The pre-sunset rays of Selin finally managed to penetrate the green domes of the foliage, bathing the forest in soft yellow-orange hues. Silence fell over the domain of the vampires. Office workers, along with other visitors and residents of the building they had been in before arriving in this new world, sat in the most secluded corners of abandoned houses.
Just ten minutes ago, the screams of the most curious vampires echoed sporadically. These 'geniuses' were exposing their bare skin and experimenting with the sunlight. After confirming that Selin's rays were lethal to them, the curious bloodsuckers finally fell silent.
George, who had donned his armor again, wrapped himself in a traveling cloak and observed the situation. The former deputy head of security decided not to leave his helpless relatives unattended. A flask filled with deer blood hung from George's belt, and he took a sip whenever being outside became unbearable. He pondered the need to urgently gather his subordinates and bring them to William's side. His immediate superior in charge of security, Benjamin, had gone to Las Vegas with Christopher Kenningston. That left George as the sole leader of six guards assigned to protect the company, plus two guards who worked for the building's owner. Of those eight, only five were completely reliable. George had personally selected, interviewed, and hired them into the team.
The young men had not found their calling in life and had turned to security after the army. Almost all of them had initially considered continuing their careers in the police or rejoining the army. However, attracted by an excellent offer with good pay, they chose to work in the private sector. In half an hour, Selin would finally disappear below the horizon and the recruitment could begin.
Meanwhile, Karl was entertaining his friends in the hunting lodge. After William's group had draped the door with almost all the remnants of the clothes they had brought with them, they laughed uproariously. Karl walked around the house in a hunched posture, his face twisted into a strange grimace, hissing sounds accompanied by spurts of saliva from his mouth.
"Bow to the terror of the night, mortals!"
William couldn't help but smile. After he slit the deer's throat, the crowd went into a frenzy. The hungry vampires pounced on the animals and tore them to pieces.
The face of Serena Morey, who ran to the front rows at the smell of blood, was the reason everyone laughed. Her entire body was contorted into an impossible pose and her eyes darted in different directions. She grabbed Malcolm, who was standing nearby, by the neck and tossed him aside just to get more of the ruby liquid. The image of Morey, a true religious fanatic covered in blood, would remain forever in the minds of all present.
Once the vampires had been fed, though not all of them, for even a herd of deer could not feed three hundred people, William called to his kin to disperse to their homes. He was just in time. Just five minutes later, Selin finally reached their village.
Will gave the remaining two traveling coats to Lucas and one of Harrington's men. These two were to protect the helpless vampires from the sun's rays while they hid in the shade. Initially, they considered sending Arthur or one of the girls along with the barista, but Malcolm, with the support of his people, categorically rejected such a decision. Harrington's group clearly understood that George had already joined forces with allies. They were distinctly uncomfortable with a situation where everyone who could move freely would end up as William's appointees. After a brief debate, the manager waved off the opponents and gave Westwood a cloak to silence the loudmouths.
Will was pleased with his performance. Now everyone who had arrived in the new world experienced firsthand what the memory of blood meant. Until Selin sank below the horizon, the vampires had time to ponder his words.
The atmosphere in the hut was great. Arthur and Rosa sat next to Amelia and applauded Karl. Oliver took a charred stick from the stove and carefully drew something on the floor. William had taken a few steps towards his friend to see his creation when he remembered Richard. It was too quiet. It was usually a challenge to silence this talkative man.
The manager turned his head. Looking back, William always found it difficult to describe his feelings at that moment. A primal, chilling fear that surged from the depths of his soul caused the young man to twist in an unthinkable somersault and fall to the floor.
It all happened in a split second. As soon as Richie, who had been sitting in the corner, came into Will's field of vision, a real stream of flame burst from the lone figure. The fire stretched its twisting tongues toward William. Lying on the floor, the young man watched as the flames hit an invisible barrier and dissipated within a foot of him.
The fire vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Only the lightly smoking and blackened floor remained as a reminder of what had happened. Karl grabbed several pieces of cloth and began to beat on the wooden floor, trying to extinguish the few remaining sparks.
