The first chapter is out. Any more will have to take time. I would like to apologize beforehand because the story may have a slow progress initially. I repeat, the story is slow and only begins to pick up by chapter 8.

Again, please do point out any mistakes you come across.

Alright, without further ado, here's the first chapter. Would love to hear your views on it.

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Three is a miracle, four a debacle

“Call forth the mighty heroes lore

Bring the hope forlorn before

In honor rise, in courage roar

The three of fate that legend bore.”

(Yet what if mischief brings forth four

Good does not dwell in numbers more)

Boris and his classmates sat in a quiet lunch that day. Having finished his sandwiches, he packed away his lunchbox and took out a juice can. He settled his head down, refusing to participate in the conversation. Beside him sat Ray.

Ray chatted away with Sylvia and Claire, both of them his good friends. The clique centered on him. They discussed his plans for the upcoming weekend. Both girls seemed interested in a nearby fair organized on Sunday and wondered if he could accompany them. Ray was happy to oblige. He wanted to bring Boris along but Claire shrugged it off. “He won’t come. It’s not a book fair.”

Ray mumbled an apology to Boris. Boris did not mind. He was in the land of dreams already. The stupid grin on his face annoyed Ray to no end. Ray was still in the middle of deciding how to whack him awake when it happened.

At first, Boris felt slight tremors. Before he could get up or ask around, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit him hard. The ground twisted. The air flickered, simmered and shifted. His world whirled in spirals and blinded out in immense light. Before he knew, Boris crashed. Dust flamed his lungs and he coughed violently. Struggling around to grab something, he found the ground and pushed his legs to stand. Others coughed in the dust before him.

“Are you two alright?” It was Ray. He probably located Claire and Sylvia and enquired about their condition. Always considerate of others, that was his trait.

“What the heck was that?” Boris grouched.

“Boris?” Ray asked through the dust. The lighting here made it look like he was standing in a fog.

‘Is this a prank event?’ Boris wondered.

Before he could grasp the situation, someone shouted before them. “See! See!” It was a female voice, an unfamiliar one. The tone was childish and Boris could almost make out a small brat jumping about.

“What is happening?” Claire asked.

More clamors went over their heads. Then someone almost roared. “Welcome dear heroes, to our world, the world of magic and miracles.” The deep voice echoed in softer hums and dust began to clear out of their vision. Boris spotted the ceiling now. It was a massive circle, tall beyond sight. Its heights blurred into darkness. The lighting seemed out of a drama theatre—small torches glowed in red orbs and larger blue orbs hovered in a circle around them. A lot of work would have gone into this. And it showed. Eerily, the lights flickered and bobbed, sending his shadow twisting and quivering.

Boris scowled at his shadow and noticed the symbols etched into the ground. A triangle of blue glowed with circles and motifs. ‘Definitely a shady theatre,’ he decided.

“It is in great need and dire circumstances that we call upon the protection of ancients to save us, the greatest of miracles and the strongest of summons… ” the voice went on and on in a monotonous tone, as if narrating a drama script, “… the summoning of heroes, the greatest of saviors. I thank God for blessing us with such champions of justice as you… three?”

The voice choked. The room cleared up and Boris noticed a group of weirdly dressed people with awkward expressions staring back. A small girl dressed in witch’s robes stumbled around with her staff. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped comically. Others in loose robes surrounded the girl, hissing and croaking while they each enacted their part of a tableau.

Behind the robed freaks, audience stands climbed up. The space was huge. Wide arches emerged across the walls and disappeared into the darkness of the ceiling. Pillars marked the circumference. The lighting turned brighter, the orbs glowing furiously. For a theater, the turnout was remarkably low. Was this really a theater? People raised confused voices, yelling at the men in robes below.

“Silence!” a voice ordered and Boris witnessed a huge man rise up. He wore a golden crown on his thick wavy hair and deep maroon robes, richly embroidered and gleaming in golden yellow. A few others huddled around him.

“Oh, he totally looks like a king. Is this a drama theatre?” Claire asked, reflecting his views.

