I woke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. The dreams started off pleasant enough, but devolved into nightmares at some point. Faceless gods were chasing me through endless darkness, their presence never far behind. Strings were attached to me. I was forced to run, like a marionette. Against my will I danced and entertained the ethereal beings until I would begin running again.

The haunting ordeal had not awoken me. The fall off the seat, or sudden stop on the floor, did. My carriage had come to a stop, sending me tumbling. I groaned and sat up. It was already dark outside. Calls could be heard in the distance in all directions.

Initially I worried we were being ambushed, but that thought quickly faded. Who would have the balls to attack an army on the march? The orders being shouted were mostly related to setting up camp.

I wiped my brow and scratched my head, still not enjoying the short fuzz of hair. It beat being bald without eyebrows at all and I didn’t miss the sweat rolling directly into my eyes. I stepped out of the cab, into shin high grass.

We were parked off the road in a clearing about fifty meters wide, ending at a treeline. The other side of the road was similarly open up to the wall of trees. The area on either side was deforested to make for safer roads and to allow large caravans to set up camp. Equally as impressive was the paved road stretching into the distance. I couldn’t help but think about the work that went into such a large project.

The Oryan castle was another such impressive feat of labor, as was the tunnel. One thing I had not studied was architecture, construction, and civic works. That could be easily remedied once we get to Videm.

Large tents were erected nearby and cookfires already burned nearby. There were no guards or mentors immediately around me and, for the first time since arriving, I felt alone… even among this caravan of countless people.

There was no one watching over me. No one was tethered to me. It was an odd sensation. Being naked didn’t bother me overly much, but this felt close to that. Like I was stripped bare in the middle of a city. Exposed.

Despite the army around which would keep everyone safe, there was no one in my immediate vicinity to keep me personally safe. What if a thief wanted to steal my grimoire? Everything I brought with me from home, and some of what I have obtained since, was with me right now. That included the chest of gold tucked under a bench in the carriage.

Where was everything else? My other trunks of belongings? I fretted about and looked for the wagon with everything else I owned, though never straying far from my carriage. Even with just our cluster of wagons there were dozens of them.

I kicked myself for not hiring a personal guard. It would have cost me what, a single gold for the entire trip back? A few gold with personal servants? I’m sure that I could have bought them all gear, rations, and horses without really noticing the expense.

The whole time at the castle I had felt secure, but there had not been this many people around my stuff at any point. When I left my room it remained guarded. Everyone around me was extremely considerate as well; never touching anything that was mine without express permission. It had seemed odd and noteworthy whenever it occurred, but now it stuck out more in my mind.

Going into the city itself I hadn’t seen pickpockets, but I couldn’t believe that there was no crime. That seemed entirely unrealistic, even in a world where my grasp of ‘what is real here’ was put in question periodically.

“Sir Sully, you look positively stricken.”

I jumped and a small squeak may have escaped my dried vocal cage. Not at all like a delicate princess or squeezed songbird.

Bemused, Morslon stifled a laugh. “I took the liberty of selecting a spot and having a team begin to set up our tent. Figured it would be good to show you where it was, so I came to find you.”

“Oh.” I sipped from a canteen to wet my throat. “I see. Wait, our tent?”

“Nespolan provided a tent for you, though I do have my own if you’d prefer privacy.”

It had been my plan to use my camping tent from home originally, but this was already being set up. I decided to check it out before deciding one way or another. “What about all my stuff?” I asked, gesturing to the stack of trunks and bags strapped to the back of the carriage. “Or the rest of my stuff on a wagon somewhere?”

“If you would like we can have it all moved into the tent as well. Most storage wagons do not get unloaded every time we stop, though it is your decision to make.”

Still uneasy about it all, I looked between all my things and Morslon. “Will it all be safe though?”

“As safe as it can be, especially in this section of the march.”

“Why is that?”

He shrugged, “It is the most heavily guarded. The commander, officers, nobles, and others of high station mostly travel in the middle of the entire caravan.”

