John awoke with a start, brushing off his covers and rolling out of bed. For a minute he simply stood there, panting in the moonlight as the old memories slid off of him. Finally, with a tired sigh, he began to get dressed. He wasn't as young as he had once been. Still, as he got dressed, fragments of his dreams came back to him. To him, dreams were merely relived memories, not the fragments of a wild imagination. His life was absurd enough.

Sunshot they called him. He was like the sun, his coming seen from a thousand miles away, yet unstoppable all the same. He was radiant, illuminating the downtrodden and shedding light on their plight. He still remembered his youth, a time of passion and adventure, yet merely a seed of what he had become. He was tired. Tired of the men that treated him like a god, tired of bearing the immense weight of his own ethos. But he still had a duty. And he would do it.

The crisp night greeted him with a smattering of twinkling stars overhead. The moon was not present tonight. He slowly walked through the streets, shielded from the biting cold by his long fur coat. As he observed the sign of life even in the dead of night, flashes of his own came to him. Of a cold orphan, struggling to survive in a world that didn't care. Of a young man, passionate and hotblooded, eager to prove himself. A middle-aged man, still passionate and strong, yet armed with a growing sense of understanding. He watched his life play out in the empty streets of Rashek. A trail of adventures and impossible feats, stories that had become myths and legends. He followed that trail, walking through lush parks and narrow alleys. Rich manors and dingy shacks. A path to power. Finally, he stood before the main hall of Rashek, capital of Nirvivan. And stopped. A moment of quiet contemplation, a recognition of the path he had walked to arrive where he was.

Creak…

The mighty, but plain, doors in front of him slowly opened, spilling light onto him and the cobbled avenue behind him. His orange eyes slowly opened once more, turning into miniature suns, reflecting the light of the hall.

He took a step forward.

Past and present merged into one as he passed the threshold, a step away from the distant past and into the future. John was the sum of his moments, and he would need every shred of himself for the task ahead.

The hall was well lit, although relatively light on decoration. Every item of value was being used to found the army.

At the end of the hall, another set of bare, but stout, doors opened to lead to the assembly room beyond.

And immediately exposed the world to the cacophonous arguing beyond.

John suppressed a sigh as he once more silenced the hall. As always Tomas was right in the thick of it, red-faced and silently glaring at a young man that glared right back.

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John immediately got the meeting back on track,

“We need more men. More supplies. More funding. More everything. It's not enough.”

The assembly shuffled uncomfortably before on finally spoke,

“We don't have anything else… We have cracked open all the coffers this council had and gathered funds even beyond that. What more can we do?”

John silently stared at the fat man dressed in some of the most opulent clothes he had ever seen.

“You seem to have a lot of money.”

The fat man laughed for a second before realizing John wasn't joking,

“You're serious? I have donated massive amounts of money! What more can you ask for!”

John took in the room, observing some of the assembly members nodding along with the fat man’s words. His face darkened. He had grown very tired of the resistance in the face of what was already an impossible task. Some things could only be taught through the cold touch of death’s scythe. A few of the smarter members began to shrink back.

A dozen shots rang out across the chamber.

In an instant, every man that had been nodding alongside the fat man lost their wig.

A shocked silence settled over the hall.

“An inch lower and each and every one of your brains would be splattered over the seats behind you. Your fortunes will not follow you to the underworld.”

One of the shaking men started to whimper.

John ignored him, each word picking up steam as his very presence suppressed those around him.

“What do you not understand? Everyone here has committed high treason. Unless we win this war your lives are forfeit. Make no mistake, this is not a political game. This is war! Life and death! And if you want to survive it, YOU WILL GIVE EVERYTHING!”

His last words echoed through the chamber, a promise of retribution against any that dared oppose it. Eyes shining like twin suns he continued,

“ARE! WE! CLEAR!”

The fat man had already passed out, but some of the others gave shaky nods. John immediately assumed his calm once more, all evidence of his colossal rage vanishing,

“Now that we have the bare minimum of funding to make this war even possible, what has been Frald’s response?”

Tomas answered that one,

“Since we refused to repeal the declaration and they declared war, reports have indicated forces totalling nearly 100,000 men have been dispatched right towards Rashek.”

Several shocked gasps in the audience revealed that this had not previously been known.

“We only have 60,000,” John stated grimly, “And most are untrained. How long do we have?”

“Well,” Tomas hedged, “The wind has actually been heavily in our favor lately, so it's possible it could take them almost four months to muster their forces.”

“That means we have four months to train our men. It could be worse.” John mused.

“But what about…”

The discussion continued for hours, forging the plans that could mean their salvation. Or their doom.