Gerald stood in front of the book case with an old, thick book in his hands. He slowly tucked it into the ranks of its kind. He'd been reading it for a few days. It was a book that described the origins of his family. His first ancestor had come from the Heartlands, where the Babylon Empire had eventually been established after the Thousand War. He'd come from a branch of one of the major families in the Heartlands, but he'd been too far away from power there. The strong competition and the first ancestor not being part of the main family had prevented him from gaining any power or support in the Heartlands.

Hence he had travelled to the subcontinent in the hopes of establishing himself. The wrestle for power in the subcontinent had just started by then, and he'd found many opportunities upon his arrival.

A knock on the study's door brought Gerald out of his thoughts. He raised a brow and said, "come in."

The door was pushed open and Lucas entered.

"I didn't expect you to arrive this early, Lucas," Gerald said, returning to his seat.

"Well, there was nothing to delay me, your lordship."

Gerald nodded as he sat down. "I presume Arthur has told you what this is about?"

Lucas nodded, obviously hiding his distress. He cleared his throat. "I can't swear allegiance to you, Lord Tellus."

Gerald almost choked on his laugh. "Who said that you'd have to swear allegiance to anyone? We simply need a good disguise for you. With your loyalty to the late Duke Fortis, I know that it's impossible to sway you to my side."

Lucas's face relaxed a little, and he nodded.

Gerald hummed. "In a way, you've sacrificed your entire life for his son, and you've even persuaded your men to do the same. I would be a fool to expect an oath of allegiance from you."

"I'm grateful for your understanding, your lordship," Lucas said.

"He must have been a good Lord," Gerald said. He wished he could inspire similar loyalty in his men.

"He cared for his men," Lucas said, his eyes lost in nostalgia. "And his men cared for him. Between him and us, there was more than just an oath, your lordship."

Gerald nodded. "A good Lord indeed." He pointed at a chair. "Sit, Lucas."

The old knight nodded and took a seat.

Gerald leant forward. "If you're going to serve me as we've agreed, then we'll need to find a proper disguise for you. I don't want Duke Fortis sniffing around my territory in the near future. He can't bring his men here, but he could still ask some favors from the Lords nearby."

Lucas nodded. "He already did it once. Count Westwell sought our death when the Duke discovered us in his territory. If my men and I hadn't been quick enough, he would have slaughtered us."

"Then you understand my concerns," Gerald said. Lucas's men were currently mixed with one of his army's regiments. They were camped near Ard. No one had asked worrying questions yet, but it was only a matter of time for his own soldiers to ask those questions. "First, we will have to let others know who you are. A suitable disguise for yourself would be as Robard's brother."

Lucas rubbed his stubble. "Robard, your head knight?"

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "Robard wasn't from the basin to begin with. His father was a knight errant from the southern parts of the continent. He'd brought him here when he was a child, and Robard had eventually grown to serve my father. But Robard has four other brothers who never came here."

"You want me as one of those brothers."

"Yes. You'll be Lucas, a knight errant like your father before you," Gerald explained. "You've grown tired of wandering the land and have come to settle down near your brother. Your brother has asked me to accept your allegiance, so that you'd become a house knight, and I've accepted."

Lucas seemed lost in thought for a few moments, then he nodded and spoke. "That will do, I suppose."

"You don't have to swear allegiance to me. But in front of everyone else, you already have," Gerald said. "Only my closest aides and Gasper know who you are. From today, it will be 'my lord' instead of 'your lordship'."

Lucas pressed his lips and nodded reluctantly. Gerald knew that the old knight had likely never called anyone 'my lord' after his late Duke had passed.

"As for your men," Gerald continued. "You will have to move them soon. I have a plan in mind."

"Very well . . ." Lucas said, the word stuck in his throat, "my lord."

Gerald smiled and nodded then gestured for the knight to leave. When Lucas reached the door, Gerald said, "I have kept my word, have I not?"

With his hand on the door, Lucas looked back towards him. "You have." Then he retracted his hand. "I saw your men training near our camp a few days ago."

"I've lost 1000 men in the recent battles," Gerald scowled. "I need to raise their replacements."

Lucas nodded. "When I served the Duke, I fought many enemies, different enemies. There was always someone who wanted more."

"They're called the Warring Duchies for a reason," Gerald chortled.

"Indeed," Lucas said, his eyes regaining their nostalgic sheen. "Duke Elshor."

"Huh?" Gerald raised a brow.

"He's the one who I don't want to fight again," Lucas said, his brows slightly creased. "His men were akin to beasts in their strength. He wasn't clever. He would fight you with the straightest of tactics. But his soldiers were the toughest I've ever fought."

"Why is that?" Gerald asked, intrigued. There was no Lord that didn't wish for an army of monsters at his command.

"He trained his men with the most peculiar of methods," Lucas said, his eyes gazing afar, beyond the walls of the study. "Methods that no respectable army on the Asura Continent would use, in fear of being ridiculed. They were most useful for heavy infantry and longbow archers." His far gaze returned to normal then he eyed Gerald meaningfully.

"Longbows?" Gerald perked up. "There is a better way to train my men for longbows?"

"Yes," Lucas nodded. "As long as a man knew how to use a bow, Duke Elshor would only need 3 months to train them for the use of longbows, and sometimes even less time."

"How?"

"Stones and rocks."

Gerald kept his ears perked patiently.

"For the heavy infantry, he would have them wear lean sacks filled with rocks and stones twice the weight of their heavy armor, day long. When they got used to such weight, their armor was as light as a feather for them."

