Shirou was no stranger to secrets. In fact, he just like anyone else could understand the relevance in making sure sensitive cases remain away from public knowledge. The fact that his NPCs were trying to keep something from him, though disconcerting, was within their rights as individuals. Yes, individuals.

The way they reacted and spoke was all just so human. A side-eyed glance, a tugging of the lips, or the way Mordred skirted around a topic, it was all so natural. Considering that general Heroic Spirits were made from vessels to contain a spirit's soul, how were the bodies of his NPCs any different?

He came to this realization while staring at Mordred fidgeting in front of him as he stared her down. She was raised as a knight, chivalrous, and prideful of her station, and this meant she'd never considered the prospect of lying or obtaining a poker face. When she wanted something, she'd always been the direct sort. If violence wasn't enough to solve a problem, then you just weren't using enough of it. Then, how about cases where violence wasn't an option? This was a field that Agravain excelled at leagues above any knight of the Round Table. Mordred was no exception; she was likely the weakest in subterfuge and secrecy when she didn't feel validated on an issue.

To be a knight was to stand on the side of the just where loyalty stood above all.

Shirou had observed that all of his NPCs had a certain level of familiarity with him with the bottom line being respect from Gilgamesh. If the conflicted expression on Mordred's face was anything to go by, then her loyalty to him likely surpassed respect and bordered on admiration like Nero and the others. She looked as if she'd eaten a particularly sour candy, dimples forming over her mouth as she frowned and resolutely stared at the floor.

"…"

"…"

Not a sound was being exchanged between them after he'd brought Mordred back into their room to question about what she and everyone else was keeping from him. He may have stayed silent before, but things changed now that he realized Cu had died.

The NPCs weren't just his creations. They were people too.

Somewhere deep down inside of him, he pictured Arturia's smiling face, and it overlapped with the Arturia in the Holy Kingdom Camelot. Was this new world his Avalon? Could it really be?

She who waited, and he who sought must always remain steadfast if a miracle was to occur and their paths to cross again. If he made a mistake and stopped searching, he'd never truly be able to see the woman he loved ever again.

Multiple variants of a Heroic Spirit could be summoned at the same time, but what mattered was the soul. He'd have to be careful before making a rash decision and observe Arturia closely to see if she was his Saber.

He held hope, but at the same time, he kept his doubts.

Focus on what matters.

Shirou rid himself of his idle thoughts to prioritize what was in front of him. Arturia could still be reached in Camelot. There was no rush. The fact that his NPCs were doing something dangerous enough to get themselves killed took precedence.

"Mordred, I need you to tell me what's going on," he said softly, trying to coax her into answering as he knew that being forceful would play into Mordred's strengths. Her brashness was well known amidst the knights of Camelot, and raising your voice to her would only allow her stubbornness to surface. From there, it would only be a losing battle.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and gripped lightly in a show of earnest trust that she wouldn't lie to him. She glanced up at his earnest face, and made a disgruntled noise that sounded half frustrated, and half guilty.

She couldn't keep eye contact, and stubbornly summoned her helmet on so he couldn't distinguish her features. The fact that she was trying so hard not to speak spoke louder than any words that Arturia was involved. She was the only other person who could inspire such loyalty from Mordred. He felt bad for placing Mordred in such a position, yet he also had his hands tied.

He'd trusted Arturia and felt that if she was keeping knowledge away from him, then he shouldn't be concerned, but now Cu had died. Even if Mordred may get into trouble with Arturia later, he decided that he'd stick up for her as the main perpetrator.

First thing's first, Mordred needed to understand the gravity of the situation.

"Cu died," he said sternly, feeling Mordred abruptly still from his grip on her shoulders.

He couldn't read what Mordred was thinking because of her helmet, but he could feel her weighing her options in her head. She knew that he wasn't lying to her based on her trust in him. To Mordred, Cu's death was the most unexpected. She didn't know where the blue lancer had been sent, but she did know how difficult it could be to kill him.

"I could let the secrecy go before, but if you or the others are going to be putting yourselves in danger, then I refuse to be left out," he explained his reasoning. "You as a person should understand my motives, Mordred. No one likes being left out or overlooked."

Mordred knew the meaning of his statement all too well. In a way this was also a test that Shirou had administered. The Mordred NPC he'd created shouldn't have knowledge pertaining to the actual Mordred's history. The fact that Mordred shuddered at his words had more than a single meaning for Shirou.