“How did we get here?” Sylvia added. That was the right question.

Ray observed the events with growing worry but it had yet to cross his face. He spread his arms wide behind him, covering them. A sense of danger pricked him and Boris felt the same now.

Boris ran a cautious gaze all around, finding a woman still smiling at them. She looked young and, for lack of a better word, marvelous. Her loose white robes had wide sleeves patterned in vines and flowers. Two sashes wrapped around her, one at her chest and the other at her waist. Long black hair cascaded over her shoulders in smooth locks and ran down her back. He smiled back at her confidently, to which she smiled back brighter. It was a reassuring smile and he knew everything would be all right, that is, until the man dressed like a king reentered the room.

“We welcome you heroes, to the world of Gaia, the world of magic and miracles. Our world is in great need of your strength and valor. Help us lest we perish.” He spoke in rapidly improvised speech. Something was weird and it soon became apparent. “It may seem out of place to you all but we meant to summon three heroes and not four,” the kingly man added with haste, “so before proceed any further I request that you let us determine if all of you are indeed heroes.”

‘What was that?’ Boris frowned, enraged. He had barely made any sense of the situation and some snobbish man was already asking them something stupid.

His friends were as confused as he was. It did not help that some fifteen odd faces looked at them in veneration, with some confusion mixed in. The little girl acted strange, her face pale with disbelief.

“Let us not get so hasty, Your Highness. Why don’t we relax and start with introductions and then we’ll slowly see to the other problems.” The one to speak was the maiden in white robes. Her voice carried more weight that her stature predicted, making the king grumble under his breath.

‘Your Highness!’ Boris frowned harder and Ray gulped.

“Alright,” the king conceded, “I suppose that is one way to do it. Heroes from the other world, I am Durham Dwin Salvem, king of the kingdom of Cumaria, the one who summoned you to save my world from demons. The only way to do so is to defeat the demon lord. Before you, stands my entourage of Royal mages and the archimage Violet.”

‘Oh,’ Boris realized, ‘I am still asleep. Damn, I should stop napping during lunch break, the school always gives me weird dreams… This one sure is surreal but that demon lord reference gave it away.’ He pinched himself, harder, smacked a little. He did not wake up.

So he went ahead and smacked Ray, might as well do it in a dream. Ray turned to him quizzically and Claire punched Boris hard, sending him toppling to the ground. “What are you doing?!” she asked in an outrage.

“Trying to wake up obviously,” he told her as he got back up. “Now get out of my dream, will you?”

Claire looked at him, thinking a while before punching him again. “Ouch! Stop that!” he hissed.

“Doesn’t look like a dream,” she said and turned to Ray. Pinching his own cheeks, Ray nodded in agreement.

The little girl in fancy magic robes was snickering now, her cheeks full while she tried to stifle her laughter, her hands gripping her abdomen. Boris did not like a child laughing at him. So he walked up to her, snatched her staff and knocked her head. “Don’t laugh at your elders shorty,” he warned her.

“S-shorty!” the girl’s face turned red, her cheeks now full with anger, her nose billowing steam. “I am Violet, the Royal Archimage of Cumaria,” she bellowed. “You will not address me with such insolence!”

Boris rubbed her head as an apology at which she tried to hit back. Boris held her head firm, preventing her short arms from reaching him as she waved them about.

“Cute,” Ray uttered before he could think.

“Wh-what! You there, how dare you address the high stature of royal archimage as cu— !”

“That’s enough Violet,” the black haired woman flicked her forehead.

Violet almost wept. “Elaine!” she cried as she jumped into her. The woman held her tenderly. “Now, now,” she quieted her as she rubbed her head. It was a moving scene. The audience took out their kerchiefs and wiped the snot from their noses.

Once the scene was over, Violet hid behind Elaine, giving Boris a snarl. ‘How childish,’ Boris thought as he made faces at the impudent brat. Sylvia coughed beside him, prompting him to stop.

