NationStates Jolt Archive

Bralos, Krioval
Thursday, 24 September 1953
4:25 pm

Red shirts emblazoned with white crosses merged chaotically with the blue shirts sporting a silver dragon. Black shirts quickly entered the melee, separating the two sides. Words were exchanged, and slowly the red and blue marched in different directions. So it had been for nearly six months - Christians and Kriovalian nationalists made no secret of their intense dislike of one another. As Krioval hurtled toward modernity, the quaint agreements between missionary and native Kriovalian had begun to unravel. Proselytes feared that their voices would be lost as the marketplace of ideas expanded to include philosophies like secular humanism and communism. Kriovalian polytheists feared that the influx of all things "Western" would by extension lead to erosion of their traditional culture.

What happened was little surprise. Kriovalians, by large, withdrew support from the missions just as the Christian rhetoric heated up. Both sides blamed one another for the icing relations. Words had led to confrontation, then economic backlash, and finally to mass protest. Thus far, there had been no deaths.

A man wearing the black uniform of a 1950s Kriovalian police officer recalled his fifth-grade history lessons - from 2000. There would be no deaths. King Sylvan would finally accede to the gravity of the situation and establish Bralos as a Christian-majority city. Tensions would ease. The modernization would continue unabated for ten glorious years. Then Sylvan would have the audacity to die. His daughter, Adele, would go nearly mad from grief. There would be no legitimate government for years. In the power vacuum that would continue for much of the 1960s and early 1970s, Branok Dova would don the mantle of Christianity to consolidate a power base in northern Krioval. It would continue in this way until 1999, when Raijin, grandson of Sylvan, killed the traitorous High Priest and restored order.

But the cost had been tremendous. Nearly two million people lay dead at the end of the Kriovalian Civil War. Then there were the debacles in foreign policy, the continued treachery, and even a terrorist strike against Bralos in 2005. The man sighed audibly as he felt the weight of a pistol in his hand. The antique was actually lighter than a ray-gun, to the man's surprise.

"Now for the tough part", he said, mostly to himself.

"Pardon?" a nearby officer asked. The policeman regarded the interloper with a combination of suspicion and concern. "You don't look so good," he added. "Get back to the base?"

It was technically a question, much in the same vein as "Are you planning to do your homework?" It deserved a response, one way or the other. The imposter shook his head.

"Yeah. Long day, ya know?" He took a few steps away from where the protest had been thick just minutes earlier. He realized that he could just abandon all of the intrigue at that moment. Ten years of peace, he thought. Could be a nice change.

A protestor jostled him unexpectedly. The false policeman reacted instinctively. The bullet struck the other man in the chest, and all hell broke loose. The gun was dropped immediately as the impostor ran frantically from the scene. But did I change anything? he thought, mind reeling. Did I change...

And then he remembered his fifth-grade history lessons...

Bralos, Krioval
Wednesday, 24 September 2003
12:30 pm

Ayumi Machida led the group of thirty children down the street, occasionally pausing in her lecture to brush a few wayward strands of black hair from her face. Teaching highschool freshmen had not been her top choice, but the Guild had practically begged her. To her surprise, she was finding the experience to be rewarding, if draining. She motioned toward the group's left, indicating a small park. As the group made its way to the center, they paused at a cluster of benches.

"Can anybody tell me what happened here fifty years ago?" Ayumi asked the group. Several hands were raised. "Yes, Marie?"

The small girl smoothed out her sky blue skirt and her face scrunched up in concentration. "The beginning of the Civil War," she said simply.

A male voice intruded. "Well, technically," he said, "the war didn't start until December twelfth." Its speaker grinned reflexively as his gaze sought Ayumi's.

"Actually, Hikaru, both you and Marie are correct, in part." Machida was a Paladin, and as such, prided exactness in speech. "Much mystery surrounds the events of the twenty-fourth of September, nineteen fifty-three, but what we are reasonably sure of is that a police recruit mistakenly fired into a crowd of protestors." She paused, nodding toward Marie before continuing. "But the war as we know it did not begin for another ten weeks. Can anybody other than Hikaru tell me what that was?"

Hikaru managed to stop the stream of words that had been building up, instead choosing to cross his arms in would-be defiance. Another of the boys rushed to fill the gap in speech. "The death of Adele Kriov?" Kentaro ventured.

"Absolutely correct," Ayumi said. Her tone shifted into lecture mode. "Unknown individuals infiltrated the royal palace after violence broke out in Bralos. The princess was found brutally murdered in late November, during the Victory Festivals. King Sylvan, who had been hoping to salvage the Bralos accords, was horrified. He had always avoided violence..."

"...but this time he actually led the army, didn't he, Machida-sensei?" A dark face peered from over a book entitled The Builder's Legacy. She asked another question. "Did the king actually kill a hundred people by himself?"

"Yes, Emily, he did." To the rest of the group, the teacher added, "You may notice that there are no buildings over fifty years old in this city."

Hikaru interrupted. "That's because the king burned them down." His face revealed approval for the action.

"That is correct." Ayumi's face toughened. "And so your assignment for next week is to write a report on the Civil War. You may focus either on the shooting in Bralos that started it, the battles themselves, the burning of Bralos in nineteen fifty-four, or the immediate postwar period, where Krioval began to move toward its current government." A collective groan rose from the group of students. She waited for it to dissipate. "Now, we should get going. There is still the historical exhibit in the Bralos museum we need to see before going back for the day."

The students stood and began filing out of the park, save for one. Kentaro Takahara regarded the monument. It contained a to-scale depiction of the former King of Krioval, carrying both a torch and a hammer. Below, the inscription read, "...that all things be restored to that which is right." He made a note to ask Machida-sensei about the phrase later, and so as to not be late, bounded off after the rest of the class.

Kriov Imperial Fortress
Thursday, 22 October 1953
6:30 pm

Inside his well-appointed study, the leader of Krioval paced and wondered how everything had gone wrong so quickly. The Bralos Accord still sat on the small mahogany signing table, though it did not bear the royal signature. With the resistance in Bralos growing by the hour, it was becoming less likely that it ever would. Sylvan paused and stared into a nearby mirror. He was tall for a native of the island nation, though he had long ago realized that the royal bloodline was strongly influenced by outsiders, and not just the Kriovalian nobility. His skin was darkly tanned, a combination of genetic predisposition and years spent playing soccer, hunting, and swimming. Those things, plus three years of military service in the early 1920s had made him incredibly strong.

The king ran his hands through his shoulder-length black hair as he reflected on his life. He had ascended the throne in 1926, after his grandfather's death. His father, Torov, in typical Kriovalian fashion, chose to pass the crown down a generation, instead serving as head of the Royal Council. Almost instantly, Sylvan had begun the modernization of the islands. Electricity was brought in within the year, but the light had served as a beacon to expansionist foreigners. He laughed inwardly as he remembered how several pale-skinned travelers had landed in Torokara only to discover quite a few pale-skinned residents of Krioval, most having arrived due to navigational error. Industrialization had brought to the surface all the lingering tensions between the traditionalists, the nationalists, and the forward-seekers. Still, Krioval had been mostly peaceful for nearly twenty years, when the Second World War threatened. Even then, though, crisis had been averted.

Sylvan was nearing his fifty-fifth birthday, though few would guess his true age by looking at the man. "Long may you live", the crowds had cheered at his ascension. He hoped to live for a while longer, though in Kriovalian terms, the sun had definitely crossed the meridian of his life, and was now well-situated in the western half of the sky. Maybe, he thought, he might live to be seventy or seventy-five; quite a long life for one born at the turn of the sixth Kriovalian, or twentieth common, century. Above all, though, Sylvan wished for peace. Without peace, what point was there to life?

*********************************************************

Outside, a man waited patiently for darkness to fall. He sighed with relief as the unseasonable autumn heat began to dissipate. The ocean had swallowed the sun nearly half an hour earlier, and the buzzing of the mosquitoes had risen with the moon. He silently cursed his luck - picking a clear evening with a full moon to carry out his mission - but it was the best that could be done on such short notice. There was no telling where the king would be after tonight, when the Bralos Conference was set to reconvene. No, it had to be this night.

He had evaded security simply, by pretending to be a palace employee. Forged documents had aided greatly in his deception. Beneath his stablehand's clothing, he touched a small wooden crucifix, reciting an old prayer: God commands we come to Him, at His chosen hour. The king's hour had arrived. He crept into the shadow of the main palace building. Soon he would have to abandon his pretense, and he drew several breaths to ready himself for the mad scramble to the second floor of the building. He determined that he would have about one, maybe two, minutes. Then he would welcome his eternal fate. "One...two...three!" He dashed in the door and flew up the steps toward the study.

*********************************************************

"Daddy? Are we going to see mommy and Sarina tomorrow?" A small girl, six years old, walked into the study. "It's been three whole days, you know." She pouted for emphasis, placing her hands on the hips of her white nightgown. When a response was not forthcoming in the next two seconds, she repeated herself, slowly. "Threeeeeee whoooooooole daaaaaaaays."

"Adele, sweetheart, it is past your bedtime," Sylvan attempted by way of distraction. "You need to be rested before we go into the city."

"'S not even dark yet," she snapped back, eyes twinkling. "So, are we?"

The king sighed. "Yes, we are. In the morning, after you have slept." He ratcheted up the sternness of his voice, though even he found it unconvincing. "Now go to bed."

"Oh, all right!" She faked stomping off in anger. The doors to the study burst open.

*********************************************************

"Your Majesty, get down!"
"Daddy!!!!"
"God, guide me in the moment of thy glory!"
"What...?!"

Sylvan had been trained by the army, and as such, he crumpled to the floor and rolled left, toward a plush sofa. The princess had no such training, and so she stood, frozen, and screamed in terror. A particularly fleet-footed guard had managed to catch the intruder by surprise, even as the man readied a gun and pointed in the direction of the fleeing monarch. The guard slammed into the assassin from the right side, head-first, taking the other man with him. A gunshot rang out. The screaming stopped instantly. Then guards came pouring into the study from the corridor. Sylvan stood.

On the floor, the once-white nightgown began to resemble the princess's long hair, even as her face turned the color of porcelain. The king's first thought was that, even in death, Adele looked like her mother. His second was far less kind. Shock gave way to grief, which made fine kindling for the spark of fury within the large man. He strode to the incapacitated killer, hoisted him to his feet with one hand, and ripped the shirt from him with the other. The crucifix landed on the floor, skittering to a stop half a meter from the striken princess. The man gulped in terror, wincing for the blow that would surely come. But it never arrived.

Sylvan's voice was cold and harsh, making even the guards nearby shiver. "The punishment shall fit the crime. Take this man to Keldar's square, along with two sturdy pieces of wood." He indicated with one hand the appropriate dimensions. "Attach this filth to them. He is to live to seen the noonday sun. He is to receive neither rites of forgiveness nor burial. He is to be fed to the sharks upon his death. Arrest any who attempt to interfere."

He waited until the man was dragged, sobbing, from his presence. He walked gingerly toward Adele's body. "I apologize, my beloved daughter. I have allowed evil to strike at the heart of this kingdom. Now, I must drive it from our shores. I pray that you will forgive me when we meet again." Bending down, he kissed the princess's forehead before gesturing toward an attendant. "Prepare her body for the ceremony. It will be done in the afternoon tomorrow." Returning his attention to the first, stunned, guard, the king said, "This was not your fault. I intend to discover whose it was. Send for the Royal Council immediately. And my wife..."

"I have send twenty soldiers to Goddess of Mercy Hospital, Your Majesty."

Sylvan nodded somberly. "Thank you. Come with me to the Council meeting. I will need you to describe the events here tonight."

"It will be done, my Lord."

*********************************************************

Once the guards and attendants had left, the King of Krioval exploded into wails of grief. Grabbing the signing table, he flung it into the fireplace, and watched with grim satisfaction as the Bralos Accord burned. "Such will be the fate of the city itself," he vowed. Above, the brilliant moon bore silent witness, the sole symbol of consistency in a kingdom on the verge of civil war.

Keldar's Square

Torokara, Krioval
Friday, 23 October 1953
11:55 am

The crucifixion could not have been more thoroughly choreographed if the king had left detailed instructions as to exactly which organ was to be abused at twelve minutes past nine. The man's blood had been collected and transfused back into his broken body at least five times since the sun had risen. He had first resisted the urge to scream, then cried for mercy, then for a quick death, and finally, his voice gave out shortly before ten-thirty. He could only watch as the shadows began their daily travel, first pointing westward but now swinging toward the north. Death was now an abstract concept, as was anything but intolerable pain, which permeated every of his senses. Before yesterday, the princess's killer would have scoffed at the idea that pain could be tasted or heard. But yesterday was a universe away.

Bells in the distance began to ring in the twelfth hour. A lead pipe swung from behind the assassin, connecting with his trachea. There was no fanfare, the crowd noticed. Just an ending. Some stood horrified, while others were relieved. A small group were even outwardly jubilant, one man in particular celebrating the death of Adele's killer by devouring a nearly raw steak. The commentary, which had been subdued for most of the morning, rose in volume. Some voiced concerns over a civil war. Some protested, feebly, at the arrest of several noted religious figures who had attempted to contravene Sylvan's order. Most, however, were statements of muted resignation, with "Well, that's over with, I suppose" ranking high among them. The assemblage gradually dispersed. Krioval was a pragmatic society, and the laundry was not about to wait; nor would the banking, shopping, or manufacturing.

*********************************************************

Three blocks away, Sylvan sat at his wife's bedside, watching helplessly as tears cascaded down the young woman's face. She looked at him with a mix of sadness and revulsion.

"They," she gestured toward the guards, "already told me. Don't tell me how it happened." She choked back a sob. "What were you doing?!"

The accusation. "What I normally do on a Thursday night." He exhaled loudly and looked at his wife with eyes downcast. "I worry, naturally. About you, Kat. About the family. About the kind of world we live in."

Katrina's icy demeanor thawed. "I see." She looked up at Sylvan. "It's not your fault." She lay back and motioned for the nurse to enter. The slim woman entered the room and attached a new bag to the intravenous delivery tubing. "Sarina is doing well," she said by way of farewell. Sylvan held her hand delicately, and a few minutes later, Katrina Kriov was silent, save for her even breathing.

From the doorway, a single guard stood. He was the same man who had apprehended the assassin the previous evening. In the light of day, his Nordic features were apparent - tall and thin, mid-length blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. In the bustling hospital, he managed an air of detachment and alertness that had marked him for the royal army years earlier. Still, he was a young man, only having turned twenty-six the past April. His name. He remained in place until the slightest gesture by King Sylvan indicated that it was time to go.

North Bank of the Bralos River

Bralos, Krioval
Sunday, 21 March 1954
8:45 am

"They say that Sylvan himself is nearly to the city, you know."

"They say a lot these days. It's been over five months. He doesn't have the *stones* to lead an invasion."

"You think so?"

"The crown's been on some soft heads the past hundred years. Thinking men, but not *doing* men."

"Huh."

"Well, it's just about time for church, isn't it? If we're late, the priest will probably..." the man's voice paused as he scanned the horizon, "...fuck me!"

"Seems a bit harsh."

"Down!" The first man pulled the second to the ground as an artillery shell flew overhead, smashing into a nearby building.

"Whoa!" They looked at one another and wordlessly, ran northward into the city of Bralos. Within minutes, the quiet Sunday morning exploded into a panicked frenzy.

*********************************************************

A gargantuan figure covered almost entirely in steel plating and black cloth surveyed the southern riverbank. He motioned upward and toward Bralos, and grunted. Another salvo flew overhead. His stony gaze rested momentarily on the ruined bridge nearby. When he spoke, it was with months of stored fury and years of suppressed aggression. He snarled at nobody in particular, "Damn nobility. Delay after delay. Waste of space, two of them out of three. Let 'em find real jobs after this mess is over."

"Your Majesty, we have word from the scouting division that the civilians are evacuating toward the north. Shall we intercept?"

"Yes. Do not harm a single civilian." The king's brow furrowed in thought. "Soldiers are to be disarmed and captured as prisoners of war. If they resist, kill them on the spot." Sylvan half-smiled. Evacuation would make the next step far easier. "Once the resistance has been crushed, empty the city and see to it that all valuables are brought to the capital."

"It will be done, Your Majesty."

The leader of Krioval surveyed his battle lines. He pointed toward a young soldier and beckoned. The younger man sprinted to close the distance, and nodded deeply in acknowledgment. Sylvan spoke. "Private Sokolev. Where can we cross?"

The soldier unrolled a map. "Here, here, and here," he pointed. The river is less than a meter deep in these locations."

"Casualties?"

"Five to ten percent, if they're prepared to defend the city."

"So be it. Send over a demolitions crew. They'll be needed for the next phase."

"My Lord?"

"The city that promised unity and harmony has become a symbol of kinstrife in Krioval. The Gods demand a grand sacrifice."

"At once, Your Majesty."

