I rose from the cross-legged position I'd been meditating in for the last hour, my mind returning to my body like water being poured into a bottle. After bowing to the little statuette that was on the table in front of me I stretched, finally turning away and stepping from the small bungalow I lived in. I emerged into the shadow of a ruined castle, home for more of my life than not, and gazed with sadness at the broken stones while remembering Castle Lordsfall in its glory days.
Such days were over a millennium before this point though, in the later years of the 10th Century after the birth of the True Nazarene. I'd been the last in a long dynasty to serve the kings of Albyon, ruling over a patch of farmland in their names from the castle. In times of conflict I could command roughly two hundred men and in times of peace we supplied enough food for all of the neighbouring territories.
Everything changed after the Battle of Calgar, a group of Nazarene monks rescuing me from near-death amid the carnage. I had been taken back to their monastery and put into the care of their healer. He was a kind-looking man called Lucius, from his appearance a native of the Truskan peninsula, but his methods were like nothing I'd ever heard of before. A single touch was enough to get a wound to start closing and a whispered spell turned a jug of water into an ambrosia, the heavenly liquid soothing away any pain as I sipped it down.
I recall begging to know how Lucius could do such miracles but he had merely smiled.
"If the goddess desires it then you won't need my instruction." I'd shaken my head, not comprehending Lucius' words, and he helped me to my feet, pressing a warm hand to my chest when I swayed. "I'll take you to the prior. He wanted to see you when you were up."
Lucius led me to an unassuming man in the monastery library, introducing him as Father Bartholomew. The prior was reading a thick tome, the writing on the pages tiny and cramped, but he looked up at our approach.
"Lucius. I see you brought our guest to me." Bartholomew turned to me, closing the book. "I'm pleased to see you on your feet Sir Alfred."
"Thank you Father. I wish I knew how I'm up so quickly though."
Bartholomew and Lucius glanced at each other for a second and I could tell they were considering something.
After a moment Bartholomew had risen and made his way to a full bookcase, pulling a slim book from one of the shelves.
"Read this while you recover. It may help."
I accepted the book, glancing at its engraved cover. A trio of female faces were arranged in a pyramid, the title Faiths of the Inner Ocean arcing over them.
"What is this?" It somehow hadn't struck me as odd that Lucius had earlier mentioned a goddess but I was now suspicious, glaring at the two monks as I waved the book at them. "Why do men of God have the works of false beliefs?"
"Because they are not as false as is taught. Even the great mother-church acknowledges that some things can still be practised."
"Blasphemers!" I went to draw my sword, realising only now I carried no weaponry. "You should die for your heresies!"
I had begun to back from the library, hands clenched into empty fists, when Lucius let out a sigh. Turning to him I saw the deep sadness on the Truskan's face.
"You were so willing to learn not that long ago."
"That was before you tried to damn my soul!"
Lucius glanced at Bartholomew, noting the apologetic look on the prior's face when their gazes met.
"Your cult really manages to indoctrinate doesn't it?"
"I fear the zealotry of the early years has made us a bit intolerant." Bartholomew stepped around the desk he'd been seated at, hands wide in a gesture of peace. "Sir Alfred. Please be calm and we'll try and explain."
I groped for the library door, keeping both of them in my sight, and then sagged as I felt myself go faint, a gentle whistle beginning to sound through the chamber. I fought against my darkening vision, using the door to stay relatively upright, and was gratified to see surprise on both monks' faces.
I suppose they had expected me to collapse when affected by their magic, for that's all the whistling could be. I did eventually succumb but only just before being able to lay hands on Bartholomew. I woke several hours later, back in my bed in the infirmary, and warily glanced around before going to stand.
"Are you prepared to listen this time?"
I slumped back down onto the bed and gestured weakly at Lucius.
"Talk then. You obviously want to."
The Truskan laughed, the mood in the infirmary noticeably lightening.
"You were begging me Sir Alfred. You want to listen more than I want to talk." I tried to scowl but ended up just huffing in annoyance as Lucius continued talking. "Nazarenes like yourself are taught of one deity to the exclusion of everything else. Here though we acknowledge Creation Itself as the supreme force, call It God if you really want, and we believe that all faiths are representing valid aspects of It."
"You mean like some of the Easterners teach in their religions?"
A look of surprise appeared on Lucius' face and he tutted slightly.
"And you try to shame us for our knowledge Sir Alfred. Would we find their texts in the library of Castle Lordsfall?"
I had eventually, reluctantly, agreed to join Lucius in his meditations, the practice he claimed gave him enlightenment and thus his abilities. The Truskan settled cross-legged in front of a statuette on a table, closing his eyes and starting to whisper beneath his breath for a moment before falling silent. I knelt next to him, looking at the statuette until my vision defocused, and found myself mouthing a prayer. I had the sensation of something else joining us in Lucius' room, creating a feeling that was distinctly pure and noble, and when Lucius disturbed me by rising from his own meditation my senses felt sharper than ever before.
