The rope didn’t seem like the best idea, but after a short bout of talking it was the rock’s favourite. The thin cable was made of interweaving strands. Each was finely divested by Jan’s power and formed from the frayed fabric of the cell bed. Moisture formed against the smooth brick walls, dew slipping off the half-cracked window sill. They had followed the rock’s plan, making a daring escape that involved dangling from the jailhouse window. It must have been near four in the morning; the only lights seeping into the sky came from a jagged stretch of houses and diluted streetlamps. They seemed like fireflies. Tiny spotted remnants sweeping over a cloud of black. It was only a few hours from Jan’s scheduled release but the scribe had kept that information a secret. The rock seemed to be enjoying his newfound freedom, and Jan didn’t want to deprive him of the conversation. If he had truly skipped jail, Irwain would be furious but he knew the guards wouldn’t care if it looked like he left a little early. The inanimate needed help and Jan would do all he could to aid its recovery.

  It wasn’t long before the two touched down in the alleyway below. They were in the garrison courtyard, a sparse patch of grass marked by fountains and disgruntled training equipment. A few guards hunched in scarlet robes were arguing about the latest results. Jan almost felt guilty as they slipped by, cloak and rock disappearing into the misty night. A few simple twists of magic distracted the rudimentary alarms and the two descended down the dim-lit pathways. Kag was a solemn city in these late hours. It’s authoritarian control dissuaded most from being caught without purpose or even worse, without arms. Jan muttered as his now sweat-streaked hair flickered in the hot wind. He reached to his side, taking ahold of a streetlamp as shadows danced among the wayward cobbles. At last, the two had reached, the forward gate. Four guards bearing torches stood at ready. It was a simple group, no doubt edged on by an ambitious commander yearning for promotion.

  “It’s amazing to be outside! I can feel it, so much data, and so much more to see! My sensors are almost overloaded!”

  “That’s great! Can we uh focus here?” Jan replied.

  “Alright Commander Jan, show me what you’re made of! Let’s sneak past these Jannics!” the rock said enthusiastically.

  “Okay, how do you suppose we do that?” Jan replied.

  “Active stealth packs!” the tiny rock screamed.

  Nothing happened.

  One could almost swear a flamboyant tumbleweed trampled through the cold air. For a moment, both waited, either stuck in a rudimentary stupor or waiting for the other to react.

  “We don’t have those?” Jan muttered.

  “......zh…z.hzh…yeah, I don’t know why I said that something in my memory…..” the rock continued to droll on, an incessant ramble that Jan thought to be ill-worth its remembrance.

  “Why don’t I show you a little magic?” Jan whispered.

  Working as an imperial guard is often considered one of the highest honours a mortal can bestow. It’s a pledge towards a greater cause, a fracture of your soul immortalized in the feats of slashing swords and a wayward world. Your death has meaning, your life plastered as an epoch of the heavens. In a world strife with monsters, such clear regiment between good and evil, many would find service a righteous undertaking. One that would soon be debockled by the young scribe. Faint raindrops pattered down the pristine road as the two edged forward. Jan was careful to keep out of torchlight, using his power to bend scattered rays and slip into the shadows. It wasn’t long before he reached the gatehouse. A fern caught Jan’s wrist as he sneaked through local flora and into the dimly lit hall. He had just slipped towards the second set of doors when a short cry rang out.

  “Hey!” a guard shouted.

  They had just glimpsed him, maybe only the hind of a shadow in the dark. Another ran forward, talking to their companion, hands firmly pressed on their sheathed swords.

  “Did you see that?” he squinted.

  “No, do you think it’s a channeler?”

  “Not sure, it’s late so it could just be the wind, wake up Joric”

  “Joric! The last time I woke up, Joric, I ended up shovelling latrines for a month!”

  “Fine, I'll wake up Joric, at least that will stop the snoring.”

  The two ran inside, leaving a small campfire to burn outside.

  Now was certainly a good time to leave. In one fell sweep, Jan jumped forward, shifting gravity and causing his feet to plaster themselves on the ceiling. Holding his breath, he walked only a few inches above the guards to exit the tower and landed in relative safety on the ground below. Then impervious to their wrought-iron defences he launched forward using air currents to streak them both into the night.

  “Incredible Commander! You truly earn your rank,” the rock shouted.

  “Thanks, rock, but let’s get out of here,” Jan replied.

  It wasn’t long before the clouds began to part as the sun glinted over the horizon.

  “Okay, why don’t I give you a name? I should give you a name?”

