Book I Chapter 1: Lucius Aurelianus

Gonna be honest, I have NO IDEA what happened to the doc when transferring data from google docs to FF. A ton of extra words were added and some were taken out. Even now, I'm unsure if I caught them all.

The world had been dark for as long as he could remember. He wasn't sure when he had awoken, but he knew that at some point he had become aware of the passing time. It felt like he had re-experienced birth. Not that he remembered his birth, no. However, in the relativistic sense, billions of years came before he had been born, but as far as he was concerned: all of history might as well have been a second. The change was sudden. He would have flinched and covered his eyes, but he had found his arms to be unresponsive. If he had to describe the change... it was as if God had commanded, "Let there be light!" and light had listened.

Peculiar scenes played before his mind's eye. It all seemed familiar, like an act he had watched time and time again, but couldn't place a location or pin a name to the vague scenes before him.

A face?

A ghost?

No, a girl—a woman with a fragile voice he felt could shatter at any given moment, and her words, or at least the splinters he heard haunted his soul.

A lullaby perhaps? They certainly felt similar...

No, not quite. It was too solemn for a children's song. It was more like a requiem—a lilting dirge. Her words and the voice that sang them seemed hemmed in despair. Despairing, but not desperate. She sang as if this song foretold a destiny she had long since resigned herself to.

Oh, it's more than a dream.

Dream? No this wasn't a dream. At least it didn't feel like a dream... The floor beneath him gave way to an endless abyss, the voice echoing around him as he fell.

Oh, it's more than a dream...

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. It had been just a dream. He scratched his chin. The ribbon that held his jaw shut had slipped loose during the night, leaving his mouth wide open. He gingerly slipped his sleeping mask off his head and flinched as his eyes struggled to adjust to the glow of his halo. Staring up at the dark wooden ceiling, he mulled over his thoughts. It wasn't anything new. Over the years he had seen this dream multiple times. He had tried to seek guidance from Satanael, but the wizened man was as useless as he was old, and old couldn't even begin to describe his master. He was literally ancient. The Old Man spoke about the golden days of Pax Lateranica as if it was yesterday.

"You haven't lived until you've seen a buxom Sankta Legate in uniform. Ah, youth..."

That was centuries ago, you fossil. An absolute pervert, his master was.

Having been adopted, he had never met his biological father. He had died before he had been born, leaving him and that abhorrent wench behind—the woman he called his mother. Thus, the only adults he knew were the Old Man and his entourage of monks.

There was a single female monk, but she was more like a little sister than an adult. She was older than him, but her personality made her seem younger than she was.

The Sankta smiled and slowly got out of bed. The wooden floor groaned in protest under the sudden weight. He grabbed an oral device from his nightstand and stuffed it in his mouth, fixing it over his teeth with his tongue. He sighed with satisfaction as the device pulled his lower jaw up and closed his mouth. It was a bit cumbersome to rely on an artificial muscle, but what choice did he have? He shuffled over to a body-length mirror that hung by the foot of his bed. He sighed. As usual, his short white hair was an absolute rat's nest. He wouldn't be surprised if the Old Man had brought a cow in the middle of the night just to lick his hair. That sounded like something he would do. Never mind the logistical nightmare that was herding a cow up the tallest mountains in Terra. That certainly would have been a sight to see.

Aurelian hummed. At least his eyes worked without assistance—Sort of. They were almost entirely red, except for a single black ring around where his pupils should have been. In theory, he should be blind, but yet here he was inspecting his infernal bedhead.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a cranky voice, hollering from the floor below. "Aurelian, you brat! You better be out of bed!"

"I'm awake, ya crone!" He 'smiled'. The device worked wonders as it filtered the nasal tone from his voice. Aurelian couldn't resist the temptation, "Shouldn't you be leaving? I heard the curators at the museum want their bones back!" Sure it was a low-hanging fruit, but a fruit was a fruit.

