Chapter 43: The Map

  Vespera stood in front of my cell within polite distance. A few steps behind her was the crowd of my believers. They hummed and chanted quietly, heads bowed, occasionally glancing up to check I was still there. My second shadow closed the informal formation.

  *Probably Brutus, judging by his stance.*

  "Good morning," I said, and my stalkers perked up momentarily, exchanging quiet greetings before quickly returning to their silent prayers.

  "Good morning, Saint Leonard, how are you?" Vespera beamed. Her hands were clasped in front of her, but she held my gaze with something approaching confidence.

  "Been better, but managing." I chuckled. "Thanks for being here for me," I said as I turned toward the staircase. I waved my hand with my back to her. "See you later."

  Her cheerful "bye" reached me before I made a step. I glanced back over my shoulder, but she was already behind the murmuring crowd, hurrying away.

  ~ ? ? ~

  Soon after I found myself in Legatus Argus's office. It was spacious, with the large table that Argus insisted on calling a desk. Dark red short-pile carpet covered almost the whole floor. Weapon racks on the walls were pristine - their contents polished and shining. Wind battered the window, failing to drive away the persistent clouds.

  We sat at the table — me, Argus, and Pylades. Many empty chairs around the table gave it more the feel of an after-party than a military briefing. There were three glasses and a water jug. Weak light filtered through the window behind Legatus, glinting off the glasses as he poured water. Pylades on my right, on the shorter edge of the table, watched in silence.

  Besides the training, I hadn't had much chance to talk with Pylades. His mood seemed grim. There was no trace of the mischievous knight who'd called me a starving street cat after his sidekick marked me as one.

  But Diomedes was dead. Died protecting his commander. And that commander sat with me now.

  "Otherworlder, I-" the Legatus started when all glasses were full.

  "I go by Saint now, Legatus."

  "Yes, yes, you do." He smirked, one hand waving dismissively. "Enjoying the privilege?"

  "Debatable," I answered dryly, holding his gaze.

  "Well—" he slammed his palms on the table like he was about to strike a deal. The glasses rattled quietly. "Just the three of us here, so—"

  "So don't call me Otherworlder." I interrupted sharply. "I have a name. And I have neither the patience nor the courtesy for disrespect."

  Pylades studied the table as if his life depended on it, hiding his amusement. His finger ran along the table's edge as if inspecting it.

  Argus? His finger tapped on the wood. Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

  "You're either stupid or crazy—or both—challenging me like that in my own office," he pondered aloud.

  Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

  Antonio cut an impressive figure: wide jaw, broad shoulders, a cape flowing from his decorated breastplate.

  "But I have a soft spot for the bold." He grinned, extending his arm across the table. "So I'll let it go."

  Still seated, I leaned over the table to meet his iron grip. "This one time," he added seriously, but quickly broke into a smile. "Argus Antonio Williams. Pleasure to finally meet you properly."

  *Antonio?* I fought down a laugh. It emerged as a smile—hopefully polite.

  *Hold me or I might start calling him Antonio,* I thought, dying internally from the sound of his name.

  "Leonard Dmovsky." I shook his hand and let go. "Don't have a fancy second name."

  He chuckled. "You're not a royal, so that's a given." He shifted his focus to Pylades, who sighed and joined the introduction like it was a chore.

  With his arms crossed, he gave a brief nod, saying: "Pylades Honorius. Pleasure, Leonard Dmovsky."

  I pressed against the comfy padding of the chair's back, placing my hands on the edge of the table as if readying to stand up.

  "The Honorius?" I asked carefully. My shoulders tensed.

  "The same." Pylades's jaw tightened. "Romulus is my brother.”

  *Right. Romulus Honorius. The hostile palace peacock.*

  "Don't worry." The mountain shifted—his chair gave a painful creak. "I'm more the black sheep of the family." Another sigh. "We're not very close. I stay away from politics."

  He seemed genuine. His tired, calm gaze met mine.

  "I met him," I said, nodding. "He didn't like that I met the Princess." My eyes darted to Argus, then back to Pylades. "Called me a back-alley cat who doesn't know what's his and what isn't, or something like that."

  Pylades's chest rose sharply. He exhaled hard through his nose. "He grew up with Ariadne. He probably has feelings for her." He covered his mouth with his hand, speaking as if describing a lost cause. "Huh, what am I even saying? He surely has. Poor guy."

  My shoulders relaxed, one eyebrow shooting up. Pylades understood the unspoken question.

  "Think about it. If he loves her — the future queen..."

  He began counting on his thick fingers.

  Pinky finger, "Romulus."

  Ring finger, "Tiberius."

  Middle finger, "Apollo."

  Then his index finger pointed at me—"And now the Saint."

  "Well, you can count me out," I said.

