“Do you really have to move out? You can keep on living here and not get charged a dime while you save for a house,” said the worried mother.

  “We already talked about this. He has had such a positive turn in the last month after such a traumatic event. And who knows, maybe soon he will present us with a daughter-in-law.” Trying not to show sadness.

  “Thanks, Dad. I promise I will call every night. And I will come over on the weekends. This new gig is very strict with phone use at all during company time, but it pays really well.”

  After a temporary goodbye, Michael got into his old car and followed the moving truck to his new apartment. Now in his new house, he unpacked what little he had and immediately opened a portal.

  “Elion, come,” he called in a new language, as a young man wearing sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt came over.

  “Thank you very much, Arcanist Michael.” He said with a slight vow.

  Michael still wasn’t used to it. After a month of learning the language from Elion, he could manage basic sentences and convey most ideas. However, it was still jarring to hear them come from a kid who looked like a typical teenager yet spoke with stiff, old-world formality. Yet he let the misunderstanding continue to profit from it later on. Mike deduced that Arcanist is a type of mage.

  The way Elion’s words reached him helped him learn the language exponentially faster.

  He had cleaned up the attic and given Elion a mattress and other necessities, but rarely took him outside the attic, except when the parents weren’t home.

  “Today we go to Elion home,” he said with his limited vocabulary in Common, the primary language on the Agendor continent.

  Mike opened a big briefcase, revealing a brand-new Remington 700 next to an FN Five-seveN, with magazines for both in the box. This was mad expensive, but if my life is on the line, I’d better not cheap out. He had actually spent more money going to the gun range every other day, renting the guns, than on the ones he purchased, as he waited for the permits to buy them.

  “Only in America. Two guns, two signatures, and nobody even asked why I looked like I hadn’t slept in a week.” After spending the last month as if he were prepping for World War 3, he finally felt ready.

  “Pardon?” Elion asked, eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope as he stared at the weapons-tools that served as a reminder of how Michael single-handedly defeated trained men, yet somehow, these seemed even more dangerous.

  “Nothing, let’s go,” he said as a portal opened to the side of the mountain he best remembered seeing from the clearing where he had first come to this world. After going through, he immediately looked around for any signs of danger to be ready to respond, pistol in hand. “Where is Elion’s home?” he said in Common while Elion crossed over.

  “A day’s walk in that direction.” The prince pointed towards the horizon between two mountains.

  I should have brought binoculars, but this should be quick. A portal opened before them, and another simultaneously opened in the distance, where Michael determined was clear of danger. As long as he had seen the place, he could open a portal to it.

  Every time, Elion was more confident when going through the portal.

  A few portals and 5 minutes of walking, choosing portal locations, brought them to the outskirts of the capital city, where they looked at it from the closest concentration of trees to hide them. He had to be careful to hide a prince well.

  “I can see the castle from here, Arcanist Michael,” Elion pointed towards the castle at its center on top of a small hill. It dominated the landscape. Its walls are thick enough for three men to walk on while standing guard. Four central towers served as outposts, while two lesser ones guarded the main steel gateway, which was lowered to prohibit entrance.

  Michael was equally amazed by a spire of pale stone that rose higher than any of the castle’s towers, standing to the right of the castle from their perspective. The tower’s surface was etched with long, vertical sigils that caught the sunlight and shimmered faintly with magical residue. Its faint blue light pulsed from the runes and sigils.

  Such power gave Michael second thoughts. Pushing through his worries with his desire for prosperity, he opened the portal directly in front of the gate and stepped through.

  ◇◇◇

  The nearest guard took one instinctive step back, sword coming unsheathed. On the tower above, an archer cursed as he drew to full tension, the arrowhead tracking Michael.

  “Halt!” the knight barked. “Do not move!”

  The archer’s sharp eyes widened. “Artifact in his hand!” he shouted down, voice tight.

  Michael froze, the pistol angled toward the ground but still clearly visible.

  The knight’s eyes flicked between the impossible, fading dark mirage of the portal and the two strangers. His jaw tightened.

  “Drop the artifact!” He said, not bothering to hide the edge in his tone. “Slowly. Hands where I can see them.”

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  Elion stepped forward before Michael could answer, lifting both hands, palms out.

  “Guard, it is me, your Prince,” he called. “Elion Valorian. Son of His Majesty. Stand your men down!”

  The archer’s draw faltered. His gaze snapped from Michael to the boy in strange clothing, squinting as if trying to peel years off Elion’s face.

  “Sir… that looks like-”

  “I see him,” the knight cut in, not lowering his stance. His expression shifted as he tried to make sense of what this meant. “If this is some prank, you’ll lose your life for daring it.”

  He raised his voice toward the walls without taking his eyes off them.

  “Tower! Send for the captain and the court magus! Now!

  Only then did he address them again.

  “Until they arrive,” he said, “the mage with the strange artifact drops it. Or my archer puts an arrow through his throat, prince or no prince, standing beside him.”

  Michael did not understand what they had just said, but he understood they were not happy. One archer on top, aiming at him, and more running along the walls to join him, and a knight with sword and shield. In his case, he was more worried about the shield.

  “Please don’t kill them, Acanist,” pleaded Elion in fear of the power of the artifact, causing the guard and Michael to frown in confusion.

  Kill them? I am the one about to die, Michael thought while keeping his face stoic. This standoff lasted about a minute as the archers now counted a dozen. Behind the closed gate, a group of about 20 men, in a mix of chain mail and some plate armor, stood in four rows, holding short-swords and wooden shields with metal reinforcement.

