Eliza
October 14, 1786, Realm Timeline, Pressburg/Bratislava, The Slovakian Protectorate
"Do you know how we got here?" Eliza started.
"You, meaning you specifically, or the Outworlders?" Tristan asked.
"The latter."
"I think so... Through a magical gate?"
"Sort of... It's more like a passage, a tunnel, and you don't even see it. Okay, let's get back to the story. Six years ago, our scientists were doing some sort of quantum experiment."
"Sorry?"
"A magic test, but with science. By happenstance, they discovered a new category of elementary particles: the thing you call Mana. If you combine it with some sort of energy field, you can use it to open wormholes."
"Why would one bother to—"
"It means portals. Earth tried to open several, but only one worked. It led into a cave in this world. Drones... mechanical golems, were sent to explore, then people. They found out the Realm was identical to ours, except for two things. One is magic—"
"Because your magic is different?"
"Earth doesn't have magic. In our reality, Mana is unstable. It decays before it could interact with anything. It took a huge facility to stabilize some enough to open the portal. It was as big as a city, and had a nuclear plant of its own."
"But you bestowed me with powers," the youngster insisted.
"We'll get to that later. The second difference is time. Here, it's the late eighteenth century; back home, the middle of the twenty-first."
"Whaaaaat?" the boy slackjawed. "You're from the future?"
"Not your future, a future from a similar planet. History is the same, go figure. The differences were very small, despite the magic and all. Our scientists couldn't figure out why."
"Amazing!"
"The proper word is wow."
"Wow," Tristan repeated.
"Perfect, just widen your eyes more. So... The first explorers reported back, more people came, and they made contact. Then things became complicated. A similar world, but less developed, meant new resources. People argued about ethics, interventionism, but in the end, the conclusion was that if we took over and brought you up to our standards of civilization, we were doing you a favor."
"Why?" Tristan frowned. "We are civilized!"
"Let me put it this way: For Earth, civilized means no slaves—"
"Serfs," Tristan corrected her. "Isn't it better to let things go at their own pace?"
"That's what we think now," Eliza nodded. Not really. We're still pushing you in the right direction, but at a slower pace… "Back then, the people in charge decided otherwise, and we… well… kinda invaded."
Drinking the second coffee in one go, Tristan nodded. "But we fought back and won."
"How old are you?" Eliza frowned. In her opinion, the boy looked sixteen.
"Twenty-two, my liege."
"You look much younger. Must be the magic."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Never mind. Actually, we won."
"You didn't..."
Tristan's voice faded out. Sam had left a silver coin on the table and was exiting hand in hand with Penelope. Tristan followed the woman's ass with big eyes, like a wolf eyeing a juicy lamb, his head turning in slow motion, making Eliza wish to slap him.
"The problem wasn't winning," she said louder, snapping her fingers to get his attention back. "It was management. We simply lacked the numbers to take over large swaths of land, so we settled for... well, the Protectorates."
"Then, we won," Tristan said.
"Let's say we both won. Call it a draw. What happened next is more important. Bleep hit the fan."
"May I ask what bleep stands for?"
"Our powers come with a skill called the Universal Translator. It includes a Profanity Filter that replaces any swear word with a bleep. You'll get used to it. Now, about the problems. The portal destabilized, and our Seer warned us that it would close."
"Wow! You have a Seer? That's very rare."
"It's an AI with prediction abilities, actually... Never mind. Our leaders panicked and ordered everyone back to Earth. We had over a hundred thousand people on this side, most of them from the US Army. Now, one of the problems was that many of us preferred the Realm and decided to stay behind. Sam and I were amongst them. He, because of Penny, and I to keep my health."
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"Did the portal—"
"Closed? Yes, eventually. Our scientists believe the reason it shut off is that we changed your history."
"C-change... h-history? Like what?"
"In many ways. The French Republic appeared a decade earlier, for instance."
"Those devil worshipers are part of your history?"
"Yes. Ruled by a general who rampaged through all of Europe."
"First Consul Lafayette?"
"Napoleon. He's still a kid here..." Eliza said absentmindedly, looking through the window at a flock of doves flying around. A sign of the delicate peace that was, for now, holding. "Anyway... There are two main factions among us, meaning those who stayed behind. The first wants things to advance at their own pace, as you said. The second wants to change things fast, no matter the means. We call them Renegades. Luckily, they're not many. They use our knowledge about the future to influence your Realm. Kill Hitler before he's born, etcetera."
"Who's Hitler?"
Eliza had an answer ready because she already had similar conversations with a few locals.
"An Austrian of common birth who became Emperor and killed millions of Jews and other people by poisoning them. There was a big war to take him down in which tens of millions died."
"Bleep me... Oh!"
"Good. Now you understand what bleep is for."
"It's not fair..." Tristan puckered. "A man needs to swear."
"No, they don't. This is macho thinking. Toxic masculinity at its worst."
"But you're bleeping too, gracious mistress."
"I'm allowed, because... I say so. And you can call me Eliza, by the way."
She offered a handshake that Tristan accepted hesitantly. "Not Erzsebeth?"
"Erzsebeth's a pseudonym I chose because it fits my Vampire class. And I'm not really a Countess either."
"What's a class?"
"An artificial structure that ensures our powers are formed by our preferences, and evolve accordingly."
"You mean you choose to be a Vampire?"
"Yep."
"Wow..." Tristan gasped.
"The options were limited. Vampire, Dancer, and Assassin. I didn't like the last; I already know how to dance, and Vampire is supposed to come with good health."
