Two days later, Grayson was standing beside Mertaba looking through a scrying mirror. It was an intriguing use of light magic. The people of Grayson’s new home called it an eye. Grayson thought of it as an application of laser communications or fiber optics. Light travelled through intervening space and was replicated on the plane of choice. In this case a mirror built for the purpose.

  On the other side of the mirror were the prisoners from the Muric Empire. They were chained in an uncomfortable half-crouch as they were interrogated. It was an almost artful way of not torturing someone. The chains were looped directly under them through a series of rings, making sitting down an extremely unpleasant prospect. However they were also too short to allow the men to stand fully. It forced people to squat for as long as they could, but got progressively more unpleasant as interrogation continued.

  This session was in its third hour and the prisoners were struggling to keep their position. The interrogator had loosened their chains after some helpful answers, letting them stand for a few minutes before pulling them back down when they next lied. Grayson, Mertaba, and a knight captain called Namber were watching the interrogation.

  “Why don’t the Gods just tell us what’s going on?” asked Grayson. Captain Namber snorted, but Mertaba answered.

  “They have rules that they have to follow. Their involvement with us is normally quite limited aside from speaking on their own aspects. Our Lady may preside over a thousand courts, but would not warn a ship's captain about an impending storm. Many believe it's because the Gods wish us to be able to think and act for ourselves instead of depending on their words.” Mertaba explained. Namber snorted again.

  “For a Goddess of Justice, Perimis doesn’t help people find it much. Shouldn’t she be more willing to help us catch murderers and thieves?” the man asked angrily. Mertaba looked at him sadly.

  “And if we depended on her to gather evidence for crimes she cares for, how would we know how to gather evidence for other crimes?” Mertaba asked. “If a man is forced to steal out of starvation and steals from a rich merchant, a crime is committed under the law, but Lady Perimis doesn’t care. She factors necessity into her decision making.”

  “But what’s the excuse for murders?” Namber asked, though some of his anger had settled. Mertaba looked at Grayson and nodded.

  “Vengeance is an ugly form of justice. Sometimes a life for a life is warranted. In those cases, a man who takes matters into his own hands has broken a law, but is blameless in the eyes of our Lady.” Grayson said. Mertaba smiled. Namber was still angry, but accepted the answer.

  “And that’s why you asked that we not torture these two? Despite what they would have done?” Namber asked.

  “Would have, but didn’t. They haven’t committed a crime worthy of torture.” Grayson said.

  “Only because you stopped them,” griped Namber.

  “We’ve been over this,” said Mertaba interrupting the argument before it started again. Both he and Grayson understood Namber’s anger. He’d been driven through the knight orders after several friends he’d made in the local village had been taken by Muric bandits. Having them here but unable to harm them grated on the man.

  Namber grunted and turned back to the two men in their half crouch.

  “So the danger has passed for the time being? Everyone who will be taken probably has? Everyone who will be saved has been saved?” the man asked bleakly.

  “It appears so. Their caravans are crossing the mountains and their winds are treacherous for the pegasi. Grayson here might be able to protect his mount, but those without wind magic would struggle and any attempt at rescue on a narrow mountain path is more likely to cause a wagon to tumble into a crevasse and kill all inside than it is to save anyone” Mertaba explained sadly. Grayson and Namber were both frowning at that. It was not the first time Grayson had been given this explanation.

  The tallies had come from all the villages patrolled by the knights of Gravistone. No fewer than thirteen villages had been raided. Only two caravans had been located and destroyed before reaching the safety of the mountains. Namber looked up in surprise to hear Grayson was the one grinding his teeth. After a moment he burst.

  “If I wasn’t sent back to that village as a test-” he started, but Mertaba cut him off.

  “Another family would have been taken, Grayson. And you wouldn’t have arrived in time to save anyone elsewhere along the border. The raids happened weeks ago. At the same time as the one you prevented. When you started flying out, they were already in the foothills. It would have taken you a week to get there and by then they would have been long gone.” Mertaba sighed.

  “The knights were already a week too late when they arrived,” Namber grumbled. “Don’t blame yourself, kid. You did as well as anyone could have expected for a rookie.”

  Grayson managed to restrain himself from blurting out his actual age in his anger. He’d managed to keep that largely a secret.

  “Be fair, Captain. He did better than anyone could expect a Crusader could for their first assignment.” Mertaba chuckled. “Though I suppose it’s only to be expected, given what he is.”

  “And what’s that?” asked Namber curiously. He’d seen Grayson jog through the knights compound to train at the temple of Marrati a few times, but never spoken to him or the knights who’d talked with him before.

  “I’m barely human at this point,” Grayson sighed. He wasn’t happy with the idea, but it was accurate more or less.”

  “Except where it counts,” Mertaba interrupted, poking him in the forehead. Namber was eyeing him suspiciously.

  “So what are you then?” he asked.

  “Human, but barely. I’m the one from another world… Grayson of the Lost World is my official name now I suppose.” Mertaba sighed at the resigned tone in Grayson’s voice.