  "Don't like my niece?" Argus chimed in with feigned offense. "You could live like a king."

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he slammed his hand on the table. Not too hard, but enough to make his next words sound dramatic. The vibration traveled to my end. "Ha! You would be the king!"

  "Not interested." I crossed my arms.

  "In my niece? Or the Kingdom?" Antonio raised his finger at me. "Think carefully about your answer, because I may not like it."

  *Is he serious?*

  *No, he's teasing me, there's no anger in his voice, and the muscles around his eyes are relaxed.*

  I answered slowly, deliberately picking my words. "Not sure about the Kingdom, but Ariadne is a wonderful woman." I raised my hands in surrender. When he opened his mouth to speak, I added — dead serious, arms crossed again — "But I have a wife. And a daughter. I intend to go back to them."

  The mood shifted. Wind wailed behind the window, restless and cold. Antonio's face shifted — the teasing gone, replaced by sympathy. The kind you get from experience, not books.

  "You have a wife and daughter?" Antonio exclaimed, dumbfounded. "Oh, in your... world." He connected the dots slowly. "That... that complicates things."

  We sat in silence for a long moment, locked in a wordless stare. Just when I was about to change the topic, Antonio pressed on.

  "What if..." He proceeded carefully choosing each word. "...you can't go back?"

  *If Pandora doesn't send me back? Then I'll lose everything. And make sure Pandora does too.*

  "I'll find a way," I said like it was obvious.

  Antonio pondered my reply. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. I didn't waver under his studying gaze.

  "Well..." Antonio started, but Pylades interrupted him. "So much seriousness, but I don't see any wine to match it!" He cleared his throat into his fist. A decorative, metal bracelet jingled softly as he moved his wrist. "Legatus, shall we get to the point of the meeting?"

  "Before that," now I was the one interrupting, "I'd like to clarify something, Argus."

  "Yes?" He leaned back in his chair, like he wanted to get a better look at me.

  I straightened up in my chair and comfortably pressed down into the soft seat.

  "Why didn't you tell me the Royal Family are descendants of a previous Otherworlder?"

  He froze. Not the kind of freeze when you're afraid your lie was discovered. Rather, when you've heard something so unexpected it takes time to process. Legatus shuffled his feet under the table.

  "Why... would I?"

  "Huh?"

  "The Highest Priestess could have told you many times over," Althea said. "But didn't. And High Priestess Evadne? Same."

  Heat rushed up my neck.

  "Everybody knows that. Surely the Highest Priestess briefed you—"

  I slammed the table so hard it must have driven the catalyst deeper into my bones. Glasses filled with water rattled from the force.

  *Fuck. Fuck!*

  "She knew." The words came out strangled. "Pythia knew everybody knew. She just... didn't tell me."

  Antonio and Pylades exchanged glances, clearly unsure how to react. My knuckles went white against the table edge.

  "Leonard," Antonio said carefully. "The Highest Priestess has her reasons—"

  "Her reasons?" I laughed, sharp and bitter. "She promised to answer my questions. But I guess I should've asked better questions, right?"

  Tap-tap. Tap— my eyes darted to his finger. It stopped just above the beige, glassy surface of the table.

  "I disagree with her on many aspects, Leonard." He straightened in his chair — it complained with a pathetic squeal. "But I'm completely sure that we share the same goal."

  He finished with finality. "Victory."

  "Argus," I said through gritted teeth, "I'll promise you this." I exhaled hard. The air smelled of polishing oil. "My full support—according to my judgment."

  He nodded with approval, but I wasn't finished.

  "Complete and full transparency in return."

  He nodded again.

  "Then I accept your terms and offer mine in return." He bumped his fist against his chest. "Support and honesty, so help me Pandora."

  *I really, really dislike the last part of that vow. But Pylades is a witness to that promise, as are the banners on the walls of the three Holy Knight Orders behind Legatus. That has to count for something.*

  Satisfied, I unclenched my jaw and glanced between the two. Pylades stood up, “So do I, Pylades Honorius, Centurion of the First Holy Knight Order, promise to help you within my capabilities, Leonard Dmovsky.” His fist bumped heavily against his chest, the bracelet jingled again.

  “Thank you.” I nodded with satisfaction, Pylades mirrored the gesture and sat back.

  "Now we can talk. What are we dealing with?”

  With a wave of Antonio's hand, the glossy, beige surface of the table came to life.

  The tabletop broke into a grid of micro-cubes, each the size of a corn grain. A low whir vibrated through the structure, followed by rapid, patterned metallic ticks — chirping in synchronized rhythm. Hairline gaps opened as some cubes rose with a faint snap of air.

  A cascading wave swept across the surface. The elevated cubes held position until a second, sharper pulse followed — splitting them into finer units with clean fracture lines and lowering excess fragments back into the grid. The remaining structures carved contours with unnatural precision.