  “What did Crous call you?” Jan muttered darkly.

  “Tacti?”

  Tacti, Jan mulled the words over, letting it run loosely on his lips.

  “I wouldn’t want to use the name of my enemy.”

  “How about TPAN? It’s the initials on my CPU?” the creature interjected.

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  Jan seemed confused. Unsure of what those words meant, he continued down the winding road. A few trees fluttered in a park nearby as fruit glistened in the moonlight. On occasion, citizens would often stalk its scattered flora with two great cherry trees planted in the late Emperor’s honour. Leaf peddles floated through the night breeze, tiny flickering swirls that faded in the muddy ground.

  “How about Sill, it means rock in Weii, and that’s probably where you're from?”

  Images of the distant kingdom flashed in Jan’s mind. It's a brutal temper mashed with an admiration for progress. The young scribe had never visited, but Irwain would once every season. Messages would often flock to the kingdom’s ports, a portrayal of the silent rivalry between the two imperial powers.

  “What makes you think that? Logic dictates I would be manufactured….zhzhh….zh”

  Silence consumed both for a while as Jan waited for his companion to respond. He was getting used to these moments in which it would struggle to recollect its former self. After he found Crous, Irwain could use whatever magic was left to save the damaged soul.

  “I like Sill, it’s not a bad name but still it could be a little more original” the rock muttered.

  For some reason, there was a lot more humanity in its voice. More than most realized.

  “Alright then, we'll work on it!” Jan mused.

  They had just reached the foremost street of Kag, a building near the scribe quarters. Tall marble structures shot towards the skyline as a mixture of straw and muck matted the street below. There was only one person to trust with the information they had just learned and Jan had no time to spare. As they walked banners flaked in the cool night breeze, pagan symbols and scattered fabric swaying among the heavens.

  “Do you remember who you used to be before the rock?” Jan asked bluntly.

  He had been trying to pry more for the Sill’s memory, but he wasn’t the best liar. When he was young Irwain had almost made this his proudest achievement. Mischievous yet caught, devious yet known, a charlatan who was an obvious fraud.

  “I don’t think I was anyone else? What makes you think so?” Sill asked in an almost inquisitive tone.

  Perhaps he could prove Irwain wrong. Jan held the stone firmly in his palm, preparing to reply.

  “We’ll of course your a person, don’t worry we can fix you I promise”

  Then he whispered, trying to mix a sense of sincerity and urgency into his voice.

  “What about your loyalty to Crous, sixteen years, and you were still transmitting him messages, why?” Jan questioned.

  “My loyalty is to you now Commander, you outrank Crous.”

  It replied quickly and without hesitation. Something in Jan clicked for a moment; it seemed honest. He wasn’t good at reading voices normally but he believed Sill. Strangely the tiny rock seemed truly grateful for its freedom and almost hummed in excitement at every turn. Still, if Crous could make it believe it was a “device” then anything was possible.

  “I do?” he replied quickly.

  The thing was confusing. Perhaps Crous used military doctrine to enforce his commands but why inflate Jan’s rank? Could Jan’s action of saving Sill painted himself as a leader in its eyes? He felt sorry for the rock and it’s sixteen years without any contact, a half-life clinging to a broken world. The least he could do was pry for more information.

  “Tell me about your former master,” Jan said slowly.

  For a moment, no reply came. Jan ran his hand along a marble railing as a few peasants began trickling inside. A small buzz came from Sill’s stone as it began to speak.

  “Sorry, Commander I seem to have blockers on details. It seems whoever instilled me didn’t want any information getting into the hands of the Jannics. Wait… here’s something his name was Captain Anthony Crous, serial number 981765 and _______” the rock dronned.

  Jan kicked a pebble as they made their way down the street. Almost as a way to vent his frustration. Surprisingly the pebble got up for tiny rock legs to run it back towards its original position. Jan ignored it with his mind fixated upon Sill’s words.

  “I was given to him as part of his first mission.”

