Lady Goldith was ecstatic to say the least.

There weren't many things in life that would make her as happy as a landslide victory over her enemies. The Harbingers had grouped more than a dozen Ahali settlements against Vissart's unusually large army.

However, unfortunately for those stupid beasts, they had been vanquished without any problem.

In the average of the Vanedeni army, Lady Goldith was the strongest extreme who balanced the weakest extremes. A handful of men had sacrificed themselves for Vissart's safety, the enemies had been slaughtered to avenge their death, and small groups of warriors, who hadn’t fought in the battle, had been sent to raid the cities and villages of those abhorrent monsters of the Ahalis.

The most powerful woman in Vissart, and perhaps all of Kome, felt so proud of giving the soldiers of her city classes suitable for every situation. The warriors who were going to get rid of the Ahali civilians were just part of these special classes.

They were [Marauders], [Raiders], [Plunderers] and [Jackals]. They had a knack for getting defenceless people out of the way and bringing into Vissart's coffers any money or artifacts that were hidden - or being used by any of those disgusting creatures to try and escape.

A toothy smile was printed on the Lady's face. She was still covered in blood and felt so beautiful.

Lady Goldith had spilled on the ground the guts of enemy commanders for about ten kilometres around Vissart. On her way back to the castle she could think of only one thing:

undressing her dear [General Administrator].

Few men - if any, in fact - had ever caught her attention. She had begun her quest to conquer Vissart at sixteen and there had never been time for romance.

Unlike other women in military camps, she had never found any charm in sharing a tent with any man only for a night.

However, her dear administrator seemed like the right person to get some experience hands on. It didn't matter that she had never had a man, she had beheaded a lot of enemies and wasn’t afraid of anything.

She had studied the subject thoroughly, though, finding several books on courtship and lesser-known practices in the sheets. Some of these, especially the ones more aimed at power games, seemed created especially for her.

The power dynamics of master and slave fascinated her, but she would not leave her position of command even in the secrecy of her rooms. She had worked too hard to get to where she was and had not the slightest intention of giving up even a crumb of power.

In fact, when she had discovered ropes and chains, she could not help but imagine her dear Cyrus bound hands and foot to her own four poster bed.

She was already excited and thinking about what she would do to him. If she hadn't decided to celebrate the success of the battle in this way, she would have already jumped on to the [Administrator] the night before.

When Lady Goldith had communicated her intentions to Cyrus, his expression had become terrified, like a prey just before being captured. And the Lady of Vissart had found it irresistible.

God, she wanted to put him on a spit, roast him, and eat him all after covering him in -

“Yo!”

Lath emerged from a corridor and interrupted her fantasies.

"General?" Lady Goldith asked in a serious tone.

They might have been friends, but formality was still important.

“Yo.”

At least for one of them.

"Any news? Were there any problems?"

It was always so tiring to interact professionally with that woman. If Lady Goldith hadn't needed her like water in the desert, she would have fired her long ago.

“Nah.”

Lath put her hands behind her back and began rocking back and forth. Her mouth was bent to one side, just like her eyes.

In the particular, childish body language she loved to use, Lady Goldith knew it meant she had to say something to her but did not want to.

"Yes?" the Lady tried to offer her a chance to speak.

“Mmmmmm.”

It was official, Lady Goldith had put a person with severe brain damage in charge of Vissart's military machine.

"Lath, what is it?" she asked in exasperation.

Lath slid a fist under her cheek, turning her handsome face into a pout.

"Do you promise not to get angry?" was her question.

Lady Goldith was about to grab her hair and pull.

She had always been like this. Silly, to say the least. Immersed to the top of her head in her stupid nonsense.

For those who didn't know her it would have been impossible to understand how that person could be Kome's greatest military expert.

The regent of the distant city of Brig, Lord Karkaster, had personally sent more than one letter of thanks for some book on strategy she had written. The same books that Lath had refused to have decorated with professional illustrations, but she had filled, instead, with childlike scribbles. Because they're nice, she had said.

The [General] had the slender body of a maid who gathers flowers in the fields, and a smile that could light up the darkest room. No one had ever imagined that she would show any talent for war, even though her family was full of noteworthy [Generals] and [Soldiers].

Oh, how wrong they were.

She might not look strong, not have a muscular build or a hard face. She looked like a country girl, unable to harm even a fly.

But the truth was that, without artifacts, Lady Goldith would not dare challenge Lath to a duel. Without an army ten times larger than hers, she would be frightened to find her on the other side of the battlefield.

Lath was a monster.

“For all that is good about our ancestors, Lath. Do you want to talk or not?!"

But even the general knew when his Lady was about to lose her temper.

"Cyrus."

Lath raised her hands and shrugged.

"Cyrus what? Was he hurt by someone? Are there [Infiltrators] in our castle?"

Lady Goldith immediately put her hand on the sword hilt, which was perfectly cleaned, although the battle had ended a short time ago. The weapon had an Enchantment able to keep it clean automatically.

"Not really. He disappeared."

Lady Goldith breathed a sigh of relief and took her hand away from the sword.

