Chapter Text
The storm clouds set in first.
It always looked, to Jestro at least, as if rain was inevitable. Like troops charging to the castle. Ready to lay all manner of hell to it. But not yet. Closer. Closer. Not so much as a warning shot of thunder, booming across the horizon. Total silence on the world outside.
Or maybe the sound from outside was forgotten by those comfortably swaddled within.
It had been that way since before Macy was born. Today was the day she got to see it all for herself. Years came up to this moment. The moment after. Many moments after that. All gilded with the sweet nectar called glory. The armour fit a bit awkwardly. No matter. She shook her left shoulder a few times, trying to not draw too much attention. For, as she remembered without too much struggle, this was also the day of four other knights. Two in front. Two yet to arrive.
And Jestro.
The two faces there were totally new to Macy, each deep in their own reflection. She’d tried to make conversation with each one. But she supposed that was overly optimistic to begin with. The one in blue armour had been here for, it seemed, long before her. almost stuck on replay. A grunt or a battle cry sounding from him again and again as he laid ruthlessly into the training dummy. Now it was more noticeable by its scuffs and scars. Indeed, the whole room was. Almost all of it was a square box that seemed to imprison you. Focus the mind on nothing but the upcoming battle. The upcoming war, even, that seemed as if it could strike at any second. The one reprieve, the tiny square of glass Jestro never seemed to relieve his gaze of, added to that.
Perhaps that was what went on in the bigger knight’s mind. Concealed from it only by armour accentuated in a staunch yellow. One of the Hill People. Even Macy knew that. She sighed for a second as she recounted how that must feel. The other two noticed this. The blue knight shook his head ruefully before landing his biggest strike yet on the dummy, severing the wooden head clean off. And as for the yellow knight? He didn’t even dear to crack a smile before hanging his head again. His only reprieve being the sausage roll he now ate. The pleasant yet solid, stodgy smell of it told Macy all she needed to know.
“Out here,” she found herself murmuring, “it must be the sole representative of home.”
The next entrant perhaps concealed his demons differently. Green armour this time. Soaring in, his shield used more as a hoverboard, his face lit up almost the moment he arrived.
“Clay?!” he exclaimed. “Woah! How are you, man? How long has it been? Where have you been?”
Clay looked, for a millisecond, as if he wanted to smile. To forget. But the next expression proved to Macy that he could never. No chance. His sword clearly felt as if it had done enough. Now it hung by his side. Ready to pierce the green knight next if need be.
“It…has been a while.”
“You’ve grown up so much!” the green knight continued. “You’re a fully fledged knight now, like you always said you’d be!
“And you,” hissed Clay, “were not who I was expecting to see.”
“Isn’t this great? We’re gonna be Nexo Knights together!”
“You certainly seem happy about it.”
And with that, Clay retreated to the window himself. One kiss planted on Jestro’s neck before he went out of sight of Macy completely. The green knight seemed to slump a little as he sat down. It didn’t get to the point he might cry, but the mental wound of the sting could be seen by anyone.
“What’s your name?” Macy asked.
The green knight raised his head and expression at once. You’d never even know he was sad a moment ago.
“Aaron.”
“Nice to meet you. My name’s-”
Aaron shrugged. “I know who you are. We all do.”
It would have been rude were it not also very true. Macy had to concede that one. The articles showed up on a screen even now. Her face, curated from an outburst of anger some time ago. She didn’t even have that many freckles anymore.
‘King’s daughter insists on graduating as Nexo Knight TODAY.’
And that was her. There hadn’t been that much of a fightback. Her father didn’t endorse it, but equally knew he had little understanding and therefore didn’t say no. the main opposition had come from Jorah Tightwad and Lance Richmond. Even then, she realised with a wrinkled nose of disgust, that was because they didn’t want to be shown up by their, as they saw it, bride-to-be. That was where the real anger had come from. Photo and all. And here it was on the screen. Replaced just as quickly by the same photo she’d seen countless times over the past hour, marketing sponges. Used for rats, trench foot, showering, cooking. Not a single use left out on there.
And then it came. The announcement she’d been waiting for. And the one they’d all been waiting for, in one way or another.
“Attention all graduates: you are now about to be graduated and become this kingdom’s Nexo Knights. Would you please follow Jestro’s lead into the Tightwad Industries Arena, upon which you shall be inaugurated.”
The yellow knight was just behind her. Jestro in front. She’d seen him a couple of times throughout her childhood. One very brief time at the academy, holding on for dear life to the other jouster’s lance as he was taken this way and that. Mostly fascinating her parents with endless magic and jokes. He conjured them as if by magic every time. So it was a shock, then, to see him look so glum. She said as such.
