The booth I sat in so resembled one from an American diner, it was uncanny. The problem was that the booth sat not in a diner but in the middle of a large circular hall in the world I had been reborn into. A large hall with disco lights shining down upon a school gym floor.

That was also not to say that the seat I sat on was made of real leather, more resembling a sofa rather than cheap vinyl stuff. Nor was the table the laminated plastic, but real wood.

Sitting on the opposite side of the booth to me was Alis, her pretty freckled face scowling at Celabeth, and Celabeth, a serene unisex face, with buzz cut flaxen hair, and elven ears, looking at me.

Not long ago I had told the two of them I desired to follow Aggard and her desires more than anything else.

My reconfirmed choice was the same now as it had when I first woke up in this world and in this body six years ago. Finally, I knew the scope of the issues I was facing. Primarily, I needed to do what had never been done before: conquer all the Isles in a Holy Crusade. But before that, I needed to decide what to do with the two sitting on the opposite side of the table.

One wanted me to be a stud, to act as a sire for the next generations of leaders of the Isles. The other wanted to be my wife. And all Aggard said, when I asked her for help, was that I was free to pick both.

I knew that in becoming a mother that Celameth would start the process, which would lead to her death. It was a sacrifice which I knew she was happy to make. In fact, it was a sacrifice she was eager to make.

‘Alis,’ I said, drawing her attention to me. Her freckled face shone with annoyance. ‘I will marry you.’ Her pretty face lit up with glee. Those precious dimples graced her cheeks. ‘I will marry you at the same time I marry Celameth.

‘Celameth, once you have finished your transformation, then and only then, will I become your husband. And in becoming your husband will do what I can to do what Aggard requires of us.

‘Until that moment I will—’

‘Klarric, winter on the Isles is deadly.’ Celameth said. Her eyes showing the age her pale cute, unisex face didn’t. ‘May I request that the two of you join with me, in living here in this tower. In doing so, I’ll teach you, Klarric, the art of mana use. I will call upon another Watcher to teach you how better to use your axe. And fellow promised-wife, I’ll teach you forgotten sword arts honed by the terrible struggles before my race all but died.’

‘Will I be more useful to Klarric if I learned those sword arts?’ Alis asked.

‘Yes,’ Celameth replied. ‘And to further your studies I will make sure one of the best experts of the Isles will go with you next year.’

‘Will, Hallvard not be going with us?’ I asked as it sounded like Celameth was talking about someone else.

‘No, he needs to spend time in his temple. He no longer has the freedom required to follow you as you learn how to survive the Isles. These past months without him have been rough on the temple and he has much to do. Not only to fix the issues that appeared without his presence, but also to prepare for what comes next.’

With that we started going through an intense training regimen. Most nights I crawled into bed with my future wives, too tired to even think about anything other than sleep. Within the first week, I created a magic axe. Once I had created the axe I was overwhelmed with joy this was the first magic I had ever cast. To make it easier to call upon the axe and to keep focus on it during combat, I created a talismanic mana tool which would allow me to easily and quickly call upon the axe.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Despite that, I was seldom allowed to use it during training. With my mind partly distracted, I noticed my axe skills diminish. Yet after two months of training not only did calling up the axe, but holding it in my mind as I fought, became much easier. Spring had come and still I was deemed not ready to head over to the Isles, despite the fact that I regularly had duels with the city guards and others who dared to tred the Isles.

Most of the times I won the fights. Making me even more impatient to head to the Isles. As impatient as I was, Alis was even more so. As spring carried on, more and more often I found her standing atop the tower, staring out across the sea towards the Isles. From up here, the Isles of Dunkeltal were visible, and often they held her attention even more than I did.

Spring was turning into summer when Hallvard finally summoned us to the docks. Celameth wasn’t coming with us. She had to remain and start going through with undoing the blessings Aggard had given her.

On a late spring day, one that almost felt like summer had finally arrived, we headed towards the docks.

The buildings along the docks were nothing like I had seen before. They towered up almost as high as the distant city walls. Some of them were really well built, others looked like they were a single storm away from collapsing. Occasionally, these differing buildings ended up as neighbours.

As it was reaching the end of spring, the docks were busy. Lots of people were hauling cargo, crate or sack by crate or sack, on and off the ships. Sometimes they went directly into, or from, a warehouse, large simple buildings with large sliding doors, and other times they loaded up stocky pony drawn wagons to ridiculous levels.

Despite the crowds of people, animals, and the omnipresent mounds of dung the fresh sea breeze stopped the stench from being overwhelming.

Amidst this chaotic scene, there was a singular calm point, almost like the calm in the eye of a storm.

It was a warship with high sides and towering fore and aft decks. There were three masts: a large main mast and shorter fore and aft masts. It was shorter, and narrower, than the wide wallowing merchant ships. There was also no one exiting and entering the ship.

Like the other ships, there was a crowd of people by the gangway onto the ship. Unlike the other ships, none of these six were milling around, waiting for orders from a singular point of contact. They were standing guard, wearing the quartered crimson and white surcoats of Aggard’s Knight Order.

Unlike other knights, these had both spears and short swords. Their shields were different, too. Instead of the normal kite shields, they either had smaller round shields, larger than bucklers, but smaller than other shields or large rectangular shields which reminded me of roman legionary shields.

None of them wore mail on their legs or arms.

Sitting on halfway up the gangway, one leg hanging over the edge, was an elderly rustic man with weatherworn bronzed skin. He wore a stiffened leather chest protector and clothes which looked like they had seen better days. His grey hair was long, greasy, and loose. Though he was old, he still looked like he had plenty of strength in his limbs and dexterous fingers. As proved as he was whittling a stick into a piece of art.

‘You two comin’ wit’me?’ He said, not looking away from his whittling.

‘Yes.’ I replied.

He grunted, then motioned for us to head onto the ship with his broad-bladed knife.

We walked between the six guards and up the gangplank, carefully walking past him as he continued to sit there whittling away.

Alongside me I could tell that after the harsh training we had gone through Alis was still Alis.

She clutched my arm and whispered to me, ‘Klarric, we are finally going, aren’t we? We are, aren’t we? Soon, soon we’ll get to step upon those Isles.’