“God, Lath, you frightened me. He must have hidden in the warehouse or gone somewhere for fear of being killed. Administrators can't stand him and he's not exactly brave. He'll soon come out, don't worry."

“I’m not so sure about it."

The Lady was about to turn back when Lath's words froze her.

"See, Goldith, I think he ran away."

"What?"

Lady Goldith's aura poured into the corridor like a raging river, so loud that even the reinforced stones around them creaked.

“Hehe."

Lath made a gesture she had learned from Cyrus. She raised thumb and forefinger of both hands, mimicking two guns, and waved them towards the other woman, as if he were shooting at her. Winking, her trademark.

“Yo! What should I tell you, you must have made him flee. I tried to paint you in your better light yesterday, but he must have been scared after you made him feel like a pig sent to the slaughterhouse.”

Lath stopped talking for two seconds, then seemed to think of something.

"Sausages."

It was the only thing she said, chuckling to herself.

"[General]. How do you know that Cyrus has escaped?"

Lath did not flinch at Lady Goldith's murderous aura. She nodded at her slowly, narrowing her eyes.

"Right."

She whistled so loudly that Lady Goldith's ears would have bled if it weren't for her physical resistance.

Almost a minute passed in silence as the Lady was about to throttle her [General].

She was about to skin Lath alive when she heard footsteps.

"Milady, [General]."

A little fat man with rosy cheeks appeared in front of them, a well-known image.

“Gazius?”

“Yes, milady. Your general has asked me to check some things after the battle and some irregularities have emerged at the last minute. It seemed a coincidence, at a first glance. But it all came out as soon as the Curtain was removed in the vicinity of Vissart."

“What kind of irregularities, Gazius? Has there been any damage to the city? Has the production been blocked or has someone died?"

Lady Goldith was foaming with anger. She could already imagine what kind of damage her dear [General Administrator] could have caused if he had wanted to. He was such an intelligent man that he could create a real catastrophe.

If Cyrus had dared to betray her, to deceive her... May the Harbingers put wings on his feet, because only that might save him from her fury.

“No, milady. The production continues to be..." the words came difficult to the man, "excellent, as for the whole last month. But your hunters have disappeared and we cannot contact them. Lath has asked me to take an inventory of your treasures and it appears that, on a quick check, several minor artifacts have been requisitioned without being registered. Also, a chest in room sixteen has disappeared. Its content is not recorded in our ledgers, maybe you could shed some light on— "

Lady Goldith punched the bare stone wall, sending splinters of rock flying around. Lath put a hand in front of Gazius's face, to keep him from being blinded by the flying shards.

“Cyrus is not stupid, Goldith. He made all [Hunters], [Pathfinders] and [Trackers] vanish into thin air. None of them are reachable, not with messages, magic or skills. They are under the protection of some artifact or a really powerful skill. He must have sent them somewhere where they can't be reached by us. The strongest that is still at our disposal is only at level 10."

Lady Goldith began to tremble, freak out, and curse the day she had trusted that bastard.

Lath pursed her lips before speaking: “Do you know that, infact, the wealth that Cyrus has provided to Vissart abundantly covers, with a large surplus, everything he has taken? And besides, if things go on as they are now, we could just receive provisions from the Antidos. Isn't it true, Gazius? Don't you think so?"

Vissart's former [General Administrator] gritted his teeth, furious at having to praise Cyrus's exploits, but too frightened to unleash Lath's wrath if he had blatantly lied.

“We can get it all back in a couple of weeks, a month at the most. We just need to get in touch with the Company of Dreams."

"Saddle the horses that are still fresh and rally all [Knights] who think they can go on for another 48 hours and have the skills to do it."

Gazius was sure Lady Goldith would soon break her teeth, gritting them with such strength. Especially after hearing what he was about to say.

“My lady, the horses in the stables have been fed the special food that is given to them after great battles, so that their stamina could be recovered in the event of a counterattack. However, they all seem to have…” The second [Administrator]'s voice trailed off.

Lady Goldith was gripping her hands so tightly that the gauntlets of her armour were literally giving off sparks.

"What? Gazius, open your mouth and say what you have to say!"

“My lady, the horses have been poisoned and they all have diarrhoea. They keep whinnying in pain and it looks like they will recover in a couple of days, according to the [Grooms]. But all the steeds capable of enduring long distances have been knocked out."

"Saddle my horse then,'' ordered Lady Goldith, ready to give herself chase to the bastard that had fled from her grasp.

"Your... hem... your horse has disappeared, milady."

Gazius was slowly taking cover behind Lath, to avoid being executed on the spot. Yes, of course, he was not the architect of that fiasco, but as the old [General Administrator] it was also his job to keep an eye on Cyrus. Unfortunately, he had really underestimated him.

Lady Goldith watched Lath step forward and wondered for a moment if she should not punish them both, her dear genius [General] and her previous [General Administrator]. Someone who had barely started levelling up a month ago had made fools of them both.

In that moment of apparent calm, it seemed absolutely normal to Lath - for some strange reason - to point out: "So, he stole your horse too, among other things."

