The Referee
Every day, Johan wanted to wake up with the sunrise. He had arranged his bed by a set of semi-open curtains to gently awaken him, partial shade meant to keep the harshness of the sun away while still attacking him with enough light to bring him to the waking world. Johan was not the kind of man who stayed in bed for long after awakening, and he would jump out of bed to be met with the clothes he had set aside the day before. A man of odd beliefs, he refused the notion of breakfast, and would engage in fencing training as his first matter of the day. Lunch was lonesome by design, engaged with only a fireplace and a book to keep him company. Between that time and dinner, Johan would attend various activities related to his plans of overthrowing the Empire and killing God—having now done both, his plans involved attempting to keep the Empire from rebelling and mastering Rules. Dinner was usually a social affair for him where he put on airs and attempted at impressing fellow noblemen, and was followed by a visit to the theater or a visit to his personal library. The man was extremely particular about going to bed early.
Thus, it became my duty to ruin his schedule.
It was not strictly mandated by the Mandates that I make him suffer in such a way—his punishment for interfering with a sacred duel was simple: to pay back the Principles of Fairness with an interest. For having interfered with a sacred duel, he had to personally give back 365 sacred duels in exchange without missing a day—and were I sympathetic to him, I could have made it less imposing. There was no Mandate that I had to make him fight all those duels once a day. Were Johan a decent man, I would have given him an appointed time every week and we would have a number of duels that day to satisfy the Mandate.
Johan was not a decent man and I did not like him.
It should not surprise anyone, then, that my ultimate goal was to punish him to the full extent of the Mandates.
That particular morning, the sun had not yet risen. It was one-hour and thirty-minutes until Johan would have woken up normally. He was sleeping with a peaceful smile upon his face, as if nothing in the world bothered him at the moment.
I broke through his window with a jump and landed on his bed. He sat up, startled, and stopped at my blade at his throat. “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself,” I gently warned him, “any longer will be considered a forfeit and your punishment will be increased.”
Panic set on his face and his thoughts became clear to me. He wasn’t fully awake, but a single, horrifying thought took over his body and a sheer panic guided him. If I don’t get up right now, everything—everything is going to have been for nothing! For just a moment, in that half-awake state, a horrifying image flashed through Johan’s mind, one that he had not allowed himself to think while awake.
Danner, his brother, dead by his hand.
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO “You’re the best, Johan!” NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO “Thank you for taking care of me…and sorry. I know me being around makes your life worse.”NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO “Don’t say that, little guy. I am glad to help you.” NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO Danner was smiling. “I want to get better one day,” he said, “so I can fence with you. I want to have a real match with you, big bro!” NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO “Big bro…even if you can’t fence again, I - I will get better. I will do what you wanted to! I…I can fulfill your dreams for you! I’m never leaving you! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!
Johan shook his head and banished the thought.
“I am ready!” Johan roared, pushing my blade away and reaching for his own at the side-table. “I—I am ready!” He struggled to roll out of bed under the threat of my blade, falling onto the floor in an undignified fashion. Breathing heavily, Johan stood up with the wall behind him as support and pointed his sword at me. His dignified, puffy white sleeping wear appeared ill-suited for the occasion, and while this would not have bothered most, it bothered Johan severely. “Allow—allow me the dignity of dressing for the occasion, Fair Referee.”
“The Mandates do not ask me to give you the time for such. Today’s duel has therefore begun.”
“Even if the mandates do not ask it of you—I do. Hear my request!”
“I hear it, and I deny it.”
My blade went after him and our duel proceeded for an hour. God or no, he could not rival me, but that was hardly the point. I was not to injure him to the point of keeping him from attending tomorrow’s duel—intentionally, anyhow. But there was no time limit in the duel’s length beyond an intentionally vague rule regarding good-faith interpretation of a real match.
That I was superior was clear, and Johan could have merely yielded by forcefully attempting to break my defenses with a rush of attacks. But his pride would not allow this. Every day, in our duels to 15 points, Johan would try his best to destroy by guard, to try to win against me. And this would last an hour or two every day, without him scoring a single point.
“This concludes today’s match,” I told him. “15-0. Our overall score stands at 1-0. I will be back tomorrow.”
“Should—should I expect you at the same time?” Johan asked through a heavy breath. I—I hate this. It is animalistic to expect a civilized human being to wake up before the sunrise! This creature— “Lord Referee?”
