Resh was known not only to his family but to his community as a whole, as a set of walking contradictions. He could go from being the life of a party with a charisma to rival kings to a shy wallflower to a stern unyielding father figure in an instant. The secret to his demeanor which was said to shift on a moment’s notice was his ability to compartmentalize. Today was a day that tested that skill more than any other he had lived thus far. He had almost lost it there, thinking that he could do anything against trained soldiers in a foreign army. For the first time today, he was thankful to have Alice around. Even if her advice had been self-serving, it was no less correct.

Alice and he traversed the streets carefully, slipping behind stalls and ducking through alleyways whenever possible. As they got closer to the old nobility district, the concentration of soldiers gradually increased but no major mishaps occurred. It seemed like the soldiers were looking for something, with capturing slaves as an offhanded secondary mission. The sick to your stomach feeling clawed its way to the surface of Resh’s mind before he firmly shoved it back down. Not everyone is Masbai was a saint but no one deserved slavery.

Resh knew he would feel bad about having this thought later, but he couldn’t help but sum the latter half of the journey up as anti-climactic. This was most certainly not the time to be criticizing the overarching narrative of his traumatic life experience, but his inner storyteller couldn’t help but be disappointed in the lack of some revelation, or confrontation. It was a waste of what would certainly have been a decently entertaining second act to a story. He continued his mental tirade of the storytelling prowess of whoever it was that wove the tapestry of fate until he got to the front gate of what used to be the city lord's estate. Used to be, being the operative word as this wondrous miniature palace could hardly be said to resemble the homes of even the wealthiest nobles that Resh had ever seen.

Resh stared at the gate, mouth agape, as Alice calmly rifled through her dress pocket for something. She produced from that pocket, a small metal sphere with gears and inscriptions the likes of which Resh couldn’t fathom. She approached the gate and placed the sphere into a central locking mechanism and the gears on it whirred to life. The gate momentarily groaned so loudly it made Resh nervous that soldiers would come to see what was causing the commotion. After what seemed to him like ages, it finally stopped its infernal groaning and whirring and opened.

Opulent would not begin to describe the splendor of the courtyard in front of Resh’s eyes. A forest of metal contraptions with smooth bending lines and twists he had never imagined were meticulously placed to section off gardens of fruits and vegetables. Resh paused a moment, mouth agape, to take in the beauty of this place. That is, the beauty and the horror. This wonderful place was a temple to the harmonious balance mankind could find with nature, but the sight of a large wooden door broken off its hinges and splattered with blood shattered any hold this place could have on one's heart. It was as if the world itself grasped the heart and lifted into the clouds, for the sole purpose of letting it fall back to the earth. The beautiful escape of fantasy choked by the harshness of reality.

Resh took careful steps forward glancing all around before staring down the dark hallway beyond the broken door. He looked back to see Alice staring into the void of the hallway. Resh thought he could be wrong, but it looked like she was calculating. He had seen the same look on the tax collectors who came once a year to the shop to assure his family had paid what they owed to the lorde. He hated that look. It was cold, and lifeless. As though all meaning in the world had been reduced to numbers. In eyes like that there was no reason to be happy, or sad or anything else. Just infinite numbness. He silently prayed to anyone that would hear him that he would never come to have such a look on his face.

He took a few steps back and called out to her quietly.

“Alice… I know this is a lot, believe me, I understand but we need to get moving.”

She stirred as if waking from a dream. She spoke, but it was like she was out of breath. Her tone was… somber.

“Yea… yea let’s go.”

Resh started towards the door again, and this time he heard shallow footsteps behind him. As they passed through the threshold of the door they could see bodies splayed out at the end of the hall. They paced toward the corpse of one of the invading soldiers. He had a large exit wound on his back. Resh reasoned that the soldiers scaled the walls thinking this place an easy treasure to pillage. It seems like whoever Alice lived with anything but easy to deal with. As they turned the corner they saw the bodies of at least a half dozen soldiers littering the path to the stairs.

