Seeker Tempest was confused.

No, that was too simple a word.

Seeker Tempest felt as though her brain had been removed from her skull, dusted off by an ancient keeper of knowledge, gently placed on a marble pedestal in the middle of a large ornately appointed room, and then struck several times in rapid succession by a hammer made entirely of buttocks before being colored a hideous shade of orange and then returned to her skull via her left nostril.

She stared as the Sojourners walked off, and while the younger ones cast backwards glances at her as they went, not one of them turned back. Not one of them stood guard over her.

Of course, with the suborned Kel'Darshein above her, she could hardly be called 'unguarded'.

But, the father, the one who had spoken the most, had also commanded the great Keeper Tree to let her go if she chose to run. It could have been a ploy, a rehearsed set of lines designed to put her at her ease.

And yet, even through her confused brain, she could feel the truth in the young male's words. Why indeed would they attempt something so byzantine as to expend valuable healing reagents on her and turn her loose in order to trap her when they could have just… Not saved her.

Saved her…

She looked down at the stone the boy had thrown her, the one that was in the shape of a nose. The Sentinel's nose.

She remembered again the feel of the stone hands closing around her, the uncaring way they hefted her like a bag of wheat and carried her without thought for her comfort. She remembered the abrasions, the lashing of branches, the slow loss of consciousness under the relentless pounding rhythm of stone feet.

She stared at the stone nose. Reached down to pluck it from the ground. Rolled it around in her fingers. The texture was the same, the color was the same, the appearance was the same.

It had belonged to a Sentinel. To the Sentinel. The one who had captured her and brought her here, to the nearest representatives of Caesar the Conqueror. To, presumably, this strange family of Sojourners, who wielded the Arts and took the coin of Caesar and was apparently resurrecting the old empire…

Only, if what they told her was true, to then be destroyed completely by the very Sojourners who should have commanded their loyalty.

She found herself looking up at the Keeper Tree, the one named…

"Billy, was it?" she asked, the sound of her voice almost startling her. She had spoken more in the past ten minutes than she had in the past two weeks, and her own voice was all but alien to her.

"Yes," the tree said in its strange rustling voice, sounding almost petulant. "Do not try anything funny. I am watching you."

She almost stopped then, hearing the obvious dislike in the Keeper Tree's voice. It would be dangerous. It would reveal one of her clan's closest-kept secrets. It would make her a target and reveal her to any watching eyes, if the Sojourners truly held any shred of guile within them.

But… But she was confused. The Sojourners did not speak like they did in the Histories. They did not act like they did in the Elders' stories. They were not ravening lustful beasts, bound to a mad rush for power and drawing death and suffering behind them in their wake. At least… They didn't look like it.

They looked, for all the world, sitting around a campfire and talking and smiling at one another, like she and her cousins had during their youth. Vibrant and energized and full of life and love for it and each other. And even as she looked, she felt a pang stir in her heart.

A pang she ruthlessly crushed.

"Keeper Tree," she said quietly, and into her words she put the remaining vestiges of her own power, Bolstering them and giving them to the tree as truth and light. "Sprout of Kel'Darshein. I, Seeker Tempest of the Community, daughter of the lineage of Protection, do entreat thee now."

The Keeper Tree did not gasp, because it had no need to breathe, but the rustle of its leaves took on a sudden shocked kind of quality.

"I know these words," Billy said quietly. "Why do I know these words in my root and sap?"

"Because they were given to my ancestors by your ancestor," Seeker Tempest said. "And we were told if we were ever found in dire need, we would need only to speak the words, and your help would be given us if at all possible. This is a secret, passed down from mother to daughter in my clan. And I reveal it now, because I am in dire need. Will you help me?"

"I will not aid you against the Consuls or their family or allies," the tree said instantly and firmly. "But… They have already said you will not be hindered if you wish to leave. And they have already invited you to dine with them, or to fill your ration pack if you wish to make a journey. Well," the tree added a second later, sounding a bit sheepish. "They didn't say that, but I am fairly certain they would have if it had occurred to them."

"Yes, I know," Seeker Tempest said, sneaking another look at the family, now eating something from bowls as they sat around the campfire. Whatever they were eating smelled…

Focus.

"I do not require your help with any of that," she said as firmly as she could.

"Then what?"

"I require… Truth," she said, glancing at the family again.

