Darin looked at the empty throne room laid out before him.

  Blood stained the marble pillars, and the smell of burning flesh and wood in equal measure irritated his nose.

  The banners that had hung proudly at the sides of the hall now lay trampled upon, making for a sad picture of victory in war.

  Darin walked to the throne and touched its armrest with the tips of his fingers.

  He had never wanted to rule any kingdom, least of all this one. His home kingdom of Alternay.

  After he had made his pact with God, he had started a rebellion against the nobles. He had demanded they give some of the wealth they had taken from the people back to the people.

  The nobles had assembled their armies, and Darin had used his newfound powers to rout each army that had made its way to him.

  It had not been difficult. As Darin had immeasurable power, endless mana, and the power to make someone submit to him.

  It felt unreal.

  The nobles, with their armies defeated, still did not give in to Darin's demands. They simply tried fleeing with their wealth instead.

  Darin had not asked for all of their wealth. He did not understand why they would not just pay back what they had taken instead of risking their lives and the lives of those who served them.

  Why was wealth so important to them?

  He turned away from the throne and walked outside. His ragged army of bandits, peasants, and scorned soldiers was not really an army. It was a gathering of angry people.

  That did not matter much, as Darin's powers made fighting useless. This "army" of his were simply looters who would ransack the castles of nobles.

  This had been the last castle. The king had fled a month ago, and this castle was owned by a viscount or a baron or something.

  Darin found the noble titles confusing.

  The kingdom of Alternay had now been conquered. In the capital, some of his more intelligent followers were setting up some sort of government.

  All Darin had asked of them was to make the government second to God. They must all serve God.

  That was part of the pact that he had made.

  He still did not know much about this God. He talked with Darin sometimes, giving orders rather than advice.

  As Darin was thinking about it, God spoke.

  "Well done. You have succeeded faster than I anticipated." The tone did not fit the congratulatory words. It was cold, calculating, and imposing.

  "Thank you. What is next?" Darin asked. He knew that there had to be something more to God's plans.

  "The next kingdom, of course. And after that, the next." God answered.

  Darin was slightly confused. He was supposed to conquer all the kingdoms?

  "All of them?" Darin asked, already knowing the answer.

  "Of course." God responded.

  "Why?"

  "You have no need to know." God said, in a more annoyed tone now.

  That was it. That was all he got from his talk with God.

  Darin sighed. He had signed a pact with God to be his servant. To do his bidding. In exchange, he had gotten the power he needed to survive.

  But he had not even had that big an attachment to life, so he had asked for something else as well. He had asked for the people of the slums, the peasants, and those that suffered poverty to receive help.

  He had asked God to cure the diseases of the poor and grant them some sort of boost to their strength. Such that life would not be so insufferable for those that lived the life Darin had lived.

  God had accepted.

  But this is where Darin had made a mistake, as he was now unfortunately finding out.

  Darin had started suspecting that this God did not truly care for people. He seemed... detached. Cold.

  And as Darin had tried to refuse conquering the kingdom of Alternay, as he had no will to rule, God had shown some of his true colors.

  He had ordered Darin to do it, and through his order something else was woven in. A power that bent Darin to God's will.

  So Darin had conquered the kingdom of Alternay. And none of it had been his plans. He had simply followed orders, like a puppet on a string.

  It was useless to resist. Darin, of course, knew this, but he felt his spirit scream in rage as he was leashed by this unknown being.

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  Death would have been preferable, Darin thought suddenly.

  He drew his knife from his belt and held it in his hand. He wondered how painful it would be. As he was gathering his willpower, he felt a jolt of energy run from his head to his hand.

  It shone golden, and the knife dropped on the floor.

  Darin realized he was not even in power of his own life.

  ---

  Benoit and Kira had been traveling for a week or so and had gotten to a fairly sizable town on the western borders of the empire.

  It was filled with soldiers, adventurers, and monster hunters. It was a town that was used to setting out to the wilder lands to the west.

  The frontier forest where Mafu had been born was one of them. The gryphon mountains are another.

  Benoit signalled Kira to follow as he ducked into an alley, which was dimly lit.

  He quickly shuffled in between some drunkards and beggars and opened a door that was very hard to see.

  It was a tavern, hidden away not by design, but by its being dirty and crammed into a narrow alley.

  Benoit went up to the barkeep and ordered some bread and some water. It soon arrived, but neither Kira nor Benoit drank the water or ate the bread.

  Benoit was wearing a dark grey hooded cape, and his facial features were hard to discern. Another skill used by the assassin classes. Not even Kira truly recognized him.

  Kira was wearing a similar hooded cape, but hers was as black as the night. It hid her cat ears perfectly, and she kept her gaze low, as her cat eyes were hard to hide.

  She had learned some stealth skills. One of them made her less noticeable, but not in any way invisible. If someone were to scan the room, it was unlikely their gaze would get stuck on Kira.

  Yet, a woman was staring at her. She had raven-black hair flowing down to her shoulders. Her eyes were light gray and sharp as a knife's edge.

  She was beautiful, yet no drunkard noticed her. As she stood up, many of the rougher crowd drinking in the tavern stood up and walked to further tables.