Guild of Paladins

Andretara, Krioval
Thursday, 24 September 2003
9:00 am

The students sleepily filed into the cramped classroom. At the front of the room stood a fairly large and muscular man dressed in Andros colors, deep green and blue. The green cape especially contrasted with the man's unusually pale skin and brilliant red hair. More than one student had snickered, far away, that it looked like Hiroshi Andros's head was on fire. His pallor had even precipitated a minor scandal at his birth until tests did confirm, after rumors forced the family's hand, Hiroshi as Lord David Andros's youngest child. His position in the family, plus the gossip about his appearance, had done wonders to instill one of the most mercurial personalities in Krioval into the soldier. He began the class with a question, barely waiting for the students to take their seats.

"On the twenty-fourth of March, nineteen fifty-four, what enabled a breakthrough for the Kriovalian forces on the banks of the Bralos River?" He surveyed his class critically. The question was among the most evil that a first class of Guild students could be asked, if for no other reason than the mountains of disagreement among war historians on that exact point. Several hands shot up nonetheless.

"Trekal. What is your answer?"

"Well, sir, according to Jennifer King, it was the collapse of the Bralos resistance..."

Hiroshi willed the grin from appearing on his face. "And what does Jon Trekal think of that theory?"

"It's possible, I suppose, but both General Leo and Lord Dekker say that the resistance had fallen a full day earlier."

"Continue."

"The problem was infighting among the Kriovalian troops." The chattering in nearby seats stopped. A reasonably large minority felt that the coherency of the army had been lacking in the 1950s, but it was nearly heretical to voice such a viewpoint before an Andros. "Albert Andros and Erik Dekker disagreed over nearly every aspect of the battle plans."

The instructor spoke slowly, to hide his disgust as best as possible. The Dekker/Andros dispute in 1954 had morphed into the sort of genteel disdain common among warring noble factions. "And who, exactly, won the argument?"

Jon Trekal squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, Instructor, uh..."

"Anybody else?" A single hand was tentatively raised. Hiroshi's disgust was rapidly replaced by surprise. "Ms. Tyvok?"

Saravi Tyvok smiled broadly. "Leo Sokolev, Instructor. He decided where to ford the river, and I highly doubt that anybody could have saved the city of Bralos from destruction."

"And why is that?" Hiroshi managed.

"Because," the female student said, voice transforming into lecture mode, "the Great Fire was set by the Bralos resistance."

Bralos, Krioval
Wednesday, 24 March 1954
10:30 pm

Wednesdays suck. Any benefit from sleeping in on the previous weekend is already gone, and the next weekend is still two full days away. Another reason, and a bit more pressing in the case of Anna Peterson was that the army had crossed the Bralos river that morning. "Damn, damn, damn!" she cursed loudly, eliciting a grunt from a man sleeping nearby. The Brekai River, if one could call it a true river, cut through the center of the city, and was the final defense of Bralos. At the rate Sylvan was whipping his troops forward, the last barricades were due to fall before dawn. She readied a small handgun, stolen from her father. "James, get your lazy ass up now. It's your turn for guard duty."

A grumble met her command. "Five more minutes."

"You said that half an hour ago. Get up."

"Fine. Don't be such a cold bitch about it." That earned him a kick to the shin. James Peterson picked up his own weapon and sat atop the flood wall that doubled as fortress. "Try not to talk in your sleep this time," he sneered. "I've heard more than enough about your crush of the week."

Anna ignored her brother. She figured she'd get about four hours' worth of sleep before having to flee. Northward, she thought. There's plenty of work in Tarisia, in farm country. She wished momentarily that she hadn't volunteered to cover the evacuation - rumors had circulated that Sylvan intended to torch the city and all its inhabitants under cover of darkness. Whatever fate Bralos, she thought, most of the people would be able to outrun the army once it was sighted. With those thoughts, Anna fell into a deep sleep.

*********************************************************

Thursday, 25 March 1954
1:55 am

James continued his surveillance, though he was careful to not disturb his sister's rest. Her wrath simply was not worth the trouble. By one-thirty, though, his mind drifted toward a conversation the two had had earlier that day. He was looking forward to good, honest farm work. The Petersons had tried to adapt to city life, but it never really took. James in particular recognized the futility of it. He hated school, and all the things that came with it - books, complicated sums, and strange ideas that the Universe was the product of random chance. No, God and country were enough, even if "country" was ruled by a godless heathen and filled with men who made the ancient Spartan army look prudish. His father had stressed the importance of not upsetting "the way things were". But now Father was dead.

Where his mind went, so did James's consciousness. A cracking twig woke him abruptly, and he found himself face-to-face with a Kriovalian scout. He frantically searched the nearby ground for his weapon, but the scout kicked it away. "Anna!"

She was already awake, however, and she leapt toward the intruder. Her attack connected, and the man's weapon flew into the river. "James, get people out of the city! Go now!" She turned to face the soldier, her gun pointed vaguely at his midsection.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. I radioed my position five minutes ago. They'll expect an update in another five."

Anna ignored him, looking instead at his uniform. "Dekker, huh. It must be really bad, if the *nobility* have to be hired killers."

"Erik. Though I don't know much about hired killers."

"Bullshit."

"Possibly. Of course, if I were here to kill people, your brother wouldn't be alive, now would he." Erik noticed Anna's gun barrel wavering, reflecting her uncertainty. "Now, why don't we end this silliness and..." he said, lunging for his fallen weapon.

Anna's gun fired, missing. Dekker considered himself modestly chivalrous, however, in life-or-death situations, instinct took over. He charged the smaller woman headfirst, colliding with her abdomen and sending both of them down an embankment away from the Brekai River. They rolled around several times before ending in River Street. Anna's gun flew into a hedgerow, to Erik's relief. Now all he had to worry about was the rest of the Resistance, which was likely not populated entirely of teenaged girls who had never handled a firearm. While the soldier assessed the situation, Anna headbutted him, sending him reeling.

"Who taught you to fight?" he said, incredulously.

"You'd be surprised," Anna retorted, sprinting for the hedgerow. Erik's legs snapped forward and then to the side, hitting the girl in the back of her knees. Unfortunately, this simply sent her to her destination that much faster. Dekker kicked in a nearby door, praying to the Gods that no ambush party waited for him. He was met with silence, save for the sound of a bullet being loaded into a firing chamber. He sniffed the air. In Erik Dekker's brain, alarm bells went off. Even as Anna pulled the trigger, aiming for the open door, the soldier smashed through a window, eyes radiating fierce determination. He charged into the girl, who was too shocked to reload, carrying them both up the embankment and onto the flood wall. They tumbled into the river.

There was no sound for a fraction of a second. Then the building across the street exploded. The gas leak, not being confined to that house, ignited down the block, each home catching fire an instant after the last. Erik Dekker looked at his sodden radio. "Evacuate the city immediately," he barked into the transmitter, hoping that the advancing army could hear him.

*********************************************************

The flames engulfed the entirety of the city an hour before sunrise, the brilliant fire first spreading outward in a shockwave before turning inward on itself, and buoyed by the rising hot air, rotated like an inverted tornado. Few of Bralos's buildings were of stone or brick construction, and James Peterson was only somewhat successful in convincing people to leave. The official number of dead and missing from the Great Fire of Bralos was eleven thousand, eight hundred sixty-seven - over a quarter of the city's population.

Guild of Paladins

Andretara, Krioval
Thursday, 24 September 2003
11:00 am

"All right, class. We have a lot to cover today, so let's get started." The hourly gong had just finished sounding, and many of the students were still scrambling for seats. Given their morning workover by Hiroshi, it was no surprise that many were on edge. This instructor, however, waited patiently for several minutes for stragglers to arrive. Five minutes after eleven, he resumed speaking. "Please come to my class on time tomorrow, and for the remainder of the academic semester. Ninety minutes is barely sufficient for an entire day's lesson." He paused as he surveyed the room, briefly meeting the gaze of each latecomer.

"I am Kenji Miyamoto. I do not care by which name you refer to me in class, so long as it is respectful. Before we can begin the experimental phase of this course, which will start next week, we need to discuss the history of scientific advancement in Krioval. Along with that, naturally, comes the social and political changes in Krioval of the last forty-five years." The instructor paused to allow the information to sink in. He quickly became aware of some students' efforts to size him up. He decided to let them - Kenji had been raised in a traditional Japanese family, and both intellect and self-defense had been a part of his training almost since birth. There was always at least one student who felt the need to push buttons...

"Hey, uh, Kenji?" Not nearly respectful enough.

"Yes, Trekal-san?"

"Why are we doing history in this class too? Other classes already cover..."

"Ah. Paladin Machida's class deals with general history. Mine deals specifically with that related to scientific advance. Perhaps you misunderstood the parts of the syllabus that refer to this."

"Anything's possible," came the cheeky reply. "Memorizing a bunch of information isn't going to make me a better scientist...or a better paladin."

Kenji considered himself a patient man. So he patiently told the student to come forward. "Defend yourself," he said simply as his foot swung forward, taking the younger man's legs out from underneath.

Jon Trekal collapsed to the ground, though Kenji stopped him smacking his head on the ancient stone floor. "Why was I successful? You learned to counter this exact move no more than two hours earlier."

"I didn't see it coming!"

The instructor was unmoved. "Your brain was not synchronized to your environment. My job is to train you to think at all times, not just when one wishes to do so. Do you still feel that my lectures will be without use to you?"

The student regarded Kenji warily. "I will reserve further judgment until after I have heard them, Kenji-sensei." It was grudging, but it would do for the time being.

"Let us proceed, then. Can anybody tell me what happened on the twenty-eigth of July, nineteen sixty-three?"

Telekar, Krioval
Sunday, 28 July 1963
1:30 pm

"Initializing software. Containment and safety features are operational. Two minutes until reaction begins."

"Reactants in position."

Erik looked at the two technicians. "Begin."

Machinery cranked into action. "Monitoring neutron emission. Zero point zero." Several minutes passed. "Zero point three. Zero point seven. One point four." More time went by, and the reaction began to accelerate. "Six point eight. Nine point nine. Seventeen point zero. Thirty-eight point two." Soon, the technician lost count. After an hour, the reaction was terminated. Krioval had achieved the splitting of the atom. Never mind that they were twenty years late - few people noticed a small Pacific nation 's push into the nuclear age.

*********************************************************

6:45 pm

The event that would be noticed occurred far later in the day. Krioval had decided to get into space exploration. Actually, Krioval had decided to get into just about every aspect of first-world science - all of it at the same time. This time, Sylvan's exuberance was on display for the entire world.

The satellite was readied for launch. It was nothing more elaborate than the Sputnik launched by the Soviet Union thirteen years earlier, though it was to be propelled by an American Vanguard rocket. Thousands had turned out to see the newest Kriovalian marvel. Thousands instead witnessed the satellite explode on the launch pad, shrapnel flying straight into the audience. Nobody was killed, but almost a hundred were injured. And thus began the renewed push for isolationism.

Back in Kenji Miyamoto's classroom

"And so the public face of Krioval's scientific advancement began on that day. Of course, the dramatic failure of the space program in its infancy destabilized a government already reeling from the Great Fire nine years earlier. Even the reconstruction of the city of Bralos a year after the satellite mishap was not enough to shore up public opinion of the King and the Royal Council."

"So King Sylvan created the Republic."

"Very good, Kentaro. He realized the futility of resisting the will of the public. Besides, Lord Sylvan was sixty-five years old. In any event, those pushing for increased isolation and traditionalism found themselves in a most unfortunate position. Can anybody tell me why?" Two hands in the field of students were lifted. "Saravi?"

She smiled. "They could not oppose an effort to let the public decide, and to endorse that effort would mean agreeing with the king."

Kenji brightened considerably and nodded sagely. "The end result, Kentaro?"

"The nationalists lost the argument. The Republic began the next year. Elections brought in a liberal majority - scientific funding doubled in four years."

"Which brings me to this class's conclusion. Much of the world operates along the same principles as science. Most of what occurs is the product of several chance events occurring simultaneously. Even the most controlled experiment, or experience, has variable elements that cannot be readily discerned. Class dismissed."

Chambers of the Senate

Torokara, Krioval
Monday, 5 October 1964
10:00 am

Halvar Tyvok was a big man, former soldier, and head of one of the greatest tribes of Krioval. It was hardly a surprise that he was selected to open the first session of Krioval's Senate. He banged the gavel authoritatively, and the crowd became gradually silent. "The Senate will now come to order." The last few murmurs died down. "Let the records indicate that the first session of the Senate of the Republic of Krioval convened on this day, the fifth of October, in the one thousand nine hundred sixty-fourth common year; the four hundred sixty-third by the Old Calendar. Will the Constitution now be read." It was not a question.

Sylvan Kriov stood. "Senators, I present the Constitution of the Republic of Krioval." The entire document took only about twenty minutes to read. Most Kriovalians were enthralled at the sheer list of civil freedoms protected by law. They became less engaged when the minutia of governance and election laws, which stipulated that half of the legislative body was to be elected directly, apportioned by city, and the other half by partisan affiliation. They did notice that the titles of nobility were technically preserved, though nobody was compelled to use those titles. Tribal inheritance was maintained. The larger tribes silently rejoiced, and the smaller ones, as well as the non-tribal families, sighed in resignation. Nobody was completely satisfied with the new government, which meant to most that it was likely to be fair and effective. And boring, for the time being. Sylvan stopped speaking and handed the document to the sergeant-at-arms, bowed slightly toward Halvar Tyvok, and softly said, "If the Senate will excuse me, I have a flight to catch."

Sarina squealed with delight; the rest of the chamber went dead silent. A smile crept across the monarch's face as he wordlessly led his daughter and wife from the Senate chamber. As they neared the exit, Halvar said, simply, "Enjoy your vacation, Lord Kriov."

"Thank you, Lord Tyvok. I will do that."

*********************************************************

Torokara International Airport
12:05 pm

Commercial air travel had finally appeared in Krioval. The opening of the airport only three days earlier had drawn crowds over three times that attending the Senate convention. Thousandss had turned out to see the first flight depart from Torokara, on its way northward to Japan. On this day, the second flight was boarding. In its own way, history was made here as well - security screeners actually inspected Sylvan's luggage before allowing him on the aircraft. The doors were sealed, people cheered loudly, and then the plane sat motionless on the ground for fifteen minutes.

It was Krioval's first delayed flight.

Guild of Paladins

Thursday, 23 September 2003
12:40 pm

Serph walked briskly across the monastic grounds. While others might be upset at running twenty minutes late, his face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. He veered left suddenly, intent on taking a shortcut, when he ran straight into...

"'Ey, Sa--f, where you goin' so fast? Dere a race goin' on or sumtin'?" The other man's accent was not easily placed, though most had assumed it was from the dark-skinned man's ancestral home in the Caribbean.

Serph exhaled, the slightest smile forming in the process. "I have a class, Kiros." He laughed lightly. "Some of us have to work today."

"Class today?! Seriously?!" Kiros stood slightly taller than the other paladin, and he made gestures as if to emphasize his disdain for the very thought of having to teach a class.

"Jealous, aren't you?" Serph laughed again as he ran his hands through his hair absent-mindedly. Half a second too late, he realized that not even "super hold" gel was designed to fend off a double-handed assault.

"Messed up your spikes, ya know." Getting Kiros to pronounce a single terminal "r" had proven fruitless years ago, much to the frustration of his teachers. Serph thought it an apt bit of rebellion on Kiros's part.

"What are you doing the rest of the afternoon?"

"Askin' me on a date already?" Kiros loudly retorted, clapping Serph on the shoulder. "Not sure I'm ready for dat."

Serph shot him a mock exasperated look. "You know me. Any guy I can get my hands on," he said blandly, struggling not to laugh midway through.

"Heh heh. Goin' to the old airport in da capital. Wanna come?"

"After class?"

"Too late den."

"Tell you what, Kiros. I'll come tomorrow. You can take your class up there. Airplanes are part of the 'logistics' curriculum, aren't they?"

"Ya. You' right. See you den, brudda!" Kiros started marching off.

Serph looked at the class schedule. Yuck. Nine in the morning. No, that certainly would not do. The paladin chuckled as he quickly accessed the monastery's network. Too easy. He walked leisurely toward his class, now resigned to being incredibly late, even as he pierced through the shoddy security protocols barring him from his prize. Oh yeah. A little to the left. Up...a little more. Ooh. Right there. As the screen resolved, Serph began entering commands as quickly as he could. There was no reason to play around any longer than necessary, or invest too much emotional stock in doing it - a philosophy that had led to the disintegration of many of the young paladin's relationships.

Andretara Monastery Network Administration. Please enter password.

*******

Access granted. Please wait...
...
...
...
Please choose appl...

Class scheduling

From there it was simple enough to change Kiros's class to the afternoon. Of course, Chief Paladin Micah might be a bit surprised to find he was hosting the faculty luncheon at nine in the morning, but such was life. Serph retreated carefully from the network, arriving at his classroom.

1:00 pm

Serph made it to the class on time, and he silently offered his thanks to whichever divine agent had allowed such an occurrence. Naturally, half of his students were still missing-in-action. "I see that five minutes between classes isn't enough. If it helps any, it wasn't enough when I started out here either." The instructor looked at the group of fifteen or so students who were nervously seated. "Fortunately, I have a solution. Class will be held in the quad from now on. Could one of you put a note on the door?"