Elaine faced them and gave a slight bow. “My name is Elaine, the Maiden of Light. It would be my humble pleasure to guide you on your path, heroes. I can see that you are confused and tired. Worry not, we shall allow you to rest and give you all the answers you need.” A magnetic charm emanated from her, a dignity beyond compare to others. Ray watched her agape. Claire and Sylvia frowned at Ray, while Boris smiled obliviously.

Elaine motioned to the guards to escort the heroes outside. A few people still grumbled. “But Elaine,” Violet voiced her resentment.

Elaine smiled at her. “Yes?” Her aura made a drastic change. The charm died and terror spilled out. Violet paled even as the others drew back. “Any complaints?” Elaine asked, hiding a storm of darkness behind her perfect smile.

Boris’s smile melted away like plastic. With a desperate shake of their heads, everyone followed Elaine outside.

They took the stairway up. It was spiral corridor with wide stone steps, lighted by torches every few feet. The walls were old and grey, probably carved out of stone. The lights did not look natural. The torches held what looked like half-broken eggs and flames danced over it in red swirls. The color itself was unnatural.

Steps climbed around the stadium chamber and opened into a small room. The passageway hid into a recess and a slab of stone retracted to cover it. They had been underground. Whatever it was that happened must have been a secret.

The situation was weird. Ridiculous. Boris had an inkling by now. It boded upon ill and rested upon unbelievable. What was this place really?

The answers came soon. They were in a castle, with towers and spires and passageways. Men marched along the path with swords, spears, pikes and shields. Men in weird armor and solid formations, gathered as if to guard them. With every step the king took, they bowed and offered praise. Durham waved them away with a hand and led them on through a confusing network of shaded passageways.

The corridor climbed up and they entered open passages, affording a ridiculous view. Lofty mountains made the background. They scraped the clouds and made the castle seem puny. The castle itself seemed carved against the backdrop of peaks. Carved because the peaks dropped almost vertically, as if shaved off. The air was colder in the open, and Boris drew his arms close in the chill.

The castle extended out in a semi-circle, with concentric walls of defense. The innermost part was the tallest, and held two curiously long towers. They hovered in the air without a base, the air around them shimmering like glazed paper. Boris was overwhelmed for words.

“That is the centre of air defense, the shielding towers,” a bulky man answered when he saw Boris gape.

“Do towers float in the air?”

The man smiled. “No, not usually. Those are enchanted and anchored magically, so that they do not fall to ground offensive.”

A visible pulse emanated periodically from the tower, travelling along an imaginary hemisphere to the ground. A faint, curious screech travelled up and Boris peered down to catch a glimpse of the largest lizard of his life, complete with wings and a thorny tail. Grown men seemed to struggle like toddlers before it. The scene disappeared as they turned into a hallway.

“This is not anywhere on God’s earth,” Boris told Ray in a daze. Ray nodded seriously. Something somewhere had gone incredibly wrong. They needed to find out fast.

After a while, they sat in a small chamber of the inner castle.

A large ovoid table, deep brown and carved of wood, occupied the center. Its polished surface reflected the occupants seated around. The wavy haired king with thick eyebrows sat at the head, his royal garb now visible to sunlight that sneaked in through the glass windows. At his either side were two old coots, looking obsequious and smarmy. They wore a robe of grey and red shawls over it.

In the middle sat a towering man in authoritative dress. His coat of deep brown was inlaid with a line of silver, and an insignia of swords crossed over a shield at his left chest. Lines of grey, blue and red intermingled at his shoulders, reaching down to arms. He wore a pristine suit of white and brown trousers that overlooked heavy leather boots. His features were rugged and his skin brown. His eyes commanded a discipline with their brown irises. He sat firm, overlooking the room with a simple gaze.

‘Probably the military commander,’ Boris gauged. His eyes turned to scan the rest of the room.

Violet sat two seats away from the tower man. The difference was stark between them, making Violet look littler. She looked at Boris with open hostility but still shuffled against Elaine, slightly uncomfortable. The other weird men dressed in weird long robes that followed her were gone. Elaine sat by her side, her expression calm and her eyes smiling. The black of her eyes was darker than her hair and it pulled the light in.

