I advise you to be wary. Learn from our ancestral mistakes, and do not repeat them. For all the [Loyalty] you can instill while they are impressionable, there are always those who must be culled. There will always be those rare few who see through the facade. Those who slip their own noose of gold, and look back to the one who set it upon their neck. Remember this well: A sword is still a sword, regardless of who is holding it. The arrows which strike down our enemies, can easily fly in a different direction. Our greatest weapons will always be our greatest liabilities. - The Passage of Kings, The Tome of Rule, The Teachings of the Nautalin Empire ....... Floating in the abyss, I wondered if I had become lost once more. If I had been thrown back, into the space between worlds, and torn apart by endless possibilities. Instead, I found nothing. Nothingness. Empty space, all around me, for as far as I wished to travel in any direction. Movement... direction... I found these almost without meaning. Miles and miles of walking, and I was still exactly where I began. Falling, endlessly, and I could set my feet beneath me, to never know the difference. Wandering in the dark, I began to feel a sense of familiarity with the space around me. Reaching out, I could cross this endless distance, I could skip the length of galaxies, to carry through and arrive exactly where I'd once started. In time, if time could truly pass in such a place, I came to think of this vast expanse as my soul. I was everything, here: one mind, settled into an absence of all other things. Just a spirit, waiting in a vacuum... It was fitting, I felt. Although, the thought was enough to make me wonder if this was the same for everyone. If people were all empty, inside; if this was what lay at the heart of mankind... Well, if it was, I supposed it was probably a miracle we weren't any worse off. But, as I traveled, continuing my strange journey, I realized that I wasn't quite correct in my assumption that I was alone. It seemed that even the nothingness had a center, and in that place, was a candle's flame. I could feel the warmth, as I stepped towards it. Weak, lost as I was, drifting along with no where to go. Though it was nothing but a tiny fire, the glow soon reminded me of a star in the night sky. As if I might be blinded, for the contrast which surrounded it. Reaching out, I felt my fingers close around the painful flicker of heat, and I realized my mistake. Oh, how it burned. As the heat soaked into my skin, my bones, my blood: I screamed. Fire was beneath my skin, within my veins, and the knowledge of what it was- what it truly was, was in my mind. Raging and growing, as it swallowed me. Yet, I didn't let the flame go. I held it there, clutched to my chest. For all the pain it brought me, I knew I would rather die, before I let it escape. Before I let the wisp of a fire burn out, and leave this place nothing but darkness, again. No, I knew I would rather use my own self as a kindling. So, I clung to it. I held it close, until the fire burned within my ribs. Until it flared, with every beat of my heart, and I knew that I had claimed it. That this flame would remain a part of me, for as long as I lived. And, I did live, I realized. The sensation of rising, carried me. Up, from that dark and empty space, I lifted with a flickering in my chest. Like smoke, towards the sky.

[Criteria Met]

[Special Skill - Obtained] - [Lesser Flame]

[Lesser Flame] Level 1

They say that the first to wield Magic were people of nature. Without a gift from the Gods, or the guidance of those generations before them: they forged their own path. Though lacking a teacher, you have managed to seize the primal essence of fire.

Do not let it consume you.

My eyes opened, and reality returned. In the form of sight and smell, of taste and sound: no longer lost and forgotten, in that vast and empty place. I was alive. Not breathing my last, spread out on the floor. Not floating over a corpse in an out of body experience, or lost in the confusion of a dying mind's chemical surge. In fact, my head was still in one, functional, piece: skull completely intact. Running my hands through the rough mess on my scalp, proved as much. I wasn't dead, or dying, or anything of that nature. This was unexpected. The bed, too, was unexpected. I couldn't remember how I'd ended up in one, as my last memories were far from such a safe environment. Thoughts of Guards, the Baron, that giant, ungodly, hammer... Could I be back on Earth? The thought rattled me for a moment. Laying in a warm bed, body no longer plagued by the aches and pains of a long march, or thirst, or hunger... Was all of that just a terrible dream? Some byproduct of a fever, tricking my thoughts? The King, the battlefield, the forest-