Lady Goldith took a deep breath to avoid destroying her palace. Anger wouldn't help her get back what was stolen from her, but a good plan to quickly capture Cyrus would.

Vissart's regent reflected: she had had her steed brought back to the stables only about a couple of hours earlier. Which meant that Cyrus couldn't be too far away. After all, running away when the Curtain had not yet lifted would have been the worst idea the [Administrator] had in a month, if not in his entire life.

It was time to take action and try to figure out where the bastard had gone. Lady Goldith would personally whip him before tying him to her bed indefinitely.

"Lath. Bring me your brother and Giovanna, the Earthling [Seamstress]. Gazius, you have regained your old post: congratulations. If production and revenue were to drop even by a few percent, prepare to be hanged in the square, understood?"

"Y-yes, milady."

Lady Goldith was already missing the arrogance of her previous [Administrator].

…

"So you think he got some supplies from your restaurant?!"

"Yes. Some food is gone. I thought he was using it for the other Earthlings and never scolded him,” Menaver replied to Lady Goldith's incredulous question.

The [Chef] was not at all happy to have been summoned to the Rodinia castle, nor to be in front of the most unreasonable Lady that family had ever given birth to. He hoped the Earthling standing next to him was lucky enough to escape Goldith's unreasonable wrath.

"And you have decided not to warn anyone?" were his lady’s cold words.

Lady Goldith sat in the castle audience room, where she welcomed people who had disputes to resolve, or her rare guests. Her throne was bare and devoid of any decoration.

“Cyrus brought hundreds of people to my restaurant and the whole city benefited equally. He never bored me with your endless speeches on military leadership. So, no, I consider those supplies a gift from me to him. I don't think presents are forbidden by Vissart's law, am I right?"

"Menaver," Lath grimaced at him, pleading. She knew her brother's temper all too well. "Do you at least have any idea where Cyrus may have gone?"

Unfortunately for Cyrus, Menaver was really smart. When he had noticed the amount of missing supplies, he had thought to ask the Earthlings if he had ever given them any. He hadn't done this so as not to be forced to lie to Lady Goldith - not that he could, even if he wanted to.

He remained silent.

"Your brother seems interested in ignoring my questions and committing high treason."

Menaver did not look at the Earthling beside him, but said a silent prayer to his ancestor Filaer, the strategist who had defeated dragons and hydras. With any luck, he too would have faced the monster in front of him victoriously.

"Menaver", this time Lath's grimace was of pain.

“Goldith, Lath. I'm not interested in your political and power games. The guy changed Vissart for the better. Now he has escaped from this asylum with a couple of artifacts? Good for him! I imagine that the value of his work has covered all possible losses several times over."

Lady Goldith rose from her seat and raised sharp eyebrows to accompany a creepy smile.

"Oh yes. Of course he covered those expenses. You see, Menaver, the problem is not the artifacts that he took. But the fact that he stole the map that marks the place where a relic of our ancestors is hidden. A map that had not yet been deciphered and which is now in his hands. Ah, right, it's a magical map, so obviously it couldn't be copied. I think you had already guessed this detail, however, right?"

Menaver would have been surprised if he hadn’t seen Cyrus do a somersault in his kitchen. If he wasn’t an [Assassin] nor any of the many more political classes like [Infiltrator], there was only one option left: Cyrus was a [Thief].

“Our ancestors decreed that those relics should pass into the hands of those who deserve them, Goldith, not those who inherit them. Am I wrong?"

Menaver heard Lath inhale loudly.

“What did you say?” Goldith said those words with an unexpectedly calm voice. But her aura poured over the [Chef] and tried to push him to the ground. It was as if gravity had increased fivefold.

“That the relics belong to those who deserve them, Goldith. And tell me something, do you have any idea which hero the relic we're talking about belonged to?"

The [Chef] had an idea and begged all of his ancestors - and the other ancient Heroes too, for what it might have helped - that he was right. He had had a particular intuition, just like a [General] who decides to change plans at the last minute following his instinct.

"Koicer."

Lath had answered.

"Ah!" the man let out a loud laugh. “Then Cyrus was even more Vanedeni than you, Goldith! Koicer was a [Smuggler]. If Cyrus, besides being a [General Administrator], is a [Thief], as we all suspect here, then our dear ancestor should be much happier if he is the one who finds the relic, and not a Rodinia. Or do you forget, perhaps, that the Rodinias threw him in prison for two years before he escaped and invented duffer bags and flying ships? May Koicer help me if I will ever allow his legacy to end up in the hands of someone in your family, Goldith."

Menaver had a big smile on his face and was stroking his thick beard, ignoring the glare of the lady in front of him.

"May I go, now?" asked the cook.

"Menaver, if you think you can address—" Lady Goldith was one step away from frothing at the mouth.

"No, Goldith," the man interrupted her - an action that few dared to do. “I don't know if power has already begun to go to your head, but as a Vanedeni, there is nothing wrong with what Cyrus did. Or, even if there were, you would have no right to disturb me during your investigation.

