Administration Building, Royal Academy of Cascadia

  "You can expect a rise of people asking for an audience with you. We intend to refuse them in your stead and have our allies in the royal court absorb them."

  Erich spent the rest of his morning catching up, and the bath did little to soothe the dull pain around his head. Work merged with lunch, and King Henry and his brother were no strangers to it.

  They were on the terrace at the top floor lounge. Heading back to the palace or visiting the court was a delicate situation that required careful consideration and awareness of potential challenges. In other words, it was a pain in the ass.

  Erich was there with him.

  "Will that be enough?"

  "I doubt it. That's why I'm asking if you are open to the idea of accommodating them."

  "I am through my staff; They need the rapport. Please make it easier for them if possible."

  "Of course. Additionally, if you are receptive to it, you can open an internship for students in your office. It should minimize the adults flocking you."

  "I'll be fine with that. Socializing, on the other hand, is out of my hands."

  "Understandable. As king, I have to balance between close and distant. It's like walking a dog. Let it roam free, but always know when to pull the leash."

  "I appreciate the advice, Your Majesty."

  "Now, I'd like to discuss your residence."

  "I get to have a house?"

  "We call it the Lake House. You should have seen it during the walk to the academy. The building by the lake at the square?"

  The one that looked like the back side of Versailles Palace? "I thought that was the royal court."

  "The court is across it."

  Erich's eyes rolled. He can already imagine the mad midnight dash of stahlhelms and jackboots if they had the extra steel and leather.

  "Can I start assuming the most important buildings are by the lakeside?"

  "That would be a correct assumption. The Cascadian Shield around us is a formidable natural wall with only one narrow passage further away that leaves room for agriculture. My forefathers went to great lengths to convince nobles to build their vacation homes here."

  No different than every palace in Europe becoming either a museum or the legislative. He only glanced at it once, but it should be big enough to house his staff.

  "What do you normally do with it?"

  "As a banquet hall and museum. Once a law is passed, the Prime Minister declares it to a crowd on a balcony. It's also where I oversee parades and–"

  A dinosaur roar cut him off. Erich squinted. Four lizard-headed pterodactyls migrated from the east, carrying a white box shimmering gold.

  "Our knights' flying carriage," the king said. "They must be returning from Estrier."

  Erich expected more flying pumpkin carriages instead of putting too much trust in ropes and lizards.

  "Your Majesty, if that house has attendants, they can take the rest of the day off. It's time I assemble the rest of my staff."

  One look from the king and some of his knights left.

  "Once again, I hope we can establish a good relationship."

  "I hope so, too."

  "Following recent events, I have taken the liberty to consult with the Abbess of the Altar of Heroes and the Royal Keeper of Articles and Personal Effects, the purser of heroic relics, and we have agreed to give you possession of an item that may serve you well."

  King Henry waved a group of paladins forward, one holding a decorative box that had seen better days. They opened it in front of him.

  "What am I looking at?"

  "This, Sir Erich, is an insurance."

  A woman's necklace? "Who's the unlucky lady?"

  "This is the Necklace of No Regrets. It cast a strong shield on the wearer that could negate even the King of Demons' attacks."

  Erich sliced clean through his meal, smacking the plate.

  "It was said to be made from the essence of an ancient dragon, hence the deep red gem."

  "And you just have one lying around?"

  "A hero's authority is necessary for it to function. Otherwise," King Henry grabbed the necklace, "it's nothing more than a piece of jewelry. It may not be much, Sir Erich, but we hope it will save you when the time comes."

  "Not much?"

  "It's a gift handed down between heroes from a predecessor so ancient that his name is forever lost, made to protect the ones they love."

  "What happened?"

  "The leading theory is he lost his lover during the culmination of his era. Heroes have made it the likeliest reason from the semi-permanent note left alongside it. But as you can see, it has outlasted the spell."

  A paladin offered a tweezer, one to flip it to the other side. It's written in English:

  I spent my entire life learning magic to program– enchant instructions so that you may never know the loss I had. Betrayal or widowed—contingencies have been made.

  Forget about using this necklace as your shield. On you, it's better than nothing. On them, you will not settle for less. Your greatest shield will, and always will, be knowing when to step back.

  "A romantic through and through."

  "Generations of researchers have studied it," Prince John said. "Even now, we are still trying to unwrap the complex web of magic that could trigger the shield even if an assassin were to kill you in your sleep."

