My dear sister's ultimatum may have been justified, but that made it no less troubling. Putting my ghosts at my back and an uncertain future to the fore was a disconcerting feeling, even more so since it was undertaken in such unexpected company. Though I still grieved Anthony (as confused and painful as even my grief was) and I had no love of life in the capital… it was another thing entirely to join a rebellion I still believed to be doomed.
I didn't really make up my mind until one of my reports. Back home, Eltereth was waging her own personal protest of Glabatorix's increasingly harsh methods (she was never quite herself after we lost Xanist) and my master was mad enough to kill. He barely even registered my meek (and abridged) report as he raged… and the final piece slid into place for me: anywhere but there. I was willing to go anywhere at all, so long as I never had to go back to that room; face that man. I gave Verra my answer and trudged after her little family to Aberon. We waited two days for an audience with the lord of the city. Or, rather, we waited for an audience with the self-styled King of Surda.
Veronica, her household, and I stood together in a stuffy "antechamber". Once it had been a simple smoking room, but it had long since lost the ease and comfort best suited to such spaces. The room's lavish furnishings were pressed tightly to the walls, each one more garish than the last and ranging in style over centuries. The once fine rug had a faded patch running straight between two doors from hundreds of tramping feet. We waited for over an hour. The only thing that disturbed the musty heat was the occasional passage of servants to and from the office.
At long last, the door opened, and an older gentleman stepped forth. He bowed his head and held the heavy wood portal open as he said, "His Majesty will see you now."
Our ragged band breathed a heavy sigh and filed into the office. It was a rectangular room paneled in light, warm wood. Directly in front of us, the widest wall was occupied mostly by three luxurious windows. They back-lit a tall wooden chair atop a makeshift dias, layered with small rugs to conceal the slap-dash construction. An empty hearth covered one wall, decorated with green glazed tiles. Opposite it, an ornate desk had been carelessly shoved against rows of bookshelves. Teetering papers and scrolls nearly absorbed the structure, save a small workspace where a secretary with rolled-back sleeves scribbled frenetically on a scrap of paper. He handed the paper to a man at his shoulder who glanced it over with an approving nod.
Even at the court of Uru'baen, he would have been a conspicuous man. He was tall, sported a full blonde beard, and spoke with a sonorous rumble. He was dressed in a flamboyant orange doublet over a maroon tunic, with the collar area folded double and weighed down by a heavy emerald brooch. He could have been imposing, but he radiated a sort of confidence and approachability that excused his excentricities. The servant departed and he swiveled around to greet our group."Greetings, travelers," he said warmly, spreading his hands."Welcome to my home, Borromeo Castle in the soon-to-be capital of Surda."
He's awfully brave to introduce himself as a traitor. I wiggled an eyebrow at Verra.
Not if it's common knowledge. And besides, what could we do? She sniffed and looked away.
Plenty.
"I understand that your journey has been difficult, exceptionally so, and I am most impressed with the ground you managed to cover. It shows a certain tenacity, ferocity, and reliability that is very critical in our allies." He sank into the high-backed chair and took on a more serious tone. "My condolences for the loss of your home. I promise you, once we have defeated the empire, you shall be repaid tenfold for your sacrifices."
"You are most kind, Majesty."
"But that is not the only subject of which you wanted to speak, correct?"
"That's right, sir." The patriarch gave a half bow. "Our housemaid claims to have information that is very crucial to Your Highness; her and her sister."
The man's expression seemed amused. "Is that so? Well then, what intel do you have for us, my lady?" He turned that dazzling smile to Verra.
She dropped her eyes and did her best to curtsy. "My sister and I would rather tell you alone, Your Highness."
The king blinked down at her. "I see… and, do you approve of this?"
Her employer bowed again. "I trust Verra completely, Sire."
"Very well. Please wait in the hall a moment, I have more to discuss with you."
Our traveling companions shuffled back into the waiting room.
Verra stood a little straighter. "Your highness, sir…" she shifted a bit and looked back at me. "My sister has something to tell you."
