Jack was awakened by a rattling on the road. The bag was still on his head, his hands were tied but not his feet. He was sitting on a metal floor with his back against a wall. Despite not being able to see through the bag he could tell that he was in a box on a carriage being taken somewhere at speed.

"Mike, are you awake?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"Yes, I have been for some time now."

"I'm sorry Mike. I brought you and your family into this." It didn't matter to Jack whether this was a dream or some really weird play he was in. In either case it was becoming too real.

"Not at all. In fact, I think I should thank you. If you hadn't been there I might be dead by now, if not killed by the village guard because coming across those three sons, then killed by the magical soldiers for hiding an artifact. Along with my family. Thanks to you this did not happen. Unfortunately I have no way of repaying you."

"Do you still have that bag over your head?" Jack asked.

"Yes, my hands are still tied behind my back. These ropes must be imbued with magic."

"Okay then. Let's deal with the back first. Sorry about this in advance."

"What are you planning to do?" Mike asked.

He understood however as soon as he felt Jack's boots on his chest. Soon he grabbed the end of the sack with his feet and pulled it off Mike's head.

"Don't you think they get mad if they find the bags off our heads?"

"It doesn't matter anymore." Jack answered, "we have become important to them. Until we outlive our usefulness, we can pretty much do anything we want. So would you take my bag off too?"

"Yes, sure. By the way, how can you remain so calm? Have you been in a situation like this before?"

"No, I haven't. But in my home these kinds of stories are popular, so I pretty much know how these kinds of situations unravel. I just never thought I'd find myself in a situation like this."

The explanation Jack gave surprised even himself. Yes, it had some truth to it, but reading stories and historic accounts about kidnappings and people faced with possible summary execution due to one reason or another should have had no influence on his ability to cope with either event. And yet he was strangely calm and could maintain a clear mind without the slightest hint of panic. As if somewhere in his mind his ability to panic or get flustered was switched off or cut out.

"I wonder where we're going?" Mike asked

"Probably to meet someone with more authority. I wonder how far it is, and how long we've traveled. The horses must get tired too, even if there are a lot of them."

"I think the horses have been changed once already. The knights probably have a lot of outposts so they can maintain full gallop."

"Still, the horses can't run at full speed for hours. Especially with this box trailing them."

"Actually they can." Mike responded, "they cast weight-reduction magic on the carriage and wind magic on the horse, so fresh winds is always blowing towards the head of the horse. With this the horse will feel as if he is running free of shackles and rid of any weight, in the best of weather and smoothest of surfaces. With the right magic, even teleportation is possible."

"So you have magic in this world?" asked Jack. "True magic, not just tech?"

"Yes, there is true magic." He stayed silent for a while. "What is tech?"

"I'll tell you later. After we've sorted out this situation and this world for that matter."

"I will hold you to that promise," Mike laughed.

For Mike this was a strange situation to be in. In an unknown windowless box, possibly on his way to execution, yet he was calm. Because of the stranger that had wandered to the village in the morning, a man younger than him that could create music unheard of in this world and managed to convince artifact-hunting knights to spare his life, at least for the time being. Both of these events were something that Mike had never even dreamt of happening. Especially the latter, as artifact hunters usually executed anybody who had stolen or hidden an artifact, because of the inherent danger of them. But now there seemed to be somebody who could actually tell the dangerous ones apart from the non-dangerous ones.

Their travel on the carriage came to an abrupt end as it started to slow down and finally stopped somewhere. The doors opened to the darkness and soldiers pulled them out of the carriage, putting new bags on their heads. They were then led through corridors and up the stairs that were so numerous as to confuse even Jack who was trying to memorize a possible escape route. They were finally led into a room with a carpet in the room instead of bare stone floors, as all the stair and hallways thus far. Also the room was large enough for every word uttered in it to be amplified by the echo.

