“War’s cool,” Sam said. “Conceptually I mean. Like I would much rather read about a fantasy setting that has a war going on than one without one. Of course, living in one is the exact opposite… So the war?”

“First, like you said, stuff would probably make a lot more sense to you if you had a map to look like. So here you go.” She smiled and handed him the binder open to an image which was appropriately titled Map of the Known Web.

The known Web consisted of more than a hundred different worlds (at least that was Sam’s rough approximation since they weren’t numbered) but only a few were named. The borders, though, were clearly marked so that every world was claimed under one of five uniquely colored spheres. He quickly found the area claimed by the Terran Republic (in green, thank god) at the bottom right of the map. Or in the south-east, since the four cardinal directions were still present, as evidenced by the designation given to the westernmost, southernmost and easternmost worlds.

The area under New Terra’s purview included only itself and the two neighboring worlds, Gehelis to the west and Centauri to the east. Every pathway leading from those two led to worlds controlled by the Kingdom of Sarechal, whose area of influence continued until it met the Harmonic Accord in the east and the Pyllan Empire in the south. Like Sarah said, the Accord controlled only a few worlds, with most of them bordering the edge of the filled map, simply marked as The Front. The empire’s borders continued to stretch west from its meeting point with the elven kingdom until the southwest, where it met with the Caravanserai. The ningana borders were indeed the largest, and they even continued north past the point where all was known in its eastern counterpart, until they too ended at The Front.

“Huh,” Sam said after a couple of minutes of gazing at the map.

“Huh?”

“Honestly? This sort of reminds me of a video-game approximation of what a galaxy would look like. You even have the galactic core or whatever, although it isn’t usually that big.” He pointed to the worldless hole in the middle of the map, which gave the Web a very unfortunate donut shape.

“That, is called Empty Plain. It’s a mystery unto itself and I’m afraid I don’t know much about it, only the important bit. Which is that it prevents passage through it and thus from the worlds on its borders and out to the other side. Essentially providing us with an impenetrable well and funneling the enemy to the edges of the Web, where the front is.”

“And is it the same enemy on both fronts?”

“Yes, they’re called the Epiraks.”

“You’re fucked.”

“What? Why?”

“Why? Because you’re surrounded by the same enemy. Are you attacking or defending?”

“Defending.”

“Then you’re definitely fucked.”

“It’s the exact opposite. It’s easier to defend than to attack.”

Sam nodded with sage wisdom that he definitely didn’t have. “In real life, maybe, but this is fantasy, remember.”

“You don’t really believe that… right?” Sarah asked, eyes boring into him.

Sam shrugged. “Like I said, the reality of this existence is still up for debate. I’ve been confronted with it for not even a day after all.”

“Fine… but we’ll talk about this tomorrow if you still have your doubts. And every day after that, if necessary.” She paused after that, deep in contemplation apparently. Sam had to nudge her out of her own head.

“The war?” he reminded her.

“Oh, right. So the war actually started about two-hundred-fifty years ago. And for the first two hundred years, there was only the western front. At first, in was only the ningani fighting against the Epiraks, but the empire joined in after a couple of decades, when their threat became apparent. Eventually, after the elves and Imperials finalized their peace treaty, the elves also started sending help, although only in the form of high-level squads and a dozen or so Rulers.”

“What about us? Once we joined the picture.”

“We wanted to provide them with our weapons and other advanced technologies, those that proved useful in fighting against the Harots at least, but we were rejected by the Imperials and ningani both. Any actual help then, was given in the form of unofficial volunteers, same as the deshars did. Unfortunately, fifty years ago, the Epiraks opened up the front in the east. Which dragged us, the deshars and the elves, fully into the war. Nowadays, the war is mostly stable; we three take care of the east, the Imperials and ningani of the west. As of the last major development ten years ago, the front is static.”

“And why not take the attack to them?”

“We can’t,” she said and pointed at the northern edge of the deshar border. “All these worlds, the unknown ones north of where the front stretches, are barren-worlds. So completely devoid of life and magic that only Rulers can pass through them unharmed. Even a level 10 would only be able to survive on them for a couple of minutes at most.

“So how’d the Epiraks get here then?”

“They have vessels called holdworlds, which function like a spaceship, would be the most basic explanation for these are. Although that instead of traveling through space, they ‘travel’ through the void between worlds. Except they don’t really travel because they still need to make use of the portals. Our main problem with them is that they aren’t physically in the world, rather, they occupy the space outside of it, in the void. So that’s why they are able to bypass the poisonous environment of the barren worlds. Also, care to guess where the holdworlds came from? Clue, it’s the reason why I don’t believe a theory that we had just talked about.”

