“An organization's ability to learn, and translate that learning into action rapidly, is the ultimate competitive advantage.”

  -Jack Welch, Former CEO of General Electric

  -To War by Jingo-

  -New World, Same Sins: Chapter 3-

  The crisp morning air was heavy with fog and a morning mist. Morning in Praguen dawned grim and cold.

  Below the city slowly began to wake up, but up above the castle was already alive and moving.

  The metallic tang of armored boots striking the floor in crisp clacks echoed through the hallways, as they patrolled, even audible through the heavy door that sealed the throne room.

  Emperor Charles IV slouched on his throne, a slowly withering man kept alive by frustration and ego. The dark wood of the seat groaned under him, creaking as he shifted. His eyes glared down at the three figures dragged before him.

  The so-called “heroes”. Now neither he nor his father had been alive long enough to witness the previous summoning, but he highly suspected that he had drawn subpar candidates.

  A buffoon grinning like a child, a scribe clutching her journal like a lifeline, and a man with a strange stick, a strange hat, and a scowl that could curdle milk.

  Charles coughed, a wet rasp that echoed off the pillars, and waved a hand covered in jeweled rings.

  “Stand forth, ye summoned of the ritual.” He spoke with a voice like gravel. “You have been called to serve my Empire. You will treat that with the respect it deserves.”

  David snapped to attention, chest puffed out. “Your Majesty! Ready to serve, sir!” His voice boomed, bouncing off the walls.

  Elyra flinched, shrinking into her hoodie, the blue gem on her journal winking as she hugged it tighter. Dixie just tipped his cowboy hat, slow and deliberate.

  Charles regarded them with the same uninterested dispassion that you would an ant.

  “So it is.” He proclaimed, his tone lofty, untouched by their mortal clamor. “Listen well, here is your mission. This realm stands on the edge of ruin. In the south, on Genoa’s shores, a disaster has struck. Gnolls, vile spawn of the daemon pits, have destroyed the city. From its ashes, they’ve taken a relic of immense danger. A lost fragment, born from the essence of Aldric, the High Father of old. The Church tells me it has been taken to the place known as Sea Grave, at Ilanor’s farthest reach. You are to travel there, reclaim the fragment from them, and return it to the crown’s safekeeping. This is your purpose, and if you fulfill it you will be rewarded with the wealth of princes.”

  The words landed heavy, and Dixie and Elyra glanced at each other. Dixie’s fingers tapped his musket, his jaw tight as iron.

  David grinned, cracking his knuckles with a pop like breaking bones. “Hell yeah, a quest! AND a plot macguffin! I’ll smash those gnol-a-whats and bring that shiny back, Your Grace!”

  Charles pinched his nose, his first expression of real emotion so far.

  “Do not call the fragment a macguffin. But, your enthusiasm is acknowledged.”

  Charles’s gaze drifted over them. He gestured languidly, and a knight stepped forth with three leather bags. Charles took them, shook once, and let them fall to the floor with a muted thump. Golden Aels spilled, glinting dully in the torchlight.

  “A thousand Aels each.” he declared, each syllable a proclamation. “A sum to outfit you for your duty. Weapons, armor, supplies, as you deem necessary. After this, fifty Aels each month until the solstice, should you survive that long. This is the empire’s provision. Beyond it, you receive nothing, no armies, no ceremonies. The task falls to you and you alone.”

  Dixie’s eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. “So that’s the game. A fancy speech, a sack of coins, and a shove out the door. No men, no maps, just us against your problems.”

  Charles tilted his head, a faint crease in his brow, as if Dixie’s words were a curious breeze.

  “Your assumptions are your own. I do not waste time speculating on the destinies of men.” He replied, his voice lofty and untroubled. “Six times before, this ritual has summoned champions. Some have gone to claim glorious victories, some have fallen to ruin. You are the seventh link in that chain. Shape it as you will.” His fingers tapped the throne’s arm.

  Elyra’s breath hitched. “B-But I read about that region! What you’re asking isn’t just hard. For just three people, that’s… impossible!”

