Chapter 28

"Timebloom?" Sister Theresa tapped her lower lip with her forefinger. "The name sounds familiar. I believe I saw something like it in the church library."

"Take me there," Baron said.

As he spoke, his stomach growled loudly at the worst possible moment.

Sister Theresa hid a giggle behind her hand. "It's almost breakfast time. Allow me to prepare something."

"Then after breakfast, you'll take me." The older man's cheeks colored, though he tried to look stern.

...

"Mister L," Sister Theresa said, watching Baron devour his food, "Miss Yalilan and Doctor Rowan from town both say you're a knowledgeable alchemist. To me, though, you're sometimes very much like a child."

"May I take that as a compliment?"

"Of course, sir."

"Won't you eat?" Baron tore a roll in half and offered it to the nun.

Startled, she curved her eyes in a gentle smile and accepted the dark bread with quiet grace, nibbling while she spoke.

"In truth, since last night your reputation has spread from Wiesenmoor Village all the way to Mondra. Last night the mayor wanted to meet you, but Miss Yalilan turned him away, saying you needed rest."

"Baron Cambera heard how you unraveled God's Punishment Fire and is eager to make your acquaintance. This morning he sent flowers and a servant to look after your stay in Mondra... Sheila is the maid who brought them."

Sister Theresa smiled. "The church has never employed maids for nuns or priests. This breakfast was prepared by Sheila at dawn."

Only then did Baron turn his attention to the maid.

She was perhaps fifteen or sixteen, with brown hair in two thick braids and a dusting of freckles that lent her a modest charm.

When she noticed his gaze, her eyes widened and her face flamed. She attempted a clumsy curtsy, nearly shouting, "Sh-Sheila Bete, at your service! The flowers... I dirtied them. I'm terribly sorry. Could you wait two days? I'll be paid then. I'll... I'll..."

"No need."

"But—"

"Haven't the flowers already arrived? I've seen them. Breakfast was delicious, Miss Sheila. Thank you."

He swept his eyes over her, then smiled playfully. The smile made Sheila blush even harder. This young man was nothing like the village boys who tugged her braids; he was handsome and spoke with courtesy.

Miss Sheila... she was only a maid. The village boys called her "bumpkin," and that oaf Arno was always yanking her braids...

Baron polished off the food, wiped his mouth on the napkin Sheila handed him, and said, "Sister, take me to the library."

Sister Theresa smiled. "Miss Sheila, the rest is yours to clear."

Sheila bobbed her head eagerly.

...

In the inner library of the Crimson Cathedral, Theresa excused herself to fetch the key from the priest.

The same corpulent priest from the night before opened the door. His gaze slid over Baron and Theresa, lingering on the nun with undisguised lust.

After Theresa explained, the priest coughed. "Theresa, you know the library is normally open only to clergy..."

Gently, she replied, "Mister L is a guest under Miss Yalilan's protection."

"Ah, that does make things difficult. How about this, Theresa—come to my room for a morning meeting. We can discuss the matter..."

He stretched a greasy hand toward Theresa, but it landed on Baron's arm.

Both priest and nun stared in surprise.

Baron stood between them, studying the bewildered priest. A sudden, uncontrollable urge rose in him—smack the man.

He did. The slap sent the priest spinning two and a half times before he collapsed.

Clutching his scarlet cheek, the priest stammered "You... you..." and fainted.

Baron shrugged at the nun. "Sorry. Felt like hitting him. Forgive me, Sister?"

Sister Theresa shot him a reproachful look, yet closed her eyes and prayed for forgiveness for his violence.

Baron pushed open the priest's room and tossed the man onto the bed. The sheets were in disarray; a nun's habit lay crumpled on the floor, and a corner of the Blood Bible was damp with an unidentifiable stain.

Baron glanced at Sister Theresa, but she seemed to notice nothing. She retrieved the library key from a drawer and led him out.

...

In the library, they parted ways.

Theresa hunted for the volume that mentioned Timebloom, while Baron browsed the shelves, seeking to learn more about this world.

He skimmed fragments—Prol Geography, The Founding of Empire, Continental History, and especially a blue-bound travelogue titled Fen's Notes: Ford City Edition.

Gradually, a clearer picture formed.

As he had guessed, Prol's professions closely resembled those of the Inside.

The world was ruled by something called the Golden Law—absolute rules older than the word "rule."

Rules themselves were divided by even older divisions:

First Laws—Nature, War, Time, Death—grand concepts reflecting parts of the world, wielded only by the gods above.

From these sprang, or were granted, the Second Laws: Sorrow, Oblivion, Elves, Giants, Dwarves, Druids... destinies still vast compared to single things.