  He can't blame the guy too much. If an invincible hero starts walking around, everyone will be troubled. However, the wording the man left… 'program.' The word always gets thrown around in genetics and the like to argue it might be a key to the secret of magic. But never mind that. All contingencies have been made.

  If a strong companion were to wear it, "Are there any records saying their companion became stronger upon wearing it?"

  "Not necessarily, but it does allow a person limitless potential. For instance," King Henry placed a hand on Annalise's shoulder. "If my niece were to conjure a powerful spell such as Tranquility again, she could theoretically absorb mana at the same rate as she depleted since that would be considered a danger."

  With how heartbroken the guy was, there had to be a failsafe in case the next loser was desperate for a girlfriend. Whatever, Erich loosened his tie, unbuttoned the two top collars, and put the necklace on.

  The red gem glowed before resuming its shimmer in the sunlight. Then, he felt the barrel of a Mauser pressed against his head.

  "What's the meaning of this?!"

  A raised finger stopped the paladins, giving the guards behind Erich the chance to lower their bayoneted rifles toward them.

  "I appreciate the intentions, Your Majesty, but I'm not too trusting. I've seen the slaves during my walk. I saw the glowing collars."

  "Sir Erich, enslaving you would be Cascadia's death. That's how Laurentia fell."

  "I'm open to being corrected, but I don't see much evidence other than words."

  Rummaging came from Annalise. She placed her bag on her hip and produced a textbook from class. She jumped off her seat and thrust it to him, opening it to the first few pages.

  "The introduction. It begins with a cautionary tale when the Conclave usurped the Laurentian throne."

  Erich dulled his glare. She'd be the last person to help out, and she knew it.

  He read past what she said. The Conclave or: Dutch and English Parliamentarians. Then, he came across the enslaved hero and imperialism. Whatever they forced him to do broke him and his chains to rampage, leaving the rest to rise in a third-rate Grand Coalition to end his suffering.

  Erich flipped more pages to underline bits and pieces of each lesson worth remembering for the exams. He let it drag on for a moment, gathered Annalise's face, then her uncle and father, and shut the book.

  "Karlheinz, let's postpone my death for a while."

  The barrel moved away from his head. Erich's guards shouldered their rifles.

  "I apologize for the scare, Your Majesty, everyone, but it's as you said earlier—insurance."

  Swordsmound Barracks, Royal Knight Order of Cascadia

  Aurelia's legs sprang at the hint of the carriage reaching a creaking stop. She broke for the gate and crossed the road to another. The knights guarding the palace gate straightened before her presence. The one posted at the smaller gate opened for her. Aurelia stopped short.

  "Have they returned?"

  "No, Your Royal Highness."

  She turned to the post clock near the gate. The hands matched the rumbling in her stomach. Hopefully, they noticed the carriage earlier. Crunching boots came from the small gate. Dozens of knights emerged, their white uniforms seamed with the black piping of the Spymaster's Third Eye. They exchanged curt bows/nods and went to the barracks.

  Aurelia sighed. "If they return, tell them I'll be eating outside."

  "Yes, Your Royal Highness."

  For a fleeting moment, she wondered if a meal outside would suffice. There was a good place near White Square. A hero like him needed a lot of space to work with. Where else would he go next? Her legs and sword were drawn to the conclusion.

  It was just a few minutes' walk, and the restaurants were full for lunch. She settled with a burrito, told the attendant to add more meat, and idled beside a royal knight on sentry duty by the Lake House's portico. The eventual glance came, and Aurelia shrugged, but his head snapped forward once he noticed her white hair.

  She was already half-done with her meal; she swallowed most of the flavor. A drink would be nice. Aurelia retraced her steps and lined up at another store. The one in front of her wandered his eyes where he stood and offered his spot. Aurelia waved him back in.

  "That won't be necessary."

  By then, the fruits inside the dispenser were no longer swimming. The attendant got up on a stool and conjured a water spell, and Aurelia too wandered where she stood. Three new shiny figures marched through the square. Odd. It was still noon. The shift has just started. Aurelia broke away from the line and hastened her steps.

  That could be it. The new paladins' faint commands spurred the sentries to a formation, and then the inaudible voices followed. The one on the right turned Aurelia's way, and the newcomers straightened themselves.

  "Your Royal Highness, you've returned!"

  "What is this?"

  "We were about to relieve the attendants of the Lake House for the day at the National Hero's request."

