Kadria interrupted his thoughts by closing the metal device in front of her with a thunk. She turned to him and grinned.
“Gotta say, it’s nice to have this back,” she said. “I worried it might be years. Although it’s gonna be awhile before I can replicate the Internet.”
“What on Doumahr is an Internet?” Nathan asked.
“It’s fairly complicated to explain. How do I say this…” Kadria trailed off and stared at the void in the ceiling.
“It’s an invention from the world you came from, isn’t it? Like the Express that the Twins mentioned, and all the other strange things you bring up all the time,” Nathan said.
Kadria blinked at him.
Ignoring her, he strode over to the dining table, pulled out a seat, and flopped down. There was no food or drink, and Kadria didn’t summon any after a few seconds.
Irritated, Nathan reached for his binding stone. He vainly tried to replicate the magic he had seen and felt Kadria use dozens—if not hundreds—of times before.
“Huh. You’re actually getting it,” Kadria said.
Given all that was appearing were either horrific lumps that tasted vaguely like food but didn’t look like it, or flavorless lumps that looked and felt perfect, Nathan disagreed.
“You’ve made a crazy amount of progress lately. Then again, I picked you because you clearly had a knack for this stuff,” Kadria said. She stared at him for another minute, as he rapidly summoned and destroyed more and more food. “You probably don’t want to work out how to control life magic while you’re in this mood, however.”
“This mood?” Nathan growled. He paused. He hadn’t meant to say it like that.
“The mood that suggests you’ll happily push me into the bed and do amazing things to me, yes,” Kadria said, a grin stretched from ear to ear. “Anger can be a great motivator, but the secret to life magic is the last thing you should discover while furious.”
Nathan glared at the lumpy mess on his plate that was supposed to be soft bread rolls. With a wave of his hand, he banished it from existence.
“This place, this world,” he said, changing the subject. “It’s in my head, isn’t it? That’s why only I can see it, and why I can’t detect it with the binding stone.”
“Partial credit,” Kadria said.
She rose and joined him at the table. A bamboo steamer appeared between them, along with two sets of wooden chopsticks resting on marble chopstick rests. Kadria pulled off the top of the steamer, revealing a large batch of perfectly steamed dumplings.
Nathan was somewhat familiar with dumplings, as they were a popular food that been imported to the mainland from the Kurai Peninsula. Narime knew how to cook some excellent ones from scratch, the rare times somebody could convince her to approach a kitchen.
“If this was in your head, then you wouldn’t feel full after eating here,” Kadria said. She ate half of a dumpling, then tried to offer the other half to Nathan.
“I’ll eat my own,” he said, fumbling with the chopsticks.
“Heh,” she laughed, watching with amusement as Nathan tried to use the chopsticks. Eventually, she took pity on him and summoned a fork for him.
“Guess your fox never taught you that?” Kadria asked.
Ignoring her, Nathan picked up a dumpling with his hand. It was hot, but he was effectively fireproof. She stared at him as he popped it in his mouth.
“Most people eat them with their bare hands over here,” Nathan said. “Maybe it’s different in the Federation.”
Kadria scowled at him. “Barbaric.”
“How many times have you crawled under the table while I’m eating?”
“That’s different.”
Nathan rolled his eyes.
After a few more dumplings, Kadria got back to the topic at hand. “Like I said, this place is physical. But you’re right that it is in your head, in a way. The door is a physical manifestation of a mental phenomenon that only affects you. Hence, only you can see it or interact with it. It’s like your emotions: they exist, but nobody else can feel them.”
“You’re comparing a door to an emotion?” Nathan asked incredulously.
“Who’s the succubus here?” Kadria gave him an upturned look. Her foot ran over his crotch as if to prove her point. “You’ve barely begun to understand the basics of mental magic. I’m something whose entire existence revolves around it. By combining it with spatial magic, we create these physical manifestations of mental worlds. We can manipulate the things people see, or even see things that people hide. Once you’re good enough, you can start visualizing people’s emotions and thoughts.”
Kadria waved a dumpling in the air. “None of that information overload bullshit. Watching you cast that spatial spell was as painful as it was hilarious. I thought your head was going to explode. I can’t imagine wasting time on reality TV when I can watch you.”
Something clicked in Nathan’s mind. “Visualizing emotions and thoughts… Is that how you knew I was going to detonate the binding stone when we first met?”
“Huh. You really are sharp. The way you overthink things is cute, but I really do prefer the part where you pick out the right answer so fast,” Kadria said with wide eyes. “But yeah, basically. Reading minds is a bitch. Attacking people mentally and taking over them is so unreliable because it’s so easy to resist. The Twins are fairly talented at it and they still couldn’t do anything to you.”
“It sounds like you read my mind,” Nathan said.
“No, what I saw was that your thoughts went wild and your emotions went crazy dark.” Kadria placed her hand flat in the air and dove it toward the ground while making a whistling sound, like something crashing to the ground. “I’ve seen that before, so I checked for traps. Found the nastiest one I’ve ever found. First time I’ve regretted not investing in mental control like the Twins, but you probably would have fought that off anyway.”