Sleepy post-lunch grumblings disappeared in a flurry of activity. Serph regarded the transition with detached bemusement. Lectures were boring. Lessons through example were much more rewarding.

"Uh, Instructor...?"

"Serph."

"Uh, Instructor Serph?"

The paladin had to chuckle at that. "You're Yoshi's son." He hesitated, pretending to think of the boy's name. "Kentaro."

Kentaro nodded. "That's right."

"Did you have a question?"

Another nod. "What are we going to do outside?"

"Wait and see."

*********************************************************

Just outside the Monastery
1:15 pm

Serph waited patiently for the latecomers to find their way outside. "Now for today's lesson." He produced a frisbee. "Divide into two even groups. Play Ultimate Frisbee."

It took at least two full minutes for the incredulity to melt away. "Instructor Serph, is this really the best use of our time?" one of the girls finally asked.

"Trust me, Miss Novak. Watch out."

Grace Novak turned just in time to catch the incoming disc. Her blonde pigtails swung mere centimeters from the paladin's face. She pretended not to notice. Several minutes passed without incident. Serph checked his watch. Any minute now...

"Serph, why are your students playing with a frisbee during class? More importantly, why aren't you *teaching* your class?"

"Lord Micah. Good afternoon. We are just getting started. Some of the students were late due to the change in location." Several of the boys snickered. Serph turned toward them. "Keep going." To Micah, he added, "Watch."

The paladin intercepted the frisbee mid-air and sent it flying toward Kentaro. "Tell me the founder tribe in Krioval with the greatest influence."

"Dekker." Kentaro grinned, and sent the frisbee arcing back to Serph.

"I wish. Try again."

Kentaro braced for the frisbee toss as he thought. Jon Trekal was nearly blindsided by the flying disc. "Tyvok."

"Mister Trekal, pay attention. Mister Takahara, you are correct." The disc continued on its way through the group. "Next."

"Kriov."

"Andros."

"Dekker."

Serph bowed slightly at the mention of his tribe. A student took the opportunity to toss the frisbee his way. Wordlessly, Serph's left arm shot up, and he caught it. He flung it back toward the mass of teenagers. "Continue."

"Vartek."

"Takahara."

Down the list they went. Telovar, Dova, Miyamoto, Kital, Novak, Machida, and Trekal. Serph motioned for the disc and set it down. "Instructor Andros will teach you to be strong. Instructor Miyamoto will teach you to be smart. Instructor Telovar will teach you to be fast. But alone, these attributes are useless. Now, for the last fifteen minutes of class, I want both frisbee teams to go to either end of the field. You have five minutes to determine the best way to move me from here to there." He pointed toward a tree a hundred meters off. "You will then have ten minutes to do so. I will resist." He nodded and gestured to either end of the field.

"Now," Serph said, turning back toward the Chief Paladin, "we'll see if they're capable of teamwork."

"Explain yourself, Serph."

The younger paladin nodded. "Each group is about twelve. In ten minutes, twelve untrained students will be unable to move me the required distance. However, twenty-four may be able to subdue me long enough to accomplish the task."

*********************************************************

Fifteen minutes later

The two groups of students lay exhausted at the center of the field. To their credit, they both had managed to compel Serph's movement almost a third of the way to the goal before the paladin managed to wriggle free or deliver a painful (but not injurious) kick. He regarded them coolly. "Perhaps next time you will find a way to succeed." Serph turned toward the monastery and picked up the frisbee, tossing it upward and catching it a few times. "Class dismissed."

University of Torokara

Wednesday, 24 May 1972
3:30 pm

Sarina Kriov had decided that being a pampered princess was never to her liking. Some had questioned her dedication, right up to her registration for seven classes every semester. She was nowhere near the best student on the sprawling campus, but maintaining a B+ average while on track for a dual major in four years, in computer science and biology nonetheless, had quieted most of her critics.

The former royal had embarked on several scandalous relationships, much to her (temporary) delight and her parents' consternation. She was hardly surprised that men flocked to her, given her status, and Sarina was not above pretending to let them have their way with her. Most complained within a week that she had "forgotten" to call them back. That was not to say that she lacked selectivity - most suitors got the brush-off within five minutes of meeting her. But her latest escapade had ended badly and recently, putting thoughts of romance furthest from Sarina's conscious mind.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Does it look like I'm interested?!"

"Uh...in me sitting here? It's not exactly easy to tell."

Sarina looked up and felt blood rush to her face. She had a weakness for tall men, especially tall light-skinned men, and he fit the bill. "Um..."

"Look, it's the only free chair in the building, and I'd rather not have to eat in class, but if you're busy, or waiting for someone, or..."

"No, that's all right!" Sarina said, quickly. "Go right ahead."

"Thanks." He extended a large hand. "Varik."

Sarina shook hands as best she could, given that his hand was nearly double hers in size. "Varik, huh? Kelos?"

Varik laughed. "The other white-guy tribe, actually. Dekker."

"I've only met a few Dekkers," Sarina responded, coquettishness returning. "Do you know Lord Erik?"

"A bit."

"How do you know him?"

"He's my father." Varik chuckled as Sarina coughed. "My mother is half-native, half-Japanese," he offered by way of explanation. "And you are?"

"Sarina Kriov."

"Oh." His voice became playful. "I'm afraid I'll need to see some ID."

Three seconds later, a college identification card hung a centimeter from Varik's eyes. "Good enough for you?"

"I suppose." Varik began unwrapping a packet of handmade sushi rolls. "Want one?"

"How do you keep those cold?"

Varik pantomimed scanning the room for listeners before leaning in conspiratorially. "I stole some gel-packs from lab. You know, the ones they ship cells and such in?"

"That's disgusting."

"Please," he said, popping the first portion into his mouth. He continued talking as he chewed. "It's not like anything's getting through three layers of plastic."

"Do you always talk with your mouth full, or is this just your way of impressing me?"

Varik swallowed loudly. "Only when I'm in a rush. Besides, it's not like we're on a *date* or anything, right?"

Sarina turned crimson. "Of course not! It's just that, where I was raised, people were taught not to do such things."

"Do you honestly mean to tell me that you have never eaten on the way to class, and had a conversation with a friend at the same time?"

"That's entirely different!"

Varik looked at his watch. "Crap. Got to get to class. You heading to Biochem three?"

Sarina rolled her eyes. "What. You looked at my class schedule too?"

"Huh? That's where I'm going, is all. It's not like I've noticed you sitting in the third row, fifth seat from the left, since the beginning of the semester or anything." With that, Varik stood, bowed deeply, and took off running, laughing the entire time.

Sarina's fists balled up in frustration. Now was not a good time to be interested in guys, she thought. Especially not ones like that Varik Dekker.

Adele Kriov Memorial Hospital

Valak, Krioval
Monday, 10 June 1974
10:30 pm

Sarina and Varik were married three months after their May encounter. The speed with which they undertook their engagement shocked both the Kriov and Dekker patriarchs, but neither was able to convince the couple to slow down, and amid the onslaught of gold-embossed invitations and discussions about flower arrangements, both Erik and Sylvan retreated from the scene. Katrina Kriov and Yumi Dekker were all too willing to jump right in. The ceremony was held in the Tarusen Great Temple, under the officiating of Andruik Dova, the High Priest of Krioval. The reception was among the most lavish in the history of Krioval, give the status of the bride and groom. Even the dour economists of Krioval were forced to show optimism at the union of two of the most influential founder tribes.

Within a year, Sarina was pregnant. Her already snarky demeanor sharpened considerably during the next eight months, and when her water broke in the morning of June tenth, Sarina was not the only person to scream "Finally!" with delight. Varik had been a strict atheist prior to his wife's pregnancy, but he found himself praying for a son. Erik had often remarked on this sudden burst of religiosity, and was often told exactly where his comments could be stuffed. The elder Dekker had merely laughed it off. He knew how important it was to have an anchor for both Kriov and Dekker tribes, and sadly in 1974, that meant a male child. Most had theorized that, given Sarina's weight gain, and the early onset of labor, Varik's prayers had been answered.

"GET IT OUT!" Sarina thrashed and balled up her fists. "Gods damn you, Varik Dekker, for putting this *thing* in me!"

"Now, Lady Kriov, please try to relax. We're nearly through," a nurse said softly.

"Oh, kiss my ass! You try pushing something out an opening half its size and smile while doing it," she screamed back.

Varik offered his hand. "Here. Just grab my hand and squeeze when the pain gets bad."

Sarina smiled evilly. Varik regretted his decision about six seconds after making it as his wife gripped him with enough force that he felt his bones protesting.

"Almost there, Lady Kriov."

Through gritted teeth, Sarina managed to gasp, "You've been saying that for three hours!"

"Yes, Lady Kriov, but I can see the baby's head now," the nurse said sweetly.

A doctor came flying into the delivery room, washed his hands vigorously, and put on gloves. A few minutes later, he was guiding the baby into the world. A brief cry pierced the night, and then ended.

"Congratulations. It's a boy."

Sarina dropped Varik's hand, much to his relief, and cradled her son, who dove immediately for her nipple. Even exhausted, she managed to say, "Just like his father." Then she collapsed into the mountain of pillows behind her, and struggled to stay awake to allow the baby to feed.

*********************************************************

Tarusen Temple

"So that's your game, is it?" a female voice spoke, clearly upset. "I was given assurances..."

"The decision comes from higher up," a male voice responded. "If you wish to defy that decision..."

She snorted derisively. "And die trying? No thank you."

"Good. Besides, he is still the child of royalty. The revelation was very clear."

"'Only one from the lowest class will upset the balance,'" she recited from memory. "That doesn't mean he should go unwatched."

"Of course not. But how 'unwatched' will the son of Kriov and Dekker *be*? Do you think that he'll simply disappear one day?"

"He had better not. I'll take this straight to the top if there's so much a *hint* of..."

"Of what? Deception on my part? Please. You will be High Priestess in a matter of a few years, Isabel. That is, if you can get over your innate distrust for everybody, even people in your own tribe."

"It's not paranoia if it's true. In any case, you are *not* in my tribe, are you, Branok Dova?"

"No, I am not. But so long as my brother holds the keys to this sanctuary, it will not be breached. I pray that under your tenure the same will hold." The man turned and walked down the passageway, not bothering to wait for a response.

"Bastard," Isabel cursed under her breath. Still, she thrilled at the possibility of ruling the Great Temple, even if it was a remote one.

Thursday, 23 September 2003
6:30 pm

"So dey like you den, ya?"

"Both of us, apparently."

"Why you say dat?"

"Well, you're as much part of tribe Dekker as I am."

Kiros choked on his beer as laughter overtook him. "Oh, ya," he said sarcastically. "Maybe dey'll make me an Andros too?" He stuck his tongue out at Serph.

"Interesting topic of conversation, I'd guess." Ayumi sat at their table. "Why is Kiros sticking his tongue out at you?" Her tone was playful.

"I called him a Dekker."

Ayumi giggled. "How horrible." She turned toward Kiros. "Do you have a lesson plan for tomorrow?"

"Takin' the class to de Airport. Good idea?"

"Sounds interesting."

"Guess who's comin' wi' da class?"

"Congratulations, Serph," Ayumi answered. "I should probably be asking *you* about Kiros's lesson plan."

"'Ey! What's dat s'posed to mean?"

In the distance, two men were approaching, deep in argument.

"The fact of the matter, Hiroshi, is that he will make the better leader." Kenji looked at the other man coolly. "You know that."

"Bullshit! I can take him any day, any time."

"And win what percentage of the time?" came the swift response. "Not to mention your scores in some of the other areas."

"Pfff." Hiroshi accelerated. "Hey Serph!"

The other paladin looked up, a questioning look on his face.

"Gettin' promoted ahead of me again?" Hiroshi shook his head in mock disbelief. "Guess this means I'm due in a month or two."

Serph merely nodded. Their rivalry was the stuff of legend, though nearly all of the emotional investment in their contests was by Hiroshi. At the same time, they were committed to their group, their 'tribe' within the Guild.

"Yeah, well, try not to screw up too much, Serph. Other people might want that spot," Hiroshi grumbled, though in a more friendly tone than earlier. He motioned toward a waitress, and asked for a beer and her telephone number.

"Leadership qualities, Hiroshi, that..." Kenji began, but stopped upon seeing Serph's hand raised almost imperceptibly from the table. The topic was to be dropped. "I was thinking of traveling to the capital tomorrow. There are a few things I would like to do there."

"You could come to my class too!" Kiros interjected, grinning.

"It's *your* class," Ayumi said, rolling her eyes in Kiros's direction. "You *are* planning to teach your students something, right?"

"Sorry, Kiros. I have to meet with my former teacher in the afternoon. Will you," he gestured to both Kiros and Serph, "be available in the evening?"

"I'm always up for fun, ya?"

Serph nodded once.

"Ayumi?"

"Sorry, guys. I've got a date."

"Oh?" Kiros asked. "Who's da lucky guy?"

"Me," Hiroshi said.

"Uh, no." Ayumi deadpanned

"It's true," Hiroshi continued, drama infusing every syllable. "She asked, no begged, me, but I just couldn't say yes."

"And why would that be?" Ayumi responded. "It is because I never asked you? Or," she smirked evilly, "does it have something to do with the way you look at Serph?"

Beer gushed from Hiroshi's nostrils. Struggling against an attack of coughing, he stared at Ayumi. "Wench."

"Pig."

"Bitch."

"Bastard."

Kenji looked at Serph. "How long do you think they will keep this up?"

Kiros piped up. "Fifty yen says she slaps him."

"Double it says that he says 'Whatever' and storms off in a huff," Serph responded.

"You're on!"

Ayumi and Hiroshi continued their verbal sparring match. "Kiss my ass," Hiroshi spit out.

"Kiss *my* ass."

"Kiss Serph's ass...oh wait. You already *do* that."

Ayumi's face reddened with frustration. Then the evil grin returned. "Sorry to live out your fantasy."

Hiroshi spluttered for a few seconds. Then he stood abruptly. "Whatever."

They waited for him to leave before Kiros produced the hundred yen. "Dat's why you're da leader."

Serph fanned out the money before laying sixty of it on the table. "Kiros was kind enough to cover the tab this week," he said, eyes sparkling with mirth. "And this," he continued, handing twenty to Ayumi, "is for your spectacular performance. See that Hiroshi gets ten?"

"You're bad!" she said, evil grin diminishing only slightly. The four paladins rose from the table and headed back to the monastery and their quarters.

North Shores Beach

Torokara, Krioval
Saturday, 15 June 1985
10:30 am

Sarina and Varik had realized early that Serph was different from most other children. Sure, he had his temper tantrums growing up, but after he turned five, it was as if he made a conscious decision to be agreeable. Instead, his defiance of authority manifested in creative, and extremely clever ways. The new family home in Valak offered plenty of hiding places, for example, making it almost impossible for the Dekkers to make it to temple on time unless they either grabbed and shoved their son out the door, or they announced their departure an hour early so as to get the impromptu "hide-and-go-seek" episode out of the way. For three years this continued until Sarina got the idea to ask why Serph resisted attending. "Is it boring?" she would ask. "Are the stories too difficult to understand?" Finally, Varik interjected that, like himself, the boy was a nonbeliever. Serph simply shook his head at all of the questions.

"The Gods talk too loud," he eventually said, before returning to a complicated puzzle. Sarina had failed to sleep for three nights pondering the significance of Serph's words, and Varik laughed that the boy was just hearing the downsloping winds against the eaves of the religious building. In any case, the subject was never again broached.

But one alarming aspect of Serph's personality was his total disregard for children his own age. He approached them like they were a scientific curiosity - some throwback to an earlier form of evolution. That is not to say he treated people unkindly; he just "analyzed" and continued on his way. So Varik and Sarina forced him toward more social interactions. Today's "experiment" was at the beach.

Serph rolled his eyes almost the entire time of the trip from Valak to the Kriovalian capital, causing Varik to clench his fists around the steering wheel. He had thought that boys were supposed to *like* spending time outdoors with their fathers. Varik cursed under his breath. It wasn't supposed to be so *difficult*. Not that Serph's grandparents made it any easier, he thought, filling the boy's mind with all manner of stories - tales of war and adventure. Like Serph needs a more active imagination!

"We're here," Varik announced, contorting his face into an approximation of a smile.

Serph looked at his father, expressionless. "May as well get this over with." He continued past, not noticing Varik glower with barely contained frustration, Sarina whispering that he would be well rewarded for sacrificing a Saturday. The boy walked toward the warm water, pointedly ignoring the masses of children playing.

"Hey!" a voice called out.

Serph turned. "..."

"New kid!"

"..."

"What's your name, new kid?"

"...Serph."

"Good name for you 'cause this is *my* beach."

"..." Serph turned and continued toward the water.

"And you can't go in the water unless I say so."

"...why is that?"

"Because I am Hiroshi the Great, and this is all mine!"

"Doesn't Hiroshi mean 'generous'?"