The quip from the Old Man came without hesitation: "I heard your mother wants these bones back!" Aurelian pitched back with laughter. Never change Old Man—never change. Aurelian held a great amount of respect and admiration for his adopted father, despite his eccentric nature.

He angled his head slightly as he traced a hand over the twisted wreck he called his 'face'—if it could still be called that. He could almost fit his entire palm over the void where his right cheek should have been. His nose was gone and so were parts of his upper lip. It looked like someone had tried to scrape the flesh from his bones, but couldn't quite get the job done. Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, he couldn't recall who, or what had condemned him to a life as a social outcast.

He couldn't remember much about his 'past life' as he had taken to calling it. A part of him felt grateful for his lack of memories, because what little he did remember hadn't painted a pretty picture.

Thankfully, despite his hideous and frightful appearance, his master had taken him in without a second thought.

Aurelian knew Satanael had tried to give him a normal life, but it was difficult when he could scarcely utter a word without his mouthpiece. He understood that Satanael wasn't belittling him with his jokes and pranks. It was his way of fostering normalcy and bringing a smile to his ghastly visage. The thought that he'd never smile properly weighed heavily on Aurelian's mind, but he liked to pretend that it didn't. If only for his master's sake. It was the least he could do to assuage his concerns.

Deciding his hair was a lost cause, Aurelian turned away from the mirror and grabbed a long white coat that hung neatly from his bed.

He shimmied his arms through the long sleeves and fumbled with the hidden buttons. Damned things, he knew it was an aesthetic design choice, but who in the world thought it was a good idea to make it harder to button a coat? As it was, Aurelian already had a hard time fastening buttons in the correct order, never mind the fact these buttons were hidden. It was almost impossible to fit the round abominations through the tiny holes hidden behind the lapel. He sighed.

After he finally fastened the last button, Aurelian straightened the coat's high collars and left the room.

Traveling down the flight of stairs, he paused when his foot struck a loose floorboard. It squeaked. He smiled as he was reminded of memories from his early adolescence. Squeaky board! He quickly stepped back and placed his foot on top of the loose floorboard for a second time. It squeaked. He retreated his foot and replaced it. It squeaked again.

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

"God damn it, boy! If you don't knock it off, there won't be any breakfast for you!"

Squeak

"I mean it!"

Aurelian chuckled as he ran down the remaining stairs. He found his master, Satanael, slouched in a chair by a wooden dining table. He hadn't bothered to look up from his lap. "Ready for the day?" Aurelian nodded.

The Old Man was, quite frankly, a mess. Not that he seemed to care. Satanael was a bit of a lazy bastard and he was proud of it. There was only one man in all of Higashi who could spit into a spittoon halfway across the hall and his name was Satanael.

Or so he had been told.

Then again, chewing tobacco had been outlawed in Higashi for almost a century, so there hadn't been much competition. His master ran a hand through his hair. Had Satanael been younger, Aurelian would have described his hair as 'curly brown peppered with gray', but at his advanced age it had become more akin to 'curly gray peppered with brown'. Satanael spared a glance towards his student. "Sit down." With a nod, Aurelian maneuvered around the table and sat in a chair across from his master.

Satanael took a deep breath. "Aurelian, these six years have been the happiest of my life, but I'm afraid that the time has come for us to part. It is said that all under heaven can bear witness to happiness only because there is sorrow. So we too must come to—"

"Are you reading from a script?"

An awkward silence hung in the air. Neither man spoke. He couldn't believe that his old man thought he wouldn't notice. The sage cleared his throat and, still looking at his lap, asked in a low voice. "What makes you think that?"

Aurelian hummed. "Well... normally, you're never this articulate and I mean... honestly, I didn't even know you could read."

Satanael finally looked up. "Brat! I'm old, not stupid. If I couldn't read, I wouldn't have been able to teach you how to read, idiot."

"The monks taught me how to read," Aurelian said. "Besides, reading is boring. You taught me how to kick ass and take names."

