It was an interesting trip to Indri Manor. Lord Indri hadn’t just come alone in his own carriage. He had come with two wagons, ones that carried grain. There was no point in a secret exit if I rode openly with him, so I had to stay in one of the wagons by myself.

  So, here I was, in a half-empty wagon, with my back against one of the walls. The wagon was thankfully a smooth ride, save for the occasional bumps in the road. They’d also left me a light. How considerate. All around me were sacks of grain, forming a row around me, leaving a small hollow for myself. Presumably, this was to avoid an inspection, though the odds of a Duke having his wagons inspected when he was right there were slim to none.

  I’d of course known this before, but he really wanted me to come with him. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d refused. Oh well, it was too late to worry about that now.

  I had around seven days to find out the truth of what was happening inside that damned manor. Seven days, one hundred and eighty-two hours. That was the count with these twenty-six-hour days. It was the first time I actually thanked time for running a little longer in this world. I suspected I would need all of it that I had.

  I reached for my necklace. Its weight felt rather comforting around my neck. It was a silly thought, but it was hard not to use it immediately just to be sure. It wasn't that I doubted Anias. I was simply anxious.

  Being in this wagon was the first time in a while I had been alone for any decent length of time. Even in my room, there had always been the threat of someone walking in. Normally, it’d be Anias, or perhaps Sere. Damian and the other maids at least knocked. It felt familiar, both comfortable and not at the same time. Like I had spent a great amount of time doing just this, only to have branched out, this felt oddly similar to coming back home.

  “Okay, let’s try this then,” I murmured, and shot my hand to the side.

  The rusted sword formed in my hand almost immediately. I stared at the Godblade, almost trying to peer at the will inside it.

  “You want to Defy, don’t you?” I asked. “It seems you want to Defy the same things that I do. Are you feeding off of me, or am I feeding off of you?” It would be all too convenient to assume that the sword and I just happened to have the same moral compass. It was more likely that the Godblade was interpreting what I felt and thought.

  Naturally, a rusted sword, even one made by a God, couldn’t answer me. Nonetheless, I still felt a presence at the corners of my mind.

  “I will do what you want,” I whispered. “But I want to do it my way. There is a time for subtlety, and there is a time for violence. Both are important.”

  I knew I was currently lecturing a sword. Perhaps it was a way for me to assuage my own boredom. I almost shoved the sword back whence it came when I felt it: a feeling. If I had to put a word to that feeling, it would simply be: disagreement. What an odd thing it was, to feel something and yet know it wasn’t from your own heart.

  “Don’t be a fool,” I grumbled. “At the warehouse, they were powerless thugs. You didn’t even need to hurt me to kill them. At the auction house, I almost died. Eventually, there will be someone you can’t defy, no matter how much you break me.”

  I waited. The sword’s gemstone shone for a moment before the glow dulled. Indifference poured into me. It came from the sword again. The feeling was no less jarring the second time.

  “Oh?” I tilted my head. “You’ll just be stubborn and ultimately accept defeat when the time comes, rather than being reasonable? Perhaps I have my definitions wrong, but here I thought stupidity and defiance were very different things.”

  I didn’t think the sword actually understood the words I was using. It was more likely to be picking up on the essence of my words. Could something as simple as that convey nuance? I had to hope it could.

  Anger came this time. Not a roaring rage, more like a clenched fist. I couldn’t help but smirk.

  “I need you,” I murmured. “But you need me just as much.”

  There was nothing at that. It was hard not to get the impression that the sword was very willfully ignoring me. Perhaps other Heroes were driven insane by their Godblades because they were such a massive pain in the ass to deal with?

  “I don’t know what Illiana was like,” I murmured. “I haven’t even had time to read the stories, but I am sure she was a better master than I. Regardless, you’re stuck with me now. If you could leave, you would. Too bad.”