".........maybe."

Serph's face lit up. "So you'll let me go in 'your' water, then?"

"No. I don't want you to."

"Fine then." He turned parallel to the ocean and walked away from the red-haired Hiroshi.

Hiroshi waited patiently. They *all* broke down eventually. Seconds ticked by. After a minute without incident, he took off running after Serph. "Hey *slave* boy!"

"..."

"Yeah. Your name means 'slave', doesn't it?"

Serph looked at the other boy intently for several seconds, occasionally tilting his head as if looking for something.

"What are you *looking* at, *slave* boy?"

"Nothing much." Serph paused. "I'm going in the water now."

"You can't!"

"Sure I can," the Dekker boy said, continuing toward the shoreline. He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. "It's called 'walking'. See?"

Hiroshi trembled with twelve-year-old-bully rage. "You...you're not allowed!"

"..."

Hiroshi charged into Serph from behind, sending them both tumbling in the soft sand. The red-haired boy was definitely stronger, but Serph was just a bit more agile. Also, Serph was hardly concerned with fighting fair. A handful of burning sand flew into his assailant's eyes as Serph extricated himself from underneath the other boy's weight. Hiroshi howled with a combination of pain and rage.

By now, a crowd of children, boys and girls, had flocked to the scene of the melee. Most gasped with surprise when Hiroshi was bested, even temporarily. Both boys stood, and the crowd formed a ring around them. Serph knew what was supposed to happen next. The exchange of childish insults, and then the main event. He waited for the other boy to start.

"You're mother's a whore."

Serph barely blinked. "No, that would be *you*. But since you dress up like my mom, people can't tell the difference. Man-whore."

"Grrrr..."

"Maaaaaan-whooooooore. Hiroshi the Great? Yeah. Great man-whore! Ha ha ha." Serph tensed his abdomen like Grandfather Dekker had taught him the previous summer. Sure enough, when the punch landed, it was effectively blocked. He dodged the next two, put the fourth landed in the middle of his face. Blood dripped from his nose. Still, the Dekker boy looked unfazed.

"Poor bab..." Hiroshi's victory gloating was cut off by Serph's kneecap and a collective squeal from every male onlooker. As he fell to the ground, both sets of parents, Dekker and Andros, arrived at the scene.

Sarina and Elizabeth Andros looked absolutely horrified while Varik and David Andros attempted to avert their gazes from one another. Serph was the first to speak. "Is blood supposed to taste like metal?"

The two noblewomen gave each other a sheepish look that implied a semi-social ladies' outing to discuss the fallout. The men pulled their sons away from one another and dispersed the crowd. Varik's forehead throbbed as he caught Sarina's parting comment to Elizabeth. "Bring Serph next week? Sure, we'd *love* to."

In terms of Krioval's climate, the summer of 1985 was not very unusual. Temperatures were in the low to mid-30s, Celsius, and the gentle summer winds came from the east. But for Varik Dekker, it was the Year of the Intolerably Long Summer, and he was among a handful who cried tears of joy at the first rains of October.

Guild of Paladins

Thursday, 23 September 2003
10:00 pm

The bells tolled the hour, paused briefly, and then resumed. One of the tribal lords had died, and the number of rings would indicate the man's age. People separated from their families drew deep breaths, releasing them only as the number rose above sixty, then seventy. When the ringing continued until the hundred fifth tone, there was silence across Krioval. There could be only one possibility. Sylvan the Builder, former King of Krioval, was dead.

Within Serph, emotion and logic battled. Logic prevailed. "It had to happen eventually," he said stonily, noting with satisfaction that the horde of well-wishers had not yet made it to his quarters.

The door flew open. So much for that. "Hey Serph."

"Shinji?"

"Yeah. Let's get going."

"..."

"You know. To the capital or something. You *have* to go."

"...that doesn't explain why *you* would be going."

"Well, who else is going to do it? Ayumi's crying her eyes out. For that matter, so's Kiros. Kenji took the celebration a little too hard...heh. That leaves Hiroshi. I'm going with 'no' on that one. And you can't go alone."

Serph chuckled. "I'm a big boy, Shinji. I think I can handle a trip from Andretara to Torokara by myself. Besides, you can't leave your sister here."

"Ayumi? She'll be fine. She's got Tevak, or whatever his name is, to take care of her for a few days."

"..."

"C'mon, Serph. Even *you* might need a shoulder to cry on. Or at least to catch the ice cubes as they come out."

This got a full laugh from the older paladin. "Careful now, young one. So much promise ahead of you to go and get yourself killed now."

"Right then." Shinji looked out the window. "They're almost here. I know an escape route."

"I'm sure you do."

"Less talk. More running."

"I think I should at least leave a note."

"Taken care of. Now let's *go*."

They bolted from the room and darted down a corridor. Three left turns and a near-misadventure at a dead end, and they entered the hidden passageway. From there, Shinji produced two tickets for the ferry and grinned at Serph's look of shock.

"You arranged this?"

"Well, I bought them in advance...when I heard about the promotion. You need to take some time off, Serph."

"..." They boarded, and managed to evade recognition. Once they had settled into their compartment near the center of the ship, the two men breathed a sigh of relief. Then Serph's expression became extremely serious.

"My grandfather's dead, Shinji."

The younger paladin touched the Serph's arm lightly. "Yeah. I know."

Serph half-smiled, though his gaze was fierce. Softly he said, "Good." And then he reclined and quickly fell into a deep sleep, leaving Shinji to ponder his words. Ultimately, he decided, it didn't matter. Serph was a good man - far better than he felt he deserved. He had even kept every aspect of their relationship secret, and treated Shinji no differently from any of the other paladins publicly.

Shinji Machida lay his head on Serph's chest, listening to the other man's rhythmic breathing until he too slipped from consciousness.

*********************************************************

When the others arrived in Serph's room, they noticed first a total lack of Serph. Seeing the note, Ayumi again burst into hysterics.

"Let's *read* the thing first, all right," Hiroshi growled. He motioned to Kenji.

The stoic man picked up the note and read it silently. His expression became one of total confusion. "Why would Shinji kidnap Serph?"

"Let me see that," Ayumi snapped, pulling from the arms of Tevak.

Dearest Friends,

I regret to inform you that I have taken your Glorious Leader (well, mine too) to an undisclosed location otherwise known as Torokara. He will not be harmed, though I make no assurances about my own safety when alone with him. Your (our) Glorious Leader can be pretty tough sometimes.

Anyway, in exchange for some much needed peace and quiet, your (our) Glorious Leader will be returned to you in the shape in which he left - but more rested. Any attempt to contact me will be met with much finger-pointing and possibly even the sticking out of my tongue in your direction.

Very Sincerely Yours,
[Lord] Shinji Machida
Paladin, Fourth Rank

P.S. - Promote me, Serph!

P.P.S. - Earn it like everybody else. ~Serph

"SHINJI!!!!!"

"Well, den. Best be goin', ya? Hup hup!"

"There goes *my* weekend."

Kriov Fortress

Near Torokara, Krioval
Wednesday, 10 June 1990
7:00 pm

"You called for me, Grandfather?" The younger man tried to sound at least modestly respectful. It was an incredible challenge.

"Serph. Today is your eighteenth birthday. You should start thinking about starting a family of your own."

Serph struggled to not roll his eyes. Sarina had warned him about this conversation. Sylvan had given her the same one almost twenty years earlier. He also struggled to not ask his grandfather why *he* was allowed to delay marriage and child rearing until his late forties. "I have thought on it a bit."

"Anyone in particular? After all, have reached my ninety-second full year."

A guilt trip. Great. Serph thought quickly. "There...are a few, I suppose."

"I mean girls, Serph." So it was to be *that* conversation. Sylvan sighed. "Look, it is perfectly acceptable for the lesser nobility and the commoners to carry on like that. It is even tolerable for those not having reached adulthood to try such strange things. But for the grandson of royalty..."

"You mean the *son* of royalty. The Kriov line did not end with you, Grandfather."

"Whatever. I will not allow this family to be dishonored by..."

When Serph spoke, his voice was clear and cold. "Dishonor? Did you honor the Kriov line by killing twenty thousand people? Did you honor Krioval by fleeing when your leadership was needed most? Never speak to me of honor again. And never speak to me about my choice of partners. It is none of your business."

Sarina's voice traveled up the stairway and into the study. "Serph, father, we're ready!"

Warmth flooded into Serph's voice. "I can hardly wait! I'll be right there."

He wheeled on Sylvan, frost returning. "Just do us all a favor and die."

*********************************************************

Adele Kriov Memorial Hospital
Three Years Later

Sylvan Kriov had become increasingly erratic in mood since Serph's eighteenth birthday, and despite a battery of medical tests, no definite cause could be determined. When he finally had a stroke in December 1992, there was almost a sense of relief in the former king's household - finally, there was an explanation for his symptoms. But Sylvan refused to succumb to the damage, even as it worsened. Unable to talk or move the left side of his body, the Kriov lord clung desperately to life.

Serph made a point of visiting him every month. After each of his visits, the hospital staff remarked on how the former king's health rallied. Serph publicly theorized that the incredible stamina of his grandfather had been forged on his eighteenth birthday. "We really understood one another after that day," he said, citing that they used to fight in his early teenage years. "We never fought again. It was nothing short of miraculous," he would gush, eyes twinkling in the hospital's fluorescent lighting. "I only hope he holds out long enough to see me start my own family."

On his twenty-first birthday, out of sight of any meddling doctors or nurses, Serph sauntered into Sylvan's private hospital room. "Happy birthday to me," he said, smiling grimly. "And what a gift you have for me this year. Of course, I can't just take that ring." He sighed melodramatically. "If only..." The paladin walked toward the respirator controls and paused, drinking in the fear cascading off the old man. He laughed. "Sorry, old man. I am not a murderer like you. In fact," he continued, "I intend to use every available resource to keep you alive as long as possible. Who would turn down another year of this?" His grin was evil and triumphant. "I have no more time to waste on you."

*********************************************************

For Serph, his revenge was to be carried out for the next eight excruciating years. In total, he calculated that Sylvan suffered just under eleven years imprisoned in his body - a bit less than amount of time that the former king had, by Serph's findings, lectured him on honor and integrity.

Approaching Torokara, Krioval

Friday, 24 September 2003
2:30 am

Serph woke first, and noted with some satisfaction the sleeping form of Shinji. How they had got to this point was through a series of unlikely events. Serph was seven years older than the smaller paladin, and had originally been Shinji's instructor. That had been six years earlier, when Shinji had graduated, and at the age of 16, entered the Guild. The relationship naturally did not begin there, as Serph was honorable and Shinji innocent (for that matter, so was Serph). No, it started two years ago, the older paladin recalled. The sakura were in full bloom, it was the height of spring, and Serph completed a very complicated experiment involving matter/energy transition. So why not celebrate? He had to admit that the younger man had him at "Good morning, Glorious Leader."

It was nearly impossible to keep secrets in Krioval, but Serph was a master with computer networks - it was hardly a challenge for him to have effectively been in two places at the same time. So even if some of their mutual acquaintances marveled at the fast friendship between the novice paladin and his former instructor, they were in the dark on the details. Serph had made it very clear that Shinji was free to tell anybody he wanted. Now, though, people would figure it out. Why else would Serph run off at Shinji's behest?

"Hey, Shinji. We're almost there."

Sleepily, the younger man responded, "Five more minutes," and attempted to pull Serph's torso closer.

"I'm not your pillow. Get up already."

Thirty seconds later, Shinji was bounding around as if he had risen from a full evening's rest. Serph was mildly envious. "Tell me why you said it's 'good' that your grandfather's dead, Serph."

He had expected the question. "We fought for most of the past twenty years."

"Since you were nine?"

"Technically, since I was seven."

"About what?!"

"The definitions of honor and integrity, mostly. And that I was evil to like guys. That figured big into the lectures."

"Wow. He sounds like he was a real nutcase."

"Toward the end, we all were forced to wonder. There are things worse than death, and I believe that he has suffered enough now. So it is 'good' for it to be over with." Serph detailed the events of the past eleven years.

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up, Serph. Still, I'd have done worse."

"Worse?"

"I'd have cut off his supply of anesthesia."

Serph swiveled his head to meet Shinji's eyes. "Remind me to not get on your bad side," he said, trying not to smile but failing.

Shinji laughed. "Like you couldn't handle me."

"I find that you can be quite...difficult...at times."

"And I find that you can be totally impossible. I can't compete with you, Serph. Anyway, let's get going. Look at the corpse, get the medal, and go back home. Maybe take a day off..."

Kriov Imperial Fortress

Friday, 24 September 2003
7:00 am

"Serph?" Sarina came running down the staircase.

"Yes, Mother."

"And you must be Shinji."

The younger man swiveled to face Sarina. "Yes. It is good to meet you, Lady Kriov."

"Oh, you can call me Sarina. Something tells me that I will be seeing more of you, so we might as well be comfortable around one another."

Shinji blushed furiously. "Uh..."

"Oh, and Serph, you may want to look at this. It's from your grandfather."

"I may as well. Shinji?" The two paladins climbed the staircase and settled into an antique sofa in Sylvan's old study. It seemed the appropriate place to view the contents of the former king's disc. The image fluttered to life.

Serph. When you receive this, it will be eleven years after we last spoke - or thereabouts. Of course, I am certain that you will have had plenty opportunity to tell me things in the interim, and that they will be things I will not want to hear. Let me start out by saying that this mess is entirely my fault.

Fate is a cruel mistress, Serph, and she has exacted her price for helping me once. When one seeks to control events of the future, one sacrifices the freedom to alter it. But I did far worse. I sacrificed the freedom of those who had not yet been born. I am afraid, Serph, that yours is a destiny deflected, one that will play out in one of only a handful of ways.

I see you stand before an army of fearsome demons. I see you stand before the Gods themselves. I do not know what this means for the future of Krioval, except that somebody must beat back the evil that threatens our way of life. I had thought that Fate might preserve us, and perhaps Fate will see us through. But whatever our transgressions may have been, I do not believe that the innocent should suffer.

Now that I am gone, the agreement that sheltered Krioval from tribal tensions will rapidly fade. So I have broken the agreement early in telling you this. Perhaps there is still a chance that the future can be changed.

"What do you think that means, Serph?"

"I have no idea. But he believed that the Gods were becoming more active in Krioval's future. And 'evil' as well."

"The second Valarok?"

"..."

"We have to look into it, at least."

"I suppose we have no choice, do we?"

*********************************************************

The Citadel of the Gods

The Gods of Krioval immensely enjoyed physical manifestation. So few good opportunities presented themselves. A pale-skinned woman wearing a deep purple dress glided toward the entrance of the Citadel. She appeared angry. "I suppose you thought that was cute, Sylvan Kriov."

Sylvan had been restored to his form fifty years earlier, the very embodiment of strength and vigor. Behind him a few steps was a six-year-old girl. "Adele, sweetheart, why don't you go over there and play while daddy talks to this nice lady here?"

She smiled. "Okay, daddy! Can I see *him* again?"

"Serph?" In a land where time passes as quickly or as slowly as one wishes, Sylvan had simply blocked out the past eleven years' interactions between the paladin and his paralyzed body.

"I like Serph! Can I meet him some day?"

Sylvan stifled both a giggle and a tear. "It may be a while." And then there were some aspects of temporality that were harded to manipulate.

Adele pouted. "You always say that!"

"Go on now," Sylvan said, kindly but firmly. He waited until the girl walked off a bit before turning his attention to the furious woman nearby. "Why are you upset, Lady Tara?"

She attempted to smooth over her expression, but failed. "I am hardly upset by the action of a single mortal such as yourself. You made my task a bit more difficult, to be sure, but the second great battle will take place. It is necessary."

"And why is that, exactly?"

"Do not play dumb with me, Sylvan Kriov. Mortals are always trying to do those things which are forbidden to them. You build weapons that can destroy entire planets. You invent systems of morality that doom entire societies to slow, lingering deaths. And you cry to us to solve your problems. Consider your prayers answered. Krioval will remain peaceful and moderately advanced. Of course, this would have been far easier had you not introduced an anomaly into the system. Now there will be a far greater period of disorder and devastation than would otherwise have been necessary."

"Anomaly? If you mean my grandson, then you are correct. Though I feel that what irritates you so much is that you cannot discern his future, or the future of those closest to him." Sylvan grinned. "I wonder why that is."

Tara's eyes flashed brilliantly. "We will discover the ones shielding that one! We will not be deterred! All will be known to those who stood at the Beginning!"

"We will see."

University of Torokara
Division of Interdisciplinary Sciences, Main Auditorium

Friday, 4 July 1997
12:00 noon

"Ladies and gentlemen of all scientific backgrounds, I welcome you to today's keynote seminar. I apologize for the lateness in detailing the topic of this afternoon's talk, but once it is over I trust that my secrecy will be understood, if not approved." Rei Miyamoto surveyed the crowd. The auditorium was packed, including the stairs. Over eight thousand people had managed to cram themselves into just about any available space. She somehow suppressed a giggle at the sight of some people sitting on others' laps. "Without any further delay, then, I present to you researchers Kenji Miyamoto and Serph Dekker."

