Oberion was 13 when he found out he was part-summoned. It was during a game of hide-and-seek with his friends, where he hid under one of the dressers. He saw it out of the corner of his eye glued to the ceiling of the dresser. A letter containing his core abilities, mana capacity, and prevalence of his powers. He had brought it up to his room that night, reading it over and over again. He was a Summoned, an Akaluma!

When he was 19, he was taken from school and drafted into the fight against the People's party of Keywark. The war eventually came to a close, with the original government overthrown, all royal soldiers were forced to surrender. When they did, they were given the option to leave, or to stay and advance their career upon the newly founded Socialist ideals.

Since his friends had moved on with their lives, his mother has passed while he was on tour (His father had never been in his life), and he had practically no home besides the barracks, he chose to stay.

Oberion would later come to regret that choice.

The first thing he noticed when he joined was how unorganized the military was. There were little to no requirements to join. Secondly, Oberion was deployed to the lowest rank. It took him a few months to prove that he was of higher rank.

Afterward, it seemed like smooth sailing. It was a time of relative peace, at least, until the war with Gavhin.

Afterward, he was promoted to general. Fighting a war, and doing the king’s bidding were two entirely different things.

The king would often try to get Oberion to make horrible tactical decisions, all of which Oberion refused to issue. The king was also slow and was easily frustrated. The king was not a child, rather, a man who simply was too slow in his reaction. This was not to say the king wasn’t a sharp man. He did, after all, secure the throne by funding the people’s party directly, then snatching it for himself, while they figured out how to reconstruct Keywark, with his guiding hand, of course. The man was certainly a master at pulling strings.

Oberion spent little over a decade watching a royal kingdom fall, a socialist nation rise, then an aristocrat seize power. How ironic, he would often think to himself.

But after the war ended, things took a turn for the worst.

The king ordered an assault on Gavhin while they were making a truce. Oberion was unaware of this order until it was too late.

Gahvin, which had hired alchemists to figure out how to damage Keywark in case of emergency. When Keywark launched the unprovoked attack, Gavhin did not hold back.

Since then, the land had never recovered. And since then, Oberion held a grudge against the king.

Oberion paced the halls. Leand and Lyla should have been here this morning, but there was still no sign of them.

Damn those good-for-nothing Akaluma! He thought to himself. He disliked Aldarians , not just because they were disrespectful and arrogant, but also because they could say what they pleased. Corvin openly disrespected the king many times. Oberion’s head would be on a stick if he said half of what came from Corvins mouth.

He hoped for all of their sake that Corvin was at his post, defending the king, like he was supposed to, and not still standing in the king’s private pond.

His thoughts were interrupted by a scout, who came running down the hall to him. His mud encrusted boots tracked all over the velvet carpet.

“Sir! Sir!” The man yelled at Oberion. He looked like he saw a ghost.

“What? Is this important news?” Oberion snapped, not yet addressing the mess.

“I have news, the princess is dead.”

The moisture in Oberion’s throat evaporated.

“W-what?” He croaked.

“Sir-”

“Be quiet, I heard you!” Oberion snapped. A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead.

“Now tell me, how did you come to that conclusion?” Oberion asked, in an artificially calm tone.

“My spyglass, sir. I was scouting the northeast sector of the forest, when I saw an explosion detonate in the sky!”

The man was quiet for a few moments, before he murmured something else.

“The explosion… It looked like a person. It could be just my imagination, sir.”

Oberion took a deep breath. “It didn’t matter what the explosion was, there had to have been an attack. And that still does not explain how you know the princess is dead.”

“Sir, during my scouting, I was approached by our Hero monitor, Glodasc. He told me that two Aldarians perished in the direction of the southwest somewhere. He told me to report the information in case he couldn’t deliver it himself.”

Oberion felt like he was swallowing a large stone. Impossible, he thought. All of the guilds in that area already agreed that they would not attack the princess, plus Aldarians in that area were given bribes to report suspicious activity.

“That doesn’t mean she is dead.” Oberion said quietly. But he knew that she was, most likely dead.

Suddenly, before Oberion could say anything else, yet another scout walked in. She too tracked mud on the clean carpet.

She said nothing when she spotted the other scout. She simply leaned forward and offered a letter to Oberion.

Oberion grabbed the letter. There appeared to be something inside of it that gave it a bulge. On the outside of the letter it read:

For his Majesty, if you recognize this object, then you know what will come next.

Oberion opened the letter immediately. He was not a fan of suspense, and certainly not a time waster.

Inside of the letter, was a small ring with a diamond on it.

It was Zalina’s ring.

“HANG ALL OF THEM!” Calvin Boneh screeched, as he cradled the ring in his palms. “HANG THEM AND THEIR FAMILIES! SLIT THEIR THROATS! NO TRIALS!”

He took a moment to take a raspy breath.

“We will execute all suspects immediately, starting with the witch!” He seethed. Make the execution public!

The guards took a cautious step back from the king as if he would explode at any minute.

Oberion swallowed. “W-when shall I prepare the execution sire?”

Boneh stared at Oberion in blank rage. “Are you deaf?! I said IMMEDIATELY! TODAY! Do you listen? I want you to mobilize troops immediately as well. Send half of the army to the forest!”

“But-”

“SHUT UP! If you weren't my general, I would have you hanged too! Now get out of my sight, fool!”

Oberion grumbled, walking off through the velvet wood doors that separated the throne room from the castle.

No, he thought. It is you who is the fool, old man. Can you not see that whoever these rebels are, are aware of your weaknesses? I will smile when you fall. But until then, I will serve you. But I will serve you, praying for your downfall.

“Corvin!” The king’s gravelly voice echoed through the chamber.

Corvin clasped his hands together. “Yes?”

“Hold down the fort.” Calvin murmured, staring down at the ring in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” Corvin said, trying to sound as authentic as possible.

“Don't be.” Hissed the king. “I know you do not care, but you have a job. Do your damn job!”

Corvin coughed, no longer having to maintain his facade of giving care. “By the way, there was a man earlier who said he was your new advisor. I thought you were going to fire Oberion?”

The king gripped the armrests of his throne so hard, his already pale skin seemed to become even whiter.

“And what did you do?” The king asked, his anger rising.

Corvin shrugged. “I let him in.”

“What was his name?” He asked.

“I dunno. I left his card back in my quarters.”

“Well, go get it then.” He seethed.

Corvin wringed his hands. “Yup, I'll go get it.” He made his way off down the hall. Another servant ran forward into the throne room.

He narrowly avoided Corvin, kneeling at the king's feet. The man was at a low enough social status that he was oblivious to whatever happened in the throne room, perhaps it was even his first time here, the king had never really kept track of those that came and went unless he felt cautious. That would soon change, he silently swore this servant would be the very last of his kind to intrude without clearance.

“Sire, the prisoner is missing. The black witch.”

Calvin flicked his tongue. “Surely cheap hag’s can only fool a fool. She must be invisible, and you must be an idiot.”

The man swallowed. He didn't raise his head, keeping it bowed before King Boneh.

“Sire… We’ve already run an MDP. She is gone, my lord.” The man sank his head lower, like a dog about to receive a beating.

“Damn you! Damn you Corvin! Damn to the Summoned! Damn, damn, damn!” He shrieked this as he shook with rage in his velvet throne. The servant dared not raise his head, for if he did, he may lose it.

Meanwhile Corvin quivered. He had found the card given to him, neat black ink printed on a card no larger than the palm of his hand. Pas A Eruoy, it said.

But when Corvin stood in the mirror, it read:

You're A Sap.