  “Impossible’s for cowards!” David barked, snatching the pouch with a meaty hand. Coins rattled as he hefted it, grinning like a kid with a new toy. “We’ll gear up, charge in, and take it! Easy!” He slapped Dixie’s shoulder, a thud that made the southerner stagger. “Right, man?”

  “Don’t touch me.” Dixie shoved the hand off, and he turned to Charles. “I just think it’s real convenient for you, sending strangers to clean up your mess.”

  Charles’s expression remained a mask of regal indifference. “The throne does not bow to the concerns of those it rules. You are here to fulfill a role, not to challenge its structure. The empire’s burdens are vast, you cannot possibly understand it on any level after only two days. Your part is but a speck in the realm’s expanse. Live or die, truthfully, your fate does not trouble me, only that you succeed in your task.”

  David’s grin flickered, then flared brighter, his bravado roaring back.

  “We’ve got this! Heroes don’t back down!” He laughed as he clapped both of his fellow Heroes on the shoulder.

  Charles raised a hand, dismissing them with a flick of jeweled fingers. “Go. The southern gate lies ahead, and you will find two carts waiting for you. Spend your daylight wiseley to prepare, but do not squander it, for it fades quickly, and you will not be roomed for free here any longer.”

  Knights moved in formation with royal purpose, ushering them out.

  “Save our world, heroes.”

  Charles called out as the heavy door swung shut, but for some strange reason, Dixie didn’t think he was being sincere.

  -To War by Jingo-

  Save the world- that’s what the king dude had said.

  But how do you save the world?

  If you think about it, it was kind of an overwhelming question. It was the whole WORLD, so there was a lot to consider. Luckily, David had been extensively prepared for this exact question through extensive study of fantasy movies, and video games.

  THUNK

  The poor desk clerk, as well as everyone nearby, looked at him with bulging eyes as he dropped a bag full of solid gold coins on the counter of the smithing guild. It was all of the money that the cool King guy had given him to start his quest.

  “I am the legendary hero summoned to save the world! I need the most enchanted sword of destiny and ass kicking that you’ve got, as well as a set of sweet armor!”

  Dvid nodded his head, content that he was a paragon of business transaction.

  “Oh yeah.” He perked up as he remembered. “My friend also needs some little metal marbles. So if you could toss some of those in, that’d be sweet.”

  The clerk looked at him with a hopelessly lost expression, then back down to the bag, then back up at him.

  David winked at her and made finger guns.

  “I.. Uhm…”

  The clerk fumbled for words, before a man in much finer clothing rushed over and shooed her out of the way.

  “Esteemed customer, thank you for choosing our humble guild for your equipment needs!” He said with his face looking at David, while his eyes were glued to the bag with a hungry glint. “Now, allow me to just, ahem, measure your budget here.”

  The man began counting out the gold coins, looking them over to make sure they were authentic, and placing them on a nearby scale. Slowly the bag emptied, and the grin on the man’s face only grew wider with each coin he pulled out.

  “Wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “Ah…” The man winced and made a motion like he was weighing scales with his hands. “Enchantments aren’t cheap, and it becomes more challenging the more you layer on top of each other. The Magisterium charges a premium for such work, and when you add that on top of the cost for quality materials, as well as the craftswork, and the fact this is a rush job… this just isn’t enough, I’m afraid. We can fit you with some of the finest gear, but I am afraid even with this budget only one of them could be enchanted to the extent you mentioned.

  Davil frowned but didn’t protest. Sure, he was the chosen Hero here to save the world, but these people weren’t NPCs, they needed to have money to put bread on the table. Trying to pressure them or guilt trip them into giving him free stuff wouldn’t be very Heroic, even if it would make things a lot easier. Besides, he could always come back with more money he earned.

  “Well, in that case I’ll take the sword enchanted.”

  “And the armor.”

  A second voice cut into the transaction, and dropped another bag of coins next to his own.

  Surprised, David looked to his left to see a hooded woman stepping up next to him. She looked up at him with a mischievous smile, gorgeous red eyes, and familiar silver hair peeking out of the hood.

  David’s eyes widened in recognition, but Princess Isabell raised a slender finger to her lips to shush him.