Kenji went first. Over an hour of technical displays sprang into view and disappeared as his even voice described them in excruciating detail. In a nation where holographics had reached a high level of resolution and spacegoing vessels were on the cusp of faster-than-light travel, some of the technology seemed downright crude. Particle accelerators. Supercomputing. Irradiation. At the same time, the results were astonishing - could basic physical laws of the universe actually be wrong, or more worrying, irrelevant? The scientists' consternation simmered under Kenji's elaborate review of the results, and exploded into an uproar when Serph began explaining the implications.

"As you can see in figure one," Serph intoned, as if discussing the weather, "low-energy mass can be converted into high-energy photons. In figure two, the reverse is illustrated. By subjecting the mass to a stream of high-energy particles on a very tightly controlled frequency and amplitude, the mass develops a series of waveforms specific to that mass. These waveforms can be collapsed in a reverse process to assemble the mass." He smiled exultantly. "In short, the universe is comprised entirely of data, and the Miyamoto process can convert this data from one form to another. Even virtual objects may be able to be synthesized from their informational content."

The roar was deafening. Most of the commotion dealt specifically with the science involved, though some cries of "Heresy!" or "They make gods out of humans now!" could be discerned from the crowd.

"Respected guests," Serph continued, unperturbed by the commentary, "the necessity for innovation is constant in our society. We can project an image across the islands. We can have metal ships move through exotic space to emerge at their destination far earlier than scientists ever thought possible. Even ten years ago, these things were unheard of in Krioval. Possibly," a wry smile forming on Serph's face, "even considered heretical. But that is beyond the scope of this seminar. If there are any questions..." he paused as hands shot up "...we ask that they are deferred until publication is final. The report will be in press this Tuesday in the journal Science. Good afternoon."

Naturally, Kriovalian society refused to wait four days to begin public commentary. The news circuits were pouring forth speculation as early as twenty minutes after Serph's concluding remarks.

The shocking revelation that researchers at the University of Torokara have completed a mass-to-energy ray have sent shockwaves through the greater community. Anti-military protesters were seen gathering outside the university as early as 3:30 pm, insisting that the ray be destroyed and the results discarded. "We don't need another weapon of mass destruction," said Marianne Boxer. "Every time another so-called 'major breakthrough' is announced, it's always the military who wants to get its hands on it."

Others were less concerned about possible military monopoly over the technology, instead focusing on the economy. "Well," William Travers, part-owner of Krioval Airlines, said, "unless the airlines are able to adapt to this technology, we're going to be in a lot of trouble...along with much of the transportation sector." Julie Andros, current Director of Labor, agreed. "Many jobs could be lost if this is developed too quickly."

Rei Miyamoto, principal investigator of the laboratory in which the Miyamoto Ray was constructed and tested, disagreed with the naysayers. "This represents an advance in our understanding of the universe. It is what science exists to uncover." When pressed about possible economic upheaval, she added, "The economy has always absorbed new technology. It is true that carriage builders and bicycle manufacturers were forced to adapt to the onset of the automobile, and telephone companies to the advent of the Internet. This technology is still in its infancy, and will take many years before its ultimate purpose is determined."

General Leo Sokolev, commander of the Kriovalian armed forces, believes that the technology will not fundamentally alter the nature of the battlefield. "Fact is, this 'Miyamoto Ray' isn't the sort of thing that's easily turned into a weapon. Sure, it can convert matter to energy - but it requires energy to do it. Even if modifications allowed the conversion of matter to another form of matter, it'd be too expensive to use on a large scale."

In any case, the impact of the Miyamoto Ray on the Krioval's bustling technological landscape is bound to be tremendous. Still, with the Senate considering legislation to regulate private funding for scientific research this month, the debate is likely to continue: is Krioval pushing technology too quickly?

Part 1 of 3 of "Krioval and Technology"

Torokara Temple
Friday, 24 September 2003
3:00 pm

The body of Sylvan Kriov lay in repose at the center of the sanctuary. Nearest him was his immediate family: Sarina, Katrina, and Serph. Then came the rest of tribe Kriov, and the other eleven founder tribes. Continuing outward were other individuals of influence, senators not in a founder tribe, and foreign visitors. The memorial was brief, lasting only an hour. The king's legacy had been mostly positive, though many silently recounted the outcomes of Sylvan's more impulsive actions - Bralos had burned, his resignation had thrown the economy off for five years, and his steadfast refusal to name his successor to the Kriov tribe had caused no small amount of concern among the surviving leaders. Still, the last concern was about to be addressed.

"And now," came a reedy male voice, "as dictated by tribal traditions, I will now read the final statements of Sylvan, leader of the Kriov tribe."

Ladies and gentlemen, senators, leaders of the great tribes of Krioval, these are my final instructions to be read to you the day following my death. As many of you know, I have been in bad health for several years now, and creating this document was difficult. Thus, I apologize for its brevity.

First, the boring. My properties are to be divided as follows. The Kriov Fortress is to pass to my daughter Sarina. The Valak and Torokara properties are to be conferred directly to the next tribal leader. All other assets are to be divided one part in five going to my daughter Sarina, one part in five going to the treasury of Krioval, one part in ten going to the Great Temple, and the remaining part to my grandson Serph - all of whom have earned every yen.

Second, all assets are to be transferred within seven days of the reading of this document.

Third, and perhaps most important, is my decision as to whom will best serve the tribe as its leader. I have selected Serph. If there are objections to my selection, they are to be brought immediately and publicly, in accord with tribal law.

That is all. Fare well, Krioval.

Shock was quickly replaced with low grumbling. Some were surprised that the tribal treasury was not specifically granted a portion of Sylvan's estate. Others wondered why the tribal headquarters was being passed within the family rather than to the tribal leader. Most, however, were deliberating whether to challenge Sylvan's nomination. On one hand, they deeply distrusted a man who was both a scientist and a paladin, neither of which bode well for the ancient traditions. On the other hand, to voice such an objection was to contradict the wishes of one of the most revered individuals in the nation. Hastily, several of the smaller families within the tribe quickly responded, "There are no objections!" as the tribal secretary withdrew a notepad from the inner pocket of his coat. Pressure began to mount on the larger families, and Sarina's vote of confidence as titular head of the highest Kriov family sealed the nomination. Dora Kriov, matriarch of the largest household of the tribe, eventually signaled her consent, though it was through narrowed eyes and with pinched voice.

Andruik Dova, High Priest of Krioval, stood and motioned Serph forward. He removed the Kriov tribal pendant from a small table near Sylvan's casket. "I present to the Gods of Krioval, Serph, leader of the great Kriov tribe. May you be blessed with longevity and prosperity."

Serph stood as the priest bent forward to attach the symbol of leadership. "I have need to talk with you," he whispered.

Andruik returned the whisper. "About Sylvan's disc. Tonight."

"Your place or mine?"

The priest snorted lightly, and was pleasantly surprised to see that nobody noticed. "The Great Temple. Bring your comrades as well. This may well concern them." Andruik stood upright again, and his voice returned to its normal, booming tone. "Hail to you, Serph, Lord of the Kriov tribe."

"Thanks to the Gods," Serph replied.

Undisclosed Location
Valak, Krioval
Saturday, 5 July 1997
Late Afternoon

"So we are in agreement, then?"

"I am satisfied. I am to be given full membership, at the third rank."

"We agreed on the fourth."

"*You* agreed on the fourth. *I* said that anything below third would be a waste of my time. You know as well as I do that I can make up the combat deficiency within six months."

"The question remains, Serph Dekker, how do you intend to secure the funding for this little adventure?"

"The Guild will pay its portion. As for the rest, there is plenty of money in the vaults of the Kriov and Dekker tribes. Not to mention the depositories of Krioval itself. The Senate would rather see this technology 'regulated' than to let the private sector control it." Serph paused and smiled wolfishly. "So much insecurity in this world. It would be silly not to take advantage."

"What assurances do I have that you will not fail?"

"This is science, Lord Andros. Failure is part of the territory. Ultimately, I will succeed."

"I expect nothing less from you."

Serph waited until the Chief Paladin had left the future construction site. "I pray for you, Micah Andros, for in several years' time, you will no longer be relevant to my objectives."

*********************************************************

Kriov Imperial Fortress
Friday, 24 September 2003
4:30 pm

"A package from your grandfather, Serph." Sarina held it out. The paladin took it, thanked her, and went upstairs. Inside was a letter from Erik Dekker.

Dear Serph,
I apologize for the manner in which this was done, but circumstances require me to take an extended trip abroad. At my age, it is best to avoid the irritations of successorship to tribal leadership, especially should illness or calamity strike me while away from home. Thus I present the medallion of the Dekker tribe to you, the newest leader. I have taken great pains to secure the blessing of all the great families, and Varik has not voiced a single objection. Wear it well, Serph.

Your loving grandfather,
Erik Dekker

P.S. - Do not despair at my departure. We will be seeing one another before too long. Fate would have it no other way.

The silver medal looked almost identical to that of the Kriov tribe, save for the inscriptions. Two tribes. Almost four million people under his leadership. He remembered Sylvan's letter, and silently thrilled at what was likely to follow.

*********************************************************

Office of the Chief Paladin
Andretara Monastery
Friday, 24 September 2003
4:45 pm

Erik Dekker stood and left the office. Inside, Micah sat stunned by the news. Serph was now in control of two tribes, an unthinkable proposition only the day before. He had not displayed any emotion during Erik's announcement, either of his foreign trip or of Serph's succession. Now he tried not to seethe with rage. The position of Chief Paladin had been in the Andros tribe for centuries. But with the young upstart's meteoric rise both in popularity and exposure in recent years, it was becoming far more likely that Serph, not Valkai or Hiroshi, would ascend to the position of leadership within the Guild. He shuddered violently. Two tribes and the Guild?

"What's next, the Senate?" Micah grumbled. "The hell does he do it, anyway? No matter. Deals can be broken." The Chief Paladin walked out the doors of his office.

"Going somewhere?"

"Erik?!"

"You know, I will never understand the Andros obsession with all things Serph. It is almost like you have it out for him because...why? Because he is successful? You helped make him, Micah Andros."

"Hmph. Your grandson has inherited enough this day. Why should he get the Guild as well?"

"Get the Guild? Interesting perspective. I was under the impression that the Guildsmen and Guildswomen undertook a democratic vote for succeeding Chief Paladins. Are you telling me that tribe Andros is not so popular among the Guild as I have been led to believe?"

"It's not...I mean, it's...well..."

"You do not look well, Lord Andros."

"...he...Serph...enough..."

"Perhaps I should get you to a hospital."

Micah coughed and steadied himself. "Why...all of a sudden...dizzy...?"

Erik jogged to the outer door, not in any particular hurry. He found a guard nearby and brought him to Micah, who was now sitting against the wall, struggling to keep his breath. "Go get help," he said evenly. When the guard disappeared, he returned his attention to Micah. "Now do not die on me yet, Micah Andros," he said almost mirthfully. "There are still many things to discuss."

The first guard and another hurried into the corridor, and picked up the semiconscious Chief Paladin, and half-dragged him to a stretcher. Erik followed, as if to see that Micah's condition did not spontaneously worsen. When he was sure that the Andros lord was stabilized, he walked slowly from the room. There was no need to be there as the medical crews did their job. Erik had a rough idea of the severity of Micah's sudden illness. Lord Andros would live, but he would likely be incapacitated for a month. Just enough time to see leadership transferred.

"One death, one disability, one departure. And so the triad resolves. These gifts for you, son of my son, will be three. This is the second. I trust you will appreciate the third."

*********************************************************

Citadel of the Gods

The Dark Goddess was eminently satisfied with Serph's ascension to the Kriov tribe. The medallion, imbued with her power, enabled her to trace the young paladin's every move. "Do you admire my handiwork yet, Sylvan, of the tribe Kriov?"

"That remains to be seen, my Lady. If I were you, however, I would not begin my celebrations too early."

Tara glowered at the former Kriovalian monarch. "It is already done. His fate is sealed."

Sylvan arched his eyebrows. "Oh really? You have obviously been neglecting recent matters."

"There is little that could..." The Goddess stopped, and her already pale skin went completely white. "Where did he *go*?!"

"Where did *who* go?" Sylvan asked innocently.

"Serph Dekker! He is invisible to me! It is as if...where did he get that?"

"Erik Dekker. I suppose his amulet confers a different sort of energy field. I never knew."

"Erik...Erik...the name is familiar to me, and yet...no! It cannot be! How has he hidden in plain sight for eighty mortal years?! Well, if he intends to remain...where did *he* go now?!"

Sylvan concentrated, and before him, a small cardboard container appeared, hoving in mid-air. He reached in and grabbed a handful of ethereal popcorn. "I must admit, my Lady, this land truly is paradise."

Great Temple Courtyard
Tarusen, Krioval
Friday, 24 September
7:00 pm

Several small groups met at the entrance to the Great Temple of Krioval. At first, they did not recognize one another, but as they moved from the twilight into the illuminated gateway, there were several gasps and yelps of surprise.

"Shinji." The voice was feminine and enraged.

The young paladin attempted to position himself with Serph between himself and the source of the voice. "Uh...hey, Ayumi. Nice weather, isn't it? Heh heh..."

"I swear, when I get my hands on you...Serph! Congratulations on your promotions, all three of them." Ayumi warmed considerably in the lead paladin's presence. "Just a quick question, though. How long has...this...been going on?" she asked, gesturing toward Serph and the cowering figure clinging to Serph's right arm.

"Two years." Another female voice, almost syrupy, cut into the conversation. "Though I must admit, they were incredibly careful about it. Even I found it difficult to figure everything out. But I did nonetheless," she concluded, obviously satisfied with herself.

"Angeline Trekal." Kenji approached her, his face eerily devoid of expression. "For what reason were you following other paladins?"

"I was bored."

"Not to mention a total bitch," Shinji muttered.

"What was that?!"

"'Ey! Leeeead-ah!" Kiros looked toward the still-cowering figure of Shinji. "So, dat's why you ran off so fast!"

Hiroshi followed behind the hyperactive paladin. "Jeez. Say it a little louder. I'm sure there's someone in Tarusen who didn't hear you."

Kiros took a large breath. Serph gestured a hasty negative, and Kiros deflated. Enthusiasm undimmed, however, he ran to the leading paladin and threw a huge arm over his shoulder. Serph turned his head downward to avoid losing an eye to Kiros's dreadlocks. Just another ordinary day, he thought.

"So, Saafu," Kiros said, using the Japanese pronunciation to avoid the "r" within the other man's name, "why dis one? I mean, dere's lots o' paladins, ya?"

"Um, Kiros? I'm standing right here," Shinji said, rolling his eyes at the dark paladin.

"Serph, there are a lot of things I never want to hear, and that's near the top of the list," Hiroshi added.

"Oh? What's at da top then?"

Serph started snickering. The laughter crescendoed despite Hiroshi's death glare, receding only when Serph ran out of air. He regained his composure, and almost convincingly said, "It's not that interesting, really."

Behind the growing group appeared Valkai Andros and Kentaro Takahara. The latter had been studying with the former, and were surprised that they both had received a summons to the Great Temple. Valkai noticed Serph quaking with laughter and ran toward him. He whispered something in the other paladin's ear and they both dissolved into gales of violent giggling.

"Valkai, you may be twelve years older than me, but I swear, you tell *anybody* about that and I'll kill you," Hiroshi growled.

"All right, boys. I think we should be going inside now. Tevak?" Ayumi led the way into the opening doors of the Great Temple.

*********************************************************

Great Temple Sanctuary
7:20 pm

Kenji walked up to Andruik Dova. "High Priest, perhaps you can tell us why we were called here this evening."

"Of course. Please follow me. We can converse as we walk." They crossed the floor to the center of the domed room before turning right. From there, Andruik unbolted a large bronze door and passed through it, beckoning the group to follow. "Many priests have reported unusual omens, strange visions, and the like," he began.

"Don't they always," Hiroshi grumbled.

"Perhaps, young one. Yet these visions were verified by an unlikely set of sources."

Shinji looked at the High Priest. "One was Sylvan Kriov."

"Correct. Another was your father, Isamu Machida. Does anybody know of the third?" Andruik asked, looking pointedly at Kenji.

"Aunt Rei."

"Very good. It did take some time to understand the impact of what we were seeing. Most unusually, our sacrifices were unsuccessful in clarifying their intent. Yet of greater concern was the weakness that struck several clerics investigating the phenomena. Removing them from the environs of the temples had the surprising effect of restoring their vitality almost immediately."

"So it's a curse," Hiroshi said. "Can't you just break it?"

Andruik smiled. "That depended on our ability to determine its origin."

"To break a curse," Kenji intoned, "one must either destroy or otherwise neutralize its source."

"I can't think of anybody who would actively afflict the temples," Valkai said gravely. "If nothing else, the promise of retribution would be a deterrent."

"Unless," the High Priest continued, "the source of the affliction was more powerful than that of the temples."

