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New Reality: 23 February 1525, Northern Italy.
A nourishing energy ran through his body, at the same tingling and tickling. A couple of light slaps on his face sealed the deal and made Ardent open his eyes.
"Sleeping beauty's back," Donnie—the one who slapped him—said, helping the young condottiere rise on his buttocks. The first thing Ardent observed was that the man's skin was now looking healthy and rosy, like for a normal person, or even better.
"What the fuck?" Ardent yelled, jerking back and hitting the back of his head on a stool.
In his armchair, Francis was very much alive, despite an ugly red scar on his neck. For whatever reason, the king was crying. "Thank you for cutting my head… I'm a jerk… Totally deserved it," the monarch sobbed.
"What the fuck?" the youngster repeated to himself, massaging his forehead. "And why the fuck I'm saying what the fuck instead of what my dick?"
"Because of the System, of course." Stretched on a bundle of large and soft pillows, an empty wine bottle in hand, Salvatore stared at the tent's ceiling, fixing it with his eyes. "Universal Translator, core version, English based, colloquial expressions included. You can change the settings if you want."
"I revived the king before the damage was permanent," Donnie said. "Magic," he waved his fingers in the air.
"Almighty protect us! A Necromancer?" Ardent yelled, looking around for his sword.
"Keep your shit together or I'll knock your teeth out," Mickey snarled. He had Ardent's sword, now sheathed, behind him.
"Yeah, old man, I'd like to see you try," the bodyguard smirked back. He didn't like being disarmed of his main weapon, but couldn't fault the Italian for doing it.
"Please, guys, let's chill," Leonardo begged. His hair and beard were now a pale blond, Ardent noticed. "Why did you attack him, kid? Are you a spy or something?"
"You ask why?" Ardent sneered. "He was going to ally with the Turks! They destroyed my village when I was a kid. I was the only survivor, and only because a band of mercenaries passed by and rescued me…"
"We have until morning to sort it out," Leonardo sighed, his shoulder sagging, and started to walk around. "Flight or fight, this is the question. And if we decide to escape, we'd better do it as soon as possible."
"There's nothing to sort out," Francis whimpered. "I'm a bad person. I should abdicate. Surrender. Or better, kill me for good."
"I hurried as much as I could, but his brain was without oxygen for a few minutes," Donnie sighed. "And I'm not a Necromancer, I'm a Lifemancer."
"We have to talk," Leonardo insisted. "We're in deep shit."
"No kidding, Sherlock… WHO THE FUCK IS SHERLOCK?" Ardent yelled after a pause.
"A detective. I've just told you, the Universal Translator has colloquial phrases included," Salvatore said, his eyes still staring at the tent's fabric.
"Please, let's talk," Leonardo begged, kneading his hands.
"Fine…" Supporting himself on the stool behind, then rising and sitting on it, Ardent looked around, trying to put some sense in the madness. "How long was I—"
"About half an hour," Leonardo said. "Allow me to put you up to speed… I have no way to put it mildly, so here it goes. Salvatore's from the future. They have this technology that allows you to travel back in time and he came here a ton of years ago—"
"So much work… wasted…"
"Maybe not, Salvatore, maybe not," Leonardo said. "The thing is, the world is like a tree. There's the trunk, and there are the branches. Alternate realities, they call them. If you change history, meaning the past, you create a new branch."
"This is crazy…" Ardent whispered to himself, leaning his forehead on his hand. Yet, looking at the man he beheaded breathing like nothing happened hinted the story was true. "A wizard from the future trying to change history…"
"It's a hard task," Salvatore added, raising his head momentarily, before returning to his position.
"It's complicated. He tried a lot of things before, and failed… like saving Constantinople from the Turks, making the Byzantines win—"
"Hahaha…" Ardent roared. "You tried to work with the Greeks? Good luck with that."
"I know… lost cause… they argue so much…" Salvatore sighed.
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"The idea is that when magic is in the trunk of the main timeline, it cannot flourish, while on a branch… flowers and leaves appear."
"It was a metaphor for magic," Francis said.
"I figured out that much," Ardent snorted.
"Let me speak," Leonardo raised his voice. "After failing again and again to diverge a new reality, Salvatore brought us together. He prolonged Donatello's life—he's over a hundred, by the way—and then saved mine and Raffaello's."
"At first I thought it was because of our greatness," Michelangelo said with a bitter voice. "But guess what? He's an aficionado of a show called The Ninja—"
"Pay my colleague no nevermind," Leo continued. "That too, but Salvatore thought having smart people to help would… well, help."
Salvatore groaned. "And in the end, it was for nothing…"
"We achieved a breakthrough, though," Leonardo objected. "You see, kid, we were planning to help the French win the battle, and change the tides of history."
"It's for the best the plan failed, Leo… I'm a horrible person," Francis rushed to say. "I can't be trusted to rule over Europe."
"But you killed him before that, and diverged this reality two days before schedule… and things are different. For instance, if the alternate reality had split during the battle, many of those participating in the divergence would have received magical powers, making us unstoppable. By beheading Francis, sorry, Your Majesty—"
"It's OK," the king sighed. "First name is more what I deserve. Arsehole is my new name… Hey, this thing has a psychotherapy app... Great!"
