Chapter 2 - The unmoved heart

The hallways cluttered with the metallic clanging of the knights’ greaves against the tiled floor. Their footsteps creating an almost rhythmic and war-like percussive beat. A squadron of knights led by an old, decorated commander marched towards the centre of the disturbance -- the madam’s quarters. Drake Fiscious, a life-long friend and subordinate to the previous head of the House of Apollyon, and the current commander of the armed forces of Tessa. He had been caught up all night for the third time this week in a meeting with the governing directors to sort out the tangled mess of affairs in the territory, most of which were directly caused by the irresponsible acting head of the house: Marianne Tuvol Apollyon. The assumption was that the meeting would continue on for another few hours, but it had been cut short by a sudden explosive quake. The estate shook for only a brief second, but it was enough to cause security to go on high-alert.

Under emergency authorisation, Drake sent the governing directors to the shelter under the estate with some of his men while he took up arms and rushed towards the site of the disturbance. Out of all places it just had to be the madam’s quarters -- a place he was instructed very specifically never to enter. Much to both of their chagrin, this was an emergency. The first to arrive at the scene were the servants who had been working in the area, but they had all been too scared to enter and merely wandered about by the entrance.

“Explain the situation,” he commanded in a loud, booming voice which echoed through the hallway.

“We… we haven’t a clue, sir.” The three servants at the scene exchanged nervous glances toward each other and shook their heads. They were as lost as he was.

The door was closed and nothing seemed to be amiss on the outside; whatever was happening was taking place on the inside. Drake walked up to the needlessly ornate white door and slammed his fist against it with enough force to cause it to shake on its hinges. “Madam!” He shouted in a volume loud enough to almost burst the eardrums of anyone within earshot. The surrounding knights were accustomed to it, but the untrained servants fell to their knees and covered their ears. “Are you all right in there?!”

He waited for a few seconds, yet there was no response. He may not have seen eye-to-eye with her -- heck, it would be a lie to say he didn’t outright despise her at times -- but she was still the acting head of the house and his direct superior. He could not… would not allow anything ill to befall her under his charge. He thought about ordering one of his men to get the master key, but that would’ve taken too long and whatever was happening needed to be resolved now. Unhesitant, he drew his broadsword from its hilt and raised it above his head. With one barbaric and mighty swing he smashed the door down. It gave pitiful resistance as it flew off its hinges and slammed down on the madam’s favourite carpet.

He rushed in with his men. Boots muddying the clean carpet and decorations knocked over -- safety was the primary concern. He quickly eyed the frozen woman at the centre of the room peering out over the broken wall. For a moment he believed that might’ve been the enemy with how uncharacteristically silent she was being -- under normal circumstances the volume of her anger would’ve exceeded his. The madam appeared to be unhurt, which meant he could move onto securing the room.

“Secure the room.” Three words were all it took and the men ran towards each corner of the room to take position. They’ve repeated such drills hundreds if not thousands of times. They were like clockwork puppets in how precise and practised their movements were.

A brief exchange of looks with each knight confirmed there didn’t appear to be any immediate danger. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, yet he kept his expression stiff. “Madam, are you unhurt?” He approached the woman who had stood more still than any disciplined knight. Her hazel -- almost a bright amber -- eyes fixed upon the broken wall, peering out -- far out -- into the vast distance of the land that was Tessa. She spoke no words, merely watching. There was something… inhuman about the figure standing before him. He instinctively tightened the grip on the handle of his sword. It could’ve been a case of possession and she might suddenly launch an attack, but nothing happened after a full minute of waiting.

“...!”

He forcibly loosened his grip once he realised what he was doing. He couldn’t believe the thought of fighting the woman even crossed his mind, not because she was his superior, but because she was Marianne -- an untrained noblewoman. In the off-chance she was taken over by some malevolent force she wouldn’t have enough strength to overpower their weakest recruits, much less him -- the Commander of Tessa’s army. Yet, something in the depths of his being screamed at him, that this woman before him was dangerous and he needed to take a fighting posture. He resisted himself.