"I'm sorry, buddy, I... It wasn't on purpose!" Richard ran to his fallen friend. "It just happened by itself!"
"Damn it, Richie!" Will was still struggling to catch his breath after the ordeal, feeling as if death had approached, looked him in the face, and deemed him unworthy. "**** **** **** ****"
Catching the moment when the young man took a deep breath to continue his tirade, the man quickly blurted out.
"Sorry! I was just going through the memories of the locals and I was thinking about magic!" Richard, true to his Italian roots, gestured wildly. "I would never in my life intentionally try to turn you into barbecue! I was just sitting here thinking how cool I would look if I could incinerate crowds of enemies with flames from my hands!"
"Stop, I get it. Just stop."
William tried to calm his excited friend, but Rosa was much quicker. A loud slap echoed through the hut.
"You! You! I'm just speechless!"
"Enough!"
William finally stood up, and after his shout, Arthur pulled his wife aside. In a fit of rage, the woman had punched Richie several times, nearly killing her ally. The deer hunt had made it clear that among vampires it didn't matter if you were male or female. Blood gave strength regardless of gender, so even if an opponent was three times her size, trained in the gym all her life, and practiced martial arts, a satiated female vampire would likely decapitate him with a single blow.
"Now, clearly and in order. How did you do that?"
"When you were a kid, did you ever wonder if you had superpowers? You'd sit there doing your homework and suddenly you'd think, 'Hey, what if I was a magician? And try to make a pencil fly or bend a spoon with the power of thought?" Waiting for William to nod, Richard continued. "It's the same here. You visualize the process and really want it to happen."
"Okay, don't do anything yet."
Will walked to the corner where his friend had been sitting and stopped. He raised his hand and focused on the brushwood beside him. A branch flew out of it slowly.
The trail of the fire stream ended in a neat semicircle, with a clear strip between the scorched ground and the unscathed part. The branch drifted slowly in that direction, crossing the line and falling limply to the ground.
William sat down on the same spot he had been standing. He needed all the information he could get. He sifted through the memories of the locals one by one, digging deeper and deeper into himself. Eventually he began to sink into a dense stream of information.
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"Commander! Commander! Come join us!"
"Look at you youngsters. Just don't hit the booze too hard; we're going home after lunch tomorrow."
Rollo walked through the camp lit by the fires. The old centurion was in no mood to sit with the soldiers tonight. He made his way to a particular tent at the edge of their camp. Count Ember and his cousin had set up a bivouac for the weary warriors. A major battle had taken place just hours before, and the soldiers needed to rest. The mood was jubilant, as it usually was after a glorious victory.
Baron Mirid's army was in the neighboring kingdom of Avalor. The kingdom was on the brink of a massive civil war. For ten years, two great dukes had been unable to share the mouth of a river where their territories met. The ruler of Avalor had repeatedly offered his vassals the chance to draw a line in the water and end the conflict. But neither side would agree to such terms.
The Weir River ran through the entire continent and emptied into the Great White Sea. It served as a waterway for a large number of cargo ships bound for the southern overseas lands. It was also used by sailors returning from long voyages, their holds filled with silk, spices, and other exotic goods.
Access to the sea was controlled by the Crown, but the currents there were very strong, and there were never enough docks for the huge number of ships. Twenty leagues upstream, where the River Don flowed into the River Weir, was another estuary perfectly suited for a river port.
Such a coveted piece of land, which promised enormous revenues from tolls and supplies for the sailors, became the cause of the conflict. The king, realizing that the dukes could never settle the matter peacefully, allowed the vassals to fight a single battle, the winner of which would gain the territories.
The sovereign imposed several conditions. The dukes were forbidden to involve other nobles of the kingdom in the battle, as well as to hire magicians of a rank higher than the third circle. All these rules were designed to minimize the losses among the people of the state.
Almost everyone was convinced that the king had decided to give the mouth of the river to Duke Bans, who was considered the richest man in the land and had recently given his only daughter in marriage to the crown prince. With vast resources at his disposal, he had no trouble assembling a mercenary army twice the size of his opponent's. However, Duke Gard somehow managed to gain the support of Count Ember and his cousin from the neighboring kingdom of Solarion.
