I wasn’t given a moment to breathe before I sensed a group arrive in my quarters. There were five distinct groups in total, each surrounded by guards.

The end of the meeting had been a welcome relief and knowing that there was more was draining. I took a long moment to compose myself, trying to conjure social energy from the ether and I found myself tapped out. I wanted some idle time – watching television, or trawling the internet or social media, things that didn’t exist here.

It was amusing to think that before being summoned to this world I wouldn’t have been able to imagine a life without my phone. But I’d been kept so busy – learning, planning and stressing – that there hadn’t been any time to miss the internet.

I was waiting at attention when a knock came and my door opened a moment later, revealing Dedrick’s dour expression.

“Presenting his Majesty, King Orpheus Mandaron,” he said, “along with his loyal guard, Sirs Eleus Mandaron and Alfred Barnaby.”

King Orpheus and his knights strode in, capes and cloaks fluttering behind them. When they were through, Dedrick closed the door. I bowed as the king neared.

“Your Majesty,” I said, barely any emotion in the words. There wasn’t enough energy left in me to be scared or intimidated.

“The less words said by you, the better,” he said. “You did well enough during the gathering, but whatever luck the Fates granted us might not last. Seem gracious as you accept the gifts they give, if they make attempts at conversation be cordial, but keep your words short. The sooner this day is done, the better.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said. “Am I going to keep the gifts or will they be yours?”

That part was blurted out. I kept my eyes from widening, his narrowed as they took me in from head to toe.

“I am a king,” he said, “why would I need your trinkets?”

I wanted to shrug and I stopped myself. The question had been more to know if I’d have stuff that was mine. I liked the gun, but it was a gift from Odysseus and who knew if at some point he’d pull a dick move and take it from me if I did something he didn’t like.

I mean, technically they can do that even if the gifts were given to you. The question was irrelevant. I was just tired and my filters were lowered.

King Orpheus found a seat and nodded shortly. Alfred went to open the door.

“Presenting, King Maybelle Florence, Northern King of Connelly,” said Dedrick.

King Maybelle stepped in, her cloak fluttering, two knights at either of her sides. She didn’t smile, but her brown eyes held warmth as they took me in.

“Your Majesty,” I said, with a bow.

“Champion,” she said, returning the bow. “It is a pleasure to meet someone of your esteem. Growing up, I often heard stories of my ancestors, of other Champions in the Commonality and the greatness which they accomplished. I am excited to see such greatness occurring in my lifetime.”

Pressure.

“I hope to not to disappoint you, or sully the actions of those who came before me,” I said, the words rote.

She smiled, except it wasn’t that but a smirk, except not a smirk because it wasn’t smug. There was something in her eyes and it made me feel flustered, my heart starting to beat faster. I swallowed and found it hard, I wanted to smile but it felt like that would have been stupid. I cleared my throat.

“Had I known you favoured pirate weapons, I might have gifted you something else,” she said. “Alas.”

She cupped her hands and the air rippled, with a sigh a sword appeared, big and broad; she caught it without trouble. King Maybelle pulled the weapon out of its sheath; the hilt had a temporal gem stuck in it, and along the blade’s length were earth and air gems.

“The blade has been named Swiftwind by its master,” she said. “Whoever holds it is granted the speed of a temporal mage, while the blade itself is heightened by air magic for a better slice and earth magic to bolster its strength.”

King Maybelle handed the sword over and I was surprised by how light it was; the blade itself felt so thin that it might bend and break, but that was probably why it had earth gems in the first place. Anything beyond that and I couldn’t tell if it was a good or a bad sword.

“I might not personally be able to use it,” I admitted, but the sword could be useful, nonetheless. It felt like my plan would be too thirsty, but right now I was parched. “It will be put to good use. I thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty.”

“Good day to you, Champion.”

With a last sultry smile, she turned and left.

“Presenting Minister Luke of the sun court, and Minister Daeshim of the moon court.”