---
Shaking my head to dispel the ancient memories I departed from Castle Lordsfall. I was heading towards the village of Lordsbarrow, a settlement just down the hill that had serviced the castle since both were founded. I'd watched over the village throughout the centuries, doing what I could to protect it if needed, but it was a rare occasion that I actually visited Lordsbarrow.
It had initially prospered despite my 'death' at the Battle of Calgar, a neighbouring lord absorbing my lands into his own. Sir Jonathon and his descendants treated my lands well enough but their seat of power was distant and more pressing issues, for them at least, eventually diverted their attentions. The original village perished when a great plague swept through Albyon two hundred years after the start of my second life and it had been that tragedy that made me quit the monastery, returning to Landsbarrow as part of a resettlement effort a half-century later.
After impulsively ducking into the tavern, all that remained of the original Lordsbarrow, I glanced towards the television in the corner. For the past few weeks I'd dreamt of a tide of death, of slaughter, and so I had begun some investigations, wondering what meaning the dreams had. A variety of news stories were being discussed, meaningless drivel both local and from around the world, but then my attention was grabbed when a face I thought I recognized appeared on the screen.
"Who is that?"
"Keiran Lightfoot. He'll be formally announcing the first shipment from his fancy low-cost factory tomorrow."
I shook my head in disbelief at the barman's words. I'd first encountered 'Keiran' Lightfoot, I knew him as Matthias, when he was a witch-finder during Albyon's religious schisms in the 16th Century, the man being responsible for killing Lucius and making him ascend.
I thought Matthias dead until encountering him again only a few decades ago, this time whilst he was leading an entire organization of like-minded fanatics. They, along with a hundred other similar groups, were integrated into a highly xenophobic and aggressive regime that had plunged the globe into a war few countries were capable of fighting. I didn't know how he'd survived to be around after so long but I was confident that decapitation would put an end to him.
Dropping into an empty chair I gazed weakly at the television. Matthias Lightfoot could have been the reason for my dreams, he was certainly destructive enough, but I found myself unwilling to challenge him a third time. Twisting in my seat I glanced over at the barman, waiting until I had his attention.
"Maintaining the castle keeps me extremely occupied. Mr Lightfoot's factory is near here?"
I could see the wheels turning in his head and knew that it'd soon be all over the village that someone from the castle had visited.
"His factory is about twenty kilometers away, on the other side of the city. Makes cars I think."
"Thanks."
I returned to watching the television, scowling when Matthias' face popped up again and rose from my chair, a heaviness on my chest.
---
After spending the rest of the day preparing, both mentally and physically, I drove towards the indicated city in my old Dimitrion hatchback, an ancient place called Valencester. It was already old when I was born, established a thousand years earlier when the Imperium ruled Albyon, but now its age contrasted with the manufacturing industries it was surrounded by. Since the Industrial Revolution such industries had become exceedingly damaging to Valencester's character, threatening to overshadow its history. I could remember all the small family-run forges, able to close my eyes and almost visualise their locations, and sighed as I passed between modern factories and business parks.
The Lightfoot factory sat alone, isolated from the others set up on the eastern side of Valencester. There was an air of dread hanging over the facility, not unlike what can be found over battlefields or places of execution, and I stopped at a nearby park, pulling a pair of binoculars from my car's glove compartment. Since the beginning of my second life I've enjoyed better senses than virtually everyone else and when coupled with the binoculars I was able to see for at least a mile with total clarity.
People walking in pairs could be seen moving along the factory perimeter, the outlines of pistols distorting their jackets. I shook my head as I watched the patrols. They were no threat to me, if I wished they wouldn't even see me, but their mere presence was troubling. It suggested that Lightfoot had either found a group to work with or had created his own, neither option something I found comforting. Putting the binoculars back into the glove compartment, retrieving my own pistol at the same time, I then slipped from the Dimitrion, making my way round to the boot.
I kept a bow and a few quivers of arrows hidden beneath the floor of the car's boot. Having practiced with the weapon for centuries I am confident in saying I'm the best shot on the planet and I prefer the relative silence of the bow when compared to a firearm. Slinging the bow over my shoulder I locked up the Dimitrion and began making my way through the shrubland between the park and Lightfoot's factory.
Taking a deep breath as I pressed myself against a tree trunk I unslung my bow, nocking an arrow into place. I was close enough now to the factory that my movements could potentially be spotted, something I wished to be avoided. Drawing back the bowstring I quickly stepped out from cover, aiming at one of the men walking away from me. With a sigh I released the bowstring, instantly reaching for another arrow and loosing it. Both men crumpled, hearts split apart, and I dashed to stand over them, pulling the arrows from their corpses.
The feeling of dread I'd sensed earlier was stronger, the very air vibrating with destructive power, and I shivered as I rolled both men into the shadow of the factory, aware that my actions had just contributed to that power. It took me a bit longer to find an access point, hurrying through the door and into a small office. Thankfully it was unoccupied and I took a moment for myself, mind flashing back to the monastery. Lucius had told me in one of my final lessons of the powers of Destruction, how Destruction corrupted those following It, and that I had to remind myself, truly remind myself, why destruction was sometimes needed as a part of Creation.
