"You were documenting the revolution twenty years ago, Lycon, were you not?" Fake asks. "I would like to have a closer look at it."

"Are you going to be the next one to want it destroyed?" Lycon asks cautiously. "If that's the case, you won't be seeing it anytime soon."

"You still cling to a task given to you by a vanquished god..." Fake sighs. "No, I do not intend to destroy your work. I have other plans for it."

"That vanquished god might have been my enemy, but at least he gave me a purpose." Lycon states, turning to face fake. "Axsel, I don't know if you have realised yet, but my perception of time differs from yours. Without a goal I would slowly degrade into a mindless husk. Would you send me to die already! Two thousand years has been too much for my simple soul to bear."

"I will not kill you, Lycon." Fake states, smiling. "I find your company much too pleasant to do so. Who else would I talk to? Ojor? To do that I would have to cross the interplanetary plains and spend a tedious amount if time traveling through those windy fields. Now, please hand me that book so I may inspect it."

"For your amusement!" Lycon yells. "I spend my days rotting away for your amusement!"

"I need you for humanity!" Fake says in a more serious tone. "With your capabilities of perceiving the material realm, I can shape my plans for the Pentilians. Your book is also part of that plan. Please just hand it to me."

"Fine then." Lycon says, sitting down into an appearing chair. "I will do my part for humanity. However, after we finish, you have to promise to end my existence. My mind has reached its limit..."

Lycon materialises a book out of thin air and hands it to fake.

"I can agree to that." Fake says, reaching out to grab the book.

"What do you plan to do with it anyway?" Lycon asks.

"I plan to use it to liberate humanity from the island of Oliron." Fake says with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Like when you unleashed Goblins on Oliron to disrupt Arthfael's control and send the human society in chaos?" Lycon asks with an accusing look. "I really hope it doesn't compare to that act..."

"It was necessary to achieve a free humanity." Fake defends.

"Humanity won't see it that way." Lycon says.

"How would they discover it, though?" Fake says, grinning. "I hope that the book does not mention my direct involvement."

"I'll remove it..." Lycon says with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I'll help you reconquer the cities I lost. Lying to humanity is a small price to pay for that goal."

"Well said." Fake says, the second phase of his plan slowly taking shape.

"Men!" Avon yells. "Prepare yourselves. We need to assume that the natives of this land are extremely hostile towards us. We need to confirm this however, so do not engage in combat until we are certain of their intentions. Now get ready!"

"Why even bother seeing if they are peaceful towards us?" Morgan asks. "They struck first."

"We still can't assume that everyone we meet there is hostile towards us." Avon responds. "For all we know this was a rebel faction seeking war between humanity and the Pentilians."

Morgan looks displeased but turns back to his crew.

"Prepare to dock!" Morgan yells. "We are still making water. We have no time to waste!"

The men rush of to prepare ropes to secure the ship at the docks. Men are running around on the other ship as well, doing the same thing. The decks are extremely cramped with one hundred battle-ready soldiers in formation on the deck. A few gaps in the ranks reveal that not all soldiers survived the attack.

The shore is getting closer by the second. In one minute or so the ship should land. On the shore a large group of large people is gathered. They seem to be cheering as if the great heroes back home.

The ships draw closer and the cheering slowly fades. The Pentilians on the shore seem to realise the horrible truth.

As the ships draw nearer the crowd realises that these are no Pentilian ships. They are to high and lack the iron reinforcements. On the deck tall figure run around. Humans...

"Where is Herklendir?" A Pentilian with a staff yells, making his way through the crowd. "He used my absence to lead some of you to Oliron, didn't he? Bring him to me before he leaves. I strictly forbid it."

"Priest..." A Pentilian soldier starts. "Herklendir left hours ago and now..."

The Pentilian points at the ship.

"Blasphemy!" The priest yells. "When he gets of that ship..."

The priest now also notices the human ships approaching. He falls to his knees, praying.

"Do you think they speak Olirian?" Morgan asks.

"Only one way to find out, captain!" Avon answers, walking to the front of the ship, slinging his helmet under his arm. "Hello! We come to open negotiations between our countries."

"They attacked us." Morgan hisses at Avon. "We can't trust them."

Avon waves his hand at Morgan to silence him.

"We need supplies to repair our ship." He says.

The priest gets back up, still looking shaken.

"Unfortunately our elder appears to be absent." He says. "Allow me to arrange save passage for you and your men back to Oliron in his stead. If your leader would please follow me."

The priest whispers something to a Pentilian who then runs off.

