Chapter Eighty-Three: A Decade Overdue

"We're gonna have to go early, we don't have the resources to wait around."

"Yeah, you might be right."

Tim, Edgar and the other lords were in the command tent, discussing their current situation. The supplies retrieved by Tim had meant they wouldn't run out immediately, but they weren't out of the clear, and had to act soon. After discussing with the other lords, they decided a plan.

"So, we'll leave a small contingency here to look after the sick and direct the auxiliary force. The rest of us will be heading directly for Oros. Once there, Tim will rush in and destroy their defenses. We will then follow behind, and secure the city. We need to take the homes of every member of the elite class, and have soldiers on every main road. We will proceed with the city-wide takeover once the auxiliary force arrives. Specifics will be decided once we're there, everyone go get ready."

With that, the lords that were accompanying the prince went to prepare their troops for the journey, and Edgar turned to Tim.

"We're going to need you to stay longer than expected then." He said. "With the troop presence being low, people will get ideas, and we'll need the support until it dies down. We'll also be needing Meg to come along, we need someone who understands magic in case they have any tricks."

"That's fine, on one condition."

"...And what's that?"

"You have to tell Meg we're going early."

"..."

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Constans sat in his room, head in his hands. The room was bare aside from the essentials, and had been the entirety of his stay there. He had been spending a lot of time thinking recently, of his past, and his future, which he was now certain would be short.

Pulling himself up from the side of his bed, he slowly left his room, and made his way to the study of the palace. Once there, he didn't bother knocking, and walked in.

"Hmm? Ah, Constans, what's the problem?" Richard asked with a smile.

Constans stared at the man, a resigned gloominess about him. "How can you be so happy?" He asked after a moment.

"Because my little plan worked!" Richard responded. "Their army has been slowed down, and my little project has been completed. Hell, we even managed to finish development on another little thing I had going, they won't know what hit them."

Constans looked at him with disbelief. "After all that's happened, you still think you have a chance?"

"Of course. If there's one thing my world excelled at Constans, it's murder. And this world is brilliant at understanding concepts and developing uses for them! In such a short amount of time we've got gunpowder, chemical weapons, incendiaries and the highest application of the motor effect under our control."

"I'm amazed the people haven't revolted at your use of magic."

"Please, Constans... The people here worship the gods to the point where they will even disagree with them out of their twisted sense of self-importance. Such people have no wills of their own, they exist to be told what is or is not true. It's simply a matter of emotion."

"Their sole objection was to the use of magic."

"There is no ideology that is not hypocritical, for that is what makes it an ideology. Otherwise it would just be an opinion."

Constans looked at the man he had once called his friend. He thought of a million things he wanted to say, but in the end, just sighed, and turned to leave.

"I'm going to be heading towards the Western installation, do you want to come?" Richard asked, and Constans came to a halt.

"No." He said without turning. "I'm going to try and make peace with myself over the actions I've overlooked, in the pursuit of a goal that will never come to pass. I suggest you do the same."

Constans left, and Richard watched him go with a little sadness. "Oh well." He said to himself, smirking. "He'll turn around when we're done here. I can't really blame him, I wouldn't believe what we have without seeing it either."

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"I can't believe you dragged me all the way here, I could be helping those sick people back there."

"If by help you mean look at them without any idea what you're doing. Face it, beyond purifying their stuff so it didn't spread you had no way of helping further, and you are nowhere near finding one either."

"Shut up."

Tim and Meg were riding on Holly, who could just about keep up with the marching speed of the army, as they neared the lands surrounding the capital. In front of them was an incline, the hill that formed the edge of the lowlands around the capital.

"You know, I wondered last time..." Meg said. "But there's no way this hill is natural."

"Wouldn't know, it was here before I was. You'd have to ask Abby, and hope she cared enough to pay attention."

"Tim!" A yell came from across the formation, and the pair turned to look. Seeing they were watching, Edgar motioned forward with his hand, indicating he wanted Tim to go ahead.

"Scouting time." Tim said, jumping off the horse. Meg shuffled forward, and after assuring Tim she was fine, he bounded ahead, and up to the hill's crest.

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Glowing eyes stared across the plains surrounding the city from the wall.

"Target sighted sir." The man said, the magic circles in his eyes focusing his vision, and allowing him to see the figure that had just crested the hill. He stood next to Richard, in front of a set of stairs that led up to them. At the bottom was a group of his fellow magic users, set up and ready to transport Tim if need be. Along the wall nearby were troops with rudimentary rifles on their backs, shots already loaded. They stood next to large cannons built into the wall, each with stacks of special cartridges next to them, designed to allow the cannons to aim down without dropping the projectile.

"Good." Richard said, smirking. "Let's show him what our masterpiece of engineering can do."

