The journey to the border was a simple one.

A couple of soldiers of the Royal Army were assigned to guide Nerokov and the child out of the nation, and they did so in nothing less than a military class vehicle.

"VIP treatment all of a sudden... I can't say that I don't like it, but isn't this a bit much for a mercenary who was just trying to sneak across the border?"

Looking over to the men sitting in the drivers and passengers seats, Nerokov asked this with suspicion in his tone.

"You're now one of us. No... to say that you are one of us would be an understatement. You have been personally selected by the Commander for an important mission.", the driver responded. "Do you understand what that means?"

Tension filled the vehicle, however with a nod Nerokov responded in the affirmative.

"Of course I understand."

Looking down to the child, the man's expression hardened as he realized what needed to be done.

"Failure isn't allowed. Is that right?"

"Exactly."

The soldier in the passenger seat responded, speaking in a grim tone.

"Those damn rebels... acting as if we haven't been struggling just as much as they have... they're just using the displeasure of the people to take power for themselves... and the people are too ignorant to even realize that. If it were up to me..."

"Don't."

The driver cut off the man in the passenger seat from finishing off his sentence, his eyes darkening as the vehicle barreled down the snowy lane.

"I already know what you're going to say. There isn't a man in the Royal Army who isn't thinking the same thing. But such a thing... is blasphemy against our entire existence."

"Yeah... I know. Sorry. But even so... if only."

Silence filled the vehicle as Nerokov looked back and forth between the men, completely at a loss as far as their conversation was concerned.

"What are you two talking about?", he asked.

The two froze in their words, choked up as they looked at one another, unsure how to respond.

"Hey. Is there something you're hiding from me?", Nerokov pressed.

"No, that isn't it. Ah... let's just explain it. It shouldn't be blasphemy to do that much, right?", the passenger responded.

"I guess not.", the driver stated. "Listen up. You should already know that the current king is... well, very different from previous kings. His position was different in the selection. His experiences were different. Everything was different. And because of that... the Commander has been placed in a very rough position. Keeping this nation together is everything he can do... but it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he is the very thread which has kept it together to this point."

As the group drove along, the storm began to pick up as the driver turned the wipers on to allow for visibility.

"The Commander... he is the very reason why every single man in the Royal Army remains on this side. Because we believe in his vision."

"And what is that vision?", Nerokov inquired.

Taking a deep breath in as he took a sharp turn, the driver sped up after realigning the course of the vehicle, proceeding with all haste.

"The Commander has always been loyal to the crown with every aspect of his being. And right now... the Commander has taken it upon himself to ensure that the next heir will be greater than any other."

"What do you mean by that?"

Confused at the careful wording of the man, Nerokov thinned his eyes in suspicion.

"Well... since you've signed the contract you're now one of us. I suppose it will be alright to fill you in on the details, given that the Commander has entrusted you with a mission of this magnitude. Listen up. Because I'm only going to say this once."

With a confident smile, the man relaxed his tone as he spoke with pride.

"The Commander plans on personally becoming involved in the raising of the next heir so that he becomes the greatest ruler in history. A figure of peace... justice... prosperity... but most importantly, someone who will shake the very world. Someone who will challenge all, taking control of every nation in existence... and ruling them."

"Eh?"

Nerokov found his jaw unable to remain upright as he attempted to comprehend such a thing.

"This... what?"

"Surprising, isn't it? Yet... if it's the Commander, then surely such a leader will be able to come about.", the man in the passenger seat replied.

"That... that's impossible. Such a thing... uniting the entire world... no, that... how would one even consider-"

"He has planned everything."

With a grin, the driver cut off Nerokov, who spoke out in disbelief.

"Even if the current state of the nation is bad... such a thing is merely a bump in the road. To the Commander... who is the ultimate strategist... everything is within his calculations. Mark my words, Nerokov. I do not know how or when... but a time will come when the Commander's vision will pass. And you... haha... how envious I am of you... that you will be one of the cogs that mesh into such a grand plan."