Damn it . I gathered my thoughts and shot Verra an irritated from."Your Majesty," I dropped a bow. Under pressure, the customs more suited to my teachers jumped ahead of any other lessons. "My name is Lilly. My companion here is Veronica. We are the bastard twin daughters of King Galbatorix." My audience's eyes nearly doubled in size. "I have lived with our father and the forsworn for the past eleven years, and I have been his student for the past six. About two months ago I was sent out of Uru'baen to assess the status of the rebellion. In so doing I was reunited with my sister. She urged me to use my abilities to aid the insurgence. After some consideration, I have acquiesced." I paused to allow the king to catch up.
He rested an elbow on his armrest, dropped his chin into his palm, and stared hard at me."You have come with quite the tale," He said slowly. "It seems we ought to start from the beginning. I would like to hear both of your stories in full, and then we can discuss your futures."
So we told him. Verra went first, her voice cracking with emotion as she described her ordeals. When he turned to me, I wasn't sure how to begin. How could I sum up any of the past years in a way he could understand? Did he even deserve to understand? I tried to keep as business-like a tone as possible. "After the attack, Morzan and Galbatorix took me in. They came looking- for us, I can only assume. I grew up in their base of operations during the war, participated in the battle for Illeria, and have served since then as a student and heir apparent to… our father." It felt so odd to refer to him that way, especially to a stranger.
"Student in what, if I may ask?" a glint surfaced in his brown eyes. He seemed in so many ways like a drowsing lion: ostensibly unthreatening but a hunter all the same.
I hesitated. "In many things, Sir. In life, in history, in language-"
"All nobility receive an education, but none directly from their parents."
I glanced at Verra. She nodded encouragingly, though she seemed to be holding her breath. I tugged off one worn glove and spread my hand, letting the afternoon sun catch my silvery palm. "In everything, Your Majesty."
Pure awe overtook his expression, his jovial light returning. "You are Shur'tugal!"
"Not fully. I am a student, no more-"
"But you have a partner? A dragon?"
"...Yes-"
"And you have turned against the Usurper! This is nothing less than a miracle, you understand?"
"... Perhaps."
My trepidation did not please him. "Honored Rider, why would you have come if not to aid us?"
I took a moment to parse out a response. In the meantime, the room grew utterly silent. I could almost feel the nervous tension threatening to explode out of the man in front of me. A desperate man, I realized. He had begun a war that anyone could see he had no chance of winning. Our arrival was nothing less than his most fervent, impossible prayer.
I squared my shoulders.
"I cannot defeat our father; no one can," I thought for a moment that he would scowl, but his lips only twitched. "Even so, I know almost everything about him and the Forsworn, more than anyone else in the world. I know some magic, and I know how he is likely to handle this war. I also have not made myself a known enemy of the crown… yet. I have unique access to the capital. Verra and I can communicate very easily across any distance. I can feed you information on his plans as they develop to keep you one step ahead of the Empire, and when it comes to battle I can prepare your men to face the Thirteen."
He absorbed my speech in tactful silence. "I would urge you to reconsider and join us in the field. We need every spellcaster we can muster to hold the forsworn at bay, and even a fledgling rider could change the tide."
"No. If I do, it will ensure a crushing defeat. It would provoke Galbatorix into attacking you with full force. A political uprising is one thing, but I promise you that he takes personal betrayal even more seriously. If I openly stand beside you, he will make an example out of us all."
He sighed deeply, "I understand, though I wish it were not so. You have provided a means by which we may be able to salvage our position. But I must ask you… why? Why would a princess sacrifice so much just to assist her family's enemy? I understand that Miss Verra had a very different life, but I must have this answer from you."
I couldn't hold my response long enough to seem dignified. "Because he has done his damnedest to make my life a living hell." I bared my teeth in mirthless amusement, "I at least intend to put up a fight."
Approval glowed in the man's eyes. "Then I welcome you to Surda, Rider Lilly. You and your sister will have rooms in the castle of course-"
"Just Verra, Your Majesty. I need to leave at once if I am to avoid suspicion."
"Before you do, I would insist that one of my personal attendants examine your mind. What is the old adage… if it seems fantastic, it's likely fantasy?"
I blinked at him. "Absolutely not."
He stood abruptly. Instinctively I wanted to step back, but I held firm. For Galbatorix, I would cower without shame… but not for anyone else. "Explain your refusal, if you come to us in good faith." He kept his voice level, though it was raked with suspicion.