  “I would be more than happy to contribute if it means helping our Heroes.” She purred.

  -To War by Jingo-

  The early sun climbed into the sky as Dixie and Elyra wandered through the streets of the capital. It was an odd experience, with the city’s verticality forcing them to go over bridges crossing chasms below ground level, weave up and down winding stairwells, and try to make sense of the local incomprehensible maps.

  Elyra had been completely charmed by the city the moment she set eyes on it. It was so exotic and completely unlike anything on Earth, it really was something you could only find in a fantasy world. She would crane her neck, and try to rubberband her head like an owl to stare at anything even vaguely magical that they passed.

  Dixie, meanwhile, was constantly imagining how absolutely horrible it must be to build anything in this place, and wondering how many miles of red tape were wrapped around any building permissions. It was already a nightmare when you only had to deal with neighbors on your horizontal sides, having to work knowing you had a mile of structures either balancing above or below you, sounded liable to lead to a revolting amount of regulations.

  The two drew odd looks from nearly everyone they passed, causing Elyra to shrink down on herself when she wasn’t distracted by everything. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, however, since Dixie was the one that drew the most stares.

  Specifically it was his bluejeans, the “weird spear” on his back, and the gray stetson that was on his head- a wide brimmed cowboy hat made of synthetic leather that he had gotten from his father a long time ago, back before their relationship deteriorated past the point of recovery.

  “You’re so lucky you got pulled here with actual clothing.” Elyra mumbled as she tugged at the itchy local dress that the maids had provided for her. “All I brought with me was my pajamas and my new diary…”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She trailed off, watching as a mage sparked a lantern to life with a flick of his wrist- orange flame dancing to life like a trapped star.

  “Lucky is one of the last words I would ever use to describe myself.” Dixie snorted.

  With enough time to get better at reading the local 2 dimensional maps for a 3 dimensional city, and a little bit of luck, the two managed to eventually find their way to what could loosely be considered the market center of the city.

  Before they went into any shop, or to any of the open air stands, Dixie turned and held out his hand to Elyra.

  “Hand over your bag.”

  “What? Why?”

  “If we pool the money, we can more effectively ration out a percentage for supplies.” He answered bluntly. “If we all buy supplies independently of each other, it’s bound to lead to redundant spending in some areas and shortages in others. Not to mention it’s cheaper to buy in bulk, so we’ll save money buying one large purchase for all three of us, rather than three individual ones.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to have David’s as well, then?”

  “Yes, which is why I’m moderately pissed that he rushed off the moment we stepped outside. All I can hope for is that he doesn’t spend an entire third of our savings on a damn vanity project.” He sighed and pulled out a makeshift clipboard from his coat. “I got a list of things we’re gonna need if we want to survive such a long trip, and we need to be able to afford it all.”

  “Ooh! Can I manage the list! I, uh, I enjoy marking things off.” Elyra admitted bashfully.

  Dixie shrugged and handed over his makeshift clipboard.

  “You ain’t robbing me of any joy in it.”

  Dixie looked around, then marched to a nearby stall, a rickety table groaning under the strain of the man sitting behind it. The vendor, a squat overweight man with a face like a boiled ham, grinned, teeth yellow as piss.

  “You look like some folks hungry for an adventurh! Well ah got just the things you need! Hundred Aels for a baggie!” The lard of a man grinned, gesturing to one of the bundles on his table. Five pelts, fifty feet of rope, a flint striker.

  Dixie laughed, a dry, cutting sound.

  “Hundred? For this patched-up trash? I’d pay thirty back home, and that’s with a smile.” He kicked at the table and a waterskin sloshed, leaking through a seam, and he glared at the man. “Forty, and you’re lucky I’m generous. I don’t like tolerating scammers.”

  “Alright, dat price mighta been a big high, but cut me some slack. Mans gotta eat.” The vendor crossed his arms. “Sixty. This ain’t charity!”

  “Fifty, and I don’t tell every soul here you’re peddling absolute shit.” Dixie leaned in, voice dropping, eyes hard as steel. “Take it, or I’m gone.”

