Simon tried not to think about what he was eating as he listened to the Knight-Protector talk. It was some sort of... stew, made from scrounged vegetables and jerky. As long as Simon focused on what the Knight-Protector was saying, he could ignore where this meat came from.

Maybe. Hopefully.

The Knight-Protector was apparently in the area tracking down some sort of... gang or something. “Nasty sorts, these Blood-Fangs,” the older squirrel said, through a mouthful of stew. “Believing that the forms they happened to be gifted with – dogs, cats, wolves, those types – means they have the God-given right to do... terrible things to those they deem 'lesser'.”

“Bullies...” Simon muttered, scowling a little. Bullies weren't... really much of a thing any more, but Simon still felt a sharp stab of disgust at the thought. People who could understand people only to intentionally set out to hurt them made his blood boil.

“Indeed!” the Knight-Protector laughed. “Or... well, I would personally have used stronger language, but yes, these bilious curs have been concealing themselves in this area. Hoping to hide from justice with stories of flickers and metal monsters!” Simon wasn't entirely sure 'bilious' was really related to 'bully' or not. “But I don't believe in flickers! And neither should a smart young man like you!”

Simon had no idea what he'd done to come across as 'smart'. He'd hardly said ten words. Bedivere continued regardless: “Do you believe in fate, child? Finding you out here, all alone... there must be something there. Come! Surely whatever it is you're looking for will be found if you follow me!”

“He can't be serious,” came a voice from near Simon's ankle. Simon looked down at the compact mirror, to see Fortis peering back up at him.

“I think he is,” Simon muttered back. He was trying to talk quietly enough that the Knight-Protector couldn't hear him. He hoped he wouldn't. He didn't want to have to try to explain why he was talking to himself...

“He claims to be a 'guardian' or whatever and then decides to drag a defenseless child-”

“I'm not defenseless!” Simon stressed. He quickly snapped his head up to look at Bedivere – who quickly turned his head to pretend he wasn't looking. Simon felt his cheeks flush. “I-I have you, and...” He stopped, suddenly realising he hadn't actually asked his new friend's name.

Fortis's face was suddenly joined by another – his 'sister' from that dream earlier, a cartoony, slightly smaller version of his own face, made out of off-white 'ink'... “Do... do you have a name?” he asked, quietly. The smaller of the two inklings shook her head. Simon frowned. “Well... I'll have to think of something...”

He trailed off for a bit. “A-anyway, I have Fortis, and I have... whatever it is that you can do... so I'm not defenseless! Right? And anyway it's not like I can really do anything else...”

* * *

Simon had never walked this much in his life. He was honestly surprised he'd managed to keep up with the Knight-Protector after two hours straight of walking. Was Locksmouth really this large?

Simon was almost certain he was just in Locksmouth right now. Except... before it had been called Locksmouth.

“H-hey, um. Mr. Knight-Protector?” Simon suddenly spoke up. “Do you, um. Do you know what year it is?”

The older squirrel turned his helmeted head to regard Simon. He gave a short laugh. “Not the question I was expecting when you first spoke up! Hmmm.” The Knight-Protector brought a hand to his chin as he thought. “I seem to remember the last time someone told me it was... twenty-one forty... something. Does that help?”

Simon nodded mutely as his brain processed this new information. Four hundred years. He really was in the Neo-Medieval period... some of these inklings had rather ridiculous powers. For some reason, Simon felt a little jealous of whoever that other squirrel with the green inkling was.

Time travel was so cool.

“Why would you ask? You wouldn't happen to be from the future by chance?” Simon felt his heart suddenly sink down into the pit of his stomach with dread. Oh, no, what if he wound up changing history because he was here or something?? Would someone knowing he was from the future change things worse? Oh God he didn't even consider that someone would work it out that was incredibly short sighted of him. People in the past weren't dumb, just-

“Ha! I'm joking, my tiny friend. The look on your face – haha, you think me a madman, don't you? Do not worry. Plenty of people have that first impression. And also second and third impressions.” The older squirrel bellowed another of his boisterous laughs.

Simon flushed a deep red and hunched his shoulders, walking in silence for a while. Then, he spoke up again: “Do you know where we're go-”

The smell hit him first. A rank, sulfurous smell, mixed with a disturbing, cloying sweetness. He could also smell... metal. Copper? Iron? Whatever it was, the smell made him want to gag. “O-oh God..” he managed to gasp out.

“Put your tunic over your face,” the older squirrel urged him, while pulling the visor down on his helmet. Simon did as he was told, pulling the neck hole of his shirt upwards and tucking the fabric over the lower half of his face. Breathing through the fabric wasn't easy, but it was better than breathing whatever this smell was.

The two kept moving. There was a large ridge ahead of them, blocking view of the ocean from this distance – whatever was making that scent seemed to be coming from behind the ridge. Bedivere crouched down as he began to crest the ridge, so Simon did likewise.

The two squirrels peered over the ridge. One stealthily, one doing his darnedest to be stealthy and not quite nailing it.

Stretching out before Simon lay a village. Or, at least, a collection of ramshackle buildings – 'slum' may have been a good word for it, had it not just been off on its own rather than attached to a larger city. The buildings were made out of all sorts of materials, from wood to sheets of metal, dried vegetation, animal bones and leather. The latter of which Simon was hoping accounted for the sweet, rotten smell that had become almost overpowering.