Resh leaned down to inspect the corpse of the closest soldier and pulled out a dagger from the man’s belt. He looked back to Alice and nodded before walking up the stairs. About ¾ of the way to the top the clang of metal could be heard. Alice’s eyes lit up with understanding as she raced past Resh up the stairs. Not having any time to think Resh bolted after her. Now that he was paying attention he noticed that she was not in fact faster than him but had been able to run much longer. Thankfully that wasn't a problem as they did not have far to run at the moment.

Through an open door stood a blonde, statuesque woman with broad shoulders and a longsword kicked far to the side of her. A soldier pointed a sword to her throat and said something neither Alice nor Resh could hear. The woman put her hands up in surrender and discreetly glanced at Alice before walking into another part of the room that was out of view. That brief glance must have been some sort of signal as Alice began walking forward almost immediately and Resh was close behind her.

They both walked in the room to see the blonde woman opening a safe with several locks of truly baffling complexity. The locks made the same noisy whirring sounds as the gate, which allowed Resh and Alice to creep up on the soldier a lot faster than they would have otherwise. Resh drew the dagger he had taken off the soldier. Just before Resh was in striking distance, the safe opened with a clicking sound so loud it made Resh stop in his tracks. The woman grabbed a blue pouch and took out a pinkish-gold gear with pulsating blue veins. She stood up and offered it to the soldier. Resh recovered from the surprise of the sound and reared back his arm, ready to strike.

Resh’s heart pounded in his chest. He’d only ever been in one fist fight and that was with his brother when they were kids. He’d certainly never killed anyone. Heavens above, he’d never even wanted to kill anyone. He knew intellectually that killing in defense of another was justified. He tried to repeat it to himself in his head as many times as he could while creeping up on this man, but now the time was here. So would he really be able to do it? He hesitated, and in that moment the soldier drew back his blade. Time seemed to stop for Resh. He could feel it in his bones, that this would be a crossroads for him. This single moment in time would define him for ages to come. There was no time to think, no time to be afraid, there was only action. He plunged the knife into the soldier’s neck deeply before letting go.

Resh took several steps back as the man fell to the floor gurgling his last deathrattle before slumping to the floor. He stared at his hands, feeling that dam around his emotions begin to crack under the weight of today. With a heavy sigh and a few deep breaths he brought himself back to the present. He was close, but it wasn’t time yet to break. He had no idea where all this strength was coming from but he prayed it would last him until he could get somewhere safe.

Alice stared at the back of Resh’s head speechless. She had no real understanding of this boy or the kinds of hardships he had endured in his life, but it was common sense that normal people would have some type of adverse reaction to killing another human being in any context. She was washed over a strange mix of happiness, respect, pity, and sorrow. Watching someone have to cross a line they had not been prepared for would surely be a sight that would follow her for days to come. She watched him as he put his hands to his sides and approached him slowly. In a low voice, almost a whisper, she thanked him.

“Thank you, Reshaan... That couldn’t have been easy. I’m in your debt.”

The tall blonde woman stepped forward and spoke to Resh in a heavy accent.

“Today is certainly a day of many changes. I can’t remember the last time I saw the young mistress speak so humbly to anyone not of her blood. I too must thank you young man. I do not believe I would have survived that encounter if not for your bravery.”

Resh’s words caught in his throat for a moment. He swallowed and came back to his senses enough to respond.

“It is my honor to serve, madam.”

“Hah, Madam? You are too kind. You may call me Hilda.” Hilda turned to Alice as she continued.

“I would love to hear the story of how you and my dear mistress ended up back here together… after we all make it to shelter. This way.”

She spoke in a tone that would hear no arguments, not that Resh had any inclination to argue with the woman. As she strode by him she picked up her sword and walked through a door into another stairwell. Alice followed after her with Resh close behind. They went down three stories as Alice slowly began to recount the events that had led to her and Resh ending up in their present predicament. Hilda frowned at Alice noticeably when she mentioned what she had said to Resh in the market, but to her credit Alice didn’t try to soften any of the events to make herself look better. They went through a door that seemed to lead into a wine cellar. It was dark and dusty until Hilda pressed a stone giving off odd glowing light and torches on the walls flicked to life. She strode forward with her charges in tow, never slowing, while very clearly processing all the details of Alice’s retelling of events. Resh thought she was doing a pretty good job for someone, whose primary profession wasn’t telling stories. Well, in truth, Resh had no idea what her primary profession was but after all that had happened he felt it was safe to assume the woman with no sense of other cultures practices wasn’t a bard-in-training.