With a motion of his hand, a group of men nearby prepared to work. Attached to the top of the wall was a new installation, a base that covered almost the full width of the wall's walkway, holding up two long, thick, metal rails. These rails were held together by wooden frame, and overhung the wall's edges by a substantial distance, even requiring additional scaffolding as support on the inner side of the wall. The rails had a small bowl shaped chunk of metal that sat in between them, and could move freely along. On one side of the structure was another set of scaffolding, holding a series of thin stone cylinders that were sandwiched together, each one with lightning circles carved into them, and connected to the metal rail closest to them by a metal bar. The other rail had a bar that led down into the wall, where a groove had been cut to allow it to to move, as gears in the base allowed the entire thing to swivel and tilt to a degree.

"Call it, marksman." Richard said, after a metal ball was dropped into the bucket at the rear end of the rails.

The man with the glowing eyes stared at the man on the hill in the distance, and shouted out.

"2.76 degrees left!"

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"Well that's new..." Tim mused to himself, looking across the plane at the installation on the wall. "There's a bunch of those barrel weapon things... There's Ricky... Who the hell is that guy? Is he looking at me?"

"What do you see Tim?!" Edgar yelled from the bottom of the hill.

Tim turned round to speak to him.

"Well there's this-!"

Tim was cut off, as his upper body was blown into chunks and went sailing into the army below. A thud echoed in the distance as the projectile that had passed through him slammed into the ground behind the army.

Edgar was stunned into silence as he tried to come to terms with how much firepower the enemy had, and Meg sucked air through her teeth in sympathy.

Tim's upper body rematerialised, and he returned to his feet, a confused frown on his face.

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"Direct hit sir. Target destroyed."

"Good man!" Richard yelled happily. "Steel balls enchanted to cut through the air, eliminating air resistance, all while moving over Mach 3. There's not a man in existence that could withstand that."

"Wait... Sir, he got back up!"

"He healed? Well then, let's see how many he's got in him."

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"Must've been that thing..." Tim muttered, looking at the installation on the wall.

"What was that?!" Edgar yelled up.

"Some kind of mounted projectile weapon!" Tim shouted back, not looking away from the wall. Before he got a response, the installation flashed, and for a split second Tim saw an object hurting towards him.

No time to yell out, he brought up his arm across his front, and attempted to strike the object before it hit him. He managed to deflect it up and away somewhat, but the impact obliterated his arm and shoulder. His body had spun round due to force, and he watched the ball fly off into the distance, along with chunks of his body.

"Heh..." Tim let out a chuckle, which evolved into a hearty laughter, and he threw his head back as he did. The people below looked at him in confusion, except for Meg, who simply shook her head to herself.

"ALRIGHT THEN!" He yelled, slamming his hands together. He stretched out his right arm directly in front of him, splayed his fingers, locked his elbow, and grabbed his forearm with his left hand. The people below felt the air grow heavy with power as he let some out in excitement, and Meg could see his body begin to glow.

"Bring it."

A second passed.

Then two.

Tim stared off against the man on the other side of the plane. Not the man who could actually see him, but the one who was calling the shots. In silence he waited.

Then there was a flash.

A moment later, a powerful impact smashed into Tim's hand, the ripple through his arm tore open the flesh, and his upper arm tore through his shoulder. His left arm still grabbing his forearm, his right arm torn and crushed, he stood.

Holding the metal ball.

Tim gave a grin.

"My turn."

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"Bastard wants to challenge me he can go right ahead and bite it, not my fault he's a dumbass."

"Um... Sir?"

"What?" Richard asked, looking at the man.

The man with the glowing eyes didn't answer, he stared open mouthed across the plane for a second.

Then turned around and bolted down the stairs behind them.

"Wha- Why are you-"

Richard was cut off, as the sound of metal slamming into the installation next to him startled him. He turned to see his special new weapon shatter into pieces, the metal bars and shards of wood falling into the crowd of magic users behind them.

"What..?" Richard asked the world as he stared, stunned, at the wreckage. After a moment of shock he turned to look across the plane. He couldn't see much with his human sight, not helped by the dimming light as clouds began to sweep across the sky, but he could make out a dot moving towards them at great speed.

Richard shot a glance down to the magic users at the wall's base, but they were in disarray. A few of them had been hit by the debris, and the circle itself was covered by it.

"CANNONEERS!" He screamed, turning to the soldiers manning the nearby cannons. They hurriedly prepared a shot, and by the time they had finished, Tim had arrived within firing range.

Seeing the cannon jutting out of the wall turn down to point at him, Tim slammed into the ground, stopping himself. With a laugh and a daring grin, he through open his arms and allowed them time to aim.

"TAKE OF HIS FUCKING HEAD!" Richard yelled, and the soldiers obliged.