The woman’s gaze finally shifted -- almost mechanical in how only her eyes moved. She had been like a statue this entire time but now her singular focus was on him. It was like she was evaluating him… his existence. He couldn’t quite penetrate her thoughts; he, a man of nearly forty years of service and almost half of which was spent fighting bloody wars and tyrants, felt the fine hairs at the back of his neck quiver. A single bead of sweat slowly trickled down the side of his face as he waited in anticipation for her response. There was nothing outwardly different to the madam aside from her odd stillness, yet the way she simply stared at him with those cold, judging eyes made him falter briefly.

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“Madam!” A man’s gruff voice shouted from behind the door. The banging got increasingly more desperate. I didn’t feel like responding. I was captivated by the beautiful sight of a foreign world from the hole in my room -- a hole which I created. It was so… artificial. Great green oceanic landscapes of fields and mountains, vast blue pastel expanses of the sky, and serene white clouds. It was as though someone had painted this view.

“Are you all right in there?!” No doubt they were all rushing to my room to check up on the situation, if not out of concern for Marianne, then because there might’ve been a raid from an enemy. The House of Apollyon was an old family with a lot of old enemies.

The knocks progressed into full attempts at breaking down the door. Such impatience. It was understandable though, something was amiss in their own house and they were going to find the source even if they had to turn everything upside-down. Then I heard it. The distinct sound of a sword being drawn. A broadsword. I could feel the weight from the sound of metal being unleashed from its sheath and see with my mind’s eye the sharpness of its edge. A fine sword.

It took no effort to cut down my poor door and enter the room. A tall man amongst them walked up to me slowly and carefully. He was a soldier in the truest sense of the word. It was in the way he moved, the manner in which his eyes skillfully darted around the room to gather clues, to the mindfulness of his breath, and the tension of his steps. “Secure the room.” He glanced at each of his subordinates and with minimal exchange of words they spread out and occupied each corner. Only when he stood before me could I experience the full splendour of his stature. Broad of shoulders, a neatly trimmed beard covering the lower half of his face, a large scar running down the left side of his neck. He was a head taller than me and carried himself with the poise and dignity of a veteran of countless battles. His fading but sharp, careful eyes locked onto me like searchlights. He studied me at a mental distance; there was no love or kinship between me -- or Marianne -- and this man, yet he still went through the motions out of a sense of duty. It was like watching a wind-up doll move on its own.

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Was he even alive? A thought popped into my mind as I looked at him. Were any of these people alive? From my perspective they were all just creations of someone’s vivid imagination -- mere characters on a page in a book. In this artificially created world, what was the distinction between this living, breathing human with the sword in his hand? Would this… thing bleed if I were to stab him? There was a part of me that wanted to try even if it meant the entire estate would suddenly become my enemy; I wanted to really make sure they were the same as me. Of course, it would completely derail the story, and perhaps I was being overly eager with the destructive impulses.

“Should I call for the physician?” the soldier asked.

I looked right back into his fading blue eyes and wondered for a moment. There was an uneasy moment of silent tension as neither of us wanted to carry the conversation. He asked if I needed a physician. Had I been anyone else he would’ve called for them regardless to make sure. That was all I needed to know to establish what my -- what Marianne’s -- reputation was with everyone here.

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

Drake Fiscious, that was this man’s name. I remembered his design from one of the illustrated bonuses bundled with the first novel as a promotion. He returned an anxious glance. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face, but he didn’t let his expression falter for more than a second. “Understood,” he replied succinctly. “Call for a repairman,” he issued an order to one of the servants who had been standing by the entrance.

However, I stopped him. “That too won’t be necessary. You are to leave the wall as it is. The most that needs to be done is for it to be covered up with a sheet.”

He paused. I could tell he wanted to object, but we weren’t exactly on friendly terms and according to the novels he would usually just go along with her whimsy. At the end of the day, Marianne was merely the acting head of the house and in about a year’s time she would be replaced by the rightful heir -- the main character of this book. He needed only to endure for a bit longer.

“As you wish,” he said as he moved onto the more pressing topic. “Then madam, could you explain what happened?”

I debated whether I should tell him truthfully. Was Marianne the type of person to do that? In my mind she was the kind of character who made things much more difficult for everyone around her due to her arrogance and petulance.

“No,” I said.

“Pardon?” He didn’t appear angry or annoyed at my response more so than he did speechless. He cleared his throat to try again. “Madam, as a matter of security I’m in charge of overseeing this incident. I must know what happened in order to ensure it does not occur again in future; if there are holes in our security this could be a grave matter.”