The Old-Blood—or enforcers—held the Third Laws derived from Second Law rules. Named "Professional Laws," "Artificial Laws," or "Fate's Gifts."

Known Professional Laws included Wizard, Knight, demon-hunter, Saint...

The Wizard Law, for instance, branched from the Second Law Druid.

Each profession had factions and categories; different organizations held one-third of their profession's Law Fragment, ensuring at least one Gold rank.

According to Lawrence, Gold was the apex of each profession.

No more than three Golds of one profession could exist at once, because the Rule of Three decreed only three fragments, no matter how shattered.

Whoever held one of those three fragments, recognized by the Law, became that profession's Gold rank.

Knights, Wizards, demon-hunters—no exception.

Ranks, too, climbed from Black Iron to Bronze to Silver to Gold; Professional Laws were still called Third Laws.

On Prol continent every knight was a contract knight; the Templars unique to the Inside's Holy Cross did not exist here.

demon-hunters, however, were unchanged—Silver-path and Beast-path.

So, too, Wizards.

Two professional systems so alike, yet set in utterly different worlds. Baron suspected a deeper connection.

Prol continent took its name from the ancient dragon god Prol, one of the seven who sealed the Great Lord and the first emperor of the land.

He governed the Second Law Emperor and Second Law Dragon.

After the dragon god vanished, dragons, elves, giants, and other races declined; humanity rose, kings contended.

Five thousand years ago King Ferdinand of the East rode dragon soldiers across the straits, uniting most of Prol. He built his capital in what is now Gillian Duchy, founding the Dragon Empire.

Historians called it the War of Conquest.

King Ferdinand became the Dragon Emperor.

Five centuries later the empire tottered; warlords raised banners and blood soaked every river.

Another five hundred years, a frail youth returned from Dragon Mountain with vengeance.

He was the first human to master Emperor Law. Leading the unstoppable Golden Lion Legion and Saint Dragons, he united all Prol, including distant Ferdinand.

He exiled giants northward, bound dragons to his service, and made vampire counts kneel.

He forged the Throne of Terror from gold, silver, and copper, and in every conquered city raised towering statues of himself—seated upon the throne, hands on sword, gaze commanding all.

He became the Dread Emperor; historians call him the First Emperor.

He lived a thousand years and was entombed in the palace on Dragon Mountain. The majesty in his bones drew perpetual thunder; only when the mountain itself faded did the storms slowly die over Prol capital.

After his death the empire split. The ambitious lords, long cowed, raised banners, vying to reclaim the First Emperor's glory.

Yet Saint Dragons roared from the capital; a new emperor was crowned. The Golden Lions awoke, and war raged until the vast empire fractured into seven realms.

From north to south:

The warlike Duchy of Suruka in the far north.

Adjacent, the wizard-realm Palmer, famed for sorcery and alchemy.

Below Palmer, the theocracy and maritime realm of Hywede.

West to east, the knight-kingdom Ameel, bordering both Palmer and Hywede.

Below Ameel, where Baron now stood, the hunter-kingdom Gillian.

Across the sea from Gillian, the island realm of Ferdinand.

And at the heart, the Empire of Prol, surrounded by the others—a balance unchanged for millennia.

The second Prol emperor had created the electoral system still in use: from each great realm the Emperor Law chose an imperial candidate, called an Elector.

Seven in total, they competed in the coronation rite—an elimination contest to decide the next emperor.

Remarkably, in every rite, Ferdinand had produced the most emperors.

Dragon Gods, war, emperors, laws, Holy Dragons, the Golden Lion, the Electors... this world was far more complicated than I had imagined.

Baron slid the tome back onto the shelf, and his gaze snagged on something wedged in the corner of the bookcase: a notebook, thick with dust, clasped shut by a tarnished lock. He pulled it free, wiped away the grime, and clicked the buckle open. The words Traveller's Journal had barely registered when a commotion drifted through the library window.

He snapped the book shut and looked out. Four or five hulking men—dressed like demon-hunters—had cornered the maid, Sheila. Their hands and mouths were anything but respectful.

A boy stepped in front of her, fists swinging, shouting, "You're no heroes—just beasts more contemptible than common bandits!" Each word cost him; the hunters kicked him to the ground again and again.

Nearby, a golden-haired demon-hunter Baron had never seen before sat astride a tall warhorse, watching the scene with icy silence. Yet anyone with eyes could tell the brutes in the yard were his retainers, just like the two long columns of demon-hunters behind him.

Every one of them wore the same iron-caltrop badge over his heart.