Act 1, Part 8: Spirit

"Welcome, Sultan Abdullah," Tigun greeted warmly. "My name is Tigun the Advisor. As you can infer, I am responsible for helping the King of Ludibrium run this kingdom as smoothly as possible."

"Greetings," Abdullah said hesitantly.

Abdullah couldn't get over the idea of speaking to a toy. At first glance, Tigun did appear human enough. His powdered wig, feathered hat, and red suit gave the impression of a prim and proper court official. On closer glance, however, his proportions were all wrong. His head and body looked much too rectangular, and there was a strange plastic sheen coating his body. Looking at him from the side revealed that Tigun was, in fact, a block man.

Perhaps Abdullah had been staring for too long, for Tigun cleared his throat and said, "You'll find that that there are many other wondrous sights to behold in this fine kingdom."

Abdullah looked away in embarrassment. "My apologies. That was unbecoming of me."

"No matter, Your Majesty," Tigun said indifferently. "Ludibrium doesn't see many visitors, and so we've grown accustomed a certain level of… how shall I put it? Culture shock, if you will."

"I was surprised to receive King Ludus' invitation for that exact reason. It was my understanding that Ludibrium had closed its borders to outsiders," Abdullah said.

"And so we have," Tigun explained. "However, recent events must be taken into account. The king has been following the news about the events in El Nath and Magatia. For that reason, he seeks an audience with Your Majesty to discuss a rather sensitive – and most importantly, clandestine – matter."

Abdullah nodded silently. He realized that there wasn't much point in discussing the matter further with anyone but Ludus himself. A silence fell between the two men as Tigun led Abdullah through the main square. Abdullah wasn't one for small talk, instead preferring the silence over forced questioning. The more that they walked, however, the more he found that he was just too curious to not say anything.

"This kingdom… how did it come to exist?" he asked. "It seems incredulous that an entire city could be built and supported by two enormous towers, all made out of plastic bricks."

"It is quite a marvel, is it not?" Tigun said proudly. "You see, the two islands upon which Eos and Helios Tower are built were originally one. Upon that island was where Ludibrium had its humble beginnings as a small town. After an earthquake split the island in two, King Ludus ordered the construction of the two towers, and the Ludibrium Hemisphere was built between them."

"I see. Were… the citizens of Ludibrium always toys?"

"What a peculiar question," Tigun laughed. "We were made through the grace of our king."

"So he's a magician of some sort? Is that it?"

"Certainly. The king holds great power. He created this kingdom to spread joy and laughter across all of Maple World. Our sole purpose is to make toys, so that we may distribute them through the world. From Henesys to El Nath, from Ariant to Mu Lung, we work tirelessly to gift children with happy memories. In fact, Your Majesty will have a chance to see our factories for yourself. We've just arrived at Ludibrium Castle."

Abdullah looked up to take in the shape of the castle, if one could even call it that. Like most of the town, the castle looked like it had been assembled by a child. It was made out of brightly colored blocks that Abdullah could describe as nothing else but gaudy. The warm red and yellow clashed against the cool blue and green, which made it hurt to look at any of it. Each of the three floors were in the shape of an alarm clock, complete with moving wind-up parts. It was loud and noisy and altogether far too much. Abdullah noticed Tigun looking expectantly at him, as though waiting for his opinion.

"It's certainly… impressive," he managed to let out, unsure what else there was to say. Fortunately, Tigun seemed to take his words as approval.

"It's so good of you to say so, Your Majesty," Tigun said. "This entire kingdom was designed by King Ludus himself, and the castle is no exception. He'll be pleased to hear that a fellow royal approves. He's always eager to hear feedback, you see."

Abdullah supposed that Ludus craved feedback the same way that a child expected blind praise. He kept the thought to himself, however. Contrary to popular belief, he was actually very self-aware of his infamously poor attitude. Just because he was aware of it, however, didn't mean that he had any intention of changing it. It was small vice that he allowed himself as a Sultan who put his people first. But he needed to curb his irritation today. The last thing he needed was to make an enemy of a second king when his war with the first hadn't even begun.

Tigun led Abdullah inside the castle, where they found themselves in an enormous hall. Abdullah found himself quite surprised. The castle hadn't seemed this big from the outside.

"Here, we have Terrace Hall," Tigun explained. "On your left is the Cloud Terrance, and on your right is the Sky Terrace. Both are exceptional vantage points to appreciate how high up we are. Perhaps after your meeting with King Ludus, Your Majesty may be interested in taking a look from the balcony."

"Hm," Abdullah said absently. "Erm, I mean, yes. Of course."

He'd been so preoccupied with the architecture that he'd barely been paying attention. For a castle made out of plastic, he found himself impressed against his will that it was so structurally sound. Not only that, but the whole place looked so massive from the inside.

"Tell me something, Advisor," Abdullah asked. "How long did it take to construct Ludibrium?"