"Oh that? That's easy."

* * *

Matt stood off to the side, against one of Billy's many trunks, and watched his family eat their leftover Frankensoup. It smelled good, and his belly certainly thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to join them after a hard morning's work. But before he did, he needed to have a little chat with a sword.

"She was terrified of us," he said, keeping his voice low and pitched so only the sword on his hip would be able to hear. "Terrified of us, and pissed beyond measure at you."

"Yes," Toraline said, her voice buzzing against his hip. "She is of Conveyance. Though not bonded to the system itself as a Sojourner or even one of their servants would be."

"Your last master, the one you keep calling 'Mighty Caesar', he waged war against the other two systems, right? Tried to take over the world?"

"He attempted, as all Sojourners had done, to unite the world under his banner, yes."

"But there was something different about how he did it, wasn't there?"

The sword was silent for a long moment, and he could almost feel the wheels turning in the fairy-turned-blade's brain. And he could absolutely feel the discomfort there.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"What brings you to that conclusion?"

"Because if the world really has seen Sojourners since the beginning, then it would have been used to them. And the people who live here would have understood that it's all a kind of cycle. Right? They might not like it, but they would have been used to it. But this? The elf? That's hate. Hate and fear so deep that even however long it's been since Caesar was killed, it still exists among the ancestors of the people he fought against."

Matt reached down and drew Toraline from the loop on his belt, holding the blade up in front of his face and giving it his best Stern Dad face.

"So," he repeated, locking his eyes about half-way up blade's surface. "I'll ask again. Caesar was different, wasn't he."

"Yes," the sword said finally.

"Explain."

"Caesar Gaius Secundus came to Seroco a military man already. Most Sojourners have to be trained when they arrive in this world. That is my tribe's function. It always has been. But Caesar… He was already a veteran of the wars on his world. He understood tactics, logistics, the vagaries of troop movements and the requirements of long campaigns."

"He was probably an officer in the Roman legions then," Matt said thoughtfully. "They were some of the most powerful military figures back on my world."

"Indeed. So when he took up the banner of the System, he did so… Effectively. And ruthlessly. He won battle after battle, first against smaller enemies and monster encampments, then larger and larger, until he had legions under his command and the world quaked before him. He was the first Sojourner, since the beginning of Seroco, who might have actually finally unified the world and brought peace to the trinary systems."

"You've told me this story before. The other two systems banded against you to keep your New Rome from taking over the world. But that doesn't explain why an elf hundreds of years removed from that war still fears and hates everything about New Rome."

"I do not possess telepathic abilities, Consul. I cannot tell you what goes on in the mind of–"

"What's a 'rendering facility'?"

The sword buzzed in Matt's grip, hard enough that if he hadn't already had a white-knuckle grip on the hilt, he would have dropped her.

"Toraline? What's a 'rendering facility', and why is it something that caused a scared and hungry elf girl to as me for a quick death rather than be sent to one?"

More silence, followed by a deep sigh and a feeling from the blade like a letting go of something.

"The might of New Rome came not just from its Legions, but from the system Arts Mighty Caesar granted to them. As I mentioned, true Arts can only be utilized by Sojourners… Or by those to whom they grant the power through the System. But for each person granted an Art, there is a tradeoff. A single man, wielding the Arts of a System, is nigh unto a god. Two men wielding the Arts of a System will be as half a god each, their abilities diminished because of the need for the System to now split its power between them.

"It is a balancing game, and always has been. How to distribute the most amount of power, but still maintain effectiveness. More power flowing into the System will, of course, allow for more power to be distributed, and more Arts to be wielded effectively. You have seen it in the slaying of monsters, in the completing of quests and works. And in the simple day-to-day of existence.

"Mighty Caesar… He granted all of his legionnaires at least one Art, based upon their rank and designation. In order to maintain effectiveness, the System required a steady stream of power."

Matt felt his blood run cold, and he closed his eyes against the horror rising up in his chest. An ancient Roman conqueror, placed on a world where he needed to power his legions through slaughter…

"In our world, Rome collapsed under its own weight, under the corruption of its officials and the rebellion of the provinces it had enslaved to feed its rotten heart," Matt said, eyes still closed. "Back on Earth, Rome required food, money, and slaves. And it took all of those from the peoples it enslaved in its wars."