I may not be Princess Valarith, but let me be clear. I barely tolerate the laws you want to force on your subjects, who now seem to be part of your little sect of fools. Give me one reason - just one, I swear on Filaer's blood and all our lineage - to make me believe you are the new Mauser of our era and I will personally stick a sword down your throat and my sister's too, is that clear? You have no right to treat citizens like this."

Menaver was taking a huge risk. Talking about the Necromancer King was blasphemy, comparing him to another Vanedeni was more than enough reason to start a civil war.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Still, he felt like he was moving strings in the air, as if he were playing an invisible harp. He could see the emotions on Goldith's and Lath's faces change in slow motion and could modulate his reactions to accommodate them.

Luckily, he seemed to have hit the right strings, without breaking any. As much as he hated him, the blood of the greatest strategist among the Vanedenis ran thick in his veins. He hoped his ancestor would not be offended to hear his name uttered by a mere [Chef].

Menaver turned his back and, before Lady Goldith could pour out his anger on the other spectator, he took Giovanna by her arm, almost dragging her out with him. As proud as he was as a Vanedeni and with all the bravado he and his compatriots liked to show, if he stayed a second longer in that room he would have risked staining his pants both front and back.

Menaver expected to be pierced by Lady Goldith's sword at any moment, and he imagined Lath scattering his ashes into the Border in secret, unless Lady Goldith had decided to feed his body to the pigs.

Instead, nothing happened.

"Better not show your face around for some weeks," he whispered to Giovanna. She nodded.

[Chef level 37!]

[Skill obtained - A Strategist for Clients]

He heard a great ruckus behind him. The attendants had invaded the audience room, repeating the Lady of Vissart's name all too often.

"Milady! Come and watch the sky!"

Lady Goldith was pushed by her servants out on one of the terraces of her immense palace. In the clear and serene sky, no longer obscured by the grey haze of the Curtain, were flashing almost incomprehensible words.

She read carefully, narrowing her eyes.

“What does all this mean? Where is this village?"

“We can't say for sure, our [Scouts] are all out of the game,” replied a servant. He kept his head bent so as not to meet his Lady's gaze. "But the arrows accompanying the message seem to point south."

Lady Goldith thought silently for a few seconds.

“Before we venture to search for this place, we need to decode the obscure parts of this message. It could be a call. Or a trap."

Lath nodded, strangely serious, and Gazius followed suit.

"Milady, milady!"

A voice from below attracted the attention of the young woman, who lowered her gaze. A servant was running across the entrance road to the palace.

"Milady, news from the north!"

Goldith and Lath exchanged a knowing glance.

The north, the territory beyond the Border, belonged to the Ahalis. The women both feared that the dirty beasts of the north had decided to attack Vissart by taking advantage of the calm that follows a short but intense battle.

The young servant came to the terrace panting, bent down with his hands on his knees, and took a deep breath. But he sensed that this pause was testing Lady Goldith's patience.

"The Ahalis ... the Ahalis in the north are ... dying in droves!"

"What?!"

The boy nodded vigorously.

"As soon as the Curtain ... fell, many informants returned to report that in the ... southernmost part of the Ahali territory, across the border, a bloody battle is taking place."

An incredulous silence enveloped the terrace.

“Do you know who is responsible for this battle? Its reason?" Lath intervened.

The servant laboriously gestured in denial.

"Good," was Lady Goldith's only reply. “Now all go away and leave me alone with the [General]." When the servants’ footsteps went away and the two childhood friends were finally alone, Goldith let out a sadistic smile.

“The one that has just finished was a month of rest. The time has come to get back to work at full capacity."

…

Cyrus looked at the map of Kome under his eyes. Vissart was located precisely in the centre of the continent, just above the Border, the great cut in the land that divided the northern and southern part. Furthermore, it was equidistant from the east and west coasts.

He was completely free, now. He just had to decide where to go.

However, the territory to the west was full of settlements of both Vanedenis and Ahalis. On the contrary, the east was almost empty. It was one of the least prosperous areas of the continent, but it had characteristics that could have been easily exploited.

Whatever route he chose, the only thing Cyrus didn't care about was his food supply. He had amassed an incredible amount of food for the journey, so much so that it would last for two months without any problems, maybe even three, if it hadn't gone bad.

But Lady Goldith’s spies didn’t know that. For a fleeing man without enough supplies, it would have been logical to go towards the villages in the south, where it was easy to find everything he might need. But Cyrus suspected Lady Goldith would send [Explorers] in any direction. Maybe even north of the Border. In fact, he had considered seeking refuge among the Ahalis, but it hadn't seemed too clever a solution.

Two of Cyrus's qualities were coldness and patience. Again, he would use them to his advantage.

"Cyrus! My bum hurts!"

After all, to manage hundreds of millions of dollars belonging to others (and to save his own skin) he had always needed a certain calm and certainty, a certain savoir faire. And then also—

"Cyrus! Cyrus! Cyrus!"

“Holy shit, Vanessa, if they catch us they'll skin me alive. And they'll kill you without even thinking. This horse can run for a couple of days without needing rest. Therefore, we use all the time we have. Then we will rest when between us and the people who want to tie us upside down there will be several hundred kilometres, what do you think?"