“Expect me?” I laughed. “Johan, you will never expect me.” I gestured at the broken shards of glass around the window my mighty entrance had broken. “Nonetheless, I expect those to be cleaned by tomorrow—show me some decorum.”
Johan nodded weakly and I took my leave.
Despite the commotion, no servants dared knock on the door or check up on their master. They knew what happened to those that made themselves known to Johan. This—this is outrageous. I just interrupted a single duel, to punish me like this is inhuman, it’s—it’s unfair! Johan thought. He rose to his feet, sweating, and drew a deep breath. This serves like morning practice. My day isn’t yet ruined. I should go on about it.
Here, as he undressed himself, he noticed the small wounds I had given him and this gave him pause. Using HP would get rid of those unsightly wounds, but I have a small supply of it now…unless I were to give fuel to Francisco’s old Rule once again…no! That would be pointless. Even with my reserves of Leveling Spheres, it wouldn’t be worth it. He grimaced and pulled his arms through his shirt’s sleeves—he would concern himself with the matter later.
“Your Highness?” Roger asked. “What is your decision?”
“I—what did you say?” Johan demanded, woken up from a haze. “What—what are you asking?” He had continued with his day and attended his daily meeting with Roger, but for a creature of habit such as himself, the small loss in sleep was severely detrimental. Numerous times throughout the day he found himself feeling hungrier than usual, dehydrated, and unable to focus. Now, he had completely forgotten what Roger had said. “Speak, man!”
Roger noticed Johan’s tone and he knew what was the cause—but he did not bring it up. “Many of the Empire’s Provinces have refused to acknowledge you as the rightful Emperor, my lord, for you have not yet won the Battle for the Crown.”
“Estella refuses to fight me—that is not my fault!” Johan cried out. “Those mongrels need to know that they can’t procrastinate forever. Monsters should be attacking their cities right now! They know they can’t hold up their defenses without me!”
“Be that as it may, Your Highness, reason is not always the only determining factor when it comes to decisions of the matter. For those that believe in the sacredness of royalty—”
“Sacredness?” Johan barked. “Royalty is a group of people who maintain their strength throughout generations. That’s all there is to it. I am strong, therefore they should know to follow me. They will follow me, so why waste time like this? Those incompetent imbeciles…have they risen in revolt?”
“No. Only the Terra Inglesa is in open revolt right now. That said, Visboa is late in providing us with taxes. Mayhap a messenger—”
“Damn be the messengers! Let them taste monsters for a week or two, then wait for their taxes to arrive.” Johan drew a deep breath. “It was always within plans that they would need a few weeks to fully pledge themselves to me. It is not a matter for concern.”
“I am of full agreement with Your Highness,” Roger said, voice level and yet the slightest of an edge to it. “Hence my surprise at your words, my Emperor. I merely needed to know what you wanted done about the small protests in Arcadia.”
“Ah.” Johan sank into his chair and drew another deep breath. “Any nobles involved? Troops? Armed men?”
“No.”
“Kill them,” Johan said, waving him off. I need to rest. This has been a horrible day. “But frame them for something first. Have it appear as though they were attacking loyal supporters who were sent to keep the peace.”
Roger nodded without hesitation. No hesitation, of course, for he never intended on following through with those orders. Johan will know if I neglect to frame them, so I will do that much, Roger thought, but instead of killing them we can ship them off to a western territory—Johan will never know what happened there. Valle and the Terra Inglesa might take them as refugees.
It was with great relief that Johan laid down his head on a pillow that night. He went to sleep earlier than usual, anticipating a duel in the middle of the night once more. If I can change my routine, loathsome as this might be, I can adapt. This is a critical time for my Empire, and I will not allow some referee to interfere with it. Despite his lack of comfort, Johan went to sleep in formal dueling attire, his sword, Godslayer, set near him. He was ready to be woken up for a duel.
Thus, naturally, I did no such thing.
Johan woke up before the sunrise in a panic, anticipating a duel, but found nothing. He frowned a few times, waiting an attack that never came and found himself unable to return to sleep. A single drop of sweat dropped onto his pillow and it mystified him. I am not tired, I have not yet dueled—where is the sweat coming from? Nervousness, of course, but Johan would not admit it to himself.