The two ministers were surrounded by the men in black as they walked in. Each of the soldiers carried swords in black sheathes; their heads didn’t move, but their eyes never settled in one place. The men didn’t have bulky armour like Althor’s soldiers, but they were intimidating all the same.

“Champion,” said the ministers, bowing.

“Ministers,” I said and mirrored them.

“It is unfortunate, Champion,” said Minister Daeshim, “had we known you preferred more ranged weapons, our gift would have been different.”

I chuckled dryly. “It feels like I’m getting a lot of weapons,” I said, “but I appreciate them all the same.”

“You are most gracious,” said Minster Luke. Each of the ministers moved, pulling boxes that were covered in silk wrappings. As they presented them they unfolded the silk, revealing dark red wood with lighter lines running through it. “Be careful, Champion. The wood, even when cut, still lives. It will bite you and in this it will ensure that it cannot be opened by anyone who isn’t you.”

I swallowed and reached for Minister Luke’s box first. The box was rough as I touched it, splinters moving and shooting out so they dug into my fingers; the pain was a short stab, surprising but helped by having anticipated it. Quickly after the bristly box smoothed as if it had been recently sanded.

In the box, sitting within a wrap of silk, was a sheathed knife as long as a ruler, with a hilt bearing a bird with a trailing tail wrapping around it, electric gems making the eyes. The box was put aside and I pulled the knife out of its sheath. The metal was without diagrams; single edged, it had a tip cut at a savage angle. At the touch there bloomed an impression in my mind; not a location, but something that felt like a switch. Practice with the spatial gem made it easier to push the impression, flicking it on; a shriek cut into the air as tendrils of red lightning ran over the blade’s length.

“Storm magic is the most difficult of the elemental arts to work,” said Minister Luke. “So much so that kingdoms in the Commonality prefer it as a ranged weapon rather than a melee; this is not so for the Sunward Empire which has put considerable work into the art.”

It felt so good to have more of a sense of how things worked, to know that the words weren’t for me, but a subtle, not-so-subtle screw you to King Orpheus and his mages. I kept a smile from appearing, and instead bowed and put the knife back into the box.

I reached for Minister Daeshim’s smaller box, though as I opened it, the thing was much larger than it needed to be. Inside was a ring that was made out of a white, smooth stone I’d never seen before; it was hollow in the middle and I could see pale blue stone within.

“Is that a temporal gem?”

“Yes, Champion,” said Minister Daeshim. “It quickens the wit ever so slightly. It is a personal gift from King Hyun Ki, and by extension the Emperor himself. His Royal Majesty commented that he knows how tedious matters of court can be, and the ring will aid you to mentally compose yourself so you are not derelict in your duties.”

Maybe I was reaching, but the important part felt like the fact that one of the kings had given the comment, which meant that the insult about electric magic came from said king directly. Their passive aggressive game was leagues above anything I would be able to accomplish.

“Your gift will be most useful, Minister,” I said. I didn’t put the ring back into its box, instead reaching for the impression it had inserted in my head. Much like Odysseus’ artefact, I felt a tick-tick-tick in my head that counted the seconds.

Gonna have to get used to that, I thought. As if taking longer breaths, I willed the tick-tick-tick to slow and it worked, stretching out the time between ticks by a second. I’d have to practice with that to see the full limits of the ring.

“Thank you both for your generosity,” I said.

“The pleasure is ours, Champion,” said Minister Luke. The pair bowed and their group left.

“Presenting the High Chief Ran of Halton.”

The man with the horned helmet came in with a heavy stride, smiling with teeth that didn’t look well taken care of. So close I could see that he was lined with a lot of scars, most pale — old.

“I’ll be quick, Champion,” he said. “We all have better things to do.”

Before he could speak he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bangle made out of a copper-like material, diagrams across it, all of them elaborating on three large spatial gems.

“This is a calling band,” he said as he handed it over. “Intone, ‘Rollo, come!’ and one of the better trained goats of my home will come to you.”

“Goat?” I said, looking at the bangle in my hand. “What am I going to do with a goat?”