That made sense. I grabbed my bags and grimoire before stopping myself. It was all incredibly heavy and we had servants to help out, right? “Would you mind carrying one of my bags?”

“Of course not,” he said as he picked up the duffel bag. Morslon led me to a spot only about twenty meters away to a large tent being set up. “Here we are.”

The tent I brought from my old world was a small one person tent meant to be light and portable. This behemoth had to be twenty-five square meters and would be tall enough to walk in at every wall, even for me. Why on… whatever the name of this planet was… is it so big?

“Why is the tent so large?

He looked around the area at other tents, which were all similarly sized or larger. “It is fairly standard for those above the rank and file actually. They will move in the beds, desk, table and chairs after it has been set up.”

A fully furnished tent? That seemed incredibly wasteful and frivolous. However, I was not going to complain or choose to stay in a tiny tent if this was mine. That made me wonder why Morslon wanted to share a tent though. “I am not saying you need to have your own tent set up, but why share one if you have your own?”

“Well, argenti typically share their patron’s tent or are pooled into group tents. You did mention that you wanted to sort through the pictures though. I figured we would be up for a while tonight doing that, assuming you slept for a bit.”

He was right, which I told him. I had not considered including him with all the remaining work to be done. Just thinking about the volume of images made me dread the work somewhat, but I wanted to do it so they would be more useful later. It also meant I had to teach him how to do a few things, like how to drag and drop files.

The tent was set up in short order, then furniture was moved in. I had only glamped, or glamorous camped, like this a few times before while out on digs. Well, there were a few music festivals too, but those were very different experiences by comparison. Like the carriage, I would take the improved level of comfort afforded from my proximity to Nespolan.

That isn’t the right way to think of it either, not really. I am a wealthy man right now and even had a means to gain recurring income once my ship set sail next spring. It would take some getting used to the idea of being independently wealthy, even as someone who grew up with a trust fund. This was my own wealth now.

Morslon sent a servant to fetch food for us as I showed him what to do on the tablet. My anal retentive data hording demanded that everything be backed up on a second drive as we worked, so I set that up on the laptop so it would stay updated automatically. Without cloud storage I was anxious about losing data in a world where none of these devices could be replaced.

The hardest part was actually showing him how to make a folder. It was all the more difficult because he obviously couldn’t read any of it. I also had to help him anytime he touched the wrong button or literally any other issue popped up, which happened quite a bit somehow.

Fortunately for both of us, I have an abundance of patience most of the time. Compared to taking the pictures, this was going to be a slog that would take us days - which we had more than enough of to look forward to during the trip.

Dorstark announced himself before asking, “Hungry?”

“Ravenous,” I called out to him. “Skipped lunch and slept the entire way here.”

“May I enter? I come bearing food.”

I laughed, “Of course, please do.”

He walked in, looked around, and placed the platters of food on the table in the middle of the tent. “What are you working on?”

“Organizing pictures,” I said, even though the Norvosian word I used for ‘pictures’ was more aptly translated to ‘paintings’ or ‘illustrations’.

“How would you be able to read such tiny manuscripts?”

“I was curious about that myself,” Morslon chimed in.

They didn’t realize I could zoom in… That actually hadn’t occurred to me until now, so I did just that. Two pairs of eyes widened in astonishment.

“My apologies for not showing you this sooner. I take a lot of the specifics for granted.” I paused for a moment, thinking about it. “Wait, you helped me that whole time without knowing I could actually read any of it?” I asked Morslon.

“I have placed my life in your hands, but trusting you in this way comes as a surprise?”

Well, that was a great point. “Touche,” I said… not knowing the Norvosian word. “I mean, fair point.”

“So you were able to acquire these ‘digital’ copies from the libraries of the Mors?” It took me a moment to realize he used that word, which made sense I suppose. I had explained to him the difference between analog and digital but couldn’t translate them.