"I have no more love for Galbatorix or his government than I have for festering meat," I spat. More vitriol showed in my voice than I really intended. "The most dangerous thing I could have done was leave you to face him alone, which I have not done. If it is proof you require, then you may either take these words or allow me to prove myself through actions." Before he could speak, I repeated myself in the ancient language, making sure to mirror the inflections so he could follow my meaning better. Though he was clearly no mage, he could not fail to understand. I stood stiff-backed, awaiting his reply.
He inhaled, swallowed, and bowed his head. "Then I look forward to working with you."
I bowed low, almost numb with relief that my little gambit paid off. "And I with you, Highness."
I returned to Uru'baen filled with dread. I could, of course, confess all and become a triple agent, but something in me wanted to pursue this path to the end… even if that led me to follow my dear Anthony to an early grave. The only one to whom I confided was Katana. She disliked the idea of me acting as an informant for reasons innumerable, especially since I didn't consult with her first. Still, she accepted my decision and even offered her wisdom as I took up my new post. I was grateful for any help I could receive; I had a difficult dance to perform. She was the one who helped me choreograph my new role, including a particularly beneficial gambit involving the merchants of Uru'baen.
The merchant guild's stomping ground was one of the most lively buildings in the city. The air was thick with smoke from a dozen different sources. Lamps coated in soot swung on dingy chains, a roaring hearth kept the winter chill at bay, and several of the club's attendants puffed at smoldering pipes. Mead and ale ran freely here as each of the regulars tried to one-up their fellow merchants. Most of them would be too sick the next morning to remember their own mother, let alone a quiet stranger in unassuming traveler's garb.
It was moments like this that I was grateful Veronica was the curvier, more effeminite twin. My athletic and uninteresting build wasn't good for much, save for disguising my identity, and particularly my gender. Draped in rough, baggy clothes I appeared to be a page drinking off his meager allowance, the kind of scrawny youth no one would give a second glance… save for someone who knew what to look for. My date for the evening slid onto my bench with a hearty sigh. His mug sloshed amber liquid over my lap. I gritted my teeth and wordlessly grabbed a pitcher from a serving girl and refilled it. He lifted it in thanks and drained the vessel in two hearty quaffs. "War is a merchant's delight, lad! People will pay anything for goods that aren't worth a damn! A lousy time to be a farmer, misery to all blacksmiths as they get worked to death… but it's a merchant's paradise!"
"Yessir," I agreed. "Where about is your next sack of shit headed?"
"To the highest bidder, o'course!" He banged his mug against the rough tabletop. "And His Majesty's got that claim, of that there's no doubt! Empire's coffers run deep; much deeper than those poor sods in… what d'they call themselves now? 'Surda' Piss poor name for a country, that."
"The shipment, Mr. Umber," I rested a steadying hand on his arm before he could shower me in cheap booze again. "With haste, if you please. You've already kept me waiting all evening." The trouble with drunk assets is that they aren't known for their punctuality.
He swallowed, hiccuped, and nodded. "Restocking the camp on the southern tip of Leona Lake," he stared into his empty cup with an equally empty gaze. "How much longer are we going to do this? Thirteen more people went to the block just yesterday. If they round me up too-"
"They won't, so long as you keep your head down. Collect your profits and leave the rest to me." I slid a small pouch of gold coins into his hand and got to my feet.
"And… I helped enough to… for you to not…" He worried the coins between his fingers, equal parts greed and shame tearing at his face.
"Your secret is safe with me. Just… maybe consider talking to your wife someday?" I patted his shoulder with compassion I did not feel. He groaned and grabbed at an abandoned mug, waving me off. I spied a trim, cocky, young man wading through the crowd to take my seat and toss a compassionate arm around Umber's meaty shoulders.
I couldn't exit the pub quickly enough . I took darkened side streets through piles of refuse and damaged furnishings until I had enough solitude to contact Verra. The rank filth mingled unpleasantly with my alcohol-soaked trousers, and I nearly gagged. You had better be waiting... I plucked a polished circle of metal the size of my palm from an inner pocket and whispered a scrying variation that would allow us to speak. The mirrors were enspelled so only she or I could use them, which required careful coordination of when to contact one another.
Made more complicated by Verra's nasty habit of missing deadlines.
Three separate times I tried to get her attention before her image appeared on the disc's surface. She was flushed and breathless, grinning like a fool. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and frizzed with obvious activity. She was draped on a garish chaise lounge in the home of one of her "friends". In the distance, I heard scattered laughter. "Greetings, sister dearest! How might I assist-"
"It's heading to the camp on the southern tip of Leona lake in three days."
