Maximilian was seated between Themistocles and Mibunum.

They were in a tent, the closest thing to a house that the Londoner had managed to create in a matter of hours. There were no houses left: in fact, they had all been razed to the ground by the [Necromancer].

Neither [Commanders] seemed to be pleased with having their hands and feet in shackles.

"Maximilian, a whole day has passed since the beginning of this ridiculous negotiation." Themistocles was at the limit of his patience.

Mibunum was getting nervous too, trying to mumble something through his gag.

“Oi, Mibunum, I'll take off the gag, bollocks. But remember why I put it on; this time, if you refuse to cooperate, it will not be a handkerchief between your teeth. First I'll cut your balls off, then I'll kill you and I'll choose the dumbest of your apes to represent your city. I'll take your balls and play paddle with them, or I sell them as Ikea meatballs. So, if you care about the future of the people you have fought with, I would advise you not to be rude."

The gag came off without anyone touching it.

Mibunum looked at Maximilian with less fury than the day before. The necromancer had decided to calm them down with exhaustion: he had kept them bound for twenty-four hours and had denied them sleep. Something only a damn dragon would do.

"Humans ..." there was a kind of low growl from Mibunum, but he didn't go any further. The warrior in charge of the Ahalis was not a fool. He had seen what the [Necromancer] was capable of and was sure that even a real [Dragonslayer] would have a hard time against him.

"Oi, yes, Mibunum, humans, people, creatures. You are a little hairier, but considering humans come from apes, our ancestry is not so different. You just look more like our common ancestors."

Mibunum wanted to go back to the training camp at the academy, do one of his training routines and scold some recruits; it was one of the pastimes that most relaxed him. Instead he was here. In front of the only person capable of exasperating him so much that he forgot that his goal should have been to raze the village to the ground and slaughter all humans.

"So, since I won the war and you, both of you, no longer have a home, can we all agree on something and live together happily ever after?"

Themistocles and Mibunum were about to say something, when Maximilian first got up from the ground, where the two [Commanders] were bound, then he bent towards them.

“Well, good manners work with those who know how to listen. So, before you give me an answer, I promise you that I can continue this game until everyone is dead, on both sides. Themistocles, don't think I wouldn't put your little head on a pike just because you're my best friend.”

“Listen, arseholes”, Maximilian continued, “I don't care if you want to keep being offended for eternity. You can hate each other, at first, even yell a little. But my first royal decree will be to make you live together without violence. Physical violence, at least. Verbal violence doesn't count; after all, we are not in California. So, you can nod and stop protesting and MAYBE I will release you, like those who have already accepted my terms, or refuse and be both burned on a pyre - or put on a pike, Dracula-style, understood?"

Themistocles and Mibunum exchanged the first glance that wasn't only hatred.

Mibunum had grown up hating with every fibre of his being the Vanedenis and anyone who fought at their service. History had taught him that his enemies were neither trustworthy nor magnanimous; many centuries ago, when the Ahalis had tried to escape the control of the dragons, the Vanedenis had revealed their plan to those horrible scaly creatures. Because of this, past generations had taught their children to hate the merciless warriors of Kome.

Themistocles, on the other hand, found it hard to accept that he had been defeated by Maximilian and that he had to ally himself with a monstrous being, who seemed a frightening mythical creature, and who until the day before had put his life in danger.

But wasn't that exactly what he had done with the Persians?

History was repeating itself again.

Themistocles sighed. "Maximilian, I believe it is possible to reach an agreement."

"Human," Mibunum growled, but got no response. So he tried again: "Maximilian."

"Oh, we've finally found some manners!" exclaimed the [Necromancer].

"Maximilian. My people suffered centuries ago, because of the dragons. We Ahalis are very reluctant to accept a new tyrant to command us. We have already ploughed the fields of our masters and our women have warmed their beds."