“The Reshan?” Sam asked.

“Yep, well done. Kind of hard to see the Reshan as anything resembling benevolent, when they’ve armed our enemy with its most useful weapon. But, back to your question. Every time we managed to push the Epiraks out of the front-worlds, they quickly regrouped and focused their counterattack on only a single world. So, because it’s less costly in resources and lives, and far safer simply to defend the portals themselves inside the front-worlds rather than the worlds at large, static defense is the name of the game.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why would it be easier to fight them after they’ve already established a beachhead? You always contest a naval landing if you can.”

“Yes, if you know where the enemy is landing. But if you got a hundred kilometers wide beach that eventually ends in a kilometer wide choke point, and you don’t know where the enemy is coming from, then you defend the choke point. That’s the strategy we had to adopt because of the holdworlds. Using them, they can open a portal to any point that they want. Changing their landing at will. So, if we want to prevent them from landing at all, we have to defend the entire world.”

“Which you don’t. In actuality, you’re only defending… only the portals? What’s the difference between your portals and theirs?”

“OK… I don’t want to get into this too deep, so I’ll just give you the rough overview of how portals work. The worlds are connected to each other by portal lanes, those are the all the lines you see going between worlds on the map. Basically, the fundamental part that makes the Web, the Web. To actually use these portal lanes, you need a portal, a fixed point on both worlds that connect each of them to each other. So far, so good?”

Sam nodded. “I think so.”

“Alright, so that’s where the strategy comes in: Rulers. Rulers can do two very important things for our discussion. First, they can, provided there’s two of them—one for each portal—change the portals’ characteristics; their location in the world, or size, for example. And second, Rulers can sidestep the exit portal, meaning the portal on the world they wish to get to. That means that if an Epirak Ruler steps through the portal on a barren world, they can appear at any place they want in the front-worlds. The problem is that the holdworlds can function as a Ruler in that aspect. Meaning that they can appear on any point in a front-world, provided they control the portal in a barren world.”

“I see… So because you can’t control the barren-worlds’ portals, there isn’t anything to gain from an offensive.”

“An offensive in the eastern front. Yes.”

“Just an eastern offensive? The western front is different, then? They don’t have barren worlds?”

Sarah grimaced. “They don’t. But remember how I mentioned that as of the last major development in the war, ten years ago, it’s been stable? Yeah, that last major development was a western offensive. This map is twenty years old, by the way, so make of that what you will.”

“Yikes… And yet, when I said that you guys are fucked, you told me I was wrong. Doesn’t sound like VW day is right around the corner.”

“Not losing is a form of victory as well, no? Getting to live and avoid being slaughtered is the ultimate triumph in the face of pure evil.”

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“Oh shit, slaughtered? Like everyone? That sounds pretty bad.”

“Like I said, the Epiraks are capital E evil. Slaughter is what happened to all the people, all living beings actually, who were left behind on worlds that fell to the Epiraks.”

“So what the fuck are these Epiraks? Are they orcs? Is this another cliche just in a disguise?”

“There aren’t any orcs in the Web. In fact, the Epiraks aren’t even a different race. It’s just the name they’ve given themselves.”

“So what are they? Humans?”

“What? No! Well, not exactly. They’re more like a… faction of different races.”

“I would like to receive the explanation in a simple and concise matter. Nothing like that whole portal business.”

“Yeah, so would we. We don’t actually know what the Epiraks are or where they came from.”

“From the north I’d guess?”

Sarah laughed. “Fair enough. The little that we do know, or at the very least that I know, about the Epiraks is that they can somehow assimilate the people they capture alive. And we also don’t know how the actual process works. Again, we’re just going by explanation that the Epiraks themselves have given us… And by eyewitness testimony of those unfortunate enough to see the people they knew assimilated.”

“Assimilated into what? Are they like a hive mind?”

“Not exactly. So there are two kinds of Epiraks, those that have maintained their intelligence, although not their identity, and those that didn’t. The former are called Martyrs, and they’re basically their equivalent of our individuals. The latter, those who act without intelligence, are called Brutes. And they sort of are part of a hive mind.”

“Brutes, really?” Sam raised an eyebrow, but Sarah just shrugged in response. “Don’t try to avoid responsibility. And it’s not like Martyrs are any better.”

“They’re the ones that named themselves that. The Martyrs did, I mean, those that can actually speak. Although, if it makes you feel any better, we Terrans sort of popularized calling them Martys.”

