"I don't know. What do you think about the struggle for liberation?" Quil asked.

The three paused. The question looked like a trick question, and Bonnie knew that she had to think clearly. Buckle was about to speak, but she put her hand over his mouth, stopping him. Tum remained silent. He was of the same spirit as Bonnie.

"We are peasants by birth," Bonnie said.

"Where does that put you in this struggle?" Quil asked.

"Fighting for our lives, I think," Bonnie said.

"What if you don't have to fight for your lives? What if you have to fight for something more important than you are? Something like the liberation?" Quil asked.

"Wait a minute," Tum said. "Just hold it right there. You want us to be fighters for the liberation? We should be running for our lives. You should be running for your life."

"Tum is right. We have the knight's money. We should leave before the rebellion boils over," Buckle said.

"Where will you run to? The royal army would be upon you if you go to the peasants' land," Quil said.

"Then we keep going. We can get to faraway lands and away from all the trouble."

"You don't think you would be caught by a slave master and made a slave?" Quil asked. "What about cannibals? What about people that would just kill you for fun?"

"We can protect ourselves," Buckle said.

"He is right," Bonnie said.

"What?" Tum and Buckle turned around to look at her. They both wore the same confusion on their faces.

"He is right. I mean, how long will the money take us?" she asked.

"Far away from here," Tum said.

"Then? What would we do next?" Bonnie asked.

"We will find something," Buckle replied.

"Nobody knows us outside of this city. Nobody would be willing to trust us with their work as we would be complete strangers in lands we do not know and have never been to before. Not to talk of the dangers that would all over us in our journey."

"What do you think we should do then?" Tum asked.

"Quil?" Bonnie turned to the eldest in the room.

"All you have to do is steal a map from the palace," Quil replied.

"The palace? Are you crazy?" Tum asked.

"We have never entered the palace before," Buckle said. "We have no business going there."

"Yet you want to traverse the dangerous terrains outside the safe kingdom of Kora?" Quil asked.

"That is a different thing," Tum argued.

"All you have to do is steal the map. It will show you where the treasure is. Many peasants have pooled resources together. The three of you are going to be very rich after stealing the map. The peasants would make sure of that."

"The peasants?" Bonnie asked. She did not look convinced. In fact, she looked like she was thinking about changing her mind.

"Yes, come," Quil said and led them to a part of the room.

He knocked on the wall till he heard a hollow sound. Before their eyes, he pulled a part of the wall out, revealing a hollow.

"See," he said.

The three crowded around the hole and were met with the glittering and shimmering of precious stones.

"Whoa," Buckle exclaimed.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Where did you get all of this?" Bonnie asked.

Tum was struck dumb and continued staring even as Quil pulled a handful of the stones before closing up the hole. The older youth turned to them and outstretched his hand to Bonnie with the stones.

"What is this?" Tum finally asked.

"Your first payment. If you steal the map, more awaits you. See? You will never be hungry again," Quil said.

"Where did you get this from?" Bonnie asked again.

"You don't need to know. The only thing you need to do is to steal the map from the palace for the liberation."

"That will be dangerous," Buckle said.

"Not as dangerous as this place would get if the royals continue clamping down on the peasants. Make haste while the sun shines."

**

Shear was back at the palace, in his chambers, sitting and facing the fireplace. There were fewer things a person could wish for than superpowers. As he stared into the flames, he wished he could make the flames do his bidding. He had often wondered how it would be to send flames after people he did not like. It would be interesting to see what peasants would think of his power. With a wave, he would send them scampering from wherever they were coming from. The rebellion would be done before it could even start. He would roast a few to make the others fall in line. Roasting the king alive would be his pleasure. He would roast him in public and make the people watch. Fear would be the foundation upon which his own kingdom would be built.

It was for this reason that he wanted the crystal sword. It would give him the power he wanted to quench the uprising and overthrow the king. But the thieves he had been sending to recover the squad were disappointing. They died before they could get to the sword. Apparently, they were not the only people who were interested in this sword. Others have gone for the sword too, and the resulting conflict meant Sheer still was not in possession of the crystal sword.

Someone knocked at the door of his chambers.

"What?" he barked. He was already red in face from thinking too much about the failures he had assigned with such an important task. He did not know when his thought moved from the appreciation of a superpower that he did not have to the annoyance his missing powers brought him. If only he had the crystal sword, the realm would bow to him. He would not stop at the suppression of the peasants. He would move the kingdom farther into other lands and conquer them for himself. The royals would bow to him and swear their allegiance to him or else he would have them killed.

"My lord, you have a message," one of the servant boys said. He was still standing outside the door.

"Come in," the advisor said, trying to regain his composure.

The door was pushed open and the boy walked inside carrying a scroll that was tied and sealed by the police department. He knelt and stretched out his hands to the sitting advisor. Sheer took the scroll and waved the boy away. When he was sure the boy had left, he broke the seal and rolled open the note.

It was written in neat handwriting, perhaps the only thing about the policeman he had on the job to find great thieves for him that was successful. The priest he had visited and threatened was just another type of idiot. They were smeared with failure, and they, in turn, smeared him with it.

Sheer looked at the note, a frown forming on his face as his eyes went through the content. It was more of the same nonsense. The pastor and the police was not helping his cause. It sucked that he had to keep it low-key and away from the king, so he had limited means to punish the ones who were disappointing him.

He flung the note into the fire and looked around angrily. He was alone, so there was no one to witness his tantrum.

"Stupid, stupid people," he complained. "What does it take to find a good thief that would get a goddamned crystal sword? Just one sword, damn it! Not a heavy bag of treasures."

He watched the paper bend over in the flames, burning and dying, and he wished the same thing upon the people making him think too much.

"I will have to visit the prison myself," he said finally. It was the only other option left to him. He would read their history, get in touch with their past lives. If he knew exactly who they were, it would be easy for him to find his thief, the one that would break into wherever this sword was hidden and bring it for him. That was the much he could do. He could not steal the sword himself. He was skilled in the art of combat, lessons which he engaged in secretly and away from the king's intrusive gaze.

He waited till the sun was down, drabbed himself in another robe, and set out for the policeman's post. The police chief would still be at his post now, but the advisor did not care. He had the king's ring, the mark of royalty. There was no door he had tried to open with the key that ever remained shut.

He got on a horse and set off for the prison yard. It was right behind the police station. There, he would meet men who would find a way to get the sword to him. He knew it was dangerous what he was doing, but it had to be done. There was the fear that the men could get the sword and try to claim it for their own. They had no royal blood, so it would be close to impossible, but not impossible.

Through the gates of the palace, the advisor snuck past. He took the back gate where he saw the man he had placed there keeping watch. His name was Saunders, and Saunders could not wait for when Sheer would get on the throne. Of course, Sheer was not mad enough to tell him what he was trying to do, but Saunders often thought about it.

The streets were still filled with people who wanted to sell their wares at night. The horse trotted past the street urchins, moving slowly as it headed towards the prison. The dungeons were at the outskirts of the city as if the prisoners were not human enough to live among others.

The police hall was not filled to the brim with policemen as was usually the case during the daytime, but Sheer had never been here, so he would not know. He walked up to the first man in the place.

"Where is the chief?" he asked.

"Does he know that you are coming?" the man asked.

"No one knows that I'm coming," Sheer replied. "I come when I want."

"Excuse me. Who are you?" the man asked.

"Sheer, the king's advisor."