Part 1
James took a deep breath, realizing he'd unintentionally offended her. "I'm sorry, Bisera," he said gently. "I didn't mean to imply anything negative about your people. It's just that... where I come from, some customs are different, and I'm still learning about your world."
Bisera's eyes softened slightly, though a hint of irritation remained. "Your world? You speak as if you're not from this world."
Bisera gasped, her imagination taking flight. "Don't tell me you and other divine mages reside in one of the celestial realms encasing the Earth?"
James chuckled, surprised by Bisera's wild imaginings. "Well, I am not from one of the celestial realms. But I am also not from this Earth."
She blinked, surprise flickering across her face. "What do you mean? Don't tell me there are multiple Earths?"
James gazed out over the battlements, gathering his thoughts. "Well, if my experience is any guide, there are indeed multiple Earths, but they each seem to be in their own universe. Your Earth resembles mine from about a thousand years ago. In my Earth, things are... very different. We went through an era in history where the level of development was very similar to your Earth. However, that era was centuries in the past in my world."
Bisera's gaze became distant as she delved into thought. "So you mean there are other universes, each with their own Earth at the center surrounded by celestial spheres?"
James watched her, impressed by her reasoning. "I guess you can think of it like that."
Bisera began pacing excitedly. "The Universal Spirit is omnipresent and limitless, so it makes sense that He could create multiple universes. Each universe could be created at different times, which would explain why your Earth is centuries ahead of ours. Your universe was simply created earlier!"
He opened his mouth to correct her but then thought better of it. Explaining the complexities of the multiverse and heliocentric model might be too much right now. "I guess that is one way of looking at it," he said instead.
Suddenly, her eyes widened as a realization struck her. "Wait! That makes sense now!" she exclaimed. "You mentioned suddenly being pulled into a place of darkness and boundless space where Seraphina appeared before you, right?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced. The place was like a void."
She clapped her hands together, excitement bubbling over. "That's the empyrean! The realm beyond the outermost celestial sphere—the abode of the Universal Spirit and the Archangels!"
He raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"Yes!" she insisted. "Seraphina must have pulled you from your universe and had a conversation with you in the empyrean before sending you here!"
James considered this. "Well, I did see the lady with the eight flaming wings while in the void."
She nodded vigorously. "It all fits! The void you described matches our teachings of the empyrean—a place of pure existence, beyond time and space. Though we usually theorize it as a place full of light, but no one knows it for certain. It could just as well be a place full of darkness or with areas of both. Seraphina must have brought you to that place."
He smiled, appreciating her enthusiasm. "I guess you might have a point."
Bisera began pacing excitedly. "So that means the Universal Spirit created countless universes, each with their own Earth and celestial spheres, and placed them within the infinite vastness of the empyrean. Hence, Seraphina, being an Archangel, would have the power to traverse between these realms."
James watched her with admiration. "You have quite the imagination."
She stopped and turned to him, her eyes shining. "This is incredible! It means the Universal Spirit's creation is far grander than we ever imagined. I feel so humbled—and enlightened. I had always wondered what existed beyond the outermost celestial sphere."
James smiled warmly. "I'm glad our conversation could inspire you."
She turned to James, her earlier indignation forgotten. "But wait," she said playfully, "if your Earth was created earlier and is so much more advanced, then we must seem quite primitive to you."
He shook his head earnestly. "Not at all. There's so much richness and authenticity here. It's fascinating."
She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Tell me, did you take me for a wild woman when we first met?"
He laughed softly. "Well… not a wild woman, more like a..."
She stepped closer, her gaze fixed on his face with a mischievous smile. "More like a crazy woman, right? A wild and dangerous beast," she mused. "So are people from your world completely the same as us, or are your people a completely different creation? Like maybe with the ability to wield divine magic?"
Before James could respond, Bisera gently grasped his chin and leaned in, her eyes scanning his features intently. "Hmm," she murmured, pretending to scrutinize him. "Two eyes, a nose, a mouth—you seem human enough."
James felt his cheeks warm under her touch. "I assure you, I'm as human as you are. We are just more advanced in technology due to our world being older."
She smirked playfully. "We'll see about that." She released his chin but didn't step back. "Perhaps there's more to you than meets the eye."
He raised an eyebrow. "Says the warrior who sounds like a philosopher."
She laughed, the sound like music in the quiet night. "Well, one must have hobbies outside of swordplay."
He grinned. "I wouldn't have guessed."
