Kari wasn’t sure what to do about Tythian. She felt like they were losing their grip on the war again. She walked over to her grandfather’s desk. She tried to remember what she found there the last time she looked. She remembered there was a secret drawer, but she forgot how it worked. She opened one of the drawers. It was empty. She knew that not a single drawer was empty when she last opened them. It was clear someone had been there.

Kari ran up to her room to make sure King William’s journal was still where she left it; to her relief, it was. She realized that ever since she grabbed it, she hadn’t taken the time to read through it thoroughly.

She decided to start. She hopped into her bed and leaned against the headboard. The first couple of pages were only text, she read through them, and on the fifth page, she came across the first mention of the conductor.

Helam has been looking too long for the master of power. I don’t think the artifact is a singular piece but can be created from a conductive material that can be accessed using nature. Like lightning to metal, the power should be conducted through a material in the same way. I’ve looked through text after text to find any mention of what the relic may have looked like, but I have not found anything yet. I am going to send for Menthom. If anyone knows about it, it would be him.

“Menthom.” Kari said to herself, “I’ve heard that name before.”

The following passage was dated a few weeks later.

Menthom arrived at the castle of Asiroth to meet with King William. He was accompanied by a procession of three men, each with many packs strapped to their horses. He leaped off the horse and walked to the king. “William,” he said. “Lovely to see you.” He bowed as typical protocol. William had told him many times before that it was never necessary, but he insisted it was essential for anyone in view of them to be secure in royal procedure. Will quickly led him into his study while his attendants took care of the other people in his convoy. Kari’s grandfather was in his early twenties, and a few years before, he attended the Academy of Vasti with Menthom and subsequently became king as Menthom became headmaster. Will sat him down at the table and placed a book in front of him. Menthom looked at it. He closed his eyes. “I know what you’re looking for.”

William could feel the heat from the fireplace next to him, “tell me what you know.” “Parchment,” he said. William got up and grabbed a scroll. Menthom took it, ripped off a large chunk, and held it flat against the wall. Without skipping a beat, he pinned it there with a knife. William laughed. Menthom took a quill and began drawing several diagrams.

It took him about ten minutes. When he finished, he stepped back to look at his work. “Let’s begin,” he said.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

The journal didn’t have any notes on what Menthom told him; Kari turned the page and noticed someone had ripped out several pages. She pressed the spine down; she could tell two pages were missing. On the next page that was still intact, Kari noticed the imprint of something. She held it to the light, and there, sitting almost invisibly, was the number 23.

Kari had no idea what that meant, she looked through the pages she had already read, and she held them up to the light to see if she could find anything she missed earlier. She noticed there were tiny numbers in the crevice of each page. “Numbers,” she thought; she flipped through to page 23. Nothing was there. She thought about the other journals in the library; she hadn’t looked at any of them, and she knew there had to be more. She ran down and began to pull every tattered-looking leather-covered booklet and piled them onto the table. She found about ten or so. She decided that was enough to start with, and she began to go through them.

The first one she opened was very decrepit; at least it was on the outside. The cover was coated in dry mud. She laughed to herself. She opened it and then realized it was a recount of daily events from decades before. She flipped through it and noticed the signature on the last page. It was her father’s. Her jaw dropped. She excitedly returned to the first page and began the journey into his past.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o oo o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

The silence was breathtaking before thousands of soldiers began plowing toward each other. we stood still in the final moment of peace. The wind even slowed as a gesture of goodwill and danced gently through the fickle blades of grass, which caused them to tremble. The moment wasn’t very long, but everyone held onto it. The moments before a huge battle were always fueled with every emotion.

The air was cold and thin, but the anticipation made it almost suffocating. Their breath was still until the enemy horn sounded. The loud billowing hollow noise covered the plains like a thick, murky blanket of snow. A blurry dreary mask of confusion as the hysteria began. my mind was racing, filled with anticipation. The subsequent sounds were not considered as poetic, but the passion and dedication behind them served more than any sound within nature could.