The old man threw his head back and laughed. "You're damn right, kid! You're going to be a fine man one day. Those monks are too weak. The only thing better than sex is a good fight." He said through a crooked grin.

Aurelian blanched; his adoptive father could be quite crass at times. Satanael, unconcerned with Aurelian's reaction, crumpled his script into a ball and lazily tossed it towards a nearby basket. It struck the rim and fell to the floor.

"You said you could—"

"Shut up, it's not a spittoon."

Aurelian shrugged.

Satanael pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "Well, now that my speech is ruined, here's the main point: you're leaving. Take this stick, go to Minos, forge your destiny, et cetera" he said, counting down his fingers.

Aurelian blinked, momentarily stunned. "Wait, did you just say that I'm leaving?"

The old man nodded.

"As in, 'leaving' leaving?"

"I wasn't aware there was another kind of leaving."

Aurelian could only stare in shock. Of all the things he expected his master to say, 'get out of the house' definitely wasn't one of them. He had assumed that it would simply be another boring day in the life of Lucius Aurelian.

After a moment's silence, Aurelian pulled himself together. "Woah, hold on. Back up. Care to explain where this is coming from all of a sudden?"

"Well, I just got off the phone—"

"What's a phone?"

Satanael's brows scrunched together in confusion. "What'd you mean what's—Oh. Right. You've never left the temple." He sighed. "In that case, let's just say a little birdie told me that you need to find something in the capital city of Minos and—"

"What am I looking for?"

Satanael glared at him. "Kid, can you hold your questions for, like, five minutes?"

Aurelian nodded.

"Always in a rush..." He muttered under his breath. "You'll know when you get there. You'll see a sign, trust me, you can't miss it."

"I'm confused. Why do I even need to leave in the first place? Why can't this 'little birdie' of yours find that 'something' by itself? Why send me?"

Rather than respond, the old man trudged over to a nearby door in silence. Aurelian watched as he withdrew a metallic key from his back pocket. "I knew this day would come," he sighed as he fumbled with the lock. The deadbolt retracted with a dull thump. He pulled. The door whined and shrieked as though fighting to stay closed. Slowly, it opened to reveal a closet. Satanael crouched down and began rummaging through the small space.

"I just wished we had a little more time." He said, his voice muffled by the enclosed space. "There are a couple of things that your father—oh, there you are." With a grunt, the old man rose to his feet and stepped out of the closet. In his left hand, he held an ornate helmet; in his right, a peculiar stave. He gently laid the objects on the wooden table. Satanael huffed as he returned to his chair, finishing his sentence as he sat: "That your father wanted you to have when you were ready."

Aurelian looked perplexed. He pointed at his master, then towards himself. Satanael chuckled at his unspoken question. "No, not me. Your real father." He gestured for Aurelian to sit beside him. The Sankta rose from his chair and sat next to his adopted father.

"How did you know my father?"

"That's a story for another time."

Aurelian didn't push any farther. Perhaps he'd become stubborn with age, or maybe it'd always been part of his personality. Regardless, once Satanael made a decision, nothing could change his mind. Aurelian had learned this well over the years.

Satanael lifted the helmet from the table and handed it to his ward. It shone brightly as the morning light danced off its surface. "This was your father's. He called it the 'Solar Helm'."

He turned the helmet over in his hands, marveling at its strange design. The main body was wrought of silvery metal, accentuated by a golden faceplate and matching trim. He was particularly intrigued by the horizontal crest of spikes that protruded from the top. Holding the helm at arms' length, he supposed they resembled beams of sunlight. Maybe that's why it's called the Solar Helm, he thought to himself. Most of all, Aurelian appreciated the faceplate—it was as though it was designed to conceal his sullied visage. He did, however, find the expression quite perplexing. Rather than something ferocious or intimidating, the faceplate bore a neutral, even stoic expression, as though it were indifferent to the violence of the battles it had observed.

He looked up at his master. The man wore a nostalgic smile. Aurelian could almost see the memories swimming amongst the proud mist in his eyes.