“It does actually. So that’s the war, then?”

“The short overview of it. Really short.”

Sam leaned back and let out a breath. “And where do I come into the picture?”

“That’s up to you…”

“Is it though? Is it really? Defeat in the war means complete annihilation. Don’t you guys need every available body at the front?”

“Fortunately, the situation isn’t that dire. Not to mention that bodies alone won’t help us in the fight with the Epiraks. No amount of level 3 conscripts will equal just the one Ruler.”

“So who you really need are those Terrans more magically inclined, whatever that means. Those with the largest potential, to apply themselves and join up with the service today. Presumably, people like me, right?”

“I’m not going to try and convince you one way or the other.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Nope. I had six years in which to ponder whether I want to join the military. Just because you’re ten years older than I was doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve some time for contemplation as well.”

“And what do you really think?”

“That is what I really think.”

“C’mon, cut the bullshit. You just said that you’ve been where I am eight years ago. Obviously, you came to a certain decision. Obviously, you’d think that I should make the same one.”

“I think that you’ve had your life stolen from you and that you should do with your new life, whatever it is that you want.”

“I’ll tell you what I want: I want to be a superhero just like you said. But without having to become one. Without the pain and hurt that goes with it. Fuck, look at us: we’ve been fucking kidnapped to a fantasy world; a pretty classic trope for a hero’s journey kind of story. And I don’t know about you, but I fucking want to see myself as the hero or protagonist in this story. But there’s no way that I’m going to end up as one, right? Maybe, maybe I’ll be able to become strong enough to save a couple of people’s lives, and that’s doubtful. But that’s as far as my exploits will reach.”

“So you don’t want to be a soldier, then?”

“C’mon. Look at me. Do I look like fighting material?”

Sarah made a show of looking him up and down. “You look fine to me.”

“Yeah, outside maybe, physically. And that’s new just as of today, by the way. But inside, I’m a mess. There’s no way I’m mentally fit for war.”

“How would you know? Were you ever in one?”

“No. But I know how much the prospect of moving out made me scared and anxious. Now imagine me laying in a barracks, somewhere, trying to sleep before a great battle.”

“Yeah, you would be sacred. Sure, you’d have trouble sleeping. So what? You think I wasn’t scared to move out and in here? You think that the night before my first battle won’t be a sleepless one? I assure you, you’re handling today way better than I, or anyone that I know, did and if that doesn’t mean that you have enough mental fortitude to be a soldier, then I can think of plenty of soldiers that aren’t fit for the role. Think about this, so many of our kind—Taken of all walks of life and mental dispositions—have been able to rise to the occasion. There’s no reason that you wouldn’t as well if that’s what you wanted. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Age-worn lack of self-confidence? My pessimism about my myself and future prospects that goes against my view about humans in general? Drawing conclusions based on past behaviors and events? Take your pick. And who says that being a Taken is a blank check guarantee for being someone worthwhile? After all, we don’t know what’s actually behind the Taken, right? And even if it’s ancient aliens, or the world itself, those things aren’t god. They make mistakes. Fuckups happen. I mean, couldn’t the fact that I’m an aberration with my age mean that I was an accident?”

“And what about you being a Thread-Weaver?”

“That… I don’t fucking know. I don’t even know what that actually means. I’m just trying to run away from my responsibility.”

Sarah squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have any responsibility to be a solider. You don’t own anything to anyone.”

Sam laughed in self-derision. “Don’t I? I’m pretty sure that I do. At least by the moral guidelines that I myself try to live by.”

“How’s that?”

“C’mon, it’s pretty obvious. You said it yourself: we can become superheros, and superheros have the responsibility to help other people.”

“Yeah, and you said that just because you can become Superman doesn’t mean that have to become one.”

“Yeah. But that’s actually bullshit and only works in real life because you can’t become Superman. I mean fuck, who am I kidding? I’ve just been having Kant blaring at the back of my mind ever since we started the conversation. At it’s pretty obvious what I should do going by his ethics.”

“That depends on how you read Kant, no?”

“I’ve always been of the opinion that on most topics there’s actually only one way to read Kant and anyone that tells you otherwise is just trying to sell you something because they want Kant’s clout or they don’t want to admit that they disagree with him. Wait, you also know Kant?”

“We do study philosophy here.”

“Really? Like how much? Because if it’s more than I did, then I might have no ground on which to stand when I tell you stuff that you actually know better than me.”

Sarah laughed. “Not that much. Only four courses are mandatory.”

“Oh. So yeah, you know more than me.”