Their bags were lifted to reveal a large room with a long red carpet on the floor. If Jack didn't know any better he would have supposed this to be the throne room. Around them were guards holding halberds and having swords on their hips. On the far end of the carpet there were people clad in the same purple capes they had seen on the old man in the village.

"Bow, for you are in the presence of the High King!" a guard shouted and kicked them to the ground.

Soon after they were both approached by the same old man they had met in the village.

"I will give you two one chance and but one chance to prove your worth to us. Should you fail, you will both be executed as traitors to the Kingdom and traffickers of artifacts. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Jack replied. He still wasn't sure if this was a dream or some elaborate play, but the serious tone of the situation started to unnerve him.

The old man waved to an assistant who presented a crimson red pillow to him. After the old man gave his consent, the pillow and what it carried was presented to the boys.

"Can you explain what this artifact is and what is its purpose?"

On the extravagant pillow before Mike was a small rectangular slab of black glass. It had thin frame to it and had no distinguishing features to it.

"I can not," Mike said in a dejected voice.

"How about you?"

"I can," Jack responded. Mike lifted his head and looked at the stranger.

"What is it then?"

"It is a cellular phone." Seeing the irritated and puzzled look of the old man he quickly added: "a long-range communication device. It's the pinnacle of almost 200 years of research into such equipment."

The throne-room was suddenly full of gasps.

"Silence!" the old man commanded, "explain to us, how does it work."

"At the moment it probably does not. It is powered by an internal energy source which is drained at the moment. If it had energy it could communicate with other similar devices far away. A person could send a letter with it, talk to the distant person directly, or even access any book ever published in the world."

"How?!" the old master raised his voice "What magic does it use?"

"It does not use magic, it is from a world with no magic. It uses a support network to transit messages between other similar objects."

"Explain this 'network' to us."

"Okay," Jack thought for a bit, "lets say you use flags to communicate from one defense tower to the next. But with the nonilluminated flags you can only do it during daylight times, right? In the dark it won't work. In this example, the light which allows you to see the flags is the network. In my world the air is full of such invisible light that these devices can see."

After a few seconds of silence he heard sarcastic clapping coming from the towering knight in blue armor, who had suddenly entered his field of view.

"That was an amusing story. But I've heard hundreds of these. This is just a slab of glass. How can you call that a device, a machine?"

"Have you ever tried to disassemble such devices?"

"No we have not, this is the only on of its kind we have. To disassemble it would mean to destroy it."

"It doesn't matter." The knight in blue armor replied. "Without him being able to show us how it works, there is just his fable about the artifact and its uses in an imaginary world of his. And I have heard such stories before and seen several cautious examples. He has no proof. If he can't make it work and prove himself then there is no point to this."

"I agree," the old man said, "you've failed. Take them away!"

Soldiers grabbed both Jack and Mike and started to drag them away.

"This is unfair!" Jack shouted, "handing me such an artifact. Do you also hand magical artifacts to people with no aptitude for magic expecting them to produce a splendid result!?"

"Stop!" the old wizard shouted.

"Okay, I will give you one more chance."

Another red pillow was presented to them.

"Just show it to him," said Mike quietly as the strange instrument was brought before him, "I have no idea."

"I do hope you know what this is."

Was was laying on a red pillow before jack was a silvery handgun. And handguns were something Jack knew relatively well.

"It is a pistol. A handgun."

"What is its function?" the old man continued.

"To inflict bodily injury on a living thing. From a distance."

"By what magic?"

"Again, no magic." Jack replied. This response seems to irritate the old man again. "You know what a cannon is?" asked Jack.

"A gunpowder, a barrel, a steel ball," responded Mike, "of course we do."

Jack turned to him with a smile and continued as if explaining this thing to him instead of the court wizards.

"This is a miniaturized version of the cannon. It does not as much damage, but it fires much more rapidly. In my world, this design is already over a 100 years old, but it is still widely used. Unlike a cannon, it does not use a separate ball, powder and wadding. All of that is combined into a neat little weatherproof package called a 'cartridge.'"

