We were walking down a familiar street. It was mid-day with cold weather and a strong breeze. Taking a look around, you could see several upper class people mingling and moving about in the streets. Yet in the alleys, you could see people who were shivering, only wearing one layer of clothes.

These people ranged from old to babies, males to females, even one of them was pregnant. The eyes of the rich constantly ignored or darted away from the poor. The ones that acknowledged the existence of the poor looked down on them and snickered.

"My god," Michael had repeated this phrase several times as we walked further and further down the street. Every time he saw people that were particularly worse-off, such as the pregnant lady, he dropped a few gold coins. "This ... this is horrible."

"In order for someone to be rich, a hundred others have to be poor," I said a bit regretfully. It was a grim reminder about societal constructs. You never feel guilty about your money until you see how worse off other people are.

"Isn't there shelters for them? A place for them to stay?"

"At the moment, there's only two and they're at maximum capacity."

"Is no one doing anything about this?" Michael asked as he gestured towards all the people on the streets.

"Use your brain for once Mikey. There's no incentive for people who can help to help. Not to mention the fact that society spits on the homeless."

"And what about you?" He questioned. "You don't see them like that, right?"

"I don't," I raised my eyebrow at him. How bad of a person does he really think I am? "I built the two homeless shelters."

"So you chose to spend your time building a fucking jet rather than helping out the poor?"

"Chill bro!" I exclaimed. His voice was getting more aggressive and making it sound like I was the bad guy. Which I wasn't. I think. "I would've built more, but conservations happened."

He sighed knowing full well the politics that were at work. The people who had the power to make change often resisted it in fear of losing more power. It's only until an insurrection happens that they actually do their jobs.

He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry for snapping at you. I'm just angry at this."

As we were nearing the end of the street, I saw Curiosities and Relics. Taking a quick glance at the window, I saw the shopkeeper sweeping and Andres looking desperate while talking to him.

"Did you know that Andres and his brothers were homeless?" I asked him.

"No, I did not," Michael said while shaking his head from side to side.

"Well now you know," I said with a slight giggle. "I kind of adopted him like a puppy."

"Nice try, but you would only do that if he interests you, not because you care."

"Isn't the what more important than the why?" I defended.

"In this case, yes. Other cases, not so much."

I sighed at his response. We walked closer and closer to the store before finally arriving at the door. My hand grasped the handle and pulled it.

"Hello old, mysterious broomstick man!" I greeted.

"Oh god, not you," He grumbled, not even stopping his task.

"Why are you always so mean to me? I like to think we have a good relationship." I playfully said as I approached Andres. "I'm assuming he didn't agree."

"You'd be right," Andres said before grimacing and shedding a tear. "I didn't even know words could hurt that much."

"What did he say?" I curiously asked.

"He asked if I use my face as a contrace-"

"Okay, no need to repeat those words." He interrupted quickly. I snorted loudly and began to laugh manically.

"I'm stealing that line in the future." I caught a small smirk on his face as his eye winked at me.

"How do you know what that is?" Hanson asked.

"Tell me you didn't know what it was when you were a teen."

"I found out when I was 20!"

My eyes narrowed. "Well you're just special."

I redirected my attention to the shopkeeper. "So what will it take for you to help out?"

"Let me just get this straight. You want me to come to Atlantis to fight in a war that'll end a country in three weeks and result in all their deaths?"

"Pfft, we're not fighting in the war," I said nonchalantly. "We're overthrowing the government. Like a true nationalist except motivated by money."

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"And you're just skipping the part where we overthrow them while staying alive."

"I'll explain the minor details when we get to England."

He shook his head out of disbelief. He finally stopped sweeping and turned to face me. "And suppose I'm willing to help, what do I get out of this?"

"What do you want?" Michael asked. I saw the shopkeeper's eyes instantly snap to him. "And who might you be?"

"Michael Payne, king of England," He said cordially, extending his hand to the shopkeeper. He shook it hesitantly.

"The king?" He temporarily switched his focus back to me. "I'd like to hear about how this happened."

"A story for another day," I replied. "Unless that's what you want in exchange."

"Heh, no." He said. His eyes moved up as if he was trying to reach his brain with his eyes to pull out thoughts. Minutes of silence followed as me and Michael waited apprehensively for his request.

For me, it was a simple matter of entertainment. If he agreed, I'd have something to do for the next week and gain some benefits. If not, oh well, and I just go back to my life.

But for Michael, it was life or death. If he didn't agree, Michael would surely die at the hands of the new regime. However, the bigger difference was between the people in his country. It was the difference between living a harsh life filled with fear or a happy one with freedom.

The stakes were reflected in our faces. While I had a smile, Michael had a blank face. His eyes kept darting around yet never allowing the shopkeeper to leave his gaze.

"I want a sword," He declared after minutes of silence.

I tilted my head. "He's the king and all you want from him is a sword?"

"Well, when you consider it's a sword from the most advanced country, then yes," He snarkily responded.