Obviously, Vanessa had a lot to say about it.

"But I have to go to the loo!"

Cyrus considered a moral dilemma.

Would throwing Vanessa off the horse be morally reprehensible? Or perhaps it would have remarked on his firm beliefs in the equality of all people? If he truly considered Vanessa to be equal to everyone else, throwing her off the horse would be right. After all, it would have been the end of any other person who complained in the same way.

Of course, thought Cyrus, there was also to consider that he was judging Vanessa negatively for behaving like a disabled person would normally behave. So maybe there was some discrimination in his thoughts.

In doubt, he decided he would keep her on the horse.

"I miss Rosa!"

“Eh, Vanny, I miss Marie too. These women are a mess, aren't they?" Cyrus tried to make conversation. He hoped that this way the girl would stop complaining.

"No! Women are better than men, Cyrus!" Vanessa screamed in his ear.

She was sitting behind him. She had said she couldn't ride, so it had been impossible to get another horse. Which, in any case, would never be as fast and strong as the horse that Cyrus had stolen under Lady Goldith's nose. The Lady's stallion was Vissart's finest mount. If a normal horse could barely cover twenty kilometres an hour, magic steroids and who knows what else had made that horse capable of going over forty kilometres per hour. Or at least, these were Cyrus's estimates.

Leaving Vanessa in Vissart was not an option. The Vanedenis would have beaten her up and brutally killed her.

Luckily, the horse carried them both without effort. Cyrus had convinced the beast to follow him with alchemical herbs that were worth a fortune and which the filthy rogue had gobbled down nonchalantly.

"And who says women are better?" sighed Cyrus.

"Rosa says it," was her obvious answer.

They rode at breakneck speed for more than a couple of hours, during which Vanessa continuously sang the praises of her beloved, beautiful, very sweet, enterprising, perfumed Rosa. Her girlfriend.

Cyrus put up with the whole thing and only managed to silence her when the horse took a more moderate gait. He opened the magic map and looked thoughtfully at the sky again. There were huge luminous arrows pointing towards the southernmost part of the continent.

“Cyrus, do you think we can find Rosa? If we don't find her, Rosa will marry someone else!"

Cyrus inhaled deeply, thinking of the lashes he would receive if they were caught and brought back to Lady Goldith. Oh, he didn't even want to imagine what would happen once that woman got her hands on him again.

"If she's on Kome, we'll find her, don't worry."

Vanessa tried to nod with conviction. Still, even though he couldn't see her face, he knew there was still some doubt in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" Vanessa asked.

"Hundred percent. If Rosa is on Kome, we'll find her and organize a beautiful wedding”, Cyrus said to appease her.

"But I want to get married in Hawaii!"

Was it so evil to hope that the more moderate canter would make Vanessa bite her tongue? With the excuse of saving on the potions they had, he might even have avoided healing her for a few days...

“Vanny, listen, tell me your level, your class and all the skills you have. We need to understand how you can get stronger if we want to get there, to your and Rosa's wedding, I mean.”

With those words, he hoped to make Vanessa determined and concentrated. Apparently, the girl was not spurred on as he was by the fear of being brought back to Vissart by force and being severely punished.

"I'm a [Shaman]!"

Cyrus shivered at the scream. It was amazing how high her voice could be. For some reason he had always imagined that people with Down syndrome had deeper voices.

"Level 22!"

Vanessa had been the recipient of a rather rare phenomenon: when someone possessed several classes, it was possible they would combine to form a single class more powerful than the sum of the previous ones.

In Vanessa's case, until the day before her classes had been [Mage], [Scholar] and [Bookworm], and those had unified into the one class of [Shaman].

Cyrus, from his own experience, had also learned that classes could be lost, along with their levels. The more he levelled up as [Thief], the more he lost levels as [General Administrator]. It was as if a part of the system recognized his true inclination, the paradigm shift in his mentality.

“Cyrus, the skills are too many! I'm not telling you!" Vanessa said, still sulking from the conversation about Rosa.

Something told him that the girl was much less naive than the other Earthlings had thought. That she already knew her destiny, and Rosa's too, and had realised that the chances that her girlfriend was in that world were very low.

If Cyrus had been less tactful, he would have made a joke telling her that there were many women in the world. Indeed, of more species than on Earth. Still, if he did, Vanessa would not only start crying, but scream at him as well.

He was sure of it because he would do the same if someone had addressed him in those terms when his relationship with Marie had ended.

"Cyrus!"

San Gennaro, I have neglected you a lot. But, if you are there, please, grant me patience.

The prayer didn't seem to have any effect.

“Cyrus! Cyrus! Cyrus!”

She also began to yank his clothes.

“Yes,” he replied, exasperated by the endless repetition of his name. When he was with Vanessa he wished he had a more complicated and much longer name, to make her life at least a little more difficult.

"Why are we escaping from Vissart?" was her innocent question.

"What?"

“The warehouse wasn't bad. I mean, I'm happy because now we can go find Rosa, since you told me she wasn't among the names on your list, so she wasn't in Vissart. But why did you decide to flee?"

Cyrus extended his back upward, corrugating his dark and thick eyebrows.