Alice finished her retelling right as they came to what appeared to be a dead end. Hilda gave a long ‘hmmmmmm’ of understanding as she reached out for a loose stone on the way to reveal a slot. Hilda reached behind her hair and pulled out a pinkish gold gear that pulsated with purple pulsating light. She placed it in the slot and turned it like a key causing a trap door to open up in the ground. Hilda performed a military grade about face before waving her hand invitingly toward the trap door. She gave a slight bow.

“After you mistress.”

Alice walked past Resh and began to descend the ladder. After she got a couple lengths down the ladder Hilda turned to Resh and bowed deeply.

“From the depths of my heart I want to thank you for all the help you’ve given to my mistress this day. I know she can be difficult at times, but she has led a complicated life. On my honor I will see that you are repaid for your kindness this day.”

Resh squirmed uncomfortably for a moment before answering. He had never been thanked so sincerely by anyone and it made him a tad uncomfortable. Thus far all he had done was react to the situations in front of him the best way he knew how. He didn’t think he did anything worthy of praise, but it would be rude to reject such an earnest apology. He went with his Father’s go to phrase of respect.

“It is my honor to serve.”

Hilda stood up from the bow and ushered him toward the trap door which he descended.

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With the door sealed and the strange automatic torches lighting the place below Resh finally had time to appreciate just how wealthy a noble Alice really was. This underground shelter was at least twice as big as his entire house and had enough supplies to last the three of them for weeks. There were 5 bedrooms and what appeared to be a small armory. As astonished as resh was by all this he really needed to be alone. Today had weighed heavily on him physically, emotionally and spiritually. As Alice and Hilda surveyed the shelter he turned to both of them trying as hard as he could to remember his etiquette through to exhaustion.

“Thank you for your kindness. I am undeserving of such benevolence. Today has been truly taxing, so I will be retiring to this room on the right for the night. Please let me know if I can be of any further service.”

Resh bowed his head to them and walked into the stately room before gently closing the door. Once inside, Resh let out a deep exhale that he had been holding for hours. He walked calmly to the luxurious cushy bed and laid down on it. He let out another sigh, this time it came heavier and faster as if panicked. He glanced at the lit torch by the bedside and found a small turning mechanism which he figured would turn it off. Resh sat alone in the dark for a long while before he grabbed the pillow not currently under his head and held it over his face. He took in a deep breath and screamed into it as loud as he could.

He had no idea how long he actually screamed for but it must have been a long time as his voice was rather hoarse by the time he stopped. Everything he had been holding in from this insane farce of a day came gushing out of him. In his mind’s eye he saw his father’s dead body rotting on the floor of their home. He saw the bodies of his friends and neighbors littering the street. He felt himself plunge a knife into another man’s throat. He thought of his mother and his sister being dragged out of their home by enemy soldiers. He thought of his brothers being forced to work themselves to death in a cave somewhere. He even thought about Herald the Harbinger. He knew it was stupid with all the other absurdly horrific things that had happened today to have anythoughts of an entertainer but he couldn’t help himself. He had been waiting for a day like this for almost as long as he could remember. How could it have gone so absolutely wrong.

It was as if the world had been offended by the concept of him getting something that he had been waiting for and had decided to punish him by taking everything he loved. No matter what happened now, there was a distinct possibility that he would never see any of his family alive again. It was entirely plausible that all the joy in his life had ended this day. The worst of it was the thought that maybe he could have done something. If he had just done as his family told him and given up on his silly dream of telling stories he might have been a better cultivator like his brother. He had taken out one soldier himself with nothing but the element of surprise on his side and a decent knife. If the two of them plus his father had worked together maybe they could have fought their way out of the city. If he had just kept his head down and lived the life he was fated to…. But what good was that now? Everything had already happened. The story was already over. The only thing left for Resh to do, was to cry himself to sleep alone in the dark. And so he did.

