Nothing good ever came from being entrusted with something. Be it a possession, a position… or a person. But along the course of life, or whatever the hells his existence could be called, one would eventually come across someone who trusted them enough to leave a value in their hands.

For Fall, that person was the Archknight of Holtsdalr, Brynner Karls.

And Karls was about to die.

Fall had seen some odd magic in his time, the vast world held many of them, especially in the Surface Realms. Though that seemed like too long ago. Not once had he thought about a magic of papers, and never in his life had he seen a person killed by a paper.

The outskirts of Brensfell held more mysteries than the dark ceilings of the Nether. One of those mysteries caused a stir in the Capital and drew out the King's elite knights for a resolve. An odd hideout had been mentioned in the reports, some scavengers and a razed village too. No one had said anything about men in white cloaks, nor them being strong enough to wipe out a whole unit of the best soldiers in the kingdom.

In a field littered with corpses in pristine armours, steaming pools of orange blood and torn pieces of bloodied papers dancing with the hot wind, the only signs of life were Fall, kneeling on the dirt with a dying Karls in his arms. And four other men in white cloaks surrounded by a calm circle of his flames.

“You need to leave here,” the Archknight croaked, his dark face stained with blood and pain, but his eyes a never dying flame of resolve. “His Majesty needs to know of this…”

“You're coming with.” Fall hoped his intentions came across. The Archknight could probably still be saved. But even he knew only a strong type of healing magic found only in Arkos could save an injury grave as the hole in his chest. “I can't hold this, not in my position,” he made to return the necklace given to him, but Karls only pushed his hand back, pressed the pendant to his chest.

“Regardless, the insignia will give you an audience. This matter is grave, Iskar. The whole kingdom is in danger–” he fell into a coughing fit, blood spattering from his mouth.

Fall waited. It was all he could do for the man. The words people tend to say in their last moments were mostly meaningless rambles, but some of them were an exception. Karls had only one thing in mind it seemed, and that was making sure Fall got to the Capital safely. His soul had all but left his body now though, the unique colour that once painted his body now faded to lifelessness.

“The fate of the kingdom…” with the last of his strength, the Archknight closed Fall's fist around the pendant, “lies in your hands…” and his eyes went glassy, body limp.

Fall got to his feet, dusted the dirt of his armour. Something might've stirred in the hearts of those unaccustomed to death. He wondered what that felt like, to have a heart. But a guard was meant to fulfill their duty, and Karls left him with a mission. He looked at the pendant in his hand, the metal five-leaf clover adorned with rubies passing a unique warmth to his skin.

Then his gaze fell on the humans trapped in his circle of flames. They'd been glaring at him the whole time, a bit of a surprise how they hadn't already bored a hole in his body with those eyes tinted with hatred, apprehension and fear. The one who seemed to be the leader amongst them, that had been so brave–or foolish if you will–to try and dispel the fire, now stood before the rest, half of one hand reduced to smouldering ash.

“You monster,” the human hissed, voice dripping with venom, “what are you?!”

“You can call me Fall.”

“You could have easily killed us and saved your team…” the one who spoke next had fear evident on his face as he cowered behind their leader. He shrank further the moment their eyes met.

“Is that so?” He cocked his head, casted his gaze on his team. All that was left of them were soulless bodies, now food for the scavengers. They could be right. What had he even done in this fight? “I tend to forget who I am, sometimes… you understand that, don't you?”

They didn't. Their faces scrunched further in confusion and rage as they glared, as if they could never comprehend what kind of a person he was. Many tended to have this look whenever he spoke like that. Karls might have been the only person who'd tried to understand. He'd nod with a smile, despite his evident befuddlement.

But it was good they weren't like Karls. They were the ones who killed him, they probably wouldn't do that to someone like them. “The Archknight said you were a threat to Holtsdalr.” They didn't answer, and a long pause stretched between them.

“That isn't good. I live here. So you die.”

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They probably expected him to do something with his hand for they flinched as he raised it to scratch his head. But he simply turned and walked away, pondered how he'd find a quick ride to the capital, with their rides long dispersed during the skirmish and likely already stolen.

Right. He hadn't told them the fire would enlarge and explode overtime, engulfing them whole. But that wasn't entirely necessary, was it?

***

Deeper into Brensfell from the edges of the city, there were quite a number of settlements. None of the ones he'd came across had rides though. Rest hours were soon coming to an end, and people were already out and about, farmers going to their farms, welders resuming their work, all of them commuting on feet.