His day went on as normal, and he found himself in one of his meetings. This one was with Sofia, the daughter of the theater director aboard the Arcship—the one whose relationship with her family he had irreparably ruined. Johan had hoped—nay, expected—her to form a strong relationship with him afterward.
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He had tricked her father into choosing one of his daughters to be sent as a ‘gift’ to pirates—a fate that never occurred, of course, for it was merely a cruel trick. However, knowing that your father had picked you over your sister was bound to ruin your relationship with him. Johan had felt this was a good opportunity to divide their relationship and gain influence with the woman, perhaps turning her into a Clara.
Reality had shocked him.
Familial bonds can be stronger than a kinslayer could know. Though their relationship had been hurt, her father had made every attempt to mend it afterward. He stepped down as head of the family and made Sofia into the new head of his territory, making her effectively a City Lord—and begged for her forgiveness every day since. Love had been lost, surely, but hate had not come to that family. Not entirely.
When Johan took over the Empire, vague suspicions took shape in Sofia’s mind and she decided that Johan was more to blame than her father ever was. Some intervention from a wise third-party and some well placed information helped the matter greatly as well. This allowed her to focus her hatred, to keep it from reaching the family she had once been close with. And today, she was meeting with Johan regarding the Arcship.
“My position is clear, my fair Sofia,” Johan said smoothly. “I hereby order the Arcship to assist us with logistics in the war. It will not see combat, of course, but it will be invaluable in blockading sea routes and transporting food for our armies.”
“And our position,” Sofia replied coldly, “is that the nobles of the Arcship do not want to either abandon their houses or to be taken to the frontlines in a war. Such a thought is ridiculous.”
“The Arcship listens to the Emperor,” Johan muttered. “Or should I consider this an act of rebellion?”
“We serve you in war and peace, Your Highness. Opposing an order does not mean refusing to acknowledge your rightful place as Emperor. But of course, it is within your right to attack the Arcship and have us beheaded for treason.” Try it, Sofia thought. You coward. You…I thought you were a good man. A beautiful, amazing man who was going to lead the Empire to a new golden age. But ever since that day…the more I think about it…the more I look into it…you are a snake, aren’t you, Johan? The man had expected her to fall in love with him after falling out with her family. He had not expected her to take over her father’s seat and oppose him with such vigor. “The Arcship is full of Razilian technology, however—it might not have weapons, but its metal will prove hard for the Empire’s wooden ships to conquer. Can the Empire’s best navy take it, especially now that stats have died?”
Another nobleman squirmed in his seat and made a sound. “Your—Your Highness, there is no need for such—Sofia overspeaks when—”
Sofia held her arm to silence him. “We agreed I would be the one negotiating for the delegation, yes?”
Johan’s reputation had spread far and wide as he had wished—and the delegation of Arcship nobles had all wanted someone else to be the one to speak. Having inherited her father’s seat, Sofia was among the most powerful members of that delegation to start with, but her eagerness to be the one to negotiate with Johan herself had gotten her the position quite easily. “Very well. Your Highness, it is within your right to accuse us of treason—it is also within our right to defend ourselves to our last man, however, and if you were to lose the support of so many noble houses, well—”
“Monsters roam the seas now!” Johan roared. Suddenly, he stood up and slammed his fist against the table. “You think you do not need me? That the Arcship can survive without the Empire? Without me?”
This silenced her briefly. Rumors of monsters approaching cities had been growing stronger now, and it was truly a matter for concern. With the Death of Magic, Johan’s ability to continue to increase his stats—as well as his absurd reserve of Leveling Spheres—was crucial. His power was not to be underestimated, and right then he was projecting his power upon them all, making them stand at its shade.
“Well,” Sofia began, softly, “perhaps—”
Here I crashed through the closed window and drew my sword, gesturing it at Johan’s neck and paying no mind to the screaming nobles. They reached for the door, but my magic did not allow them to open it. “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself,” I told Johan kindly.
The nobles looked at Johan in a panic, while the man himself began sweating heavily. This is not good. They don’t know about the Referee, Rules or anything like that. This is not knowledge the public should have. I ought to— “My lord, I am preoccupied at the moment. If you would allow me the dignity of five minutes, I will be glad to engage in our duel.”
“I will not allow it.” I fell into en garde. “Our duel begins now.”