"About three years, I believe," Tigun replied.

"Three years?" Abdullah asked, taken aback. "That's not possible. It can't be. We're talking about the construction of two enormous towers and an entire factory the size of a kingdom. The raw material, the workers… it would take at least thirty years at minimum."

"Ah but you see, Your Majesty, that's the beauty of Ludibrium. We're all toys, after all. We have no need to eat or sleep. We don't tire, and we don't rest. For King Ludus, we built endlessly for three years and created this incredible factory of dreams."

Tigun pressed a button on a panel, which opened the sliding doors of a glass elevator.

"If you'll step through here, Sultan," he said.

Abdullah entered the elevator, which closed behind them. Tigun took out a wind-up key and inserted it into the gear mechanism on the button plate. A smaller panel opened up as Tigun cranked the key, revealing a shiny golden button.

"This will take us straight down to King Ludus' audience room," Tigun explained. "This elevator is the only access point between here and there. Only the king and I have the key for it."

"What happens if the elevator breaks down?" Abdullah asked. "Or if the key gets lost?"

Tigun laughed. "No need to worry, Your Majesty. This elevator has been constructed by the best engineers in Ludibrium. And as for the key, I take my responsibilities quite seriously. The king appointed me as his advisor for that very reason. In all these centuries, I've never once made a mistake."

"But you must have a contingency plan?"

"Well…" Tigun hesitated. "It's true that there is a manual access route that leads straight to the bottom of the clocktower. It's a single ladder that leads from the Sky Terrace all the way to the audience room. For obvious reasons, it is quite unsafe and was only ever intended to be used by the engineers on the upper levels."

"Wouldn't it be more prudent to have a better failsafe? It sounds like in the event of an emergency, the king would be trapped with only the option of a single dangerous escape route."

"That was how His Majesty had designed it to be. I'll admit that I myself had advised against it. However, His Majesty has certain… truths that he wishes to be kept as classified as possible. Many of those truths exist deep beneath the factory, and for that reason, His Majesty chose to make it as inaccessible as possible. But I don't wish to trouble Your Majesty with such mundane matters. See here, an excellent view of the factory floor."

Abdullah looked out the glass elevator to find an enormous assembly chain. There was no other word for it except breathtaking. It was almost like watching the insides of a living entity. Each sequence fit seamlessly into the next, never stopping and never breaking down. Even the terrace, which had seemed gargantuan, paled in comparison to the magnitude of the factory.

"These are the upper floors of the factory," Tigun said helpfully. "Here, we assemble our soft toys. Teddy bears, pandas, and such. All our materials are locally produced, of course, including the textiles and stuffing. What we're seeing is the final stages of assembly. From here, it makes its way to packaging and shipping. You're quite fortunate, Your Majesty. You're the first person to have seen the inner workings of Ludibrium in centuries. In fact, I believe the last person to have been here was Empress Aria herself, around five hundred years ago. Oh look, we've already made our way to the lower levels."

The lower levels looked nearly identical to the upper ones. The walls were still blue and decorated in the shape of puzzle pieces, but the assembled products were different – ducks on strings, toy ships and soldiers, and robots.

"Here, we have our hard toys. You'll find that these floors are fairly specialized. Most of the products are made from plastic. Safer for children, you see. But we also manufacture toys for internal use too. The Robos that you see, for instance, help run the factory."

"Machines making machines," Abdullah noted. "Self-renewal, in a sense."

"Precisely," Tigun nodded enthusiastically. "The Robos are recycled and used to create new ones. It saves us a great deal of resources. And the Robos are quite helpful to our engineers. Maintaining a factory this large would be otherwise impossible."

"Do the Robos have any other function?"

"Several exist as sentry guards, although they don't see much use, of course. The people of this kingdom are quite well-behaved, making the sentries merely a formality."

As Tigun spoke, the factory floors disappeared from view as the elevator descended. The entire scene abruptly changed into a starlit sky. Abdullah rubbed his eyes, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. But there was no mistake. It was like they had descended into another dimension itself. There were glowing clocks hanging in the sky, their hands frozen in place.

"What… what is this?" he breathed.

"Ah," Tigun said. "This is one of the truths that King Ludus keeps clandestine. The secret of Ludibrium, if you will. Before I reveal it, I do trust that Your Majesty will be prudent enough to keep it to himself."

"Yes, of course," Abdullah said impatiently. "Now tell me."

"You see, time does not flow in Ludibrium. Many, many centuries ago, when Ludibrium was first built, King Ludus came to a realization. This kingdom was built from the laughter and youth of childlike innocence. But our people, toys they may be, still aged. Their minds grew old. Weary. Forgetful. And passed into oblivion. King Ludus deigned that we must all remain as children to achieve eternal happiness. For this reason, he sent me to the Temple of Time in order to meet the Goddess Rhinne. On his behalf, I asked her to stop time in Ludibrium. And through her grace, the hands of time froze for us."

