The realm of the gods, situated away from all created worlds, the single nexus point, for the souls of the dead.  This is where Christopher finds himself, he now sits with the gods of creation, on the lap of the one whom gave him a second chance at life.  What could these gods want from me? Did I do something wrong? He begins to wonder.

“My dear child, you have not done wrong in our eyes.  Do not be troubled by your presence here.” Isabella says softly; “You have been perfect.”

He looks up at the goddess, her warm expression is just like when they first met.  She is so kind, are all gods like this?  I don’t even feel out of place here, it’s as if this is a home to me.  Should I be so presumptuous?

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks Isabella.

The head god clears his throat to grab Christophers attention.  “Boy.  We brought you here because of this one’s actions, reincarnating you after death into another world.” “This is normally against the rules of old.” 

“However,” Says Atrius, interjecting.  “We here at the council have had a change of heart.”

“We have given our blessing to this action of rebirth.” Says Ivantis. 

“There wasn’t much we could do anyway, your soul, your life is already intertwined in the world you live.” Says Herox, the goddess of nature. 

“Because of this, and because of your life, we have decided to follow Isabella.” Says Socraxes, god of water and sea.

“You are special, my boy.” Says Isabella; “You who have a heart of gold, and soul of purity, even through all your struggle.” “You still remember your old life, yes?”

“I do.” Christopher answers.  “Although they are really fuzzy at times, I do have flashes when I dream.”  “This is unavoidable.” Says Herox; “That is why we outlawed reincarnation from the very beginning.” “We were afraid of the corruptible nature of past memories on new lives.” Says the head god.

“You, however, have not been corrupted by those memories, you seem to be unaffected by them.  Which in and of itself is enough reason to celebrate.” Isabella says lovingly.  “Your heart is pure, and we need that heart to save your world.” Says the head god. 

“Save my world?” Christopher asks. 

“Yes.” Say all six; “Your world, like many others are doomed from the moment of creation.”  We, as the Six thought this to be mankind’s fault.”  “However, we were wrong.” The gods say, one after another. 

“We initially thought that we should keep this from you, however, Isabella thought differently.” “It would do us more harm to keep it from you, and as you are a reincarnated soul, we thought it best to just tell you outright.” “While your soul has only been alive for nine years, we think you old enough to handle the pressure.”

Nine? That means, I really was young when I died, I didn’t even know my age back in my old life.  I’m five now, and thanks to my mother’s teaching, I know basic mathematics.  So that means I was four when I first died, no wonder my brothers took such a strong role in protecting me. 

“We believe that, because of your reincarnation, you are a lot more mature than your age suggests.  Stepping through the Either Portal as a human soul has, well, unknown, effects on the soul.” Says Ivantis.  Isabella holds Christopher tightly in her arms, reassuring him he is ok, and safe. 

“So, what happens now?” Asks Christopher.

Isabella loosens her embrace and looks down at Christopher; “This is the first meeting of many my child, we came to you today to give you this warning.” “We will meet again when you have your connection to mana and are able to use the magic bestowed to you.”  “Until then, live your life, create more memories with your family, and make tons of friends.” She says with a smile. 

The rest of the room is starting to get a grasp as to the relationship between the goddess of life and death, and Christopher.  Like a mother holding her child, there is an air of familial love.  As gods, they do not have children of their own, they can’t, as astral beings they lack the necessary biology for such a human thing.  Nor do they really have a need for offspring, they never age, let alone die.  It is clear however, she thinks of him as her own, an emotion they hadn’t seen before, neither did they think the goddess of life and death would be capable of such emotions.

“Till we meet again Christopher.” Her final words, before the world around him vanishes.  He opens his eyes, the tall grass swaying in the cool summer breeze.  The sun shining down on him, the birds singing their sweet songs of life.  He is back to reality, or maybe it would be more appropriate to say, he’s back in his own world.