  National– "The hero's coming here?"

  "He has told His Majesty that he shall assemble his staff."

  Staff. It must be his ability. "Very well. I shall accompany you."

  "As you wish, My Lady."

  The smell of horseshit smacking Erich in the face and slapping his ass on the way to White Square left a lot to be desired.

  He unholstered his notebook and pen, jotted down tram and bicycle into it, adding a line on the latter, and encircled the word 'subsidized.' The side streets were a haven, but that wasn't saying much. The zoning needed some diversity to overpower the stench with bakery yeast.

  He and his guards turned at one corner, and the street expanded, Versailles Palace's ass end at one side. The other across it also filled up the whole block, so it must be the diet. The place had an old vibe that'd make you live out an upper-class Victorian fantasy without smallpox and–

  Erich stopped twenty meters short of the Lake House and popped out his notebook again.

  "To complete a survey, what do you all think a soldier wants?"

  "Victory, of course."

  "Glory to the fatherland."

  "Coming home to your woman."

  And so they say.

  "What about a good toilet?"

  The guards looked at each other as if they had never considered it. Erich wrote it down for now. He's not doing a Number Two anytime soon, but he already pissed into a pot to give a damn because a hero's piss somehow made the soil more fertile than anyone's piss.

  Knights guarding the entrance presented their halberds upon arrival, and the foyer was nothing to write home about since it was his and his predecessors' home. And that meant something.

  "Lord Hero, as requested, we have relieved the attendants for the day."

  "Good."

  "The Steward of the Lake House, the chief of the household's staff, has left dozens of books and accounts that may be useful in your study."

  "His Majesty told me this building's uses, so I'm assuming the three know of you where it is."

  "Right this way, sir."

  The paladins took them to the humble hallways of the first floor. Portraits of past heroes lined up, their names in the local script, the Latin alphabet, Cyrillic, Chinese, and Japanese. The art style varied between Da Vinci and Medieval English.

  They stopped at a double door. Someone had already beaten them to the room.

  "Oh, Your Highness, you were here."

  Erich went around the desk to his right. Although there were many books to unpack, there was still space for his two notebooks. The table sandwiched between two sofas matched the entrance, with the French doors leading to a big balcony. It was even bigger than his old living room.

  He started looking over what the steward had left. The biggest one was the upkeep—no surprises there. What seemed to be reports and proposals were bound in tape, but those were for later and not for him. Erich joined the princess at the table with five unrolled A0-sized pieces of paper displaying the floor plans.

  He stopped at the biggest square shown and waved to the door.

  "Someone grab the floor plans. We're off to the ballroom."

  Erich took point and led them to the ground floor. Too much natural light entered the ballroom through the tall, arched windows displaying the waterfall. The sight will be the face of a paper bill, that's for sure. Fortunately, there was a height difference between the ground floor and the lakeside street, so nobody could see anything without someone noticing.

  He turned to the three knights. "Gentlemen, if I can gather your names."

  The paladins started from right to left. "I am Ierus of Polset."

  "I am called Valdor of Lapitaine."

  "Harthoine of Siltefon, Lord Hero."

  Erich wrote their names down.

  "Sirs Ierus, Valdor, Harthoine, you are free to report what you see to His Majesty. However, what is about to happen is a secret you must bring to your grave. For the sake of Cascadia and this world, can you promise me that?"

  They looked at the princess.

  "The paladins are our family's first knights. Their loyalty is to the House, not the Crown."

  Erich imagined his User Interface. While busy with the eternal migraine, he accrued 200 Political Power points. He filled up an advisor slot, dropping it by 50, and willed what was real into reality.

  The air around the spot became fuzzy—a heat haze or the distorted air above a candle's flame. It reached around the height of his guards and rippled like a drop of water into a bucket full of it. It expanded and bounced back, but none of the ripples clashed. He'd call it a kaleidoscope, but it's not something he could explain in a sentence, let alone a paragraph.

  As the seconds passed, more droplets hit it and crossed each wave unimpeded. It became chaotic. That formed the silhouette of a man. Soon, the body, legs, and head became black; the face became rosy pale. The black suit and fleshy features appeared.

  Thomas Laughlin was a man a few years Erich's senior, mid-twenties at best, British—a new blood with bright ideas. But the fierce eyes behind those eyeglasses showed his soberness. It was only a base expression while the ripples died down. Once it had ceased, he looked at Erich and the rest nonchalantly as though his existence a mere twenty seconds ago had exceeded twenty years.