Name: John

Title: Summoned Hero*

Class: None

General Skills:

Language of men - Lvl 10 - Passive

Identify Lvl 5 - Active

Special Skills:

Lesser Flame Lvl 1 - Active

Hide Presence Lvl 2 - Active

Void Walker Lvl 1 - Passive

Blessing of Forgotten Gods Lvl 5 - Passive

Status:

Vitality: 18

Endurance: 25

Strength: 22

Dexterity: 21

Intelligence: 45

Wisdom: 52

Health: 45/50

Stamina: 17/20

Mana: 16/100

I let that line of thinking go. Far as I remembered, Earth never had floating, magic, screens... Well, actually, I suppose depending on context, it did, but not quite like this. Sitting up and having a look around, the fact I wasn't on Earth was becoming abundantly clear. Stone walls, in combination with the impossibly large animal skulls that seemed to serve as room decor, were a pretty clear indication I hadn't managed to get hammered all the way back home. Although, heading back to Earth with the strange system of Title and Attributes still attached, seemed an interesting line of thought. I pushed it aside, for the time being. Curling up, wheezing as the air groaned from my chest, I managed to prop my body over the crucial point where my abdominals no longer need to do any work. The happy medium, between sitting, and hunching over. I found that breathing was... easier. Though my lungs felt heavy, the pain was mostly gone. Reaching a hand along my ribs, I was surprised to find it didn't hurt much at all. No broken bones... not even fractured bones. All I could find of that injury was a dull aching, and none of the cuts or bruises remained, either. Though, last I checked, I could have sworn I had been wearing clothes... The pieces were fitting together, by the time I heard voices. "-Healer is finished with him. Get the lad his fuckin' gear... No, get him something from the armory, instead. Make sure my seal is on it. Brand it, if you have to." The gruff tone sunk through the wood, reaching past the beams that made up the ceiling. "Understood." Heavy steps tossed dust down, as the planks shifted. "And give him back the piece. I see that on your belt." "Yes, Baron." "Don't give me that look. Spit it out." "You should have locked him in a cell, Sir. He could still be dangerous-" "For fuck's sake, of course he's dangerous. When was the last time you heard of a Hero pissing on the Empire's name and then setting someone's beard on fire?" "I still think that giving a weapon, any weapon, is a mistake. It's a risk." "You think I'm scared of a dagger, lass? Sharpen that for three days, and I'd bet good coin the damn thing would still bend before it cut me." "Not everyone has that blessing, Baron." "The lip on you. Swear to the old Gods..." The voice muttered. "If your father hadn't taking a full quiver of arrows for me, I'd have already thrown you off the bloody cliffs. You go find the equivalent of a bloody unicorn out in the sticks, and you almost kill him before he even gets to me. Do you even understand what that lad is worth?" "Sir, Roggar may have been a bit too aggressive, but-" "Don't bring that fool into it. I paired the both of you in the hope that you'd keep him in line." "... I'm sorry, Sir." "Fuck apologizing! For Gods mercy: your father's probably rolling in his fucking grave! He'll come back to haunt me, and piss in my fucking wine." There was a loud huff. "Just know: if I want someone dead, I'll do it myself. Now go... and give me the bloody thing. Give it here." A floor board bowed dangerously, above my head, before rightening itself with a sorrowful groan. There was about three seconds of calm, then. Just enough to give me a false sense of security, before stairs began to creak. Then, another full second of peace, before the door slammed open with such force, one of those bizarre skulls tumbled off the wall and shattered. A fitting reminder, I decided, as the Baron stepped in.

Baron

Lord

?????