Boris pulled himself out of her gaze, quite reluctantly at that. She noticed but said nothing.

A soldier stood behind her, another towering fellow. There were too many towers in this castle. He wore steel plate armor neck to toe, with his helmet held under his left arm and his right arm free to grasp the sword at his waist. And from the way he glared at Boris he would gladly do so.

Boris occupied a seat beside Sylvia, opposite to Elaine. Ray sat between Sylvia and Claire, his usual seat.

Elaine coughed when everyone was comfortable, drawing attention. It was unnecessary. Boris was already paying enough attention to her.

“Then, let me begin by welcoming you to our world. It is a different world, with different rules and circumstances but I hope you will come to love it. You may choose to gainsay my words but, as you shall see, I speak the truth. Before I speak any further, let us all introduce ourselves. It will help understand the situation. I will answer any questions you have afterwards.” She spoke in a candid voice.

“I will begin, I am Elaine Sithe, the Maiden of Light, a leader of the Legion of Light, formed to face the threat of demons. You may call me Elaine.” It was brief and succinct. And a little absurd, but Boris gladly accepted her words for truth. Such a beauty would not lie.

The bratty mage girl followed her. “I am Violet Feyl Farlore, royal archimage and meister of the Sorlock Academy for Magic, adept of four disciplines and twenty year old adult. It was I who magnificently summoned you.” Her pitiful chest puffed up and her nose pointed high as she asked for admiration.

Boris found it nonsense, especially the adult part. The girl was obviously parading her age, seeing her pitiful height and flat chest. ‘She should start drinking milk soon or she’ll stay like this forever.’ One look at the girl and three things came to mind, short, flat, ginger head.

Violet responded to his rude thoughts with a glare. A spark erupted from her azure eyes and Boris sparked back. Elaine put a hand on Violet and Sylvia on Boris before it could escalate.

The tower in brown coat spoke next. “I am Welmar Wesburn, commander-in-chief of the royal army of Cumaria,” he said, surprising Boris by his gruff voice. The voice did not rise or fall, but carried a deep bassy underline. Maybe his throat was bad or maybe his voice was too deep. “I will hopefully be overseeing you for the following days.”

Why, was a possible question, but Boris knew the answer well. Towering as he was, it was no doubt he would be overseeing them. In fact, his position meant he would be overseeing the entire castle, with its soldiers, towers, and whatnot.

The king followed next, eager enough that he jumped over the two old coots to his left. “I am Dorham Dwin Salvem, king of the kingdom of Cumaria, the one who had you summoned to save my world from demons and defeat the demon lord. Before you, st- sits my entourage,” he repeated his prosaic lines theatrically, thinking before adding, “and from my left these are my counsels, Rorik, Kailer, Mirak and Bivlon.”

The old coots each nodded at the mention of their name, their few teeth visible in the smile. Boris immediately decided that these were minor characters, with no role to play. He even wondered why they had faces, a very rude insult that went unsaid when Ray stood up for introduction.

“I am Ray Edson,” Ray spoke firmly, implying his presence and confidence. “My friends and I come from a world called Earth.” It looked like he bought into this being a different world. It was not every day one saw floating towers and giant lizards. His face turned as he addressed each person in the room, his brilliant blonde hair and sharp grey eyes creating a noticeable response. “We are all sixteen years in age, if the measure is the same here, and we are students, or scholars you may say. You can call me Ray.”

Boris smiled and barely kept himself from clapping. Ray was brilliant as always. his words summed up about all they should let on. He seemed a bit like a narrator than a leader but his features were enough to counter the difference. A long nose, sleek eyebrows, large eyes, a square chin and some beautification added on. Added with a good heart and a considerate personality, it created Ray, a perfect human sample. People admired him.