“Good morning” sings his mother from behind him; “You didn’t come back, so I came looking for you, what are you doing falling asleep out here?” She says singsongingly.  “Sorry mom.” He says embarrassed.  “Come, lets go home and have lunch!” she says with her hand out, and a warm smile.  “Ok!” He shouts happily.  His mother is such a loving person, she came all the way out here looking for him and isn’t even mad at him.  Just happy to see him, as always.

“Hey there kiddo!” Yells some burly man from the far-off town gate, dressed head to toe in heavy tank armer.  “Daddys manning the north gate today” She says laughing, “He must have missed you when you left earlier.” 

“Hey kiddo, I heard you passed this way, what were you doing out there in the field?” He questions. “Nothing dad, I was just enjoying the view." "I lost track of time and fell asleep.” Christopher says with embarrassment.  “I got concerned, your mother came out here looking for you, I thought you got kidnapped or something!” He says exaggeratingly.  “I’m on gate duty, so I couldn’t look for you myself, you really had me worried!” 

“Isn’t the field safe? Theres no monsters or bandits out there, is there?” Christopher asks his father, already knowing the answer.  “Well, uh, well, no, there’s not, but!” “I’m sorry father” Christopher interjects with a bow; “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” “Honey, its ok, I was never concerned, especially not with my big strong man guarding the town.” His mother says, wrapping her arms around her man.  Michele turns bright red, still infatuated with his wife, after all these years, his head starts to emit steam.

“Well, I guess, I guess its fine.  This towns been safe for years, I just cant help but worry for you my boy, I don’t know what I would do if you disappeared.” He says, rubbing the back of his head, saddened by the mere thought; “I will be more careful father.  Next time, ill check with you before I leave.” 

“Eh, well, ok son.”

“We’ll be at the house dear.” His wife says sweetly.  “Dinner will be ready for when you come home.” “lets go Christopher.” Grabbing his hand.  “See you later father” Christopher says with a smile.  His father reaches out and scruffs up his sons’ hair; “Ok Chris, be good for your mother now.” 

“Of course, father.”

  Christopher begins his studies again at home, his mother taking great care in its content.  As a lower family of nobility, due to his mother’s lineage, and his father’s high knightly position, his education is of extreme importance.  Education plays a big part in the hierarchy of nobility, their status is dependent on intellect, strength, and magical power, not just lineage.  Due to these variables, the hierarchy is in a state of constant fluctuation.  While this can have its drawbacks, it’s mostly positive as the strength of character is taken over where they come from.  Leading to effective leadership, and honorable families.

This wasn’t always the case however, in the old days, it was purely lineage that dictated the positions of nobility.  Leading down a dangerous road of pride and evil.  Crime within the nobility was rampant, human trafficking, extortion, even the subjugation of the lower class and lower noble families.  The world was heading towards stagnation, and with no one in a position to make effective change, it was thought that this would continue forever.

That was, until one day.  When the king of that long past era had died.  The king, who allowed such evil actions to be taken against his own people, even profiting from it.  A king diseased by the twisted words of the nobility.  A king to an extent, was a mere puppet in the eyes of many.  The hollow words that seemed sweet on the surface, the forked lizard tongues of the evil that had been allowed to fester too long had a tight grasp on the king.  

The son of the king, the prince, first in line to the throne.  A prince who would take part in the finer things, the expensive things of life.  He enjoyed the many privileges afforded to him by his high position.  Not a threat in the eyes of cunning nobility.  They thought of him as a perfect puppet, while this king worked for them, they saw him as a lay-about, an ineffectual child who could be swayed by the lusts of his flesh.  “A perfect new king” they thought to themselves, “He will be useful” “Easy to control” the thoughts of the nobility would be correct, if they had known the prince’s mind. 

The reality of the situation was that the prince was the very thing that would bring about their demise.  The mindful tactician, seeing the actions of the nobility, and hearing the twisted words from their maws, knew the king had long been lost to their wicked machinations.  The prince surrounded himself with woman, and lush foods, filled his room with treasures and fine linens, acted ignorant in the presence of others, all for his grand plan. 

If I am known to be a belligerent delinquent, and a womanizer, they wont see what is right in front of their eyes, thought the prince.  It was true, the mask he wore, was precieved as his true face.  Until one day, he began one of the final stages of his plans. 