Hadn't he told her why they were leaving?

Cyrus began to think quickly about the words he had had with the girl, when he had told her that they had to get away from Vissart for the sake of both of them.

"Good question," the man replied after realizing he hadn't really given her a great explanation.

What if he was the more autistic of them?

“I don't like Vissart. It's a place where people only think about money and weapons. It reminded me of my old job. Since I was very good at my old job, which was basically making money from other money, I started doing the same in Vissart. Then I realized that in my old life I was unhappy because of my job. So, I thought it was time to go away."

"I do not believe it!" was Vanessa's prompt reply.

"But how can you not believe—"

“I don't believe you were good at making money! You don't even know how to talk to Giovanna. Rosa always told me that those who cannot talk to people are not good at making money”, Vanessa's logic was unparalleled.

“My job, Vanny, was to invest money in companies. When they made more money, I made more money too."

"A broker," was Vanessa's response.

"Exactly!" Cyrus realized that he often tried to oversimplify his words with the girl. She wasn't retar— well, she was, but she wasn't stupid.

“I don't believe you were a broker! They're only in movies on television!"

"Oh well, anyway, I didn't feel like doing that job because it's a job for those who only think about money."

“Mmmmmm.”

A resounding noise of doubt rose from behind Cyrus's shoulder.

…

Sleeping in a tent with Vanessa hadn’t been funny at all. Cyrus had proposed sleeping in two separate tents, but the girl was quite frightened by the possible presence of wild animals. And she was right: the risk in Kome was certainly not of encountering just some wild boar or some lonely bear. There were dangerous and deadly creatures that lived off the abundance of mana and resources on the continent.

The biggest problem was creatures that looked like hyenas, but with scales and horns. The cursed beasts were called uains. They moved in small groups, never larger than a dozen animals. They did not like to hunt in bigger packs, although a large group always proved useful for hunting Kome's more elusive fauna.

Cyrus wondered, sincerely, why he had not heard more of these creatures during his stay in Vissart. He had noticed that these wild animals were beginning to be a problem only in the more populated areas.

The real beasts at the top of the food chain on Kome were the Vanedenis, and no one dared to invade their territory. Or rather, none except the Ahalis, of course.

Cyrus thanked San Gennaro every day for having brought Lady Goldith's stallion with him. He was not a simple horse, but possessed an extraordinary intelligence. After a few days with him, he wondered why he had let him kidnap him so easily. But the important thing was that the horse had trampled and eaten several dozen uains. And when it helped, he would run at the speed of light away from the Vanedeni camps.

He thought of what attention Lady Goldith must have put into his care and all the risks the poor beast - certainly not the first in his family to fight for Lady Goldith - had taken. He wore no armour, but his fur was impervious to the uains' teeth.

"Cookie is hungry, Cyrus."

For the record, Cookie was the name Vanessa had given the horse.

The girl and the animal had made a sort of alliance during their month of travel. She had an incredible aptitude for finding rare herbs and ingredients, part of the esotericism of her class. Vanessa worked with ingredients whose names at times she didn't even know, but that gave her a feeling.

Cyrus was in a forest so green it seemed fake. The trees did not have very thick trunks and were widely spaced. He had seen such panoramas only in a few remote places in the United States, or in TV series.

For some reason, they were always a bad omen for the protagonists. The calmer and more beautiful the place, the worse the fate of those who walked through its paths.

"An herb, an herb!"

Vanessa and her herbomancy continued to give him nightmares. Yet, by now his traces would have been impossible to intercept. Cyrus and the girl were in a remote region almost four thousand kilometres from Vissart.

Cookie bent down to let her dismount easily, a courtesy that had never been extended to him.

Cyrus looked around towards the forest, beginning to regret not having brought with him a bestiary of Kome. For all the preparations he had made, he hadn't thought about how useful it would be to better study the creatures living in the area.

He also got off the horse, leaving him free to graze or do whatever he pleased. He was a very pedantic horse and needed his own space; he reminded him exactly of some of his past relationships.

He approached Vanessa, who was touching moss at the base of a tree. To be more precise, she was digging in front of the tree and pulling moss out of the hole.

There were skills, the young woman had explained, such as [Communion with Nature] that allowed her to come into contact with plants. This very connection was the cause of her discomfort every time she needed to cut a branch or the stem of a flower to create her magical concoctions.

"This can be eaten," Vanessa said, sticking her tongue out in a comical expression of concentration.

Cyrus smiled.

He had been on week-long vacations in tropical paradises with colleagues whom he wanted to hang from the first tree after just three days. After nearly two and a half months with Vanessa, they had found the right balance. They chatted from time to time and then remained silent, each with their own thoughts.

In these moments, Cyrus loved to stretch his legs and jog around, without ever losing sight of the horse and the girl. Then he tried to practice his acrobatic skills, which were improving day by day.

In the past, Cyrus had been a gymnast. He had performed in those famous super-tight leotards that left little or nothing to imagination, and had been one step away from participating in the Olympics.

Remembering that phase of his life made him extremely uncomfortable, but he was grateful for having been transported to this new world with a 20-year-old body and the same flexibility he had had in the past.