“I find it hard to believe. If only because I never practically applied anything that I learned, like you already did twice today.”

“Sure, but that’s because you’re a good person with a healthy state of mind. I’m a piece of shit who’s wrecked by guilt and indecision. I have no recourse but heed Aristotle’s advice on how to be virtuous.”

“Which is?”

“Look at other people to tell you what to do.”

“Like Kant?”

“Like Kant.” Sam nodded.

“And what would Kant tell you to do, then? Why are you sure that he would force you to be a soldier?”

“I mean, you studied him as well, didn’t you? It’s pretty obvious, just going by the first categorical imperative.”

“Explain it to me like I’m someone who didn’t pay all that much attention in class and didn’t care about what grade I got in the final exam.”

“OK… So, there’s this… fuck I forgot, I think that he calls it moral law but I’m not sure. But basically, the way it goes is, and I’m going to butcher it, by the way. The first categorical imperative is that you should only act in the way which you would want—that you would will—to become a universal law of how people should always act. Like I said, I don’t remember the exact formulation, but this gets the point across, right? And if you’re reading from a particularly shitty translation, then my version might not seem so bad after all.

“So back to deriving a maxim from the imperative. Obviously, I would want to live in a world where everyone does their utmost to help the war effort. And that would mean that I myself have to do my utmost to help with the war effort. I have to become a solider, and train with magic, and all that other jazz that I don’t actually know what it all entails. So yeah, the moral thing to do would be to join up with the military just like you did. Because that’s what I would want other people in my position to do.”

“And what about the second categorical imperative?” Sarah asked.

“I thought that you didn’t pay attention in class.”

“Not much. But you helped jog my memory. So what about it then? Don’t treat other people as a means to an end, right?”

“Don’t treat them only as a means to an end. And what about it?”

“Well… don’t you think that you’re treating yourself as simply a means to an end, ‘helping the war effort?’ What about your own humanity and individual desires?”

“I don’t know… I don’t think the second imperative encompasses your own self as well. Besides, there’s the whole bit of improving your talents that Kant harps about.” He hung his head low. “But, you can’t seriously tell me that you don’t think that joining the military is the right thing to do. Because that’s what you did. And we’re both Taken. So if you joined, then I should join as well, right? By your act of joining, you’re willing that I do so.”

“OK. But if that’s your logic, then I joined after six years of living in this world. Which means that even were I subscribed to Kant’s morals, I would still give you six whole years before you had to act in the same way that I did.”

“And I’ll probably be the same person once those six years pass, so there’s no reason for me not to join up now. Besides, you waited six years because of legal limitations, I assume. Not because you were just taking the time off, enjoying yourself while people less… gifted than you spent their lives at the front in order to defend you.”

“Well… you could always take the academy for a trial run.”

“A trial run?”

“Of course. You might be older than the cutoff for the academy, but you’ll still be admitted in one-hundred percent. And enrolling in the academy doesn’t mean automatically committing to join the military. You can quit anytime you want during the first year, and I’m sure that in your case, the administration would be willing to prolong that period.”

“You sure about that?” Sam asked. Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “And why do you seem so happy for me to join? You’re the one that keeps trying to convince me that I don’t have to be a soldier.”

“You don’t have to be a solider. But I think you would make for a great one, even if you don’t. Besides, if you join the academy, that will mean that I could keep an eye out for you and that we could spend time together. Interacting with someone of my own time and age? Literally my greatest wish in the last eight years.”

“Yeah sure, but what you got is me. Sort of a monkey paw kind of deal.”

“Plus, I also think that the academy will be the best place for you to get acclimated. And not just because me and Maurice are here. But also because you’ll pretty much have all of your needs met without trouble: your own room, good food, and the best place to learn about this world, particularly magic. And even if you decide that you don’t want to pursue magic, you should at the very least know the basics, enough to get yourself a couple of levels and patterns. For your quality of life.”

“Well, you make a convincing argument.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Incidentally, it’s the only one I heard so far. People kept telling me, including you, that I should and can do whatever I want to do in this life. But this is the first suggestion I heard so far on how to go about it. And, conveniently, it pushes the moral decision that I have to make to the future without any drawbacks that I can see. I enroll in the academy, prove to myself that I can’t actually take this sort of environment, and then quit while suffering from only a medium amount of self-anguish and hatred.”

“Or, more likely, you find out that you’re much more cut out to this environment that you think so, and end up thriving. Becoming the youngest Terran Ruler ever.”

“Sure, sure… And how would you rate the chances that someone will finally explain to me what a Ruler is by then?”