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 "Alexander, over here!" A thin hand waved up high as a short cry called out from far.
 Over in a small clearing to the side was Mean, waving her hand.
 She held a small round linen bag in her right hand and next to her on the ground lay a small unassuming trunk, presumably the one Alexander wanted.
 "Mean, let me introduce you to leader Melodias. He has been kind enough to agree to help with the situation in the clinic." He introduced once he met up with her.
 "Thank you Master Melodias for your assistance. We are truly in desperate need of help!" Mean slightly bowed and humbly expressed her gratitude to the shabby-looking man.
 Though inwardly she was asking, "Who's this dead fish-eyed drunkard Alexander dragged in? And if he is a leader why is he back here?"
 "Melodias is the leader of the Claws mercenary. We met through the hands of fate and in the short time I have known him, I have come to fully trust him." Alexander elaborated, trying to dispel some of Mean's doubts.
 Translated into English, what Alexander meant was- 'I just met him but he doesn't seem to be a total asshole. This is the best I could do. Sorry!'
 It was unknown how much of Alexander's exaggerated claims Mean truly bought but at least outwardly she enthusiastically replied with a bright smile, "I have long heard of the Claws mercenaries and leader Melodias's exploits in battle. With such an esteemed leader here, we can certainly restore order to the camp soon."
 Mean didn't bother to ask why this mercenary group was not getting ready for battle.
 It was none of her concern.
 She desperately needed men and would not look a gift horse in the mouth.
 Melodias on the other hand could almost feel the flattery being rubbed all over him and lightly smiled at the exaggerated praises.
 It seemed they were truly desperate.
 "We are all in this together," Melodias repeated the hackneyed remark.
 Then he decided to show his sincerity and said, "Now let us not waste any more time. Alexander told us the tent is too crowded and we are ready to help vacate some of our own men to make space."
 This declaration clearly demonstrated his goodwill and helped Mean shed a lot of her doubt.
 It seemed he was there to truly help and not be afraid to be the bad guy.
 "Yes, yes, please follow me." Mean nodded this time with genuine alacrity.
 But just as she was getting ready to set off, she suddenly turned and handed the bag in her hand to Alexander, "There's everything you wanted inside."
 And she added with concern "Just be careful, okay."
 "Thanks." Alexander gratefully smiled. "Mistress should be here soon with more sugar water. Until then I leave things here up to you. Be sure to prioritize helping the lightly wounded first. And keep everyone warm. Make sure they don't catch a fever." Alexander started ranting off some last-minute advice to Mean like a concerned older brother.
 "Yes, yes I get it. Now go!" Came Mean's impatient reply.
 He then turned to Melodias and solemnly said, "Leader Melodias, I leave the fate of the clinic and the wounded to you."
 "Haha, Alexander you are being too serious. Rest assured I will do my best." Melodias laughed and thumped his chest loudly.
 "I would be more worried about you. This attack doesn't seem right." He added with concern.
 "Yea, you and me both." Alexander inwardly thought.
 But he showed no reluctance outwardly and simply smiled, "I will try my best. Let Gaia guide us.'
 "Let Gaia guide us." Mean clasped her hands and repeated. Then she turned to lead men to 'clean up' the camp.
 Alexander too wasted no time picking up the trunk in one hand and then started towards his own destination.
 As Alexander set off, he felt that the outside had turned into the perfect autumn late afternoon.
 The warm sun, gentle amber-hued sky and the cool weather after the torrential rainstorm made one want to lay out a blanket outside, sit down and just have a nice, relaxing picnic.
 That was if not for a literal war that was going on a stone's throw away from here.
 Alexander speedily zigzagged his way past the meandering narrow walkways, as if he was being hounded by the rays of the soft late afternoon sun.
 To him, this gentle ambiance felt even harsher than the midday summer sun.
 Because it reminded him that dusk was rapidly approaching.
 As he sped across, he noticed that the camp had become mostly deserted by now, save for a few slaves and soldiers left behind to guard the valuables.
 So there were few to monitor where Alexander was going.
 Though occasionally Alexander did come across a few who were frantically getting ready or a squad hurriedly sprinting towards the front, none of them stopped him.
 Either they were too busy, assumed that he was on a supply run for the medical camp or simply didn't care.
 And so soon Alexander found himself in front of a small unassuming tent.
 So what was this tent?
 It was Cambyses's tent, now open and left unguarded.
 It seemed that Nestoras wanted almost all able-bodied men for this attack to make up for lost numbers and had pulled out most of the guards.
 Alexander took advantage of this convenience and deftly parted the tent flaps and strode inside the tent, without Cambyses's permission or knowledge.