  “‘Human, but more’ I’d put it,” said Mertaba. “You’ve got better vision than anyone, can see mana, can channel multiple gods, faster than anything I’ve seen, stronger than an elrid. You’re so reticent about it all, nobody would believe a word of it if they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes.”

  “Look, for most of my last… few… years, I had to make sure nobody could find out about it,” Grayson started, pausing as he almost let slip he’d been travelling for over five decades. “As a time traveller, one of the important things I had to do was make sure nobody found out, which meant nobody finding out about incredible sight, speed, reflexes, strength, etc.”

  “Which means you aren’t big on talking about your strengths,” Namber reasoned. “Humble without being humble, you sly boy.” He and Mertaba chuckled for a moment at the look of consternation on Grayson’s face.

  “So how did you explain being almost impossible to wound? When you talk about slavers and bandits, you get a look in your eyes. You hate slavers. I’d say you hate them even more than Namber.” This got a sharp look from Namber. Mertaba continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

  “Slavery is a terrible fate, to be sure. Those kidnapped usually have rights only as property. Killing one is arson instead of murder, and harming one is considered the same as breaking a wheel on a cart. Captain Namber’s seen some of the rescued slaves. He’s interviewed them, trying to find his family. There’s trauma there, but few scars. Usually only from beatings earned through misbehaviour. But you? What have you seen in your travels, Grayson?” Mertaba asked.

  Namber looked over, disregarding the interrogation. Grayson turned and walked over to the drinks cabinet. He couldn’t get drunk off of the alcohol inside it, but right now he felt the need for some catharsis. He poured three drinks, picking one up and leaving the others on the table. Neither of the other men came over to collect.

  Grayson came back and stared into the mirror at the two men being interrogated. In that moment, Namber saw his eyes and decided not to dispute Mertaba’s claim that Grayson hated slavers more than him. They both gave him the time to answer. Eventually, Grayson spoke.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “It was their own people who captured them. They ran them down like dogs, kept them in cages in the sun waiting for the ships…” Grayson told the long, bloody story of how slaves in the ancient colonial empires were treated. He told the story of the ships, the farms, the punishments, and how they could be earned for things as simple as eye contact. He drank his drink, then the second and third glasses. The others didn’t interrupt him as he told that story, then he took a deep breath and started another.

  “It had been going on for almost one hundred years when the hub fleet arrived. Reports from that system were good. Most of the people seemed happy, high quality of life. When people went to inspect, it seemed to be the case.” And this had been true right up until a block of the capital city had collapsed.

  The planet had been called Orion, though it’s system wasn’t one in the famous constellation. The people who colonized the system named all the planets after constellations. Their cities were twinned with a slave city, built underneath the main city. Almost half the population lived in squalid darkness, chewed on by vermin, hunted by vicious underground predators, and tortured frequently. Most of the population had no idea. They were similar to the city folk of old Earth to whom pork came from shopping markets and pigs were cute tubby things that went “oink”.

  Grayson had desperately wanted to join one of the combat teams for the liberation after seeing how they were treated. Their guards allowed no disobedience. People were most often beaten simply as an example. Another traveller that Grayson had met had also pointed out that “weakened people struggle to rebel”. When one of the capital city blocks had crashed through into the sub-city, Grayson had believed that this was when it was due to end. He’d come to that point specifically because that was the time of the first slave reports.

  Instead, the main population had simply dismissed them. Hundreds of millions of people had written off hundreds of millions more as lower beings destined to toil for their luxury. Information around the colony had included several fictional literature pieces that included a similar premise. There had been dry notes that this only proved that cynicism about humanity was deserved, with the hopeful addition that this wasn’t the normal state for people. That most people would react the way Grayson did.

  And oh boy had the Hub reacted. There was a mobilization only exceeded by interstellar wars. A full planetary invasion force had been mustered, landed, and conquered. There was no surrender, no negotiation. Resistance was swept aside. When the panicked leadership tried to cover up their horrors by flooding a slave city with biochemical gas, the Hub fleet had responded by flattening the city. No evacuation warning was given.

  Grayson continued the story with grim satisfaction, not seeing the horrified looks on Mertaba and Namber’s faces. Grayson had watched the chemical weapons doing their work in the tunnels. Then been forcibly extracted by the time machine that had been preset with the point that most time travellers had chosen to watch the bombardment from. Grayson hadn’t set it himself. It was simply the most common reaction.

  In the end, most of the people on the surface survived, excepting those from the destroyed city. Their military had folded like tissue paper under threat from destroyers hovering over their bases. Their leadership was rounded up, then executed. The human empire had almost never simply executed people. This had been considered a special occasion, taught in school millennia later.

  There was a long silence. The mirror, neglected for all of Grayson’s story, dimmed and returned to reflecting the room. Namber spoke first.

  “Yeah, I can see why.” His voice came out as a hoarse whisper. He coughed to clear his throat. Mertaba cleared his throat as well before speaking.

