful by the end. "But I'd still try."

MacKensie was left in shock, eyes blinking, cheeks burning, lost for words. Zell held her gaze, sincerity in his eyes. By the time she found her voice... "Zell, I..."

"Are you gonna eat that?"

MacKensie looked down at her plate, then back at him, mood completely shifted once more. And she burst out laughing. "You are a pig, Zell," she reprimanded, wiping her watery eye.

"Jeez, I'm only askin."

"It is bad enough manners that you scoff down your food, but now you are rushing me too. I will not allow it." Zell grinned. "Get dessert, if you are still hungry."

"I don't do dessert. I'm sweet enough."

"Kill me now."

After dinner, they took their final glasses of wine to the second floor garden balcony and leaned against the rail to look at the blackness of night. The air had become crisp, as opposed to the warm breeze of the evening. "It is so late. I hope you know the way home."

"I'm not gonna lie," Zell sighed. "I have no idea."

"Sacre bleu."

"I think this place has rooms for rent. I should have enough money left for two rooms. We can head back to The Drum in the morning." Zell sipped his wine and shrugged. "Might aswell spend the money. All of this could be gone, next week."

MacKensie tilted her head in an exaggerated motion. "Maybe. But I am not so ready to die again. I still remember the last time. It is not my happiest memory." She smiled sorrowfully.

"I'm just saying..." Zell started apologetically. He didn't mean to kill the mood. "...What I mean is: It should be over for us. And he here we are, in another world. And it could be over yet again. We should be grateful to whatever gods are out there, for 'the now.' Regardless of past or future. Our shoulders are weightless. We are free. Free to not hold back." Zell swirled the wine around in the glass absently. "Every moment, every breath... it's a gift. A bonus. Why not live for the present?"

"Aha," MacKensie giggled. "Gift. Present. I see what you did there."

They both burst out laughing and Zell almost dropped his glass off the balcony which resulted in even more hysterics. When they finally calmed down, Zell looked at her and raised his glass to toast. "Here's to; living in the moment."

MacKensie joined him. "To; living in the moment."

Clink.