  "Thomas, I'm glad to have you with us. Now get in line."

  He caught on quickly and did so. Erich willed the rest and counted at least twenty-two before the kaleidoscope effect merged them into one. Spy Agency heavies appeared on his right, rigid and at formation; the meat appeared on the left, reserved, youthful, and armed with paper; and the center, the brain, the rotund mustachioed and stoic gentlemen in penguin-back suits seen in black-and-white photos that make one wonder what mark they left in history.

  The bespectacled gentleman in his fifties, well-renowned as his belly, from the center group stepped forward, thrusting his hand to Erich.

  "Sir, Emmanuel Finch, Director of the Center of Intelligence Services."

  Erich replied with both hands, "A pleasure, Director. Welcome to the Lake House," and prompted him to Thomas's side.

  "Gentlemen, this is Her Highness, Crown Princess Aurelia of the Kingdom Cascadia. She'll be a familiar face from here on out, so get used to it."

  The three exchanged bows/nods. Erich motioned the guard with the floor plans and set it on the ground.

  "Alright, Director. We're all hands on deck. Have you been briefed?"

  "We understand our priority is the creation of an extra-legal military force under the guise of general development to deter outside powers?"

  Capitalists with a freikorps. The thought hasn't sunk in yet, but it sure had a lot of icebergs on its way.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Paramilitary. The simplest synonym would be Militia. Anyway, this place is supposed to be half a vacation house and half a function building. The original staff of this Lake House has been relieved for the day, so get the offices and departments sorted. I have priority in the study room. Princess, you already had it open before, so you should have a favorite spot by now."

  "I do."

  Erich frowned. She pointed to the hallway outside his study with her sword.

  "That's for my secretary."

  "I'm your Guardian Plenipotentiary. I am both your shield and liaison to the Crown. I once liaised with the departments of the Chamber of War, so it will not be strange."

  "My paternal grandparents got used to having political officers ready to stab them in the back if they don't dance to their tune, so don't be modest."

  She looked at the floor plans, giving Erich and Emmanuel time to share a glance, and back.

  "I'll set up a desk for you in my study. Since there are over thirty people here, we need to justify their presence. Does a midnight convoy to the stables sound reasonable, Emmanuel?"

  "It should."

  "Then, Princess, I will have to impose on you."

  "Yes. Of course. Please excuse me."

  With a bow, she brisked away.

  "Emmanuel, Thomas, with me to my office."

  "Pardon me, Lord Hero," one of the knights said.

  "What can I do for you?"

  "Forgive me for imposing, but it would be wise not to speak anything in relation to stabbing one in the back with Her Royal Highness."

  "Reason?"

  "That was how her fiance fell."

  "Fell?"

  It was an awful choice of wording.

  "When Her Highness was just nine, she was betrothed to Sir Lukyan of the Ducal House Yamasashi, which traced its lineage to a hero with the title of Sword Saint."

  That explains the soy sauce.

  "One House's jealousy reached its threshold as to paint it as a Salaian assassination attempt. Sir Lukyan defended her as expected, fought long enough to time the guards' arrival, only to get stabbed in the back in front of Her Highness and make it appear the plot failed."

  Erich sighed. Emmanuel showed the same concern. If that's how everyone complained, he won't see the end of it.

  "Is this mere pity, Sir Knight?" Emmanuel said. "Or are there any repercussions that occurred that we should be aware of, given her connection with our superior?"

  "The amount inside the royal coffers had always plagued our transition to a musket-fielded army. With Salais breathing down our necks, we grew desperate and bowed to a mere Verussean Union kingdom for their weapons when they began to replace it with newer models."

  One of the paladins nodded. "It was meant to be a Personal Union with Normant's second prince and Her Royal Highness."

  Normant, their western neighbor, one kingdom away. Mere was an understatement. It looked like the size of a Bavarian regierungsbezirke (Governmental District) or two at RP Amiens.

  "What happened?"

  "Her Royal Highness swore to inherit the title of Sword Saint in the wake of Sir Lukyan's death, so the Duke of Yamasashi put her in hell. Six years later, she learned the Normantian prince shared the same passion as her, but he made one mistake. He was too passionate. He mocked Sir Lukyan, and he now has a deep scar on his face."

  "Will that be a problem?"

