Sam
October 13, 1786, Realm Timeline, Austria, near the Morava River
Jumping up, Sam grabbed the next floor's railing with a hand, somersaulting over it. Behind him, the Emperor gasped. Athletics were not something the locals were used to, magic involved or not. Every door he tried was closed, and there were many of them. Leaving the balcony behind, Sam found a wide corridor—its walls covered with paintings—and felt the faint yet certain resonance of his sword, an enchanted, old artifact. He ran toward the signal. Their room was the last, and he dashed inside, looking around. No sign of the luggage. He searched under the bed, in the cabinets, one of which was a small privy, and found nothing.
"Bleeping rich people," he slapped his forehead, exiting back on the couloir, noticing a lateral door, giving in to the adjacent dressing room. All his and Eliza's belongings were neatly unpacked, sitting on racks and waiting for the maid or butler assigned to them to bring them at their request. His sword was in an umbrella holder behind the door.
"Elinor," Sam exhaled happily, grabbing the weapon and kissing it. "I missed you so much!"
He stopped for a moment to look out the window, keeping behind the curtains. The moon was out, but a few clouds dimmed its light. The guests had entered the forest, running eastward, their shapes barely visible. A straggler that had been caught and killed by a pack of hounds, still biting on the corpse. About a dozen soldiers were blindly taking potshots at the woods, but were not following the runaways.
They got the Emperor, and that's the big prize… Good. Let's assess the situation.
He tiptoed back toward the lobby, peeking from the corridor but not daring to go farther on the balcony. The Emperor's limp body hung back and forth on the opposite side of the empty space, suspended from a rope, tied to the second-floor railing. Arms crossed before the dead monarch, the only other person present, the Mage, stared up at the Emperor in silence.
They killed him so fast? That's weird…
Sam hadn't looked well at the mage when they had crossed with the slave caravan, so he did now. A tall and wiry man, not an unusual sight. Magic users of the Third Order, the most dangerous, were seldom fat, because they used a lot of Mana, and that raised the metabolism. What attracted Sam's attention was the tattoo on the right arm, visible through the pulled-up sleeves. It read: Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité.
The French… Go figure.
Now came the hard part: taking the French out. Sam had two choices: going the old way, or trying something new. To those, two more options added up. Jumping over the railing and trying to get the Mage before he could throw a spell at him, or challenging the man to a duel. Sam doubted a French revolutionary would play by the rules, though. A duel was out, which was a pity. He liked those. Unsheathing the katana before the rival even reacted was a priceless sensation.
So, what remained was the surprise attack. Sam was sure the Mage had at least two main abilities. Mind Magic, for controlling slaves, and the Enchanted Items use, for the magical rope that had tied them, and from which the Emperor was now hanged. Both, if Sam was noticed, were good counters to his sword skills.
I should have brought a gun… Against the law, but what the heck…
Maybe he exaggerated the danger a little, because he was yearning to try his new toy. The Interface. Man-made, untested, but supposed to be a game changer.
Pushing against the tsuba with his thumb, Sam took a deep, silent breath and closed his eyes, trying to remember the Mage's position in space, forcing himself not to think about the consequences if he failed his attack.
It's like a game... It's like a game…
He felt the pressure of the Warp Dash mounting behind him, a cushion of folded space pushing into the wall, like a spring. First, he was pulled backward, then propelled forward at a tremendous speed. A thin line of space, a thread, followed him, still connected to the starting place. Sam unsheathed his sword and slashed in a single motion, while still on the way. Iaijutsu Strike.
The sword got stuck and was pulled from his hands; a spray of liquid hit his face, and he opened his eyes. The Mage's body was convulsing on the floor, the sword embedded in his cranium. Sam had aimed for a decapitation, but the job was done nevertheless. Two seconds later, the thrashing stopped. Then came the message.
You have used The Interface for the first time in combat, using Warp Dash and Iaijutsu Strike. Assessing your performance. Rating: excellent, 95%. Objectives completed: Killing Hostile Mage, Saving Emperor. An imperfect hit has been recorded. Train or raise your Focus and/or Dexterity to improve your strike's precision.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Quantum Nanites absorbing information. Quantum Nanites deploying. Congratulations! You have leveled up x2. +1 Int, +1 Will. You have 6 free attribute points to distribute.
Laughing hysterically, drunken by the thrill, Sam let himself fall on the floor. "I did it!"
"Help!" a voice croaked, making him jump up. The Emperor had opened his eyes, trying to cling to the rope with his hands.
"Dude, you still alive?" Sam gasped. "Hang on… sorry, pun unintended."