"Give me that!" Mickey snatched the black rectangle from the king's hands.
"To keep it short, there are only six people awakened to the System now, instead of thousands," Leonardo concluded.
"Seven, if you include me," Francis said. "But I'm next to useless."
"Anyway, we, meaning you too, Ardent, should work together. Having the System is a priceless gift, that comes with great power, but also responsibilities."
"And what's the plan, Leo, you want to conquer the world or something?" Ardent asked amiably, taking his landmarks. He had two hidden daggers on him and was pretty sure he could kill those mad wizards and the undead king in no time, and for good, starting with Mickey and Donnie, and letting Salvatore and Francis last. Ralphy was not around, that was a bummer.
"Of course not!" Mickey growled. "We want to make the world a better place. You might not have noticed, but this world is shit. And you don't even know what's about to come. Religious wars, genocides, civil wars… I suppose magic wars too, now."
"Oh… so you're not evil?" There was no reason to doubt their words, after all, he had been at their mercy, unconscious, and here he was, unhurt. Slightly disappointed, the bodyguard relaxed. "Where's Ralphy?"
"Raph. Outside, to keep people from coming in. Fortunately, Francis ordered everyone to leave us alone for the night, but French nobles are not bright, to say the least. Better be safe than sorry," Leonardo explained.
"Raph trained to be a real Ninja, he took those stories from the future to the heart," Donatello added. "He has the pajamas and all."
"We're doomed," Salvatore exhaled. His muscles relaxed, and the next second, he was snoring, the bottle he previously held in hand rolling on the floor.
"Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya…" Francis started singing in a low voice. Somehow he had stolen back the magic rectangle and was watching something on the screen, a pair of strange buttons stuck in his ears.
"The plan stands," Mickey said deadpanned. "We're winning the battle; we still have one day to train the troops with the rifles. Then we take it from there."
"Moment, dude," Ardent raised his hand. "Who put you in charge of military stuff? I'm the only soldier around, after all."
"Who put me in charge?" the Italian artist barked. "My genius put me in charge, you little prick. I read the best strategy books, Clausewitz, you name it. If you want to stick with us, you have to respect our seniority. If not, you're free to leave," he gestured toward the entrance. "Good rid—gaaaaah—" With a wail, Michelangelo collapsed on the floor, both his hands over his jewels, where Ardent had thrown the tip of his boot, moving fast as lightning.
"It seems we have a little misunderstanding," Ardent smiled, sitting back on the stool. "Hear me well, 'cause I ain't saying it twice. I'm a mercenary, I fight for money, that's my job. Reading books is nothing compared to real experience, and believe me, I know it firsthand. I and my late adoptive father killed lots of brainiacs. That said, I did worse gigs than this one, so I'll stick with you for now, but I'm getting paid, and I'm in charge of anything military. If you don't agree, I'll leave. If you agree, but give me some short-dick sarcasm, I kick your balls sky-high today and tomorrow… So?" he waved the tip of his boot in the air.
"I like him," Francis said. "I appoint him to be our general."
"Thanks, Your Majesty, the youngster nodded. "Donnie, heal that poor bastard. Leo, give me a short brief of the current situation. What are our assets, strengths, and weaknesses?"
Shrugging, the artist poured himself a glass of wine before continuing. "Strengths: we know the enemy's plan and location. We have advanced weaponry, and have unlocked classes… magical powers. Once you are set to inspect yours, think: Status and a text will appear in front of your eyes, explaining everything.
"Also, we have a few dozen smart ph— magical items with information, like the one Francis is using, with a huge database about history and a small spatial storage. Salvatore already prepared one for you," the man paused, throwing Ardent one of the black devices. "It's next to indestructible, very user-friendly, and has a tracking device. Recharges with sunlight, and Mana."
"Thanks," Ardent said, almost dropping the rectangle when a side lightened and letters appeared. "What about the weaknesses?"
"Weaknesses…" Leo sighed as he repeated the word. "For instance, the French army's commanders are inept, we should pray they don't do something stupid and ruin everything."
"Like at Agincourt, Poitiers, here, the Seven Years War, the Second World War," Francis counted on his fingers. "But we won a lot of battles too. Napoleon rulz."
"We're the only ones with the System, for now," Leonardo continued. "This System doesn't appear everywhere, from the start, but spreads through Karmic contact, from person to person."
"What the hell is that?" Ardent asked.
"If you influence someone's life for the better, and if they have a sliver of magical potential, they'll get the System too… Doesn't always work, it's like a dice roll.
"On the other hand, Wild magic is now accessible to everyone with a minimum of talent. They're our competition, and chances are they will be not friendly. Because of the sudden influx of Mana, monsters will appear, mutated animals. And maybe dungeons too."
"We have a few months before that, I guess," Donnie said.
Silence fell in the tent, and the young condottiere started to rub the back of his neck. "I need a moment," he finally said. "Are you sure using those contraptions won't mess my brains up?" he pointed to Francis, who was clutching the screen next to his eyes, mumbling something about Marx being right.