"You're saying that he predicted the rebellion? If he did such a thing, why didn't he prevent it!?", Nerokov shouted.

"Power, Nerokov. The Commander may have been the leader of the Army... but he is not the King. And even if every one of us are absolutely loyal to him without doubt, he has sworn his fealty to the crown. He knew that the current King would allow the nation to go to shit, but he couldn't do anything to stop him without committing treason. And as the Commander of the Royal Army... such a thing would foil his plans."

"Why wouldn't he just take control himself?"

"That... haha... perhaps that is what we all would want. But the people... the people would never agree to such a thing. They would see him as nothing more than a tyrant. Nerokov. The Commander is not rash. He will do anything it takes... and take as much time as needed. Years. Decades. His entire life, even. If his goals are achieved... then without a doubt he would be willing to use even his own life as a pawn in this game. And yet... he cannot do such a thing unless he knows for certain that everything will succeed."

"So basically... he'll crush this rebellion in order to raise his standing with the King... and then use that as an opportunity to become close with one of his sons... then raise that son in order to become a perfect ruler?"

"You're quite quick on the uptake. I can see why the Commander desired you. But to be honest.. I can’t say for certain whether that’s his plan or not. His plans… are beyond our comprehension."

Coming to a stop, the group reached a checkpoint.

Rolling down the window, the man showed his ID to the soldier, who gave a quick nod and made a motion as a barrier was removed from the road, and the vehicle was allowed to pass.

Rolling up the window once more, the driver spoke again.

"And Nerokov... did you think that keeping the Stronvardians from communism is the only reason he’s sending you there?"

"Eh?"

As the man spoke, he smiled as he began to chuckle.

"The Commander is someone who plants seeds everywhere. Even now... he is preparing all the nations so that when the day comes for this ruler to take over, that they will smoothly fall into his hands. And you... happen to be one of those seeds."

Reaching a military grade wall with electrical wiring across the top, the vehicle came to a stop.

A gate was before them, and the vehicle came to a stop as the soldiers prepared to exit.

"This is the border. We've prepared you a passport, of course, and negotiations with our allies in Stronvardia have already begun. A place and a job is already being prepared as we speak."

Handing over a passport as well as a binder of documents, Nerokov was shocked to see how prepared these men were.

"You... I just spoke with the Commander earlier today. How could all this have already been prepared?"

Widening his eyes in disbelief as he took the documents and packed them, Nerokov found himself once more wondering.

"Just how far ahead has this man planned?"

Stepping outside the vehicle as the group headed towards the gate, the man who had been driving merely smiled, his back to the others as he walked in front.

"I told you already, did I not?"

In that instant, within the man who spoke on behalf of his Commander, Nerokov felt it.

The same immenseness which he had experienced when he spoke with that man.

"Even his own death... is something which he has planned beyond."

----

7 years passed.

With the assistance of the Royal Army, Nerokov had found a place within the localized government in Northern Stronvardia, near the border between the two nations.

He had quickly risen in the ranks of the intelligence department, gaining his citizenship and pledging his loyalty to the Republic of Stronvardia.

Eventually, he had become a local director of the Merstok providence intelligence division.

"Good afternoon, Director. I've come to give my report."

"Then give it."

"Of course. No signs of unusual activity on the border."

"Do you think I care about what's happening on the border? Joraten. What is happening right now in Joraten?"

"Sir! Well, information is extremely limited because of the state of that nation, but we've discovered that a battle is about to begin."

"A battle?"

Sitting forward with interest, the one eyed man thinned his eye as he scanned his subordinate.

"What do you mean by a battle?"

"Sir, it appears that the revolutionaries have united completely under the rule of Kraig Strax, and they are planning on attacking the Capital in order to slay the King and take control of the nation."

"This... how did you obtain this information?"