Satanael gestured towards his son with a nod of his head, "Go on. Try it on."

Aurelian gingerly raised the helm over his head. His golden halo floated off to the side, allowing him to safely fit the helmet over his head. He moved slowly—deliberately. He was afraid it would break. Aurelian was surprised by the ease and comfort at which the helmet fit. He was equally surprised by how much he could see through the mask. He looked up at Satanael.

"How do I look?"

The old man let out a belly-rumbling guffaw. In his excitement, Aurelian had forgotten to fasten the helmet's chin strap. The two cheek guards dangled uselessly to either side. "Like a fucking idiot." He reached out and jiggled the two loose ends. "Ya' forgot to fasten your flippers, boy."

Aurelian's face flushed red. "Hey!" Quickly, he buckled the hanging flaps and tightened them around his chin. "How 'bout now, asshole?"

Satanael chuckled. "Better."

Unlike most helmets Aurelian had seen—not that he had seen many—the Solar Helm covered his head from top to bottom. Not a single area was left unprotected. It was perfect. He could hide his face from the world, and no one could judge him for it.

Satanael then took the staff that lay across the table and placed it in the palms of Aurelian's hands. "This," he said, "is an ancient Higasian weapon known as the shakujou."

The tip of the staff was adorned with an ornate spade-like frame that held seven loose rings. The staff itself was made of durable wood. Coated with an ebony varnish, the pitch handle possessed a mysterious vibe.

Aurelian stared uncomfortably at the weapon in his hands. His eyes weren't quite sure how to comprehend the object before him. If the world around him was a piece of paper, then this staff would be the negative void left behind after a cutout had been removed.

Aurelian gave the staff a couple of experimental twirls. Its rings jingled against one another as the staff spun through the air. It was about as long as he was tall.

"I trained you in the art of staved combat for this—" Satanael was interrupted by a loud thunk as Aurelian accidentally slammed the staff into the wooden table. "Hey, watch it! Don't screw around in here. At least wait until you get outside!" Aurelian smiled sheepishly. "As I was saying, we trained specifically for this day. Not only in staved arts but also with your powers and abilities."

The Sankta grinned. "You sure it wasn't because you're too lazy to get yourself a glass of milk?"

"Lucius." Aurelian's grin vanished as quickly as it had come. Satanael never used his forename unless he was in for a lecture. "Your powers are not to be trifled with. They aren't simple parlor tricks to show your friends. They aren't—"

Aurelian rolled his eyes. This again… With an outstretched hand, he commanded an unseen force to bend to his will. The old man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as his chair floated upward, hovering several inches off the ground. With a wave, Aurelian dismissed both his power and his master's concerns. The chair returned to the floor with a dull thunk.

"They aren't toys. Yeah, I know Old Man. You've only said it, like what, a hundred times?" His grin returned. "Trust me, I got it." Aurelian raised a hand once again, this time calling a nearby glass of water to him. It flew past with a speed significantly greater than he'd intended, collided with the wall, and exploded into a cloud of glass and steam. Aurelian chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

Satanael frowned. "You've always been foolhardy, but I know your heart's in the right place. You rarely show a sense of responsibility, though, and that worries me.

"You think you understand, but you don't. You're twenty-two years old, you aren't a kid anymore. I won't be there to clean up after you. Especially out there, Aurelian. Terra can be a very dangerous place. Your careless and flippant attitude only shows how unprepared you are for the consequences of your actions. You haven't the foggiest idea of how depraved a man can be.

"Aurelian, promise me. You must be careful."

Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Aurelian sat forward in his chair. "I will," he said with a nod.

Satanael sighed. That was the best he was going to get. "Good. As for why you specifically have to go, to be honest, you don't. I'd rather have you stay here than go out there.

"On the other hand, I can't keep you here forever. You and I both know that I'm not your real father." He patted Aurelian's newly armored head. "This helmet is proof of that. It's something to remember him by. Your father, that is." Satanael was silent for a brief moment.