Jestro smiled with the same affectionate weakness as a cold cup of tea. “Aw Macy, you always were the nicest of the royal family. Good to see that’s still going. But I’ve been thinking.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, you see, I make the same jokes to your parents every time I’m over there. And I’m about to go out there and do it again to an audience of thousands for at least the fifth time this year. We’re barely into summer!”
“What’s the problem with that? You’re able to memorise your jokes and it gives you a nice cottage in the castle compound. I remember you were the first to receive a new Knight-Phone!”
“Well, yeah, but that’s it! If you remember one thing I say to you, Macy, remember this; all comedy comes from pain. And it’s easy to find comedy that will resonate with the audience because they feel this pain. I don’t make the same jokes because they’re easy to remember. I make them because nothing’s changed. Remember my joke about the greengrocer and the archer?”
Macy giggled.
Jestro smiled as if he didn’t want to say what he did next, but he knew he must.
“That was always your favourite, wasn’t it? Well, look around you. They can still joke about how they can’t even have their own catches for dinner. Or have any dinner at all. And the same with the Squirebots and town criers. They can still say how they work the hardest and, yet, are the ones most up to their neck in the muck. And the wizard of the Hill People not even seeing the progress they magicked into this world. I make jokes about this, Macy, but these are genuine concerns of the kingdom. All these new things, all these modern ways of keeping order, and people are still starving in the filth and the scorn. And how do we expect this place to be better while these are concealed as tightly as you and your new friends in their armour?”
Macy had no answer as they entered the arena. A massive bowl filled to the brim with a crowd expecting, demanding, spectacle. Wherever there were no people there were screens detailing the prices of sponges, fruits, Squirebot servicing. Some even held uo by lone Squirebots themselves, little flat-footed things barely above four foot, scampering in all directions with the information the public supposedly must know. In the centre of it all, a bright orange holographic shield with a sword down the middle. The emblem they would serve for the rest of their lives.
“So what do you think is the answer?” Macy whispered, as the crowd bayed on. They barely knew the names. A few indiscriminate chants may have sounded for her name. But she honestly couldn’t tell.
Jestro looked back at her with a face grimmer than the sky outside.
“I don’t know. But it has to change. And soon.”
He left as quickly as he came. Taking his place in front of the audience. Starting off with some harmless juggling. The prelude. The calm before the storm. Something about celebrating the Sisterhood of Kleptocracy which had been caught. Her next. Her graduation. Their graduation. And then came his voice. A voice which she had grown to associate as reassurance. The calm, assured notion that everything would be alright. As you would always expect from a father.
“Greetings, one and all, citizens of the great realm of Knighton!” King Halbert’s voice boomed from overhead. That in itself like thunder, quieting an entire nation in awe. Now you really saw it. The tendrils of fluorescent yellows and oranges wrapping around the giant dome. A gargantuan bowl with a tessellating floor beneath. Ready for jousts, theatre, comedy, wizards. And knights.
“First of all, let me congratulate our Nexo Knight, Sir Robin Underwood the Gallant, on his final assignment in capturing the Sisterhood of Kleptocracy. For too long they have plagued the pockets of this great nation. No more. However, that will be his final mission. For today, we usher in another new era alongside undeniable, true progress. Today we welcome our new Nexo Knights!”
A cheer once again as Sir Robin Underwood stumped towards them. A tall, grizzled man with his son in tow. Three eyes and three legs between them. A permanent look of questioning, as if the battle may leap out at him at any second, painted his face. His armour more like a second skin alongside a body that had seemingly never succumbed to gluttony. Its only concession to time being the grey streaks in his wiry hair and stubble. Drawing closer with five shields in his hand. Looking burdened beyond the weight. Macy did not yet see how one fit the other beyond the sword in his hand. But with that, she reminded herself with a smile, she didn’t need to.
She was here.
All of them in a line. The yellow knight towered over her. But she could still see the other two beyond her. Aaron high above them all with his shield, doing any manner of tricks and flips. Clay trying to ignore him as some might try to ignore a gruesome wound the more he did it. And the crowd at first seemed to love it. Cheering louder and louder the higher Aaron went. The strange thing was, none of them were looking at him. Not even the Squirebots, all scuttling to one direction.
As soon as Macy looked where they were going, she wished she hadn’t.
Lance Richmond. Her eyes didn’t deceive her. The entire arena turning into a nest of camera flashes, reflecting off his armour this way and that as he blew kisses to just about anyone. The blonde hair which flopped down one side of his forehead insulting their preparedness. His sharp cheekbones almost cutting into her heart. For he was only walking in one direction. And were it for any other reason, the Royal Guards would have almost certainly got to him. Instead, he sauntered all the way. Every screen blaring his name. Every common man chanting his name as if it were religion. As if his name brought luck or prosperity. It certainly embodied those. And he kept walking. The dream kept walking. All the way to the princess’ side. The most raucous cheers came when he raised Macy’s hand to his lips. Her not having any chance whatsoever to voice what she thought. She wanted to slap him. She hated the way he smiled at her as if he could take her heart like any other product. But one look from her father put paid to that.