"And Mister Sam? What class did he choose?"
"Samuel picked Samurai. Makes a good pun. Samurai Sam, or Sam the Samurai," she smiled, because despite leaving her, she couldn't deny Sam was fun. "Do you know what a Samurai is?"
"Yes, the knights of Nihon."
"Not bad," Eliza said. "You're smarter than I thought."
"I did six years in a Jesuit school. Are Vampires common on Earth?"
"Only in fantasy novels."
"Then why impose this curse on yourself?"
"You mean Vampires are cursed?"
"They're excomunicated," Tristan whispered, crossing himself. "I hope I'll find a way to redeem myself," he grimaced.
"Why are they excomunicated?"
"They're a centuries-old secret society that opposes the true church. No one knows much about them. You seem to know more about them than we do. You're sure there are no Vampires on Earth?"
"Earth has no magic, I've told you."
"But I fought your mages. How is it possible?"
"Use your brain. Mana is stable here, right? It interacts with anything, and first of all, life and sentience. Ten percent of the Outworlders who came here developed powers. Most of them, First Order."
"That's natural. First Order is the most numerous."
"Not quite so. The Null Order is."
"Ah... Yes, indeed."
"Null Order, Mana flows through you, and you have no powers to speak of," Eliza started reciting. "First Order, you can enhance your body with Mana and apply magic damage to your physical attacks. Second Order, you can project your magic at a distance. Third Order, you can use advanced magic, but mostly for utility. Healing, enchanting, etcetera. Am I right?"
"You are, gracious mistress."
"Eliza"
"Milady Eliza. Yet..." The young man paused, biting his lower lip.
"Speak your mind," she encouraged him.
"I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, but... the magic you bestowed onto me... It's..."
"Not something you are familiar with?"
Tristan nodded. "I'm a First Order, and received a skill from the Third. And there's also these... floating words... I had no idea Vampires were supposed to see blue texts."
Eliza pursed her lips. Her decision was made quickly. There was no other choice but to tell him the truth, because the youngster would figure it out anyway.
"That's because you're a Fourth Order. This is a secret, and you're not permitted to reveal it to anyone."
"How is this possible?"
"This... Interface we use—"
"You mean the Fourth Order?"
"Yes. Official name: Interface; nickname, for cultural reasons, the System. It's man-made. Our scientists developed a nanite shot... a potion which confers magical powers."
"There's no such thing as a potion granting powers," Tristan said. "It's common knowledge that countless alchemists tried to develop skill-granting elixirs, and they all failed. Legends say Merlin himself couldn't do it."
"Did Merlin have quantum computers?"
"Sorry?"
"Just trust me, it is possible. Let me put it this way. What do you think Mana is?"
"Energy you use for Magic?"
"Yep, sort of. It's both an energy wave and a particle. A tiny one. It binds with almost anything, in huge numbers. A single... do you know what a cell is?"
"I've read about it, yes."
"A single cell can contain more Mana particles than all the people on Earth and Realm combined. Billions. You can't see them; you can only feel their energy field. Now, what we did was to create small artificial cells, we call them nanites, infuse them with Mana particles, and program them to help people develop Magical powers. At first, the Interface installs an app... a magical book that communicates with your brain. Then it helps us unlock skills based on how we perform and the choices we make. It's a gradual process; otherwise, it would not work."
"Will you use it this Fourth Order to conquer Austria?" Tristan asked. "If so, I'd rather kill myself. I'm still an Imperial subject."
"Absolutely not!" Eliza shook her head. "We want to deter other people from trying to conquer us, that's all."
"Yet, an army of Fourth Orders could take over any—"
"There will never be an army, kid."
"I'm not a kid," the young man slapped the table.
Hm... This must be a delicate subject...
"Sorry. Don't worry about armies, Tristan. This potion we're talking about is pricky. It comes in two installments. Almost every Outworlder with magic took the first installment; only a handful tested positive for the second. It's the latter that matters. It's bespoke.
"Also... Think of what Sam and I did. Did we run away? Did we hide? Did we mind our own business? No. We helped. The potion was made by the Protectorates, which is under new management, and will be used for good, not evil. Trust me, you're lucky to have the System."
"System?"
"Told you a few seconds ago. The Interface is the official name of the powers we wield. The System is the nickname, because of cultural reasons."
"May I bring you something else?" A waiter had appeared near the table, a sign that they had overstayed their welcome and were supposed to either order more or leave.
"Check, please. I'll tell you about stats on our way," Eliza said once the waiter left.
"Our way to where?"
"The Town Hall. I need to make a report to the Council and see if there's any news."
"Council?"
"You already know the protectorates are a patchwork of independent polities. We, the Outworlders, have a council that runs our base and the lands around."
"May I go to the barracks instead of coming with you? They have a weaponsmith; maybe he could make my dagger into a spearhead. I received a notification that it does an extra ten little zero up oblique bar little zero down bleeding damage."
"Little zero, what? Ah, you mean percentage?"
"What's that?"
"An extra tenth of bleeding damage, on top of its normal one."
"Why doesn't it say so?"
"Please, try to figure some things out on your own," she sighed. "You're like a three-year-old. I don't have time to explain everything."
"Sorry, gracious mistress," Tristan said, lowering his head.
She barely resisted ruffling his hair before taking the bill from the waiter. "Fine, we'll leave stats for later. Go to the barracks. I'll pick you up when I'm done."