Numerous curses and thoughts passed through Johan’s mind, but I did not allow them the time to surface. Our blades clashed, and for an hour, the delegation of Arcship nobles watched as Johan screamed, desperately attempting to make his blade reach me. You—in front of—you dare? You cretin! As he lost more and more exchanges, Johan’s mind began to shift away from the elegant and into the vulgar. You bastard—you stupid, goddamn lunatic! More and more. YOU FUCKING—
“This concludes today’s duel,” I said, sheathing my sword. “30-0. Our overall score stands at 2-0 in my favor. I will see you tomorrow, Johan.”
Johan said nothing, and stumbled out of the room moments after I did, giving only a vague order for the entourage of nobles not to utter a single word of this to anyone. He noticed, much to his chagrin, that Sofia was watching him leave, battered and bruised, with her arms crossed and a sly smile on her face. Ah…you are not invincible, are you, Johan?
The next day, Johan was watching a play in the theater, drawing deep breath after deep breath. I haven’t had time to breathe, he thought. This is bad for me. I’m an artist, I need time to rest, to relax. At least I should be safe here. The Referee would not dare attack me in a location as public as the theater. I leaped from the ground floor onto his private box, causing many members of the audience to gasp. “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself,” I told him, smiling.
The day after that, it was at night—three hours before the sunrise. Johan had repaired his window, and thus I broke it with a mighty kick to enter it, this time attempting to break it in such a fashion that the glass shards would enter his room. He looked up at me in surprise. “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself,” I told him.
A day later, Johan was eating lunch by himself, feeling at peace. He had managed to find the time to use Fedal’s Heroic Rising ability to make up for the skills he had lost in his duels against me, just when I crashed through his fireplace and pointed my blade at him. It had taken some effort to slide down his chimney, but the resulting face of horror made it worth it. “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself,” I said.
When he was enjoying tea the next day, “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself.”
When he was discussing strategy with Roger, “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself.”
When he was allowing himself a rare moment of reflection on what he had done to get to this point, “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself.”
When he was eating lunch, “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself.”
When he was asleep, “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself.”
Johan aged considerably in those days. His face, though still sporting beautiful features, appeared decidedly less angelic than before, his paleness now highlighted by the heavy dark circles around his eyes. Skin once so perfect even sought-after courtesans had sighed in jealousy and admiration was now damaged by small scars from our duels and red bumps from his stress. Once beautiful golden hair now had been mistreated and was hardly brushed to perfection. He had lost weight, and appeared to breathe more heavily every day.
One morning, he was deep in thought in his bath. Johan was not fond of baths, thinking that they were akin to swimming in your own dirt, and that showers were more dignified. Yet that day his exhaustion had reached such levels he had allowed himself the gesture. I have to keep it together. I still have to negotiate with the Arcship delegation again. These attacks have been interfering with my public image, but their needs for my powers are still there. I should—
I crashed through the bathroom window, knocking glass shards over him. “You have ten seconds to prepare yourself,” I told him.
“Allow me—allow me just a bit of time!” Johan cried out. “This is neither the time nor the place. The bathroom is hardly a fitting duel for an Emperor and a mighty Referee—!”
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “Well, I can allow half of your request.”
“Yes?” Johan appeared relieved. “Very well then! Better half than none! Thank you, my fair referee!”
“You are certain you request it?”
“Certainly!” Johan said, rising from the tub and stretching out his hand toward first his sword, then toward clothes. “I will be most glad to—”
I used Swordsmanship, the Rule of this very world, to smash the ground beneath us with my sword. It was not a careless blow, and I ensured that there was no one standing directly beneath the falling rubble before doing so. In addition, for the sake of fairness, I picked up Johan midair and gently dropped him onto the ground to avoid injuring him before our fight. “I allow you the change in location,” I said.
“What—what?” Johan looked around, fury and concern filling his eyes in equal measures. He was in the throne room, where he was expected to meet with the Arcship delegation soon thereafter.
And they were there.
All eight nobles, including Sofia, as well as a number of guards were watching in disbelief as Johan stood there, unclothed and trembling, holding only a sword. “GUARDS!” Johan thundered. “Fetch me—”
I held up my hand and immobilized them all. No further movement would be allowed in this room. It was permissible to use such magic in case of a punishment like this. “Our duel begins now,” I told him.