  The vendor cursed, spitting on the ground, but nodded. “Fifty, you bastahd. Good business head, but you're a bastahd.”

  Dixie grinned, flipping him the coins, snagging the bundle. 50 Aels down, gear secured- cheap, functional, his kind of deal.

  Elyra blinked, eyeing Dixie as they walked away.

  “That was… intense.”

  “That’s economics, darlin’. Supply, demand, and a boot on their throat.” He hefted the sack over his shoulder, musket clinking against it, and moved on.

  The crowd parted as they pushed deeper, Elyra trailing, her head still taking the time to swivel at every glowing rune.

  Dixie’s focus locked on a tavern half built into the wall, smoke curling from a pipe, music cheering from inside, and a pack of roughnecks sprawled around it.

  This crowd was a group of twenty-ish mercenaries, armor dented, swords chipped, faces scarred like old leather. Their leader, a grizzled bastard with a gray beard and a missing ear (Kor, Dixie would later learn) sipped from a dented tankard, eyeing Dixie’s approach.

  “Need muscle,” Dixie said, dropping the supply sack with a thud, coins jingling in his pouch.

  “Depends how much you're paying, and what the job is.”

  “Sea Grave run. Gnolls. Bad odds. What’s your price?”

  Kor knocked back a swig from his flask, taking a moment to thing. Around them, the other mercenaries had gone quiet, listening in on the conversation.

  “Two thousand Aels, upfront. We don’t die cheap.”

  Dixie’s laugh was a gunshot. “Two thousand? For you lot? I’ve seen better in a gutter brawl.” He stepped closer, boots grinding dust, musket glinting. “Eight hundred, ‘til Sea Grave. Half now, half after. Extra bonus if all your men stick through the whole thing and don’t bolt.”

  “Fifteen hundred.” Kor growled, standing, hand on his sword hilt. His crew tensed, half-drunk, and all-ready for a brawl. “We’re worth it.”

  “Thousand,” Dixie shot back, unflinching, slamming a fistful of coins on the table- stacks of glimmering gold coins. “Hard cash, upfront when we leave the city. Take it, or I hire the next pack of drunks. Your call.”

  Kor’s jaw worked, a vein pulsing in his neck.

  “Sea Grave’s a death trap.”

  “Then don’t go in. Take us to Sea Grave, and we’ll hash out a better price once we get there. If you don’t like it, you can walk.”

  Kor nodded, thinking the idea over.

  “Fine.” He scoffed. “Thousand ‘til Sea Grave. If you want us to go in with you, you’ll need another 500.” His crew grumbled, but stood. Twenty bodies, weapons strapped to them, ready for a fight.

  Dixie nodded, sharp and final. “Good. The Emperor has supplied us with a cart at the southern gate, meet us there by sundown. We’ll move out when I say.”

  1,000 Aels for muscle was a steal, and he’d squeeze every drop of worth from ‘em.

  Elyra caught up to Dixie as he swept away. “You’re scary when you haggle.”

  “Scary’s how you win.” He muttered, eyes already hunting the next deal.

  Dixie zeroed in on a food stall in front of a storage building of some kind that was piled high with crates, dried meat stacked like bricks, pemmican slabs glistening with grease under the torchlight.

  The vendor, a stout woman with arms like hams and a scowl etched deep, wiped bloody hands on her apron, the stink of salt and rancid tallow rolling off her in waves. Elyra gagged as they approached, but Dixie didn’t flinch. This would be enough grub to haul them to Sea Grave and back.

  “Bulk order!” he barked like a whip crack. “Ten boxes. Five jerky, five pemmican. Enough for thirty heads, two months. Name your price.”

  “Eight hundred Aels.” The woman squinted, sizing him up and folding her meaty arms. “Best deal you’ll get. That’s a cartload, stranger.”

  Dixie laughed, a jagged, mirthless sound that made her blink.

  “Eight hundred? For this dried-out shit?” He snatched a jerky strip from a crate, tore off a bite- tough as leather, salt burning his tongue, and spat it into the dust. “Tastes like tree bark. Four hundred, and you’re still robbing me.”

  “Seven fifty!” She snapped, red creeping up her neck, fists balling. “That’s prime stock! It’ll feed an army!”