  "Fortunately, the matter has been settled, and for the last three years since the incident, we've only faced a few tut-tuts and Her Royal Highness labeled with distasteful titles. However, she has remained protective of those she loved ever since."

  That means she was either holding back with Erich or got sadistic.

  "Good to know."

  A surprise, sure, but there was no need for one. Princess Aurelia was an over-glorified messenger with a force of adjutants across the Ministries of the Crown and compilers preparing everything for the king's stamp. Why would the princess, who spent dozens of boots and tunics on the ground, suddenly start wearing high heels and frilly dresses?

  It will not be lost to everyone what the king has done. Nobody was stupid, but they've forced everyone to hazard a guess. Entrenching the Hero in Cascadia, the Hero has fallen in love with either or both ladies in the line of succession; it was a Bishop's Opening.

  Its strengths lie not in its development but in sowing uncertainty.

  "Thomas, have you ever considered building in a desert?"

  "Are we, sir?"

  "We have a ton of real estate to work with."

  The amount of building slots for a country the size of Belgium did not lie.

  "I promised the diet for results in a month, so we'll start by introducing rail to major points in the kingdom. This world turned it into a fairy tale, so they'll know its worth. What's important is that we build up our industry."

  Erich unrolled the map on the table like a hologram. The scuffed painting aroused a brow from his Captain of Industry and Spy Director.

  "We are here, the Kingdom of Cascadia, the white one occupying the Luxembourg-Saarland-Nord Lorraine area. Any secret mention of locations will henceforth be known as reference points and the name of the place in our world."

  "Lots of colors."

  "Tons of painters. The fastest way to break the barrier is arms trading, but as you can see, I'm just a baby with too much responsibility to know what's good and what's bad."

  Erich pointed his pen at Estrier.

  "We have RP Trier on the east. It's a trade hub that some big merchant guilds and companies use to funnel goods for cheap due to a secret deal. If you want something, you can find it there."

  "Your wording is rather hinting at something, sir," Emmanuel said.

  "Bread prices have gotten cheaper there, but if we contextualize the fact this is Old Europe stained with ideas they aren't ready for, we're seeing an economic capitulation to foreign owners that may or may not be secretly nationalized."

  "Did lower tariffs affect the kingdom's premier industries?"

  "I'm the supplier. I don't bother with the details. That's why I called you two here."

  In fairness to Erich, he could hazard a guess: Cheaper imports would beat local industries, putting the artisan and farmer in a bar together and kicking off the next peasant revolt. The duchy would then resell the goods to other lands with a higher markup to cover the losses.

  It had to be far worse than what Annalise told him, but there were more pressing matters to care about one more conspiracy.

  "Cascadia is a relic of a once prosperous Kingdom of Laurentia, so it's naturally graced with portions of Viae Laurentia, Laurentia Roads. They're rugged enough for megafauna larger than the elephants you imagine roaming Shangri-La."

  "Praiseworthy enough to focus on rail infrastructure?"

  "I heard there's Tin Mines by Saarbrücken."

  "Tin? Are we going for market dominance on canned food?"

  "That's a good pretense. But it's not the metal we're after. It's the impurities."

  "Tungsten," the word came out of Emmanuel's mouth as an afterthought. "Artillery."

  "Exactly. Thomas, I need you to make friends and look around for more. The king's council is setting up an Interministerial Council on Cascadian Development and is already making moves to acquire iron."

  "I'd like to meet them at earnest. I'm sure iron is not the only good we're in dire need of."

  "Nonetheless, I must ask, sir," Emmanuel said. "We're moving too fast to make sense. How do we justify the speed?"

  "When I arrived in this world, it sent a wave in the atmosphere, their mana."

  "Moses?"

  "No, not Moses! Stamina! For their magic. Anyway, when in doubt, that wave was just a boast. I appeared long enough to gather all of you."

  Thomas nodded. "What are the prospects of telegraphy and telephony?"

  "I'm still wondering whether we can use magic as an alternative to coal power plants. I'm also wondering how cheaper that'd be, slavery and all."

  It made the video game aspects of reality more humbling. Laurentia Glimmers, the Cascadian National Spirit, gave them a 15% buff in Civilian Factory and Infrastructure Construction. It appeared overpowered for a Spirit, and it was for their level. How it's portrayed is guesswork. But be it coal, nuclear, or geothermal, they all make the same steam to spin the same turbine.