  I closed my eyes, focused. I tried to recall the horror I’d felt in that warehouse, the rage I’d felt in that alley. And…there was another thing, so shrouded and faint I couldn’t grasp it. Another moment where I’d desperately wanted to defy, but hadn’t been able to. Not in that life, anyway. I opened my eyes and held the shining white sword. It really was beautiful. I’d been a fool to ever think anything else.

  “If you feed off of Intent, then I have plenty to spare.”

  Anger was bubbling inside me, though not nearly as strong as it had been before. This was controllable. I absently held the blade up. I reached for my Gift. This was the whole point of this conversation.

  A warning flashed through my mind, so sudden and sharp it almost made me drop the blade entirely. It would have cut right through the wagon, and there was no way I’d have been able to explain that.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “You’re being stubborn,” I muttered. “Why won’t you let me use you properly?” I knew I was repeating myself. It was hard not to when I was annoyed.

  Two. Kings.

  Those words filled my mind. The Godblade had screamed those before. Now, it was only whispering. It didn't feel like an answer. It felt more like...the memory of one. “I don’t know what the hell that means,” I said. “Neither does anybody else. If it’s a message of some kind, then at least deliver it properly.”

  The blade didn’t respond to that. It was frustrating. I had a Gift that allowed me to see and react to things no human could, and a Godblade that could cut through just about anything. All I needed was to combine the two, but this stupid blade wasn’t cooperating.

  The Godblade rusted in my hand. I stared at it, clicked my tongue. “Fine, I don’t want to talk to you anymore either,” I said as I dismissed the blade.

  Nothing too significant happened after that. I would occasionally reach out with my Gift to hear the dull sounds coming from the outside world. The transition from being in the Veyne District and moving to the Indri District was very obvious.

  I’d eavesdropped on at least two street brawls in the Veyne District, both of which were over bread. I’d heard a lot of angry shouting, most of which was directed at me, though at least a few were directed at Julian Greenward. Some of the people used rather language for me. I didn't see how someone could describe a fourteen-year-old girl as an upstart whore, but some people found a way. I tried not to be too annoyed. Their opinions were likely formed and swayed by the newspapers Greenward had bought and paid for.

  The Indri District, in comparison, was simply tense. Even with my Gift, it was hard to make out much, and when I did, it was just people wishing this all ‘blew over’ or that the Nobles ‘stopped playing with the lives of common folk’. When the city noises truly faded, I knew I was in the Indri Manor proper.

  It wasn’t long after that when the wagon came to a complete stop. I waited, heard a compartment open to the side. More movement, and then a manservant moved two of the sacks blocking my vision. Light flooded inside. The Magical Implement had cast off a dull blue glue. Proper sunlight was much appreciated.

  “My Lady, one moment please.”

  I waited patiently until there was enough room for me to actually crawl out. I stepped out onto a paved pathway and brushed my cloak. Duke Indri stood right in front of me, smiling down.

  “My Lord, I did forget to ask,” I said, looking up at him. “We might have come here in secret, but surely word will get out once the people in your Manor see me.”

  He smiled genially. “Ah, but I had everyone I couldn’t trust fully be given a week’s leave. You will find that the people who remain are ones you can put your absolute faith in.”

  Ones that you could put absolute faith in, perhaps. It was nice of him to let me know that just about everyone here would be watching me.

  “I’ll be in your care then.” I did my best impression of a curtsy. "It seems you've had my safety all planned out even before I'd accepted. I'm grateful."

  “Come now, no need for that, Esra. I’ll have you shown to your room. I imagine you will need some time to rest after the busy days you’ve had.” He turned to his side, gesturing at a short, petite maid who was standing there dutifully. “Aline, if you would. That room should suffice.”

  “It shall be done.” The woman, Aline, bowed and started to walk away. I assumed I was to follow her, and so I did. Whatever Duke Indri wanted, it seemed that it would wait for at least a little while.

  Indri Manor was as beautiful as I remembered. There were beds of flowers essentially everywhere I looked. Just maintaining these grounds must have cost a fortune. It was hard not to admire them.

  “They were Lady Scarlet’s favorite,” Aline informed me after she saw me looking. “It was one of her hobbies. The Duke maintains the gardens in her honor.”