  “Five hundred.” Dixie fired back, stepping closer, looming over her stall. His boots crunched a stray bone underfoot, the crack sharp in the din. “I’ve got twenty mercs and a long road. You’ll take it, or I’ll find some other sap dumb enough to overstock.”

  “Six hundred, you cheap bastard!” Her voice rose, shrill, spittle flying. “I’ve got mouths to feed!”

  Dixie’s eyes narrowed, cold as a winter ditch. “Five fifty, or I walk.” He slung the musket off his shoulder, resting it barrel-down in the dirt. It was a casual threat, not a word wasted.

  “No one else is lining up to buy this much. This would be your sale of the month, if not the year. There are plenty of stalls here, one of them is going to be smart enough to give me what I want and they’re going to get all my money. Your loss.”

  The vendor glared, dry swallowing as she bit her lip. He was right, no one else had placed this big of an order in a long time.

  “Five seventy-five, final!” She snarled.

  “That’s not five fifty.” Dixie shook his head and turned on his heel, boots grinding stone, and strode off- five steps, ten, the vendor’s stall shrinking behind him.

  “W-Wait, we need that food-” Elyra scurried after. “The list-”

  Ten steps.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  Twenty.

  “Oi! Fine, you ruthless prick!” The woman’s shout cracked over the noise, desperate, ragged. “Five fifty! Come back, damn you!”

  Dixie stopped, a smirk tugging his lip. He spun back, slow and deliberate, hat shadowing his eyes.

  “Pleasure doing business, ma’am.” He drawled, his southern accent bleeding through with a smile, as he tossed a pouch onto her table, the 550 Aels clinking like a judge’s gavel.

  “Elyra go grab those mercs from earlier before they wander off, I have something for them to haul.”

  A few minutes later, Dixie watched, arms crossed, as his group of paid labor waddled off with the boxes between them. Winning a good deal always tasted as sweet as a peach- it almost made up for how bad that jerky tasted.

  -To War by Jingo-

  “That’s an alchemy shop.”

  “It doesn’t look like an alchemy shop.”

  “Have you ever seen an alchemy shop before?”

  “No, but I’ve written plenty of fantasy books. That doesn’t look like an alchemy shop.”

  “Well the map says it’s an alchemy shop.” Dixie said as he lowered the map, and looked back up at the building.

  The alchemy shop was a sleek cube of whitewashed stone carved into the wall. Its front gleamed under twin lanterns. Two glass orbs full of liquid that pulsed with a steady orange light, no flicker, no smoke.

  As the two entered tehy found two matching lanterns inside, casting a sterile glow over a smooth oak counter. Behind it, shelves rose in neat rows, vials of different liquids lined up like soldiers, with crisp labels. The air was sharp and clean, biting with antiseptic and a whiff of ozone. Copper pipes snaked along the walls, polished to a shine, feeding into a bubbling retort that dripped clear liquid into a flask with a soft plink plink plink.

  “This is wrong!” Elyra whined, almost offended. “Where’s the clutter? The cauldrons? The creepy old guy with a robe and a beard?” She sniffed but there wasn’t a single trace of herbs, or strange brews. “This feels like… like some kind of chem lab. It’s too clean! It’s too modern!”

  “The Romans had aqueducts, metal piping, concrete, and even some working windmills. You’d be surprised at what is and isn’t actually ‘modern’.” Dixie smirked as he looked around, already sensing a good deal. “Of course, modern’s fine if it’s got powder that explodes and that I can put in a gun. Let’s see what they’re hiding.”

  Dixie spotted a brass bell on the counter- small, polished, glinting like a smug little bastard. He walked up, and slammed his palm down

  ding-ding-ding

  Brisk, measured footsteps clicked from the back and a man emerged, tall and wiry, skin pale as chalk under a crisp gray coat. His hair was slicked back, black as oil, and his eyes glinted, cold and assessing, over a thin nose.

  “Welcome.” He said, his hands folding behind him. “What do you seek today?”

  “Gunpowder, or Black Powder.” Dixie leaned forward. “Whatever you call it here. I need powder that explodes when exposed to flame. Do you have anything like that?”