Primal screams as the punctuation of their goal to defend the innocent.

Sent by our valiant kings, the armies of Edegear and Asiroth did not falter, not even in death. I and the heir to Edegear, Henry led them to the battlefield.

We glanced at each other from our large white horses. It was our first battle, our first foray into power. We had begged for the chance to lead an army. The army in which we spent so much of their lives training.

I knew of his parent’s trepidation, and as the battle commenced, I understood.

We galloped and led the masses behind them. Henry felt responsible for our success. our people followed us into a storm of pain and suffering, but not one person forgot the end goal.

I used all of my force behind each blow of my sword. I thought I was powerful, but I felt like a mere child among men. Their swords made horrific clanging noises. I was only sixteen years old, not much younger than many of the fighters. A sixteen-year-old vs. an eighteen-year-old soldier didn’t seem like a big gap, but two extra years of training and battles made the two-year age gap look like it was separated by a decade.

There was blood everywhere, and bodies carpeted the ground. Henry’s horse leaped over body after body as they laid more to rest beneath him.

Despite the difference in the lineage between the fighters on one side, the battleground leveled the field. One of the mouthpieces yelled. The front foot ranks knelt down, and hundreds of arrows shot out. Their arrows arched over the members of their party and struck the lines of enemies assaulting them. The fire-fueled torches were abandoned, lighting some of the grass on fire. It was very dry from winter, the flames didn’t last long, but they did jump a bit from body to body.

After searing quickly through the dead grass, the sky poured down its own gesture of bereavement and quelled the flames. They were trained to eat on their horses if the battle was long so they could fight longer. It was an odd but successful tactic. The battle raged on until the enemy began to retreat.

We were victorious in a pool of blood and exhaustion. Henry jumped off his horse, and we began to loot the bodies. Looting was disgusting, but the most efficient way to get better gear and protect those left. It was better to gather the supplies rather than leave them for the enemy. When we had finished, I led the troops back along the same plains to a patch that was clear of destruction. That was a tactic taught to me by my father, King William. Many tricks were handed down to first-time fighters and, more importantly, first-time leaders on the battlefield. William had been leading armies for decades. Henry was very pleased and yelled out. “Success to Royalia!” The men and women cheered. We continued to chant for about a minute. Henry knew morale was significant. Even in victory, fights were brutal. Therefore, he liked celebrating to unite everyone after an arduous battle. His tactic worked, and they were much happier as they set up for the night.

The Royalia was the name of the combined armies of the two kingdoms from which they hailed. Asiroth and Edegear. Henry loved the name.

The raindrops were not small or light as was expected in winter; they were large and dreary. When each drop made contact, it pooled around itself. Their bodies were covered in murky, wet dirt and blood. My face, only moments before, was caked with dirt, but the rain did its best to remove it. Noticeable streak marks contoured my face.

The soldiers were soaked with sweat and mud, so the rain was a cleansing shower that removed the horrors they saw that day.

The rain was icy cold and eventually turned to ice. The mixture of hard tiny icy pebbles falling from the sky created a weird ambiance. The fields were unattractive under the sunless cloudy sky. Not one visible ray peaked through the masses. It was nearing evening, and even the sunset lacked a proper appearance from the sun. We spent the night recovering. Hundreds of bonfires coated the hills behind them. A poetic tapestry of light painted the valley shielded by only hills and left open to the elements of the sky.

Henry and I sat close to an enormous fire while we tried to shed our wet clothes.

There were about two thousand soldiers, all spread out in a grassy valley. It was clear of trees, just plains of grass for miles.

War is a funny thing; it was a different perspective being a part of it for the first time. We expected that returning to the streets of Edegear would be warm and welcoming. It wasn’t. We thought they would worship us openly, but when we rode through the main roads, no one was cheering for us.