Claire, who deferred her chance to Ray, stood up next. “I am Claire Mayfell, sixteen, girl, student. Call me Claire.” A curt introduction. Claire had short-cropped blonde hair and lively brown eyes. She was considerably tall, almost six feet in height with an athletic body. There were slight freckles on her high cheekbones and a dimple on her right cheek. She was a mass of enthusiasm when active and an incarnation of chaos otherwise.

Sylvia stood up next. Students had a habit of standing up when they introduced themselves and raising their hands at random times for random purposes.

“Sylvia Trish, same. Call me Sylvia.” Pithy. Cool.

Sylvia had always been cool. She could freeze you in annoyance. Her hair was drawn back in an auburn ponytail. Her trademark eyes were sleek, large and intelligent green. A thin nose and thin lips made her eyes seem even larger. Her skin was fairer than Claire, a result of less outdoor activity.

Boris improvised. “Boris Debron, same.” Pity.

He got some surprised looks, leading him to reframe his words. “I mean same age but a boy, and call me Boris please.”

Boris himself had a head of brown in double whorls of hair. His face was more round than sharp, except for his nose that stood sharp and straight. His eyes were dull black, and looked dispirited or evil depending on the observer. Right now they looked more sleepy than creepy, a result of his interrupted afternoon nap.

The tower behind Elaine spoke last. “I am Arthur Syburd, Knight Guardian under the service of His Highness, the king of Cumaria.” The man was stiff, definitely a stickler for rules. His face visible above his armor looked young, in twenties, with streaks of long almost silvery black hair and tempered green eyes. He could give Ray a run for his looks.

Boris was about to ask him what he ate to become like this when Elaine spoke, “I am sure you have many questions, please ask.” Her eyes scanned them and rested on Ray.

“Then, first, where exactly is this and why were we called here?” Ray asked. It was always good to get accurate answers to these simple questions.

“This place is the conference chamber in the inner part of the imperial castle in the capital city Orin of the kingdom of Cumaria, located in the north eastern border of the southern landmass of Virdia and adjacent parts of the northern landmass of Gelacien. You were summoned as heroes to help us win the next Infernal war against the demons by defeating the demon lord who rules above them.”

‘Too much exact!’ Boris found his head overheating from that information while Sylvia and Ray both nodded, taking it in bit by bit. Claire paid it no heed.

“Um, pardon please?” Boris asked.

“Let me put it this way. You are inside the king’s castle and the king must go to war against the demons, so he summoned heroes to kill their boss, the demon lord.” Elaine toned down her explanation to simple and Boris nodded.

‘Eh? Kill the demon lord?’ Boris thought it absurd.

“Miss Elaine,” Boris voiced, his hands gesturing, “You maybe got the wrong idea. We are you know, students. Like people, young people, most with a boring routine and little talents. The most we can do is to read a book overnight, or maybe throw a ball very far, or run away. Fight, I mean Claire here can beat me up, but kill the demon lord? We have difficulty killing a mosquito, you know. Where in the right mind did you choose people like us?” Boris tried to put it calmly, but the disbelief in his voice spilled out as his eyes widened a bit. It was almost self-deprecating.

He got a look of pity, a look of understanding and a look of ridicule. The last one came from Violet.

“I see how you think,” Elaine replied. “However, we do not choose the heroes. They are chosen by their aptitude and potential. The past heroes also had doubts, but they were all gifted with strong capabilities and so are you.”

“So you have been repeating this process?” Sylvia enquired at the mention of past heroes.

“A hundred and nine years, after the death of the demon lord the next one is born about one hundred and nine years later. It has been one hundred and nine years since the last Infernal war ended and the previous demon lord died. We summoned you exactly in time, so you can be prepared to fight.”

“And if we say no?” Claire turned to the king.

“You will have to fight,” the knight Arthur said gruffly, but Elaine quieted him with a hand.

“You have every choice to deny,” the king replied, his voice firm, “but I hope you will not. You are our only hope. Against a threat that will come, against a threat we cannot contain. The harmonic races cannot hold their own against the demonic forces, humans much less so. Should you forsake us, we will perish, our nation fall, our people die. Should you join us, I assure you we will kill the demon lord. None but the heroes can actually do so, you have my word on this.