"I will accompany you, but I would prefer to take a few of my men along with me." Avon says.

"That will be fine..." The priest says.

"Jalles, Harrack, Jasmine!" Avon yells. "You will escort me."

Two men and a woman separate from the company.

"Let us off the ship, captain." Avon says, turning to Morgan.

"Are you certain about this, commander?" Morgan says nervously. "I am certain we can't trust them..."

"Let us of the ship, captain." Avon repeats. "I am opening negotiations as ordered."

"Alright then..." Morgan says, turning to a few sailors.

A rope ladder is lowered from the ship as the docks are too low for a plank. Avon turns to Morgan again.

"Morgan, how do you expect me to climb that?" Avon asks.

Morgan looks confused at Avon, until he notices the heavy plating he carries.

"How do you even see out of that thing..." Morgan mumbles as he turns back to the sailors.

"Barely..." Avon mumbles back.

The sailors quickly return with a few thicker ropes and bind it around Avon's armour.

"Morgan, what are they doing?" Avon asks worriedly.

"We are lowering you onto the dock, since you refuse to take the ladder..." Morgan says.

A few soldiers join the group of sailors at the rope.

"May some god have mercy on me." Avon mumbles as he slowly walks to the edge of the ship.

He looks over the railing. The distance isn't too long, but falling could cause some nasty injuries. Injuries Avon cannot afford. He sits down on the railing, readying himself for the worst. The railing cracks loudly, but doesn't break.

"Ready!" Morgan yells as he grabs the rope. "Drop yourself over the edge!"

Avon looks back down. His escort is already on the dock, waiting for him to be lowered. Slowly he shifts his weight forward to prevent the rope from snapping. Slowly the men on the ship lower him. The rope creaks worryingly and Avon worries it might snap. Just as can almost put his feet down on the wood, the rope snaps, causing Avon to fall the final distance. His right leg hits dock first. It crashes straight through. With a loud crack the planks break. The planks under his left foot do hold, however. Jalles and Harrack quickly rush to his aid, pulling him out of the hole.

"Next time I lower you from a ship by rope, Morgan!" Avon yells angrily.

"Are you ready?" The priest asks as he walks towards the group.

"Yes, we should be ready the follow you." Avon says, approaching the priest.

Avon stretches out his hand.

"My name is Avon." Avon says.

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"Please follow me, Avon." The priest says, turning around. "A building should be ready for use by now."

The priest walks ahead without accepting Avon hand. Avon lowers his hand and follows the short humanoid creature. Fully upright the priest might reach Avon's waist. Avon is a fairly tall man, but even Morgan, who is significantly shorter than the average man, still reaches Avon's chest.

The crowd parts a the priest approaches. Some bow deeply and other close their eyes in apparent praying. Few among they look after him hatefully. The humans are simply ignored on the other hand for reasons Avon has yet to understand.

When looking around, Avon notices how similar these buildings are compared to the buildings at the centre of the city of Oliron. They all have the same base of stone, supported by wood at the sides. The higher levels are all constructed using wooden walls.

"Are those really necessary?" The priest asks, pointing at the spears of Avon's escort.

"Just a formality really." Avon lies.

"I see..." The priest says, not fully convinced. "We will enter this building."

The priest stops and turns to the door of the building. A young Pentilian stands in the door, looking nervous.

"Is everything ready?" The priest asks.

"Yes, priest." The Pentilian says nervously. "Can I leave now?"

The priest nods and the Pentilian rushes away. The priest holds the door open and lets Avon through. He then quickly closes it, locking the escort out.

Harrack slams his fist against the door.

"Let us in!" He yells.

"We mean no ill." The priest ensures Avon. "I merely wish to adress you in private."

Avon looks at the Pentilian, then around the room. It is a small room with a table at its centre. Two chairs are placed at the table. To Avon's surprise he can stand upright in the room. At the back of the room is a door, which seems to lead to a staircase.

"Harrack, please wait outside." Avon says, judging himself to be capable of dealing with any threat the old Pentilian can throw at him.

"You can keep that..." The priest says, pointing at Avon's war axe and he walks over to one of chairs. "If it makes you feel comfortable that is."

Avon takes the axe off of his back and places it next to the chair before sitting down. 

"My name is Estaltas." The priest continues, locking eyes with Avon. "I am the priest of this Pentilian province. Let it be clear to you that I wish for you to leave as soon as your ship is restored."

"You must see that as a nation, humanity wishes to expand." Avon says, now opening the visor on his helmet. "Soon humanity will reach a point where more space is needed. More than our island can provide."