He looked about him.

"Could you guys remove my bonds? I could actually show you how this device works."

The old man thought for a moment and then nodded to the soldiers, who untied his hands.

Under the watchful eyes of every soldier in the room Jack carefully lifted the gun from the pillow. He released the magazine.

"This is a magazine," he explained, "it contains spare cartridges. This particular gun contains 9 of them here."

He put the magazine on the ground and then pulled back the slide, popping the last round in gun. Catching it in his hand.

"This is a single round. It's a brass cartridge, full of smokeless gunpowder, topped off by a bullet. At the other end is a primer. A small cap of shock-sensitive material, that explosively decomposes if hit hard. This decomposition ignites the gunpowder. The effect of the wadding is provided by the bullet and the barrel itself, as the bullet fits in there really snugly. The bullet itself, which does the damage, is lead jacketed in copper. Copper jacketing is necessary to not foul the barrel, as the barrel has grooves which give the moving bullet a spin, stabilizing its flight. Can you understand everything thus far?"

"How dangerous is it?" the old man asked.

"In the form you handed it to me it was very dangerous. A person unfamiliar with it could've killed ten people with it in seconds. At the moment, without magazine or bullets, it is as dangerous as a paperweight and utterly useless for its intended function."

Jack put the round back in the barrel and attached the magazine, releasing the slide.

"And now it is dangerous again. A layman can hit targets up to 60 yards away. An expert can hit targets more than 100 yards away. If i wanted to, I could have killed 10 of you already with it."

"Like we could believe that!"

"You want proof?" Jack asked, "Fine."

He pointed the gun towards a window and pulled the trigger. To his surprise the gun fired and a deafening noise rang through the throne room. The soldiers reacted but not before Jack who got up and turned the gun towards the soldiers who were trying to attack him from behind.

"Calm down!" the old man shouted.

"Yes, calm down." Jack responded, "you wanted a demonstration, you got it. I still have nine bullets left. And I gave you a demonstration. I could've killed the wizard, that big knight and the king since I took the first shot. But I did not."

Truth be told, right now Jack was in a dream-like daze. The gun was real, the recoil and the bullets were also real. At this point, even the soldiers as well as the High King at the far end of the room might have been real. Or real enough for him.

"Don't believe him! Even if he has a hand cannon, he needs to clean and reload it to fire again."

"It has already been reloaded," Jack explained, "after the primer is struck, the bullet leaves the gun, the bolt extracts the empty cartridge, and grabs a new one from the magazine, readying it for the next shot." He looked around, seeing all the frightened faces around him. "Have I made my point, or do I actually need to splatter some brains on your fine carpet?"

The court wizard looked towards the end of the carpeted throne room receiving a silent nod from the man sitting there.

"Yes, you've made your point. You certainly know about this artifact. Could you return it?"

"Sure." Jack took out the magazine and unloaded the pistol, "I'll be keeping the bullets though. After all, you have no idea how to keep such items safe."

"That is agreeable."

As soon as he placed the gun back on the pillow, he was seized by the soldiers. Mike was also brought to his feet. The old man looked at both of them once more and then proclaimed their sentence.

"Take the stranger in black to the catacombs. Kill the other one."

Mike felt his heart sink and freeze over. This was after all the result he knew and was expecting. He could not be useful to them, so he was to be punished for bringing an unknown artifact to the town. He wasn't bitter about it. The strange boy had just demonstrated how dangerous an unknown artifact can be even in unskilled hands. And there were probably artifacts that were even more powerful than this hand cannon. This time it was just a music instrument, but it could have as well been a weapon of unimaginable danger. In either way, he could not tell the difference And he was already saved once or twice today. His luck had ran as far as it was possible.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"No!" Jack interrupted, "spare him. If you execute him, you might as well execute me to because i will willingly become to you as useless as he is now."