She shrugged lightly. "There's much you don't know about me."
"Then I look forward to learning more," he said softly.
A comfortable silence settled between them, the air filled with unspoken possibilities. The moon cast a gentle glow over the battlements, highlighting the sparkle in her eyes.
She broke the silence, her tone more serious. "James, does it trouble you to be here, so far from your own world?"
He considered her question. "At first, I was confused and worried. But now... I'm starting to see this as an opportunity."
"An opportunity?" she echoed.
"Yes, to learn, to experience something completely different. And to meet remarkable people," he added, his gaze meeting hers meaningfully.
She smiled softly. "I'm glad you're here. Your perspectives are... refreshing."
He chuckled. "Even if they cause a bit of confusion?"
"Especially then," she teased. "You challenge me to think differently."
"And you impress me with your imagination," he replied. "You might consider writing down your theories. In my world, you would make an excellent scientist."
She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I doubt that."
"I'm serious," he insisted. "The way you deduced the existence of multiple universes—that's remarkable."
She blushed slightly. "Perhaps you're just easily impressed."
"Not at all," he said sincerely. "You have a brilliant mind."
She looked away briefly, then back at him with a shy smile. "Thank you."
He took a deep breath. "Bisera, I hope you know that I respect your culture and your people. I never meant to come across as arrogant or dismissive."
She nodded. "I understand. I jumped to conclusions too quickly."
"Truce?" he offered, extending his hand.
She looked at his hand quizzically. "What are you doing?"
He laughed. "Sorry, it's a gesture from my world. It means we're making peace."
She reached out and clasped his hand firmly. "Truce," she agreed, her touch sending a pleasant warmth through him.
They stood there for a moment, neither pulling away. Eventually, she released his hand and gazed up at the sky. "It's a beautiful night."
"It is," he agreed, following her gaze to the stars scattered across the velvet darkness.
She glanced at him sideways. "Do the stars look the same in your world?"
He smiled thoughtfully. "You know, they do. That's one thing that hasn't changed."
She seemed pleased by that. "Perhaps it's a reminder that no matter how different our worlds are, there's still common ground."
"Perhaps," he said softly.
She sighed contentedly. "Okay, it's time to head to the bathhouse. I wouldn't want you to think that I am trying to renegade on my promise."
"No worries, I trust you," James replied. He had totally forgotten about the bath.
Part 2
The city of East Vaker, nestled at the crossroads of ancient trade routes and at the confluence of mighty rivers, stood as the jewel of the Principality of Rosagar. This principality, located on the northeastern steppes beyond Balkania, was nominally under the rule of the Vakerian Empire but was, in practice, fiercely independent. In Rosagar, traditional Vakerian steppe customs were preserved, tempered by the ways of the indigenous sedentary populations they had assimilated.
The Vakerians—nomadic warriors who had swept down from the vast Vakerian Plain centuries prior—had forged their empire on horseback. A segment of these warriors, left to guard their ancestral steppe heartland, had been driven further northeast by relentless foes, eventually settling in East Vaker after merging with the local people. Owing to its strategic location, East Vaker blossomed into a bustling trade center and amassed great wealth. Its ruling elites became a blend of Vakerian warriors and traders from various indigenous and immigrant communities.
East Vaker, with its imposing earthen ramparts and wooden palisades and vibrant markets, served as the seat of power for the Prince of Rosagar and the Vakerian warrior elite whenever matters of politics, governance, or diplomacy demanded their presence. Most of the time, however, the city was governed by a civilian bureaucracy dominated by a few Vakerian aristocratic families who had embraced a sedentary lifestyle. Wealthy local families served in advisory roles, though distinctions between the locals and the original Vakerians had blurred over generations due to intermarriage.
A new division had emerged: the military elite, led by the prince himself, who clung to traditional Vakerian customs in the belief that it preserved their martial prowess; and the urban aristocracy, who increasingly adapted to settled ways. The city's streets reflected this dichotomy. Beside large wooden communal halls built by ancient inhabitants stood tall wooden yurts, reminders of a nomadic past. The principality ruled over a vast area dotted with both ancient and new urban centers, coexisting with organized hordes maintaining a nomadic lifestyle outside the city walls.
Despite its urban splendor, Prince Tugor, ruler of Rosagar, and his military elites were seldom within East Vaker's walls, preferring the boundless expanse of the surrounding steppe. Only the administrative and bureaucratic elites resided in the city year-round, alongside the general populace.