I nodded, “This way I will have access to them wherever we go.”

“Incredible. How many did you obtain in this manner?”

Morslon answered before I had the chance. “Hundreds,” he said with pride, “including maps and arcane tomes.”

That revelation made Dorstark go completely bug eyed. “I hadn’t thought of those,” he mumbled.

“We will be organizing them into ‘digital’ folios, then I will make a single document for each book. There will be a reserve copy as well, just in case something happens.”

He flopped into a chair at the table, speechless. Morslon sat next to him with a distinct look of satisfaction at being a part of such a momentous task. I admitted to myself that it was pretty great, but hadn’t really thought of it from their perspective.

Perhaps Morslon had an excellent poker face too, because he had not seemed so shocked when he saw what I was doing in the library. There had been a flood of questions and some excitement, but he wasn’t floored.

“Morslon, is this why you asked to join my argenti?”

My lone argenti member finished chewing, swallowed, and replied, “In part. After hearing of the stories, I wanted to meet you anyway. Once I met you, it was clear that you would do great things. Then I saw your ‘phone’ and made up my mind after you explained what you had been doing.” He finished with a bit of a shrug, shoveling more food into his mouth.

“How long did it take you to copy an entire book?”

“Usually a quarter of an hour’s candle or less,” Morslon said with a smirk.

“It takes days, sometimes more than a week, to copy a text. That may not include binding, rubrication, or illumination. I know these pictures of yours take mere instants.”

I asked what the two words he said in Norvosian were that I didn’t recognize, which he explained. I translated them to mean rubrication and illumination - tasks to dress up manuscripts with unique lettering and pretty pictures.

I knew calligraphy, multiple hands, and various writing styles. I had no real experience writing an entire book by hand, which included these aspects of a scribe’s skills and art.

“I suppose I knew that, but had not really considered how much time we were saving. I was only thinking about having access to them after leaving Orya.”

Dorstark shook his head in disbelief, “It is bewildering that the Duke would allow you to do this at all… But their maps and magics? I have never been afforded to the privilege of seeing them in any of my many trips there.”

“We struck a deal,” I said, sitting across from them at the table. “A sort of information exchange where the Mors would have access to my future libraries.”

Morslon and I ate quickly, but Dorstark seemed lost in thought. After I had finished and started to move back to the laptop, he cleared his throat and sat up. “May I assist you in any way in this endeavor Sir Sully?”

I was about to say yes but saw Morslon’s eyes boring into me before shaking his head. “Morslon? Why would you object on this? If we had one more person it would speed up the process.”

He kept shaking his head, “The agreement restricts you from sharing the information.”

“Oh… well, shit.”

Dorstark frowned slightly but fought against diminishing his refined demeanor.

“Is there any way around it though? Will I have to keep these copies only between the two of us forever? What if it is copied to a new manuscript?” I asked, rapidly firing off questions. Of course I remembered the deal we made, but there had to be something. “What if I had a library and it needed to be maintained? The keeper of that library could never look in the books?”

Morslon had opened and closed his mouth more than once before finally stopping my barrage. “There are a couple ways, actually.” Dorstark and I both perked up, but said nothing. “The Mors rarely approve outside access to their libraries, especially those of the magics and the maps.”

He paused as if thinking about it more, probably just for effect. “So, if you had been personally allowed to copy a manuscript it would share the same pact. Nor is anyone allowed to extend their invitation to others.” Again he paused, this time stroking his air beard and looking upward. “However, argenti are generally granted access to the libraries under the same agreement.”

“Well, that does not help us at all.” I turned to Dorstark, who was already standing, “I am sorry. But I can not risk breaking our arrangement. It seems rather serious and I would not want to anger the Mors.”

“Of course not. It would indeed be a grievous offense. And I should think no one in all of Norvos, and beyond, would like to find themselves enemies of the Mors.”

“Wait, that means you have been able to have access already though. Right?”

“It does,” Morslon contributed… perhaps too smugly.