"And the archers?"

"He would have them carry and lift heavy stones with their pull-arm. Their strength would double within two months, making them capable of pulling a longbow to its fullest extent easily."

"Can you pass these methods to Robard?" Gerald stood up.

Lucas smiled. "Yes. After we defeated Duke Elshor, we learned his methods and used them. My men were trained the same way. I will gladly help with your archers' training . . . my lord."

Gerald smiled wide. "Thank you, Lucas."

"You've kept your word," Lucas said. "It would do me a dishonor not to help you as much as I can. And there is even more to come when the time is ripe, my lord."

Gerald nodded. He understood Lucas's intention. As long as he kept his word and didn't sell them to the Duke, there was more that Lucas could help with. Perhaps the old knight was trying to prove his worth. After all, Gerald had not sold them to the Duke because he wanted to make good use of them. Lucas missed something though. Gerald wouldn't betray their agreement, not when he had agreed to it willingly, let alone proposed it himself.

Lucas opened the door and stepped out, only to stop with one foot inside. He turned and looked Gerald in the eye. "When is the funeral of your fallen men?"

Gerald looked at the knight as if he was gazing a fool. How would he know the answer to that? "I don't know. Their families will arrange for their funerals."

Lucas's eyes slowly left Gerald's, and he gazed at floor, nodding sullenly. Then he left.

?-----------------------------------------------------?

Gasper woke up in the middle of the night with unbearable pain plaguing his body. He gritted his teeth, preventing a stray scream from leaving his throat. Quite a few days had passed since the battle, but he was still in the middle of turning into a Sky Warrior. At most, it would take a fortnight. However, it often took as little as eight days for an Earth Warrior to become a Sky Warrior.

After the battle, he'd done as the Viscount had commanded him. He'd taken his men to the north, and they'd expanded Viper's camp and taken it as their own. After that, he'd let the strength stored in his body spread. The pain was always there since then. It was bearable during the day. Gasper had even hidden it from Master Rudolf. Nobody noticed his pain during the mornings. But during the nights, it was at its worst. The pain would have been enough to make him yell in pain if he hadn't prepared himself for it.

Even though Master Rudolf had known that he was close to becoming a Sky Warrior before the battle, Gasper hadn't told him anything yet. And the old steward hadn't asked, likely out of kindness. Failing to step further as a Warrior was often the greatest regret of those who chose that path.

Perhaps the old man had already assumed that he'd failed. But he hadn't.

The pain was worst in his gut, and slightly fainter in his limbs. It was like a dull knife tearing his flesh apart under the skin. It often reached a climax during his sleep, waking him up with an arched back. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since his arrival in the north.

As the pain grew weaker and weaker, he relaxed slightly, breathing out. Soon, the pain was mostly gone, and Gasper's eyes drooped. And He let himself be swept away into the darkness of comfort.

..

.

In the morning, he waited for Master Rudolf in the cabin. He needed to ask the fated question today. He wouldn't wait anymore.

There was a knock on the door then the masked old man entered. Gasper didn't say anything as the old man walked towards the table and sat down.

Master Rudolf looked at him in anticipation.

Gasper glanced at the mask on the old man's face.

Master Rudolf easily read his expression. He lifted the mask off his old face and smiled at him. "Is something the matter?"

Gasper nodded, breathing in and out. "Ahem, we have removed the bandits from the basin, Master Rudolf. I'm no longer needed here."

"You are," the old steward said. "The Lord needs you here, in the north."

"Will I be a bandit forever?" Gasper said. He wondered if the Viscount took him for an expendable brigand. He'd offered his life and service to redeem himself from the shame of abandoning the former Viscount. But he'd never intended for himself to be a bandit for redemption. He'd done it because that's what the territory and the Viscount had needed back then, but now there were no more bandits to fool.

"No," Master Rudolf looked at him incredulously. "I don't believe we will stay here for long."

"So we will return?"

Master Rudolf nodded. "Soon, I suppose."

Gasper gulped slowly then looked the old steward in the eye. "When we return, will I be let go? I—"

Master Rudolf interrupted him with a guffaw. After the old man's laughter stopped he looked back at Gasper and said, "You think you've lost your worth to the Viscount, yes?"

Gasper nodded. He'd left the current Viscount's father to his death, and now he'd already done what compensated for that. But all he'd done was fool a few bandits. He was still the man who'd left the side of his Lord at the sight of death. Perhaps the Viscount wouldn't even let him join the army again, let alone treat him any better.

"You assume too much," Master Rudolf chortled, shaking his head. "You've seen nothing from Gerald but his ruthlessness, Gasper. He has very few friends, so it has become his nature. When you only have enemies, you will grow merciless. But that doesn't mean that Gerald will treat a friend the same way."

"Friend?" Gasper cocked his head.

"You will see," the old steward said, smiling. "You have done what he's asked of you, and more. You've risked your life for him. That is enough to show your worth, Gasper. If he doesn't accept you, then he would be a fool of a Lord." He looked at the table with a hint of sorrow. "Gerald has a lot of shortcomings that I failed to help him forsake. But he isn't a fool."

Gasper nodded. He didn't know if Master Rudolf's words were true or not, but he would accept this answer for now. His father had often told him that a man's life was a blend of effort and fate. The two wrestled endlessly. A man's effort tried to veer his fate towards the desired direction. But sometimes, a man needed to stop fearing what fate.

He had already provided the effort, and he would wait for his fate to respond.