The commander of the Ahalis was trying to remember the education he had received in the academy regarding diplomatic relations. Although the Ahalis had taken control of Kome, they did not have the same stability that the Vanedenis had achieved through their wars. The Ahalis lived in a very precarious political situation; all the world watched them, hoping for them to make an error, and was waiting for the right moment to snatch Kome from their hands.

Mibunum hoped his memory wasn't too cranky. The fate of the Ahalis in Seiunctus depended on his words.

"Tyrant? Look, punk, I'm not going to force anyone to work, bollocks. You are monkeys, yankees and people with a kink for war. In the fields I'll put my undeads, not you, idiot. I can replace all 'hard work' with skeletal labour. The industrial revolution - of the undead though."

"But the unhealthy energy they bring with ..."

"Shut the fuck up, Mibunum. Leave necromancy to necromancers. Guys, we've been here since yesterday morning. Now let's stop raising objections.

“As for your bitches, I come from a society where rape has been criminalized so much that even the accusation alone is enough to ruin the lives of men. It will be treated as a crime one step below murder. And, besides, I swear I'm not interested in any of your furry girls."

"Maximilian, do you realise all the problems that can arise from our coexi—"

"Bollocks, am I speaking ancient Greek? Decide: do you want to be free or cut up and put on pikes?"

Themistocles and Mibunum, after exchanging a resigned glance, just nodded.

…

Maximilian looked around, glancing at the Vanedenis, at the few remaining Earthlings and at the Ahalis, who did not really know what to do.

To avoid a great initial exodus, he had forbidden everyone to leave the city. Obviously, several people had already tried - and had already been whipped by the undead. The lashes, to tell the truth, had been very few compared to what they deserved.

Perhaps to really punish them he should have put them to work with the undead, but the skeletons had already rebuilt a considerable amount of temporary wooden houses.

Soon Maximilian would have to decide which architectural style the city would be, but for the moment the priority was to put a roof over the heads of those who had agreed to be a future citizen of the new Ankon.

Right, he also had to think about the name of the city. Or perhaps, rather than a city, he should have considered it an empire, a kingdom… a fief?

Maximilian had to resolve very important issues. And while it was number one on his personal list of priorities, the new name would have to wait.

Instead he could see Mibunum and Themistocles go and talk to the people who were still agitated; many still tried in vain to free themselves from the shackles.

"Bollocks, they never learn."

Now, the most stupid thing that Maximilian had done had been to annihilate the two villages. All houses had been destroyed, including everything inside. Except civilians, of course; they had been evacuated before proceeding with the destruction.

But there was also something positive: having made such an asshole move as his first royal edict - or whatever the most suitable name for this gesture was - meant that Maximilian was on a good (indeed, very good!) path to become a [ Necromancer] not competitive at all.

But doing so was pretty tiring.

Strith approached him, after returning from a recon ride with an undead horse he had gifted her.

The undead creature was made only of bones, but Maximilian had put on it some leather pieces and girdles that worked as a saddle. Horses, too, were something new for the Vanedenis in Ankon, but Strith seemed quite at ease on her mount, perhaps thanks to her [Hero] class.

"The Curtain has been lifted. Our victory is clear. In the distance I could see other Curtains still active, probably around villages that have not yet resolved their conflict."

Conflict. A very polite way to define the massacre that was affecting half of the continent. And our victory, but at what cost? The lives of many capable warriors, who would have been spared, if only they had not died because of the idiocy of Maximilian and of his stupid demons.

Now he had to patch up his mistakes.

"Go check that idiot, Matthew. If he kills himself, we're done for. You always need a Californian, it's part of the ecosystem. Like flies, they stink and eat shit, but they are useful." The girl nodded and rode away.

Maximilian ran his hand made of bone through his hair, scratching his scalp and sighing.

Matthew has been feeling horrible since Neri's death.

Meanwhile, Anna had surprised him. Camilla's death had not shaken her as he would have imagined. Seeing the beheaded body of her old friend, she had smiled.

Todd, on the other hand, was at ease. The battle had somewhat stimulated him and his acts had improved his reputation in the eyes of the Vanedenis. He sat on the ground, his red eyes following Valeria far and wide among the ruins of Ankon.