Saralta, the youngest daughter of Prince Tugor, had just arrived back in the city of East Vaker. Even as she stood within her father's palace—surrounded by the trappings of luxury and comfort—her heart longed for the steppes. She couldn't wait for spring, when she could return to the open plains to lead her troops once more.
As it was mandatory for the children of the aristocratic families in Rosagar, Saralta had spent ten full years of her life—from the age of eight to eighteen—living on the steppes. This tradition kept them connected to their culture and trained them to become warriors, capable of leading troops, surviving harsh environments, and defending their foster hordes against any danger, whether from nature or raiders. Saralta had grown into one of the finest warriors in the principality. She cherished the steppes, where her spirit could roam free, untethered by the constraints of urban customs. Despite no longer being obligated to return after turning eighteen, she chose to spend every spring and summer in different parts of Rosagar's steppe territory.
At 26 years old, Saralta cut a striking yet authoritative figure, her physical beauty matched only by the power she exuded. With the additional height from her heeled riding boots and headpiece, Saralta stands at 183 centimeters tall in her full battle gear. Her raven-black hair cascaded in intricate braids that reflected her noble warrior status, each braid adorned with small golden ornaments that jingled softly with her movements. Her skin was fair and flawless during her autumn and winter months in East Vaker, but during her spring and summer months on the steppes, it would always turn into a deep, sun-kissed tan from constantly riding beneath the open sky. Her almond-shaped eyes, a rich shade of dark brown, gleamed with the depth of the endless horizons she had known all her life. Her lips, slightly full and naturally curved into a confident, almost teasing smile, could switch between warmth and daring in an instant.
Her lean, muscular frame was molded by years of horseback combat and archery. Draped in armor that gleamed with a golden hue, her fur-lined shoulders added an air of command, while her chest plate was ornately crafted with fine detailing—though no amount of embellishment could mask the strength beneath. Her body was built for war, not for the delicate dances of aristocratic courts across the Vakerian territories in Balkania and the steppes. Yet even in full battle attire, there was an undeniable elegance to her—an allure born from the strong contrast between the soft femininity of her delicate facial features, inherited from her mother, and the raw power and freedom her figure and spirit embodied.
Saralta's headpiece, adorned with rays resembling the sun's glory, was both regal and fierce, making her look like a warrior queen born of the steppe winds. The long spear she carried rested lightly in her hand, but there was no mistaking the practiced ease with which she handled it. The weight of the spear, like the armor she wore, was as familiar to her as the winds of the plains that had shaped her. Draped across her body was a longbow, and she carried a quiver of arrows on her back. These weapons were as personal to Saralta as a cellphone was to the inhabitants of James's modern world.
As the youngest of Prince Tugor's eight children, she was given the most freedom. Her mother, Yuying, was the most beloved of Tugor's five consorts, despite being only a concubine. Yuying's origins were mysterious, and her story had long been whispered about in the courts of Rosagar. It was rumored that she had been born to a noble family in the fabled Dragon Realm, an ancient and powerful nation on the eastern edge of the world that was reputed to have mastered the art of mana channeling.
Supposedly, Yuying was captured and enslaved by nomadic raiders and brought all the way across the steppes. When presented before Prince Tugor, her delicate features, graceful movements, and quiet dignity captivated him immediately. Despite her foreign origin and the disapproval of Tugor's other consorts—who despised Yuying for her slave status—Tugor was completely smitten and promptly took her as his concubine upon ascending to the throne. Yuying reciprocated his love; she was always quiet, composed, docile, and femininely graceful—traits that complemented Tugor's robust demeanor and deepened his affection for her.
Even at 46, Yuying remained captivating, her beauty untouched by the years, much to the chagrin of Tugor's other consorts, who had visibly aged in comparison. While they had given him strong sons and daughters, Yuying alone held Tugor's heart. Saralta, too, had inherited much from her mother, though she expressed it differently—her beauty tempered by her warrior's spirit, her grace mingled with ferocity.
Saralta's three surviving brothers and four sisters were all married, forming alliances across the Vakerian steppes and beyond. At 26, she had grown accustomed to being called "Aunt Saralta" as her siblings' children ran through the halls of their family's palace. Yet, unlike her sisters—who had embraced the life of noblewomen, living in great luxury and engaging in politics—Saralta had chosen a different path. Her heart belonged to the freedom of the steppes, where politics and etiquette meant little. While her siblings settled into the world of marriage and alliances, Saralta remained untamed, her passion for horseback riding and warfare driving her to seek martial glory throughout the principality. Where warriors were needed, there was Saralta. She had led her cavalry through countless battles and had become the youngest among Tugor's trusted cavalry commanders.