  Erich's Economy Law, Total Isolation, and its six off-map MILs, CIVs, and the non-existent Consumer Goods won't last long once the first factory goes online. But it's a price for tapping into Cascadian manpower and sharing factories rather than relying on the immaterium that is his powers.

  "I see. And how do we refer our security for our businesses here, and what resume do they have to wield a rifle?"

  "You're too modest. Emmanuel, I hate to burden the CIS with unrelated work, but I'll rely on your help raising the Internal Security Service's image."

  "What group are we advancing, sir?"

  "Mercenaries and freedmen."

  Emmanuel's eyes drifted to Thomas. "That implies many things."

  "The king promised me a lump sum to keep up the image of consistency, but we can't rely on one purse. Monopolize the railway, set up a consortium with the landed nobility on civilian factories, have our share…"

  Erich wrote down 'Trade Unions'.

  "Use stocks as collateral for a loan and be stingy on the definition of a wage until the factories make a profit before a specter haunts Verussea."

  "Frankly speaking, it would be difficult to stay in a fiscal deficit with the arms industry," Thomas said.

  "An easy leverage to obtain mining rights."

  "And a security risk pending discussion."

  "Is a break-action shotgun a security risk, Emmanuel?"

  "Don't play semantics on a jager, sir."

  Erich shrugged.

  "We've digressed far enough. The Internal Security Service will be the umbrella of a collection of agencies designed to provide security related to the Cascadian Development Plan. We have my security detail, the railway police, factory security; we'll work our way up to gendarmerie and border security until enough time has passed for the smokescreen to disperse and call it for what it is."

  Someone rapped on the door.

  "What?"

  A guard entered and clicked his heels. "The prince and his daughter wish to see you, sir."

  Erich tossed his pen before he could crush it. He summoned a flask of beer and took a shot. The awkward looks from Thomas and Emmanuel sobered him.

  "Let them in."

  A barrel to his head should've been the escalation they needed to back off and think for a moment before making their next move.

  "I instructed my guards to pop my head in case I got magically enslaved." Their gazes got dimmer. Erich removed his tie and unbuttoned his collar. "Turns out it was a protective charm."

  The eventual knock came, and the three rose and let their lips naturally curve.

  "Come in!" the guests entered. "Your Highness, Your Grace, welcome! Unfortunately, our staff doesn't know where the tea leaves and snacks are, so I must apologize."

  "I figured there would not be a housewarming, so we came to visit." Prince John grinned and set aside his jest. "Truthfully, we wish to thank you for your help. However, did we come at an inopportune time?"

  "If anything, I'd like to receive your gratitude more than ever."

  "Oh?"

  "Your Highness, this man is Thomas Laughlin, my political advisor on civil infrastructure and industrial affairs, and Emmanuel Finch, Director of the Center of Intelligence Services."

  "Gentlemen, it is a pleasure. I thank you on behalf of my brother, His Majesty, for coming."

  "I don't want to take any more time off from you two, but do you find a hero that was summoned long before I actually arrived a good excuse, Sir John?"

  "The ritual is a national secret, but we will be tackling inconsistencies regarding a well-recorded process spanning eras. The question is whether our descendants can endure the consequences of twisting the truth."

  "Emmanuel, it looks like we'll be political on arms sales after all."

  "I will have it noted."

  "Sir Erich, if there is any concern, we will focus our attention even if the sun sets and rises again.

  "I appreciate the commitment, sir, but I'm sure you will have your attention focused somewhere else."

  Prince John chuckled, setting his arms around Annalise's shoulder. The latter smiled and looked away, embarrassed.

  "Indeed. Unfortunately, it appears that time has become too scarce to permit it. And I will do what I must to support you. Nonetheless, that is natural. We owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my dear daughter."

  "I don't feel greedy today, so I'll collect it late–" A lightbulb lit over Erich's head. "How public do you have to show your appreciation?"

  "It appears I cannot hide it from you. I'd rather say it to you privately now when the time comes that I must boast this debt to you in front of my peers."

  So that's the missing link.

  "Miss Annalise, a job opening just came up. It's part-time so you won't miss classes, but the pay won't be much."

  "I could never receive anything for what you have given me and for what you are giving to Cascadia."

  There goes that idea. "Then we'll think about it later. Emmanuel, Thomas, are you both free for the day?"

  "I can leave the work to my assistant."

  "I can't work if I can't speak, sir."