Once mentally secure I glanced around the office, reading the handful of notes littering the single desk. I ignored the computer, warily eyeing its high-tech keyboard, and swapped my bow for the pistol as I edged towards the office's other door, emerging onto a catwalk overlooking the factory's main chamber. It was humid, the heat from what appeared to be a casting forge spreading across the vast interior, and I wiped away the sweat that had suddenly appeared on my forehead.
Below me showers of sparks rose over the heads of actual human workers, what should have been a virtual impossibility, and suited overseers stalked between the rows. I started calculating how to evacuate the workers whilst destroying Lightfoot's minions, gaze flicking between all of the equipment I could see. A plan came to mind involving the casting forge and I began making my way along the catwalk, keeping an eye out for any overseer paying attention to more than the workers.
---
Thankfully they were all busy abusing their power and soon I stood over the casting forge, watching teams move sheets of cooling metal onto wide surfaces. The bartender had been right, the factory was definitely making cars, and I studied the vats of molten iron, working out how to detach one so that its contents spilled out across the factory floor. I was about to put my plans into action when a loud siren blasted out. The overseers paused for a moment, I was able to see several of them talking with headsets, and then I caught sight of Matthias when he appeared on a balcony overlooking the factory.
The siren cut out when he bought a meaty fist down on a control panel in front of him and I shivered as he began talking, voice echoing throughout the factory.
"Overseers! Be aware that that was a security alarm. Keep an eye out for any suspicious activity among the workers. Do not be afraid to use as much force as you deem fit to stop a worker if such activity is noted."
His gaze swept the massive chamber like a searchlight and I instinctively drew back from it, willing myself into invisibility. That must have tipped off whatever master Matthias served though as his eyes snapped straight to my location, his fist again coming down on the control panel.
The nearest overseers all turned towards me, drawing batons from beneath their overcoats, and swiftly began pushing through the workers to get to the ladders up to the catwalk. My heart sank as I quickly went through my options and I leapt for the vats, forcing the bolts holding one in place from their positions. The vat fell and landed on its side, a wave of liquid metal pouring out and consuming both overseers and workers alike. A horrible smell rose from charred bodies, accompanied by screaming from those who hadn't succumbed to their grievous wounds, and I whispered a prayer for forgiveness as I clambered back onto the catwalk.
"Sir Alfred!" My name was shouted and I turned, again locking eyes with Matthias. "Why don't you join me in my office?"
The catwalk shuddered as more overseers cautiously approached and I returned my pistol to its holster, handing over my bow when an overseer held out his hand. Falling in between the overseer holding my bow and another who'd come up behind me we made our way to a flight of stairs leading up to Matthias' office.
Entering the factory had been like entering the Nazarene hell I'd been taught about as a child. Entering the office was like entering its lowest level as described in the Inferno. The air seemed to be frozen by malevolent energies and I quickly checked the room.
"It's just us Sir Alfred. Everything you're feeling is from me."
"Then you are truly lost. How did you survive our fight at Storviburg?"
Matthias opened a drawer and pulled something from it, pulling the skull on top of the desk.
"I didn't, and yet I suppose I did. My master sends me back whenever I enter his realm, putting my soul into a newborn body."
His words appalled me and I glanced at the skull for a moment to gather my thoughts.
"So you're back. And what special quality do the people in the factory possess?"
"None. They're just here to fuel my ambitions."
Another quick glance showed we were alone in the office and I swiftly drew my pistol, putting a bullet into the centre of Matthias' forehead.
A group of overseers barrelled into the office, stupidly gaping at the corpse at the desk and I used the distraction to gun them down. I had no hope of surviving, sooner or later I'd be taken down, but unlike Matthias there was no waiting for my resurrection. Striding from the office I began picking off the overseers I could see, watching a few more get swamped by workers. Volleys of bullets scythed through those on the factory floor, four overseers indiscriminately slaughtering friend and foe alike, and I ducked as a handful of bullets thudded into the office wall behind me.
Leaning from cover I was able to take aim at the overseers wielding assault weapons, shooting one and throwing him to the ground. A second overseer switched targets, chewing up the metal around me, and I inwardly groaned as the catwalk broke, the panel I was on plunging downward. I landed atop a small cluster of bodies, clutching at where my left arm had struck the metal grating and shattered.
An overseer moved into my line of sight, levelling his rifle at me and opening fire. I knew it was futile though even as the bullets ravaged organs and shattered bones, the abilities I'd gained by meditating on God meaning that barely an hour would pass before I was in a new body. I could even inhabit a corpse and reshape it later, although it isn't something I'd particularly want to do. Matthias though, he'd need years to become a threat again and I know I can stop him virtually every time he rears his head.
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