The young woman moved quickly, bringing water and food to those who were still chained and treated any sores caused by the shackles, or wounds that no one had yet taken care of.

All Earthlings had levelled up with frightening speed. And thanks to Valeria's skill, which allowed them to level up during battle, the Vanedenis had an incredible advantage.

Thinking back to the promise he had made to his wife, Maximilian realised how unimportant his thoughts were: the people around him deserved more than being considered a cluster of classes and levels. If there had been a massacre, it was largely his fault.

If Paola had been next to him, the same Paola he had accompanied on her deathbed during his first life, who knows what she would have said?

The man sighed again.

It was not easy to force himself not to achieve perfection at all costs.

How was he going to shape a new people, to give them new homes, new traditions, without being obsessed with details?

Well, giving up competitiveness and his obsessions was certainly a great start.

For example: he had forgotten to save many animals and some wheat fields. And obviously the civilians' personal belongings, kept inside the houses. Wasn't that a step towards the absence of perfection?

He got carried away. He was so anxious at the idea that he could finally be a relaxed person. Unfortunately, however, a considerable number of problems had arisen.

Eudokia hadn't said a word to him since the end of the battle. She was so frighteningly quiet that she could have been mistaken for a shadow. She was quite pissed at him for what he had done. He didn't blame her, to be honest.

But the woman wasn't going to help him now, and the issue of food was really a problem.

He had thought about it for a while and realised that he could use some unlikely techniques to extract wild wheat in a split second. Then, somehow, he had managed to generate tomatoes and mozzarella.

How he managed to create rennet and artificially grow tomatoes was not understood by any of those few humans who still spoke to him.

But these few ingredients would have been the key to the reconciliation between him and his new subjects.

…

It was night now, and several bonfires, lit by Maximilian's undead, were burning to illuminate the temporary camp around the tower, the only building left standing for miles.

Eudokia watched with curiosity the precise movements of the skeletons. They were decidedly less frightening than those that had appeared during the battle. They cut wood and kept the fires burning, while others began to prepare the ground for the construction work for the following day; the undead did not need light or rest, and if anyone had enough control over them, they would have been an amazing workforce.

Despite the care that the undead showed for the two rival peoples, Eudokia saw an innate terror in the Ahali families, who should have felt reassured, happy to be alive and to have been welcomed.

It had been centuries since she had meddled in the affairs of her fellow humans, but she knew very well the power dynamics of dragons. She knew just as well that the Ahalis had been created by her race to be faithful servants and mighty slaves, to realise gigantic buildings and infrastructure, to be whipped, mistreated and raped without ever rebelling. And they had created them by injecting the fear of a rabbit into the body of a huge monkey.

The Vanedenis, on the other hand, looked at those who had been their strongest enemies and wondered, not without a touch of hatred, how they should have thought of them from that moment on. They looked at them from the sly, suspicious, but no one dared insult them; the few who had tried it had been mercilessly whipped by the undead, who slavishly followed Maximilian's orders. Therefore, the only choice for them, in front of such a great power, was to wait for the moves of that madman.

Eudokia had to admit that something was not quite right, that she still had doubts. Still, she felt that she wanted to observe what would happen. Her innate curiosity led her to wait, to hope that there was more in that heap of flesh and bone obsessed with frying meat in oil and butter.

"Bollocks, it's time to eat, luv."

Maximilian materialized next to the woman, followed by a majestic procession of skeletons carrying huge wooden containers with them. This time, they were the same skeletons that the man from London had used to subdue everyone.

Maximilian opened a duffer bag at his side and in a matter of minutes he pulled out of it a huge stone building that looked like an oven. There was a flat surface inside and a space for wood in the back.

“Jàmme ja”, exclaimed the [Necromancer].

Eudokia didn't understand if it was a magic formula or one of his strange idioms.

It was then that, having finished assembling the oven, Maximilian opened one of the wooden containers and pulled out a mixture of flour and water, with some strange reagent that the woman could not identify.