  "Then, Sir John, I'll have to ask for your time to speak with them. I'm sure they have more to say than a figurehead."

  Prince John looked wry. What? If there's anyone more self-deprecating than Erich, she's right there.

  "Hmm. Then, if you two gentlemen could."

  "Of course. Let us take this discussion somewhere else."

  "Annalise?"

  "You may go on ahead, father. I wish to speak to Sir Erich in private."

  The man looked back at Erich. A worried look, some might say, but no. Truth and lies, they're all the same—with a purpose. It was foresight at best and a bad habit at worst. Erich pretended not to notice. After all, it happened as fast as the blink of an eye.

  "As long as he permits it."

  "I don't mind."

  Erich returned to his seat and fiddled with his pen, hovering over the doodle book.

  "Then take care," and he gave Erich a farewell nod. "Sir Erich."

  Prince John, Emmanuel, and Thomas left the space, discussing exploitation in its broadest definition, and left the plant as if she hadn't executed dozens of her classmates in front of everybody.

  Erich doodled a tight junction with a side street going left at the northern side and put the bullet at the right end. There's something poetic about adopting the MG 15 n.A's father, the Bergmann 1902 machine gun, in lieu of the MG 08 and its German Maxim elders.

  It was a choice between the ideal gun later or a gun you could use now. This dilemma led to the creation of the Null-Acht/Fünfzehn, a mobile (albeit questionable) gun developed from a proven system. After all, change was a prosperous and dangerous idea in attritional warfare. And he needed a machine gun now.

  "What are you writing?"

  "Things you hate."

  Annalise perched on the side of his desk. She wasn't helping her spine, trying to keep herself in his general view. But so did the days in his internal calendar speeding up. Erich's certain he'll inflame his temples at the rate he's rubbing them. Deviating away from the base tech must've made it worse, but was the price he'll pay to experiment worth it?

  "Are you okay?"

  Of course, there's still her, too. Erich got up and opened the cabinet behind his desk—nothing. Besides the sophistication of mahogany furnishing and philosophical mysteries on the bookshelf and paintings, there's nothing special around the room.

  "Don't worry too much about those you hate, Miss Annalise."

  "Who says I hate you?"

  "Next moment, you'll tell me you actually liked me."

  "It's not impossible," she began gathering the clutter of paper over his desk. "Have you ever heard of peace marriages?"

  "No."

  "It's a political marriage to bring about a peace treaty."

  "You know, loving yourself is the first step to sanity."

  He moved away and knelt in front of the wine cabinet at the side. Again, nothing. Annalise chuckled.

  "My gift is heresy to the Temple of the Golden Shard. I was forced to flee to the Altar of Heroes to escape its zealots as a lady-in-waiting to an existence that never was and balked when my family thought your arrival would kindle my nonexistent sense of responsibility."

  Erich one-plus-one'd what he's known about her so far. If it wasn't being deployed to the Middle East, it was fighting Christians like it's 1517 with brass instead of nailing 95 theses on doors.

  "Something to do with that suicide– I mean selfless magic?"

  "Heroes of old weren't surprised. One had the gall to stereotype the temple as corrupt men veiled in golden rays and white holy cloth. 'It's all on the belly,' they say. Now that I'm discarding my duty as Prioress Superior, more people I care about are in danger."

  That's one illustration for the future kulturkampf. Nevertheless, Erich was not blind to what Annalise wanted from him.

  "Good friends, then."

  He gave her a pat on the shoulder and stopped. Something was… weird. It shouldn't be possible.

  "Uhm…"

  Annalise's shoulder got stiff. He pulled his hand back.

  "Oh, sorry. Back home, we normally show affection by not criticizing you constantly, so I must've over-corrected when I noticed how touchy you people were."

  "Oh, no, no. I– I'ts fine."

  He took a deep breath. It was the most bullshit he's seen in the world. It had to be a fluke.

  "Considering we'll be very good friends from here on out, we need a consistent theme to show our friendship."

  "It'd be easier if you're courting me after the show and break it off once your strength grows profoundly."

  "Should I lecture you or your extended family about something called 'subtlety'?"

  "There's nothing subtle about why I'm here with you."

  Erich raised a brow.

  "Don't be alarmed. We share the same concern for prying eyes. As for how we are to conduct ourselves." She perched on his side of the desk. "Wouldn't it be fine not to concern ourselves with outside opinions?"