“Had I known, I would have taken advantage of the opportunity. I will leave you to your tasks.” Dorstark walked out without another word.

It made sense in a way that he would not have pressed his privilege or even asked after his own desires if he viewed it as even slightly uncouth. Not knowing the specifics of how the Mors granted access was the largest obstacle however.

I chastised Morslon slightly and warned him that his behavior was unbecoming from a member of my argenti. It was best to nip that right in the butt early on if I were going to be playing any sort of meaningful role in the upper crust of Norvos.

He was young, full of piss and vinegar. Not unlike myself really. I knew all too well the feeling of getting an upper hand over someone, especially Dorstark.

I felt bad as we went back to work. If he wanted to be part of this, I wanted to grant him that. It wasn’t possible. With that in mind, I decided to start setting aside time for the two of us to work on my other big project during our journey - the runes quest. We could also work on magic, though that benefited me more than him.

Everything I was doing right now benefitted me in some way. That thought bothered the hell out of me and stuck in my brain like gum in the hair I didn’t have right now. I’ve always been somewhat selfish. Never maliciously selfish, just focused on my own interests before those of others. Alright, that sounded exactly like what being selfish was.

Not having received a series of windfalls before, I didn’t know how to feel about the elevated status above others. Landing here I immediately gained some semblance of authority by proxy. Then I received gifts which set me further apart from the average person.

“I am done for the night,” I announced. I turned off the computer, which disconnected it from the tablet Morslon had been using.

He “harrumph’ed” as I packed it all away. I was just frustrated, which wasn’t fair to him.

“Apologies Morslon. I promise that I will show you something really great tomorrow night though,” I said, which seemed to cheer him up a bit.

We crawled into our individual beds and let the darkness guide us toward unconsciousness. I slept fitfully. My dreams, or nightmares, actually grew worse over the course of the week as we travelled.

During the waking hours I worked on runes with Dorstark on the road, then Morslon with the scriptorium quest in my tent before going to sleep. I dreaded going to sleep more each passing day, staying up longer each night. This day though we had both grown aggravated trying to work as we jostled and bumped along, riding much of the day in silence together.

Tonight’s imaginary horror show started no different than the others had. It began again with more of the marionette shenanigans. Empty visages cruelly controlling my every move.

Then things slowly began to change. I became a puppet master lording over others. I toyed with them in the same manner, forcing them to flail about for a time for my amusement.

Hanging off one crossbar, Morslon sat hunched at a desk. He toiled away, moving a single white pixel block at a time from one side of the desk to the other before moving them back.

Dorstark stood in front of a black board, taut strings reaching from my hands toward him. His jaw flapped open and closed, out of time with his voice. My mentor shared knowledge with alacrity, as if it were his life’s purpose. There was pleasure in his tone and posture.

Slowly, eerily, his wooden head turned fully around. The new face was angry and full of resentment. Puppet Dorstark flipped the board to its other side with malice. His voice grew coarse, full of heat and sorrow.

The stories he told were of petty tyrants and gods. Hateful creatures who controlled others to disgusting ends.

Words came faster, to the point where I couldn’t understand them. Strings grew tighter and twisted, fraying under the strained flurry of motions as the puppet gesticulated wildly. It had become a spiteful creature wearing a darkened mask of Dorstark’s likeness, spitting sounds from different tongues.

“Sully!”

I sat bolt upright and screamed, accidentally headbutting Morslon.

“Yeowch!” He howled as he held his forehead. “You were tossing and turning in your sleep. Even yelled a couple times.”

I groaned, holding my face. It felt like I had run face first into a tree. My eyes watered. So much pain.

“Gods,” he exclaimed.

Pulling a hand away from my face, I looked at it through tear filled, blurry eyes. Sticky red goop covered my hand. It was a curious moment over a couple heartbeats as I tried to figure out why I was sweating blood from my face.