After a few exercises and after seeing, not without a note of disgust, Vanessa eating the greyish moss she had pulled out of the ground, the [Thief] consulted the map.

The two fugitives had gathered roots, nuts, eaten rabbits and tried to ration their provisions. However, if they wanted to continue to eat comfortably, they would have to find supplies as soon as possible.

…

Cyrus observed the dark lines on his arms, much more elaborate than those Vanessa had applied to him for the first time almost three months before.

[Temporary Ability - Shadow Disguise]

The skill hada better, more powerful version than before. Used together with [Feather Step], his [Thief] skill, and [Ethereal Presence], Cyrus could pass within half a meter of someone and not be noticed.

The latest robbery in Vissart had earned him two new skills and a few more levels. The map stolen from Lady Goldith seemed to be worth a fortune.

Sadly, in the middle of the wilderness he hadn’t had many occasions to train the skills he had recently obtained.

But now it was time to catch up.

Cyrus had seen smoke beyond the thick canopy of trees, in several points close together. He had had an intuition and, as he approached the grey columns rising towards the sky, it had become real. It was a town.

How lucky!

They had practically run out of all the supplies provided to them by Menaver's kind pantry and, to feed themselves, had also been forced to kill, cook and eat a couple of uains. That had given Cyrus another level and a lot of practice in skinning and cutting those cursed beasts.

But a wild lifestyle did not suit Cyrus at all. The diet of game and plants found by Vanessa and the company of the goddamn horse were starting to give him a metaphorical skin rash.

He couldn’t wait to have meat that didn't need to be chewed for minutes in order not to choke on it.

Cyrus stopped the horse and jumped down from the saddle.

"You and Cookie stay here," he ordered before Vanessa could think of following him. "I'll be back soon."

Exploration needed time, calm and - above all - silence. Besides, even a little distance from Vanessa wouldn't hurt the [Thief].

He activated his skills and entered the alleys of the village.

The streets were not paved, but neither were they reduced to mud by traffic, a sign of a not too busy town. The houses weren't too bad, but several bore signs of battle.

The battle between Ahalis and Vanedenis must have gone on for many days, or even weeks.

In the outskirts of the village there was no one and so it was difficult to understand which army had won.

Finally some footsteps came close and Cyrus hid behind a wall that lined the road. "Wall" perhaps was a too kind word for the pile of stones thrown one on top of the other, but this was not the time to reflect on lexicon.

“We have to go there! Frank, we can't go on like this!" Cyrus heard a woman's voice, full of worry. “We have no more supplies, everyone else is now depressed. The other day I found Jack who was about to hang himself! We have to go and see if this village really exists. The messages appear every day at the same time in the morning and mention things that only an Earthling could know!"

Those were humans - no, Earthlings. Earthlings just like him.

The [Thief] did not understand what messages she was referring to. Surely he would remember if, outside Vissart's confines, he had seen something that reminded him of the world he came from.

“No, Alice, we're not going anywhere. We are too weak. If it's a trap, we'll all die."

Cyrus felt an incredible stench of sulphur coming from the man and tried not to sneeze.

The two were illuminated by a globe of flames in mid-air.

Great, there's an arsonist.

The girl called Alice was blonde and had very pale eyes, with a large nose and teeth that were not quite straight. Yet, along with her dark brows, they created an interesting mix, Cyrus thought.

The other, Frank, had his face covered for the most part by a hood. The only thing that could be seen was a full beard, from which came muffled words, almost hissing.

“And if we continue like this we all end up underground before some phantom enemy appears! Frank, we won! The Curtain has fallen and God is now giving us a second chance. Have a little faith!"

Cyrus took a deep breath.

An arsonist and a fanatic, even better.

The [Thief] decided to walk away from the two and slip into what appeared to be a food warehouse. After a battle, they must have thought that rationing what was left was a good idea.

And, in fact, Cyrus's reasoning was confirmed by the presence of a Vanedeni guard in front of the warehouse entrance. Not that this was a problem for him.

Cyrus slipped close to him and, as soon as the man turned his gaze ...

[Deft Hands]

[Acrobatics]

[Thief Subtlety]

Cyrus opened the door and ran into the warehouse, without the guard noticing anything.

It was clearly a converted stone house.

It’s cold.

Kome's temperate climate was around twenty degrees, perfect for feeling good at any time of day. It was like a perennial spring, regardless of the time of day or month on the calendar.

He rummaged through the meagre provisions before grimacing. These people didn't have much. If more than a hundred people remained inside the village, they would not have survived more than a month.

The distance to the nearest village on his map would take several weeks on foot. If they hadn't set out soon, they wouldn't have made it.

Cyrus came out from the warehouse and started moving stealthily along the walls.

The [Pyromancer] he had seen before suddenly appeared in the street. The thief found a good place to hide under a porch. He hoped the man would turn into an alley, and he took a moment to think.

One of his greatest qualities was making decisions quickly and without thinking twice. Those who remained fixed in their market, without diversifying, died after a few months.