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Sir! It was your connection with the Royal army. The soldiers that we sent in as spies were able to learn this from the Commander of the Royal Army, who was preparing to defend the Capital at all costs."

"This... I see... so he's still planning."

With a smile, Nerokov sat back in the chair, waving the man off.

"Anything else to report?"

"Ah, there was one more thing, Director."

Reaching into the pocket of his uniform, the man pulled something out as Nerokov watched him.

"What is it?", he asked.

"We happened to learn that the Director of the Merstok Intelligence Division is a Joraten Spy."

In that instant, the sound of two shots were heard.

As the man shot through his uniform with a gun hidden underneath, Nerokov felt an immense pain spike up as his shoulder and lung were pierced.

"Blurgh!"

Spitting up blood, the man fell forward in his seat as he realized his situation.

'I've been found out? By the Stronvardian Government? This man... he was supposed to be on my side... was he sent here to investigate me?'

These thoughts ran through the mind of Nerokov as he bled out, his head resting on his desk as everything went dark.

'Shit... the brat... what is he going to do now?'

The pain numbed, and eventually he felt nothing as a chill overcame the man.

‘Was this… a part of his plan as well?’

This was the final thought Nerokov had before everything went dark - and he died.

----

The old man wasn't home.

He was never home.

When Randov woke up in the mornings, the old man would have already left for his work.

He would leave for work at 5:30 AM, and he would come home at midnight, when Randov had already fallen asleep.

However every night when he arrived home, the old man would come into his room to check on him.

He would enter the room, look at him, confirm that he was safe, and then close the door and head to bed.

Randov knew this because he was an insomniac.

Every once in a while, he would find himself completely unable to sleep.

Even though he was exhausted, and even though he would sit in his bed with his eyes shut, he would not fall asleep.

He would lay in that bed for hours, trying and trying to fall asleep - yet the sleep would never come.

When the alarm rang, signaling that it was time for him to go to school, the boy would force himself out of his bed - exhausted yet unable to get even a wink of sleep - and he would proceed to the school.

After preparing himself and walking for almost an hour, the boy would eventually reach his destination - a school in a small town in the Northern area of Stronvardia near the border which was primarily composed of immigrants - legal and illegal.

Randov didn't know too much about his home country, but he knew that he was from Joraten - the country to the North of Stronvardia, and it was none other than the old man who had brought him out of that country to this place.

The old man never explained why, or what had happened.

When Randov asked one time, the old man merely sat there silently - maintaining eye contact with that one eye of his as he refused to respond.

Randov had never asked that question again.

The other children had parents - a mother and a father - yet when Randov had asked if he could call him his father, the old man had merely nodded no.

"I'm not your father. At best, I'm just a stand-in."

He never explained.

He only said these few words, keeping everything to himself.

On one particular day when the boy was in his class, the teacher one day brought up the topic.

"Tomorrow is going to be parents day. Your mothers and fathers are invited to visit the classroom, so make sure to let them know!"

Just before the class had let out, the teacher had given this announcement, to the confusion of Randov.

"Sir, what if we don't have parents?", the boy had asked - at which the remaining students began to laugh.

"Randov, everyone has parents! Where do you think you came from?", one kid had commented.

"Eh? Is that so?", the boy had responded. "But I've never met them. Are you sure they exist?"

This was the response Randov had given to the boy who had loudly responded, quieting the class around him.

Not a single person had known what to say, so the teacher took control without missing a beat.

"At... at any rate... I'll see you all tomorrow! Class dismissed!"

With these words, Randov had left class that day to return home, wondering.

'Do I really have parents?'

'Where are they?'

'What type of people are they?'

'Will I ever meet them?'

These thoughts were what gave rise to the curiosity of the boy, however after his conversation with the old man such curiosity was shut down.

The following day, the mothers and fathers of his classmates had come into the class.

For some, only the mother could come. For others, only the father.