It was true.

The NPCs he'd created weren't just based off the programming he'd given them. They were their own beings.

To Mordred, the sentiment of being overlooked tied into her personal efforts in history to gain Arturia's acknowledgment which was never given even till the end. She'd put in all her efforts, been deceived, and then was forced to realize that everything that she'd ever worked towards had been meaningless.

All her life, she'd been relegated and overshadowed. There was no way she could consciously wish the same thing on another person.

"Aaagh for fuck's sake!" Mordred tossed her helmet to the floor and scratched at her hair in irritation. She was scowling in equal measures of understanding and resignation. Enough with the acting!

Mordred batted away Shirou's hands from her shoulders, took in a breath, and puffed up her chest to take her mind off of how flushed her face must be.

"Look, the King's gonna force labour on me for this, but listen since I'm only going to say this once." Her eyes darted left and right to make sure that Tristan or the other knights weren't around before she leaned in close to Shirou's ear. "Everyone's leaving the mausoleum to make this new world peaceful. Like no open murders, evil political stuff, and other things. I wasn't really listening to Agravain for the details. I was just told to act on my sense of chivalry when I see injustice. If you want more details, the King probably knows more."

Shirou took a moment to process what Mordred had just said, before asking the only question that mattered. "Why?" Sure, every NPC was modeled after a hero, but heroes themselves were selfish and had their own motivations. This was a second chance at life for them, so shouldn't they live as they wished?

Mordred scratched her cheek with a finger, trying to come up with an eloquent explanation; however, pleasantries and articulations weren't her thing. "The King's doing it for you," she blurted out. This was the same reason for many other NPCs including herself as well, but she didn't need to say that. "The King's gotten it into her head that you're the kind of person who'd throw yourself into danger without thinking. Hence, ugh…" Mordred trailed off, unable to complete her trail of thought.

She glowered and just paraphrased. "It's kind of like this, you can't hurt yourself saving someone if no one needs saving." She grinned at her own words, mentally patting herself on the back.

Shirou frowned, but understood what Mordred meant. It didn't mean he was happy though. Arturia wasn't wrong that he was the sort to toss himself at danger, but it was also wrong to keep him away from it if he had the ability to help.

"Thanks for sharing this with me, Mordred." He inclined his head, causing Mordred to grin.

"No need for thanks. I hate keeping secrets anyway," Mordred downplayed the issue, but the grin on her face soon became strained. "Just maybe don't tell the King I told this to you right away?"

Shirou nodded. He could agree to that request. If Arturia and the others were planning to spread peace to this new world, then it was about time he started getting involved. The problem was, Mordred said that everyone was leaving the mausoleum, making it difficult to track everyone's movements.

YYGDRAIL had a common item used for communication in the form of a scroll. The thing was, he was lacking when it came to YYGDRASIL's common items as he'd never had much need for them. He had no idea where everyone had gone and could only hope that they kept safe.

Mordred mentioned Agravain so he may have an idea about where everyone was, but the delegation to Northern Roble had yet to end. He could just summon Arturia to him through the use of a skill, but this could cause problems as she was handling political affairs in Camelot. There was going to be another week before the trip back to Camelot, so in the meantime, gold was the priority.

With gold, he should be able to revive Cu. Different from normal NPCs, Cu was a sub-boss meaning that his resurrection fees were higher than average. With Gilgamesh apparently gone, Shirou was going to have to gather money the old-fashioned way: marketing.

He felt a cloud form over his head already. This wasn't an area of his expertise, perhaps Caesar could be of help, but he wasn't around.

Think. He just had to think. What sort of things would interest him enough to want to buy?

Oh oh.

Mordred watched as he raised his hands, closed his eyes, then began to call upon his magecraft. A small burst of air congregated over his palms before the outline of a sword took shape. It was the size and shape of a xiphos, but the blade had glowing azure runes inscribed over the metal to increase sharpness and durability.

At first site, YYGDRASIL players would call the sword a rune-weapon, but to Shirou it was a mystic code he'd seen during his life as a mercenary and enforcer.

"Mordred, can I ask for your help?" Shirou asked while gripping onto the hilt of his Traced sword. Gaia's influent was negligent in the new world, meaning that his projections wouldn't deteriorate.