  She had a wooden leg; it made low thumps as she approached Kira and Benoit. Kira threw a glance at Benoit, but he was as calm as ever.

  This must be why they are here, Kira reasoned.

  The woman had a long scar along the right side of her face, ruining what would otherwise be uninterrupted beauty.

  Kira smelled herbs and quickly recognized some of them as poisonous. These smells wafted off of the woman as she sat down in the free chair by their table.

  Her gaze looked at Benoit with interest, and she was the first one to speak.

  "So, old man Louis recommended I should listen to you. So go on, talk." She deftly took out a thin pipe, and Kira readied herself as she thought it might be a blowdart.

  It was simply a thin smoking pipe. The woman added some herb to it, and soon blue smoke started circling out of it in thin streaks.

  Benoit started speaking.

  "Aren't you tired of this life?" Benoit spoke in a monotonous voice, still hiding his facial features. It also had an effect on his voice, and it made his tone hard to place.

  "Tired? I have everything I want. Booze, money, and people who listen to the shit I order them to do." The woman smiled, a crooked smile that did not fit her beautiful face.

  "When was the last time you slept a full night? Or let down your guard for more than a second?" Benoit asked.

  The woman took a few seconds and just looked at Benoit. She inhaled some more of the blue smoke herb in the pipe and then answered.

  "There's no place where letting down your guard is possible." She dismissed Benoit with certainty.

  "Oh, there is. You just haven't thought of it. Maybe the great Mikaela is not so great at what she does after all?" Benoit now used a mocking tone, as if he was about to burst out in laughter at the cost of Mikaela.

  The woman, Mikaela, suddenly had an anger in her eyes that made her seem much more lethal, and Kira silently drew one of the knives Akro had forged for her.

  The moment passed as Mikaela's eyes lost their rage.

  "Mocking words from a stranger hold no weight, kid." She twirled the pipe in between her fingers.

  "Your enemies, other than the random gangs of thugs that sprout up every other day, are the faithful masses of the church, right?" Benoit continued.

  Mikaela looked to be in thought for a few seconds and then decided to answer.

  "Yes, as any shady business that grows too large. The church tolerates no large underworld activity; you know this as well, judging by your skills." She looked closer at Benoit and continued: "Life is not so easy for you assassins either, right? You are just as hunted as us. If you aren't hired by the church, that is."

  Kira saw the men she had judged as drunkards now wielding daggers, swords, and crossbows. They all seemed very much sober. She cursed herself for assuming they were drunk, falling for their trick.

  Benoit was as calm as ever.

  "Of course, being an assassin is not easy. "Old man Louis" is what you called him? You know he is under the employ of the church, right?"

  "Of course I know. But his loyalty is forced, and he only does what he is forced to do. A good source of information, that old man."

  "Well, he helped me find the third option. Instead of serving the church or being hunted by it, there is a third choice."

  "Really now? Are you sure you aren't a bard rather than an assassin, spinning this hopeful story?" Mikaela mocked, with certainty that whatever Benoit was selling was not worth buying.

  "Simply leave this world." Benoit concluded.

  "Dying isn't for me, assassin." Mikaela said dryly.

  Benoit looked confused for a second and then shook his head.

  "The portal."

  "You want us to leave for a savage land that even the empire can't invade? Is this really what you are selling? You must not be a very successful merchant."

  Benoit laughed, a rare and genuine laugh. Kira was surprised; she had only heard him laugh once before.

  "You are my first customer. I have been to this "savage world" you talk about, and there is a free kingdom there. A kingdom in need of capable people. Not ruled by any god."

  "You expect me to believe that bullshit?" Mikaela now put away her pipe and looked more annoyed than anything else.

  "You are an information broker, well known for having her fingers in a multitude of shady businesses, so you should know about the events that happened in the frontier forest a year or two ago?"

  "Some slaves escaped, some templars were killed, and a challenger disappeared or was killed. What of it?"

  "That is the creature that has created the kingdom on the other side of the portal. He and one of the templars who turned his coat."

  "A templar turncoat? Your sales pitch is becoming more and more ridiculous." Mikaela might mock Benoit's words, but an interest was clearly awoken in her now.

  "His mother had turned heretic and was amongst the people who fled the inquisition that was sure to arrive after the Templar's death." Benoit now drank some of the water and made a grimace as the lukewarm liquid passed his lips.

  "Alright. Let's say I believe you, which I don't, to be clear. What would the cost be to join this fantastic free kingdom of yours? Don't give me any bullshit about it being free."

  "Of course not. You and your men would simply do what you do best for the kingdom on the other side. Just as I am doing now." Benoit said as he put the water cup far away from himself.

  "So this kingdom wants me to do shady shit for them?" Mikaela looked amused at Benoit's reaction to the water cup.

  "Yes and no. As I said, a challenger rules the kingdom. They want to free slaves and people who want to leave this world and take them in. They need manpower. And they want the empire and its god to fall."

  "Oh, is that all? My job would just be to bring down an empire and a god?" Mikaela scoffed.

  "Not alone. We all do what little we can. My mission is to recruit helpers in this cause, you among them. So what do you say? Will you visit this otherworldly kingdom with me?"

  Mikaela looked tired of Benoit's sales pitch and put her fingers to her temples and massaged them lightly.