“Oi, lads and lassies, it's time to eat. Move a little and let the skeletons arrange tables and benches."

The people, who were mostly sitting on the ground, made room for the undead led by their new tyrant, who began to assemble some kind of village fair.

Meanwhile, Maximilian began to use his telekinesis to handle the dough and, after some manipulation, flattened it into a round, large and very flat shape.

Eudokia did not understand what ideas the Londoner had, but she would never have given him the satisfaction of asking. So she kept looking.

It was hard to hate him, really. She had known people like him, who bore the marks of their past more in their minds than on their bodies. Precisely for this reason she knew she had to be compassionate with Maximilian and with his shortcomings.

Eudokia sat in mid-air, tired of standing. If that idiot hadn't destroyed any objects not inside his tower, she would have had something to sit on. Unfortunately, in the current state of things, one of Maximilian's first choices had been dragon-sized rubbish.

The [Necromancer] began to smear some pulped tomato on that disc of grain dough, and then put some cheese on it.

Eudokia was unable to restrain her curiosity: "Maximilian, what are you doing now?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"I'm a-making pizza, uagliò," said the man, with a different accent than usual.

"Uagliò?" Eudokia asked.

"Uagliona? Bollocks, how do I know how those Italians speak. This is one of the most famous dishes of Earth. Pizza. Together with fried stuff, the favourite food of the masses. Those American monkeys and French skunks like it too, so I guess our beasts here will appreciate it too."

Was his goal to unite old enemies with new food?

Observing with the corner of her eye Ahalis and Vanedenis divide into two very distinct groups even when they were choosing which tables to sit at, the woman thought that Maximilian would not have succeeded in his intent.

The Londoner realised the same thing, but did almost nothing to avoid it.

“Themistocles, you Mediterranean yankee, reserve a bench for me, you, Mibunum and Strith and have a couple of rabbit-monkeys chosen by the beast brought to our table. Let's fraternize, bollocks!"

It was then that Maximilian put the huge disc into the oven, nodding to himself. Experiment number 1 had been successful; now it was the turn of the next ones. One after the other, the huge discs of dough, larger than one meter in diameter, were put in the oven and cooked.

"Oi, look at this magical control."

Eudokia watched the oven temperature skyrocket under the human's fine control of mana. It seemed more suited to a forge now than to bake those discs.

Maximilian showed her she was wrong.

The pizzas began to come in and out of the oven with incredible speed, but still barely enough to feed more than a thousand people. With a quick count, the total number of survivors amounted to about a thousand.

…

Maximilian, contrary to what some might have thought, had been a doctor skilled in treating his patients. And not just because he was an excellent professional, but above all because he was very human. That after the wedding he had behaved like an idiot with Paola, an asshole to say the least, was another story. He had always managed to arouse sympathy in others, it was just that he could not create relationships, to understand the value of human bonds.

"Have you ever tried some pizza, miss?" asked the [Necromancer] offering a piece of pizza to Eudokia. “It's the only kind I've managed to make, the one with basic ingredients. I was an idiot to kill my beloved pigs as well. How will I make bacon now?"

Eudokia checked the pizza, touched it and smelled it, but she couldn't make up her mind to taste it.

“You have to get rid of their carcasses, otherwise we will soon be overrun with rot,” she said.

“Well, yes, after dinner I'll see what to do with them. Maybe I can recover some meat and put it in salt, and with the bones I could create other undead... There are a lot of things to do. So, aren't you eating it?"

The woman had placed her triangle of flour, cheese and tomato on the table.

“You know, in our world this type of pizza is called Margherita, in honour of a famous queen. I'll have to invent another one and name it after you."

Eudokia gave him a cold, sharp look. Maximilian felt a shiver down his spine and put a stupid smile on his face, not knowing what else to do.

You could be as old as the hills, but approaching a woman who had a problem with you remained a difficult and uncomfortable situation.

"Okay, it's not a royal enough meal, but it's just for a change, isn't it?"