She frowned, chewing her lip in disapproval. "Noted. So if that's all for business, let's talk about more important news. You remember Lord Stefan?"
"Unfortunately," Verra had an affinity, an addiction really, for charming young men. At the moment, a certain lordling had ingratiated himself with her. He was a layabout at best, unremarkable in every way save for his handsome features and ridiculous fortune. "What does he have to do with-"
"I heard from Cherry that Miles said that Benny told him-"
"The short version, please," I groused.
She rolled her eyes theatrically. "You're no fun to gossip with! Well, anyway, word around court is that he's going to marry after the war!"
I blinked, trying to keep a neutral face instead of returning her meaningless barbs. "Isn't that obvious? The King intends to give him lands; he'll need a wife if he wants sons to leave it to." As the 'only' child of a ruling monarch myself, I had heard talk of legacy so often that even a whiff of it sent me into a rage. Luckily for me, the head of my "household" was functionally immortal and therefore utterly unconcerned with precedents of inheritance.
Verra huffed, her mockery turning to real frustration. "Dummy, the one he's courting right now will likely become his wife! And, if he invites me to the next soire in Lady Solange's solarium, then there's a good chance he'll ask-"
"Verra, I could not care less about lady so-an-so's next… swearey? Whatever. I'm standing in a gutter here!" I angled the mirror down so she could get a glimpse of my muck-crusted boots. "If there's nothing important , I need to get going."
Cool silence met my outburst. Finally, Verra issued a curt, "Nothing of note, Princess." and severed her connection with the scrying glass.
I groaned and shoved the disc back into my jacket. For all of her wonderful qualities, my sister and I had completely different priorities. Our service in espionage was rewarded largely by the king taking Verra in as a sort of unofficial ward. As soon as Verra got a taste of noble life, all of her energies went to pursuing it. She was so obsessed with building a circle around herself at court that she forgot that "Surda" did not yet officially exist. If we lost this war, then neither her nor her friends would survive the year.
I doubled my pace, easing into one of the many half-crushed passages at the outskirts of town. It was dreadful work, sprinting through a boneyard… not to think of the disrespect! But nothing was worth Galbatorix discovering my extracurricular activities.
My toils in Uru'baen gave my poor, beleaguered allies a prayer of maintaining their footing against their starved and miserable foes. It helped that the royal army was still not up to Galbatorix's full ambitions. Every underperforming recruitment bought us precious time; time that we all knew could not last.
Finally, after months passed this way, I got a direct order from the king: deliver a package of information to his leading general to march in force and crush the rebellion. It was too urgent to be sent by a typical courier so Torix allowed Katana to accompany me, provided that we avoided confrontation. I snatched the opportunity to be done with Uru'baen, journeyed to the command post (a manor in the vineyards around Cithri), and handed over the folio. The King responded by proactively routing much of the Empire's forces straight back up the Surbrine. The unexpected offensive scattered nearly half of the royal army in a disorganized retreat.
After this, everyone could feel the razor's edge fast approaching. I switched roles from quiet informant to tactical advisor, covering every angle of Galbatorix's strategies up to and including advising our generals and magicians on how to survive the coming ordeal.
I rested my back against the cool garden wall. I had a limited view of the plants around, though they mostly consisted of manicured shrubs and soft grasses clipped at different heights to form swirling patterns. Flowers didn't fair particularly well in the scalding sun, but short clusters of periwinkle blooms flourished in the wall's shadow. Beside me, a towering owl topiary shaded me from the late-afternoon sun. I was grateful for the cool and dark; my head ached after hours of talking. I'd spent the better part of the day in conference with the king and his generals, I felt like I would melt in place from frustration.
Men.
Between the court in Uru'baen and the soldiers of Surda, all of my time revolved around men. Spying on one man for another man, arguing with the latter man because he didn't trust me to the job I had been assigned, then being told by a room full of them that I "didn't understand" the "nuanced strategies" of an assault team that I'd personally been part of! And the list of insults just kept growing; at least the forsworn looked down on me for tangible reasons. They were all full riders, I was only their student and I spent most of my life as their pet; of course they treated me like a particularly chatty gerbil. I expected it from them; I had not forseen it from… less capable men. I wouldn't have been able to keep my cool at all if not for Lady Marelda of Langfeld. She had taken over as a general after the loss of her husband early in the war. She was an unstoppable force, a favorite of the king, and one of the only people who offered me a modicum of respect.