Eyes opened up and looked at the sword, and he couldn't keep a deep feeling of sadness from washing over him. It was the same thing all over again.

"How bad was it," he asked.

"Mighty Caesar was fighting a war. He was–"

"Toraline."

The sword went silent.

"What were the Rendering Facilities?"

Silence.

"You… Are aware, how when you slay a monster, their energy is released."

"Yes."

"Before the death of the system, the system took a tithe of any energy released within its borders. Mighty Caesar… Discovered, that if a creature was slain not by one connected to the system, but by happenstance, then all of the energy was harvested by the system."

Matt felt the yawning abyss of horror open up beneath his feet.

"At first, it was only captured soldiers. Those who had thrown in their lot against us. But Mighty Caesar could not be assured of enough prisoners from every battle, so he…" The sword buzzed. "He began to utilize the non-combatants who were loyal to his enemies."

"Non-combatants."

"Yes. Those who were declared enemies of New Rome but had not taken up arms against–"

"Meaning," Matt said through a dry mouth, "civilians."

"Mighty Caesar fought to unite–"

"Men and women?"

"…Yes."

"The old and infirm?"

"Yes."

"…Children?"

The sword did not answer.

The images rose in Matt's mind, and he swore and wrenched his head to the side, casting them away as soon as they appeared. His breath was ragged in his throat, and he felt tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

A lot of things suddenly made sense now, Matt reflected as the horror seeped through him. An unprecedented empire, waging unlimited war across the face of a world. Two age-old opponents joining forces, not through jealousy or for mutual defense, but out of sheer outrage and shock at what Caesar had done to each of them, and to the people under their banners.

"How in the hell do you justify that," he whispered.

"Those who were not under Caesar's banner were against it. Mighty Caesar fought to unite the world under his rule, to bring the system of Consolidation to the forefront. He fought to see Seroco brought together as one. It would have been glorious. An end to all wars and conflicts."

"Bought with the blood of millions," Matt said, feeling wrung out. "And you defend his choice."

"My clan was tasked with guiding the Sojourners in their endeavors. It was not given to us to approve of disapprove, merely to be loyal."

"'Just following orders', huh?" Matt whispered. He shook his head. "I don't even know what to say. No wonder the elf is scared of us, if that's the legacy of the last guy. My God."

"Consul Matthew, I–"

"Stop," Matt said, looking down at the sword with anger for the first time. "Just… stop. I don't even know what to do with this. Where to go with this. This is what you swore allegiance to? That is who you guided, fought alongside, and still bear loyalty to?" Matt took a deep breath and shook his head and set Toraline down on the ground, point-down in the Earth and leaning against Billy. It was better than his original instinct, which was to hurl the sword end-over-end into the river.

"I'm done. We'll talk later, after I've had food and time to think about this. Because right now, I… just can't."

"As you wish, Consul Matthew."

Matt shook his head again and left the sword there, stalking back the short distance to where his family was still sitting around the campfire, chowing down on their makeshift lunch.

He paused at the edge of the clearing and had to take some deep breaths, chasing away the ice from his veins and the quiet screaming in the back of his head.

Dear God in heaven. What had happened to all those people…

Is in the past, he breathed out as the thought forced its way through the swirling in his brain. It can't be changed, only learned from and built up better. Caesar had left his mark on this world.

The Albrights would just have to leave theirs as well.

Right.

He took another breath and strode into the clearing, then froze when he saw the elf was there as well, looking uncomfortable but at least not terrified as she scooped Frankensoup into her mouth with the speed of a jet turbine.

Everyone looked up at him when he approached. Allie frowned at what she saw on his face, but the elf was the first to speak up.

"Hello," she said in that strange brogue. "My name is Seeker Tempest, and your tree says you are good people. I am praying that that is true, and I apologize for speaking ill of you earlier. I was… Afraid."

"Hello Seeker Tempest," Matt said, coming forward and offering his hand to her. "My name is Matthew Albright. And I very much understand why you would be." He sighed and sat down on the log next to Allie, who was still looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll tell you later," he said quietly. "In the meantime," he said in a louder voice to the elf, "Please enjoy our hospitality as long as you want. I promise you, nothing bad is going to happen to you here."

Or ever again, the promise rose from within him like an ancient leviathan, echoing another ancient oath from another world.

Never again.

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