Rollo didn't know the details of the deal, but rumor had it that the Earl and Duke Gard had decided to be related by marriage. This was strange, since the Earl had only a seven-year-old daughter, and his next legal heir was his cousin, who was nearly twenty years his junior.
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Rollo saw the assembled nobles arguing heatedly after the battle, and Baron Mirid stormed off to his tent, red with rage. The old warrior paid no attention. It was dangerous for commoners to meddle in politics. Solarion was already in turmoil, ruled by a regent instead of the six-year-old king.
For the moment, Rollo's mind was on something else entirely. He had finally reached his destination. A yellowish light, similar to that of lighted candles, seeped from beneath the canvas covering the tent entrance. "May I enter?"
"Is that you, Rollo? Come in, don't be shy."
The tent was a bit of a mess. Books were scattered here and there. The room was lit by a small ball of fire floating in the air a few feet from a young man. The old warrior bowed slightly to his interlocutor. The man's name was Saur, and he was an 'Occamist'.
"Forgive the intrusion, but I have brought some fine Torkan wine."
"Old fox, are you trying to bribe me with liquor from my homeland?"
Saur laughed heartily. The two had known each other for a long time, but this was the first time that Rollo had fought so closely alongside an 'Occamist'. This time, Baron Mirid had assigned Saur to the centurion's units. Their task was to be the first to engage the enemy formation and break through the shield wall. Normally, such a mission would result in heavy casualties for the attackers, but this young man made it easy.
Just before the collision, Saur lunged forward and waved his hand. A defender's shield was torn from his hands and flew several meters into the air, leaving its owner defenseless. In the next moment, the entire enemy line seemed to be in chaos. Warriors fell, tripping over their own feet, and their weapons refused to serve them, bouncing away as if touched by an invisible force. Saur, standing at the center of the maelstrom, seemed calm. Behind the Occamist, five or more fireballs appeared and immediately raced toward their victims.
When the dust settled, there were no obstacles in Rollo's path. The enemy formation was shattered so quickly and unexpectedly that even the most seasoned warriors in their ranks were stunned. The centurion quickly gathered himself and led his men into battle. They split the enemy unit in two, and to the left came Baron Mirid himself with his retinue. Part of Duke Bans' left flank had been encircled at the start of the battle, and that was the deciding factor.
"Your abilities... they border on magic."
"It's not magic, Rollo. It's an understanding of space and the ability to control it. We 'Occamists' learn to see the world differently. Our power comes from knowledge and will, not from some mysterious incantation."
Rollo set the bottle of wine on the table and poured two cups.
"Whatever it is, I'm glad you're on our side. To victory!"
After draining his goblet, Saur looked intently at his companion.
"Indeed, Torkan wine. This is the first time you've come to me after a battle."
"The first time we fought side by side."
"That is true. You didn't just decide to visit me out of the blue, did you? Speak up, what do you need?"
Rollo hesitated slightly. He had seen magic before. He had met Occamists before. But this was the first time he had fought alongside one. He always had many questions about mystical powers, but dead enemies make poor conversationalists. Besides, his curiosity was overshadowed by the joy of having survived an encounter with a mage.
"Tell me about magic."
"It would take more than a year to enlighten you. And, Rollo, you have no aptitude for it."
"I know, not a drop of mana in me. But you have almost none either, so how do you do magic?"
"Well, for starters, do you know what Occamists are?"
"People who can't accumulate mana but still cast spells."
"That's not quite right. In fact, we don't accumulate mana, which means that spells are also beyond our reach." The red-haired Saur refilled the glasses, a hint of melancholy in his eyes. "Sit down; this is going to be a long story."
As the men took their seats, the man continued.
"You see, Rollo, mages are usually divided into certain types. Among them are the elemental mages-mostly of fire, ice, and earth. There are also more 'exotic' ones, like shamans, who have power over animals, changing them to be completely obedient to their will. Or necromancers, who do the same thing, but with 'dead material'. The 'war machines' created by both shamans and necromancers have immense power, but require a great deal of energy."