He might be lucky to come across a Conjurer, the rare few nystans who could summon beasts from dirt. But he might as well be hoping for it to rain in this Realm, than to expect to come across one in a place like this. Most of them tended to flock to the Capital to make a living, or a name for themselves, or both.

The small village he found himself at seemed to value commerce, for the majority of buildings in view were stalls, each selling all sorts of things from fresh fruits to uncanny services. His plan had been to ask around for a ride but it seemed he could narrow his search down to the few shops that could know something.

The first stall that sold metal trinkets and contraptions had shaken their heads, unable to help. The next fruit shop directed him to a merchant’s shop, who'd then directed him to a small and rather unnoticeable stall isolated in the part of the market that had the fewest people. Nothing stood out about the shop, just a simple metal block with a wide enough opening and no signboard or name at the top.

He'd have turned around and continued his search elsewhere but the merchant exuded honesty when he'd claimed the netherman in that shop was the person Fall sought. So he went to the front and knocked on the side of the shop.

Inside was dark, almost looking empty, but a voice emerged from the darkness and confirmed otherwise.

“Welcome!” A light voice greeted him, followed by an even brighter face bearing a wide grin. “Always good to get a custo–Oh!” He seemed to recognise the armour on Fall’s body for his eyes grew wide in surprise. It somehow only heightened his glee. “Quite rare to see a knight of the King's Body around here!”

“Could say the same to you.”

The Conjurer grinned again. A wonder how his mouth could stretch that wide. “I make good profit around here. The bigger customers, like you here Sir Knight, aren't much a rare find.” His curly mass of hair hid his horns, made him look almost like a human save for the slits below his eyes.

“I need a ride to Brensfell,” he cut to the point, a bit of urgency rising in him after having wasted time searching about. “A fast one.”

“Ah, yes, you seek a Blazer, the fastest nystan horse there is. I can make one for you. It can last you long enough to speed to the Capital and back, no problem!” The netherman leaned on his counter, traced a circle on the metal with his finger, a knowing look on his face. “That will be one gold mark.”

Perhaps Fall hadn't made it clear that this was an emergency, or that he knew how much these services usually cost. Or maybe his bloodied armour wasn't bloody enough to send the message. Whatever the reason, this man sure had guts to be charging a knight this high for a simple conjuring.

But he didn't complain. Not much came from haggling prices. Not like he had much use with the money anyway. He drew out one gold coin from his pocket and gently placed it before the man.

“Get to it.” He met the man's smiling eyes with indifferent ones.

The Conjurer chuckled as he withdrew the coin into his own pouch. “A man of few words, I see. Pleasure doing business with you.” He opened the small door at the other side of the shop. Fall only just noticed how tall he was as he ducked out of the doorway and nodded to him, all smiles and goodwill.

***

As he'd expected, conjuring up a beast didn't take even up to a minute for the netherman and soon, Fall was already speeding through the familiar shortcut to Brensfell, the small village now far behind him.

With no sun to indicate the start of a new day, the dark clouds roamed idly in the ceilings, as they would at any other time of the day. And with his helmet lost in the battle earlier, he could only narrow his eyes against the breeze slapping his face. The Blazer made no pause since the start of their journey, its speed only increasing by the minute. At this rate he'd be at the palace in a few hours or less.

Brynner had shown him this route when he first joined the King's Body, about two years ago now. The worst route for any type of ride but still the best to get to the Capital in the case of any emergency, as he'd told Fall. The path had too many boulders, some oddly tall pillars of stones and little pools of boiling lava. Any misstep and he could find himself tumbling into one of those pools. While heat was the norm in the Nether, some things were just too much even for the average nystan.

The ride had grown to a steady blur of his surrounding, the repeated rhythm of hooves meeting earth and the occasional huffs. For long, it went on like that until he caught sight of the towering pikes of the palace towers, standing tall like spears of stone and metal ready to pierce holes in the ceilings. Soon, he'd left the rough road behind and was already past the city gates, galloping through Brensfell’s full and bustling streets.

The outskirts held its usual peaceful bustle, but deeper into the Capital, towards the palace, a new type of chaos sprouted, growing bigger and thicker until the black and deep red blocks of the King's palace was in sight, stained in even darker and deeper fumes of smoke and flames.

In the receding tide of nystan kind, Fall seemed to be the only person rushing towards the palace. Above the buildings, specks of white could be seen, a contrast to the otherwise dark atmosphere of the Realm. He'd recognise those white cloaks anywhere, billowing with the hot breeze as they laid waste to civillians both noble and peasant alike.

The fate of the kingdom lies in your hands…

It might already be too late for that.