"Do I get to fight people?" Mordred asked hopefully.

"Yes," came the simple answer. Northern Roble had a Knight's barracks were Gawain was sparring with Remedios. It was a perfect place where the importance of a good weapon was well understood. "Please help advertise this sword."

Shirou gave Mordred his Traced weapon and watched as a gleam sparked in her eyes.

"Will do," Mordred said before moving to exit the room. Shirou didn't even need to tell her where to go. Mordred was well versed in activities that drew a lot of attention.

With Shirou left behind, he began creating seven copies of the same sword which he expected to sell later. Rin had hammered into him the concept of rarity with how scarce quality gems and jewels were. Based on how effective Mordred's demonstration was, demand for the sword should sky rocket.

Anyway, he'd need a name for his particular brand.

He thought for a moment and soon inscribed the name, Iron Forge over the hilts.

Gold shouldn't be a problem anytime soon. While the other NPCs used their methods to acquire world peace, he'd do his part and start in Roble. Of course, he was worried that more of them would die, but this was why gold was important. This however, did not mean that he'd grown complacent.

He may have just been a player in YYGDRASIL, but he could be just as broken as Gilgamesh.

As soon as he got back from Northern Roble, it would be his turn to take to the field. He was different from how weak he'd been in the past. He'd matured and already became a nameless hero in his lifetime. He didn't need protection any long, so for those already fighting on his behalf,

Keep safe.

There once was a story of a tragic yet beloved ruler. She had beauty, power, wealth, and the support of her empire. She fought many battles, ushered in many victories, and gathered many allies to her cause, but in the end, when she needed her people the most, she was abandoned.

No. No it had be some sort of mistake.

She was loved and loved in return. Her people adored her, praised her, and in doing so, she shone brilliantly. A red rose in full bloom with the thorns required to do away with any enemy that would harm her or her people.

So why? Why did it all come to this?

Her very people had been the ones to drive her to ruin. She'd been convinced that her popular policies and popularity would be enough to protect her from forced abdication, but revolts from the senate proved otherwise. She was run out of her own capital.

Three days she waited, three days she suffered in vain.

Surely this wasn't real.

There she was, weakened and disheartened. Listless, and melancholic.

She…had she ever truly been loved?

The knife poised to stab her own throat failed to do so time and time again under the light of a thrice setting sun, until even then it was too late.

"It was my greatest error to love them in a way that they could not understand."

Woeful, despairing, the ruler took her own life, and so ended the tragedy.

Would her love ever be understood?

Had her Rome been wrong from the start?

Nero opened her eyes atop a red-blanketed bed inside a lavish room within the imperial palace of Arwintar, capital of the Baharuth Empire. Her general exuberance and jubilation were absent as she pushed herself up into a seated position. She wore a laced white gown that bordered on transparent, but she covered the areas that mattered with black lace. Grumbling, she pressed a hand over her face and allowed long tresses of her blond hair to cascade down over her temples. Her pupils, a brilliant lime-green appeared somber.

What an unpleasant memory.

She rubbed at her temples and pushed back a few locks of her hair behind her left ear. Ever since arriving in this new world, Nero knew that she'd been different much like the other heroes. She felt things, did things, and at times acted in a manner that wasn't part of her initial programming. She had memories of a different self that shaped her to be who she was, and this came with its own baggage.

What was it that she wished for? Yearned for? She couldn't say for certain. All that she knew was a single fact. Regardless of what she knew or didn't know, she was Nero Claudius, and isn't that all that mattered?

Her dreams were own; her ideals were her own; and her personality was her own. Surely, she was walking down a path made through her own actions.

Her mouth curved upward before she shook her head and grinned. "Umu, no use thinking about things that doesn't matter!"

She pulled at her bedsheets and flourished them around her as she hopped off of her bed. Jircniv had asked her to come into his office for an early meeting today regarding some sort of management issue. This in itself was perfect for her assignment to obtain herself a position of influence. At the very least, Agravain would stop pressing her for progress reports and stressing that she was just being lazy.

Once out of her bed, she nodded towards the servant maids Jircniv had assigned her.

"Lady Nero," they bowed their heads while holding onto a dress Nero had picked out the previous night. They approached and stood respectfully by Nero's side.

"Umu," Nero nodded and raised up her arms to let the maids do their job.