Abdullah opened his mouth, but he had no words. He looked down at his wrist. The sand on his watch was frozen in place. Tigun's story was ludicrous, but the evidence stacked up in its favor. His frozen watch and the view outside – no sorcerer was powerful enough to freeze time itself. But, he wondered, was that enough to say with certainty that it really was the work of the Goddess?

"You met the Goddess of Time?" Abdullah asked.

"Indeed. She was quite beautiful. Silver hair, white robes, and a large hourglass in her hands. Just as the legends say, her eyes were closed in eternal sleep. I found myself enthralled by her radiant aura. It was quite a peculiar sensation, as though time itself was billowing around us. One moment, I felt like a young boy. The next, withered and grey."

"That…" Abdullah began.

It wasn't that he doubted Tigun, strictly speaking. He himself was a devout believer in prophecy, after all. But there was a difference between prophecy and the existence of a Goddess herself. Prophecy could be explained with the laws of magic. It was observable. Where was the proof that Tigun really had met the Goddess? And why would she have agreed to such an arbitrary request?

"If I wanted to meet the Goddess, how would I get to this Temple of Time?"

"There is a way to get to the temple, of course, but not to meet the Goddess. At least, not anymore."

"Why not? You met her, didn't you?"

"Centuries upon centuries ago. A bygone era. But you see, Your Majesty, the Goddess has all but ceased to be part of this world, consumed by darkness in the last great war."

"You mean the Black Mage? He was a mortal man. A warlord who used dark magic. Surely you don't mean to say that a human could have destroyed a god?"

"Stranger things have happened, Your Majesty," Tigun admitted. "Perhaps he transcended mortality when he embraced the darkness."

"This just- I mean- it feels too convenient to be true. Er, my apologies. You must forgive me. I don't mean to cast doubt on your words. It's just something that I struggle with. Prophecies make sense to me. They're things you can see, observe, measure. But gods and goddesses… they only exist in stories. Half get lost in translation and the others contradict each other. The Black Mage – there are enough historical documents to suggest that he was real, or at least based on someone who was. But who's to say that he fought a goddess? That he himself somehow became more than a man? What is that line between history and legend? Between that which is true, and all the rest?"

"The truth is often what we make of it, Your Majesty. What is the truth but that which we place our faith in? You have faith in the words of prophecy. I have my faith in the Goddess. The people of this kingdom have faith in the security of their happiness. All things we cannot see, but still real to us. Does the truth determine our reality, does our reality determine the truth?"

"But is faith enough? You say that you've met the Goddess. If I believe you, that means the Goddess is real. But then what of the stories that the Goddess is omnipotent? How could a mortal have defied her will? Where must the contradiction lie – in you or in the fables? Without evidence, all we can do is pick out the parts that we want to believe, like a child who hears only what they wish to hear."

"In a way, I am a child, Your Majesty," Tigun smiled. "Despite my mannerisms, I retain the innocence and wonder that comes with childhood. Perhaps that's what makes me more receptive to the idea of belief. You might call it idealism, or even naivety. A side-effect from never growing up. I know that it's likely not the answer you were looking for, but sadly, it's the only answer I have."

"No, it's… it's fine," Abdullah said finally. "If it were so easy to answer, scholars wouldn't debate about it endlessly. If you say that the Goddess has touched this place, I'll put my faith in your words."

"You honor me, Your Majesty," Tigun said with a small salute. "And with that, I do believe that we've arrived."

The elevator finally stopped at the clocktower bottom. As the sliding doors opened, Abdullah and Tigun stepped out on what appeared to be a streetlit walkway that led to a strange keyhole-shaped building with frozen clock hands. Abdullah looked up at the sky. It was still dark and cloudy, but the stars were pulsing in and out like tiny heartbeats. There were strange runic shapes in the air – a green spinning sun and a white-blue moon. It was completely silent, and the atmosphere was unnerving him.

"This is as far as I go," Tigun said. "King Ludus is waiting for you inside."

Abdullah nodded before slowly climbing the steps of the building. He took a deep breath and entered through the doors. The King of Ludibrium was seated on an enormous throne floating in the air. Like the rest of the kingdom, the throne was made out of bricks, though these were made of solid gold. Despite being the inside of a building, there were absolutely no walls. The stars had all vanished, with all the light coming from the glow of a silvery nebula. Abdullah turned around, only to find that there was no door anymore. He gritted his teeth, realizing that he was trapped.

"Don't worry," Ludus called out. "The door's only hiding."

Ludus had the voice of a little boy, despite having to appearance of a man. Abdullah looked closer. No, not a man. A rounded doll with no arms and no legs. The face of an old bearded man was painted on his head, with the garb of a king painted on his body. Abdullah recognized him as a Matryoshka doll. He remembered having one as a child in Ariant. One could twist the head off the doll, revealing a smaller doll nested inside.