"How can that be?" Ayumi shouted. "The temples hold the work of the Ancient Ones themselves!"

"That is true," Andruik conceded. "But who controls those works? We have labored to understand their mysteries for years, but our primary purpose has been to protect them from others, and possibly to protect others from their misuse."

"The Miyamoto Ray." Kenji looked intently at the High Priest. "The Ancient technology included this possibility."

It was Andruik's turn to be stunned. "How...how did you know that?"

"It is the only logical explanation. The tribal amulets were created with that technology. It is from where their properties are derived."

The High Priest recovered. "Also true. Each with its own 'energy signature', if you will."

Kenji interrupted. "I have a question. When Lord Sylvan died, did the intensity of the unusual manifestations rise?"

"Yes."

"And when Lord Erik gave his medallion to Serph, did the manifestations become quiet?"

"Yes."

"I strongly suggest you tell us the entire story, then, High Priest."

Andruik sighed. "Very well. Lord Erik visited the Great Temple two months ago on business. When he arrived, the manifestations stopped suddenly, only to return upon his departure. I did not realize the connection for several weeks, but when I did, I asked him to come back. With the neutralization field, I was able to penetrate to the depths of the temple vaults, where we are going now. All of the ancient doors opened to my tribal medallion save for one. Neither myself nor Lord Erik could compel the release of its seal. We hoped that one tribe might be able to open the door."

Kenji spoke in an exasperated tone. "For what purpose, precisely?"

"I believe that the Sacred Torch has been corrupted, and may soon be extinguished."

"Interesting. And so you want to see which of us is the one who can grant you access to the Torch. Why not simply force your way into the chamber? Why not simply tell us this at the outset?"

"The Torch is a symbol of Krioval's endurance. Should word get out that the Torch is in danger, panic would spread across the entire land."

Shinji snapped his head upward. "Sylvan's vision of civil war."

Andruik nodded. "If one can gain access to it, the Torch may be successfully restored."

They stopped at the immense door, appearing to be made of bronze, but being shockingly warm to the touch. On it was an inscription, in the ancient language of Krioval. Only one who lives in opposition may pass. A slave born to nobility. The darkness and the light combined, yet separate. The virtuous, yet corrupt. Only this being shall enter the chamber of the Sacred Torch.

As the group pondered the meaning of the phrase, one walked calmly forward and thrust his arms into the circular openings on either side of the doors' seam.

"What are you doing?" Andruik exclaimed.

A metallic female voice boomed. "You who bear the identity of both tribe Kriov and tribe Dekker, have you earned these titles by blood and merit?"

"Yes." A click could be heard from behind the doors.

"But how is he both virtuous and corrupt?" Ayumi asked, concerned.

"He has greatly enriched his tribe over the years, and given charitably during that time," Kenji said. "As for corrupt, though..."

The voice continued. "You have given much to your tribe. Your virtue is noted. However, your will has overriden the directive to expand the tribe. Your corruption is noted."

"Ouch," Shinji gulped. "That's pretty rough."

"Behold the wisdom of the Ancients," Ayumi said sarcastically.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Hiroshi said, far less sarcastically. Valkai cuffed him on the back of the head. The device behind the door clicked again.

The voice started again. "Your noble birth is confirmed. Yet you are not a slave." Ominous sounds began emanating from behind the doors.

"You are wrong."

"Explain."

"I am born to nobility. But yet, I am Serph."

"Serph..." The voice had a faraway sound to it. "...your explanation is sufficient." A third and much louder click sounded. "Withdraw from the mechanism at once," the voice said indifferently. "Proceed...Serph."

Behind the paladins and High Priest, a man and woman ran frantically toward them. "What do you think you're doing?!" they screamed at once.

Andruik looked at them. "Brother." He returned his focus to the group. "We need to run. Now."

Saravi Tyvok had never been on time for anything in her life. This evening was no exception. So as she delicately walked down the temple stairs, the drama between the paladins, the High Priest, and Branok Dova was just beginning to unfold.

"Andruik. You swore to never reveal the secret of that room," Branok growled. "As tribal leader and as High Priest both you swore."

"Get going," the High Priest half-whispered to the group near him. "Things are not as they appear," Andruik continued in a soothing tone. "The Gods..."

"The Gods have taken care of Krioval for longer than you! Who are you to question their logic?"

"Listen, please. We are here to stabilize..."

Branok drew a small gun. "Stop right there, Dekker!"

Serph cursed mentally. He had made it to the Torch, and could see the source of the imbalance, though he was unsure how he had detected it. If only he could...

"Don't you dare touch that." He pulled the trigger. Saravi tripped on the fourth step. The bullet flew wide, instead piercing the heart of the Sacred Torch. Serph flung himself to the ground even as the Torch grew steadily brighter. Then it suddenly flickered out entirely, plunging the room into darkness.

The ground rumbled as the emergency lights outside the chamber illuminated. The priestess-in-training, Isabel Kital, scrambled for the steps. "I never signed up for this," she gasped, eyes wide with horror. She made it halfway up before the room and corridor exploded in blinding light. As its intensity faded, multicolored rays flew out from the shattered Sacred Torch. Serph was the first to be struck, but the others soon felt the energy pass through them as well. Isabel managed to scream out a warning before the last ray enveloped her left foot.

Several minutes passed in silence before the transformations began. "GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGHH!" Serph still looked human, but he was taller, his hair was lighter and longer, and he floated above the ground. In a better mood, he might have passed for angelic. But his thoughts were anything but as he surveyed the remains of the Torch. Vengeance. Hunger. As Serph's eyes locked on the figure of Branok Dova, he realized that those needs could be satisfied at the same time. He roared with anger and flew at the priest. Branok's scream died in his throat as Serph landed atop him, put his fist through the older man's midsection, and began hungrily consuming what remained.

Behind Serph, the others had experienced their transformations as well, though with different outcomes. A large white tiger landed next to Serph, they regarded one another coolly, and without so much as a grunt, determined that there was plenty to share. A large, red, armor-plated creature growled in frustration. "Don't hog it all!"

At the top of the staircase, Isabel had just run into the arms of a horde of priests, who had heard the commotion and feared for the Great Temple's security. She turned into a terrifying harpy (moreso than usual) and devoured the first in the pack. The others, including the High Priest, found the remainder of the rescue team to be sufficient to stem their voraciousness. Soon after, the ten paladins and three priests collapsed, reverted to their ordinary forms, and rapidly fell asleep.

*********************************************************

Citadel of the Gods

"Branok Dova has been lost to me," Tara screeched.

A male voice spoke softly and slowly. "He destroyed the Sacred Torch, and attempted to murder a tribal leader. As such, he is mine."

"Serph Dekker is not a simple tribal leader," she protested.

"Perhaps not now, but had you left well enough alone..."

"The Great Plan is not to be altered!"

"The 'Great Plan' has already been altered. The Asura has been released. And I will remind you that *that* particular outcome was your guy's fault. Thus the punishment. I am sure that Serph will find Branok Dova's talents to be useful in what is to come."

"And what, exactly, would that be?"

"My Lady, you are the Dark Queen, the Goddess of Fate, and up until recently, the possessor of all knowledge. If you are unsure of the outcome, then things are moving even faster than originally thought."

"You of all beings should know that the future is cloaked, even to the Gods. If it was not," she said coyly, "you would not find yourself in your current position."

"My position is about to change, dramatically, and for the better, my Lady."

"We will see about that, accursed one."

"Yes, we will. And soon."

*********************************************************

"Eeeeeeeeeeek!" The little girl ran screaming toward Sylvan. "Daddy!"

"Now, now, sweetie. What's the problem?"

"Serph! He...he...*ate*...someone!"

Sylvan viewed the events in his mind's eye. "Branok Dova, you are an idiot beyond compare," he muttered. "It's all right," he said, looking at Adele, who was on the verge of tears. "It wasn't his fault."

An ethereal tear was wiped by an ethereal sleeve. "Huh?"

"He didn't want to do that."

"He...didn't?"

"Of course not. You've been watching him for how long now?"

"...long."

"Did he ever eat anybody before?"

"...no. But someone should tell him to not do that again!" Adele stood with her hands on her hips, her attempt at a stern look destroyed by the tears still in her crystal blue eyes.

"I think that can be arranged," Sylvan said softly. He would miss her, but perhaps it was for the best.

Great Temple Vault
Saturday, 25 September 2003
1:30 am

Serph regained consciousness and looked around. The corridor was, surprisingly, lacking in gore. We are not wasteful, then, he thought. The others were not moving, and while Serph felt that a quick departure was in order, he was far more concerned with the prospect of inducing a second transformation. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small computer. To most, it looked like a simple calculator. Yet the paladin had converted it into a network scanner. He plugged into the Temple's main computers.

So far, no alarms had been raised, possibly due to Branok's attempt to surprise his brother. The doorway marking the secret passageway had been sealed. Good. Nobody would realize that anything was amiss until morning. That left him about five hours to figure out exactly what happened. To do that, Serph realized, he would need to use the laboratories in Valak. And Kenji would have to be awakened. Serph did not have to wait long. About ten minutes after Serph recovered, the rest of the group slowly struggled toward consciousness.

"What...what was that?" Ayumi gasped, eyes wide with horror and astonishment.

"Just a nighttime snack," Hiroshi said, grinning as Ayumi's expression turned to one of revulsion.

"I think I might be sick," came the voice of Isabel.

"That would be inadvisable," Kenji countered. He walked to the shattered ruins of the Sacred Torch, micro-sensor in hand. "We are fortunate. The Torch has discharged all of its energy. All that remains is to seal the vault and to leave this place."

Serph nodded. Andruik pulled himself to his feet. "There is a separate power generator for this area. There is also a self-sealing mechanism that can be activated. It was to be used in the case of an invasion, but I suppose this counts."

"Wait!" Isabel squealed. "You can't go with him, High Priest! He *ate* fifty of us!"

Kentaro looked at her intently. "Technically, he only ate seven. You had two, Instructor Hiroshi had eight, Instructor Ayumi had..."

"The point is made," Ayumi said hastily. "We all did this, and while *some* of us might like to do it again," she continued, a dark look cast in Hiroshi's direction, "we need to know how to prevent it happening again."

"Follow me," the High Priest said. "The control room is this way. I trust that you have some way of determining the nature of this...event...Lord Dekker?"

"All things are made first and foremost from data," Kenji answered. "The center at Valak should be able to discern what has changed, and how."

"Then let us get this over with before it becomes public knowledge," Andruik said. "I suspect that fifty missing priests will be noticed before much of the day has passed."

Guild of Paladins
Division of Applied Research

Valak, Krioval
2:45 am

"Director! We were not expecting you this late," a security guard said, confused by Serph's presence at the laboratory. "Is something wrong?"

"Of course not," Serph replied, the slightest hint of condescension slipping into his voice. "I was having some difficulty sleeping, so I thought I might check the replication experiments."

"Still, at this hour..."

The paladin spun to face the guard. "Is that a problem? I am hardly the first scientist to do work at quarter to three in the morning, after all."

"I suppose, sir."

Serph took the opportunity to break off the conversation, and he briskly walked through the lobby to a stairwell. He descended a flight of stairs and then made his way through the basement until he arrived at an emergency exit. Instinct almost compelled him to begin hacking the alarm mechanism when the paladin realized that this was his building. Serph entered a code, which disabled the warning system, and opened the door.

"It's cold out tonight," Hiroshi grumbled, pushing past Serph into the warm basement.

"Why not just have us come in the front, if you're allowed?" asked Tevak.

"And what would Serph tell security. 'Just stopping by, in the dead of night, with the High Priest and a handful of paladin-initiates'? Somehow I doubt that would have got the desired response," Ayumi said, heavy on the sarcasm.

Serph motioned toward an elevator. "Yes," Kenji agreed. "We should hurry."

*********************************************************

"Seventh floor, luggage, furniture, and ladies' lingerie," Shinji said as the elevator reached its destination.

"No men's lingerie?" Hiroshi deadpanned, shoving the younger paladin out of the way as he exited.

"Upset?" Ayumi countered, walking past Hiroshi as the other girls giggled and the men tried not to.

"Goodness, I had no idea of the size of this place," Andruik said. "What on earth is the Guild doing with this space?"

"Miyamoto ray research, energy transferring, things of that nature," Kenji responded.

"You mean like teleporting and replication?"

Serph stopped. Kenji grabbed the question first. "Those and other applications. I believe we may have equipment on this floor that may explain the Temple manifestations."

"Temple manifestations?" Ayumi asked, incredulous. "You do realize that we are the first to actually *eat* a human being in Krioval in over five centuries."

"It is a fitting description," Kenji returned indifferently.

"If you say so. I just want to know how to make it stop."

"What's wrong, eat something that disagreed with you? Publicly?"

Ayumi closed the distance between herself and Hiroshi almost instantly. *SMACK* She turned and ran down the hallway.

Serph realized that the situation was nearing its breaking point. "Kiros."

"Ya?"

"Take everybody not needed in the lab to the conference room. Try to keep them entertained."

Kiros lit up. "You can count on me!"

"Hiroshi, Tevak, stay with the High Priest and Priestess Kital."

"Of course, Serph," Tevak said gravely.

"Think there's gonna be some fighting?" Hiroshi asked, obviously hoping so.

"Kenji, Shinji, begin the analysis. I will be there shortly."

Serph waited for a few seconds for the group to disperse. Then he went to find Ayumi. He didn't have to look for long. He pushed open the door to the women's toilets.

The sobbing stopped just long enough for Ayumi to spit out, "I swear to whoever happens to be listening that if you come in here, I'm going to..."

"Eat me?" Serph ventured.

Laughter mixed in with the crying. "That's not funny, Serph."

"Probably not," he said flatly.

More laughter. "Then why did you *say* it?"

"Because I appreciate fair warning?"

"You're worse than Hiroshi sometimes," she said, though not entirely seriously.

"Well, I am the leader." Serph paused, and reached for some paper towels. "Here."

Ayumi's sniffling diminished, and she looked up at Serph as she dabbed her eyes. "Why is it," she asked, "that all the good ones are taken?"

"Ask your brother."

Ayumi punched Serph lightly on the shoulder. "Now that was something I didn't need to think about."

"Anyway, whenever you're done, I'll be outside."

"Hmph. Just like a man. Over and done with in three minutes."

"Depends on who I'm with," Serph quipped as he dodged an airborne wad of paper towels. "Take your time."

Once Serph had left, Ayumi stood and walked to the mirror. "Such a waste," she whispered, "when the one you want can't want you in return." She threw out the paper towel ball into the trashcan and walked out of the bathroom. There was Serph, at the opposite wall, trying to look indifferent and failing. Ayumi offered him her right arm. "Shall we?"

3:50 am

In the conference room, only Kiros and Hiroshi were still awake. "'Ey dere! You still goin'?"

"Yeah." Hiroshi had found it impossible to dislike Kiros, despite his extremely close association with Serph. But then, what was Kiros able to do that Hiroshi couldn't do better?

"Been sittin' too long. Gotta *run* or somethin', ya know?"

Right. Kiros could run. And judging by his earlier transformation, in the right form, fly. "Can't. Boss's orders and all."

"Dat's too bad." Hiroshi had to keep from laughing at the sight of the normally silly paladin pouting.

Ayumi walked into the room, having decided to face the source of her earlier antagonism. "Where did everybody go?"

"Oh, dey're all asleep. Over dat way." Kiros gestured toward a room across the hall. Researchers occasionally spent the night, apparently, and the room had been outfitted with several cots. The less lucky of the group went off to commandeer couches from other meeting rooms.

"Could I speak to Hiroshi for a minute?" Ayumi asked sweetly.

"Uh...ya..." Kiros was obviously thinking very intently. "Oh! You two don't have too much fun!" His goofy grin was the last thing Ayumi saw before she gently closed the door.

Ayumi scrambled onto the couch where Hiroshi sat. "Where to begin," she said seductively. Waiting until her weight had greatly reduced Hiroshi's mobility, she reached down with one hand, grabbed, and twisted with all her strength. The look on Hiroshi's face indicated that she had reached her target. "Now that I have your undivided attention, there's something I'd like to say." She paused as Hiroshi grunted from the pain. "I'm not normally given over to violent impulses, unlike some people I know, but if you ever, and I do mean *ever*, try to embarrass me like that in front of anybody, especially Serph, and I will make what you're experiencing now seem like fun by comparison." She twisted a bit further to emphasize her words. "Do we have an understanding this time?"

Hiroshi nodded vigorously. Ayumi released him and smiled serenely. "I'll be going now," she said, opening the door to find Kiros practically leaning against it.

"Dat was fast."

Ayumi turned toward the dark-skinned paladin and said, "Let's see what Serph is doing. I think Hiroshi might need a few minutes to...recover." She smirked.

Kiros pulled the doors shut behind them, but not before flashing the striken Hiroshi a double thumbs-up.

*********************************************************

"As you can see from the genetic scans of Serph, this being the 'before' and this being the 'after'..." Kenji patiently explained his analysis, confirming that whatever the changes caused by their exposure to the Sacred Torch, they appeared to have integrated into the affected individuals' DNA sequences.