  “Arcanist, if you would allow me, please allow the mediation to fall on me,” Elion asked in desperation.

  “Go,” Michael responded in English.

  A knight in full plate armor could be seen approaching from behind the soldiers’ battle formation on horseback.

  “Prince Elion!?” said the knight, shocked as he saw behind the gate while dismounting and walking to it. “Elion Valorian… by the World Tree, is that you? Who’s that behind you? And what are you wearing? Speak!”

  “Yes, Guard Captain Julius, I was ambushed on my way to my first patrol. Arcanist Michael has aided me in my return.”

  “Let me through.” Commanded Julius with his face growing in seriousness as the creaking sound of the heavy iron gate rose enough for him to walk under it as it went back down behind him with a heavy thud.

  Passing the guard at the gate, Julius walked halfway between the gate and the prince. Looking at Michael and then at the strange artifact, which was partly black and partly shiny metal, he leaned the upper part of the scabbard forward with his left hand for an easier draw in case of trouble.

  “Place the artifact on the ground!” he commanded firmly while looking Michael in the eyes.

  “He does not speak common.” Elion raised his hands while moving slightly sideways to be between them.

  Michael was overwhelmed, ready to defend himself, yet he felt as if he were standing before a lion, unarmed. Coincidentally, his daily alarm went off on his smartwatch, vibrating, turning the screen from black to bright white, and letting out the usual chime.

  Julius instantly drew his longsword while taking a defensive position and stepping back. The sudden commotion and the light made a nervous archer let go of his drawn arrow.

  Michael, who cursed under his breath, immediately opened a portal between him and the archer, and a second one next to him, aiming at the floor in front of him where the arrow was embedded. While this happened, he flicked his left hand to dismiss the alarm, and with his right, he aimed the archer.

  “Stop!” screamed Elion, his head looking back and forth between Michael and the Captain.

  “What magic is this?” said Julius, looking at the arrow dug into the floor.

  “This is no magic…” said a figure cloaked in dark purple, with a staff ornate with gold strips and a purple gem at its top. Somehow, outside of the gate, without the need for it to be opened. “I sense no mana at all.”

  “Either way, he must be brought before his majesty. Whether to be rewarded or punished is another matter.” Said Julis.

  “They want to take you to my father to be questioned and have him decide how to proceed.”

  “Okay…” said Michael, worried about what would happen next.

  “Arcanist Michael has agreed to meet his majesty,” said Elion, representing Michael

  Julius sheathed his sword and, while keeping his eyes on Michael, pulled a set of handcuffs that had a small crystal embedded in them, similar to the one in the staff of the mage, throwing them a few feet in front of Elion while waiting.

  “We can not chain my savi-”

  “This is not up for discussion.”

  Elion looked at Michael with a sad face while waiting for a response. Of course, it would come to this. Who would bring an unknown force before the king unchecked? I can escape as long as I can move or fall into the portal. But you will not be taking my weapon. Michael nodded at Elion after a second. He dropped his gun, and as it was about to touch the floor, a portal opened, dropping it in a box with foam padding in the bedroom of his new apartment, where next to it was a larger rectangular box with the hunting rifle.

  Julius drew his sword again while he saw Michael take off his smartwatch and drop it into another portal. Elion, not bothered by Michael’s actions, picked up the handcuffs and took them to Michael, who presented his hands for Elion.

  “Where is the artifact?” asked Julius

  “Home,” responded Michael in Common. Context told him what Julius wanted to know.

  Now handcuffed, Julius walked closer and held Michael by his arm, which was mostly healed but still hurt somewhat. The court mage approached the Prince and observed him for a few seconds before walking behind Michael and Julius.

  Having waited about 15 minutes while two other guards held Michael by an arm each, Julius and the mage came out of the two massive wooden doors that had some sort of red fabric on them. His frame covered the throne as they closed behind them.

  “His Majesty shall see you now. Do not make any rash decisions.”

  After nodding with the Court Mage to the right and the Guard Captain to the left, each opening the door, Michael could see his majesty sitting on a throne on an elevated section of the room. His hair was just as golden as Elion’s. After getting to the center of the room, Michael stood with his stoic face, not noticing Elion kneeling behind him.

  “Your Highness Roland Valorian,” Julius said, dropping to one knee with fist to chest. “I present Prince Elion, returned after a month missing… and the man who claims to have saved him.” His tone stayed respectful, but the hard look he shot Michael’s back showed his displeasure for the disrespect of not kneeling before the king.

  The court mage stepped forward, robes whispering over the stone. In his hands, several cube-shaped crystals hovered, each about the size of a golf ball, faintly veined with blue. He plucked one from the air and offered it to Michael.

  “Who are you?” the king asked.

  He held a similar cube in his palm-larger, banded with gold at the edges and filled with a deeper, swirling blue.

  Ok. Not dead yet, let’s keep it that way. Mystery crystals, magical lie detectors? Yeah, not pushing my luck.

  “My name is Michael Diaz,” he introduced himself in Common, the bad accent barely communicating his thoughts.

  “You may speak your native tongue while holding the translation cube,” the king replied. “My court mage, Astrum, informs me you are neither fluent in Common nor trained in Intent Speech, as mages are.” He leaned forward on the throne, gaze sharpening. “Now… where are you from, and what do you intend to do in my kingdom?”