"What do you mean, 'hiding'?" Abdullah asked. "I trust that you didn't call me all the way here just to trap me."

"No, silly," Ludus laughed. "It's a game. If you want to leave, you have to find where the door is hiding. Don't worry, I'll play with you when we're done. I'm really good at finding stuff."

As if to show his enthusiasm, Ludus kicked his feet on his throne. Abdullah quietly sighed and came closer. Ludus flicked his finger and rearranged some of the blocks on the floor into a throne as large as his own, except this one was made out of silver. Abdullah took a seat on it, after which it immediately raised into the air to meet Ludus.

"Your kingdom is… interesting," Abdullah said.

"I made it all myself!" Ludus said excitedly. "I wanted it to be the biggest kingdom ever. So that I could make lots and lots of toys! Cuz sometimes, I get bored being stuck inside. And I can't play with anyone. But if I share my toys with people outside, it'll be like I'm having fun with friends."

"How is it fun if you can't even be with the people playing with your toys?" Abdullah asked.

Ludus looked at Abdullah as though he'd said something moronic. "Cuz I can see with my toys, dummy! I can see all my friends all over the world having fun and laughing and playing."

"You're telling me that you're spying on children across Maple World with your toys?"

"Not spying – playing! I can't go to them, and I can't bring them all here, so I watch and play from far away."

"Why can't you leave?"

"Cuz if I leave, everything goes ka-blam." To illustrate his point, Ludus made a gesture of expulsion with his hands. "And then Ludi- Ludi- the block kingdom will all fall down. Plus, mommy and daddy would be sad. They get lonely when I go up. That's why I always stay down here."

"Then why have you called me here?" Abdullah asked in exasperation. Ludus reminded him how much he hated children – their exaggerated gesticulations, their loud voices, and their severely limited vocabulary.

"Because you're gonna play a game with me."

"And what game is that?"

"We're gonna play soldier!"

"Soldier?"

"Mhm! With my toys, I saw that my friends aren't having fun anymore. The ones in the snow. They can't play because they're all running from the bad men."

"You're talking about the Tarheeds. The ones setting El Nath aflame, creating countless refugees."

"Uhh, I don't know what re-fuh-gee means. But if they're all hiding from the bad men, that means I can't play with them anymore."

"Let me guess. You wish to ally with me against them."

"Yep! You're good at guessing! Tigun-man said that you're gonna fight the bad guys and I wanna help."

"How, exactly?"

"We're gonna make soldiers. Lots and lots of them! Did you see our factories when you came here? We're making lots of toys right now, but we're gonna stop making them for a while. And instead, we're gonna start making soldiers. To help you fight the bad guys!"

Abdullah paused for a moment. When he'd gotten the invitation, he'd expected some neutrality pact, but certainly not this. It was true that having Ludibrium's aid would change the course of the war, but he couldn't help but remain suspicious about Ludus' real motives. He was a child, but he was still the sovereign of one of the most technologically sophisticated nations in Maple World.

"And what do you get out of this? Besides helping the refugee children?"

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't there anything else you want? A cut in the Magatia profits? A marriage between our dynasties?"

"Ew, I don't wanna marry you! You're old!"

"What- no, not you. Your future children and mine. To secure our political alliance."

"That's gross," Ludus said, making a face.

"Fine, then," Abdullah said, putting a finger to his throbbing temple. "What about Magatia?"

"What's that?"

"The city of alchemists! The one that I seek to annex and monopolize. Aren't you going to ask me for a cut of the profits?"

"You use too many big words, old guy. Just like Tigun-man. You should go talk to him about that stuff. And anyways, I have block kingdom. You can keep playing with Magah-tee."

"Very well, I'll have my ministers reach out to Tigun about the financial arrangements. How long do you anticipate for production to finish?"

"Uhh…" Ludus began counting on his fingers before holding up all ten fingers. "A looong time. We gotta figure out how to build them, and then we gotta make sure they don't break, and then we gotta make them, and then we gotta send them out, and then we gotta-"

"Alright, I get the point. Can you assure me that they'll be done within the year? There's no point to this arrangement if I win on my own."

"Don't worry, old guy. War is my favorite game. I think we're gonna have lots of fun playing," Ludus grinned.

Something about the way that Ludus said that sent a chill down Abdullah's spine, despite it coming from a squeaky child's voice. Although, he wondered, maybe it was because it came from a child's voice that it sounded ominous. Still, it almost sounded quite unlike the boy. But then, Abdullah reminded himself, this was their first time meeting each other. He had no real reason to believe that Ludus was being anything but himself.

"Very well," he said. "I'll have my people send the paperwork later. For obvious reasons, I think it's best that we keep our partnership secret until the production of your soldiers is complete."