"We have seen your people." Estaltas replies in a cold tone. "We do not seek to be eradicated by you, nor by the entity you call your god. I cannot, nor do I want to, help humanity onto the mainland. The protector of Ataria would damn us all."

"Protector of Ataria?" Avon mumbles with confusion. "What do you mean the eradication of your people, Estaltas. We seek nothing of the sort."

"If you will not, your god will..." Estaltas states, anger showing on his face.

Jalles and Jasmine bump into Harrack, who suddenly stopped. The door is now closed. Angrily Harrack starts slamming his fists into the door.

"Let us in!" He yells.

He continues yelling and hitting the door, until Avon yells from inside, telling him to stop.

"What happened?" Jalles asks Harrack confused.

Harrack, a tall and strong man with black hair and a scar across his face turns around to face Jalles. Jalles is a fairly short, but well build boy by the age of nineteen. He has bold hair and blue eyes.

"He slammed the door into my face..." Harrack mumbles. "What do we do now?"

"I suppose we wait." Jasmine says with a taunting voice. "Since one of us couldn't hold a door open."

Jasmine is a girl of the same age as Jalles with brown hair and green eyes.

"Brat." Harrack says, sitting down against the wall. "Stay on guard. We don't know if they will try something. If they do, we need to be ready."

"I wonder how they fight..." Jalles wonders, sitting down next to Harrack.

"I noticed they use spears." Harrack says.

Jalles, Harrack and Jasmine are all armed with a sword and a spear, the equipment of an officer. The soldiers all carry shield and spears. Officers usually also have shields, but Jalles, Harrack and Jasmine left those on the ship as they are very hard to move with.

"They didn't look like soldiers to me though." Jasmine says. "They seem more like workers."

"There is a good change that they might be the same thing here." Harrack states. "For all we know..."

Harrack stops talking when a great light fills the entire sky. After a few seconds of blindness, Jalles yells out in pain. The light subsides and Jalles sits their rubbing his head. In front of him lies a book titled: The Book of Heresy.

Harrack and Jasmine look in amazement as the same book litters the streets and there still seem to be more falling from the sky. Jalles looks annoyed for a few seconds, until he too notices the rain of books.

"What the...?" He starts.

"What the, indeed." Harrack says.

Confused Pentilians start filling the street. Some of them pray, other stare at the books in amazement. Harrack pick up the book that fell on Jalles. It's a thick, leather bound book. Oliron clerics would take years to produce so many books.

A worried looking Pentilian rushes past them and starts knocking on the building's door.

"Priest!" He yells, panic resonating in his voice. "Priest, you need to see this! A sign from the gods."

The door opens and the young Pentilian enters the building. Before Harrack and the others can react, the door locks again.

"Priest look!" The Pentilian says, holding up the book. "They fall from the sky!"

"Calm down." The priest says, glancing at the book. "The Book of Heresy... What an odd title. Hand it to me."

"Yes, priest." The Pentilian says, handing the book over.

Estaltas' looks with concern at the book. Even though he could not say it, he too feared the defeat of Arthfael. Could this book be the horrific answer to that question. Lycon's name glistened in golden print below the title.

Carefully Estaltas opens the book, quickly skipping to the last pages. His eyes widen as he reads.

"Is something wrong?" Avon asks, looking at the old Pentilian.

Estaltas wispers to the young Pentilian, something Avon cannot hear. The Pentilian rushes off, locking the door behind him.

"We will escort you back to your ship, Avon." Estaltas says with a shaking voice. "I fear that the heavens above Oliron have been shaken too much. As priest of the Pentilians I name all humans heretics. You are responsible for the death of the protector of Ataria in some way. Follow me back to your ship, please."

"The repairs cannot be finished yet." Avon objects.

"We will allow you to remain in port for as long as the repairs take." Estaltas says calmly. "You will, however, not be allowed to set foot on land anymore."

Estaltas opens the door, revealing an annoyed Harrack in the doorway.

"Stand down, Harrack." Avon says before Harrack can do something.

"Yes, general..." Harrack says through gritted teeth.

Tension fills the streets now. Hateful glares are cast there way. The old Pentilian priest rushes them along to the harbour.

"Please leave as soon as you can." Estaltas says. "Guards!"

A large group of Pentilians armed with spears rushes to the dock, forming a line in front of the planks. Twenty Pentilians now block the access to Helara.

"What is going on, Avon?" Harrack demands to know.

"I wish I knew, Harrack." Avon says, shaking his head. "I wish I knew..."