She shrugged. “It worked out.”
“You said it wouldn’t have hurt you,” Nathan said.
“I can protect myself from a binding stone going thermonuclear,” Kadria said. “But if I hadn’t seen it coming, I’d be—” she clicked her fingers in the air.
Nathan stared at her fingers for a few moments. He munched on a dumpling, then swallowed and leaned back.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” he asked.
“You’re asking that now?” Kadria replied. Her foot pressed into his crotch. “And not before all the other fun we’ve had?”
“No, I’m asking now because I’m certain you’ve been lying to me.”
Kadria froze. After several moments, she tilted her head. Her foot receded from his crotch and she crossed her arms. Her pupils enlarged, giving her the hellish look she used when she wanted to intimidate him.
“Go on,” she said, voice flat.
Was she angry? Nathan didn’t know or care right now.
“You told me before that I didn’t understand how time worked. Then you explained that although you can manipulate timelines, it is extremely difficult even for you,” Nathan said, locking eyes with her. Even if her increasingly serious gaze was beginning to terrify him.
He knew that Kadria could end him in a moment. Sweat formed on his back, but he didn’t let any of his concerns show. He refused to let her deceive him any further.
“I did,” Kadria said.
“You mentioned predetermined events. The idea that the world tries to revert to some sort of norm, because certain things should happen,” Nathan said. “But I’m less sure about that, and if you can pick and choose which timeline you want to be in, doesn’t that imply they don’t exist?”
Kadria rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay. I think you missed the boat on predetermined events there. I’d explain further, but your little conversation with Ifrit makes me think you’re barely coping as is.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Nathan snapped.
“I’m not. Ifrit was patronizing you,” Kadria snapped. “I’ve been the
one telling you as much as I can, even though all these things that confuse you, because you’re a tiny little man from a tiny little world in an impossibly large cosmos that gives no shits about your personal problems or if everything on this planet drops dead in the next instant.”
She glared at him.
Nathan rocked back in his chair.
This was only the second time she’d gotten angry at him. And this time it felt a tad more personal.
“You fucking idiot, I haven’t been lying to you. The only thing I haven’t been telling you are the things that would melt your brain, because you can’t fucking let go,” Kadria said. “I’ve even been careful to never lie to you about this. You deceived yourself about it.”
The room was deathly silent. Nathan heard every beat of his own heart and the rush of blood through his veins.
“What?” Nathan asked.
“Go on, finish your accusation. I’ve been watching you this entire time. I know exactly what you’re about to say. But I want you to be the one to say it.” Kadria waved her hands at Nathan.
Almost a minute passed. Nathan glared at her. She glared back.
Finally, he said, “This isn’t the past. You never sent me back in time.”
“Yeah, it isn’t.”
Nathan blinked. “Then what is it? Is this some mental construct? Or is it some entirely different world?”
“Mental construct? What idiot has the time or energy to keep pathetic humans tied up in some massive illusion?” Kadria scoffed. “This is your world, but roughly fifteen years in the past, and with a few crucial differences. An alternate timeline, an alternate reality, an alternate world. Messengers call them worlds, because we hop between them like mortals wish they could move between planets.”
“Why, then? Why the differences? Was it a game to you? To see how long before I’d notice?” Nathan asked, trying to keep his anger in check.
“If I thought you would have accepted it, I would have told you up front. But you were the one who said it was going back in time. I even told you that you couldn’t save your world. Although I bet you don’t remember that part.”
Nathan was almost certain that she had told him. But his memory wasn’t perfect, and Kadria was pissed.
As in, so angry at him that he wasn’t sure he would leave this room alive.
He dropped that particular line of questioning, given he didn’t have any evidence to press against her.
“Fine, let’s say you never lied. But you never told me. And those differences nearly got me killed.” Nathan pointed at her angrily. “Seraph not existing is one thing. Sunstorm and Sen having a sexual relationship is odd. But Narime’s gem ability being entirely different? It becomes difficult to determine what’s different because I’m changing the future, and what’s different because we’re in a different world.”
“Welcome to reality, which is always more complicated than you like,” Kadria spat back. She huffed. “Maybe I should have admitted it to you when it was becoming clear. But you never visited me after the Twins. I did plan to tell you but you just… cut me out. That hurts, you know. We’re supposed to be partners.”
Partners?
Nathan almost threw that back in her face but calmed down in time.
Because they were partners and had been since she had sent him to this new timeline. Kadria had helped him multiple times. She had helped him deal with the Twins in her own way.
More to the point, her pupils had returned to normal. She glared at the empty bamboo steamer on the table. Nathan couldn’t catch her eye.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
“Why are things different?” he asked, feeling deflated.
“Because it’s harder finding a suitable world than you think. There’s a lot of timelines out there—an infinite amount, even—but I needed one where you could slot into the Anfang Empire, Messengers were present, and it was before the Federation invaded the Empire. Things were going to be different. I didn’t exactly spend a lot of time narrowing my search down to ‘worlds that suited Nathan’s personal preferences.’”