"Change, like you did before the battle?"

Eudokia was not going to hide the dust under the carpet.

“No, bollocks, I don't want to justify myself for what I've done or say these people should trust me. But remember, my dear, without Ceres and Bacchus love is weak and feeble."

Eudokia's face did not flinch.

The laughter that Maximilian had hoped to elicit wasn't there.

“Ah, bollocks, Ceres and Bacchus are two gods of my world, so to speak, my ancestors have prayed them for centuries. The first is the goddess of crops, the second is the god of wine. I mean that there is not much we can do for relationships without good food to fill our stomachs and wine to warm our spirits."

“Next time, Maximilian, if that's what you need, take your wine and your pizza where people are about to die. Maybe, in that case you will not behave like a wyvern, running away from the death of your friends for purely selfish reasons."

Those around them had all their ears pricked up and Eudokia didn't seem willing to make the conversation private.

“Eudokia…”

“Yes, Maximilian? Do you want to tell me that your problems are more important than the lives of a few hundred people? You could have made this decision before you let two villages kill each other for nothing. Now, however, there are families without wives, without husbands. There are grandparents without grandchildren and family trees that have been cut down. Tell me, what do you think is the solution? Burn all the houses, possessions, food and animals to start everything from scratch? You did not lose anything, you did not have loved ones and your tower remained intact; but everyone else has lost something because you took it from them."

Maximilian was not stupid. He was many things - not cautious when he wasn't concentrating, lazier than he seemed, and perhaps even obnoxious when he woke up - but no one would dream of thinking he was a fool. And precisely because he was not a fool, he stopped thinking about the shame he felt for his behavior and tried to understand why Eudokia had decided to scold him just at that moment, during the most important dinner, the one that was supposed to reconcile them.

Then she understood.

Eudokia was giving him a chance.

“When I begin to think in terms of perfection, my brain ignores everything around me, whether human beings or objects, it ignores all relationships of affection and friendship and how much we matter to others. Look what a mess I made: I managed not to be perfect, and this is just a proof that what happened yesterday will never happen again."

“And what should that mean, Maximilian? You let all these people die, and now your justification is that no more people will die for my wickedness? It should be hoped that the one who has just declared himself ruler, or perhaps tyrant, of this village knows how to manage his emotions."

The Londoner thought for a moment. He could have overturned the accusation, proving that Eudokia had been no better than him: she had gotten tired of her people and had abandoned them to rest forever. However, this method would lead nowhere.

“Ceres, the goddess I told you about earlier, guaranteed men had good harvests and rewarded them with the fruits of the earth for their prayers. Then, one day, her daughter was kidnapped and she forgot about her believers. She did not fulfil her role for a long time. Crops were scarce and farmers were dying in droves. And yet..."

“Yet, you are not a divinity, Maximilian. What are you trying to prove?"

“And yet”, he continued, more serious than everyone was used to seeing him, “Ceres had a role, didn't she? Continue to ensure good harvests, so that the world does not die out because of her sadness."

“Do you think, then, that you have a divine mission towards these people? Or maybe you feel guilty, do you think you can remedy the crimes perpetrated by you by putting together this chimerical city?"

“No divine mission, Eudokia. I just saw that people kill each other here. And it's always better when people don't kill each other. Simple, right? And as for the crimes", the Londoner went on, "I'm pretty sure I haven't committed any."

There were screams in the crowd, but Eudokia silenced them with a stern look. Evidently, she intended to be the only prosecutor in this trial.

“I was wrong because I could have helped more, of course, I should have not caused harm to the Vanedenis and helped them when they needed it. However, I armed these people, I trained them. I have placed in the hands of the most aggressive people of this world all the weapons necessary to win. They lost with honour, making all their actions count. There is no dishonour in the deaths they have suffered. They were weak, in the end, it is true; but I have been too. The only way I had to rectify my mistake was to defeat the Ahalis and bring them to our side, avoiding further bloodshed. You can call me a tyrant, but I put some common sense into their heads; if I then have to whip them to make them understand it better, so be it."

