Luck has left me standing so tall

I sit still, on the cold floor of a small windowless cell. Above my head, a massive Tesla coil hums, its dry, menacing crackle piercing my eardrums at the slightest movement. The straitjacket tightens around my chest and arms, heavy chains wound around it, locked in place by a plastic device that looks ready to explode at any moment. “They really didn’t hold back… I wonder if it’s just for me, or for everyone else in the other cells… No. Don’t think about it, or I’ll fall back into it… Laila, Nadia…”

A dull sound of footsteps approaches. The door opens, metal scraping against stone, and a dark shadow fills the entrance. «Stand up.» The command is sharp, stripped of all emotion.

I obey, slowly, my legs numb. Once I’m on my feet, a guard swiftly unfastens the straitjacket, removes the plastic device and chains. He doesn’t put shackles on me—this omission unsettles me. They escort me down a damp, dusty corridor. I try to peek into the other cells, but the doors are shut. No sound, no cries, no hope. After what feels like an eternity, we arrive in a bare chamber. A single sack lies on the ground. My weapons are nowhere to be seen. The air is cold, the ceiling high and bare. «Change.»

I approach the worn, dark-gray sack. Inside, I find my clothes and armor, but no trace of my weapons. “So it wasn’t going to be that simple, after all.”

Once I’m dressed, the jailer gives a nod and leads me back the way we came. When we step onto the bridge, I spot in the distance one of the carriages I had glimpsed before. Now I finally see what pulls it: an enormous black creature, half raven, half snow leopard—a griffon unlike any I have ever seen.

I climb into the carriage with four soldiers inside. As soon as I sit, the driver shuts the door, and the vehicle lifts from the ground with a faint jolt before surging forward. Through the window, I sometimes catch the beat of the beast’s wings. Forested and pastoral islands drift around us, suspended in the air. The carriage soars above the clouds until it descends upon a wooded isle.

We land on a path. The griffon begins to walk, the air fresh and scented with moss and wet earth. At last, the trail opens onto a vast French garden. The flowerbeds are perfectly tended, their symmetry so flawless it borders on unreal. The carriage halts in a walled courtyard. As I set foot on the ground, I turn and see, bathed in the morning sun, a castle reminiscent of Chambord. Gothic in design, imposing and majestic, it overwhelms me with awe and fascination alike.

Ahead, guards dressed much like the royal sentries of England open the gates. One of the soldiers behind me urges me to follow them into the castle. Inside, the contrast strikes me—the Gothic exterior gives way to Rococo halls, gilded decorations clashing with the solemn stone that greeted me. They lead me through corridors until we reach the throne room.

Once inside, the guards and soldiers step aside, leaving me in the center. Before me, seated on a throne, is a man with a stern expression. He wears a richly adorned military uniform with golden epaulettes and braids. Beneath his coat, a dark brocade waistcoat and a white silk shirt with a high cravat. White leather gloves cover his hands, and a monocle gleams on his face.

To his left, a throne stands empty; to his right, Kenji and a well-dressed man in a dark tailcoat, waistcoat, and fitted trousers. The man fixes me with an imperious look and commands: «Bow before the king.» I try not to scoff at his tone, but as I bow, I can’t resist rolling my eyes.

«Tell me, Ito, is this the young migrant you spoke of?» asks the king.

«Yes, your highness.» he replies, pressing his right fist to his chest.

«He does not look like one who has faced Goran himself and lived.»

«Sorry I’m still in one piece. Next time I visit, I’ll make sure to come covered in scars, missing an arm and an eye.» I answer sarcastically.

«How dare you! Do you even know who stands before you?!» the elegant man snaps, outraged.

«Uhuhuh, easy, easy—it’s nothing,» the king says with a laugh. «He’s a boy. Let him speak as he pleases.»

«Yes, sire,» the man mutters, bowing his head.

The king turns to me again. «Do not take offense at my words, boy. They were born of wonder. No one has ever survived a direct clash with him—let alone emerged unscathed.» At his words, I lower my gaze. Memories of that day surface. “Unscathed… right…” After a brief silence, the king speaks again. «Ito, why don’t you tell our esteemed guest what was decided last night.»

«Yes, Majesty.» He bows slightly. «Regarding your situation, it has been agreed that His Majesty will be more than glad to host you and your companions at the palace.»

«What?! Truly?» I blurt, eyes widening.

«Indeed—on the condition that you join the army under my direct command.»

“So there it is—the condition I expected.” «“I know it may seem presumptuous.» the king continues, his tone touched with gentleness. «But General Ito has told me of your deeds and powers. A man of your caliber would be invaluable among my ranks. I hope you take no offense, but given the circumstances, there is no other way for us to remain.»

«… Very well.»

«However,» Kenji adds, «with your current skills, you will not go far. I will personally see to your training.»

«Fine, I accept!»

At my exclamation, the king’s mustache curls into a smile. «Hannover, arrange a gala tonight in honor of our guests and our new ally.»

«As you command.» the elegant man replies, bowing deeply before leaving the hall.

The king then turns to a servant standing silently against the wall behind me. «Escort our guest to his chambers. His companions await him.» “So they’re already here… thank goodness.”

«This way,» the servant says, pointing to the door. Striving to maintain composure, I follow.