People-shaped-blurs burst into the tent, pointy blurs pointed away from them. “Lords, what is the trouble here?”

“Fetch a healer!” Morslon ordered.

One blob bolted out of the tent as the other blob approached me while looking around for trouble. “Where is the attacker?”

“No attacker, just an accident.”

Though I couldn’t see it, I could feel it in my soul that the guard was squinting at Morslon, considering his words.

“Lord Sully, is that true?”

I nodded with both hands back on my face, holding it all together like a broken vase that got knocked over during a house party I shouldn’t have been having while my parents were away in an effort to hang out with the cool kids and that one girl. What was her name?

“Ye,” I sort of gurgled weakly. “Nop lorm,” I tried to inform him.

“What?”

“I believe he means that he is not a lord,” Morslon provided.

A few minutes later more multi-colored rorschach ink blots clamored into the large tent. I noted that it still wasn’t close to being crowded with all our new jellyfish guests.

Nespolan was the first to speak, “Sully, what happened?”

“Ak-a-den,” I tried to enunciate. It sounded pretty good too, all things considered.

“What?”

“Ak-a-den,” I reiterated, somewhat frustrated.

“He is not speaking Norvosian, but I believe he is trying to say accident in his native tongue.” Dorstark contributed.

My heart immediately sank when I heard his voice, feeling guilty for the whole puppet thing. I wanted to apologize.

“Out of the way. Back up. Lay back,” I heard as a soft hand pushed me backward onto my bed.

The new voice muttered a bit as I drifted off to a blissfully painless and dreamless sleep.

*****

I awoke some time later in a larger carriage than my own. It was big enough that most people living in small inner city studio apartments might get jealous.

“What the fuck?” I inquired… again, not in Norvosian. “Errrrr… What the forsaken?”

“You are awake. And you are speaking properly,” Dorstark said. “That is good,”

“Please, do not use that term Sully,” Nespolan said before mouthing ‘forsaken’. “Morslon told us what happened, short of a story as it was. You were made to sleep and healed.”

“But… What? Ughh…” I slowly sat up, thanking the damnable gods that I could make it to an upright position without being smacked in the face with a shovel… or throwing up. Though, the world was still a bit swimy. “My stuff?”

They explained that I had broken my nose when Morslon startled me awake. Everyone else had eaten breakfast while the group broke camp, as usual, and I was moved to the commander’s carriage that he rarely ever used. He went so far as to apologize for its lavishness. They also assured me that all my belongings had been secured as well.

My head cleared quite a bit as they brought me up to speed. “I have not been sleeping well lately.”

Nespolan nodded, “Morslon told us of that also.”

I explained the dreams and prophecies to them all, earnestly. It was more than a bit uncomfortable retelling my latest dream. I wasn’t sure how Morslon felt, but I knew that Nespolan and Dorstark were at opposite ends of the spectrum in their views on the faiths - which I definitely did not bring up.

The commander conveyed his belief that they were prophecies which I had given to the priests, and my gifts were likely to be viewed as holy relics or powerful artifacts. I couldn’t help but internally bemoan the notion. He also attempted to console me that while he thought those to be real, he believed the nightmares to be of no consequence.

“They are just horrible dreams Sully,” Dorstark agreed.

“I know that, I think, but it does not change anything for my dreaming mind.”

“Where I am concerned, you should not feel as if you are taking advantage of or using me,” my mentor consented in a rather weirdly worded way, from my perspective.

Again, most of me knew that too I think. That he consented, platonically. “I would not be where I am in this world so far without your help,” I said with a heavy sigh. “If I could repay you, I would… and I am trying to do just that in a way.”

“I know this as well. It is part of why I was frustrated yesterday if I am being honest with myself, and you, about it,” my mentor intoned. He looked to Nespolan, who nodded, then to me again. “I have conferred with High Commander Nespolan and have requested to be freed from my bonds, thus I am no longer a member of an argenti.”