“Call it,” he said with restrained excitement.

Putting on the bangle, I shrugged. “Rollo, come!” The air in front of me started to ripple. High Chief Ran and I had to step back as an outline appeared and then congealed to become a goat.

All words left me.

High Chief Ran laughed more than was needed. “Impressed, Champion?” he said.

The goat was as large as a horse except it was bigger, rounder in the middle, and with long, curved, black horns; it had a brown and white coat, curlier than the straight fur I was used to in goats from back home. A saddle had been set on its back, harnesses connected to its neck and mouth, and it wore a big necklace that had a large spatial gem.

“Fuck, yeah,” I said, with a bit of a chuckle. During the hunt I’d seen very big animals that had powers, but it felt different in this context — especially since there wasn’t really a reason to be afraid of goats. “Fuck, this thing is big. There isn’t anything like this back home.”

“The hardiest riding goats come from the Barrier Ridge,” said the High Chief. “Rollo here isn’t anywhere as fast horses, running birds and hounds—”

“Back up, what?”

“Have you not yet to seen them?” he said. Ran frowned and shook his head. “It seems you have been kept prisoner, Champion. It is a pity you were not summoned in Susserton, for then you would have seen the true wonders of the Commonality. For one, I know the most fantastic bard, Usher. One of your people.”

My eyes widened a little and energy surged back to me. I was aware of the king and his knights, so I was careful in my reaction. I turned to the goat.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Does Rollo bite?” I asked, because I wanted to get close. Looking away from the king and his knights, I allowed my emotion to run through my face. Usher, was that a coincidence?

“Yes,” said High Chief Ran. “But he’s well trained, using magic that was lost since the Blighted Lands became as they are. They’re smarter than the average beast, smarter even than most dire beasts. He was told he would meet you and have a new master.”

“Uh…Rollo, can I brush your fur?” I said, shakily. The goat didn’t acknowledge me; with a swallow I stepped forward, hand going out to its neck and running a hand through soft wool. “You’re softer than I expected.”

The goat snorted, its throat moved as if it was going to throw up, then it started to chew.

“I don’t even know how to ride,” I said to the High Chief, wondering how to move forward now, how to ask questions when Usher could just be a common name in the Commonality. But he was black and that had to mean something, right?

Usher wasn’t the biggest deal — he was a bigger deal for my cousins in their mid-twenties than for me — but at some point, when I had been only a child, he’d been a big deal.

“You can be taught,” said King Orpheus gruffly from the side-lines.

I nodded and turned back to Ran. “All things going well, High Chief,” I said, “the relationship between Althor and Susserton will be bolstered and I might be able to visit your home to meet the bard you mentioned. I haven’t been able to enjoy the Commonality’s art yet, I’ve been too busy.”

“Perhaps,” said Ran. “All going well, we’ll meet again, Champion.”

And with that, he was off, leaving me unsure of the future.

“Presenting the Grand Healer, Ethelinda.”

The tall and willowy woman stepped in, her stride long and graceful in a way that shook me. Everything about her felt like an animation, from the hair to the way she moved. When I was looking at any individual part I couldn’t spot anything wrong, but when taken all together, it made me feel all types of unsettled.

With her were two attendants, shorter and much more normal looking, both of them carrying much bigger boxes than those of the ministers.

Ethelinda stopped before me, standing much taller which wasn’t something I was used to and added to being generally unsettled.

“Champion,” she said.

“Grand Healer,” I said.

“Quite a specimen you have there,” she said, turning to Rollo. The goat kept chewing whatever was in its mouth, looking at her with yellow eyes that glowed when it caught the light.

“His name’s Rollo,” I said, my voice baring my smile. “A gift from High Chief Ran.”

“May I touch him?”

I shrugged. “Rollo’s supposed to bite.”