"I know, but they are very rare and difficult to encounter in battle."
"Rare, but possible. God forbid we ever meet an Archmage. I once saw a battle with Luis of Torkan. Not just 'fire arrows' flew across the field, but massive 'fireballs'; 'fire rain' poured down in several places; a few enemy units were incinerated in a 'firestorm'. The enemy losses in the first minutes of the battle exceeded several thousand men."
Rollo sighed heavily. Archmages are gods of the battlefield. Unfortunately, there was only one such wizard in Selin, and he never left the palace. Saur took a sip of wine and continued.
"But in the end, it's the people who categorize mages. The foundation of all mages lies in the accumulation of mana, which they transform into the energy form they need through spells. That's why any mage can throw fireballs or raise the dead if he or she has studied the basics of another school of magic. Occamists, however, are different. We can't do what mages do. But our great god Selin, and may his sister be damned..."
"Glory to the sunlike!"
Rollo interrupted his companion, crossing his index and middle fingers. He touched the line where his hair ended and ran his hand down his face to his chin. Saur nodded and repeated the gesture after his friend.
"Selin gave us a special ability. You know that every human being has a soul, right? But what many people don't know is that souls are different. How can I explain it to you... You know how a piece of wood and a piece of stone of the same size have different weights? It's the same with souls. When people are born, their souls have different ‘weights’. As they grow older, that weight increases more and more. If you're lucky enough to be born with a heavy enough soul, it will eventually become so massive that it will affect the mana around you. Depending on how heavy your soul is, the area of control, which extends in all directions from your body and takes the form of a sphere, will vary. Most of the time the distance is between half a yard and three yards. The first ruler of Solarion made history as the only Occamist with a sphere of more than fifteen yards.
Rollo sighed deeply. Every warrior dreamed of having abilities like Saur's. To face an Occamist on the battlefield was to be envied. One reason the centurion rarely met his companion was a single question he was afraid hear to answer. But now, after a bottle of strong Torkan wine, he finally dared to ask.
"Do I have a chance to become an Occamist?"
Saur looked at the warrior and closed his eyes. Rollo felt as if dozens of invisible hands were touching his being.
"I am sorry, my friend. The weight of the soul and the speed of its condensation are determined at birth. At your rate, you'd cross the minimum threshold in about eighty years."
Rollo blushed slightly and stood up abruptly. Not allowing the feelings of frustration, envy, and hurt to take control, he bowed to Saur. The Occamist nodded and turned away; it was not the first time he had experienced such a reaction. His companion would need some time to recover.
Rollo left the tent and walked quickly to his bed. His last thoughts before falling asleep were, 'If I hadn't asked, I wouldn't have lost what little hope I had. My father was right when he said that some questions are better left unanswered.'
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"Is Rollo's last name Nietzsche, by any chance?" Richard played with a small lightning ball that formed in his hands. "No kidding, does that mean our souls have their own density and mass, and when they cross a certain threshold they get something like a gravitational field?"
"Richie, where did you learn such clever words?" Karl looked at the wall. While William explained what he had found in Rollo's memories from ten years ago, the man had drawn a map of the area from the memories of a local. "You know what I noticed while I was drawing? The more I use the power, the shorter its range becomes. It's not very noticeable with light telekinesis, but the changes are there."
"Let's test it now." Rosa, who had been playing with a flame in her hand, forming it into various animals, sent a flaming tiger towards the fireplace. The magic disappeared only half a yard away.
"I have a hypothesis, but it needs to be tested," William rose from his seat. "Rosa, remember the distance at which the fire disappeared from you. Try it again after drinking blood. I think the difference will be significant."
"I'll keep that in mind." The woman watched Amelia, who was busy casting spells on tattered clothing. "I think the problem of an outfit to meet the natives is solved. If we transform the remaining cloth like this, no one will ever recognize her."
"Then you can finally cover up, since Arthur sometimes looks at us sideways." Richie spread his arms. Arthur turned his head to him and raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, come on, it's hard to talk to people when you're looking down."
"Honey, let the boy look, when else in his life is he going to see something so beautiful?"