"Dude, I can ma-"

"That can be arranged," Michael quickly answered as he glared daggers at me. "Are you trying to kill us all?" He asked in English.

"All I'm saying is that I can definitely make a better sword," I responded back.

"Then make it and tell him it was from Atlantis!"

"You know what," I began as I raised up my hands. "I just decided it's too much effort."

"Huh, you're so bipolar!"

"Thanks, it's part of my charm."

He exhaled violently and quickly looked away from me. He was quickly fed up with my antics. Instead, he looked to the shopkeeper. His face was hard to read, being completely neutral and showing no emotions.

"Do we have an accord?" Michael asked.

"Yes, I believe we do," The shopkeeper said while nodding his head slowly. He turned over to look at me while setting down the broomstick. "So, when do we leave?"

A knowing smile crept on my face that reached as far as it could. "We leave right now."

----------------------------------------

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. If you look out the window, you'll see that we've arrived at our destination," I said with my best impression. I'd always wanted to say something like that. But if being reborn in a fantasy world had one benefit, it was a chance to live out your dreams.

"What an ... enlightening experience," Hanson said as the door opened. Me and Michael, being accustomed to how planes work, began to walk out. The rest of them trailed slowly behind and were a bit hesitant before taking the leap off.

Everyone looked at the surroundings in awe as we led the group.

"These buildings," Leo began. "I've never seen anything like these."

"This is a military base. I wouldn't recommend being in awe of it's architecture."

"If this is a military base, I wonder what the city looks like," shopkeeper asked.

"It's magnificent," Andres answered. "A luxury dream for anyone."

All the newcomers looked at Andres. "You've been there before?"

He nodded slowly. "The circumstances were unpleasant but the city was beautiful."

"Too bad it'll be destroyed," I grimly and bluntly said. I saw Michael rub his head. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Sorry man, I let the intrusive thoughts win. It's 87-1 now."

"Are you 87 or are your thoughts?"

"Great question!" I enthusiastically called out while providing no answer. All of them were making little comments about all the rumors that they heard, the things they wanted to do, places they wanted to visit, all small talk.

Me and Michael didn't really add anything to the conversation. We were just leading them through the military base and into a private and secure room. When we got to the door, I typed in the code and it swung open.

This small feature made all their eyes widen. As we all walked in, they were eyeing the door as if waiting for it to do something else. They were partially right as it closed when all of us entered.

"Why is this all the way back here?" I jogged to the end of the room and pulled the whiteboard over to the meeting table. I grabbed a marker and quickly tested it out before erasing it.

"Alright everyone, take a seat," I ordered as I motioned to all the seats at the table. They all slowly took their places.

"We all know why we're here right?" I rhetorically asked. All of them nodded. "Good, so before we start I need to establish two rules."

I began to write the number one on the whiteboard followed by some text. "One, we will draw no blood."

"I'm sorry," The shopkeeper interrupted. "You want to take over a nation without drawing blood?"

I snapped my fingers. "I'm so glad you asked," I said as I leaned on the whiteboard. It was a small lean, not unlike a teacher who is about to give an important piece of life advice.

"Having the support of citizens is paramount for a successful coup d'état. Without their support, there will be no one to back you, no one to defend you in your time of need."

"People want a role model to look up to. They want to support the underdogs, the ones willing to take a stand. It's why fairy tales that involve unconventional forms of justice are so popular, like Robin Hood. We admire him for both his charisma and morals. He's willing to hurt the evil, the rich, the powerful but not the simple, everyday people who face nothing but struggle."

"And that's why we won't kill unless we absolutely have to. We need to be saints in the eyes of the people, or at the very least, people that have had enough."

I let the idea sink in all of them. Like everyone else, they had different speeds at which they process things. Andres was the fastest to process this as he could relate to the struggle. Leo was the least with his pearly white morals.

"And the second rule is to cause as much chaos as possible."

"To divert their attention?" Hanson asked.

"Precisely," I said as I pointed to him. "We need them to waste all their resources."

"And with that idea in mind, we'll begin the plan. It has two simple steps, one which will be executed by you guys and the other will be done by me and Michael."

"Won't splitting up be worse?" Leo asked. "We can't defend each other."

"That's true, but instead of looking for one group containing all six targets, they'll have to look for two groups."

"But before all that can begin, we have to enter the country. Their borders are closed, seas are monitored, and ports are monitored. So how do we get in?"

The Socratic method, developed by Ancient Greek philosopher Socrates, is the basis for many ideas of teaching today. It revolves around a constant question and answering between the instructor and listener. This method ensures that they are actively engaged in the conversation and thinks deeply about it, coming up with their own ideas.

The guy might've been nuts, but he did have some good ideas.

I saw the look on their faces. It was one that was deep in thought, trying to think of a solution to the scenario presented before them. It made me feel slightly warm on the inside like when a teacher sees a student get the right answer.

"How did we get here?" I hinted.

"The air?" Hanson questioned.

"The air," I repeated with a smile. "We'll get in through their airspace."