They took of her night attire, prepared a small wash basin and damp cloth which they then used to wipe away any sweat before putting on her new dress. It was in imperial colours of red and gold, and paired with a frilled white corset. Her shoes were red high-heels that clicked whenever she walked over the polished tiled floor.

Once done with their duties, the maids bowed and stood on the side to be called upon when requested. Left unsaid, but the maids were captivated by Nero's radiant beauty and took pride in dolling her up.

"S-She's a Goddess," they whispered secretly much to Nero's delight.

Praise me! Praise me more! Flattery gets you everywhere!

Nero puffed up her chest and distributed an extra gold coin each to her assigned maids. Nero found these activities perfectly normal as a former ruler, and inclined her head in gratitude for a job well done. Jircniv clearly had a good eye for talent.

Prepared for the day, Nero left her room and moved towards Jircniv's office. In a way, Jircniv's situation reminded her of her own past circumstances when she'd inherited her empire. His policies, and ability to see past social status and focus on talent was identical to her own. Moreover, just like her, he'd had to handle everything on his own and couldn't appear weak. The only difference was that she'd always been adored by her people while Jircniv was notorious for expunging the filth that made up a majority of the Empire's nobility. The amount of blood spilled was enough to leak onto the streets, earning Jircniv the name of the Bloody Emperor.

When Nero had first decided to head towards the Baharuth Empire, she had to admit that she was curious about what sort of Emperor Jircniv was, and what she found was a talented leader. Under his rule, the Baharuth Empire would surely flourish.

Jircniv, perhaps he had the potential to do what she'd failed herself. She'd be watching for sure.

The route from Nero's room to Jircniv's office was made purposely short. The two rooms were merely separated by a red-carpeted hall. Nero provided Jircniv insights on her thoughts of a proper Emperor, and Jircniv listened and would decide whether he agreed with what Nero said or not.

It was a student and teacher sort of dynamic with Nero as the teacher and Jircniv as the student that was hardly being concealed. The minsters of Jircniv's upper cabinet were abhorred at the display. As far as they were concerned, Nero was a mere performer while Jircniv was the Emperor. She had no right or qualification to tutor the Emperor, not that Nero cared about what they said. Results were what mattered, and she had plenty to show in her time in the Baharuth Empire.

She obtained allegiance from barbarian tribes, solved civil disputes, and introduced policies to ease the burden of tax on the populace. There was nothing to be said in the face of facts, but social status was important to nobles. They continued to belittle Nero's popularity with the common people of the Baharuth Empire.

Unknown to Nero, but Jircniv's reason for asking her for a meeting this morning was precisely to solve this issue. Nero may not have minded the scrutiny of others, but Jircniv's ears twitched whenever his ministry doubted Nero's capabilities which he'd already acknowledged.

Everything led to this point. So, when Nero stepped into Jircniv's furnished office, Jircniv acted casual.

Jircniv sat in the middle of the room, body covered by stacks of documents that he was meticulously perusing through. His blond hair was in disarray, but it maintained a semblance of tidiness due to the gold laurel crown he wore. He was in a loose white robe, and his eyes seemed to brighten when he stared at Nero. He'd always been finding himself captivated by her, and so purposely avoided her in order to get work done.

This case was a little different though.

The temperament of an Emperor prevented any interest he had in Nero from showing on his face. Instead he kept his cool even as Nero sat in the chair opposite to his desk and propped her legs up on a side table. He didn't know whether she was aware of it or not, but a woman shouldn't prop their legs up while wearing a dress or skirt. Their modesty would be at peril after all, but considering that Nero's normal attire had a 'see-through' gown, Jircniv knew Nero probably didn't care. She's even said that it was designed that way since she "let" them see.

Nero had her quirks, and Jircniv did not call her here to point them out.

He put down his writing quilt and stared her in the face.

"I've finished writing the trade clauses with Roble's newly established Camelot." Jircniv said before he pointed. "The papers can be found in the documents in front of you."

Nero's eyes shone before she nodded vigorously; however, her eyes gleamed at what Jircniv said next. "As for the theater, it will be fully built by the end of the month."

"You have done well!" Nero preened. "Umu, this is a cause for celebration! We'll call it, Nero Festival."

Jircniv watched in veiled amusement as Nero prattled on about spreading the news for her debut in the theater. However, that day would have to wait for an unknown duration.