A murmur spread among the Vanedenis, while the Ahalis remained strangely silent.

He admitted he was wrong. That he had been weak. But wasn't that what happened to the others too? And was avoiding killing each other really that weird? Some in the crowd were still thirsty for blood when they watched their enemies, but others did not feel the same ancestral hatred, which had grown too old and stale for them.

“And who are you to end the hatred and war of these people? Do you have a divine right that allows you to interfere with the history of these two peoples?"

"Dunno, bollocks. In reality, nobody forbids it. I just said they are now my citizens until I decide otherwise. And I can do it - because if someone does not respect the laws, not only do I immediately find out thanks to the magic I put on them, but I can skin them like a rabbit. If people want to die to keep killing each other like a bunch of idiots, they are welcome to try. I just said that if they are assholes, I will be an asshole too."

"So you admit you are a tyrant?" the woman pressed him.

“Oi, luv, if you want to call me Tyler, call me Tyler. But my name is Maximilian. If you want to call a tyrant someone who stops people from killing each other, who will put beautiful houses over their heads, then call him a tyrant. And wait, stop the fire-breathing for a moment, listen. Fields, forges, anything you want I can make it work with undead. People can do what they want here, except kill each other and escape. Why not escape? I already hear the question. Because you are idiots."

Maximilian turned to the crowd. Everyone was listening to him now.

“If in a few months you still don't like the life you have here, maybe I'll let you go. I repeat, maybe. Let's see how my cogwheels spin, okay? If you manage to escape, good for you. You can go and warn some other idiot who will want to defend your right to slaughter each other, even better! So we defeat him and increase the number of idiots who will avoid killing themselves. If I catch you, of course, I'll have you whipped. You don't know, but where I come from lived a punk named Cesare Beccaria - and they named a lot of stuff after him, incredible - who said that torture is useless. Well, I disagree with him, let's write On slaps and punches, instead of On crimes and punishments. That is, every time you fuck up I whip you, until you don't fuck up anymore. If it suits you, well, otherwise tell me and we will immediately implement the first law of the Clarke Constitution."

"Clarke?" Eudokia asked.

Maximilian looked at her, confused, for a moment. Of all the human rights violations he had just enunciated he had said nothing and was now questioning this trifle.

“Clarke, yes, Eudokia. It's my surname. Bollocks, you don't even know my name and you lecture me?"

"Clarke? Maximilian is a name that befits a ruler. Clarke ... doesn't that mean clerk?"

“Bollocks, sorry if we're talking about the future of about a thousand people. Can we continue or would you like to make some other inappropriate remarks? Then, listen to who is speaking ... the translation of your name into our language is a Greek word, which should have meant bore, considering the tirade you started."

In reality, Maximilian was happy that Eudokia had given him the opportunity to show his motives and intentions to the people in front of him.

Maximilian looked at those in front of him and thought of the warriors who had lost their lives on the battlefield.

Tukker, Neri, Andrew Capicchioni - what a shitty name - Lucas, Anthony, Camilla.

He took a deep breath and, while the pizzas continued to go in and out of the oven undisturbed, he began to walk among the tables. There was a half-empty one that would serve his purpose.

Eudokia watched him in silence.

The [Necromancer] stood up on the wooden planks of the table.

He felt a weight on his stomach, he felt guilty, he felt he had not been up to what he should have been.

From great powers...

Trivial but true. What was the point of being like him if not to help others and have some fun?

“When I was on Earth, the place I lived in before landing on this new continent, I was a doctor. A doctor, for the uninitiated, is a person who heals others, who takes wounds and heals them, who saves the lives of those around him."

Some Vanedenis still looked furious and were ready to scream at him, but with a quick movement of his hand, Maximilian blocked their mouths without needing a gag, with pure and simple magic.

He couldn't afford to handle interruptions.

“Every doctor, after having been trained, takes an oath that is about two thousand and five hundred years old. We doctors swear to protect others and never harm them. To a doctor, every life is sacred.