  The alchemist quirked an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Blasting powder, yes. Imported from the Russ Dominion. Quarries love it. Two hundred Aels, for a gallon.”

  Dixie laughed, a harsh bark that rattled the vials. “Two hundred? Eighty, and you’re still overcharging. I’ve seen better for half that.”

  “Eighty?!” The man’s smirk vanished, eyes narrowing. “That’s absurd!Two hundred! That is my price. Quality costs, stranger!”

  “Hundred flat. Take it, or I’m out!”

  The words blurred, and the shouting fading to a low rumble, as Elyra’s gaze drifted. Past the counter, a polished oak bookshelf loomed, stacked with leather spines, gold titles glinting faintly. Her breath caught, and drawn like a moth to a flame her feet moved before her brain caught up. She reached into the section titled [MAGIC] and slid a slim tome free, its cover was worn but intact, pages crinkling as she cracked it open.

  Basics of the Weave: Flame and the Moon

  The name glinted in golden ink.

  Her fingers traced the parchment, rough under her finger.

  Diagrams sprawled: solar circles glowing gold, lunar arcs in silver, equations curling like vines. Energy sourced, energy shaped. She mouthed the words, lips barely moving. Not just spells, but rules, the skeleton of magic, laid out like a map in bold black ink.

  “All magic demands a source of power as fuel… the sun’s heat, the moons’ light…”

  Pictures leapt out at her, charcoal drawings of mages conjuring embers, veils shimmering under twin moons. They were simple beginner’s tricks, according to the book, but the promise burned bright. Her pulse raced, eyes wide behind fogged glasses.

  “Hundred and sixty!”

  “One hundred and seventy would barely be breaking even. One hundred seventy five is the lowest I can possibly go.”

  “Deal!”

  The other two were loud, but they didn’t even register in Elyra’s mind.

  Magic. Real magic. After all these years of dreaming about it.

  And it was immediately snatched away.

  “Knowledge is expensive.” The alchemist said sternly as he glared down at her. “Reading before buying is akin to theft of the mind.”

  “How much?” Elyra whispered, her voice quaking but firm.

  The alchemist’s eyes glinted. “Seventy Aels. It’s a rare find, both solar and and moon basics in one book, worth every coin.”

  Elyra grabbed the bag from Dixie and almost desperately dug her hand into it.

  “No way!” Dixie snatched the bag back from her and glared. “Seventy? For this flimsy rag? Sixty, and you’re lucky she’s desperate.”

  “Sixty five!” The alchemist snapped, fists clenching, coat rustling. “It’s valuable!”

  Dixie tossed some coins on the table, and lowered the book down to Elyra with a wink.

  “I believe this is yours?”

  The book hummed as it touched her hands, or maybe that was just her blood singing. Elyra eagerly grabbed the book back, hugging it tightly.

  If only either of them knew how much trouble the damned thing would eventually cause them, they might have decided that it wasn’t worth the gold.

  SNAP

  As the two exited the shop, a whipcrack turned Dixie’s head on a dime.

  At the far end of his vision a construction project of some kind was underway.

  A small girl with dog ears, her hair matted with filth, coughed blood, as her thin arms trembled under a load of heavy stone. Beside her, a minotaur, horns sawed to stumps, grunted, chains cutting into his neck, while a human man dropped a beam, earning a lash that split his back open. He didn’t scream, which made it all the worse. He was too broken to care.

  Dixie froze mid-step. His breath stopped, ice in his veins, as his eyes locked on the scene- cold, unblinking, like a predator’s stare. His world narrowed and sudden;y he was hyper aware of all the sensations around him- The musket dug into his shoulder, his fingers twitching as if searching for a trigger, his hat brim casting a shadow over his face and shielding his eyes from the glare of a particularly bright mage light.

  “Dixie, come on,” Elyra muttered, tugging his sleeve. She didn’t look up, nose buried in her new book. “We’re wasting time.” She pulled harder, oblivious, and he staggered forward, glare unbroken until the ramp vanished behind a bend.

  -End Chapter-