"Sounds good. Bye, old guy!" Ludus cried, waving enthusiastically.

Both their thrones descended from the air back to the ground. Abdullah got up and made his way towards where the door used to be. He stopped and looked back at Ludus expectantly. Ludus squinted and looked around before finding a small metal sheet camouflaging itself around the silver nebula.

"Found you, door!"

The sheet immediately flew back to its proper place and expanded into a door, which opened for Abdullah to step through. The instant that he stepped outside, the door immediately shrunk and flew away. Just as it did, Ludus collapsed from his throne onto the floor. With no limbs, the wooden king simply rolled along the length of the floor.

From within him, a blue light shot out and formed an orb. As Ludus slowly regained consciousness, the orb slowly rematerialized into the shape of a despondent-looking boy with long hair that covered his right eye. He was garbed in a dark uniform with shoulder pauldrons and a winged-emblem that clasped his cloak together.

"Gods and spirits, I thought this pathetic masquerade would never end," the spirit said disdainfully.

Ludus groaned in pain as his head popped off from his body, revealing a smaller doll in the shape of a younger man, beardless and dressed in simpler clothing.

"What… what happened?" Ludus moaned.

He made himself upright and looked at the spirit hovering over him.

"Who are you? I... don't remember anything. What was I doing…?"

"Nothing important, the usual affairs of state," the spirit said mockingly. "Isn't that what a king does? Ah, but that's right. The King of Ludibrium is an idiot."

"I said, who are you?" Ludus demanded in his childlike voice. "I didn't ask you here."

"No? Aren't you the one who always goes on and on about having no friends. I have to say, I can understand why no one likes you. The Sultan was practically throwing the door open just to get away."

"The Sultan?" Ludus asked in shock. "When… when was he here?"

"Just now. Honestly, I knew that you were weak-minded, but I didn't realize that you were so fragile that you can't even remember simple things like a scheduled meeting. It's astounding that this kingdom hasn't fallen apart under your careful watch."

"But I didn't… plan any meetings."

"No, of course not. I did. But I was inside your body when the letter was written. You might as well have done it yourself. On paper, at least."

"Inside me…? Are you a ghost?!" Ludus cried, jumping back in fear.

"You really are a child in there, aren't you?" the spirit said scornfully. "At any rate, there wouldn't be a point in telling you anything. You're a useful tool, I'll give you that, but you're not good for much else. Definitely not for playing show and tell. But speaking of, I've heard that you quite like games. Well, I do too. And I have quite a few that I want to play."

The spirit laughed derisively. "Hm, you know what… I just realized something. I think we're going to have a lot of fun together."

. . .

It was the last night. The Sultan was expecting a letter on his desk by nightfall promising that the Tarheeds would desist in their trade arrangement with Magatia. But that letter would never arrive, which meant that the war would officially begin at dawn.

"Are you sure about this, milord?" Dion asked. "This ain't like takin' villages. It's another nation. One of the oldest kingdoms in the world."

"I am," Riche replied confidently. "This is a crusade, after all. A holy war. I have always been cognizant of the risks."

"Forgive me fer sayin' so, milord, but Magatia has nothin' to do with us," Dion remarked. "Our crusade was always with the spirits, not Ariant."

"Perhaps. But our discovery at the mine is a blessing from the Goddess. A sign that our path is true. She has given us the tools that we need, and using them is our mission. It is not simply a boon so much as a direction to follow. One which is pointing us towards Magatia. If the Sultan stands in opposition to our crusade… it has always been our sanctified duty to destroy the enemies of the Goddess. The angel of vengeance will have her due."

Dion nodded in understanding. Perhaps not acceptance, but understanding. Riche's words were impassioned, but he couldn't stop thinking that they were making a mistake. He chided himself for thinking so. After all they'd been through together, it was too late to have doubts.

As if he'd read Dion's mind, Riche added, "You're having reservations, aren't you?" As Dion looked away, Riche shook his head. "I'm not angry. I know that you, of all people, would never abandon me so carelessly. Speak plainly. I wish to hear your candid thoughts."

"Thank ye, milord. I think… I think I'm afraid. It's embarrassin', ain't it? Fer a grown man to be afraid of fightin'."

"Not at all. In fact, it makes my trust in you more certain. The man who does not fear war is either mad or a fool. Tell me, do the men feel the same as you?"

"They're excited, milord. They're feastin' and drinkin'. Hunters are respected in El Nath. No man afraid of a fight can be called a man here."

"Hm," Riche pursed his lips. "The chauvinism of El Nath is something I could do without. Even when I was young, I never fit into the typical image of masculinity. At least, not by the standards of our society. I preferred reading over hunting. Other boys my age were the first in line with their spears. I found my solace in the pages of history, prose, and gospel."

Dion laughed softly. "I'm guessin' ye didn't read much folklore."