"In other words," Serph said, "the changes are permanent."

"But we've reversed more damaging things than this," Shinji exclaimed. "Haven't we?"

"That is true," Kenji replied, "but in those cases, the alterations were in one specific area of the genome. This is more widely scattered." He and Shinji continued to debate the effects of the transformation while Serph scanned the volumes of data.

"I have seen this pattern before," Serph said simply. The chatter behind him stopped immediately.

"Explain," Kenji said.

"It is the same pattern, when translated, can be found in the Book of the Gods."

"Is it possible that you are extrapolating this reading?" Kenji asked.

"No. There are three such patterns. The first is 'The Gods demand neither your obedience nor your attentions, for they already have both'. The second is 'And so the lord of demonkind was sealed away within the bonds of fire'. The third is 'Release me, oh Great One who escaped our Fate'."

Kenji skimmed over the data. "You are correct, Serph. There is no other likely interpretation. The changes not common to us are..."

"...the manifestations," Shinji finished. "But they're...part of us now."

"Correct. Further, the divergent data has continued to change, even in the past several hours. This suggests that the manifestations we witnessed are attempting to merge entirely with our biological system. The forces in quesiton appear to be adapting to our personalities and desires."

"Then why did we...you know...back there..."

"Data processing," Serph said. "To modify this much data so quickly, energy was needed in large quantities."

"Fine, but why not just use something like electricity," Shinji countered.

"Not enough power," came Serph's response. "And possibly, because we *wanted* to consume others, on a basic level."

"So we're just going to live the rest of our lives eating people whenever?"

Kenji cut in. "I believe that the transformation does not require such measures, however, without the consumption of massive amounts of stabilizing data, we will likely be overtaken by the manifestation itself. If my projections are accurate, we should be satisfied for at least the next day or two."

"And then?!"

"Then we must consume or potentially revert to a more feral state."

Ayumi and Kiros walked into the lab. "Good news or bad news?" she asked.

"We're stuck this way," Shinji grumbled.

"For how long?!" Ayumi pressed.

"Forever," Serph said, almost indifferently.

Hiroshi burst into the lab - except he wasn't quite Hiroshi. Already the transformation was well underway, with a brilliant red aura surrounding the paladin, and the glowing outline of a large beast with armored plates becoming more solid by the second. He loosed a growl that shook the entire floor.

"Ker tekai so kiedro dan. Soko to kero varokai." A frail voice hastily recited the two verses. Return to nature. May the protective spirit go forth. Hiroshi stopped and turned to face the source of the voice. Andruik Dova did not falter, and he continued with renewed strength. Even as the transformed paladin stomped toward the elderly High Priest, the demon form began to recede, and Hiroshi rapidly returned to himself.

"What was that?!" he growled again, this time shaking only himself.

"The Rite of the Demon Lord," Andruik said simply. "To protect one from the ravages of demonic manifestation."

"So we're a bunch of demons now?" the paladin continued angrily.

"They have names," Serph said. "Yours is called 'Gohki'. It means 'hellfire' or 'world-destroying fire'."

"Does yours have a name?" Hiroshi asked sarcastically.

"It appears that mine is called 'fighting demon'. You might know that better as 'Asura'."

"So it is true, then," Andruik said slowly. "But why would they allow such a being's release?"

Citadel of the Gods

The dark-robed Goddess stared down a brightly colored God. "What do you mean, the Asura has been released?!"

"The agreement specifically stated that the mortals were not to be harmed by your actions."

"The agreement states that they are not to be harmed *directly* by our actions."

"Controlling events from birth to death does not count as direct? Really, my Lady, I had considered you more honorable than that."

"It is necessary," Tara hissed.

"Only from your perspective. From *ours*..."

"Your kind are all alike. The slightest technicality..."

"Wholesale murder and the judgment of souls without free will is not a technicality. The agreement, as it stood, is void. If you wish to renegotiate..."

Tara walked up to the male and reached for his collar. To her surprise, her hands passed through it. "What manner of trick is this, Solokaro?"

He laughed lightly, though sadly. "One cannot be in two places at the same time. You have longed for the second Valarok," Solokaro said evenly, even as his form gradually faded. "It is upon you now."

*********************************************************

Guild of Paladins
Division of Applied Research

6:30 am

Sunrise. The transformed Kriovalians quickly learned that their effects did not include any particular vulnerability to sunlight, despite the mythic texts. Then, they were still unsure of the nature of their "other selves". Also in the "uncertainty" category was what to do next.

"So we've got a neat new trick," Hiroshi said indifferently. "Doesn't change much."

"Well not unless you count the fifty dead priests," Ayumi snapped.

"Fifty *missing* priests," Hiroshi countered. "It's not like anybody's going to find a body, or much else for that matter."

Andruik closed his eyes, collected his thoughts, and opened them again. "The chant can mitigate the effects of transformation," he said. "But I strongly doubt that we can quell them entirely. The question becomes how long we can resist..."

"A few days at most, if one actively fights the urge to devour," Kenji said levelly. "For others, it could be as short a duration as a few hours."

"You mean I'll have to do this again?!"

Hiroshi regarded Ayumi almost nervously. "It means you get to choose your target."

Serph waited for the conversation to die down. "What do the legends say about Asura and the others?"

The High Priest turned to face Serph. "They are described as insatiable, though it is unclear from the readings whether they exist to challenge or to assist the Gods." He cleared his throat softly. "Until six months ago, I would have said that they had fought the Gods for control and lost, but now...there must be some reason for all of this."

"We should return to the monastery," Kenji interrupted. "Chief Micah is rumored to have a collection of esoteric texts related to the battle of the Valarok, the Asura, and the Demon Lord. It may afford us a place to continue our investigation."

"Agreed," the High Priest said. "How will we get there without being spotted?"

"Leave that to me," Serph replied. "Rooftop."

They walked slowly up to the roof - their footfalls echoing in the otherwise empty stairwell. The door at the top resisted slightly, as it was opened seldom and had become easily stuck as a result. It creaked open, and daylight flooded into the stairwell. Serph was the first to exit, and to realize the problem. While the 'Dragon' was sitting on the landing pad, ready to go, it was guarded. By *that* guard. And he was looking at the group as they emerged from the building.

"Director? What's going on?"

"I need to take the High Priest to Guild headquarters."

"What is the High Priest doing *here*?"

Serph blatantly rolled his eyes. "He heard that I was here, and he needed to discuss something with me."

"And the rest?"

"Visiting the High Priest. Is there going to be a problem or not?" Serph snapped. He stared the young man down with a glare that could have made snow fall even in tropical Krioval.

"Um...well...I...um...would need to clear it first."

"Consider it cleared." Serph's voice matched his gaze. He snatched a clipboard from the guard, filled out an authorization notice, and signed it, the whole time motioning the others to board the craft. "Look," he continued, any traces of frost banished from his demeanor, "you are still new to your position, am I correct?" A nod confirmed this. "If you cannot trust the director of this facility, what point is there to security at all? Please feel free to confirm the entry logs and the video if you still have doubts."

Serph walked aboard the 'Dragon' and closed the entry hatch. A few seconds later, he was sitting in the pilot's seat, gently guiding the craft's ascent. He engaged the autopilot, with instructions to head to Andretara, and he gestured for Kiros to take the controls. The director took out his small computer. It resembled a personal digital assistant, and for the most part, it was, except it could get inside a network's firewall faster than Darvek Tyvok could get inside a woman's pants. It was just that fast.

The director powered it on and began rapidly typing instructions. Getting into the Valak laboratory mainframe was easy - it was Serph's home territory, after all. Bypassing some of the security features did present a bit of a challenge, but it was like playing soccer against a bunch of five-year-olds - a diversion, but hardly all that difficult, assuming one had any natural talent whatsoever. He reached his destination, the entry logs. Dova, Andruik, 6:34 am, he entered, taking care to replicate the entry for all of his "guests". Cleared by Dekker, Serph. That part was true, at least. A story as to why a bunch of paladins were following the High Priest around Valak at six-thirty in the morning on a Saturday would have to be concocted, but Serph would leave that to people with better imaginations.

Now came the tricky part. Faking a security tape was notoriously difficult to do well, and Serph was a perfectionist. He had taken simulacra of everybody during Kenji's analysis just in case such measures were necessary. Now he began to array and animate them. In the door at 6:32. Cleared through security at 6:34. On the elevator to the seventh floor at 6:35. Camera goes blank at 6:38 after arrival on the seventh floor. It was hardly going to win "Best Short Animated Feature" at the Academy Awards presentation, but it would do. Upload...Log off.

Serph reclined in his seat, clearly satisfied. Completing a reasonably complicated hack was his second-most favorite thing to do. Well, actually, it had been recently knocked down to third. The paladin may not have described the experience in great detail, but he realized that transforming into the Asura and devouring a particularly obnoxious rival for power was extremely satisfying as well. Call *that* second.

"'Ey! Almost home!"

"Go ahead and land, Kiros. You know what you're doing."

Kiros beamed at Serph. "Right den...let's see...dis one?" The 'Dragon' shuddered violently as Kiros laughed nervously and quickly corrected the mistake. "Sorry 'bout dat!"

They came in a bit fast, but safely. A crowd had already begun to form around the craft as it touched down. "Director Serph!" voices below were calling. "Have you heard about Chief Micah?"

Guild of Paladins - Main Headquarters
Andretara, Krioval
7:25 am

"What about Chief Micah?" Serph asked calmly. Several in the crowd surged forward, but Serph held his palm outward, facing them, and they stopped. He repeated his question.

"He has been taken to the hospital, Director Serph!"
"He was *poisoned*!"
"They don't know that yet!"
"But they will - why else would he just collapse?"

"Who is the ranking member of the Guild here?" Serph asked, scanning the crowd for any evidence of a higher-ranking paladin. "Director Selekar? Director Koh?"

A woman of about twenty years of age stepped forward. "We haven't been able to locate the other Directors," she said simply.

"All four of them have gone missing?" Kenji asked, incredulously. "Where did they go."

"To the Great Temple. They were supposed to meet with the High Priest's brother...oh! Your Holiness!" She curtseyed awkwardly upon recognizing Andruik among the new arrivals. "Have you seen the Directors?"

"Not that I recall." Andruik had a sinking feeling that his lack of memory was the result of conscious suppression.

Serph seized the initiative. "There was an attack on the Great Temple last night. Branok Dova and several others died during the assault. We were ordered to secure His Holiness. Do you mean to tell me that you were unaware of this?" Serph's gaze became almost oppressive.

"N...no," the woman stammered. "I mean, yes," she quickly reversed. "An attack?" She looked utterly confused.

"The power failed shortly before we escaped. We should alert the Temple immediately. I only hope that they didn't seal themselves in the vault. It will be incredibly difficult to find them if that is the case." Difficult, naturally, meant *impossible*. The vault cave-in had been particularly well-orchestrated. It was as if the building's design had specifically allowed for that entire section to collapse on itself without altering the structural integrity of the remainder of the Great Temple. That left one additional question. "In that case, who here holds the highest rank?"

"That would be you, Glorious Leader," Hiroshi said, albeit a bit sarcastically. "So if there are no more questions..." His tone actively discouraged any, and to nobody's surprise, there were none.

Serph looked at the crowd of paladins, and noted that relief was replacing dismay on many of the congregants' expressions. Some people, he realized, needed to be led. So much the better, in that case. "Our first order of business is to get in contact with the Great Temple to assess damage and look for survivors. Second is to make sure that normal Guild activities continue on schedule. To this end, Paladin Kiros will be acting as director of logistics, Paladin Kenji as director of research, Paladin Hiroshi as director of combat training, and Paladin Ayumi as acting headmistress of the academy. All other members of the Guild are to report to their positions as usual. Volunteers to assist the Great Temple should report to Paladin Hiroshi in the Director's Office. You may go now."

The acting Chief Paladin walked to Micah's office slowly, reveling in his new power. That was far easier than he had any reason to expect. The lie being perpetuated was enormous, but had just become manageable - a few faked blocked transmissions to the Great Temple around two in the morning and the entire affair was effectively settled. Micah had become sickened for reasons that were unclear, that much remained unresolved, but Serph knew that recent circumstances were likely to be related. Coincidences were possible even when one was convinced that successive events had a hidden meaning, but going from a newly minted Director in the Guild to being the head of two major tribes and sitting in the Chief Paladin's chair in one day was quite the transformation. And then there was the Asura and company.

People could be misled, to a point. They wanted to believe that all was well with the world, or if not, that the world was screwed up only to the limit of their ability to imagine. Shattering the illusion was devastating to the average psyche, but fortunately, it was also quite difficult. Most would refuse to believe that the lord of both Dekker and Kriov tribes, and the Chief Paladin, was capable of murdering people in cold blood. That this also happened to be true was a bonus. News about the Asura would have to be broken slowly. Should Micah not recover, a possibility that Serph now realized was not only possible, but also likely given recent events, the Guild would be introduced to the concept. If that didn't work, there were other ways. There were always other ways.

"I know what the Chief Paladin does on his weekends, Serph, and it isn't much," the High Priest said, chuckling drily. "Let's get to the reading, then, shall we?" He selected a dusty volume on Kriovalian mythology.

Serph nodded. "Might as well get started."

Adele Kriov Memorial Hospital
Intensive Care Ward
8:00 am

Micah Andros stared at the ceiling. The doctors had not determined the cause of his sudden illness, though Micah could have easily informed them. Somehow, he doubted that they would concur that supernatural curses were the culprit. Then again, the head of the Andros tribe was not fully convinced that Erik's methods were outside the realm of the ordinary. Toxicology tests had come back negative, but there were technologies...Serph could have helped Erik...no.

That was impossible - Serph had to be innocent. Experience leaned heavily in that direction. The Dekker leader was ambitious and calculating, but not impulsive or particularly violent. Micah shuddered despite the relative warmth of the ward. Serph's violent acts were truly spectacles to behold, if for no other reason that his face could snap into a mask of utter indifference mere seconds afterward. Unless a person truly knew the man, that was.

Micah knew Serph better than most. As such, he knew that Serph never considered the Chief Paladin to be a threat. Yes, Micah was in the way, but he realized that when the time had come, that would no longer be the case. Apparently, that time was now. The Lord Andros breathed deeply and quickly fell back asleep.

He dreamed of destruction, of a cataclysmic battle that consumed the entire nation and left nothing but rubble. In the midst of the ruins, he saw a single figure, covered in armor, atop the bodies of fallen soldiers. When the figure removed his helm, Micah saw...

"...the Asura has returned," a voice spoke, jarring the Andros leader from his dream.

"What did you do to me?"

"An ancient rite. For purification."

"Then why am I in the hospital, Erik?"

"Sometimes, the antidote must be extremely powerful to counter a subtle poison."

"..."

"Tell me something, Micah. Would Serph make a good Chief Paladin?"

Micah attempted to shrug, which was not easy on the hospital bed. "Probably better than most," he said off-handedly. "Why?"

Erik withdrew a video recorder. He pressed the play button wordlessly. "You seem to have had an extremely different opinion yesterday. Why is that?"

"I...I don't fully know. Because the Guild has been in my family for years, I suppose."

"Does it strike you as odd that each great tribe has been good at one particular thing for centuries?

"Not really. I mean, parents want their children to follow in the family business, whatever that is."

"And families with many children...up to an entire tribe? How many of your tribe have gone into scientific research or the priesthood?"

"Not very many, I would guess."

"How many Miyamotos and Dekkers do you find in the army?"

"...what are you saying?"

"Why should the tribal divisions be so ordered, Micah? And who would control such an ordering?"

"Are you saying that someone is somehow controlling the tribes remotely?"

"Not 'someone'. Beings of sufficient power to dominate millions of people without their overt knowledge are few and far between."

"The lord of demonkind?"

"Come now, Micah. Would he be all that interested in maintaining a steady and boring equilibrium, where people are predestined to a given life from birth?"

"The Gods, then." He quickly followed with, "but they must have their reasons."

Erik patted Micah on the shoulder. "Rest now. But remember that the Gods do not speak with a single voice. Pray for them," he said, gesturing to the window, "and for what they will soon be pushed into."

Micah closed his eyes, weighed down by the mood. Seconds later, when he opened them, Erik was gone. A nurse walked in to perform her morning checkup.

"Good news, Lord Andros!" she chirped. "You've recovered nicely and we're going to get you your own room now."

"Did you see Erik Dekker on your way in?" Micah inquired, already knowing the answer.

"No, I don't think I did. Though that reminds me. Lord Dekker...I mean, the former Lord Dekker," she giggled nervously, "left a message last night. He said that he was heading out on the first flight to Tokyo and wouldn't be back for at least a month. He did leave this for you." She held out a simple silver chain with a jeweled pendant.

"Very thoughtful of him," Micah said carefully. "Help me to put it on?"