  Standard issue, Jan never knew Crous was a soldier but having an inanimate be commonplace meant this army was both bloodthirsty and cruel. He was lucky the rock believed he was on their side it had likely done unspeakable things yet it still made no sense. History had always painted Crous as a mercenary, doing anything and everything for a taste of coin. His loyalty could be bought for a hand of silver, his sword a sliver of gold. Records suggested he came from northern regions. These were places where shifting weather and swarming monsters beat out more warriors than swaying grass. Jan had read one account where Crous was first introduced as a simple farmer, a merchant hoping to sell his crops in Kag and purchase a depository upon his own arrival. In those tales, he had a family that was killed by plague and was crippled by welisan fever. Another he was a forgotten King, bankrupted by Irwain and madened by life in the wilds. Gossip and rumour had shrouded Crous’s existence before the attack. His feats on the road to glory were littered with acquisitive conquest. Beheadings, hangings, just or unjust, for armies or passive agendas, the mercenary was a force respected by employers and feared by his enemies. It was only near the latter years that his fame began to dwindle into infamy, where the blood of monsters mixed too cruelly with the blood of men. This was Jan’s chance, a moment to seize the conversation entirely.

  “What kind of army did he work for?”

  “Sorry, I can’t remember, but I can give you the acronym, it’s written on my databanks?”

  “No, it’s fine, don’t worry Sill, once we complete our mission, I’ll take you to Irwain, then he can help you, maybe with replication, we can even create a whole new body” Jan muttered hopefully.

  It was an extremely far-fetched, something that had never been achieved in history. The human body was simple far too complex to be conjured from air but if Jan could make an apple, perhaps something more could be considered.

  “Mmmm body?”

  “Why would I need a body, Commander!?” Sill questioned.

  “To, I don’t know walk, live, see?” Jan replied.

  The tiny rock buzzed for a moment. He felt the vibration through his pocket almost a hum of interest.

  “My manual says I have slots for mechanical spider legs, why not start with those?” the rock hummed excitedly.

  “Can I have spider legs?” Sill questioned excitedly.

  “Uh….. yeah maybe sure” Jan replied.

  For some reason, the thought of a tiny sentient inanimate on sharp point sticks didn’t sit well with him compared to playing the hand of God. The very least Jan could do is send the inanimate to Wei and let it rest among the others, a sort of community where the combined essence would pool and provide a sense of meaning. Sill’s memories would be transcribed for academic study or simply broken and allowed to be passed on. Yet that would come after some time, first Jan wanted something simple. Revenge. He tried to shift the conversation to something more simple.

  “What do I need to track down Crous?”

  “I’m sorry Comma….”

  “Sill that’s an order! And besides call me Jan” Jan barked.

  He felt bad, but he was playing the rock’s game now, and he wouldn’t back down.

  “Is it imperative to the mission? Have you got your memory back?” Sill asked.

  “No, but don’t worry we’ll navigate through this together, I’m sure Crous can help us,” Jan lied.

  “Yes! Great Idea Commander Jan.” The rock hummed slowly.

  “He was always so kind, valiant, it felt good to serve someone of such high rank. He was a man of calibre, a person of honour. Once we report to him everything will fall into place! We can get off this REDACTED _________ REDACTED ________ WARNING WARNING REDACTED_____ MEMORY CORRUPTED, UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS” the rock mumbled.

  Jan almost choked on his breath. The rock had strange figures of speech, time as an inanimate had taken a lengthy toll. Sill had a long way to go before he found out the truth.

  “What would I need to decrypt your files?” Jan asked slowly.

  He was using magic to give him strength. Slowly leeching grass from seeping edges to have the plants wilt at his touch. It was an illegal move and highly complex, almost putting more strain than it was worth; however, Jan was feeling desperate. It wasn’t like the grass had feelings, mostly weeds anyway. Except for Wadsworth who had fully fledged emotions, herbicide could not be overlooked. The tiny leaf-like creatures would carve dwellings in trees using twigs as spears to fight the planet’s giant insect population while harvesting small crops.

  It took some time for the rock to reply; it almost seemed like it was holding back, fighting against an internal turmoil as it spat out words. They seemed different, almost unnerving.

  “Decryption can only be accessed through vocally inputting Crous’s overwrite password, do you have the password?”

  The words formed too easily on his lips, it felt wrong to manipulate something so innocent. Yet for a moment, there was no response.

  “Sill?”

  There was no reply as the voice etched a different tone, it was far more autonomic, almost as if it was someone else entirely. Jan felt a shiver down his spine as his heart beat furiously for a moment. Talking to Sill could be far more dangerous than he previously imagined but if there was a password, he was only one word away. Crous’s conditioning would be his failure; his actions paved towards his demise. One simple step and the assassin’s head would dangle on a cross.

  “No?”

  The rock buzzed once more as a slight shimmer radiated from its tabular exterior.

  “Hello! Sorry, I seemed to have gone offline for a moment! Were you able to get the overload working?”

  Jan paused. Whatever monster Crous had created would soon aid his downfall. It was only a matter of time.