  The entire process took less than a second. Within that time, pass after pass, the image smoothed, sharpened, and gained color until the grid resolved into a full three-dimensional map showing the strategic situation of the Kingdom of Humanity.

  ╔═══════════════════════════════════════════╗

  ║. . . . . . . . .ABBREVIATIONS . . . . . . ║

  ║. (DB). = Temple. . . . . . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. (RP). = Royal Palace. . . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. (MED) =.Medea's Hive. . . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. (RD). = Prometheus Hub. . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. (S) . = Seed-Store. . . . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. (PGZ) = Mana Vein Zeus. . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. (PGJ) = Mana Vein Jupiter . . . . . . . .║

  ║. (M) . = Deep Mines. . . . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .║

  ║═══════════════════════════════════════════║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . ._--------------(RP). . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . /. . . . . . . ./. .\ . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . (DB)---x---. . ._/. . .|. . . . . .║

  ║. . . ./. . . . . . \. /. . . .|. . . . . .║

  ║. (PGZ)---------x---.(S).---.(M). . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . .\. . ./. . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . . |. ./ . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . . |. /. . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . (MED) . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . ./. | . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . /. .x . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . x. .| . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . .\.(RD) . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . \.| . . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . (PGJ) . . . . . . . .║

  ║. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .║

  ╚═══════════════════════════════════════════╝

  Legatus waited for my reaction like he'd just performed the best party trick of his life. My hand went to my jaw, fingers catching on stubble. *Need to shave.* Then: *How is the barber?*

  *Barber can wait. Focus on the map.*

  The more I looked, the less sense it made. Or rather—the more *wrong* it looked.

  *The abbreviations don't make much sense. DB for the Temple? RD for Prometheus Hub?*

  Antonio misinterpreted my puzzlement and launched into an explanation of the table itself.

  "Now, this, Leonard," he said, his hand skimming over the smooth, deep?brown edge of the table, "is an ancient artifact." He drew in a breath, seemingly savoring the burnt scent. "One of the last operational. Beautifully practical magic, as all magic should be."

  He managed to distract me again.

  "Ancient?" I examined the table, really looking at it for the first time. "I thought it was polished wood, but on the second look... I'm not sure."

  "No idea what it is," he said with a shrug, arms spread wide, "but it's definitely not wood." He brushed the edge with the tips of his fingers, almost affectionately. "It's thousands of years old, and it hasn't changed a bit in the fifty years I've used it."

  "Argus, I know you haven't had the chance to show off your desk for a long time..."

  Pylades stood up, and the chair groaned like it was about to break.

  "But if I'd known you signed me up for an antiques lesson..."—he glanced out the window—"I wouldn't have come."

  "Right," I agreed, "I enjoy the discussion, but I don't have much time before training, An—Argus."

  Antonio's eyebrow lifted, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

  The tips of my ears were definitely red.

  "L-let's see..."

  I bent over the map, very intently.

  "I don't understand the abbreviations, to be honest."

  I didn't look up, but in my peripheral vision I saw Pylades mimic my sudden 'intensity,' while Legatus took his time before speaking, studying me.

  "Me neither."

  A pause.

  He finally lowered his gaze to the table.

  "Always made me curious why these don't match." Legatus continued, "I suppose you know about the War of Gods, so I'll skip the history lesson." He eyed Pylades, who bravely ignored the jab. "So let's focus on today."

  "The map shows our Kingdom of Humanity. These points"—his finger jumped between the circles marked (RP) and (DB)—"they're Magichariot Portals. Here you can see the Temple connected to the Royal Palace."

  "Portals? I thought they were 'ports,' not portals. Magichariot Ports."

  "'Ports' is just shorthand. Didn't you look at the gates? The fluid inside? How the Magichariot vanishes when it enters? A few minutes later you're at your destination. It takes weeks on foot. If that's not a portal, then I don't know what is."

  "What about the acceleration and deceleration when you travel?" I leaned in, elbow planted on the table. "Well, I get it—magic—but I thought it was just some magical chariot or—"

  “Ekhm.”

  Pylades grunted into his fist; his leather shirt creaked, the stiff hide resisting the lift of his chest. He locked eyes with each of us in turn.

  "Right..." Legatus straightened and crossed his arms over his chestplate. His steel armbands scraped against the armor on his torso. "Before the Rebellion, all these locations were under our control, and our enemy was the hostility of the world itself, as we tried to reclaim it."

  He paused, letting me process the implications.

  *No farms. No shelter. I can imagine the hostility.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The War for Survival had a double meaning all this time.*

  "And now, Argus?"

  Argus smacked his tongue with irritation, "Now? Now we're bleeding out."