"Fine!" the old wizard responded angrily, "take them both to the catacombs!"

Jack's hands were tied again and they were dragged away.

"Why?" asked Mike, with teary eyes, "why would you ask them to spare me? Again?"

"You still have your uses," Jack responded, "and i need to pay your family back for the meal somehow. Might as well with this."

*

The old man from the far end of the room finally rose from his throne and walked towards the old wizard who bowed as soon as he noticed him coming.

"Rise!" the King said.

"Milord, may I inquire your opinion?"

"I have already made my decision. We have the old law, but at this point there is no country in this world which actually adheres to it. We have lagged behind in this field for a while now, so it is time for a change."

"But was it right to..? I mean his knowledge rivals the knowledge on the forbidden magicks."

"Like he said, if he wanted to kill you, me or the others, he could've done so several times over, magic or no magic. The bullet from his gun probably flies faster than we can say the incantations. He not only showed his knowledge but the color of his spirit. We need people like him."

"Your majesty cannot mean.."

"I most certainly mean that. Even though I was not worthy to be a direct descendant of the Emperor, I worthy to be a High King. And my great-grandfather the previous Emperor, was a well-known womanizer after all. Well into his old age."

*

"What. The. Hell." These were the only words that Jack could utter.

"Jack." Mike said in a serious tone. "Before you start with this obvious treasure trove. Please, I need to know something."

"What is it?"

"I've never ever been out of my village! I've never seen a true noble or a royal! Today I saw all of them! I saw the High King, second only to the Emperor ruling our empire. What I want to ask you is: in that throne room, could you really have done it? Killed the king with that artifact?"

"The gun probably could have. Not so sure about myself."

"What do you mean?"

"With a trained user the gun has a maximum effective range of about 60 yards. I am no trained user, so for me it is much much less. Even if I take my careful time with aiming. Even if the sights are not off. There are so many variables that getting a one-shot kill at that range for a novice like me is mostly about luck, not skill."

"But could you actually kill a person?"

"Yes. I could." Jack said with no hesitation. "Guns have made it far to easy. Probably magic too. With a blade it is much more difficult, because you will feel every inch of the cut you make."

"O-okay," Mike looked at his friend's serious gaze and took a step back.

His eyes followed Jack as he walked down the stairs deeper into the catacombs. Of course! It took a moment for him, but he finally realized it. They both had been in a life or death situation. Maybe for Jack they still were. Thats why he had thought so deeply and had spoken so strongly about it. He himself had resigned to his fate facing overwhelming power, but Jack had not. Even if he was a novice, as soon as he recognized the item, he had requested his hands to be freed. He took his time examining the artifact, checking if it had "bullets", familiarizing himself with the way it actually worked. And then he caused the disruption, also proving that it still worked. And after that he was actually ready to.. while Mike had still been resolved to his fate.

This was unforgivable to him. He had not given up on anything thus far in his life and now he had given up immediately without even realizing it.

He followed Jack into the catacombs.

*

This was so not what Jack had imagined when the word "catacombs" had come up. He had expected a torture chamber and not a huge arched halls full of items familiar to him. Just everything. From clothes and everyday items like books, kitchen utensils, furniture and electronics to spare parts to cars and of course, weapons. Lots and lots of guns, ammo, even a.. he accelerated his gait and soon stood before a white metal monster with wings.

"The hell?" Jack stared at the shark image painted on the fuselage.

"What is it?"

"It is Fairchild Republic's A-10 Thunderbolt. A ground attack aircraft. It can maneuver so well in the air that it starves its engines. It has a triple redundant flight controls, a ceramic tub protecting the cockpit. It can still fly after its been shot to absolute shit by Triple-A fire. And best of all, it has a 30 millimeter 7 barrel rotary cannon, capable of firing 4000 rounds a minute, raining down kinetic penetrators made of depleted uranium."