“I will not claim to buy you with riches, or threaten you with death. But I can only offer you any support if you join us.”

It was a clear statement. This was a different world, and much as this world needed help from them, they needed help in this unfamiliar world.

“Alright, we will do it,” Ray spoke, Claire and Sylvia both nodded.

“Huh?” Boris almost nodded. He had a bad habit of following Ray because Ray always made sensible decisions.

“Are you alright in your mind?” he asked Ray. “This not a dream you know, you just offered our heads to demons, on a damn plate.”

“Calm down Boris, don’t you see how this works?” Ray replied.

“Yeah, how does this work? Are you the new authority on absurd decisions?”

“Of course not! Have you never come across this? A different world in trouble, demons, magic, demon king. Isn’t there only one logical choice? Become a hero and kill the demon king.”

Sylvia and Claire both agreed. There was this stupid confidence in his voice, Boris cringed at it.

“Are you really alright with this?”

“It has always been my dream, my fantasy and I am getting a chance to live it, you know.” Ray felt fulfilled and resolved. Boris always knew Ray was slightly crazy. He helped people without thought, worked harder than anyone else and was always positive. That was crazy but people admired him. Well, now people would see the craziness.

“How admirable!” “Indeed, a great man.” “An honorable resolve.”

Boris struck his head. The people around him were crazy too. They admired Ray even more.

“Sylvia?” Boris asked, hoping for the most levelheaded person to admonish or at least question Ray.

“I will go with Ray,” Sylvia answered. She was done for.

Claire was already decided, she would never oppose Ray. Boris would have no choice but to stick with the group. Maybe beat some sense into them.

“Alright,” Boris surrendered, “let me join you.”

“Of course you are with us,” Ray stressed. He always regarded his friends as one.

“One last question though,” Boris stared into Violet, “how do we return to our world?” He was hoping Sylvia would have asked this, she was often the first to notice such problems. The question caught Ray off guard, as if he never wondered about it.

“You were summoned under a contract to kill the demon lord and once you fulfill it, you will automatically return to the same time in your world,” Violet answered.

“You mean no time will have passed between when we came here and when we return?” Sylvia asked.

“Exactly, I guarantee it on my name as archimage,” Violet boasted.

“Can you do that shorty?” Boris doubted her.

“Of course, who do you— you called me shorty?!” Violet shouted, anger turning her cheeks red and her eyes sharp. Elaine restrained her gingerly.

“Is there no other way?” Boris asked, already somewhat dejected.

“None that we know of,” Elaine answered.

Boris knew it had to be this way; there was no escape route. This was what the armored knight meant when he said they would have to fight.

“Then,” the king looked at Ray, “can I take it that the heroes have accepted our entreaty?”

“We will do it,” Ray replied confidently.

“Hurrah!” screamed the counsels, drowning the king’s voice. The atmosphere turned jovial. Boris accepted the situation and leaned back in his chair.

“So,” Boris said, turning to face the king, “you said there were only three heroes, we are four.” He dropped the bombshell.

“You are right, from what we know there should be only three heroes,” the king answered gravely, looking between his counsels as they fidgeted. He turned to Elaine. “Please, do the honors.”

The counsels squirmed, Violet slumped and Elaine picked up a small case, opening it to produce the contents on the table.

“Touch this,” Elaine said, pointing at a card that lay at the centre of the table, on a velvet cloth. “It will recognize the heroes.” Her voice sounded light, but perhaps a mix of sadness lingered there.

Ray stood up, leaned over and touched the card. For a moment nothing happened, then, as if suddenly waking up, the card glowed bright red and radiated brilliance.

“The mark of red,” Elaine answered, “is for the knight, blessed with courage and strength. You are the sword and the shield. Congratulations.” She smiled.

Ray smiled back in excitement. “Thank you.” The summoning did not just discover the heroes, but also invented them. It chose the most suitable, empowered them and influenced them. It meant that every hero felt a subconscious urge to become one, and the excitement Ray felt was an effect. Even before they accepted the role, they were destined to do so, three of them at least.