“I can heal myself and my skin is tougher than most,” she said. The Healer stepped forward and raised a hand, touching the goat; wispy white smoke left her and seeped into the goat’s neck. “Quite a specimen indeed, though I can feel some wear that would shorten his lifespan, pain around the hooves and thighs that would inhibit his movements.” The smoke got thicker before it eased. “All now healed.”

“Thank you for your service, Healer,” I said.

“And yet it was not the gift to be given to you today,” she said.

Ethelinda gestured and her assistants stepped forward and one popped open her box, showing folded up armour clothing that had a more modern feel, streamlined with padding at the joints and chest. The other assistant opened his box and in it were boots.

A part of me wanted to ask why most of the things that had been given to me seemed to outfit me for war, but I knew the answer. They expected me on the front lines, something I’d sort of alluded to with Owain the Younger and I wasn’t in any way up to doing because fuck that shit.

At least Susserton might be an ally, I thought, as hollow and far away as that felt to the conditions I was in right now. If the bard was Usher from my world, then it meant the High Chief knew some pop-cultural figures from my world, and that could only come from Rowan. If the two were in contact — especially now that I knew for sure Rowan was a Champion — then it would be better help than being in Althor.

“The armour is a moss blend of my own tending,” said the Healer. “Pliable and yet sturdy, with channels inset within the growth so that it naturally forms diagrams.”

“What types of magic have you got in there?” I asked.

“A variety, turned towards various ends,” she said. “A bit of fire magic to keep the suit ever-warm, gravitational magic for better movement, and earthen magic to increase the natural sturdiness of the moss. Above that, the suit heals slowly from damage. Though you should have care, the more it heals, the more likely it is that mistakes will occur and the diagrams within will be disrupted.”

This isn’t about me, I thought. Not really.

It was about the king, and maybe she was pitching a line of suits for profit. All the same it was something experimental

“That’s…thank you, Grand Healer,” I said. “For your generosity.”

She bowed. “We expect great things for you, Champion,” she said in leaving.

I looked at the king, eyebrow raised.

“Your gifts will be taken and tested by my mages,” he said as he rose. “Expect them tomorrow at the latest.”

Did I do good? I wanted to ask, but if Odysseus was anything to go by, he wasn’t the type to say good job. My heart broke a little when I saw him take my things. They didn’t take Rollo, but they took my bangle. A few minutes later, Rollo disappeared with a ripple and a sigh.

All things being said, the hard part was over now and I could relax, at least for the few minutes I had before Odysseus showed up. I had Dedrick send him a letter telling him to give me an hour at least before he came over.

I used the time to compile a growing number of notes, jotting down ideas and plans for the future. It was a hope spot knowing that I might have allies in Susserton, but that hinged on me getting off the island and then, ultimately, getting out of Althor; things that were hard to accomplish.

I decided not to think about it very much. I’d done good work and deserved a nap.

***

“Duke Surefoot,” I said, dressed in a fresh set of clothes. Lower in intensity than the stuff I’d worn while meeting the bigwigs but still nothing like the jorts which felt so comfortable. My nap hadn’t been as long as I would have liked it and I was still groggy, but my last conversation with Surefoot hadn’t been too high intensity and I wasn’t worried about mentally on my game.. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

The two of us were out on the balcony, with Surefoot sitting on the railing, at ease even though we were very high up and falling would mean death and probably political dishevel.

“I thought I would see you before I am off,” he said, his tail flicking lazily as he looked into a gentle breeze.

“Oh? You’re going back home?”

He nodded. “Father will want to hear about the gathering today, amongst other things,” he said and paused, anticipation lingering in the air. A part of me really wanted to ask about that, to get a sense of if I was alright or in the red, but that might ruin things between him and me.

“Amongst other things?” I asked instead, because that felt safer.

“Yes,” he said. “After the true conclusion of the gathering I spoke to Earl Samuel of the Black Pastures. The mines his people derive their wealth from are running dry, my people are skilled in earth magic and I will be sending surveyors to search for more coal. If I am successful, I will get in repayment, an Urayemi claimed by his people.”