“Now, bollocks, here we are in a world that is a bit special. If I can avoid killing you all, I will gladly do it. I believe in the traditions and in the spirit of this oath. I am convinced that the principle behind it is important, so much so that it has been pronounced and put into practice for centuries."

Maximilian shrugged.

“At the same time, I don't think I'll refuse to kill you on the spot if you deserve it. If you kill someone, no trial, no jury, no law: I catch you and hang you, after having tortured you in front of everyone.

“And do you know why I'm going to do it? Because yours is a cruel world. And that's it."

Maximilian paused briefly, looking at the gazes of the Ahalis next to him and then of the Vanedenis, slightly further away. He had tried to get in the centre, but the table was slightly more towards the rabbit-monkeys area.

“Now, I wanted to be a doctor because I'm not an idiot. I've always had a bigger than average brain. For the uninitiated, the brain is that organ that makes you think and makes you intelligent. The less developed your brain, the less intelligent you are. It is a fairly linear equation.

“Here on Kome the people who can put me underground are very few, bollocks. Those who can put me underground and hope I stay there are even fewer. There is a good chance that I will become the greatest Hero in your history."

Maximilian knew that this speech would not be easy to accept, not after Leurer's death, not after he had made the flying ships crash. But now it was time to regain the Vanedenis' trust and the Ahalis' too.

He wasn't going to be a jerk anymore - at least not too much.

“Now, becoming a great fucking hero is not my biggest dream. But if I can do it and I don't have much else to do, why not? Let's prevent this conflict from lasting too much, perhaps. Or, let's start building a little civilization on our own. If someone attacks us, we incorporate them. If we want to be cruel, we do it; we rain on people's parades - to say the least - and if someone threatens your freedom ... Well, anyone other than me, anyway, then we take them and make broth with their bones."

Maximilian got off the table and walked around, looking one by one at the diners.

“Let me be clear, I'm not here to carry on your feuds. All the people you wanted to kill until now, you must forget them. The Vanedenis cannot kill the Ahalis and the other way round. It doesn't matter if you're mad at dragons because they're assholes. It doesn't matter if you are angry with the sirens or all the other continents of this world."

Maximilian looked intently at the Vanedenis after the last statement. The first protests arose.

"No, no. Hush, bollocks! I said it doesn't matter if you want to be angry at them. If they attack us. If dragons think they are superior because they have two horns and a pair of wings, we kill them, one by one. We make a nice dragon stew.”

“If your enemies want to humiliate you just without reason, we can skin them alive and throw them in a mix of salt water and acid water. We can decide the details together."

Ahali and Vanedenis seemed to somehow begin to be moved by his words.

Maximilian did not have a ruler class, at least not yet. He wasn't even interested in acquiring one. Perhaps, someone else would need to become [King] or [Queen], or even [Emperor] to begin developing some kind of aura that could inspire and guide.

Him?

Maximilian had lived long enough to be able to do what he liked best. If his life had been written in a novel, his story would have been quite boring from this point of view. What he needed was only time before he grew strong enough to become the greatest legend ever to exist in this world.

He smiled at the thought of taking the Harbingers and spanking them one by one. There were few things that bothered him so much as beings who fed on the faith of people and returned nothing but suffering. Theirs was nothing but magic on another level, nothing he himself couldn't achieve.

“You will be able to live free and your enemies will be slaughtered if they want to offend you. But, for the time being, we're going to mind our own business. We need to rebuild a civilization and give it a homeland.”

“Now, eat and rest. Tomorrow we start running this shithole like a real city. If you want to work and contribute, go to Eudokia, I'm sure she will be happy to help me sort you out."

…

After the first incredulous reactions, both the Vanedenis and the Ahalis began to ask Maximilian some questions.

How had he managed to make a stream pass near his tower? What would his undead do the next day? Would mechanical work really no longer be made by citizens?

The [Necromancer] responded with pleasure, and went to great lengths to satisfy the curiosity of his subjects.

He had managed to be forgiven.