“What if I had only wanted to change the past in Falmir…” Nathan began to ask, before looking away. Did he want to know?
“Same thing, because I needed a world where you could actually change things. Your family and personal situation in Falmir was pretty shit, from what I can infer. Terrible environment to change history,” Kadria said. “Now do you get it? This wasn’t a conspiracy against you. I wasn’t laughing at you. This shit is horrendously complicated. I’ve been doing it for forever and a half and know things that the Twins can only imagine, and some of this stuff still hurts my brain.”
“Will I ever find out about it?” Nathan asked.
“Hopefully not. I mean, do you want me to tell you how many alternate versions of me are out there?” Kadria asked with a grin.
“Uh…” Nathan grinned back, imagining something in particular.
“Oh, so you’re back in that mood.” Kadria’s foot ran up his leg and began to harden him up again. “I feel I’m owed a bit after this shit.”
She slipped under the table, and Nathan felt her slip his length out of his pants.
But before she did anything, her head poked up above the table. “And next time you want to talk about dumb predetermination stuff or overthink timeline stuff, try asking nicely next time. You’ve been fairly low maintenance so far, and really impressive in a lot of ways.” She pumped his length and grinned at it. “And even more so now that the Twins have given you an upgrade.”
He groaned. “I’ll try to remember.”
“Don’t try. Do. I’d rather not jump to an alternate timeline and replace you with an alternate version of yourself,” Kadria said. “Do you know how annoying that is to do? I’d have to fight myself over you. I basically never die, so there’s never spare timelines to borrow you from.”
He stared at her. What was she even talking about?
“Promise?” she asked, pressing him for an answer. “Also, that last part was a joke. I already told you that controlling timelines is hard.”
“I’ll come to you if I have any questions about this stuff,” he said, waving a hand around. “Although, uh…” he trailed off, feeling embarrassed.
“What?” she asked. “I mean, this is nice and all, but I really would like a nice reward after this. And it’s been ages since I’ve poured a nice milkshake right down my throat.”
“Can you undo what the Twins did? Or at least make it controllable?” he said, pointing at his obscenely huge length.
Kadria laughed. “Awww, are some of your girls unable to handle your girth? How adorable. Fine. I’ll ask the Twins to do something later. Because there’s no way I’m losing this permanently, and I don’t know how to make it controllable.” She eyed him up. “Maybe see if they can add a few inches for my personal preference.”
Nathan had joked that she was a size queen, and now he realized she really was.
Then again, Kadria never did anything with it that didn’t involve her mouth. Her opinion might drastically change in the future.
For the time being, Nathan laid back and enjoyed the warm and wet sensation along his length. He tried not to think about anything other than the cute woman in front of him.
Not the strange timeline shenanigans that had been explained to him. Not the concerning revelations about things being even more complicated than he had thought.
And he definitely didn’t think about the coming invasion of Tartus and capturing Torneus.
“Can you focus on me for five seconds,” Kadria mumbled around his shaft. “I can see your thoughts wandering, you idiot. Pull on my horns and distract yourself. Or something. Idiot.”
Chapter 35
A few days later, Nathan left with most of his army for Tartus. He marched along a strict path toward the city.
If he strayed too far north, patrols from Theus’s other fortress could easily intercept him. Too far south and he’d bump into the
largest river in the Federation, and therefore a large number of river forts. He wasn’t exactly threading the needle, but the faster he arrived at Tartus, the better.
To his south, Sen led his other army from Fort Taubrum. She and Sunstorm had bickered over who was in command. Eventually, Sen had gotten her way by dint of a duel. Nobody saw the duel, which made Nathan suspect that Sunstorm had given in to her close friend.
The fact that the two of them were sleeping together probably had something to do with it as well. Sunstorm had a deep soft spot for Sen.
Nathan arrived first. Small companies of Federation infantry waved banners from the hills surrounding Tartus while mounted scouts rode in the distance. Smoke rose into the sky from a massive encampment outside the city, and more tents were visible outside the nearby hilltop fortress.
While the Federation might have surrendered Castle Forselburg, it was not giving up Tartus without a fight.
His army encamped a few miles away from the enemy and began erecting earthworks. It would be days before Sen and the others arrived. Defensive positions were vital. Patrols fanned out, ritual circles were constructed, and scouts sent out across the small valley they were in.
Tartus was built on top of one of the tributary rivers that joined the nearby Amica river. The center of the Federation was split by the Amica river, which was formed from a large number south-flowing tributaries from the north. Several tributary rivers from the northern half of the Gharrick Mountains formed a major source upstream.
The Amica Federation was named after the largest river in its territory because it split up so many of its nations before they formed the Federation. Nearly half the provinces had borders along the Amica river, and even more had borders along tributaries to it.
Nathan had mostly avoided it so far. Presumably, Sen’s army was held up because she needed to cross it. The river was far too large to ford, which meant she needed to find a bridge. That meant capturing a castle or a town built on top of the river.
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