"So.." an old bearded man appeared, wearing a purple cape with gold accents. "You actually know what this thing is?" he lowered his hood and took a good long look at the boys. "Are you yourself perhaps an artifact?"

"You might consider me as such," Jack responded, "a living artifact."

"Most interesting, yes." the old man nodded. "There has been a four hundred year ban on human artifacts. Seems the times are changing."

"What do you mean, "a ban"?" Asked Jack.

"It doesn't matter now, not now," the old man muttered while pacing towards a huge desk in the middle of the scores and scores of items. "What matters now is you. So tell me everything."

"Everything?" Asked Jack with a smile. "About what?"

"Everything. About everything!" The old man exclaimed, "you should be from the same world as these artifacts, right? So tell me everything. For example about this," the picked up a pen and held in the air. Then clicking it once.

"It is called a pen." Jack explained. "the outer shell is made of something called plastic. Inside there is a spring loaded mechanism that allows the writing tip to be revealed and retracted. The writing part itself is made of a thin plastic tube containing jellifed artificial ink. The metal tip has a small metal ball in it, which transfers the jellied ink from the tube to the paper."

"Wonderful, just wonderful!" the old guy's eyes started to shine, as he closed a huge book without making a single mark in it and picked up another, with now clearly ready to start writing.

"This just now was a test, right?" Jack asked.

"Yes. You may claim to be from another world, you may be able to recognize a few, but to pass both a test of a random artifact by High Wizard Ocampo and by myself means that you truly are knowledgeable about them. In a way that far exceeds any other mortal in this world. So lets start with that big white thing. You said it was an "air craft", am I correct? Tell me everything!"

*

"Hey!" the old scribe poked Jack with a broomstick, "hey! Hey! Hey! There are perfectly good beds around here! Why do you have to sleep on a priceless artifact?"

"But.. after it is done being an artifact, it goes back to being a car seat again, right?" said Jack in his sleep.

"A car seat, you say?" the old scribe said in a captivated voice. "oh, please tell me more!"

"Stop it, I'm really tired of that dream." Jack turned himself on his back and then slowly opened his eyes to see the old man with a long white beard and green eyes bowing over him with anticipating eyes.

"So it was not a dream?" Jack said in a despondent voice, "I can't wake up from this one. I can't get back home this way."

Suddenly there were heavy blows to the door and a squad of soldiers rushed in.

"You, the artifact thieves! The High King has requested your presence!" the leader of the soldiers, the woman from before in the village, spoke. She waved a coil of rope.

"Really?" asked Jack, "again with the ropes?"

"Yes. After the thing you pulled yesterday."

"Fine then," Jack sighed.

Jack and Mike were tied from their hands again and then dragged up the numerous hallways and staircases back to the throne room. But this time directly down the red carpet and in front of the massive throne. On the throne designed as a pair of griffons offering a king a seat on their backs and raised wings, there sat a man with a long beard and hair. If it wasn't for the gray in his hair and beard, one could consider him no more than 45 years old. The High King was in a quilted long robe covering a silver breastplate with golden accents. Around his head was a silver ring with a few jewels that were emitting a faint glow.

"Kneel!" the soldiers shouted and they were kicked in the back of the knee.

Jack could still see the different magicians in purple robes, each of them had a wand in hand and once he even glimpsed a leather holster with two or three additional wands.

"Leave us!" the High King spoke. Soldiers untied their hands and left. As they were doing that, the eight or so mages on the sides of the throne raised their wands.

"You two. Jack and Mike," the king spoke in a tempered voice, "I assume you've had an eventful night."

"Your majesty could say that," Jack answered.