Despite taking on a role unconventional for a woman of her status and era, her father's love for her mother had shielded her from social pressure. Moreover, her achievements on the battlefield had further secured her position in a society where might, martial prowess, and results were the only benchmarks of orthodoxy—trumping customs and conventions viewed as inherently fluid and evolving. Vakerian culture prized continuous evolution and adaptation to become ever stronger. In this culture, nothing was set in stone; only might was the eternal measure of what was right or wrong. Any customs and conventions that promoted the development of stronger Vakerians and a stronger Vakeria were kept or adopted, while those leading in the opposite direction were cast away.
Therefore, even Vakerian women prided themselves on being hardy and capable fighters, though they did not normally serve in the army. Thus, the weak and docile Yuying stood out as a glaring exception in the Vakerian court of Rosagar. However, despite Yuying's quiet life as a concubine and mother, Saralta had once seen a glimpse of a different side to her mother—a side no one else knew.
Part 3
When Saralta was twelve, she lived on the borderland steppes with a foster family, immersing herself in the ways of the nomads. Their encampment was a vibrant tapestry of colorful felt tents, the rhythmic sounds of horses galloping, blacksmiths hammering, and children's laughter echoing under the vast, open sky. One fateful night, under a moonless canopy, tranquility was shattered as a band of raiders descended upon them with ruthless precision. The air filled with the clang of steel and the anguished cries of the wounded as chaos erupted.
Amidst the turmoil, Saralta fought valiantly, her training evident in every swift movement and precise strike. Despite her bravery, the overwhelming force of the raiders proved too much. She was overpowered, bound tightly, and taken captive to be used as leverage in exchange for a substantial ransom of fine horses, luxurious furs, and exquisite silk—commodities highly prized on the steppes.
The raiders, led by the formidable Hanzak Khan, sought demanded Yuying's personal presence among the Vakerian delegation from Rosagar tasked with delivering the ransom. Despite being initially reluctant to let Yuying go in fear of her safety, Prince Tugor relented after days of begging by Yuying. Yuying was sent along with a delegation of 1000 of Prince Tugor's finest cavalry led by the captain of his personal guards. Hanzak Khan said his horde simply wanted to behold Yuying's renowned ageless beauty that had made her a fable among the western steppes.
Upon arrival at the enemy encampment, the atmosphere was initially cordial. The Hanzak Khan greeted the Vakerian delegation with open arms, his charismatic presence disarming any lingering suspicions. A lavish feast was arranged, featuring an array of sumptuous dishes and fine wines, symbolizing a peaceful conclusion to the hostage situation.
"Cheers to our successful exchange," the Hanzak Khan proclaimed, raising a goblet in toast. "May this feast seal our goodwill and let us put aside our differences."
Saralta watched nervously as her mother, Yuying, gracefully accepted the khan's toast. "Your hospitality is greatly appreciated," Yuying responded with a poised smile, her delicate features reflecting both gratitude and inner strength.
As the night progressed, the Vakerians appeared to indulge in the festivities. The Hanzak Khan, however, had fallen instantly in love with Yuying, who was far more enchanting and beautiful than he had ever imagined. His desire to possess her overshadowed any intention of maintaining peace. Secretly, he had orchestrated the entire event to drug and overpower the Vakerian delegation.
Unbeknownst to the Vakerians, the wine and food were laced with a potent sedative, intended to incapacitate them and facilitate an easy takeover. "To the future," the Hanzak Khan toasted again, his eyes never leaving Yuying.
Meanwhile, Captain Alpbek had already sensed something amiss. Years of experience had honed his instincts, and he discreetly observed the khan's lingering gazes and the subtle exchanges among the Hanzak warriors. But Alpbek had told his warriors beforehand to play along without really ingesting any of the wine or food just to see what the Hanzaks were up to.
As Alpbek and most of his elite guards feigned drunkenness, the air suddenly became one of eerie silence.
Suddenly, under the cover of intoxication, the Hanzak Khan launched his assault. "Now!" he shouted, and the Hanzak warriors surged forward with overwhelming force. But to their surprise, the Vakerians also jumped up and started to fight them with fierce resistance. Swords clashed and arrows flew as the two forces engaged in brutal combat. The Hanzak encampment of 20,000 warriors and their families suddenly became a chaotic battlefield under the last ray of twilight. As the men fought each other fiercely, women and children were running around the encampment trying to escape while some women joined the battle. Then, suddenly, a terrifying disturbance shattered the chaos—the stampede of a large herd of aurochs spooked by some unknown cause thundered through the encampment, trampling everything in their path.