Again we crossed blades, but this time the duel was shorter than most. Merely ten minutes long, it was less a match and more a massacre as Johan was overly concerned with his lack of dignity and the crowd watching as he was deftly defeated while in that shameful state. “165-0. Our overall match score stands at 11-0. I will see you tomorrow, Johan.”
I left the room physically but remained watching what followed. No one dared to move or speak for a while, even after my magic was lifted. Nobles and guards alike stood in shocked silence watching the fallen figure of their Emperor in the middle of the room, nude and covered in his own blood, down on his hands and knees struggling to draw breath.
This…this humiliation…I will make him pay for it! Faces ran through Johan’s mind. Faces of people whom he blamed for this. Mine, of course, but also Francisco’s. Valle’s. Carr’s. Never his own. I have to do something. Those people will never respect me after witnessing this, it will weaken my rule. I need to—no. They will be reasonable. Some bribery and not a word of this will—
Sofia’s laugh echoed in the room. “You’re pathetic, Johan,” she said. “Mighty Emperor, are we really supposed to follow you?”
No one joined in on her laughter, but their expressions all said they were thinking what she was. They are laughing at me, Johan thought. For a moment, reason was gone. All he wanted was revenge. They…they are laughing at me…in this state…they dare? They dare to look down on me? Reason pushed back. Play it off as a joke, Johan. Make light of it. You can use your charisma to regain control of the situation.
“Well, it is unfortunate, but to protect the Empire—” Johan started, then stopped upon seeing her face.
Sofia was more than grinning, she had raised her chin and was looking at him derisively, her struggle to contain her laughter resulting in a truly amused if disgusted look at his misery. You deserve this after what you did to my father, to my family, to me, she thought. Ah, how you deserve this. Johan could not read her thoughts, but her face was enough.
Fury superseded reason. “ARREST THEM ALL!” Johan cried out. “DON’T LET A SINGLE ONE OF THEM OUT OF HERE!” He glared at his guards. “Anyone who utters a word about this incident shall be crucified still alive and be force-fed their family’s still beating hearts, you hear me?” He gestured at the nobles. “Arrest them all! THROW THEM IN THE DUNGEONS!”
Roger stepped up beside him. “My lord, understandable as your anger is, if you do such a thing, your support might—”
“THIS IS AN ORDER!” Johan thundered. “Get them in the dungeon, then have Nameless erase their memories of this incident—the guards too. Now.”
“But the Arcship—”
“We’ll invade it.” Johan was breathing heavily now, coughing between words. “They won’t accept my gold? Then they’ll accept my steel.”
“It is far less risky to—”
“NOW!”
The eight nobles possessed considerable Swordsmanship, but they did not possess the courage to fight back. Sofia did have the courage, but she decided against it, grinning and allowing herself to be taken to the dungeons with the other nobles, who appeared torn between outrage and horror. Some cried out about the grave offense Johan had committed, others cried about the consequences that would follow.
Sofia knew better and did not say a word. She could feel, in that one moment, what would bother Johan the most. As she was being taken away, she looked him in the eye and laughed again.
“LAUGH!” Johan cried out. “LAUGH WHILE YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONGUE! I—I will torture her. I will do anything I can. I will make sure no one knows about this incident. I will make sure anyone who sees that is subjected to a fate a thousand times worse! Damn be the Arcship, we can take it over if need be!” He shook his head. “Damn it all!’
Johan made his way through the rubble and reached for his object of comfort beside the throne, a crown he had designed for himself. It was not the Imperial Crown—that had remained in the Flying Castle of Vyzerworth since the Death of the Emperor, but he had convinced himself his replacement was just as worthy.
Upon grabbing it, he noticed it was cracked. Not fully broken, but the silver-like material was threatening to split in two and it did not look good. Frustrated, Johan sat on the throne, nude and covered in blood, before placing the cracked crown on his head. For a moment, he felt at peace. I can fix everything, he thought. Nameless can destroy memories…and I can turn them into puppets like that. We can create fakes with Roger and Nameless working together. I can—
Rubble fell in the distance. Johan nearly jumped out of his throne, panic plain on his face and trembling hand falling to his sword. IS IT THE REFEREE? IS HE BACK?
It was just rubble.
But Johan’s heart would not stop racing for hours.
This is what Johan’s daily life was like now.