Guild of Paladins
Valak, Krioval
Saturday, 6 December 2003
2:30 pm

The missing directors never materialized. Branok Dova was also unaccounted for. Despite the High Priest's allowing investigators full run of the Great Temple, no clues were ever uncovered - the mysterious circumstances that took place on that fall evening remained that way. Micah Andros did recover quickly, but announced his retirement even before his release from the hospital. Several other paladins vied for the position of Chief, but Serph was supported by his tireless cohort, and he triumphed. The new Chief Paladin's first initiative was to combat gang-related crime, and the Guild delivered on its promises. Gang membership declined over 40% in October alone, at least in cities policied by the highest-ranking paladins. Nobody really paid attention to the number of petty thugs reportedly gone missing. It was enough that security was rising. Hiroshi reassured the few doubters simply enough. "It's a rough job, but it keeps Krioval safe and us well-fed."

Serph's decision to relocate the Guild headquarters to Valak had not come as a surprise to most, but it was not without controversy. Micah had bitterly opposed the move at first, until he grudgingly acceded to the argument that the Andretara Monastery was no longer big enough to sustain the growing Guild - thanks were heaped upon Micah for this, naturally. Ultimately, a resolution supporting the relocation passed - Dekker, Vartek, Kriov, Machida, and Miyamoto tribes supported it, while Novak, Takahara, Kital, and Dova (despite the High Priest's personal intervention) tribes voted against the move. The Telovar, Trekal, and Andros tribes conspicuously dodged the issue. Construction began almost the hour the votes were tallied, and among the older tribal leaders, there was much grumbling about the young upstart who now controlled two tribes and the Guild of Paladins. Serph's allies outnumbered his enemies, but his position was still precarious.

The new Chief Paladin declined to make a dedication speech, to the surprise of the assembled crowd. Instead, Ayumi had spoken, softly yet with strong conviction, about why the transformation was a necessary part of advance.

"Thank you for gathering here today. Serph was kind enough to let me speak to you this afternoon, so I will attempt to do this justice. Behind this stage there are no more buildings; they have been demolished and cleared in preparation for the central structure. If you will look at the provided schematic," Ayumi paused, allowing the audience time to manipulate their holograhic projectors, "you will notice that the central structure is to consist of circular terraces, each covered with native greenery and makeshift waterfalls. From the highest level, a pillar of silvery light will be cast skyward during the evening hours, similar to the golden lights adorning the temples. This structure will be among the tallest in Krioval. Within the central structure will be the administrative headquarters of the Guild, along with residential and recreational facilities for the Chief Paladin, the Directors, and regional managers." She took a deep breath before continuing. "The lower two levels will be open to the public, and will contain recruitment centers as well as restaurants and entertainment.

"Moving outward, where we are assembled today will be excavated in preparation for an artificial lake. Four bridges will link the central structure to the rest of the city, and we anticipate that small boats will also be available for recreational purposes. Do note that the water recirculation system will be powered exclusively by renewable energy sources, mostly from solar energy.

"Continuing yet further outward will be the main research division of the Guild, along with the training centers and the academy. Interspersed within these buildings will be residential and recreational space for Guild members. Circling the Guild will be a short wall, demarcating Guild land from the remainder of Valak. Of course, the Guild is open to the public for visiting, so the wall will be mostly for decorative purposes. If there are any questions, please direct them to our technical director, Kenji Miyamoto. Thank you for your attention."

Amid the applause, Serph and the High Priest met one another's gaze. "They will not abide by this," Andruik said sagely. Serph merely nodded in recognition.

*********************************************************

Citadel of the Gods

"I will let the boy build his little tower," the Dark Queen said sweetly. "It will make my victory all the more delicious." She paused, and her fists involuntarily clenched. "Screw it. I'll just stop him now."

In Valak, dark clouds began to appear from nowhere. Within moments, paladins and guests alike raced for whatever cover they could find as the storm broke over them.

*********************************************************

Tokyo, Japan

Erik Dekker clucked his tongue. "That is not playing fair," he said, mostly to himself. Passers-by ignored him. It was not an uncommon occurrence for an elderly man to mutter incomprehensibly. "Now where did I leave that?" He shuffled through the park slowly. "It's been over fifty years...oh. That's right."

The former tribal leader left the park far quicker than he appeared capable of doing. Down several busy avenues he went, letting his feet remember the path. He stopped before a small but well-maintained Shinto shrine. "Through the gateway I go," he said, crossing under the torii, "and into the place that is no place." He emerged in a room with many flashing buttons and dials. He was also standing near the entryway to the shrine in Tokyo, but Erik had long ago learned to not concern himself with the seeming paradox. It simply *was*.

He purposefully walked toward one console and began inputting commands. "This may take a bit," he said, "but I trust it will be worth it, Serph."

Construction Site
Valak, Krioval
Saturday, 6 March 2004

"Serph, it's been raining for fourteen straight weeks," Hiroshi growled. "Is it ever going to stop?!"

"Eventually, it must," Kenji said. "It cannot possibly rain forever."

"Unless it's not a normal storm," Ayumi said, shivering in the unseasonable cold. "The Gods..."

"The Gods cursed us," Hiroshi continued, his wrath unabated. "And now the tribes are about to pull the plug on this before Valak washes into the sea."

"Have faith," Serph said simply.

"In what?! I've known you for almost eighteen years. You were the first to go to temple, the last to leave, and about the only one there who really believed - and that counts the priests. What good has it done you?"

"If not the Gods," Serph said calmly, "then elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" Kiros asked, puzzled. Serph merely nodded by way of response.

"Tell you what, Serph. You said that the new Guild would be done by the first day of spring. If you manage it, given *this*," Hiroshi scooped up a handful of sodden earth, "I will call you my leader."

"I'd pay good money to see that," Ayumi said.

"Ya. Who wouldn't?" Kiros added.

"Two weeks, Serph. Let's see if your miracle comes through. I'm not expecting too much, though." Hiroshi walked toward one of the temporary structures to get out of the rain. The rest of the group, save Serph, followed.

The Chief Paladin turned his gaze upward, ignoring the deluge. The clouds were lighter than usual, and the sun was almost visible. Serph reached into his pocket and pulled out a small prayer book. He had kept the book with him since he was seven. The paladin leafed through it, noting with irony how many prayers existed to ward off demons. He closed his eyes tightly, and then reached backward with his right arm as far as it would go. Serph smiled, and flung the book with all his strength. It skipped across a deep puddle before landing face down in the mud. Now would be a good time, both he and the Asura thought.

*********************************************************

The Arcane Control Room

"Oh fuck." Erik's patience wore thin. "Not configuration three million, seven hundred fifty-six thousand, nine hundred twelve." He set a device called a randomizer aside for a moment and cursed some more. Time was definitely running out - he could sense that much. He sat in a small chair to think.

An hour passed without the elderly Dekker moving. Suddenly, he sprang out of the chair with energy long dormant. "If the Light One left the bypass intact, I should be able to do a direct interface!" he exclaimed. He entered a series of relatively simple commands, and waited. Several minutes went by, and Erik began to worry that Tara had disabled the back door authorization code. Then came a screen that said, simply: Access Granted.

Erik pushed buttons with frenzied zeal. There was no telling how long his work would go unnoticed. Finally, he sighed with relief, and entered the execution command.

"YOU!" The voice was unmistakeable. Tara had found him.

He sang softly as the commands flew through the ether. If the universe was composed entirely of data, as Serph and other contended, it was a simple matter to move it from one location to another, and from one form to another. The Valak blueprints were not easy to come by, Erik realized, but then, neither was access to a large enough power source - the miracle machine, as he liked to call it.

Blessed Fighter for Light
Solokaro
The battlefield sings
Of pain and of blood

Forward, fighter for Light
From your victory
The Garden will rise
From desolate mud

"I will kill you!" the Goddess screamed. Erik obliged her, and fell over in the control room, and disappeared.

*********************************************************

Tokyo, Japan

"Patient X was admitted to the hospital on 6 December 2003 after collapsing outside a remote shrine. At present, he remains unconscious and totally unresponsive..."

"Doctor, come quickly!"

"What is it?"

"His heart?" The rhythm became irregular, with the blips spiking wildly for several seconds before the line went flat and the machine wailed.

*********************************************************

Valak

Serph returned his gaze to the waterlogged surroundings. Still the rain fell. If anything, he noticed the intensity of the downpour to be increasing. He plodded back toward the makeshift headquarters, as there was still a lot of work to be done. The paladin stopped suddenly when he noticed what appeared to be a silvery flash of light near where his old prayer book had landed. Serph shrugged. No reason *not* to take a look, he decided.

As he approached, the paladin could have sworn that he heard a voice singing. It reminded him of his grandfather's old songs about early Kriovalian mythology - mostly about obscure battles between the Gods and other forces.

Blessed Fighter for Light
Solokaro
The battlefield sings
Of pain and of blood

Forward, fighter for Light
From your victory
The Garden will rise
From desolate mud

Serph sang it softly. The reminiscence lifted his spirits considerably. Then he noticed the book, half submerged in the mud. A reflection?, he wondered. But of what, though?

*********************************************************

Space Station Vartek

"Commander, I'm tracking an energy anomaly from sector two-three-seven."

"Display...what the hell is that?" His words were lost as the impulse roared past the station, threatening to send it out of Earth's orbit. After it passed, he barked a command. "Alert Central Space Command and track that...that!"

"Sir, it appears to be headed toward Valak."

*********************************************************

Valak

It entered the atmosphere, creating a spectacular wake behind it as it ionized the air it encountered. Alerts throughout Valak were sounding as the impulse landed at Serph's feet. He had no time to register any thought other than mild confusion before it exploded upward and outward, engulfing the entire construction site.

The other paladins came running toward their stricken leader only to be surrounded by the energy field themselves. Then the ground began to shake. In some places, the earth actually gave way, creating a network of canals, while other parts rose. More astonishing was that many of the rising portions of muddy ground looked a lot like buildings, trees, and roadways. In the center, though, the most dramatic transformation took place. A finger of mud reached toward the sky, its base broadening as the tendril stretched ever closer to its goal. The mud solidified in places, and the rough outline of a massive terrace took shape.

Serph howled as the Asura shouted its triumph, forcing its way toward the paladin's conscious mind. There, the two regarded one another warily at first, then with resignation, and finally with acceptance. As the rain continued its relentless assault, the headquarters of the Guild of Paladins created itself. They watched with wonder as the silver beacon atop the central structure was lit, flickered, and then stayed on. The Chief Paladin turned his gaze heavenward once again, and said in his usual level voice, "I believe we are done."

The storm ended instantly; one moment torrents of water lashed the ground, and in the next, there was nothing. The clouds broke, and sunlight poured through the openings for the first time in almost three months. A city away, the forecasters of the Kriovalian Weather Service sat in bafflement and prepared for a barrage of calls as to why they messed up their predictions yet again. The group of paladins walked toward Serph, who still stared at the topmost spire of his new headquarters.

"So, Hiroshi, you goin' to call our leadah 'Leadah'?"

"Oh, that's right," Ayumi giggled. "I'd forgotten."

"You did this on purpose, didn't you Serph?" Hiroshi received a shrug in return. "Oh, fine. I suppose I can follow someone who can 'faith' buildings out of the ground and end a whole season of shitty weather." Hiroshi tipped his body ever so slightly forward. "Best of luck with all this, Chief."

Behind him, Ayumi's giggles had become gales of laughter. "That must have been the most painful thing you've ever done, huh?"

"No, dat would be da time when..." Kiros noticed the murderous look on Hiroshi's face. He grinned in return, but kept silent.

Citadel of the Gods

Erik Dekker sauntered to the gates, waved and smirked at the sentinels, and passed through. He too had regained the appearance of youth and strength, and his swagger was testament to his spirit of resilience - yes, the Dark Goddess had called him back, but he remained unbowed by the experience.

"Lord Sylvan."

"Lord Erik."

Dekker raised his voice dramatically. "Lovely weather in Valak this afternoon, isn't it?"

"So that was your doing, then, was it?"

"Not entirely. Serph laid the foundation, so to speak."

"Oh?"

"He may not have realized it, but he cast the Gods from Valak. Without speaking a single word, I might add."

Sylvan's eyes widened considerably. "You mean...?"

"The Asura has risen, incarnated, and integrated. The Gods, through their actions and inactions, have allowed this to come to pass."

"Serph became the Asura?"

"Actually, the Asura became Serph. I have never seen a will so strong before."

"I take it you have had quite the opportunity to seek one, Erik. Or should I call you 'Majesty'?"

"Heh. So you figured it out?"

"I had my inklings."

"I see...in any case, the title has passed from my hands. Of course, it is the greatest joy to see one's successor surpass one's own skills."

"You made my grandson the leader of the demonic hordes, and you stand here and talk to me about the weather?" Sylvan's voice was heavy with resignation.

"Technically, Branok Dova, may his soul remain in eternal torment, triggered the transformation. I merely delivered the crown to its rightful owner."

*********************************************************

"So, we have an agreement?"

"Yes." A deep male voice boomed within the walls of the innermost sanctuary of the Citadel. "In exchange for the dominion of Valak, I will bring you the head of the lord of demons."

Guild of Paladins
Valak, Krioval
Saturday, 20 March 2004

People had flocked to the city within minutes of the rain's ending, seeking to visit the grounds that had been a mud flat just hours before. Many secretly wondered if the structures were ephemeral, and would fade into thin air after a set period of time. Others were convinced that the Guild had used holographics to conceal the progress in construction, to make it seem more miraculous. Still others speculated that someone in the Guild had made a pact with less-than-pure beings to achieve their triumphant display.

The rain was caused by the Gods. It was caused by demons. It was caused by a subduction of the tropical jet stream that got cut off from its primary circulation. Yes, but the Gods did that. No, the demons did. Well, who *ended* it?

The Gods relented. The demons relented. The Gods expelled the demonic forces. The wind patterns simply shifted, carrying the cutoff low pressure system away from Valak. Yes, but the Gods did that. Who gives a damn about the rain, where did an entire Paladins' Guild headquarters come from?!

As was the case with the more unusual conspiracy theories, they managed to get half of the truth, but no more. The Gods had sent the rain. It was unclear why they relented, but it did have something to do with the brewing conflict between the Citadel and the "other forces", not that many managed to guess this much correctly. The Guild headquarters had been the gift of the demon lord (some hazarded to guess this), who was also Erik Dekker (not even *hinted* at, at least on any Kriovalian website), and who was acting to benefit Serph (nearly everybody got this one).

Thus, the theories dovetailed into two general types - Serph was acting with the Gods, or Serph was acting with the demons. If only the two groups were both monolithic and mutually exclusive.

For his part, Serph and company played on the general population's tendency toward panzaism. People didn't want to believe that the Gods made it rain for nearly three months, or that buildings sprang de novo from the ground. And so the Guild invoked the Miyamoto ray as culprit, mentioned something vague about a malfunction, and asked repeatedly whether people knew, for a fact, that construction on the new headquarters hadn't begun. Since most people weren't habitually visiting Valak, it was enough to introduce a bit of uncertainty - and by the way, with all that rain, and those dark, low clouds, would the tower have been visible anyway? The dodge worked for the most part, with news agencies covering the protests of Miyamoto ray technology and Serph's insistence that all future research in that field would be performed safely underground or in space.

And so the Guild was dedicated in its completed form. Valkai Andros had been asked to give the speech, again giving Serph the opportunity to observe the crowd and gauge their reaction.

"Honored guests, I thank you for visiting us today. While there remains a fair bit of controversy over how our site was developed, we are pleased to say that it has been developed nonetheless." He paused for laughter and applause. "In particular, I am happy to announce that the Guild will be home to more than fifty million Guild members, their families, and support staff. Many will note that this figure is approximately ten times the capacity of our Andretara site, which is being renovated to return it to its original function as a monastery and library." Valkai sat amid the applause and motioned to Serph. The Chief Paladin reluctantly stood and walked toward the center of the tower steps.

"Today marks the first day where there is more daylight than darkness, and I find it particularly symbolic. We have lost several noted figures recently, including the Lords Sylvan Kriov and Erik Dekker, both of whom were very close to me. Also, I am sorry to announce the decision of Lord Micah Andros to retire from public service. I hope that he will continue to be active in guiding this Guild.

"We have felt the crushing fear that the dark of winter has gripped us, and is unwilling to release us all from its depths. However, the wheel turns, as it always, and so our mourning ends, and we look forward to the long sunny days of midsummer. Mine has been described as a destiny deflected, and that another, perhaps more suited to leadership, would be preferred to act in my place. And in the darkness and rain, I had wondered if that was true. But now, I see that it is not. We make choices, and those choices create the future - there is no destiny to deflect. That is to be the mission of this Guild, to encourage everybody to realize their potential. I apologize to our honored guests for the length, as I am not used to making speeches of any length." He paused for the chuckling to subside, and smiled. "Thus, without any further delay, I declare the Guild of Paladins to be open. Please enjoy your time with us."

*********************************************************

[OOC: Well, that's it for the first part, anyway. I will probably try to make the follow-up to this be a bit more interactive, as it's been tough to carry a story by myself for over a month. For those out there who have been reading (no, I don't click on my own thread over two hundred times), thank you. Comments and suggestions are welcome.]