"Just like you had an all-night meeting with our current foreign artifact expert, I've had an all-night meeting with the King's Command and the cabinet ministers to decide what to do with you. I must say, after what unfolded yesterday, I was advised against meeting you in person. In about 300 years no person has been as close to harming the King as you were yesterday. So to meet you again, some preparations had to be made. Hence I must give you a warning. At the moment at least two dozen arrows are aimed at you. My personal magic defense corps will give their lives to fuel the magic used to kill you, should you attempt anything. The even insisted I bring out the enchanted armor that was worn by the First King who united the empire some 800 years ago."

"Very well." said Jack, "I would expect nothing less from a head of state."

His voice was stable end even held a note of some contempt. Despite that inside him raged a storm of emotions, desire to break down, to run away, to escape the situation and await his fate. In some regards even insanity felt like a suitable harbor.

"For the last 400 years there has been a secret law in effect which was once agreed by all 13 Kings of this empire. As well as our neihboring empires on this and other continents. This secret law states that should any creature whether human, animal or magical appear from the world of the artifacts, the country that such creature appears in, will be responsible for it's extermination. According to that rule, you should've been killed the moment the solders of the artifact corps appeared in that small unnamed village."

"It's not an unnamed village," Mike now said, "it's name is Martina."

"Yes the village of Martina." Responded the King. "But now I fear the situation has changed, the influx of artifacts has increased over the last 50 years and it is possible that other nations and empires are already employing people from the world of artifacts. In this world of ours we have artifacts from your world, but no people to know how to use them. Knowledge such as yours is truly fearsome. I had a talk with the High Wizard Ocampo. He admitted, that in a single night you advanced our knowledge of the artifacts more than it has in the past 10 years."

The King fell silent for a few seconds.

"Thus I propose a deal. We need you knowledge. And should your knowledge prove useful we need you to also be and become a useful member of the society. So from now on you two are known as Jack and Mike de la Lune, the Knight-Errants and bastard children of the former High King."

"Let me understand this?" asked Jack, "we are to be knighted?"

"Yes, in a certain regard. Thankfully the former Emperor was a notorious womanizer with an uncountable number of lovers from peasants to high nobility. So his bastard offspring are numerous as well and appear from time to time. In reality the Knight-Errant is an empty title, it is the lowest of the low, it is only give to keep the bastards out of trouble and give them some sense of worth and a modest pension so they would do something useful with their life, instead of venting destructively their anger of not being recognized."

"My king," Mike started with a quiet and fearful voice, "could I not be a Knight-Errant? I have a family in Martina, and their reputation will be damaged if I am revealed as a bastard of the king."

"Your majesty, if I may," Jack interrupted, "I have nothing against the status of Knight-Errant, but could it be that he is to be my servant?"

"Well, we can certainly do that. It is not uncommon for a Knight-Errant to have a gentleman's gentleman. And I actually prefer to not award two many Knight-Errant titles at one time. Despite being empty it is still high-visibility, and unlike nobility, is under Imperial protection."

"So I assume there is a reason why I need a title?" Jack asked.

"Yes. In this world, birth is everything. And from now on you are enrolled in the 11th Royal War Academy, also know as the Hammerhead. This is so you could learn how to function as a member of our society. The secondary reason is that this way we can keep you in check." the King smiled in a curious way, "I've learned that nothing disciplines a person more than being among blade-happy children learning to kill each other.

Also, based on your meeting in the catacombs last night I am announcing the reshuffle in the Swordfish. While openly you are attending the Hammerhead Academy as students, in reality in secret you are the first members of the Section 8 of Swordfish and its Triple-R division."

"Triple-R?" Jack asked.

"Recon, Retrieval and Research. As you saw, thus far we've sent a whole platoon of soldiers and a squad of mages, because we did not know what we were dealing with. Now we can send you and cut down on other personnel. Also Scribe Arandas has researched your artifacts for decades in secret, now we can vitalize and accelerate his research."

"I have but three questions," said Jack, "When do we start? Can I have my guitar back? And who to talk to about getting back to my world?"