There were no people visible. Bedivere made a disapproving sound. “Either a trap or the wretches don't even think to secure their own homes...” His weight shifted. “Either way, I don't like it.” The Knight-Protector looked down at Simon, and gave a brief, resigned sigh. “...Right then. The hard way it is. Stay here.”

The Knight-Protector then stood, and began to stride his way down the hill, while Simon watched.

“Face me, cowards!” Bedivere shouted as he strolled confidently down the hill, hand on the hilt of his sword. He looked fairly calm and casual, as if he'd done this a million times before – like there was no way he wouldn't succeed.

Simon almost missed the people creeping up on Bedivere. He heard them moving about well before he could see them – Fortis was, as usual, passively enhancing quiet sounds as they came close to Simon's ears – but soon enough Simon could make out a couple of the piles of refuse moving subtly. He opened his mouth to let out a shout of warning...

Everything then proceeded to happen at once.

Two people burst from the piles of refuse – wolves? - to dive at Bedivere – but the Knight-Protector was faster, despite his age. One of his attackers was felled with a single blow from Bedivere's sword while he was still airborne, while the other bounced off of his armour.

At the same moment, Simon felt a hand suddenly cup itself over his mouth and his arms wrenched behind his back. Almost immediately, Simon felt himself inking over, his mind becoming fuzzy. His vision swam.

He didn't fight it as he felt one of his companions push his consciousness aside and take control.

* * *

Simon trudged across the blasted wasteland. The enemy was nearby. They must be either strong or numerous, to require both him AND two other soldiers. Lignis AND Polaris. He had worked with both of them in the past, but never both at once.

There was, of course, a crowd of greys behind them. Greys were always handy to have around when you wanted to crush a large group of solids.

This ought to be interesting.

Simon directed the greys to spread out to make their line as wide as possible as they approached the ramshackle domiciles of the previous owners of this planet. These ones were nomadic and did not have much in the way of permanent settlements, so this time was taking quite a bit longer than normal.

There were solids standing in a ring around the tents and temporary shelters. Like they were expecting them. Simon signaled the greys to charge.

Weak and infirm solids weren't useful as hosts. The most hardy warriors would be on the outside of the village to defend the weaker ones within. And so, as the greys smashed against the wall of defenders, Polaris hucked an explosive glob directly in front of Simon. Simon clacked his two forelimbs together, creating a small 'click' sound – that he immediately amplified to propel the explosive glob through the air at the speed of sound.

A massive explosion rocked the camp. Simon could see the shockwave moving outward – and with a clap of his hands, forced the shockwave to reverse direction and batter the inside of the camp again.

Polaris was in his element. These solids used metal armour and weapons to cover their already hard chitinous outer skeletons. Against their own kind, and even against many inklings, this was a passable strategy.

Against Polaris, it was suicide.

Blades stopped dead inches away from his gelatinous form, only to turn in their owners' hands. Armour tore itself apart from the barest flick of Polaris's limbs. They were really no match, and yet they kept on fighting to their last.

Not one of them ran. Not even as their fellows were torn apart by metal implements, explosions and sound waves.

* * *

The acrid, metallic scent of blood filled Simon's nostrils.

“What...” Simon was standing in the middle of the ramshackle 'village'. At first he thought it was the one from his... dream? Vision? Whatever had just happened, it had him somewhat jumbled up. Like waking up from sleeping, it took him a few moments to realise that it was the settlement where the... bad people Bedivere was tracking lived.

Bedivere was a few yards away from Simon, hunched down and panting. Around them both were people – a dozen of them, splayed out on the floor. None of them were moving. Several of them had... pieces... missing.

“I assume... from your sudden confused... reaction, that it is now the boy Simon in control, rather than the... the alien, correct?” the Knight-Protector gasped out. Simon stood, rooted to the spot, even as Bedivere struggled to his feet. “...Well. In a perfect world, these blackguards would have been taken before a council of elders to be tried for their crimes... but, this is not a perfect world.”

The older squirrel gave Simon a cold stare. “You could have shown them more mercy, Fortis,” he continued. “We humans are more fragile than your kind-”

Simon felt like he was going to throw up. Fortis did this? He looked around himself. Shattered buildings, broken bodies, twisted and snapped metal weapons and armour... There was blood everywhere.

Simon took a step back. The Knight-Protector raised a hand. “Simon, hold. There's something I must tell you-”

“I never told him my name,” Fortis hissed in Simon's ear.

Simon just stood there for a moment, staring, not hearing whatever it was Bedivere was trying to tell him. This was too much. All these strangers and fighting and people acting like they know him even though he's sure he's never met them! 

An instinct came bubbling up to the surface. Usually he did his best to shove it back down again whenever this happened – it wasn't a helpful response to stress. Usually. But this time... Simon turned and ran, ignoring the warning shouts from behind him. Stumbling on uneven ground, slipping in stuff he didn't want to contemplate.

Simon scrambled his way up a hill of detritus. He didn't really have any idea where he was going – he just wanted to get away and he didn't care where. As he crested the hill, Simon saw a yawning maw of darkness in front and below him, a cave or tunnel leading down into the earth. He considered, for a moment, whether it was a good idea to enter... and though he decided it was a bad idea, the slippery slope didn't really give him much of a choice.

So Simon just went for it, ignoring a shout of warning from behind him.