"I'm afraid I didn't," Riche smiled. "I always preferred the comforts of facts over fiction."

"How did ye first learn the word of the Goddess?"

"My mother. She was a devout believer. I carry her bible to this day," Riche said, raising up his holy book. "She was a cleric, very adept at making healing potions. Almost everyone in our village loved her."

"Almost?"

"My father. He was… a difficult man. It wasn't his fault, really. He had a hard life. But that made my mother's life hard as well. He was prone to violence. He drank a lot. He shouted. But I suppose he's a product of his environment."

"That ain't an excuse for what he did," Dion said hotly. "My 'pa was like that too. I still hate 'im fer it."

"But my mother couldn't. She believed that the Goddess lived in everyone. That my father wore one of her faces. She spent her marriage trying to help him get better. I still… struggle with how I should feel about it. Her faith is mine, after all. For that reason, I know I shouldn't resent him. But one day, she fell ill. A sickness that she couldn't cure. After she passed, it was just my father and me."

"I can guess how well that turned out."

"You would be right. He didn't support my literary interest. He was quite… forceful in shaping me to become the same man as him. I knew that I shouldn't hate him, which made me despite myself when I did. The contradictions tore me apart. I tried rationalizing it to myself. The angel of balance has the two faces of mercy and vengeance, which meant that the duality in me was acceptable. But then, my mother was never once vengeful. The rationality didn't fit."

"But why can't it just be… okay fer ye to hate 'im? The feelings were still yers, even if ye didn't want 'em."

"Because I shouldn't have had them at all!" Riche cried, though he quickly composed himself. "I apologize. I forgot myself momentarily… which further illustrates my point. I still don't know why I can't be like my mother. She was good and kind and merciful. Everything that the Goddess teaches. But me… I have so much… hate inside of me. My father was a sinner. Some days, I felt entitled to pass judgement onto him. And other days, I wanted to fix him like my mother tried to do. I taught myself how to grow numb. To bury that anger beneath my feet. But still, it wasn't enough. Finally, I left him behind. I ran away to another village, far away from him. I couldn't take it anymore. I just… wanted to start over."

"And did ye?"

"Yes. I found friends there. A family. A good life. I was… happy. For a time."

Dion shifted uncomfortably. "Until the spirit came."

"Seven years. Seven years these hands built a new life, brick by brick, right over the ground where I buried my past. Seven years of forgetting, of making something better. All gone. The angel of vengeance touched my soul that night. She tore right into my chest, past the numbness and the dull aches. She made my hands into claws, to dig up everything that I'd hidden away. My hate. My pain. That is all I have left now. Tell me, Dion, how long can anger sustain a man?"

"Depends on the anger. Spite, jealousy, they all fizzle out. It'll take ye for months, maybe even years. But if the pain that caused it heals, that's the end 'o it. Ye forget, forgive, move on. But people like us… our pain don't fade. Our wounds don't clot. Our blood flows gladly from mornin' to night. Our anger is raw. 'N that sort 'o anger is righteous. The kind that could take ye forever if it had to."

"Only some days… it feels like forever is not enough. Forever is what you call something when you cannot see its end. When it comes to the future, humans are woefully short-sighted. All our predictions, all our prophecies… they are merely shapes we feel out in darkness. Forever is a rope we pull until it runs out far too soon. And that, more than anything else, is what terrifies me. Because, you see, after tasting that golden pool of hate, what else could ever compare? What feeling could take you the rest of the way, when the rope falls short?"

"I-"

"Milord!"

Aspen rushed into their tent. Dion and Riche immediately rose from their seats.

"What is it, Sergeant?" Riche asked.

"We caught someone, milord. He was plantin' bombs 'round the camp."

Riche and Dion immediately followed Aspen through the tent. A man dressed in a thick cloak was being restrained by two soldiers, who kept a firm grasp on him as he struggled.

"How did he get into the camp?" Riche asked. "Who was on guard duty?"

"Er…" Aspen hesitated. "No one, milord. Ye gave us leave."

"Leave to those who were assigned non-critical functions," Riche said irately. "Do you consider sentinels to be non-critical, Sergeant?"

"N-no, milord."

"We are on the eve of wartime, Sergeant. I gave leave against my better judgement, but what do I find? My soldiers abandoning their post to engage in drunken revelry. Does it come, then, as a surprise that an enemy combatant had been given the privilege of practically walking into this camp and nearly successfully blowing us all to pieces?"

Aspen opened his mouth to answer, but Riche impatiently held up a hand. He instead turned towards the restrained man.

"State your name and purpose," he ordered.

The man, who had been furiously struggling, stopped upon being addressed. "Rex. Chief of Hemant."

"Hemant? I believe that we liberated Hemant shortly before marching here to Astafi."

"Liberated?" Rex snarled. "Ye monsters burned it to the ground! Killed my wife! Took my nephew 'n sister-in-law! Bianca 'n Kari. Where are they?"