An Urayemi is a soul, I reminded myself, and though I didn’t get how that worked logistically, the thought that someone’s soul had been taken away from their family made my stomach sink.

“It must be fucked up that you have to do that,” I muttered.

“Greatly,” Surefoot said after a moment. “But that is the way of the world, to end the war we had to make concessions. And now to keep the peace, we have to pretend that their coveting of the Urayemi of my ancestors is something easily swallowed.”

“I think it comes with being marginalised,” I said. “Without having institutional power. In my world there was a thing called Apartheid, which is segregation between people like me, and…”

I hesitated, wondering if this would screw over the lie about not knowing the language. I’d been careful about making it seem like the only other people in my country were like me, which would take the language variable out of the equations. But if I continued, then it might be easier to make the conclusion.

Taking risks is the only way to survive this, I thought and taking a leap of faith was perhaps the biggest risk of all. Putting myself wholly at the mercy of someone else, someone who could have other goals or allegiances, who could be playing me so they could screw me over.

A long breath left me.

“Segregation between people like me and most of the people in the Commonality. I think the concept of black and white isn’t a thing here like it was in my world here, but…people like me are categorised as black, and people like Odysseus are white. My people were treated as less than human, and it was imbued within the structures of governments in my country and a lot of the world. When we got freedom, it was from the position of still not having a lot of institutional power, and a lot of the concessions even twenty-plus years down the line, are still negatively affecting people like me. I remember having a conversation with a friend of mine about…sort of the terms in which freedom was gained. I argued that things as they are were okay because it brought us the freedoms that we had; while my friend argued that perhaps if the fighting had continued, if we got the other side to bleed enough, then whatever deals were made might have favoured us a lot more, stripped some of the institutional power away, instead of giving it to a few black people.”

“Do you agree with this friend now?” he asked. “Since it seems you have had time to reflect?”

I stopped and thought, then shrugged. “I really don’t know,” I said, letting out a sigh. “My life wasn’t the best, but it was more privileged than a lot of people in my village. It meant that there were issues that I couldn’t quite see, and others that I didn’t have time to think about because I was doing my best to survive.”

Surefoot turned to look at me, as if seeing into my very soul. “It has just struck me, Champion, that you are away from home.”

I frowned. “Um…yeah?”

“How are you?” he asked me. The question shook me in a way that was hard to understand. My mouth opened and no words came out. “It is a question that, when I first came to court, I wished more people had asked me. It was the first time I fully understood the limits of an Urayemi, for though my parents and kin could experience what I had; they, more than most, knew the true significance of my part here and such questions became irrelevant compared to my duty. So I ask, how are you? Without pretence of politics and the façade one has to put up to deal with the matters of court.”

My mouth opened and closed, my mind blank. It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach while unguarded, and my mind was left sputtering, coughing and tears flowing freely. Emotions that I hadn’t let myself feel, emotions that had been so far in the distance that they seemed irrelevant, now rolled forward and hit me like a truck.

I turned away from Surefoot, my back leaning against the railing of the balcony.

My eyes burned and my breath caught. When I took a deep breath it stuttered, a deep thrum running through me. Surefoot didn’t disturb me as I took a long moment to gather myself.

“I’m…surviving,” I told him and I shrugged. “It’s nothing new. I’ve learnt to deal with this sort of stuff.”

“It must be harder to do so without family,” he said.

Another hit when I still wasn’t alright emotion-wise. I had to take another moment, breathing deeply and centring myself.

I shrugged again, feeling uncomfortable. “I lived with my grandma,” I told him, “and I miss her. I’m worried about her because I’m not sure how she’s dealing with me being gone. My wider family…it’s complicated — big, with cultural things that had happened before me and most of our cousins were born. The family’s still dealing with it in their own ways, still traversing the terrain that followed as a result. It can be bad, awful, but they were still family.”

Surefoot hummed. “I understand the sentiment,” he said. “I have seven siblings, thirty direct cousins and others removed. Our social system means we intermingle, that most of us can remember the slightest of slights and these can draw lines between us. There can be a lot of strife.”