  “There’s more that you haven’t told too isn’t there? Not necessarily slavers, but other things you saw while travelling.” he said. Grayson nodded silently.

  “What the hell did you do that to yourself for?” Asked Namber. Grayson shrugged.

  “I wanted to be there... Because sometimes a presence is all the reassurance we can give to the dead that their story is remembered.” Grayson had been speaking in a purely even tone. The tone of someone who could hide their pain very well when they chose to. His voice had cracked at the end.

  He left the room. Namber and Mertaba stayed behind, discussing his revelations. Grayson didn’t particularly care. Instead he went to find Mink. Minutes later he was in the air over the city, not going anywhere in particular.

  We’re gonna be fucking over the guys who sent those two aren’t we?

  Yup.

  Even if they have backing from a god or something?

  Damn straight.

  I don’t have glands anymore. Are you gonna be okay?

  Nice picking which emotions to feel?

  It’s more like I pick how much emotion I feel. I know why we didn’t decide to reduce the response, but we aren’t fighting the ancient slaving cultures of Earth or Orion. We’re gonna be fighting the Muric empire. As much as they deserve hatred, they don’t deserve what you want to do to them right now.

  I know, I know. But feeling the pain any less is an insult to the slaves of Orion.

  But is it worth it if it makes us the mass murderers of the Muric Empire?

  No.

  So just this once, for this war, tone it back. Don’t stop yourself from feeling it. Just cap off the rage… Unless they need it.

  I knew you were feeling it too.

  You calmed down. Now it’s my turn to be pissed off.

  Grayson laughed, banking Mink to bring him back to the temple of Perimis.

  We aren’t ready for this.

  Nope, but what are we going to do to practice? Find the strongest people in the empire to train with them?

  Not a bad idea.

  Grayson and Queuecy continued to bounce ideas off of each other as they returned to the temple. It was late afternoon when they arrived and Fera had finished what she’d been doing and been waiting for them. Grayson silenced her worries with a kiss and took her out into the city.

  The next morning, Grayson was standing in Mertaba’s office again.

  “Let me get this straight… You want to practice fighting stronger opponents than you had available here. Part of the reason you don’t have stronger opponents available here is because you beat the root avatar of Bolan and think testing that by going and hunting beasts is wrong. Aside from that, you’ve trained against pretty much every Crusader of Marrati as well as a few of Her priests.”

  “That about sums it up, yeah.” Grayson was standing across Mertaba’s desk. Mertaba shook his head.

  “Then you’ll need to head to the capital. Mayfair is a few weeks flight to the Southeast.” Mertaba stood up and walked over to a cabinet, pulling out maps until he found the one he had been looking for. He unrolled the map and held it open for Grayson to see. It would indeed be several thousand leagues as the capital city was down in what would have been Northern Italy on Earth. Mertaba looked up at Grayson.

  “You’ve done well here. Nobody would guess you’d been in this world only three weeks. I’ll be sad to see you go, but guess I’ll be seeing you again before too long. Perimis has been more vocal recently. She’s been riling us up against the Muric Empire. We may be going to war with them soon, which is probably at least partially your doing.”

  Grayson opened his mouth to say something, but Mertaba cut him off.

  “No, Grayson. This has been a long time coming. We’ve only tolerated it for this long because we weren’t sure the risk was worth it. They have fantastic natural defenses in the mountains so any invasion would be struck with supply line issues. Furthermore, they know those mountains better than us which puts us at a significant disadvantage. But we’ve lost patience. This spring’s raid was the worst in a long time. More raiders, more caravans, more towns hit and over three thousand people taken.”

  Mertaba stood up from his desk and came around to put a hand on Grayson’s shoulder.

  “In a way you came at the perfect time. We’ve got a viable path to victory, a new secret weapon, and a galvanized population. You’ll be part of this, and when it’s over the world will be a better place.” Grayson swallowed.

  “I’ve seen several wars. I’ve never started one before. Or at least been part of starting one. I’ve never been allowed to be part of that calculation.” Grayson shook his head. “No, they need to come down. We need to stop them.”

  “And we will. Here.” Mertaba reached down to the desk and took a sheaf of papers that he passed to Grayson. “Deliver these to the Cathedral of Perimis in Mayfair. You’ll know it when you see it. It’s reports from our Crusaders up here. The Head Crusader will have some inkling of what’s happened up here, but none of the specifics. There will be other reports from the Northern border making their way down there as well. You might meet a few messengers on the way there.” He left the papers in Grayson’s hand before shaking Grayson’s other hand.

  “Our best will be in Mayfair, gathered from across the empire. They’ll be just as eager as you are to train and to cross train with the other churches. Do Gravistone and Perimis proud, Grayson. When can you leave?”

  “I’ll talk it over with Fera. We’ll say goodbye tomorrow, buy provisions, then leave in the morning of the next day. Thanks for everything, Mertaba.”

  “It’s been a pleasure, Grayson. Good luck.”