"I would like to put you in charge of the Northern Dukedoms of the Baharuth Empire formally under the jurisdiction of the Furt family." Jircniv bluntly stated his true reason for calling out Nero.

Jircniv was giving her status other than a performer. It would also be a demonstration of her capabilities for all those that doubted her in his upper management.

The Northern Dukedom was plagued by incompetent management and fallen nobles who still haven't accepted their fall from grace. Ever since he'd massacred all the corrupt nobles, a majority of the Dukedoms had become vacant. Of course, Count Furt was both alive and woefully inadequate, but it was mercy enough that Jircniv hadn't killed him and his family. As far as crime goes, the Furt family had been embezzling money for their own spending, but never participated in conspiring against the throne. This prompted Jircniv to strip them of their status rather than murder them.

If Nero could fix the situation in the North, no noble would dare try to belittle her. As of this moment, she was already Duchess Claudius in Jircniv's eyes. All she had to do was agree, and knowing Nero, she needed an incentive.

In her own words, "no Emperor works for nothing."

"If you succeed in this task, I will immediately send delegates to form a partnership with Camelot, and legalize Nero Festival as a national holiday."

A gleam of unconcealed interest flittered across Nero's features. Jircniv could see that she was thinking deeply on the matter, and in the end, she grinned.

"Deal!" She bolted up and reached her hand out for a handshake.

Jircniv reciprocated the gesture, and watched as Nero immediately bolted out of the room to complete her task. The fact that she wore her emotions on her sleeve was both childish, but endearing. He could already understand why Nero was already so well liked in the Empire that the deep-seated nobility was jealous and refused to acknowledge her contributions.

In any case, now to go over something that had been bothering him.

Since when did the Great Forest of Tob have an undiscovered tomb?

He looked through his most recent reports and frowned.

He'd need to determine whether the tomb would be an asset or liability. If undead lurked within, it would only spell trouble if they started spawning into the forest.

Count Femel should be able to look into this matter. The man was a coward for a noble with reports saying he'd raped a Baron's daughter in order to force her to marry him, but Count Femel had his uses; particularly when Jircniv didn't wish to be caught approving something illegal. What better way than to frame a corrupt noble if things go wrong?

Jircniv could instigate Count Femel to send in a group of Workers to investigate the tomb. Workers were like Adventurers but different. They didn't have the information of the guilds to rely on and must determine a request's danger on their own. Their practices were generally illegal, but Jircniv preferred them due to less legal ramifications that resulted from failure. Plus, there'd be less questions and involvement from the other kingdoms bordering Baharuth.

Mulling over the issue for a second longer, Jircniv came to his answer.

With a wet stamp, he marked a sign of approval for Count Femel to begin recruiting Worker groups. Just why and how an undiscovered tomb suddenly appeared didn't really cross his mind.

Perhaps it had something to do with the missing persons cases?

The northern dutchy of the Baharuth Empire was a land that subsisted on the labour of farmers and merchants from the capital. The land was fertile for raising crops and rearing livestock. Of the four main duchies of the Empire, the north was the main source of food supply. It was all that it had going for it, meaning that its economy heavily depended on crop yields. In the hands of the corrupt, many farmers had been conscripted as personal soldiers, leaving little labour to tend to the fields. This led to a shortage of supplies and was what first began the north's economic decline. The second factor was banditry which was targeted at the merchants who brought commodities from Arwintar.

A young woman with blond hair, blue eyes, and soft elegant features walked down a dilapidated backstreet. She looked as if she belonged in the upper class, but she only wore a loose robe with sturdy hunting leathers beneath. Her expression was a pit of hollowness, the twinkle once found in her eyes long since faded in her lifeless features. She almost resembled a doll while carrying a staff that looked far too large for her use.

She looked absolutely done with life, and as she looked upon the northern duchy's rolling hills and flat plains, a flicker of hatred caused her face to twist in rage. There overlooking a small town was a lavish stone-castle equipped with a drawbridge and various states of decoration. Armed knights that shouldn't have been standing guard outside the manor were standing by the drawbridge.

"The damn bastards," She bit down on her lips and felt her eyes moisten from unshed tears of frustration.

The woman's name was Arche Eeb Rile Furt. She was the daughter of Duke Furt and would have taken responsibility over the northern dutchy in her adulthood. However, Duke Furt's noble status had been stripped away from him, leaving her the daughter of a fallen noble.