“Is it fucked up that I miss it?” I asked.

He chuckled. “I do not think so,” he said. “I have felt similarly in the past.”

Silence passed between us, and I used the moment to remain my equilibrium again, getting myself on a firmer footing emotionally.

“I should be off, Champion,” he said. I nodded, short and terse. “But before I am off, I should warn you of what is to come.”

I swallowed, tense. “What?” I said, the emotion clear in my tone.

“You insulted the honour of the son of a powerful man,” he said. “It was done delicately enough that reprisal is limited, but nonetheless you should expect it in some form.”

“I was doing the same thing Duke Owain was doing though,” I said. “Responding in kind.”

“You were,” he said, “but he has power you do not and thus can dictate the terms of how to answer the transgression.”

“Can they kill me?”

“No,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, nodding too much, because the pressure had suddenly lifted. It wasn’t the best, but I wouldn’t be dying. “What should I expect?”

“I cannot know for sure,” said Surefoot. “But if I were to guess, from what little I know of the circumstances, Baron Owain the Younger is likely to demand a duel. In fighting you, he would prove his mettle, likely doing his best to paint you as the coward he named you as, and in the process regaining his honour.”

“But…that’s just bullshit,” I said. “I’m not a fighter. I think most people know that. If he fought me, it goes without saying he’d win.”

“I think it is less about winning, than him proving he has power over you,” he said. “If you two fight, he will do his best to humiliate you.”

I looked up, letting out a long groan. What sucked was that I knew the tactic, fighting someone weaker to prove your strength. I also knew that everyone else would know the tactic, they would know what the baron was trying to do, but they would let the duel dictate how they saw me nonetheless.

“Does it have to be a fight?” I asked. “Can’t it be chess or something?”

“Can you play chess?” he asked, curious.

I shook my head. I knew the rules but I wasn’t very good at it. A schoolmate of mine had told me that I paid too much attention to the moves I was making and my own plans that I didn’t pay attention to what my opponent was doing.

“At any rate I do not think Baron Owain would accept,” he said. “A chess match proves nothing when it comes to his warrior spirit. You said he nearly died in a hunt where he didn’t have much prowess, and he called you a coward during that hunt; both of you would have to prove yourselves courageous or skilled in some form.”

“What if…it’s not a fight, but a competition?” I asked, the words heavy with anticipation. “What if…I proposed another hunt, a competition to see who would bring in the better game or something?”

That way it wouldn’t be a fight that could get me killed on ‘accident’, even if I lost it wouldn’t be too humiliating, and between the gun and spatial magic, it would be easier for me to hunt.

A smile spread on my face as another idea struck.

“I could even give him home ground advantage,” I said. “Hunting in the mines was hard for him so we could do it aboveground.”

Malnor was too small for good hunting, I was sure of it, and if I posed things that way, then we might be teleported to the Elemental Line, maybe close to the border with Washerton too and then I could try to escape.

There were still things that worked against me, the fact that hunting above ground would likely mean riding animals and, even with Rollo, I couldn’t ride, but…

A laugh left me, two birds with one stone, and I could even be sure that Owain would agree if I framed things right.

“Such mirth?” said Surefoot.

“I might have an idea,” I said. “Fingers crossed it works.”

Surefoot looks at his paws. “My fingers cannot cross,” he said.

“Um…ah…”

He smiled. “A joke, Champion,” he said with a soft chuckle.

I smiled. “I’m sorry, Surefoot. I don’t want to sound like I’m pushing you away, but…my plan works better if I talk to Odysseus, have him get a dinner party together as soon as possible.”

“Oh?” he said. “Now you have intrigued me.”

“I know you’ve got an important duty,” I said. “But…maybe stay until it’s done? I could use the moral support.”

Surefoot nodded. “I can spare a few days,” he said. “I look forward to this plan of yours, Champion.”

A shuddering breath left me, wild and a little manic.

This was going to work.