In the maelstrom of clashing steel and hooves pounding the earth, a massive aurochs charged directly at Saralta. The ground trembled beneath its powerful hooves, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Saralta could see the beast's fear in its eyes and hear the rasp of its breath as it barreled toward her. Instinctively, she reached for her sword, her heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. But before she could draw it, Yuying moved with astonishing speed, positioning herself between Saralta and the rampaging beast.
"Stay back, Saralta!" Yuying commanded, her voice calm yet authoritative, masking the storm of emotions beneath.
With an elegant and fluid motion, Yuying leapt and landed gracefully onto the aurochs' massive head. Her movements were a blend of refined grace and lethal precision, as if she were performing a deadly dance. The beast let out a deafening bellow upon Yuying's right foot landing on its head before collapsing lifelessly to the ground with a large cranial depression on the top of its head. Saralta stood frozen, her mind reeling at the sight of her mother wielding such immense, effortless power.
Then, Yuying turned towards Saralta and pulled her into a tight embrace. "This is our secret, my daughter. You must never speak of this," Yuying whispered, her voice as gentle as the evening breeze. While in a tight embrace with Saralta, Yuying's eyes scanning the surrounding chaos to ensure no one else had witnessed her extraordinary feat.
Yuying then bent down and picked up from the ground a large number of small stones and placed it into a sturdy leather bag. "Hold these for me. I will need them soon."
Saralta nodded, still in shock but trusting her mother implicitly. Yuying mounted a riderless horse with practiced ease and then pulled Saralta onto the horse sitting in front of her. Together, they rode swiftly towards Alpbek, the captain of Tugor's princely guards, who was locked in fierce combat with the three mounted warriors.
As they navigated through the tumultuous encampment, Yuying instructed Saralta to pass her stone after stone. With each flick of her fingers, a stone was hurled with uncanny precision, unhorsing an enemy warrior in a manner so subtle that each fallen foe appeared to have been struck by the enemy combatant they were fighting against.
"Saralta," Yuying murmured, her focus unshaken. "Give me one more stone."
As they drew closer to Alpbek, who had just slain the three warriors from earlier, Yuying caught sight of the enemy Khan lunging with his gleaming scimitar toward Alpbek. The Hanzak Khan engaged Alpbek in a fierce duel, their weapons clashing under the fading light of dusk. Just as Alpbek swung his scimitar in a devastating arc, Yuying launched a stone that struck the back of the khan's neck. The force from the stone propelled the khan's neck forward leading to his throat hitting Alpbek's blade as it sliced through the air with lethal grace. The khan with his throat cut, fell to the ground, and the remaining Hanzak warriors, witnessing their leader's demise, began to retreat in chaotic disarray.
Alpbek then noticed Yuying and Saralta and swiftly rushed to their aid. Yuying quickly dismounted alongside Saralta, her movements deliberate yet graceful, and Alpbek approached with concern etched on his face.
"Are you both okay?" Alpbek asked, his voice gentle as he knelt beside them.
With a trembling voice, Yuying reassured him, "We're fine," while embracing Saralta tightly to feign signs of distress. Her eyes conveyed a subtle vulnerability, and she maintained the facade of being genuinely scarred by the battle, her demeanor soft and delicate.
Alpbek continued to tend to them, his hands steady and reassuring. Yuying played along by thanking Alpbek profusely. "I wouldn't have known what to do without you," she said, her voice filled with heartfelt gratitude. Ostensively overcame with emotion, she gracefully dropped to her knees in a gesture of deep appreciation. Alpbek, surprised by her sudden gesture of gratitude, quickly helped Yuying to her feet, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of concern and emerging tenderness. In that fleeting moment, Alpbek felt a silent connection pass between them, a spark of unspoken understanding and a burgeoning sense of protectiveness.
That very evening, as twilight painted the sky with hues of amber and rose, Alpbek found himself unknowingly joined the ranks of Yuying's formidable array of champions. The day's events lingered in his mind, not just the battle, but the delicate interaction with Yuying that stirred something profound within him. Unbeknownst to him, his heart had already begun to prioritize Yuying's wellbeing, drawn by her beauty and sweetness that had subtly awoken his sense of chivalry.