I sighed deliberately. “Unnecessary. There are no attackers, no one was injured, and I grow tired of your people milling around in my room.” My voice didn’t feel like my own. The poison of Marianne’s tongue seeped into my words and forced a harsher tone.

“With all due respect, I cannot follow your-”

“Leave.” I cut him off. “Leave or I’ll have you removed from your position,” I threatened. It really was just a threat as I doubted Marianne had the power and support necessary to actually remove such a pivotal figure from our governing board. Unless I did it with outright violence and physical force, the other members of the house would vehemently object and veto my decision. That said, it was enough to relay my intentions on not continuing this series of inquiries and conversation.

Drake closed his eyes to massage them for a moment. No doubt he was severely annoyed, but in this situation it was a positive as it would make it more difficult for him to internalise the change between me and Marianne. There wasn’t a particular need to keep it a secret; there was no one to shed a tear if someone like her was gone, but it would only bring up more questions and complicate the matter. Not to mention I would likely lose a lot of authority if people found out I wasn’t the real head of the house.

That was the end of our conversation. He didn’t answer me but gestured to his subordinates to leave the room. He was woefully dutiful to the end though, as he made one final check to make sure everything really was safe. Once he was satisfied that no danger was imminent he left.

Interestingly, even though I could see my own stats and levels the same didn’t appear for the other… NPCs. In the game, other people’s levels were at least visible above their heads , but not here. Fortunately, I knew who he was. Drake Fiscious. The novels put him in the role of a parental figure after the main character’s father -- his life-long friend and master -- passed away in an event known as the Second Battle of Jadora’s Pass. Being past his prime he no longer had the same level of vigour necessary to step onto the battlefield, thus he spent his semi-retirement as a sort of Chief of Defence to the House of Apollyon. It could be argued he held more influence in this house than the acting head -- me -- due to his position and garnered trust. At the end of the day, the original Marianne was merely an outsider who got lucky and married into the Apollyon family -- she was not of true Apollyon bloodline. Most, if not all, the guards under the employ of the house would sooner die with Drake than to vow loyalty to her. The primary reason why no revolt had taken place to overthrow Marianne, despite her clear detriment to the territory, was because of the former head’s first child, the main character. She would be turning eighteen next year and would rightfully succeed as the true head.

Personally speaking, this was fine; I had no intentions or interests in ruling this place like some kind of king. If the main character wanted to waste her time with trivial nonsense like this then she was more than welcome to. Since I knew how the story would progress it was highly unlikely I’d meet the same fate as the novel, so my most pressing issue was on what I wanted to do going forward.

This place still didn’t feel real to me, but I also had no intentions of trying to claw back to my former life. It… wasn’t the best life.

I sighed thinking about it. There was a bitter taste in my mouth but I shook my head to forget. A gentle breeze flowed through the hole as if to console me, to show me the beauty this world could hold. As for why I wanted that hole in my room to remain, it was because this was now my starting point. If I had to live my life as Marianne I had no desire to follow the same doomed path as she did. Doing something she would never -- could never -- do was the best way to differentiate myself from her. This was my mark upon this world. I did it, not her.

As all the commotion and confusion wound down, one person stepped over the broken door and entered the room wearing a worried face. “Mother?” Just as I thought I’d be free from the hassle, the soft voice of a young teenage girl called out to me. A meek girl in her late teens. Her fair white skin had been slightly tanned by the constant activity under the sun. A tone body with good physical features and well-balanced footsteps; she manoeuvred over the splinters of the door with grace and ease to reach me. She moved like a ghost even as I was watching -- her stride was that silent. I began to wonder if the training was for her to become an assassin and not a knight. As she grew closer I could make more details of her features; the contours on her hand were callous -- clear signs of having handled a sword for a long time. Her arms were solid and her standing posture was sturdy. She tied her caramel coloured hair into a ponytail for a more sporty and practical look. Her clear blue eyes like sapphires held up in bright daylight, they glimmered as she seemed to stare right through me and into my soul.

This was the protagonist of this world: Priscilla Tuvol Apollyon. Marianne’s… my step-daughter.

As I cast my gaze over the being which this entire world should rightly revolve around, I felt…

Nothing…