“What? Why?” I blurted. “Why would you do that?” It just made no sense. Leave the argenti of one of the greatest men in all of Norvos. Who would choose to make such a foolish move? “Are you leaving the caravan too or something?” I looked at everyone incredulously. Why would Nespolan even grant such a request?

Morslon sat still and said nothing. Nespolan’s smile conveyed warmth and sadness - none of which I understood. Dorstark just stared into my eyes for a time, platonically.

“I wish to pledge myself to you. If you would have me, I promise to serve you to the best of my abilities.”

“‘Fucking, what’?...” I blinked a few times, “You want to join my argenti? Hold on… You want to leave Nespolan’s argenti to join mine? Is that even allowed?”

Nespolan nodded, “It is allowed, and he has my gracious blessing to do so. He has served me loyally for a long time, though I am certain he will be of greater service to you.” He thought for a moment more before adding, “You will need him.”

I was so dazed and confused. There were so many eye blinks happening that I probably looked like a flirting princess, batting her eyes at a gallant knight. … If that knight were both Nespolan and Dorstark. So, you know, wholly perplexed and platonically batting my eyes.

Eventually the commander cleared his throat. “You would be most unwise to decline this offer, Lord Sully.”

He was right. I couldn’t refuse Dorstark. If my subconscious mind had thought me a monster who had been using him, which he assured me I wasn’t, and then I turned him away… what sort of person would I be?

Hesitating was only going to send all the wrong messages. I just went with it, “I accept your pledge, High Magister Dorstark, and shall honor your service in my endeavors.”

My mentor, and newest argenti member, exhaled a breath he had been holding. Smiling broadly he reached out and we clasped wrists, “Thank you, Lord Sully.”

Morslon produced an almost obnoxious ‘ahem’ and sat forward, “Not to be obtuse High Commander and High Magister, but Sully is no Lord.” Realizing his statement was also a slight toward me he stammered, “No… no offense intended Sir Sully.”

Nespolan and Dorstark looked at the young scholar, then at one another, then at me.

“I do not make such mistakes Morslon,” Dorstark sniffed.

The commander shook his head, agreeing with him. “No, he does not… Not often anyway.” He snickered a bit and calmed himself. “We have been talking for some time about it. That is, he has been advising me, as had Morstaal and many others. The remaining boon I shall grant will be titles and lands to accompany them.”

Morslon chimed in with an, ‘oooohhhhhh’ sound, but that’s it.

Derrrrr… “Huh?” I swear it that my mind was forcing me to look around for cameras as if I were on a prank show. “Lands and titles? For what?”

“Saving my life, of course.”

“But why that boon? You have already given me quite a lot.”

“Lord Sully, I must confess that my life is worth significantly more than anything I can bestow upon you.”

“Do not think me ungrateful, but why a lordship?” My brain’s lightbulb flickered a bit as I processed this. “And what title? Which lands? Hold on...” Too far forward, I needed to back it up and grasp the foundation of this before getting to that part. “Why?”

“We settled on two boons that seemed fitting and this is the only one I would actually give.”

“Two? What was the other?”

Nespolan hesitated. “Marriage.”

“To whom?”

“To me, of course. A life shared for a life saved.”

“Marriage? To you…” I mean, I was thoroughly confused and taken about twenty kilometers aback. “But, you are...”

Nespolan interrupted, “Yes, I am the first sister to King Neskorin of Norvos, heiress of the Royal Nes family, and High Commander of Norvos,” she paused to sip her lale, “So, you see the complications. Certainly you understand my predicament. I assure you it has nothing to do with you, Lord Sully. I simply have no intentions of ever marrying… or mothering if I can help it.”

Just… wait… fucking... what? My mouth opened and closed, but no words made it beyond the trainwreck upstairs.

I sat there, dumbfounded. I went beyond clammed up princess and straight to a carbon copied caucasian woman… I was stuck at the ‘odd’ setting... and could not ‘even’.

Succinctly, my greymatter shattered.