After Rosa's words, Amelia giggled. The girl was gradually recovering from the shock, and after the deer hunt, she was noticeably more confident.
"Nobody's dressing yet," Arthur turned away from Richard. The married man looked as if he wanted to burn the gossip with a glare. Given his new Occamist powers, this could end badly. "Only William should wear clothes. Among us, the bare-skinned, it's like a symbol of status. The chiefs of the different tribes stood out, with all sorts of feathers on their heads and whatnot."
"I am not vying for the position of tribal leader," William immediately clarified his position. "The burden of power is not for me. No personal life at all. Can you imagine how much work I would have to do? I've always been amazed at people who can't do without executive power."
"If you take a broom, sweep. You'll have to accept it for now. More than half the people here are employees of your company. They know you and respect you," Rosa raised her hand, interrupting William who was about to argue. "If they didn't respect you, you wouldn't have been able to have a second meeting. So accept it."
"She's right," Arthur nodded. "For now, the choice is limited. It's either you, George or Malcolm. George is also respected, but he's busy with his usual duties."
"My husband is also suitable, of course, with more than enough management experience," Rosa put her hand on her lover's shoulder. "But that would require a campaign and publicity. You understand. So accept it, Will, for now you're the only candidate. We'll see from there."
"Long live the night!"
Lucas entered the cabin. He tore off the makeshift canvas door, revealing the forest plunged into darkness behind him.
"Malcolm was already stirring things up, starting to gather people. If I were you, William, I'd get to the village quickly."
The manager clenched his fist. Not a moment of peace.
"Richard, explain the new information to Lucas."
"What's happened already?"
"Everything is fine, boy. Now I'll show you how a regular barista can become a real Jedi," Richard raised his hand and telekinetically pulled the rag out of his interlocutor's hand. A shocked Lucas looked at William in confusion.
"Explain properly," the leader glared at Richie. "Arthur, come with me. Take George aside and explain the situation. The rest of you go hunting and get some blood for us. I'm thirsty after playing with magic. And Rosa, don't forget to test my theory."
"A born leader who repeats everything several times. You might as well ask me to summarize the task in your own words."
"If I think you haven't grasped the essence, I'll ask." William paused in the doorway. "I'll go to the village, and you all be careful. Take weapons, just in case. The night is not only our time, but the goblins' as well."
George looked tiredly at Harrington. The deputy director had climbed a tree that Will had cut down and was gathering a crowd around him. The people understood that it was time to discuss everything and had begun to gather in the center of the village even before a scream had alerted them to the meeting.
As Selin nearly disappeared over the horizon, the hapless Ethan Westwood once again ran to his boss's hideout. Westwood made the trip practically every fifteen minutes to report to the chiefs sitting in the shade about everything that was happening in the village. The fact that there were no significant events didn't matter to the leadership. But Ethan didn't complain. He liked to hide from Selin's rays every chance he got. Unlike George, he didn't have a vial of blood to reduce his exposure to sun. And unlike Lucas, Westwood didn't dare to ask the deputy head of security for a drink.
Now Harrington stood with a perfectly straight back and proudly raised his chin. As the last of the vampires finally joined the now customary gathering, Malcolm resumed his machinations.
"My dear friends. Compatriots. Like you, I have had time to assess all that has transpired. I believe no one will now deny that we have indeed acquired certain supernatural abilities."
The crowd fell silent. For the time being, the Deputy Director stated the obvious, which everyone already understood.
"Since William and his associates, like George, who bravely walked through this wild forest in search of help for us, proved to be truthful in their words about blood..." Malcolm paused dramatically, "then perhaps our young manager's words about another world are also true."
George tensed. When Harrington starts praising someone other than his cronies, it usually does not bode well.
"But we need hard evidence. This is too important a question to take them at their word. It would not be an exaggeration to say that our very survival depends on this information!" Malcolm pointed at George. "This brave man, who has risked his life for us, knows where to find what will reveal the truth. To leave no doubt about our situation, we are simply forced to ask our brave benefactor for help. To ensure that this is not Earth, we must all drink the blood of the natives."
image [https://i.ibb.co/WWkdZHd/Saur.jpg]