"Your father was a Sankta from Laterano, however, your mother was not. That makes you only half Sankta," he said, making air quotes.

Aurelian scowled at the mention of his mother.

"Technically, it's impossible to be 'half Sankta'. A child can't be a Sankta if one of their parents isn't. It's only been seen a handful of times before." Satanael stopped to reconsider his words. "Well, before you, that is. You shouldn't have any of their traits, and yet here you are."

"As for your mother... I didn't know much about her: still don't. I never had the chance to meet her. I only heard of her from letters your father had written. He constantly fawned over her." As if he had been carefully considering his next words, he continued at a slow and deliberate pace.

"I know your memories are limited to your time here in Higashi. For some reason, you're unable to recall the first sixteen years of your life. Well... I said 'some reason', but I think you and I both know why." He tapped the right side of his cheek.

Aurelian unconsciously lifted his hand to his face but was blocked by the silver helmet.

"As crazy as it sounds, Aurelian. Sometimes, I believe it'd be best if you gave up your previous life and moved on: to discard your old memories. After all, just as you can't long for someone you don't remember, you can't grieve for a loss you don't recall.

"Yet, despite how carefree you act, I know how much it bothers you. And I don't blame you. If I had awoken on some god-forsaken beach without a single clue as to who I was, I'd be stressed too."

Aurelian watched as his father curled his hands into fists.

"Terra's a messed up place, kid. I mean look at you—practically half your face is missing. It's a miracle you survived." Placing his elbows on the table, the man hunched forward and held his head with a heavy sigh.

"And for what? For whom? I never believed in any of that religious crap your father raved about. If only he could see it now: see what that 'god' of his did to his son. Cursed him to live in hell, that's what he did.

"Sometimes I think we'd be better off cleansing this world of evil and starting anew. Maybe it's just humanity's destiny to succumb to evil. Regardless, you have to go. Your destiny lies out there in Terra. Not in here. Yes, this 'little birdie' of mine can find that little 'something' on their own, but this is an opportunity for you to finally leave this rotting excuse of a temple."

Aurelian moved to protest, but Satanael cut him off before he could speak. "Don't try to hide it, boy. I know you want to leave. You're a century too young to fool this old man." He chortled. "Look what you made me say!"

Aurelian had always known his memories were incomplete. After all, it's hard, no, impossible to ignore the fact that he couldn't remember his real name. Lucius Aurelianus was simply the name Satanael had given him when he found him on that beach six years ago. How the old man knew his father was beyond him. The fossil had always been evasive when it came to such topics.

Countless nights, had he lain in bed, staring up at the stars through his window wondering who he truly was. Who was his father? Had he loved him? Had he been a good son? Did he have siblings or a girlfriend? He had long since dreamed about leaving the mountain temple to investigate his past life, but it had felt incredibly rude to ask the man that had saved him if he could leave on an adventure across Terra.

"Hey dude, I know you risked your life to save me and all. And I'm super thankful for the six years worth of food and water, but now that I'm all safe and stuff, I'm going to, like, nope on out of here without repaying a single favor and like, go galavanting about the countryside." He owed Satanael his life: a favor not easily repaid. Thus, Aurelian had long since resigned himself to a life of indentured servitude. To hear that not only had that very savor accepted his dream, but also given his blessing? It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Almost, that is.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Who knows, kid? The world is as mysterious as it is shity. I've been around for thousands of years, I think I can hold on for another decade or so. We'll see what life has in store for us." With that, Aurelian grabbed his staff and prepared to pack his belongings.

Satanael stood atop a set of stone stairs as he watched Aurelian wave goodbye from the bottom of a hill. He hunched forward with narrowed eyes, struggling to make out the scene below him. Aurelian's opened hand had curled into a single long finger. The old man leaned back and chuckled with a shake of his head, "Cheeky bastard." Maybe he should have forced the kid to stay, Terra wasn't ready for another Satanael.