A boom sounded out and a flash erupted from the cannons muzzle. In the split-second he had, Tim strengthened his body, and jerked his head forward, smashing it into the cannonball, and sending it into the ground in front of him.

Tim let out a gleeful howl, and Richard and the soldiers alike charged down the stairs in fear. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Richard turned to see Tim smirking down at him from atop the wall.

"FIRE!" He yelled, and the soldiers who had escaped to the bottom whipped around their rifles. A chorus of shots rang out, and Tim's body jerked as pieces of flesh were torn from him, his body peppered with metal.

The noise died down, and the men stared fearfully at the figure above. He stood, blood oozing from his wounds as they healed, face to the sky after a bullet shot through his skull.

They watched, as he slowly reached his hand to his chest, and dug it into one of his wounds. He pulled out the shard of metal that had lodged itself in his body, and looked down at it. A soft sound came from his lips, then repeating, before the bloody man erupted into laughter at the top of the wall.

Power dropped on the men below, and they could do nothing but stare at the cackling madman above them, as he appreciated their work. His laughter ceased, and he jerked his head to look at Richard, who shuddered in fear at his gaze.

"You know Richard..." He said, grinning, and enjoying every second. "I really do hate you for what you've done. But I have to admit, it's been a loooooong time since any one mortal man has caused me so much damage."

He grinned smirked down at Richard, who was far from happy at the praise.

"Well?" Tim said after a moment. "You got my letter didn't you? You know what I want you to do." Tim looked down, and for a moment, all of his hatred for the man, his glee at the bloody battle ahead, the joyful rage he felt at being hurt, all of it coalesced into a malicious grin, as dark clouds echoing with thunder drifted over the city.

"Run."

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"Why is there thunder?" Meg asked as she and Edgar marched at the head of the army towards the city.

"I don't know." Edgar said, humoring the woman. "It's the weather, and flash storms happen."

"Yeah but they happen too often." Meg said unhappily. "It happened when he fought that giant thing too, and that was in a desert! Though that could've been the other guy giving him a way out..."

She muttered the latter half, so Edgar didn't hear it. "Well is that one of his abilities, summoning thunderstorms?"

"Don't think so, that was the sea serpent's thing."

"Actually, what are his abilities? I'd very much like to know how he became this powerful, because it doesn't seem in line with what I know of the gods' Representatives."

"Well he got so powerful because he gets stronger whenever he kills someone, he takes their power I guess... Oh..." Meg came to a sudden realisation as she thought on what she had just said. "Oh shit!" She continued down that line of thought, and remembered some of the other things Tim had killed in the past.

"What?" Edgar said, as Meg pulled back on the reigns, bringing Holly to a stop.

"I'm not going there, not until the lightning stops." Meg said resolutely.

"...Why?"

"Because I just realised that the storm actually is him, and I have no intention of wandering into a warzone while he's on the rampage."

"Wait, what did you just work out?" Edgar asked, concerned.

"I'm not telling you. You'll be happier that way."

"...That doesn't inspire confidence."

"If I told you it'd be far worse."

"...I see."

After a moment's thought, Edgar decided that they would wait in the plane nearby until the storm died down before moving forward.

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Tim followed his ethical code. The deserters that came to the invading army had said that everyone in the city was there because they agreed with Richard's plans.

And so every adult he came across with arms or armour had been cut down.

Tim approached the palace now, and as he moved towards the outer wall, he heard a wooden crack in the distance ahead. Looking up, he saw a large projectile moving through the air above, and smirked. He launched from the ground, and as the object reached the apex of its arc, he slammed his hand into it, smashing it towards the palace.

As soon as his hand left the large ball, he took note of the fact that the projectile was in fact, a large round pot. He wondered for a moment whether it was another gas attack.

He didn't ponder long however, as the pot exploded into light almost immediately after he hit it, showering the palace, and splashing Tim, with streams of white hot fire.

Tim fell to the ground, slapping at the burning material and yelling out. Realising that hitting it was doing precisely nothing to help, he instead began to scoop out the effected areas of his body, and fling them away.

Now done looking after himself, Tim looked up, to see the palace ablaze, the white fire having burned through the ceiling and ignited the fabric inside.

"Oops." Tim said with a smirk, and moved forward.

Bursting his way into the palace, Tim stalked the halls as he made his way to the study. He had a feeling that's where he would find his prey. He met a few soldiers along the way, and he murdered them without much thought.

'That guy looked like the one Meg talked to.' He though to himself as he sliced through another one. 'What was his name again..? Eh, doesn't matter.'

Finally, he reached the study. He kicked the door in, and smiled.

