***
{Outside The Projection}
“…Okay, can we talk about what the fuck the Sultan just did?”
“I mean, are we even surprised at this point?”
“He literally had ‘100,000’ floating above his hand just a bit ago.”
“Now that he’s upstairs, interacting with normal people, we can see how warped he became.”
“Yeah, but damn… That was unhinged.” Stay updated with My Virtual Library Empire
“Unhinged? Unhinged is eating dates with a fork. This? This is something else.”
A few snickers broke the tension, but most of the crowd was still focused on the name Malik’s rescuer had spoken.
The Silent Crescent. Al-Hilal Al-Samit.
“Anyone ever heard of them?”
A man near the back asked and glanced around, but everyone either shook their heads or looked just as lost.
“No clue. Sounds fancy, though.”
“If none of you know, that means they were either really secretive… or really irrelevant.”
“Could be both. You’d be surprised how many idiots think being mysterious means they’re important.”
At that, several heads turned toward the front of the group—toward Roya.
She didn’t react at first, just kept her eyes on the projection, deep in thought.
Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she acknowledged their silent request.
“There was… one report.”
That got their attention. People shifted, leaning in.
“It was during the early days of Malik’s rule. One of the Banu Sasan—don’t ask me which one, I didn’t care enough to memorize his name—called in a favor from him.”
“What kind of favor?”
Roya smirked.
“War.”
The room tensed.
“War? As in a battle? A campaign?”
She shook her head.
“No. Just him. He fought alone. One man against an army. One that ironically amounted to a hundred thousand soldiers.”
Silence fell for a moment till someone broke it:
“…And?”
“Did he win?”
Roya gave them a pointed look.
“What do you think?”
A nervous chuckle spread through the crowd.
“Hah… Right. He wouldn’t be the Sultan if he lost.”
Someone muttered under their breath:
“This man… He’s insane.”
“Good job, Captain Obvious.”
Roya corrected, her tone dry:
“No, he’s right. It isn’t stated enough. He was insane long before he wore the crown.”
They all turned back to the projection as it flickered once more, waiting to see just how much crazier things were about to get.
Huda, Crimson, Safira, Layla, and Azeem? Yeah, just like Noor and Zafar, they didn’t really react.
Not for the same reasons, obviously, but there was no need to spell that out.
It was written all over them—they’d never looked worse.
Right. All five. Even Azeem.
***
{Inside The Projection}
Khamal sighed, shaking his head. Then, without a word, he fished a silver coin out of the pouch in his belt and tossed it to one of the girls behind him.
She let out a delighted squeal before rushing over to the young master, her hands glowing as she worked on fixing his battered face.
“We’re a ragtag group wanting to make a change.”
He gestured around.
“That money-hungry healer over there is a priest from Templar. ————— The other girl behind me is a noble’s secretary. She’s ———— And these two guys?”
He pointed at two scruffy-looking men leaning against a crate.
“———— and —————. Some pitiful handymen who accidentally stumbled in here.”
***
{Outside The Projection}
“What the fuck is going on with the names?!”
“Yeah… They’re glitching out, like—like radar static!”
“Shit, don’t tell me the relic is—”
“Stop right there.”
A familiar old man cut off the questioning dumbasses before they could say something they’d regret. Making most of those around him turn to face him, waiting for an explanation.
“Ain’t it obvious?”
His eyes returned to the projection.
“The Sultan doesn’t remember them.”
“….Huh. Ah. Actually, yeah. That makes sense.”
“Wait, doesn’t that make him an unreliable narrator?”
He chuckled at the young Magi.
“Aren’t we all?”
A scarred woman nodded.
“This means everything we’ve seen so far was biased. Twisted through his perspective, whether he meant to or not.”
“Maybe not twisted.”
A bearded man interjected, hesitant.
“Just… incomplete.”
He and the old man went back and forth:
“Incomplete or not, it’s still his story.”
“Right, and stories warp depending on the one telling them.”
“True… even for us, memories aren’t perfect. The Holy Relic is showing all of what he can remember.”
“Or what he wants to.”
That statement lingered in the air, a truth that no one could confidently refute.
“If that’s the case…”
The scarred woman finally sighed, rubbing her temples.
“Things are only gonna get more fragmented, aren’t they?”
The old man nodded at her, his expression grim.
“Unfortunantly… Yes, it’s only going to get worse.”
***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik scoffed, wiping the last traces of blood off his knuckles.
“Turns out trash isn’t the best bodyguard after all.”
“Details, details~.”
Khamal waved off with a grin and sat down, his grin easy but his words sharp:
“Look, we’re not here to flip the whole damn table over. Too much work, too much blood, and frankly—” he tapped his neck, “—I like my head exactly where it is.”
The noble’s secretary, an older woman with ink-stained fingers and a sharp gaze, sighed.
“And here I thought I joined a group of visionaries. Turns out, you’re just lazy~.”
“Smart, actually.”
Khamal corrected, flashing a grin.
“The way I see it, we move the right pieces, push the right people, and sooner or later, the whole board shifts without them even realizing it. That’s how you change things. Not by screaming, not by swinging swords like an idiot, but by making sure the next time those in power reach for their cup, they’re drinking out of the one we filled.”
The priestess snorted, still working on the young master’s swollen face.
“And what happens when they realize they’ve been drinking poison?”
Khamal shrugged.
“That’s what we have you for, Priestess. When we get stabbed, you fix us up.”
She shot back, smirking:
“For a price.”
Khamal waved lazily at her.
“Naturally.”
One of the two stablehand brothers, a broad-shouldered man with straw still clinging to his tunic, chuckled.
“Our lot talks big, but we don’t mind. As long as we don’t have to deal with shit ever again, we’re in. And I ain’t gonna lie, the better pay also helps.”
“See? That’s the spirit.”
Khamal smiled at him.
“Change the world, and get paid while doing it. Everyone wins.”
His wiry brother nodded in agreement.
“Aye. We’d change the world just to keep away from those fucking steeds.”
He glanced at Malik.
“Seriously, you don’t know just how bad monster shit smells.”
Malik, who had been silently standing so far, looked at them, unimpressed.
“Is it worse than a sea of rotting corpses?”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
The room fell silent.