The crunch of gravel beneath hurried feet pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes flicked toward the disturbance. It was a Perro monk. Unlike Satanael, who was dressed in a simple shirt, the young woman was wrapped tightly in a black and blue accented kimono that accentuated a rather impressive figure.

"Master Satanael!" She called, her voice as cheerful as ever, "Doth thou believeth the young master to beest readie?" Despite the two years she held over Aurelian, she had always spoken of him with such reverence.

"Nah, the runt's fucked..."

She staggered back with a gasp. What little color there had been quickly drained from her pale face. Her ears shot upright. "Master! Such language is unsuitable for a Di—"

"Ah quit the drama, Saga. In a million years, when archeologists dig up this god-forsaken place, not a single one will care about any of my words. All that matters are the actions we take," he explained as he returned his gaze to Aurelian's shrinking silhouette, "and whether or not we leave people happier than when we first met them. Got it, Bitch?"

Saga sighed, "Thine utterance would have been a perfect quote for the analects. Thou ought to refrain from such foul language. 'Tis hard to believe the kind and gentle young master was rais-ed by such scum. This Saga will truly miss him."

"Suck my dick, fuzzball. If you want to follow your little boy toy, then go right ahead. I need someone to guide him. He'll probably get himself killed by the first car he sees."

The Perro's ears flattened against her head as she flushed red. "Once again, master Satanael mistaketh this Saga's honest feelings of respect and admiration for love. There is nothing of the sort between the young master and Saga."

The old man humphed in amusement, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid. If you're going to go, you'd best leave now."

Face aflush, Saga disappeared in a blur of black and blue.

Aurelian walked aimlessly through the busy streets of Higashi. As he walked, the rings of his shakujou clicked against one another with an audible jingle. He had taken to using the weapon as a sort of walking stick. It certainly helped him traverse the steep hills surrounding the temple and he had seen no reason to stop, so he continued walking with the staff despite having left the mountainous terrain hours ago. The capital city of Higashi (unironically also called Higashi) was a busy place. Workers and students bustled about like ants on a hill. It had all seemed random to Aurelian, but like ants, he was sure every one of them had a purpose. The movement of each individual seemed random at a glance, but when taken as a whole, each individual was a vital contribution to a larger society that, without the individual, would cease to function as a system altogether. They were like cogs in a machine. Sure, each cog could move independently, but without each other, they might as well have been shity pinwheels.

As he walked amongst the crowd, Aurelian felt a bit claustrophobic. Of course, there was ample space all around him, but never in his life had he been surrounded by so many people all at once. It was a lot to take in. He much preferred the solitary life in the temples to the hustle and bustle of the city. It reminded him of a story Satanael had once told him, about the 'Country Zalak and the City Zalak' and he was very much a 'Country Zalak'. Aurelian sighed as he passed by a sort of eatery. Intrigued, he took a few steps back and peered through the window. A handful of customers sat in chairs at tables for their afternoon meal. He found it strange. Why pay precious money to have some unknown person cook his food when he could prepare his own meal from vegetables from his garden? It was free and he didn't have to worry about someone poisoning his meal.

He noticed something peculiar about the food they were eating. He pressed himself up against the glass with his free hand in an attempt to get a better look. He paled. The monk felt sick to his stomach. "Oh god, is that meat!?" The senior monks had always warned him that consuming meat was a grave sin that could be punished by reincarnation in Preta—the realm of starvation. All these people were condemning themselves to life as a hungry ghost. Luckily, due to the advanced degradation of his face, he couldn't eat meat.

By then, the patrons of the restaurant had noticed Aurelian staring into the establishment. They whispered to each other nervously about a cloaked man with a fearsome golden mask. Only then did Aurelian realize that he hadn't eaten breakfast. He had been so excited that he had completely forgotten about eating! The bastard hadn't even attempted to remind him either! "And I don't have any money!" Miles away, an old man laughed in silence.