Richard had many backup plans, including a transport circle in his study, hidden under a rug. Unfortunately for him, the study was at the front of the palace, and the rug had ignited after the firebomb exploded, burning away the substance forming the magic circle.

No options left, he knelt on the floor, mind and spirit broken, until Tim walked in.

"I did consider tying you up and letting the fire deal with you." Tim said as he approached the distraught man. Richard's despair didn't cure him of his fear though, and he began to back away from Tim, begging him to wait, and spare him.

His words fell on deaf ears.

"But you had a plan, and tried to see it through." Tim said as Richard's back hit his desk. "And you know what? I can respect that."

Richard let out a cry, but Tim didn't care, and dropped his arm.

Corpse before him, war over, and decade long issue solved, Tim nodded at the resolution he felt in his soul.

"Now then..." He said, looking around him at the burning building. "I should probably get out of here."

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Edgar and Meg headed towards the Western gate leading into the city, with the army following behind. The gate had been closed, but was now open, the mechanism by which it was locked shattered into pieces because Tim couldn't be bothered to open it properly. The storm had settled , and they had noticed the gate open, so despite the dark clouds still present in the sky, reflecting the inferno that was the palace, they marched in.

They found Tim sat on a pile of rubble he had collected for a perch just inside the gate, now fully clothed. Edgar instructed the army to move in and secure the key areas as planned, and the three of them moved to the side to discuss what had happened.

"The palace is on fire." Edgar said angrily, implicating Tim.

"Hey now, that wasn't my fault. They launched a thing at me that blew up and set it ablaze, nothing to do with me."

Edgar sighed. "I suppose we'll have to rebuild it regardless. Who knows, maybe it'll work in our favour, somehow..."

Tim then proceeded to list off what had happened to Edgar, describing the weapons the enemy had, and where they seemed to be protecting the most. Through all this, Meg stared at him with a complicated expression.

"...What?" Tim asked her, having finished discussing with Edgar.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." She said, and looked away. Tim obviously didn't believe her, but thought it probably had something to do with the utter massacre he just perpetrated, and didn't press further.

Shortly after, a soldier came to deliver news to Edgar. "Your Majesty... It's a mess, sir."

"Is there any resistance?"

"No sir, the civilians... They're happy to see us."

"...What?"

"They're begging us for help sir. One of them was rambling about judgement for their sins."

Edgar and Meg stopped, and turned to Tim with horror.

"...What?"

"What did you do?" Meg asked him.

"Exactly what I always do. Why?"

Meg thought back to his behavior when she had previously seen him in a battle he enjoyed.

"Yeah, alright." She said, understanding the citizens reactions.

"Other than that..." Edgar said slowly, perturbed by the interaction. "Is everything going well?"

"Better than expected sir."

"I see. Carry on then."

The soldier saluted, and left. Edgar turned to Tim.

"When this is over, I will pray to every single god that I never see you again."

"That's weird, I would've thought after being with me long enough you'd have gone off the gods altogether."

"On the contrary, I will take any action that will in any small measure enable me to have the pleasure of never being in your presence."

"That's harsh dude." Tim said, and turned to Meg for her opinion.

"You're a danger and a menace, Tim."

"Says miss zombie witch..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing..."

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Against expectations, there wasn't any unrest at all after the takeover, and not a single attempt at an uprising occurred. This was probably due to the fact that it took multiple days to clean up the bodies, the soldier hadn't been lying when he called it a mess. Because of this, Edgar tentatively allowed Meg and Tim to leave, on the condition that they carry a transport circle capable of receiving letters with them.

Meg accepted this before Tim had a chance to, and they left for the library. On the way there, they stopped by Riben.  They received a raised eyebrow from Perry, but in the end he said nothing beyond greetings, and they took a seat.

"Meg! Tim!"

"Helen!"

"Hello Helen, it's been a while."

"It certainly has young lady." Helen said, beaming as she looked down at the pair as they drank. Her face then took on a slightly darker expression. "There's been a war since I last saw you both. I wouldn't suppose that's a coincidence?"

"And you would be correct." Tim said.

"I see. Oh well, you're both back and safe, drinks are on me tonight."

"YES."

"For Meg."

"Oh come on."

Meg and Helen chuckled at the man's misery as he sank into his drink, and as the night went on, with Charlie arriving to tell them about his recent jobs, the blacksmith getting into a lengthy conversation with Tim about the weapons he heard tell of from the war, and Jacobson sniping at Tim from a table nearby whenever he could, until Tim forced him to drink himself under the table, Meg felt the worries of the recent days wash away from her.

The problems from the war weren't all solved, and there were still people suffering in the world that she wanted to help. But she was with people she knew, some of which she had problems with, some of which she liked, some of which she didn't know much about, and most being a mixture of the above, and for the first time in a while, she felt happy.