  "That depends on what you define as 'outside.'"

  "Goodness, and you complain about subtlety."

  "It helps that I'm the one standing between the kingdom and tons of wealth."

  She smirked. "If only you were a simple man…"

  "If only. Now that we're so-called friends, how about lending a hand with the paperwork? Consider it as your internship."

  "Are you sure you'll open your office to internships? It will give the undeserving a solid repertoire."

  "Really now, Prioress Superior?"

  "Former. Or are you trying to woo me by monopolizing my attention as your personal secretary?" she teased, yet she dragged a chair to his desk and unraveled the paperwork. "Should I summarize this?"

  "Yes, but shouldn't you have classes today?"

  "Mm-hmm. But with the entire student body chanting the hero's death, what's the point? You should've been there to feel the mood."

  The reveal of a hero? Or the blood on your hands?

  "How're you feeling?"

  "Must you ask me this question? I'm fine."

  "Anna, don't lie. You look pathetic."

  "Am I not pathetic?"

  "You can be what you want to be. Isn't that the luxury of being free?"

  Pages fluttered. All those movies and shows were paying off. Erich doodled the last, finer bits of the American helmet icon representing the basic infantry unit.

  "Don't pity those you do not trust."

  "What if I do?"

  "Then are you really trying to woo me?" she sneered. "No, you can't do this to yourself."

  "Don't expect highly from people if you don't want to feel disappointed. You don't know if they lived a life full of disappointment."

  "Is that how you see yourself?"

  "I tend not to look at myself."

  "Then where are those eyes looking at, I wonder?"

  Annalise leaned closer with cupped cheeks, dog eyes, and a cuter smile like how the Asian does it. It's so off-putting how she and many looked no different to someone in Erich's timeline. He expected more fat people and sixteen-year-olds looking like thirty after a few years in the coal mines.

  "You went for the clearer notebook."

  "We're friends now. Clearer goals."

  "Why?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "It should."

  A hand stopped him from writing the third dash of the 'Prevent accidentally dating a Cascadian' list. It insisted on his pen and replaced it. Erich could pull away from Annalise's gentle grip, but that's the problem. She made it a choice.

  Then it happened again—the strange sensation when Erich patted her shoulder.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm seducing you."

  "Why?"

  "For playing with a woman's heart."

  "You still have a heart?"

  "Jealous?"

  Using her hands for leverage, she sprang from her chair, twirling gracefully in the air during her thousand-mile journey to him, ultimately settling on his lap with her ear pressed against his chest. Erich lifted his hands and surveyed the area. If there were any repercussions, she wouldn't have insurance coverage.

  "This is?"

  "Our niche."

  "Niche?"

  "Yes. You know, something specific you can do with a specific friend."

  "That's a lot of work to unravel for the lazy ones. I wouldn't blame them if they settled for a simple guess."

  Annalise shushed him and pressed her ear to his chest. "I can hear it beating faster."

  "There's tons of reasons why."

  She yawned. "Can we stay like this for a while?"

  Erich's eyes rolled, and he ran his hand through her hair and continued writing with the other.

  "That's just cheating."

  "You woke up too early, didn't you?"

  She growled. "At least tell me to stay like this for a while. Tell me you'll be there for me. Tell me you won't leave my side… even if it's a lie. That way, you don't have to waste effort being suspicious towards me."

  Sometimes, Erich can't get a read on her. A part of him believed she was free to manipulate as she told him, that she was humoring a fact just like someone might make fun of oneself by telling another that they're shy with utmost confidence.

  But it more or less confirmed his suspicion. Headaches come and go gradually. One-speed was a dull, aching sensation everywhere, ranging around three to four on the pain scale. Two-speed caused a dizzying migraine after a heavy night of drinking. God knows what Three-speed does.

  With Annalise, he was at 2-speed with 1-speed effects. Recalling the times Erich had physical contact with Annalise, the pain was at its peak, so it went unnoticed. And if the effects of 1-speed were truly mitigated, it would take time to know once the pain subsided.

  The Power of Friendship was starting to make sense. But he couldn't care anymore. Seeing time moving fast without consequences was a worry off his mind, although it only worked on one tab and one tab only. That means he can't speed up construction and army training consecutively.

  What a fucking joke.

  "You should've left me for dead the second time."

  "Maybe I should've. But I still owe you a tour around the city and my town, remember?"

  "I can't do anything about it, can I?"

  "Liar."