He pushed himself away from the window and continued his walk. "What the bumblebee, dude. At least feed your kid before he leaves." He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the other pedestrians had left his side. Aurelian found himself standing alone on an ashen paved road.

That's strange…where is everybody? The masked monk was torn from his conundrum by a monstrous scream. His head snapped in the direction of the ear-splitting caterwaul. About sixty paces away, a monstrous beast barreled towards him at speeds unknown to man. Its eyes glowed like two suns as it belched out another explosive roar. He froze. Perhaps if he remained still, the beast would simply ignore him and move on. A thin pair of arms wrapped around his waist and violently pulled him from the path of the oncoming collision. Aurelian and his savior fell backward on top of one another, his staff falling to the wayside. "Holy mother of God, what the hell was that?!" He cried still in the arms of his savior. Bystanders watched as the beast sped away. They began to congregate around the fallen monk.

"Did you see that?"

"He must be insane! Did you see how he just stood there?"

"Shut up, show some respect! Get a look at those robes. He must be a sage from Mount Yamato!"

I'm not a sage, I'm a monk.

"That would explain his confusion…"

"And his halo! He must be a holy sage!"

Monk.

"To think I would live to see a real monk! The epitome of Higasian philosophy!"

Thank you!

A familiar voice drowned out the incoherent prattle surrounding him. "Yond vehicle, young master, was a Trock!"

He recognized that energetic tone. Always rearing to go, she was. Hoping to confirm his theory, Aurelian turned his head to the side, but as expected, his helmet blocked his peripheral view. He couldn't catch a glimpse of the woman laying beneath him. He wiggled about to free himself from her iron grasp. Sensing his intentions, she released him from her embrace. He placed a trembling hand beneath him in an attempt to prop himself up, however, his palm was met with an unexpected warm suppleness. A creeping sense of dread slowly washed over him as his finger sunk into the soft flesh. The woman gasped. Whatever he had grabbed, it was not the ground. The crowd fell silent.

A sole voice cut through the crowd. "Well, he's fucked."

Hoping to draw upon courage, Aurelian swallowed his fear. "Erm... Saga?" He started nervously.

"Yes, young master?"

"Is that you?"

"Yes. 'Tis Saga. If you are safe, may this Saga request you remove your hand from her bosom?" Her sudden change in vocabulary hadn't escaped his attention. Her manner of speech betrayed her outwardly calm appearance.

"Oh, uh yeah. Sorry." With his body still shaking with adrenaline, Aurelian quickly rolled over and brought himself to a sitting position. He was treated with the rare view of a mortified Perro monk: face flushed, eyes screwed shut, ears flattened, and lips scrunched together with a tremble. She had been attempting to calm her nerves for the past couple of minutes and struggled to do so under the watchful eye of her companion. "Are you okay?"

Saga remained silent.

A minute had passed before the color slowly receded from her face. She took a deep breath with a nod. "Yes, this Saga is fine, young master." Aurelian rose to his feet and offered a hand to his fellow monk. "Ah yes, a thousand pardons."

Aurelian willed his shakujou to his side and caught it mid-flight as it zipped toward him. "Saga, what was that?" He asked, giving the staff a couple of twirls. It seemed like nothing had been broken. Yet he was still reeling from the near-death experience.

The young Perro's eyes lit up with wonder, seemingly forgetting her embarrassment. It seemed he had tickled her fancy. "Yond was a Trock, young master! Thou'st seen the speed at which it travels, yes? Think of it akin to a mechanical horse." She explained. "Oh, the wonders of modern Tachnology!"

"The fuck's a horse?"

Saga pinched the bridge of her nose with a pitying smile. "Woe is he who cannot fathom the grandeurs of modern 'Tachnology'. Let this Saga explain. First, thou must understand the idea of 'Elektricitee'."

Aurelian sighed. This was going to be a long journey.

Canon Divergences: Saga does not get trapped and instead safely left and returned to the temple.