The only group that was harder to deal with was the Mage Circle: a little gang of spell casters cobbled together from across Alagaesia. Their knowledge was eclectic at best, deeply unharmonic with one another, and rooted in secrecy so dense it was almost unintelligible. Working with them was like prying a multi-headed serpent from a bear trap: someone was bound to end up hurt. I groaned, shoved off the wall, and headed around back of the manor to the viper's den.
It felt as if everything had come full circle: A manor house to a palace, to the road, to sulking in the shadow, and now back to a manor house. Perhaps my destiny is to be transient; to never "belong" anywhere.
You belong with me. Katana's distant voice echoed in my head. She had found a hillock with a copse of trees to use as cover, and she spent most of the day snoozing like the slacker she was. The 'where' is immaterial.
Wouldn't you like a more permanent roost? I wheedled. Somewhere to nest, to defend… somewhere to feel safe?
Bah! Safety is for sheep, not for wolves. A hunter lives on the edge. Katana's arrogant tone was only half real. I sensed an undercurrent of pain at my suggestion, though I couldn't fathom its source.
You aren't a wolf and neither am I. If seven years of partnership taught me anything about Katana, it was that no amount of questioning would persuade her to open her heart until she was ready to do so. Until then, it was better to stand back and let the fire rage itself out. And even wolves have dens to raise their cubs.
That touched a sore place. She snapped, Pedantics will not avail you. The earth itself is my home, and everything upon it may as well be livestock.
You're starting to sound like Shruikan. When our elder chose to speak at all, it was often in similarly grandiose terms. Though the Windwalker's dragon still outsized him considerably, he had grown more in a few decades than most dragons did in a century with Galbatorix's meddling. Even for a species of creatures already famous for their proud nature, Shruikan was exceptionally arrogant.
Like rider; like dragon. Katana sent the old adage with obvious venom.
I cringed and severed the mental connection. The phrase came up often around the forsworn, especially after the banishing. Often, bonded partners would share key personality quirks: tempers, ego, senses of humor… it was equal parts insult and compliment. But, as Katana had used it, the phrase had a more insidious meaning; she took after her elder and mentor… as I had taken after mine. She couldn't have chosen a more delicate nerve, and she knew it perfectly well. My future, my very life, depended on distancing myself from Gabatorix's shadow in any way possible. Most of our allies weren't even fully aware of my… "personal" connection with the current regime for my own safety.
Never mind the fact that the man was a complete bastard.
I shook off my musings. I'd reached the end of the estate and rounded on the back lawn, a smoothed flat field of wild grass that served as the Circle's primary meeting place. For some mysterious reason (that had nothing to do with an incident weeks prior where two of them had accidentally ignited a rug) we mages weren't allowed to convene indoors.
A semi-circle of men and women reclined in the grass, all facing a women standing atop a thick stump. Their leader, a woman named Sandy, looked sickly after her time on the front lines as a medic. They'd kept her working long past her body's reserves, to the very brink of collapse, and the strain still showed on her sharp, lined features. Her hoarse voice carried over her comrades as she said, "We must agree to share our knowledge between us! I understand how precious these secrets are to you all. They were guarded, mother to daughter, for decades and centuries untold in our clan. We guard our art so it may not be used to harm, but defeating the usurper must take precedence!" Some of her audience nodded along slowly, while many more looked askance and pretended not to hear.
"A good thought, but if I may interject?"
Sandy teetered, on the edge between bowing or turning up her nose. She gave a stiff nod and shook her dark brown hair back. "You are of course welcome to share any arcane knowledge that you feel would benefit our efforts. However, since-"
"You cannot defeat Galbatorix."
A rush of unsubtle whispering swept through the disciples. She sniffed. "Certainly no one mortal could compete with a rider and dragon. But, together -"
"One human or a hundred wouldn't make much of a difference in this case. If numbers were all we needed, Galbatorix never would have taken the throne to begin with."
My conversant's ire seemed to be mounting.