As it was, she was a Worker of the Empire desperately trying to make ends meet.

She wanted to scream at the guards in front of her family's manor to just leave out of sheer bitterness, but held herself back lest her younger sisters see her in such a depressed state.

She had to take on another job quickly. Her parent's excessive spending had spiraled the family deep into a debt that they had no hope of paying back unless Arche could receive a large windfall from a mission. Her parents couldn't seem to understand this fact and kept piling expense after expense on her shoulders. The salary of the hired guards she'd seen meant she'd have to take on another dangerous job.

Just how did things get to this point?

Arche still remembered her days studying in the imperial magic academy before unspeakable hardship was placed on her shoulders. Life had been simple then. Her goal was to graduate and assume a position in the imperial court as a Magic Caster, but that dream was no more. What she dreamed of now was to earn enough money to take her little sisters away from her parent's custody. She could care less about her father and mother at this point, and would sooner leave them for dead then help them.

Wiping the unshed tears away from her eyes, Arche trudged on towards the Worker post where missions could be posted. She was part of a Worker team known as Foresight which operated throughout the Baharuth Empire, but none of them knew of her family's situation. Unless it was for a big mission, she wouldn't meet up with her team and take smaller commissions instead. This was one of those occasions.

She just kept thinking about how much money her parents owed the guards they'd clearly hired. The two were stuck in their own delusions and did their best to keep up appearances as a Noble family even if they lacked the funding. All responsibility fell to Arche alone as her little sisters were too young to understand what was going on. Her worst fear was that her parents may even sell her sisters into slavery or a brothel. This is why she had to keep working for the sake of her siblings.

Arche walked in silence, a hand clutched over her stomach as she tried to ease the pain of skipping breakfast and lunch. Dinner was all that she'd need in order to save as much gold as she could.

As she walked, she couldn't help but notice that there was a type of buzz in the air.

Word on the street was that the Bloody Emperor had appointed a new overseer for the entire northern dutchy named Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. If the long name didn't already skew Arche's impression of Nero, the realization that her family was going to lose their home in a few weeks drove her to indifference.

Arche could care less about which noble the Emperor appointed as the new Duke, as she had to focus on the more important task of making money to pay of her parent's debts.

Her parents didn't make her job any easier, and she hated them from the bottom of her heart.

While walking towards the Worker's mission posting located in a bar on the opposite side of town, she bumped into a person who she assumed was a noble. However, the impression was off as most nobles had an accompanying guard with them. This small woman in vibrant red and a see-through dress may just have a screw loose in her head despite her beauty.

"Umu, you're perfect," the woman smiled broadly, her lime-green eyes looking Arche up and down as she brushed back a lock of blond hair that fell out of place.

"My apologies." Expression flat, Arche tried to step passed the woman.

She had no time for this.

However, the woman did something unexpected and placed a hand firmly over Arche's shoulder. "I need a guide," she said as if that explanation would cut it. The way the woman seemed so self-assured that Arche would agree left Arche speechless.

"No," Arche refused as cordially as she could. She was in a hurry. Being a Worker was dangerous which meant simple missions were always taken by a first-come-first-serve basis.

Arche tried to step passed the woman again, and this time she did. Be that as it may, the distinct jingle of gold coins was something she'd long since grown attuned to hearing. Slowly, she glanced back towards the strange woman.

"Of course, I will pay you well!" The woman lobbed over a sack stuffed with gold coins to the point that they overflowed onto Arche's hand.

Arche froze, her gaze fixated on the gold before she pursed her lips. It was a lot of gold. A lot of gold to pay for a simple guide. The fact that this woman noticed her staff must mean the woman inferred that Arche was capable.

The deciding factor that swayed Arche to agree to whatever the woman wanted was when a horse-drawn carriage carrying dozens of bags stuffed with gold parked by the woman's side.

"Umu, that's only the first bag," the woman stretched out a hand for cooperation.

Arche mentally calculated the pros and cons of what she was getting into, but the gold won her out. If she received just a couple more bags of gold, then she'd have more than enough to take away her sisters from her parents.

"I'm not killing anyone innocent or doing anything outside my moral code," Arche clarified.

The woman remained unperturbed.

"Very well," Arche nodded her head. "Where do you want me to guide?"