However, the solution to his problems and those of the village was something he would have preferred not to decide too lightly. He scratched his hair, which was getting too long for his taste. When he had been older he had been used to professional, clean haircuts - but now he looked more like a college student.

Vanessa had proposed to be his [Barber], but having seen how the girl had begun to braid her hair using the teeth of the dead uains as beads… He would have waited to meet someone who owned a pair of scissors, not a too sharp dagger.

The [Pyromancer] was getting closer and closer, but he seemed about to change direction.

He turned his back to Cyrus, and in that exact moment the thief involuntarily sighed a little more loudly than he would have liked. But even that wasn't a problem. He drew his dagger and stood still.

Lady Goldith had taught him a new kind of coldness, the cruel one of necessity. A week after his arrival, the Lady had executed a man who had committed murder.

But the real death, the young regent had told Cyrus after having put the hilt of a short sword in his right hand, is the one that runs over your hands after cutting someone's throat.

So, encouraged by Goldith, the [Administrator] hit the criminal right in the chest. Then, the body was thrown into the Border, according to Vissart's laws, so that it might be a warning for everybody.

Contrary to what he had ever imagined, being responsible for someone's death hadn’t shocked Cyrus at all. What had impressed him the most was the calm he had felt when he had hit the man, without the slightest hesitation. He hadn’t given him a second chance, just like he had never given one to anybody when he was on Earth.

A decision must always be made. This was what Cyrus was thinking. Immobility always leads to defeat.

Killing someone wasn't all that different from being a broker in Wall Street.

…

Cyrus cleaned the dagger thoroughly before sheathing it.

He inspected his duffer bag full of provisions and felt a latent doubt lurking in the farthest part of his mind.

"Better this way," he sighed as he walked back to the clearing where he had left Vanessa and the beast, Cookie.

If he hadn't had remorse or doubts, he wouldn't have been human. Having second thoughts was normal, but that didn't mean he shouldn't take risks.

All in all, he had also done a good deed. Now, that woman, Alice, had one more reason to reach the village inhabited by the Earthlings. And he had stolen from the [Pyromancer] some kind of magical staff, a nice artifact.

He was now near the place where he had left Vanessa when, looking up, he saw something strange appear in the sky. It looked like one of those banners sometimes seen on beaches, attached to helicopters or small planes and bearing a message of love. However, there was no helicopter, and the letters flashed like neon lights in contrast to the light blue of the sky.

BOLLOCKS, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING TO BUY THE BEST PRODUCTS IN THE CONTINENT FROM THE ONLY CITY THAT TRADES WITH AHALIS AND VANEDENIS? BLUE CHEESE AND BACON MADE FROM THE BEST PIGS. FRY-UPS, PIES AND FISH AND CHIPS TAKE-AWAY. FOLLOW THE ARROWS.

"Ahahahah!" The [Thief] laughed heartily as he read those words. That's what Alice was referring to. Maybe, maybe ... it was worth going to investigate this city, before saying goodbye to Kome and Lady Goldith's sadomasochistic aims.

“Vanessa, let's go. I found some food, it should be enough for us until our next destination”, he said as he approached the horse, ready to climb on the saddle.

It was then that he noticed the red and yellow lines on the animal, which looked like he had just come out of a hooligan rally.

"Cyrus! Now Cookie can run very very fast!" said Vanessa, who had tried to paint the horse several times without success. Size seemed to heavily affect the success of her spells. Which made sense when you thought about how a dragon would benefit from even a small bonus.

"Let's hope he doesn't break a leg," he grumbled.

Cookie, hearing those words, looked at him defiantly. Cyrus had the feeling that the horse was saying: Let's hope you don't break your leg.

…

Cyrus felt the cold sweat slide down his back and didn't know how to react. Not only there were both Ahalis and Vanedenis within that city, but it was also full of undead. Skeletons upon skeletons carrying tree trunks, bricks, wheelbarrows and so on and so forth.

After seeing skeletons running on a kind of large belt attached to a cement mixer, Cyrus had worn all the artifacts he had to prevent a possible mental attack.

But it hadn't been a hallucination.

Let's repeat it. There were SKELETONS running on a TREADMILL connected to a CEMENT MIXER.

Well, what did he expect from the city over which hovered several giant, multi-coloured arrows, showing its location from miles and miles away? The same city that had advertised itself with improbable writings painted in the sky.

"Todd! Todd!" a woman yelled. Her voice was too close to Cyrus, but his skills would protect him. "It's dinner time."

In the dusky light, the [Thief] couldn’t quite see their faces. The woman pushed the man, almost throwing him on the ground. If he was not mistaken, she also had lipstick on her lips. Not the kind of pigment he'd sometimes seen on Lady Goldith's lips in Vissart, but a bold colour, exactly like those sold on Earth.

"Shall we go eat fish and chips?"

The other man was very thin, but his eyes sent a shiver down Cyrus's spine.

"Ok, fine. But if we eat fish and chips tomorrow, too, I swear I could kill Maximilian."

He glanced right where Vissart's former [Administrator] was hiding. Then he turned, moving a large cloak behind him.

He can't have seen me! I am using all my skills.