"You must be mistaken, Chief Rex. The Tarheeds neither kill nor kidnap. We seek to liberate humanity from the bondage of spirits."

"Liar! I held my wife's body in my arms. 'Er skin was purple… ye and yer Tarheeds choked the life outta 'er! 'N I can't find my nephew 'n sister-in-law anywhere, which means ye must've taken 'em. I'm here to kill ye and take 'em back!"

Riche said nothing for a moment, instead staring intently at Rex. After looking him up and down, he smirked.

"Release him," he ordered.

The soldiers immediately loosened their grip on Rex, who collapsed to his knees in pain. After coughing in pain, he slowly got up to his feet. Despite being shorter than Rex, he had an aura of death around him and a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

"Kill me, you say?" Riche smirked. "For crimes that I did not commit? What a strange motive for regicide."

"Yer no king. Not to me," Rex growled. "Yer a dark magician. I saw a spell circle on Rosalina's throat. That spell must've come from ye."

"I'm astounded that that people of El Nath take stock in such rumors. After I win the war that is to come, I will make a greater effort to educate my citizens in history and reason. No more nonsense rumors and tall tales. Let us start with teaching you. I am a servant of the Goddess. She has seen fit to give me the power of holy magic to spread her truth. If you don't believe me, just watch."

Riche raised his staff and slammed it into the ground. A golden jet of light shot out at Rex, who immediately put his hands up in defense. To his surprise, however, all his pain from being restrained vanished.

"There, you see?" Riche said. "My magic is the furthest thing from being dark. I could not possibly have killed your wife."

"Ye think that's enough to change my mind?" Rex demanded. "I'm no fool. Just 'cuz ye use holy magic don't mean that ye can't use others. 'N if not ye, it could've been any of the other mages in yer blasted Tarheeds."

"Fine. I see that there is nothing I can do to change your mind. What else, then, will put your mind at ease? As your king, it is my responsibility for hearing out all my subjects."

"Again, yer no king. Ye lead a gang of thugs. The people of the snowfield know no king. We're free, like the wilderness."

Riche clenched his fist in anger. This man was testing his patience in a way that few did.

"I am the Huntsman King. This is not a point of debate. My banner hangs over every village from Nimbus to Astafi. That makes me your sovereign through conquest. If you will not show me proper respect, then I will have you imprisoned."

"Try it. Ye'll prolly get yer lackeys to drag me off. If yer a king, then face me yerself. I invoke the chief's right."

The Tarheeds began murmuring at his words. The chief's right was an old custom, and not one that was used frequently in this day. The custom had been used in an earlier age, when different villages would fight each other over hunting territory and resources. Rather than having an all-out battle between villages, each chief would fight against the other while representing their village, thus reducing bloodshed.

"I accept," Riche said calmly. "Name your terms."

"If I win, I have yer head and ye give back my family."

"I don't have your family, what part of this is so difficult to understand?"

"Fine, then! I'll just have yer head. I'll find 'em myself."

"Very well."

"What 'bout ye, what are yer demands?"

"Put simply, you have nothing that I want. I don't care about you enough to want you dead, and since you will likely run away yourself, I doubt that you will ever be a future problem. However, I will not insult the ancient custom of our people. If I win, you will give me your cloak."

"…Deal."

Riche slammed his staff on the ground rhythmically. The Tarheeds immediately formed a circle around the two combatants. One of the soldiers threw a sword at Rex, who grabbed it in midair. He immediately charged at Riche, who lazily teleported to the other side of the circle.

"I do have to wonder whether you've thought this through," Riche mocked. "Worry not. I will make this quick."

Rex said nothing, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward. From his cloak, he pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it on the ground. The Tarheeds began coughing from the smoke, though Riche managed to cover his mouth. He realized that Rex must have hidden some bombs inside the lining of his thick coat, and that the Tarheeds – being drunk from their celebrations – must have failed to check.

He listened closely for the sound of movement, but he heard nothing. Rex had likely mastered the art of stealth from hunting. He considered lighting the area, but decided against it. It would take some time to clear the air and sending out a beacon would only advertise his location. Instead, he decided to go on defense. Using his staff, he created a thin but sturdy shell of holy magic around himself. Just as he finished, he heard the sound of a metal swinging through the air. Rex's sword pierced the back and shattered the barrier. Riche immediately teleported to the other side.

"Parlor tricks won't help you," he called out.

The smoke was dissipating and he could clearly see Rex's outline getting closer. Rex was wasting no chances in rushing and striking. Riche barely had time to pick up a defensive barrier before Rex shattered it. He was being pushed back, with him putting up a new shield and Rex breaking it with precise thrusts. Riche was getting tired of this.

"I've entertained this long enough," he muttered.