Mummer sat at a table with two soldiers. His usual gruff expression had chased away most of those who had tried to sit next to him.

The [Weapon Master] was still in pain, to be honest, but what the Londoner was saying was worth fighting with the numbness that enveloped his limbs. It was important to stay and listen.

He was sure that if the necromancer wanted to, he would make an incredible speech that would inspire everyone's hearts and give birth to a new civilization. But he'd already heard him say a crucial phrase that explained his new attitude: I'm not a competitive [Necromancer].

It seemed that something had eroded him over the years, the same thing that had paralyzed him during the conflict.

He agreed with him when he said he hadn't committed any crime. The very reason they had been able to resist was all that the man had given them. No one else had had such an impact on his people in an unquantifiable number of years.

Their heroes had led armies of valiant warriors, not an old man with brittle bones and a little girl with blond hair and short legs. Yet, Maximilian had turned them into war machines. He had forgiven a man who had stabbed one of his comrades, redirected that treacherous hand against their enemies, saving countless lives during the conflict.

He had performed miracles worthy of the greatest Heroes, but the Vanedenis had not been able to forgive him for a mistake that had finally made him human, closer to them.

Mummer ran his hand over his face, smooth as a child's. A blow to the face had shaved off a piece of his beard and, after the fight, he had decided to remove what was left. After the clash, he had also decided to accept Maximilian's conditions almost immediately.

He had been furious at first. When he thought of all the people he had seen grow up and who had died within seconds, his blood boiled. But, at the same time, he understood what a great opportunity lay before them. It was since the arrival of the Earthlings that the air had a different smell, that there was something that tickled the strings of their hearts. It was the presence of a person who belonged to a legend, not reality.

Mummer was lost in thought when he was awakened by a woman's voice.

"Is this seat free?"

Mummer shrugged and, without even looking up, nodded. He had no problem sharing his bench, but his gaze would have stayed down on the table.

He needed to think and reflect on what they had now and what awaited them. And to talk to Maximilian, to ask him questions that would leave their mark.

“Are you there?"

A hand knocked on the table in front of his eyes.

It was then that Mummer noticed out of the corner of his eye that the soldiers sitting next to him were staring at him.

Then he looked at the hand resting on the table. The fingers were long and slender, rather large for a woman; but he had seen plenty of Vanedeni women with manly hands. The thing that left him dumbfounded was that just after the wrist, the initial part of the forearm was covered with thick, tawny and silver hair.

Mummer looked up and found himself standing in front of a woman, yes, but an Ahali woman.

"Mh?" The man grunted, not quite knowing how to react.

“It really seems that you are closer to our ancestors, as your Maximilian called them. Your grunt has just come out of the wilderness."

Mummer was stunned for a moment.

Why had that Ahali gone to sit right next to him?

He turned his gaze to Maximilian. Maybe he was the one who said something, talking about integration and the like?

“No, don't worry, you haven't missed anything. Some of my people are still very suspicious and are trying to figure out how to kill you and your dear [Necromancer]; the rest, however, are more confused than you. But, if we have to live together, we might as well begin to know the mightiest specimens of your species."

Mummer glanced at his clothes, almost torn to shreds, the remnants of the robes he had kept under his armour. He noticed, with a note of shyness, that he had more bare skin than he had noticed before. And, for some reason, he thought the woman in front of him was looking exactly at that.

But no, he couldn't behave like an idiot. He had to be a proud representative of his people. The big man decided to behave as he had done in Vissart's military service, when he had had to meet delegations from other cities and, rarely, interact in informal contexts with nobles or superiors.

“Mummer is my name. May I ask yours?"

“Manners worthy of a prince!" the woman let out a laugh.

It was then that Mummer saw pearly white teeth, green eyes with shades of gold - and even the two large bunny ears on her head somehow seemed to give her a particular elegance.

There was something wild about the coat of hair that covered her, but also something fascinating.

The man smiled and, almost without realizing it, found himself forging the first bond between Vanedenis and Ahalis.