"You start right away. The Hammerhead accepts new recruits all the time. Your qi-tar will stay here, in the catacombs. About your world.. I think I will let Ocampo look into that. You can also direct all your other questions to him. I now have a meeting to go to."

Un-gallantly the king stood up and left the room. His magic defense squad followed him. Soon after a team of soldiers removed the throne and carried it away too.

"So you brats thought this was the throne room in the capital?" asked the old court wizard in a sinister voice. "No. Until yesterday this abandoned castle was a secret artifact storage. From today on this will belong to Section 8. And it has to remain no less secret. Of course by the order of the king and scribe Arandas you two are to have a permanent access, day or night. Though I myself prefer to keep you as far from here as possible."

"What about Hammerhead?" Jack asked, "where is that located?"

"About 5 hours on a horse from here," the wizard responded. "This status as a Knight-Errant and position at the prestigious school may seem like benefits, but they are not. Do not misunderstand me: you two have become the property of the kingdom of Mittheim. Your knowledge makes you a living weapon of unparalleled danger. Thus we keep you in a setting where you can be quickly and efficiently neutralized should you become a threat, or attempt an escape. Your privilege is also the extent of your freedom, do not forget that."

"Does it mean I cannot go home and tell them that I am okay?"

"No, not in the foreseeable future." the wizard answered, "however your family will receive a letter explaining that you've been accepted into Hammerhead."

"Will you be at the academy?" Jack asked.

"No," Ocampo responded, "I will be leaving for the capital with the High King."

"At least that's good," said Jack.

"But I will be here with you!" the old scribe with long white beard and green eyes arrived.

"I have nothing against you, old man!" Jack shouted back, "I actually prefer you to him."

"Then we are in luck," the old scribe reached them as Ocampo was leaving, "my name is Günther Arandas. We will be working together from now on."

"Could you start by explaining a few things?" Jack asked.

"What do you wish to know?" scribe Arandas guided them to a nearby bench at sat down.

"Firstly about Swordfish."

"Swordfish is a code name for His Majesty's Secret Research Academy. It has 8 sections dealing with different, but mostly magical research. It was established by the previous Emperor before he was elected into his position so that some of the forbidden magic that is not as dangerous as the legends have led to believe could be used for the good of the country. At least in the future."

The look on Jack's face already told him what his next question was.

"There is a silent arms race going on in the world. Not just your artifacts, but also regular, magic, forbidden magic, magical artifacts and even powers and forces we cannot sufficiently explain. There are the Empires of this continent, kingdoms, that make up these empires and an uncountable number of sects which pursue magical and martial cultivation. We are hoping this arms race and thirst for new and dangerous knowledge is only for the advancement of the world, but the buildup itself is dangerous."

"There more there are, the more there is a chance that the items or knowledge fall into wrong hands." Jack said.

"Exactly. And espionage into other countries suggests that with your arrival we now have a chance of catching up to the others."

"The King explained that Knight-Errant was an empty title and he doesn't want to award it to too many people at once. Just how many Knight-Errants there are?"

"I don't know the exact number, but in the Hammerhead alone there are already 48 Knight-Errants as students. So you will be the 49th. Other schools may have similar numbers."

"One last thing for now." Jack continued, "where do artifacts come from? Or rather, how do they get here?"

Old scribe's eyes began to shine as soon as he heard the question, "that is an interesting question. You are asking about way back home, right?"

Jack nodded.

"Well, that’s a question I should actually put to you, young man. How did you get here? Where did you come from?"

"I can't remember," Jack sighed. "It seems like I should remember, but I can't. It's like I've forgotten something really important."

"When something comes to you, come to me. We may yet figure out how you got here and maybe a way to get you back there."

"Yes, sure," Jack turned away and walked towards the hallways.

"Young master," the scribe addressed him once more, "before the night falls, you two should get settled into the Hammerhead. It is better to start as soon as possible."

Jack walked onward without saying anything.