He unleashed a wave of magic that sent Rex flying back. His sword fell out of his hands and dropped somewhere in the middle of the circle. Riche teleported directly in front of him and pointed his staff at Rex's throat.

"That's the end of that," he smirked.

Rex looked up, breathing heavily. His cheek was bleeding from where his sword had cut him as it fell out of his hands. Riche noticed the look of pure loathing in his eyes. Rex slowly got up and dusted the snow off of him.

"Yer victory. Here, as promised," he said, unclasping his cloak.

"Wait."

Rex stopped and gave him a quizzical look.

"I don't want you to leave without first understanding what I'm doing here."

"Ain't it obvious? Yer pillagin' 'n murderin'. All that talk 'bout the spirits is just an excuse."

"No, it's not. You see me as a tyrant. Because you see only my actions, not what drives them. I cannot fault you for this. I hate the spirits, but I know that many in this country see them as guardians. Many in the Tarheeds have had their lives upended by spirits. I thought their stories would be enough. I thought I could keep mine hidden. Because I'm… afraid of revisiting that day. I keep it buried beneath my feet, leaving a hole just big enough for the anger to seep through. You hate me because you believe I killed your family, your friends. Then what if I told you that we share the same anger?"

"Don't compare me to ye. Ye destroyed my village. Countless other villages."

"As a spirit did to mine. When I was a young man, I moved to a small village called Waerwood. I hoped to start a new life there, to escape my old one. I followed the will of the Goddess and worked as a priest. I thought that I could use my gift to help others. This world is filled with wild spirits. Most people only ever see the ones that protect them. But I made it my job to purify the darkness inside the ones that seek to harm us. My actions brought peace to my village. Over the next seven years, the life that I'd always wanted took shape. I fell in love and even had a daughter. I thought that being content was what the Goddess wanted for me."

"…Then what changed?" Rex grudgingly asked.

"One night, a spirit entered our home. This spirit was unlike any other. Most spirits have traces of darkness, but this one… it was as though it were made of darkness itself. It overpowered me and went into my body. That was the last thing I remember before I lost my awareness. When I finally regained my senses, my village had been burned to ashes. Piles of dead bodies on the floor. My friends, my wife… my little girl. And blood all over me. On my hands, on my staff, on my clothes. The spirit made me kill them all. And I had no memory of any of it."

Riche felt himself trembling as he spoke. His staff loosely fell from his hands.

"As the sun rose to shed light on my unspeakable sins, I swore to the Goddess. I swore to destroy every single spirit that wanders this world. Her angel now works through me. To heap vengeance on the spirits and bless humans with her mercy."

"Mercy?" Rex said, shaking. "All ye've done is spread yer misery to everyone in El Nath! Ye think yer helpin' people by destroyin' their homes? How many 'ave died in yer crusade?"

"Not a single soul. I would never harm anyone. Everything that I do, I do for the people of the snowfield. Buildings can be rebuilt. Livelihoods can be renewed. But not lives. I destroy only what is necessary to draw out the spirits. They are parasites, leeching off humans. Making them dependent. Can you fault me for wanting to destroy an evil that can swallow you from the inside? That can force you to turn against your own people?"

"Yes. I can," Rex seethed. "'Cuz that's exactly what ye did. Burnin' everthin' 'n puttin' up yer black banners in its place. Ye've turned El Nath inside-out, swallowin' up everythin' that made us free. Yer new kingdom was built on blood 'n sin. Ye'll go to war, burn us to ashes, anythin' to plug up that hole ye've got in yer soul. Ye can't stand the guilt of what ye did to yer family. Ye've got all that anger 'n ye don't know what to do with it. So ye spread it 'round, make yerself into a savior to rewrite the story. Paint yerself in blood as the hero 'n usin' the Goddess as yer mascot."

Rex breathed heavily as he took in Riche's expression. The Huntsman King looked as though he would burn someone alive. Rex threw off his cloak and flung it at Riche.

"Take it. A king needs a good cape," he said before storming off. After a few steps, however, he stopped. Without turning around, he added, "Oh, 'n there's one last bomb in there. Fer the day ye can't look at yerself in the mirror no more."

As Rex's shape disappeared, Dion strode over to Riche, who was picking up the cloak.

"Should we send someone after 'im?" he asked.

"No. Killing him will only prove his words."

"But milord, what if he tries something again? We're gonna go to war, we don't need any loose ends, right?"

"Oh, he'll be back. I'm certain of it."

"Then why-?"

"Because he and I wear the same face. Our anger is the same. He may not believe it now, but I know the way that hate festers. What it makes people do. Today, he thinks of me as a tyrant, and he the martyr. But tomorrow, we go to war. And whether one fights or flees, war changes us all. He will return to me one day. And when he comes back, I want to see how he has changed. When he next looks upon me, I want it so that it shall be like looking at a mirror."

The staff in Riche's hand scintillated in his tight grasp.

~ END OF ACT 1 ~