The [Lord] Class, the Baron Title... I felt somewhat surprised by that, but it was my fault for not having used [Identify] when it mattered. Perhaps, being mostly dead at the time, I had a decent-enough excuse. Still, it hardly felt like one. Hunching over, shifting sideways just to fit through the doorway, the mountain of a man somehow made it inside. Eyes of gray steel seeking me out, the Baron looked me over. [Lord] he might have been, but I stood by my suspicion that the man didn't spent much time drinking tea, or wearing frilly shirts. He did, though, seem to be sporting a much smaller beard than I remembered. And for some reason, I noticed that the room suddenly smelled a bit like campfire. "Been a long while since someone managed to surprise me." The Baron said. "Fuck the Empire and fuck me... eh? I suppose I needed a trim, anyways." I stared, blankly. The obvious question crossed my mind, met with an almost immediate answer as I reached back for the memory. Had I... ? Mana: 16/100 The burning in my chest resonated, at the possibility. Feeding me the knowledge, that all I'd need to do was reach for the pattern, breathe in deep and- Mana: 15/100 I stopped short, as his eyes narrowed. Those thoughts had come about with disturbing quickness. I felt the pattern humming in my skull, a rising sense of heat flickering in my chest. It was an odd realization. As easily as breathing, as easily as recalling my own name: the pattern in my mind, the flaring in my chest... all the encouragement in the world was right there, demanding that I bring it into the world around me. That I reach out and let it free. [Lesser Flame] Rationally, I could look at that, and I could acknowledge the possibility. That I had finally obtained some form of Magic, and that I could very likely put it to use. Of course, I could. Just as I could also, logically, recognize how this might be interpreted as a threat. There's a fine balance between l'appel du vide and downright insanity. While I wasn't sure which I was experiencing, I elected to squash whatever mana-related danger might have been trying to form, before things ended badly. The Baron nodded his approval at that. It seemed to do the trick. "You want to live." The living tower of human flesh, muscle, and violence, made that surprisingly insightful statement of fact, as he leaned down to avoid the glowstone that was lighting the room. "That's a good thing, Hero." With a massive hand, The Baron pulled a seat from beside the door. Sitting down, I could practically see the wood screaming in pain, splinters forming, as he hunched forward: still looking down from great height, at the base of the bed. "I've decided, I'm going to let you live." He continued. The scar on his face catching the dim light, in a perfectly ominous way. "This is a decision I can take back, at any time. This is a decision I will periodically reassess." I opened my mouth, then shut it, immediately. Mostly naked, completely unarmed, and rather startled by a good number of things: I didn't have a response prepared. Which was just as well, because it seemed that the Baron hadn't wanted one. "Just a start." With a loud thump, my dagger landed on the sheets, cased in a new leather sheath. It was joined by a small bag that clinked with the distinct sound of coins. Then, as if an afterthought, a second pouch landed. The one I'd been storing the Singing Fern in, although it was now empty. "For your troubles." I didn't move to take them. Was this a trap? Handing me a weapon, to see what I'd do with it? Looking back up, the Baron's stern expression, I wasn't entirely sure. Instead of focusing on my reaction, I noticed that he seemed to be staring above my head, the slightest hint of a frown forming. Then, the door swung open a second time. As it slammed against the stone, I watched the Guard I'd named Karen, enter the room carrying a large bundle. She took three steps, then, face impassive, dropped the bundle on the floor with a loud "thump." Lightly, she pushed her boot to roll the bundle on its side, spilling the contents onto the floor. Clothing, and armor, flopped out, haphazardly. Looking back up, I caught her expression as she looked me over. Her lip curled. As she stepped out. Hand falling to the pommel of her sword, she pulled the door to slam shut a second time. No words were spoken, but I was certain the Baron's eye- the scarred one, twitched violently. Those following several seconds of silence, were breathtakingly terrifying. He stared at the door, with an expression of rage, letting out a long growl. The back of the chair, still in his grip, popped into shards of wood: disintegrating beneath the pressure. Muscles that I hadn't even known existed, creaked like steel cables, under his skin. Gritting his teeth, the Baron turned back to me, muscles running up his jaw and to his temples, bulging from the effort of... well, I imagine "not committing murder" to be as close a guess as any. "You, Hero..." He said, growl somehow settled into his speech, like some horrible undercurrent. "You, are going to accept the conditions which come from this generosity." It wasn't a question, but I guess it really didn't need to be.