For the rest, both the mother and the father.

Yet for Randov... none came.

The old man was not his father.

He was merely his caretaker.

"My father is a firefighter! He's a hero who saves lives every single day!"

"My mother is a nurse and my father is an En... En..."

"Engineer, darling."

"Enjeer!"

"My mother works for the gov-urn-mint."

"My father drives trucks!"

Each of the students were given the opportunity to introduce their parents, showing off whatever profession their parents had to their peers.

However when the time came for Randov to present, the teacher merely looked at him sympathetically.

"That will be it for the presentations."

Perhaps out of pity, the teacher did not force the boy to come forward.

Yet on seeing all the other children with their parents, who had come in, Randov realized something on that day.

'I... don't have that.'

'Why... does everyone else have them?'

The boy realized on that day that something was wrong.

That he was different.

However, on one particular night, the old man did not return.

Laying down in his bed wide awake, unable to sleep, the boy watched and waited - glancing at the clock every few minutes.

'The old man still hasn't returned yet.'

Standing up from his bed, the boy decided to go check.

'Did he go straight to bed?'

Exiting the room, the boy looked around - and that was when he saw it.

In the living room, sitting on the couch while sipping on some freshly brewed coffee was a man.

He was young, likely in his early thirties, and he had a relaxed smile on his face as he sat with both legs crossed.

Combat boots donned his feet, which he rested on the couch without reserve, a sniper rifle clutched to his side.

"Ah... so you're the brat. I guess I should apologize, but you know... doing that would mean telling you what I’ve done... and that would only make things more complicated."

Closing his eyes, the man leaned forward as he planted his feet, hanging his arms as he grinned.

"Well, I suppose it's about time to tell you everything anyway. How old are you? 9 already? Yeah... you're old enough. I got two pieces of news for you, boy. So sit down and listen up."

The red hair of the man fell in front of his face as he spoke, covering his eyes as he pointed to the couch across from him.

Randov followed the orders of the man, fearful yet obedient as he did what he was told without question.

"Who are you? Where is the old man?", the boy asked, quivering.

"I was about to tell you both of those things. Be a bit more patient, will you? If you're not patient, then you'll never catch anything in your crosshair."

Taking in a deep breath, the man poured another cup of coffee, sliding it over to the boy.

"Ah, you probably don't like this stuff. Too bitter maybe? Well, whatever. Drink it if you want, don't if you don't. Not my problem. So for the first question... no, I guess I'll answer with the bad news first."

His expression becoming serious, the man who seemed to be carefree just seconds before spoke in a dull tone.

"Nerokov is dead."

Laying this statement onto the boy in that dark room, the child was unable to comprehend this information.

His eyes widened, and his breathing heightened.

Clutching his chest, the boy felt as if he was going to hyperventilate, at which the man let out a sigh.

"Hey. Hey. Calm down, will you? That was the bad news. The bad news."

"What... what is the good news then?", the boy squealed, tears forming in his eyes as he tried to calm himself.

However, at this, the man merely raised an eyebrow.

"I never said there was any good news. I'm now going to tell you the worse news."

Tears streamed down the eyes of the boy as his heart writhed within his chest.

At that moment, the boy realized that even though the old man was never around - he was still the only person in his life.

He was the only person who was ever there - even if he was never there.

"W... why?"

Wiping his tears as he sniffled, the boy whose head was hairless from birth began to cry, unable to handle the news.

"Why is there worse news?"

"You asked two questions, didn't you? I answered one of them. The old man is somewhere underground at this point... or at least, we can hope he is. Though that's probably a bit too optimistic."

Shaking his head as he threw away the thoughts, the man sat back in the seat.

"As for the other question... you asked who I am. Well, the answer is simple... but it's all too complicated. But to you... first and foremost..."

Placing his hand on the head of the child, the man realigned it so that the child looked straight at him.

"I'm the one who killed your parents."

----