"Morale is often-"
"There is no need to prepare for battle with the king; it cannot be done. However, convincing him that Surda is not worth the trouble," I trailed off meaningfully, marking the wary expressions all around me, " that is an entirely different matter."
She pursed her lips and stepped back, extending a hand over the stump. " By all means."
I stepped forward and cleared my throat. "Galbatorix's mages are trained to systematically eliminate other magic users first before targeting the men they protect. This is an effective method, but not one that can easily be done on a large scale without leaving themselves vulnerable. The skill you must all master is how to subdue their probing before they can return the favor. Spreading us out thinly and evenly should best accomplish this, with the added understanding that when one is encountered the others will rally to their aid. This method should require very little actual spell work, so your knowledge may remain your own. However," everyone leaned forward anxiously, many with grim looks, "these methods will be all but useless against the forsworn, should any of them make an appearance. They will have the raw might to instantly subdue all who come before them."
"Then how do we defend ourselves?"
"The key is not in defense," I said simply, "You cannot be murdered by a dead man."
"But that goes against every law of magic-"
"And their very existence goes against every law of nature. It's true, the person who chooses to attack them will very likely be risking a grisly fate… but, should that person fail, worse than that will await every single man, woman, and child in Surda."
An older man at the back of the group lifted a hand. "What about the usurper?"
I lifted my chin, presenting confidence and concealing years of instilled dread. My words came out assuring and gentle, "He will not fight himself."
"How do you know?" He asked.
"I do."
"And what do we do if Galbatorix joins the fight himself, in spite of the odds?"
I looked directly into the man's eyes, and intoned precisely, "Drop to one knee and pray, or flee to the farthest corners of Alagaesia."
"You would advise our men to desert?!" Sandy balked at me. A chorus of agitated grumbling swept through the group, equal parts pride and disdain.
"You would not order an army to attack the ocean, or a mountain, or the Hadarac. You wouldn't ask a child to wrestle a dragon. Or an ant to march to the sun. If you want your soldiers slaughtered, then do it yourself. If you care for the people you choose to lead, then value their lives."
"If the situation is that hopeless, why fight at all?" A portly woman interjected.
"It is far from hopeless. We have every chance that Galbatorix will not confront us directly. If that is the case, then we have only to outwit his ingenuity, not overpower him."
"But can we?" The group hung on that question, the one to which so much had been left to chance and all of our lives now depended.
There was only one answer I could possibly give: "I can."
Arrogance, like slander, can only exist in the absence of truth. To be deluded, over confident and yet incapable is tantamount to sin among the forsworn (see Ellessar for a worthy example). So then… was it arrogant for me to insist I was prepared for this battle? I am still inclined to think not… because I did not delude myself, only deceived my allies into viewing the confidence they desperately required.
Honesty is not noble when it endangers the success of a mission, and by it the lives of thousands. One must recall that Galbatorix was more than a parent and mentor… he was violent, frightening, sometimes he even appeared omnipotent. I had set my course on confronting a man who was more like a demon, or a lesser god in my eyes… and I had nothing but a rough tactical approach and determination with which to bring him down.
I had to inspire my troops… and hope it would be enough.
AN: An extra-special MASSIVE thank you for my ever-supportive and wonderful Mom~ I called her in a panic earlier this very day and she fearlessly binge-read this whole story just to help me edit while my noble Aquata is unavailable~~ I don't know what I would do without these people I swear TwT Next week wraps up the war and we begin to dive into the more... personal consequences. Till then, I would very much appreciate any reviews, comments, questions, concerns, flames, memes, cookie recipes... no lie, I'm just bored XD
Also, today was the day! The next book set in Alagaesia was announced! *ringing bells and blaring trumpets echo across the web* My baby gets to be a narrator! *sniff sniff* I'm so proud~~~Hands up for those who already impulse preordered a copy... because, I'll level with ya, this launch has my wallet hostage! (food is temporary books are forever O.O )
If you need somewhere to reminisce, get caught up to speed, or just chill with like-minded nerds, I strongly recommend the Arcaena server (sweet trivia games and a dope project!) or Paolini Fans 2: Carvahall Boogaloo. (I mean, the name alone, ya'll. ) both on discord~ Also the best place to spy new fan projects of all sorts~~~
Oooh, speaking of which, I've been doing basically all of my writing to.. oh, all of Malte Wegmann's music. If you're not familiar with him, fix that asap because he's incredible!