Mike wanted to follow him, but the scribe grabbed his hand and looked sternly into his eyes.

"Don't," the old man said, "you might feel that your situations are similar, both of you being ripped away from the life and world you've held dear and familiar, but you would be wrong. His is a much more.."

"I know that!" Mike replied, "it isn't about that. I know our situations are different, but that’s not because he's from another world. Its because he is a different person. He was put in an impossible and unreal situation and he fought for the best outcome possible, he fought for me while I just sat there and resigned. That's the only difference."

Mike stepped into the corridors and found an open door at the far end of the hallway leading outside. He followed it and arrived at a large balcony overlooking the dead forest that surrounded the decrepit castle. Jack was there, leaning on the balcony. His black short-sleeved shirt flapping in the wind, his dark leather jacket folded neatly on the balcony wall.

"At least the sun and the wind feel the same, no matter the world." Jack said without turning around.

"I'm sorry this happened to you."

"Don't be," Jack responded, "you did not cause it. Besides, I'm still not completely sure that I am here. I've slept but half a night here. On a car seat. I could still be dreaming, I could still have lost my mind. Maybe if I jump off here and die then I wake up. But my fear is that if I don't die I might break my neck and end up being unable to move."

"That is not an issue. This world has magic that can heal all injuries. Even grow back lost limbs, though it is really expensive. And painful."

"So this world has magic.." Jack repeated quietly.

"Hey, what's that?" Mike noticed something.

"What?"

"That drawing, on your arm."

Jack looked down at his tattooed right arm.

"It is a tattoo. Essentially ink injected under the skin to form a picture. It stays there for your whole life. Surely there must be cultures in this world, which do such things."

"Maybe. But we have magic so usually there is no need to do such intricate work, unless.."

"Unless?"

"Unless it is a part of a ritual." Mike continued, "what is it a picture of?"

Jack took off his shirt, revealing the whole tattoo. An open mouth at the wrist, a long trailing neck encompassing the arm, a large wing on the pectoris and a similar one covering half his upper back. And a tail cutting across his upper back with its tip touching the left shoulder.

"It's a dragon!" Mike said in a surprised voice.

"Yes, it is."

So, you have dragons in your world too?

"Yes, we do," said Mike, "but they are very rare, almost mystical."

"Wait, what?" Jack asked, "did I just say that out loud?"

"What's wrong?"

"I think I remembered something. A question somebody asked me."

"While being summoned into this world?" Mike asked.

"I think so," Jack rubbed his forehead, "but I can't remember anything else, just the question."

"There was actually another reason why I came here," Mike began.

"If the old man sent you to bring me to talk about the artifacts some more, then go tell him I'm not in the mood. Not today."

"No, its not that," Mike took a deep breath and then dropped to his knee, "you've saved my life three times in one day, you've saved my family and you've given me a chance for a life i could have never imagined. In response i shall pledge my life to you."

"I have no way of refusing, do it?" Jack asked.

"This is a vow," Mike answered, "not a choice or request for permission."

"Let me then ask you, are you sure? There may come a time, when you will regret this vow."

"There may come a time when I despise you and hate what you've become. But there will not be a time when I will regret this vow."

"Rise then," Jack said, "and live to honor the vow you just made."

Mike stood up and looked at Jack with serious eyes.

"Also," Jack smiled, "the final score in my mind is still 3-1, not 3-nil. If you hadn't asked me to explain how the artifact works to you and not to them, we might not be standing here."

"How is explaining to me any different from explaining to them? Do you have to use simpler language, because I'm a commoner?"

"Explaining to you is easier, because you want to understand it. Explaining to them is more difficult, because with them I can only hope they believe me. Belief is wrought with doubt, understanding is not. You do not doubt the thing you understand, only yourself."

"Yes, that I understand," Mike smiled.

"OK, then." Jack turned his attention back to the wind and the sun.

"We should get going." Mike said, "Hammerhead awaits."