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Reshaan awoke with his mind in a haze. He got up off the floor and found himself in an infinite void. There were no walls, no room, no dungeon, no nothing. Just an endless blackness that he could somehow stand on. As he looked around a light came from… somewhere to illuminate his immediate surroundings and he began to hear voices. But these voices were different than any he’d ever heard. They were somehow, more real than any others; as though the sounds he and his kin made with their mouths were an imperfect attempt at what they were doing. He couldn’t make out any words but he somehow knew they were talking about him… Judging him.

Those voices increased in volume; slowly at first but over time they were a dull roar that hurt Resh’s ears. Just as Resh thought his head was about to burst, a voice that exuded pure authority silenced them and spoke to Resh directly.

“Why is it that you weep boy?”

Resh stood still for a second, awe struck by the majesty that this voice radiated. He came to his senses a moment later with a horrified look on his face. If this voice was as regal as it sounded, he might offend its owner by taking so long to respond.

“I weep, oh great one, because I am alone.”

“And why are you alone?”

“I am alone because I was too weak to protect my family.”

The voices returned, bursting into an uproar of conversation. He couldn’t see it, but he could somehow sense that some of them had left. That said he could still feel the gazes of hundreds of these… whatever they were staring at him. That same authoritative voice spoke to him again, cutting off the chatter.

“Do you wish to be strong, boy?”

Resh thought for a second. Did he wish for strength? What difference would it make now? If he had enough would he be able to get his family back? If he got them back would he even be able to keep them safe? He didn’t have an answer to all of those questions at that moment, but he did know that if there was a chance he could have helped his family and didn’t try he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

“No…”

Resh let his answer ring out through the darkness for a second as the murmurs began to rise again. This time, it was Resh’s voice that quieted them.

“I wish for an unyielding strength that none can stand against. I wish for a power so mighty that it washed the world clean of fear. I wish for the means to grow so great no tale or tome will ever capture the works I did to shape a world worth leaving behind.”

The silence of the void was deafening. Resh was worried that he had overstepped his bounds and would be smited for his arrogance by whatever had summoned him here but he knew better than to let that show on his face. After some time, he felt as though the ones staring at him drew closer, and a moment later he was answered.

“Then fight. Fight and show us the will that would wield such power.”

From nowhere in particular a plain looking sword fell and embedded itself in the ground...uhh void floor thing… whatever.. Resh grasped it tight and pulled it out. The moment he held the sword up right and focused to inspect the blade he saw a figure swinging an ornate looking blade at him. Resh stopped the horizontal swing from striking him and leapt back hoping to create some distance. The figure was in the shape of a man, about Resh’s size, but coalesced from a sort of milky mist. The phantom swordsman pushed the attack swinging at Resh relentlessly. Left horizontal, Right vertical, right vertical, thrust, Left leg sweep into a spinning two handed horizontal chop. Resh could barely keep up. He blocked every blow, but that last one tossed him to the ground several feet away.

As soon as he hit the ground he rolled to crouch on his feet and recover. He could feel the presence of about half the spectators vanish. As though they had lost interest and simply walked away. He didn’t let it bother him. Resh knew his physical abilities were decent compared to others his age, but he knew next to nothing about swordplay. If he was going to defeat this opponent it would be by way of cunning. Resh stood and raced forward and began swinging his blade at the phantom who expertly dodged each strike.

Resh continued to hammer away in a simple predictable pattern. Right, left, right right, left over and over again. He barely noticed the sensation of the presences leaving one by one. The phantom continued to dodge for two rotations of it until finally at the end of the second he stepped forward with a thrust at Resh’s left side and gave him a deep cut on his abdomen… exactly as planned. Resh grunted as he shifted his weight and stepped into the blow and stabbed the phantom straight through the chest.

Resh had never held a sword a day in his life, but what he had done was read stories from the 1001 tales about great masters fighting and training disciples every free waking moment of his childhood and adult life. And in every story, the disciples started their training being prideful, quick to anger, and easy to predict. Their masters had to take them down a peg by defeating them with an easy strike before the real training could begin. Resh saw the way this phantom moved and knew immediately that this was a master swordsman. He could have killed Resh several times over by now if he had wanted to, but he didn’t. And that meant he likely wouldn’t again. It’s not like Resh was looking forward to the feeling of being stabbed but a little pain is a small price to pay for the kind of power he was asking for.