"The supply lines," was the woman's answer.

Nero had been given no help from Jircniv other than a carriage filled with bags of gold and its driver. She took it as a challenge. Rome was not built in a day, but first started from the efforts of a few. She was no stranger to being dealt a bad hand.

She'd begin her role as the new duchess of Baharuth's north by subjugating the bandits intercepting supply lines from Arwintar. Merchants were the lifeline of the north, and as soon as they felt safe to travel again, they would return in bulk.

What mattered now was locating and eliminating the bandits. To that end, she'd been prepared to act as a helpless noblewoman traveling with her bags of gold as bait. The problem was, not a single bandit had decided to attack her, causing her much frustration.

The driver of her carriage informed her that it was likely that an unguarded carriage filled with gold was too suspicious for any sane bandit to attack. It was too convenient, meaning that it had to be a trap. The northern bandits had always been cautious after Jircniv had given the order to hunt them down.

She would need to make the scene appear more believable.

Nero needed someone that didn't look too tough, but tough enough to seem like a hired guard or adventurer. She found this individual in a person she bumped into on the street, a seventeen-year old girl named Arche. Her doll-like features made her less intimidating, but her armour and staff signified that she could fight.

Speaking of Arche, she seemed quite subdued while riding in the front seat with the carriage driver. Nero was beside her as well, but Arche wasn't a talkative individual. After Nero had asked for Arche's name, Arche hadn't even asked for Nero's in return.

Nero pouted. Was her company that bad?

In any case, Nero hopped off the carriage and began strutting enthusiastically with her arms swinging with each step. She was excited and it showed in her beaming smile.

Arche gave Nero a curious look, but said nothing else until she sensed movement up ahead, and saw what exactly Nero was grinning at.

There was a large group of bandits incoming. Arche counted around seventeen with many equipped in pilfered knight's armour and hunting leathers.

Standing at the ready, Nero felt a rush of excitement. This would be her first fight ever since leaving the mausoleum. Her sword, Aestus Estus appeared in her hands as the bandits drew nearer and nearer.

She was the commander that led the Roman campaign against Boudica and the Iceni.

Mere bandits would think that they could face her?

She would show them the glory that was Rome.

Nero shut her eyes and focused, assuming the demeanor of an accomplished general.

Warily, Arche raised her guard and readied her iron staff equipped with unknown text and symbols. She then began channeling her magic energy. She was Third-Tier Magic Caster with three job classes, namely Wizard, Academy Wizard, and High Wizard.

In regards to the New World's standard level, Arche was considered quite strong. More so, as she possessed an innate talent known as the 'All Seeing Eyes.' When activated, it allowed her to see the tier and magic power of magic users.

Against seventeen ordinary bandits, she would be fine, but she still maintained her caution.

Arche activated her innate skill in order to determine if the bandits had any Magic Casters, but soon found herself out of breath and panting. Four bandits had magical reserves similar to her own with their magic tiers peaking at the second level; however, this wasn't what overwhelmed Arche to the point that her complexion paled. It was something else.

She shakily looked to her left beside the carriage and gritted her teeth lest they begin chattering.

The woman who'd hired her was a literal torrent of magical energy. Just looking at the over exuberant woman made her nauseous. A breeze began to blow, lifting up dirt and pebbles from the road as the woman opened her eyes and charged.

"Roma Invicta."

It was a declaration, and with it, the cry of a soaring eagle echoed in Arche's ears. The unseen magical energy enveloping the area took the outline of a golden laurel wreathe. Hang the banners high, rally to the aquila, and stand proud when facing the enemy.

Senātus Populusque Rōmānus

SPQR.

The standard of a forgotten empire lived on in the heart of each emperor. A flurry of dancing red rose petals suddenly fluttered in the wind.

For the glory of Rome.

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Fiction Press: Survivor's Log: Reflections

Book link: Fatedlegacydark. ca

Summary of book:

Death. Grief. Ruin. Nothing was left unchanged after an unexplained tragedy led to the loss of millions across the world in key locations. Cities were reduced to wastelands of steel and concrete, and many were forced into migration. When events leading to the prior tragedy occur once more, Kevin Black was going to have to learn that sometimes mysteries were better left unsolved. Trapped with his friends in the world of a ruined city filled with monsters, the journey out would be far more perilous than the journey in.