  “I have heard that she was quite spirited.” In other words, not the type for flowers, or at least that’s what I had assumed.

  Aline smiled fondly. “She was that, and many things besides. Come, I’m sure you’ll like the rooms Duke Indri has prepared for you.”

  She led the way inside the manor. Even at a glance, it was easy to tell that the place was far less crowded than it had been on my last visit. That should, at least, make Anias’s job much easier if it came down to it. Occasionally, I would spot one of the sculptures that were so common here. They were black, similar to but not quite the same as shade as Nightsoil. There was no connection at all, yet it was hard not to make one all the same.

  Finally, Aline stopped in front of one room in particular and moved to open the door.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “If My Lady wishes for anything, there is a bell. Just infuse some mana, and I will be along shortly.”

  Then it was the same system as back in the Veyne Manor. Convenient.

  “I shall.” I looked at the room itself. It was…lavish. Every wall was covered in some kind of artistry, even the fine blue rugs had some kind of abstract art. There was a large chandelier in the center of the room. Who would need such a thing in their bedroom was a question I didn’t have an answer to. Then, there was the bed, at least twice as large as the one I was used to and taller besides.

  “I do have one question,” I said after my brief inspection was done. “Why did Duke Indri pick this room out for me? Is there a reason?”

  “Oh. It’s simply the room Lord Adrian always stayed in.”

  Ah. That would make quite a bit of sense. The maid bowed. I stepped inside and closed the door. I let some of the tension drain from my body.

  “Can’t rest right away….” I mumbled.

  Click. Click.

  As I did, I channeled mana into my eyes, combining my Gift with Mana Sight. I inspected the room. There were traces of mana from the various Magical Implements here, but nothing looked immediately out of place. That was good. It seemed he was underestimating me. Or at the very least, whatever surveillance he was surely doing wasn't present within this room.

  I stopped channeling mana, stepped forward, and stretched my arms. There was a large portrait hung up along one of the walls. I stared at it. The portrait depicted four people, their smiling visages staring down at me.

  It was Duke Indri, looking much younger and healthier than I had ever seen him. He had his arm around a red-haired beauty who could only be Scarlet. It should have been hard for a picture to emanate power; she did so anyway. It wasn’t them I stared at. The other two people were my father and…a woman.

  Something inside of me shook. A single, strange thought occurred to me, one I had never had the time to think before.

  I’ve never n my mother. In Veyne Manor, depictions of her were absent. My father hardly had any of himself, and so I had simply dismissed it. Considering that the woman was dead, I didn’t think it was important to know what Esra’s mother looked like. This must have been her.

  Lady Selene had long, flowing black hair. A round face, bright brown eyes, and a comforting smile. Her skin was a light brown, and she looked to be a good foot shorter than my father.

  I could see a passing resemblance to my father now, it was mainly in the shapes of our noses and the definitions of our cheekbones. A small resemblance, but it was there. Proof that we really were related, despite the strangeness of my own appearance.

  There was no resemblance between this woman and me at all.

  A PATH OF METAL TO AN AMBER DAWN

  ?

  Fantasy LitRPG Adventure Time Travel Progression Crafting Sci-Fi Magitech Reincarnation Genetically Engineered Gamelit

  Where flowers wilt, grow metal. Where animals die, build life.

  Evelyn Anima has survived for years in the ruins of District Zero, a sealed-off land at the heart of a continent-sized magitek city shattered by a magical disaster that left millions dead—or twisted into monsters.

  After countless failed attempts to become a Classer and earn the right to leave the exclusion zone, time is finally running out.

  The experimental Core implanted in her as a child threatens to kill Evelyn and the last remnants of her mother's green dream with her.

  To fix this broken future and herself, the answer may lie in a distant time. When druids still walked the world, and magic wasn’t trapped in circuits and metal.

  But to know history is to live it, and Evelyn may be bringing more of the future with her than she intended.

  * A Journey of Hope & Discovery*