Five years passed.
Much must be said on what transpired in those five years, for they were important; indeed, they saw the full flourishing of a realised Valuan state. Not one constrained within the borders of Valua itself, but a burgeoning empire that spread out into the vast reaches of the sky. The Valuan navy, formerly rather paltry in the face of such powers as Nasr, grew by leaps and bounds under the grip of Admiral De Loco's scientific advances.
The King of Valua died in the third year. The Queen assumed leadership of the nation. Princess Teodora, now all too adult, began playing for power against her own mother. In this time, too, she fell in love with a powerful old Duke by the name of Sisko. Whether it was true love is debatable; many speculated that the relationship was forged (at least on her part) simply out of practicality.
Admiral De Loco married in the first year, and had bequeathed onto him another son, this through legitimate means. Dubbed Jonathan by his now aged father, the baby found himself brought into a world of surprising warmth and love.
The younger De Loco continued to be spurned by his father. Now growing into a vastly superior intellect, De Loco found many reasons to both envy and hate his half brother Jonathan, and became ever more twisted in his outlook on life.
Gregorio, in recognition of his superior captaining abilities, was placed in a teaching role at the Senior Valuan Military Academy. It was his duty to take already moulded cadets and change them into capable strategists – his was certainly not a class for common soldiers.
An uneasy peace between Valua and Nasr began to break down in light of Admiral De Loco's rapid armament of his country's navy. The Nasultan, a bold and brilliant commander, deemed it necessary to beef up his own defences, ordering an increase in ship stock and instituting a recruitment drive. The thought of a universal draft entered his mind more than once.
A gigantic arc whale began terrorizing the skies. The forces of Nasr and Valua entered into a very brief and tense agreement to do away with it, but the whale proved too powerful and swift for capture.
Young Dyne, now a burgeoning pirate, found a down-to-earth girlfriend. She worked hard to keep him from egotism.
Tricks and Marlo continued to work hard on the Grand Fortress, which, after so many years of work, was now nearing completion. It proved as overbearingly grandiose as De Loco had initially planned. The old man promised for a freeing of all workers upon finishing the project, but few actually believed his words. Now deeply in love with one another, the two youths thought ahead to both marriage and family, but knew such things would be institutionally impossible while still amongst the labour gangs. The thought of having children, however, proved enough to keep them both working with strong hearts.
Squim formed his own gang of misfits and social malcontents, poorly mirroring the Sewer Rats of old. His initial plan had been to invade his former hideout and kill both Mama and Galley through sheer force of arms: however, upon finding it abandoned, the monster contented himself with throwing out the majority of Mama's old junk. His new band, bearing the apt name of 'Vermin', terrorized the surface dwellers of Valua with much greater viciousness than the Sewer Rats had ever managed, replacing a lack of thieving skill with sheer brutality. The police had extremely poor luck in catching any of Squim's thieves, as the brigands often resorted to killing their pursuers without hesitation.
Mama did not resurface, at least not in a capacity where she was recognizable to those from her past.
Samson King lived and worked. And Galcian lived with him.
It was far from an amicable relationship, for Galcian detested his host. The constant threat of blackmail sat over his head like the Sword of Damocles, always prepared to drop should Samson King deem it appropriate. Officially speaking, they were very close; when social eyes dropped away, however, Galcian did everything to express his distaste for King. So long as Galcian acted the part of adopted son, however, Samson didn't care. He would have his heir either way.
Galcian was sent to the Junior Valuan Academy, and learned the tenets of gentlemanly conduct. Despite some early problems in finesse – he was not accustomed to fancy table manners – Galcian excelled in his studies, and could readily impress any one of his teachers or peers. He did not make a point of gaining the trust of others, however, as the young man trusted no one himself. He garnered casual acquaintances, and little else.
Galcian proved himself a combat genius. His propensity for dominating in war games appeared very early on; his official record in simulated naval combat, against his classmates, was 325 wins and 22 losses. Indeed, he seldom lost at any game involving strategy – thus inciting those around him to challenge Galcian only in games of chance. Galcian learned to detest such random distractions, especially upon learning that luck seldom favoured him.
His muscles broadened and widened. By eighteen, Galcian looked every bit a man. As with mental combat, Galcian found himself unsurpassed in the arts of the sword and of magic. It is fair to say that he had an unfair advantage in these fields, having grown up in a physically demanding environment all his life: none of his fellow boys stood even the slimmest chance of keeping up to Galcian in fencing practice. The young tactician gained, moreover, a great love for extremely heavy swords, and demanded that Samson purchase one particularly devastating blade – a thick, middle weighted sword with incredible cutting power – for his birthday. It would almost never leave his side from the day he received it onwards.
Galcian graduated with top honours, and was immediately dropped into the Senior Academy. The advancement granted him the honorary position of Naval Lieutenant, one that he relished yet found strangely inadequate: it still seemed a long crawl up to Admiral.
He lived. He worked. He fought. All with that single goal in mind, that pinnacle of social climbing. And as he learned, gorging himself with book after book (Galcian seldom allowed himself any recreational time, feeling too useless if he took a break), his ideas began to change. Subtly, at first, but soon in a very pronounced fashion.
He would change the world for the better, yes. But it seemed so vast, so unknown. Could even his genius transform it all?
Or was some culling in order?
He killed several people in this time. Every now and then, a vicious tingle would run up his spine, and Galcian, biting his lip or feeling a slight tic in his eye, would vacate the house, take up his sword, and proceed down into Lower Valua. Nobody in Upper Valua ever found out about his excursions, not that they would have cared much. Why he did this was a mystery to himself: an imbalance, perhaps, in his brain, as a result of his taking over stewardship of Galley's body. He was not a man wholly right in the head, a fact that he was all too aware of.
Galley watched the world pass. He pined for release. But he said nothing.
