˙dn ǝʞɐM

Elin opened her eyes.

The lucid dream still clouded Elin's thoughts, and the sensation of the ankle-deep lake of blood sloshing over her feet persisted. She recoiled. The blood felt unnaturally silky, and cringing goosebumps climbed up her calves and thighs. The giant's eyes, like a pair of tiny red suns on a towering vantablack silhouette, gazed at her, transfixed her in place, and forced her to stare back up at it. The light, its sight, trapped her. When she blinked, Elin realized the light of the shadowy carriage originated from the orange morning sun.

The same dream again.

Elin hated sleeping in her clothes, but circumstances demanded it. Who knows if a guard, because of stupidity or ulterior motives, would walk in and see her nude? She felt sticky. What she wanted was to feel Walter's warmth and to forget the rigid embrace of cold armor, from her days at Camp Wolf, crushing her chest. Better his hands than that metal, much better.

When she reached over, Elin felt emptiness, and she lifted her head. His side of the blanket was empty; in his place was his pointed hat. Walter had a habit of hanging his hat on nails or hooks, and if it laid next to her, then he put it there on purpose. A lazy smile skewed her face. It represented a hint he didn't want to leave her, but something called him forth. After she brushed her hair and tied a ponytail, she put the pointed hat on her head.

As expected, the night passed without incident, though she volunteered for the first watch. Walter's and Elin's combined presence overloaded the instincts of the lesser monsters, so they avoided the area. The convoy, and the nearby pilgrims, slept soundly in the open, perhaps for the first time.

Walter sat on top of the carriage. For a moment, he looked like the vantablack giant in her dream.

"Walter?"

He turned. Elin caught an instant of his brooding expression before he covered it with a smile.

"Hey, you. Sleep well?"

Elin avoided answering, and she narrowed her eyes at him, "Did you?" The dreams couldn't be stopped, and Elin could see no benefit making him worry.

He turned back to the sight of struggling crops and refused to respond.

Elin said, "There is nothing we can do."

"What good is all this magic, then?"

"It saved me."

Walter held out his hand, and Elin grasped it.

"Listen, Walter. Don't sacrifice too much trying to help. Please."

The pilgrim village, and the muddy little girl, shrunk in the distance. Walter didn't look behind or say anything. The questions stopped.

The road stretched before them.

"I'll sit on the roof," Walter said, "Elin, would you borrow Jupiter again?"

Playtime ended. If Walter noticed a monster, then he killed it. His sphere of influence increased beyond their immediate safety and expanded to the limit of his vision.

A cavalryman rode up to and knocked on Prince Peterby's carriage window, "Sir, should we send scouts to collect any of the monstraculture? There's quite a lot we're leaving behind."

"No. We'll be overloaded if we do, and we have pressing business. The locals can enjoy this gift."

Elin directed Jupiter closer, "Do not overtax yourself."

Walter paused before he said, "I won't."

"Reserve two-thirds of your mana." She didn't ask.

Walter paused again, "Alright."

Like the Wilmand Kingdom, the Rangville Empire did not enforce an official border. Also, like the kingdom, the empire claimed defensible landmarks and influenced its citizens through them. Natural geography performed what little function of "territory" that remained.

A mountain chain divided the area between Wilmand and Rangville, and a single pass provided a path linking the two nations. A keep named Dragon's Skull served as a midway checkpoint.

The keep itself was historical, left behind by a hero, and built upon the skull of a decapitated dragon. Massive twin horns speared into the sky. A wall stretched the narrow path from both sides of the keep, and it merged into the steep sides of the rocks. Elin could see no tactical benefit to a wall built next to higher ground.

She asked Walter his opinion, and he said, "They were probably more interested in the aesthetic."

"Our soldiers control this half of the checkpoint, Rangville the other," Prince Peterby said, "For diplomatic reasons, please be on your best behavior when we cross over."

Blue banners gave way to red, and individualized armor changed out for uniformity. Prince Peterby's convoy passed underneath the mandibles of the skull. A multitude of teeth dangled above them like stalactites.

Wilmand's forces reported from various noblemen, which armed their men differently, or different temples, like Gaiatic Paladins or Odinic Templars. Mages, wearing personalized clothing, milled about. The military force relied upon heroic individuals, and people were inspired to follow them.

Rangville controlled the military directly and treated them as one unit, and soldiers marched in disciplined formations. Officers were determined by insignia and not by the expensiveness of their clothing. The military force needed the entire army to fight as one unit, and they did so.

When the convoy exited the mouth of the dragon, General Tybalt awaited them on the other side. "Prince Peterby, welcome to the Rangville Empire and thank you for meeting my daughter. I will be your escort from here on in."

General Tybalt struck Elin as a dour man, by practice, because unruliness might weaken order. However, despite his harshness, an underlying cheerfulness colored his actions. The hairs of his beard and mustache all moved in precisely the same direction. When he spoke, which he limited to orders, men stiffened and listened and then obeyed. If someone looked confused after being commanded, then another officer stepped in to remove the ignorant and instruct them. Chit chat remained off the table. Even Prince Peterby, a potential future son-in-law, could pull only a few words from him.

"It was my understanding you stood trial?" Prince Peterby asked from his carriage window.

"A farce," General Tybalt said, "It is expected that the leadership takes responsibility. The Senate ruled that, given the limited information and the conditions of the long-standing treaties, my actions were hasty but not unfounded. Had I known Lord Walter's demeanor, then I might have acted differently, but risks like these are not to be taken lightly."

"The sentiment is agreeable enough."

"Walter isn't a risk," Elin said.

"Not that we've seen yet, no," General Tybalt said.

Elin grit her teeth.

How often must he explain he wishes not to interfere with your treaties, and governments, and little power struggles? He turned away from the suffering of others to abate your fears. Perhaps it would be better if he simply ignored your wishes and forced his opinion. After all, when will you be able to truly take the responsibility you tout?

Walter whistled, "This is way different from the kingdom."

General Tybalt explained he would escort them to the first town but not the capital because Walter served as the prince's escort. "There are military concerns. Please don't take it personally."

The town itself enjoyed well-maintained buildings, each one organized by law. Straight roads, with tightly-knitted cobblestone, dominated the traffic lanes. Women dressed according to simple styles, and the men wore uniform suits if they didn't wear a soldier's armor.

"Where are the walls?"

General Tybalt smiled. "We wage war on the monsters, Lord Walter. Endlessly. If we find a dungeon, then we, the army, eliminate it. Our rangers are very efficient. We do not tolerate threats on our land, despite the advantages the monstraculture might offer. My statement isn't to disparage the kingdom. We understand you have different circumstances, but we do enjoy easier farming and safer lives because of their systematic removal. For now, you will stay here and await the arrival of my daughter."

General Tybalt rode away to order his soldiers to and fro.

Walter cursed under his breath. "I thought it was weird."

"What is it, beloved?"

"Dungeons can't be destroyed yet," Walter hissed, "All they're doing is forcing them to respawn in newer locations. Didn't you find it odd how dense the roaming monsters seemed to be in the northern peninsula, how the elves couldn't even walk on the ground? The empire is why. They simply forced their problems on them."

"What can we do?"

"Can we do anything about it?" Walter looked at Prince Peterby. "Surely, you already knew?"

Prince Peterby met his eyes a moment. "Yes, we knew. They're a nation unto themselves, Lord Walter, and there is no possible enforcement to make them keep monsters on their lands. I ask you not to make a political crisis out of the fact."