Claire got up after Ray and touched the card. It brightened once again, turning yellow and warm.

“The mark of yellow is for the archer, blessed with swiftness and dexterity. You are the bow and arrow. Congratulations.” Heat rose up in Claire’s chest. It was an exhilarating feeling. She beamed and sat next to Ray.

Sylvia touched the card next. Boris had relegated himself to being last a while ago. ‘Ladies first, or so they said,’ he mused, examining the card. It glowed sharp blue.

“The mark of blue is for the mage, blessed with intelligence and capacity. You are the staff and the orb.” Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief at that, assured that she was a hero. When she looked at Boris her face turned apologetic. Boris chuckled in response. For all they knew, there could have been four heroes. If otherwise, he did not need to work and could enjoy this world at his will. It was a win-win situation. He leaned over and touched the card with a steady hand.

The card lay still a moment, then shook violently and crumpled.

Boris looked at Elaine, as if asking what it meant. Her expression was dark and somber. He shrugged, thinking it meant he was not a hero and moved back. Heavy silence descended. The king regarded him like he was a cripple. Violet, the archimage girl, showed a blank stare, and the counsels held their faces curious.

“He’s an inept,” Violet muttered in wonder.

“A what?” Boris asked her.

“An inept,” said the king, “meaning you have no talent for magic, no mana and no capacity to acquire it. I am sorry to say you are truly unfortunate. Not only can you not be a hero you cannot even become a soldier. Even commoners can use magic…” he paused to let the explanation sink, “The card reacts to magic on touch and crumples if there is none. This is the first time I have seen it. I cannot believe inepts still exist.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so bad. Aren’t there any other ways to use magic? Like mana stones? Or maybe something that doesn’t require magic, like sword arts?” Boris assured him, making the most of his knowledge.

“It is worse than it sounds,” Violet explained, sympathy visible in her eyes, “We live on magic, our plants have it, our lands have it. Our world thrives on mana. You cannot—”

“Enough, Violet,” the king reprimanded in a loud, heavy voice. Violet stopped, her face pained. Elaine shook her head.

Boris licked his lips. The air turned worse, the excitement ebbed and he could palpate the anxiety. Sunlight seemed to hide the darker facets of the room.

“It would be in your best interests to keep this fact a secret. This world is not kind to inepts,” the king warned him.

Boris took his advice to heart, gulping it down. His eyes wavered. Thoughts made it across. From the look on their faces, nobody in the room would say any more. Regardless, there was little he could do. He decided to stay with Ray’s decision. Getting back was impossible for now. And since he was called an inept, he did not know if the kingdom even wanted him.

“Then what do you propose for me?” he asked Elaine, eager to understand his position.

“He will stay with us,” the answer came from Ray. He stood up, and the look in his eyes said he would not take a refusal. He swept a firm glance and fixed the king in his stare. “You will allow him all the privileges you allow us, and you will not treat him poorly. Only if you guarantee that, will we cooperate.”

Sylvia and Claire supported his claim.

Boris was taken aback. He was happy to have his friends worry for him, but it was almost a threat. A very poorly framed threat. If the kingdom declined them help, they would be on the roads the next moment. He hoped Ray would have been gentler instead of dictating out demands.

The commander Welmar, who had maintained a stern silence all along, got up. He was now more of a tower than ever. He glared at Ray in intimidation. Then he smiled, a tough, approving smile. “You have my word. The kingdom will treat Boris Debron with all due courtesy and without ridicule.”

An agreement was thus reached. The kingdom accepted Boris as a comrade of the heroes, and promised him the same treatment.

In Scifer 1716, year 109 of the Twelfth Era, the kingdom of Cumaria summoned heroes for the sixth time in their history. In an unforeseen incident, they pulled in a bystander, a mistake they refused to mention in their records.

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And that's it. How was that, did you think the dialogues too much? Or do you find something missing? Speak out below.