Lyno woke up slowly. For a blissful, fleeting moment, he didn't remember. He was just a man in a lumpy bed, with the afternoon sun slanting through his window. It was quiet. Peaceful.
Then he remembered.
His eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright, his heart instantly hammering. He was not alone.
The room was... different. Cleaner, for one thing. But also more crowded. In the corner, by the window, Seraphina Vex was sharpening a wicked-looking black knife, her movements economical and utterly silent. Princess Aurelia was seated on a simple stool (which Valerius had 'procured' from downstairs), ostensibly reading a book, but her posture was ramrod straight and her eyes kept darting towards him. And Valerius Zathra was standing by his small, cluttered bookshelf, a look of intense concentration on his face.
This was his new life. He was a prisoner in his own bedroom, guarded by a trinity of terrifyingly competent lunatics.
[Okay. Okay, Lyno. Don't panic.] his inner monologue tried, and failed, to soothe him. [You survived yesterday. You can survive today. Just... don't make any sudden movements. And definitely don't make anyone cry. Or squeak.]
His gaze fell upon the large, ornate chest that now sat in the middle of his room. It hadn't been there when he'd fainted. It was exquisitely made, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and glowing softly with some kind of internal light.
It radiated "expensive." It screamed "I don't belong here."
"What... what is that?" he asked, his voice a dry croak.
Instantly, all three followers ceased their activities and turned their full attention to him. The sudden focus was like a physical blow.
Valerius was the first to speak. "Ah, Master, you have noticed the First Offering. A trifle, sent by the human Emperor. A collection of baubles meant to adorn your sanctum." His tone was dismissive, as if discussing a delivery of firewood. "I have already analyzed their properties. They are harmless, but largely useless. Their primary function, as I have decreed, is to serve as passive aetheric filters."
Lyno stared at the chest. The Emperor had sent him... stuff? Expensive stuff? Why? Was this a bill? Was the chest filled with a bill? Or was this payment for his destroyed carriage? If so, could he sell it? He desperately needed the money.
[No, wait. Don't sell it,] his mind corrected him frantically. [If you sell stuff the Emperor gives you, they probably execute you for it. Okay. Just... ignore the terrifyingly expensive mystery box.]
He needed a distraction. Something normal. Something mundane to anchor him to reality. His eyes fell upon the object of Valerius's intense scrutiny: his bookshelf.
It was a mess. Books were crammed in sideways, stacked on top of each other. A few old comic books he'd had since he was a boy were wedged between serious history tomes. Dust coated everything. It was a chaotic jumble of his own personality and laziness. And Valerius was staring at it like it held the secrets to the universe.
"This repository of narratives..." Valerius murmured, half to himself. "The juxtaposition is fascinating. A treatise on late Imperial agricultural policy next to 'The Adventures of Gorblok the Mighty.' What is the meta-narrative? What lesson are you conveying here, Master?"
Lyno just saw a mess. A mess he suddenly felt an overwhelming, desperate need to tidy up. If he was doing something normal, maybe they would realize he was normal and finally leave him alone. It was his only hope.
He slid out of bed. His followers watched his every move. He ignored the priceless chest and walked straight to his messy bookshelf.
"This," he said, his voice shaky but firm. He pointed a finger at a leaning tower of paperbacks. "This is a mess."
He looked at Valerius. He looked at Aurelia. He looked at Seraphina. He took a deep breath. It was time to give his first order as the terrified supreme leader of his own personal cult.
"It needs to be organized," he declared. He was just trying to clean his room, but his voice came out sounding more commanding than he intended. "Alphabetically."
A profound silence filled the room.
His three followers stared at him, then at the bookshelf, then back at him. They were processing. Their brilliant, powerful, and utterly insane minds were churning, seeking the monumental, world-altering truth hidden behind the simple command: "Organize it alphabetically."
Seraphina was the first to understand. Alphabetically, she thought, her assassin's mind seeing patterns. Order from chaos. The twenty-six letters of the common tongue. The building blocks of language, of spells, of Imperial decrees. He is not just tidying books. He is issuing a paradigm. He is telling us to analyze the foundational structures of this world—its laws, its languages, its power dynamics—and to begin the process of reordering them according to his grand design. The bookshelf is a metaphor for the world itself!
Princess Aurelia saw it from a political angle. Alphabetical order... it is the ultimate equalizer. 'Adventures of Gorblok' will sit beside 'Archives of the Archons.' Common tales next to royal histories. He is making a statement about hierarchy. He is saying that in his new order, the stories of the small are as important as the epics of the great. It is a quiet revolution, declared in a dusty bedroom! This is the core principle of his philosophy of governance!
Valerius, however, saw the deepest, most terrifying truth. His old eyes widened in a moment of pure, mind-shattering epiphany.
He staggered backward, one hand flying to his heart, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "By the... by the unwritten name..." he wheezed.
"Sage? What is it?" Aurelia asked, concerned.
Valerius pointed a trembling finger at the bookshelf. "Don't you see what he is truly asking for? The specific order of the letters... A, B, C... it is a sequence. A formula. It is the Prime Incantation of Ordering! A foundational spell of creation so ancient and powerful that it predates the gods! It is the sequence the First Beings used to name reality into existence!"
He looked at Lyno with an expression of sheer, unadulterated terror and awe.
"He isn't asking us to tidy," Valerius whispered, his voice trembling. "He is giving us our first lesson. Our first practical exercise in manipulating the fabric of reality. He wants us to practice the fundamental magic of Creation by using this microcosm—this bookshelf—as a focus. He is... he is teaching us to be gods."
The sheer weight of this (completely wrong) revelation was so immense it was almost a physical blow. Seraphina and Aurelia stared at the messy bookshelf, which no longer looked like a collection of dusty paper, but like a primordial crucible where worlds were forged.
Lyno had no idea this was happening. He just saw three people staring blankly at his bookshelf. They weren't moving.
"Well?" he asked, a bit impatiently. "Are you going to help me or not?" He just wanted his room clean. It was the one thing he felt he could control.
His sharp tone snapped them out of their reverie. It was a command from the Master. Their first sacred task. They had been given an order of cosmic importance, and they were standing there gaping like fools.
Instantly, they sprang into action.
"I will handle the historical and political texts," Princess Aurelia declared, her voice filled with a newfound, fervent purpose. "I will divine his new order for the world!"
"The fictional and esoteric works are mine," Seraphina stated, her eyes gleaming. "I will decode the power structures of his narratives!"
"I," Valerius proclaimed, his hands trembling with ecstatic anticipation, "will oversee the process! I will document the sequences, analyze the resonant frequencies of the letter combinations! I will chronicle the birth of a new cosmos, written in dust and ink!"
The three most powerful and influential people on that side of the continent began, with the solemn intensity of high priests performing a sacred ritual, to alphabetize a cheap, dusty bookshelf.
Lyno just stood back, relieved.
[Finally,] he thought, a wave of satisfaction washing over him. [Something is getting done around here.]
He had no idea that in the Imperial Citadel, the Grand Spymaster's best scryers were currently screaming in agony as their divination spells, which were passively monitoring the area, were suddenly overloaded and shattered by a wave of raw conceptual energy. Not from Lyno himself, but from three god-tier beings pouring their immense willpower and focus into the simple act of trying to figure out if 'The' counted in alphabetical ordering, and interpreting their task as a fundamental rewriting of cosmic law.