 There he was greeted with the familiar yet a bit changed scenery.
 The tent was sparse as it always was, but little things like the combs, mirrors, jewelry and vases were missing.
 Presumably, they were moved to a more secure position, possibly with all the other treasures.
 But the most striking feature of the tent still remained though- a punching bag fixed into the ground by a wooden peg.
 Alexander made this fifty kg sack of sand from cowhide to help Cambyses recover from her rickets.
 It was hard to hang it from the ceiling of a tent, so he made it sit on the ground with a large peg driven into the ground to stabilize it.
 He also made her custom-made gloves from goat leather and she would and still does spend hours kicking and punching this, mostly as a measure of stress release.
 Beside the punching bag were several crude weights, which because iron was too expensive, was made of stone and wood.
 Like the punching bag, Alexander also made these to help her grow muscles and strengthen her once soft bones.
 And last of all, next to the wardrobe, in the middle of the tent laid the centerpiece - a bed.
 A normal, hard, twin-sized bed she sometimes shared with Mean, a luxury afforded to her both because of her status and her childhood illness.
 And this was the thing Alexander was now most interested in.
 He briskly approached the bed and bent down beside it.
 Then he open the trunk to reveal a cacophony of miscellaneous objects - clothes, shoes, combs, various oddly shaped tools- presumably surgical tools, small pots and pans, a few bits of metals, etc.
 But all the way at the bottom was something strange, something that looked like a straw ball.
 Alexander carefully took it out and gently unwrapped it.
 He slowly peeled the straw padding, revealing what was inside it- a teapot.
 It was an ornately decorated drinking pot and it was nothing like anything in the market.
 Firstly, I had no top lid to open and fill the pot.
 Instead, the liquid was filled using a hole at the top of its handle.
 It was something Alexander made from memory and an identical one existed in Nestoras's room.
 Except that one had only one hole at the top of its handle, but this one had two.
 Alexander carefully hid the pot under Cambyses bed, cautiously placing it behind the junk she had brushed underneath beforehand.
 He then followed the same procedure for the beetroots.
 After completing this arrangement, he got up, simply packed everything up in his trunk and left the tent with his trunk as quietly as he came, with none the wiser.
 So why did he do all this in Cambyses's tent and in such secrecy?
 Because the pot and the beetroots were the second part of the puzzle to deal with Aristotle. And he needed to hide them somewhere till nightfall.
 His own tent was too obvious and too exposed. He shared it with seven others and it was impossible to keep any secret there.
 But Cambyses, due to her status, her position as the quartermaster and being a young maiden had the fortune of owning a personal private residence.
 One that was impermeable to most members of the group- on the account of most of them being male.
 Hence there was little chance of someone accidentally bumping into and discovering it.
 And even if Cambyses or Mean, the only two allowed free passage in and out of the tent were to discover it, Alexander could easily explain it.
 Thus this was the perfect hiding spot.
 Coming outside, Alexander glanced at the cloudless sky and muttered, "They should be almost ready to march now."
 His eyes flashed a peculiar light and then he hurriedly started towards the front of the camp, determined to stop this foolish charge.
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 Waking up inside the ruins of an orphanage, Alexander finds himself chained and sold to slavery.
 A modern metallurgist, trapped in ancient times, watch as he tries to play with the cards fate dealt him.
 He will make plate armor, invent paper, build roads, teach governance and many more, as he tries to carve a place for himself.
 But how can such things not attract jealous eyes?
 The naval superpower- Cantagena,
 The unstoppable army of- Exolas,
 The superpower of the east- Adhania,
 The mercantile confederation- Sybarsis,
 The religious fanatics- Iyizarid,
 And the ever-present- Barbarians of the Barren Forrest,
 All want something from each other.
 In this ocean of sharks, follow a small carp as it struggles to leap through the dragon gate and establish a dynasty to outlast them all.
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 As the Gods descended onto Earth to bless their children to save them from the threat of extinction, supernatural beings were born with the help of the System.
 However, not everyone was blessed.
 Zayn was a 'Normie', but he was quite happy about that!
 Who the hell needs the Blessing of a God or a spoon-feeding system?
 I don't!
 As long as I had the Grimoire of the Ancient, some fragmented memories of my past, and my Army of Spirits, not even Gods would dare to look me in the eyes!
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Herald of Steel

25 A teapot

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Herald of Steel

25 A teapot

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