The prince knew, due to his actions the greedy nobility was chomping at the bit to have him become the new puppet, because a child, especially one of such infantile actions, could be more effectively controlled than that of an old man.  So, one day, while in his chambers, with his women and fine wines.  He began to “drunkenly” speak, louder than usual, about how he would make a better king than the old man, how he was young and right for rule.  He spoke belligerently about this for hours, never actually partaking in the wine, but serving it. 

Knowing the nobles outside his room, who thought themselves sly and hidden, heard it all.  He could practically smell the drool coming from their jagged mouths.  Phase seven of his many stepped plans completed, he ordered his concubines to his bed, “shuffled” to the door appearing drunk, and closed the doors.  That night he did not sleep; he was too busy for that.  The sounds of his concubines flirting with one another and the sounds of lust covered the sounds of his paperwork.  He sat at his desk all through the night, meeting with his most trusted, and compiling evidence. 

For a long time since he began his plans, he had spies.  These spies, were of the highest caliber, trained in the art of assassination and information gathering.  They, however, did not work for the kingdom before that, they started as hired mercs.  Giving their expertise to those who could pay for them.  Their members were made up of all sorts of different countries and hailed from different kingdoms.  Each member had their own circumstances, and troubles, but, the one thing that they had in common was the art of espionage. 

A group grew into a company, and the company grew into an organization, with its fingers in everything.  The prince had hired them years prior to this day.  Within that time, they were ordered to do all kinds of things for the prince.  From stopping the sale of human beings to killing the drug slingers that worked for the nobles.  This whole time, the nobles were unaware that the culprit was the prince, but thought it to be someone else, like the lower nobles they subjugated.  However, there was never any evidence of the culprit left at the scenes, leaving the nobles unable to do anything.

The more missions they did, the more respect they seemingly had for this prince.  He could order them to do anything, and with the behavior of the prince they had seen throughout his days, they expected him to use them for material gains, or kill those he disfavored, but this prince, he never once had them do a single evil act.  While they never had any real opinions on the evil actions they did in the past, this was new, this was good. 

Over those years, really, unknown to the assassins, their hearts began to change.  Seeing how their orders were that of a true leader, a king, a man who cared for the people.  The nobility they had known since their beginning was one of greed and pride, a black hole never to be filled, no matter how many suffered.  It was powerful, he was powerful.  Soon, the members only took orders from the prince, they cut off all other contacts, all their potential buyers, until they became his elite force.  

Later that same week, ground shaking news hit the kingdom.  The king had been poisoned.  Early in the morning, during his usual breakfast feast, the king’s wine was laced with a fast-acting poison.  Unfortunately, the prince, although he was his father, knew this was going to happen.  The nobility, who thought they acted of their own accord, were dancing to the prince’s tune. 

Along with all the files he and his force had accumulated, the purchase of a fast-acting poison, bought by a servant who worked for one of the nobles, was among them.  Late in the night, after he had “drunkenly” proclaimed himself a better king was this purchased. 

Hearing the news, the soon to be king, put on his usual mask.  Ran out of his chambers towards the dining hall.  With tears rolling down his face he held his deceased father in his arms, yelling why and cursing the world.  Though he knew this was going to happen, this was still his father, the man who had raised him, even though his real father had been lost long ago, swept up by the greed of those around him, he still mourned. 

The nobles surrounded the prince, giving him hollow kind words, pretending to grieve with him, acting as if their own child had died.  The anger within the prince was heavy, burning inside his chest.  He had to endure, he had to accept their words, for now.

After the king’s burial and a long grieving period for the kingdom.  The crowning ceremony began, the nobles clad in their expensive ceremonial garbs, bowing along the long hall of the kings, heads lowered, but bloodlust and thirst seeping out of their pores.  The prince entered, the trumpets blew with intensity, the confetti flowed down.  “Announcing, the first born to king Eucrates prince Aurelian twelfth king of the kingdom of Thalethis!” shouted the chronicler.