He tried to extract his sword from the Mage, but the man was heavy, and the body's weight had trapped the katana underneath. Lacking better options, he pushed a chair next to the Emperor, who was clearly near out of breath, and tried to cut the rope with a kitchen knife. The moment his left hand touched the blue strands, a new message appeared.
Do you want to claim Rope [Old Magic relic, Indestructible]? This powerful magical item follows the commands of its Master.
"Yes!" Sam shouted. "Release him!"
The rope untied itself from the railing and Joseph's neck before coiling around Sam's arm. The Emperor's fall was cushioned by the Mage, but it still was a hard landing, face down on the wooden floor.
Fuck, I hope I didn't kill him…
"Still still alive?" Sam hopefully asked.
"Yes. Thank you," Joseph said in a raspy voice, trying to rise on all fours, struggling to breathe.
"T'was the French, not the rebels," Sam announced, jumping down from the chair and sitting on it.
"Yes, the mage was a Robespierrian. He bragged."
"Had the time to brag? It looked like he killed you on the spot… Sorry, tried to kill you."
"Talked for ten minutes…"
Guess finding my weapon took more than I thought.
"…and I pretended to be dead hoping he'd leave," the Emperor had continued meanwhile. "I saw you on the balcony."
"Futak knew," Sam said, squatting to search the Frenchman's body. The Emperor nodded; it was not hard to figure it out.
Finding Joseph's jewelry on the Mage was not surprising. In normal times, Sam would have pocketed at least a ring— life was expensive on the Realm. Now, he was an Envoy and had to raise his standards. He gave back everything.
"Thank you," Joseph said. "These are precious family heirlooms."
Jerk! You could have offered me some as a reward. No wonder people rebel against you.
"We should go rescue our wives," Joseph said, interrupting Sam's thoughts.
"Wait here."
Stepping briskly on his toe and keeping near the wall, Sam advanced to the French door giving to the garden, at the far end of the dining hall. The enemies were still there, walking around, their eyes oriented toward the woods. The hounds were barking in the same direction. The same position he observed from the upper floor. He returned to the Emperor.
"Looks like we're more in need of being saved than the ladies. We'd have to pass through a lot of enemies to get in the woods. I trust Eliza to take care of things on her side; she's very capable."
"We can't just sit and do nothing!" Joseph protested.
"It's exactly what we should do. You are their main target. Let's not draw their attention to the fact that you're still alive. Can't stop bullets." Actually, I might, but only those aimed at myself, and not as many as I'd like…
"Use your guns, like Boycows do. Bam bam bam," the Emperor mimicked somebody shooting with both hands.
"You've seen our movies?" Sam widened his eyes.
"Comics."
"First, it's cowboys, not boycows; that sounds horrible." So much I could use it as an insult… "Second, we're not allowed to take our guns outside the Protectorates, for good reasons. We'd paint targets on our backs. Everybody would want to mug us. And third…" There was no third, or Sam had forgotten it, so he changed the subject. "Help me turn this bastard over and take back my weapon."
"Only if you promise to help me go save my wife," Joseph crossed his arms.
Fuck, he's an idiot!
"Don't you realize we could put her in more danger if we rush blindly on? If we're noticed, they'll follow, and they'll shoot after us. What if a stray bullet kills her? What if—"
"If, if, if. I'm surprised by your lack of gallantry. No gentleman should stand away while their spouses are alone in the woods."
"There's that boy with them too," Sam said.
"Two women and a barely adult young man would be no match for fierce Robespierrians. If you don't come, I will go alone," Joseph said.
To Sam's ears, the word Rastafarians came to mind. It sounded a bit similar to Robespierrians, albeit the latter were anything but peaceful. Or vegans.
"Fine. You go alone," Sam decided. He turned his back on Joseph, trying again to pull his sword free, and yet again failing at it. Turning the man over proved as impossible; it felt like the body weighed a ton.
"It's a half-orc," the Emperor said. "You can tell by the hue of his skin. French are obsessed with intercourse and mate with everything. Have you seen the shape of their breads?"
After six years on the Realm, Sam was used to offensive and racist remarks, and replied with only a snort.
"Help me turn him face up, and I'll consider helping you," he said, intending to renege on his promise.
The Emperor came near Sam, and they both inserted their hands beneath the Frenchman's body.
"Pull!" Sam ordered.
"Verdammt! He's really heavy!" Joseph cursed. Even combined, their effort didn't move the body more than a couple of inches.
"It's… the position…" Sam heaved. "We don't have leverage. Put it back down, I'll think of something…"
The something he could come up with was using his katana scabbard. It was made from a special ironwood growing in the courtyard of a specific temple, built on a Mana leyline in Kyoto.
Please don't break… Please don't break… Sam prayed, pushing the item under the Mage, and pulling up. Joseph helped, and finally they managed to raise the body inch by inch until it fell onto its back.