The phantom exploded into a spray of mist and Resh let out a sigh of relief as he clutched his wound. He basked in his victory for a moment before it dawned on him that he could feel no more eyes on him. On a second inspection of this weird sense he had, he found that there were in fact one pair of eyes still looking at him. He suspected he knew the voice they belonged to. And he was proven right a moments later.

“Congratulations on your victory, boy. But you have not been found worthy. Throw down your sword and go home.”

Something in Resh snapped. All the years of training him to adhere to courtesy no matter the temperament of the customer flew out of the window and he summoned strength from the center of his being as he spoke.

“NO.”

The voice returned, as angry as Resh thought it would be. He cursed himself for ever thinking that the chattering at the beginning of this ordeal was loud. The voice that spoke to him did so with such force that it rattled his bones and shook his insides. Each word was a hammer against his spirit.

“You will throw down your weapon, mortal. You stood to be judged and were found unworthy.”

“That may be the case but I will not throw down my weapon. My Mother and Father taught me manners, but I’m fresh out of patience for this today. I have no doubt you have the power to end me with a thought, but you’re going to have to come down here and do it yourself if you want this sword back. I’m either leaving here with the power I asked for, or dieing on my feet with my honor intact knowing that I tried.”

“So be it.”

The phantom swordsman returned to his place in front of Resh, and this time he brought friends. 6 other phantoms holding their own weapons at the ready surrounded him. A sword, a spear, a rifle, a chakram, a great axe, a bow, a hand full of magical energy stared him down with corresponding wielders. On any other day of his life Reshaan Ay Abinsuuri would have thrown down his sword and cowered in fear of the overwhelming force before him. That’s what he thought to himself. But today wasn’t any other day. Today was the worst day of his life. And today, he held up the sword in a ready position just as he had seen the phantom master do before him. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Strangely enough he felt relaxed. More so than he had ever been before. He felt a small fire in the center of his being. It didn’t feel like prana, but some other form of energy. No that wasn’t right. It was more like the embers of something that had been left to burn itself out. He pulled on that ember, long and hard until it popped up and he exhaled it. Once it left his mouth, the battle began, but not his battle. The 7 phantom warriors leapt at him in unison, but before they could reach him Resh Ay Abinsuuri had vanished from the battle field. Not physically of course, his body was still there standing in perfect sword form, but the person in his place was a master. The person who stood before the phantoms was the master of masters, the goal of all who studied the art of war. This was a legendary master who had only ever existed in the legends of old.

He moved the clumsy body of that 20 something year old boy like it had never moved before. It was perfect. His every move was perfect. The phantoms swung and stuck and fired to no avail. The master slipped every attack and redirected it towards another until the phantoms were doing nothing more than striking each other. He blocked and parried, and dodged with almost flawless timing. He left multiple deep wounds on each of the phantoms as the battle raged on, causing them to leak their milky mist into the abyss that surrounded them. After a few minutes of this the time began to turn as the body of the master could not keep up with the skill. Slowly but surely, the number of cuts on the master’s borrowed body left him kneeling with all the weapons pointed at him once again.

Resh returned to himself as he slowly opened his eyes. He knew all that had transpired, and so he knew that this was the end. His body screamed in pain from the combination of cuts, bruises, and torn muscles not used to the finesse it had displayed. The authoritative voice returned once more.

“It is over, boy. Throw down your sword and return to your life.”

Resh stabbed the sword into the ground and used it to lift himself to his feet before he answered.

“Then I will die on my feet, knowing that I tried.”

The phantoms tore him to shreds with their combined blows….

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Resh awoke in the luxurious bed, drenched in sweat and panting. He reached over to turn the lights back on as he rubbed his chest where he was sure he would have scars from the wounds he suffered. He found none. What he found next to him was the most intricately carved silver flute that he had ever seen. He grasped it gently and brought it closer to get a better look, and four loud notes rang in his head and he couldn’t stop himself from playing them on the flute. As soon as he let the last note die, the flute grew thicker and the end opposite his face sprouted to opposing silver tendrils that curved upwards like the hilt of a sword. And a blade made from the blackest shadow anyone had ever seen sprang to life before Resh’s eyes.