“And now, people of the realm of Knighton, please welcome your new Nexo Knights!”
So there they were. The latest generation. Merlok had honestly lost count of the times he had seen this process. Back then it was the main hall of the castle itself. Done by the King himself. The salesmen were kept outside. Clearly Jorah Tightwad had not been around then. Very few had been. But he would take his role with pride as he came forward with Underwood and his son. All he could do was stare at the fresh faces and hope they did likewise.
“All rise: Lance Richmond, Macy Halbert, Axl, Aaron Fox and Clay Moorington.”
Again, Lance’s name chanted in a way he hadn’t seen since wizards of old plied their trade. Even then it was a humbler affair. A way of saying thanks where mere words or flowers simply didn’t do it justice. Here it was impossible to tell which fuelled which: the boy fuelling the chants or vice versa. The second most chant was more for the idea. The notion of having knights. He’d be willing to hazard a guess that, outside the training ground, the names were a complete mystery. Yet here they were. Give them the shields. Watch each in turn be activated. And then turn to the audience.
He couldn’t help himself. A sigh exited his perfect white beard before he began. Closing his eyes. The faint hope that he’d open them again and see the past still there, all these years after. When he would have been in a position not dissimilar to young Aaron over there. Young. Green. Appreciated for the skill. Now he did what appeared to be the only way to gain shreds of appreciation left.
With all his might, he twirled his staff in three straight circles and banged it on the ground with a fizz. And at once, a stream of fireworks erupted from the centre to make it official. The new knights had arrived.
He liked to believe he put on a good show. Make no mistake there. One or two wooden swords for the kids here. A magical dragon there. send it soaring through the crowd. That was one half of the crowd sorted. Jestro on the other half. Switch after five minutes. The crowd didn’t know where to look. They didn’t need to.
But that’s when it all started.
Jestro was going harder and harder. Merlok expected nothing less. At least he had the body to still do that kind of thing. But one look said it all. His eyes began to water on that same joke against the greengrocer and the archer. As if he could see the two almost in front of him. Their pain shared in what, when all was said and done, they could call theirs. He tried going further. The audience loved it! Yet the more Jestro registered that, the more his breathing began to grow shaky, and his legs began to grow weak.
He had to get out of there.
Jestro knew it himself. He felt as if he could drop dead at any second. The jokes came by instinct. But none of them knew. None of them cared. How could they not care? He was dying here. And none of them cared. Clay seemed worried, but what could he do all the way back there? Everything intermingled among the breath. Head not taking in thoughts. Not letting them go. And when it rains it pours. Two seconds later, he was sobbing into his own hands on the floor. Two seconds after that, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He didn’t know where. Just somewhere quiet. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Where no one could see. They were wrong. They were all wrong. And it made him sick. He had one idea. It’d do. Just somewhere.
Through the castle. Higher and faster. There he saw it. Veins of technology keeping the heart beating. Inside and out consisting of royal blue lined with translucent orange. Forever fizzing with particles as if to respond to the latest threat? What latest threat? Monsters hadn’t appeared for centuries. Even he knew that. It made him laugh out loud. The crossbows with interfaces. The trebuchets trained on a rustic realm. All primed with exact data. Where to strike. Who to strike. How to strike. When to strike. At the first sign of rebellion! It made him laugh. Throw his head back and laugh. For minutes on end.
For beneath all this, beneath these weapons which could shoot for miles and the guards which patrolled like little robots, no better than the actual robots, lay the truth. And that’s when he heard it.
“Perhaps the truth lies in what they call evil.”
What was that?
“Come to me, in the library. And there you can find the solution. There we can make the change.”
He knew about the library. One lifetime ago, he had tried that as one of the many careers he might take. Fresh off the scrapes and bumps of being dragged around on your opponent’s lance. He could almost feel himself growing younger as he ran back there. Forever staring out at the distant moors cloaked in a pall-like fog. The lights among scattered villages twinkling quaintly as the dark clouds drew ever closer. Back then the walk had seemed forever. Tiredness gnawing across the legs before he even got halfway. But today, he could stride there in a matter of minutes. Thanks in no small part to the same messages.
“We can do it together. Save this kingdom from itself. Give Knighton the justice it really deserves. You know it. I know it.”
And he was there. It even smelled the exact same. Squirrelled away in what was now the fringes of the castle. In those days it had been somewhere round the middle. But first came the new armoury. Then the new mess hall. Then the training ground. Then the arena. It had been bigger back then, too. Now he couldn’t be quite sure if scattered, dog-eared books were on the carpet or the carpet itself. Sheens of blue metal and orange energy stopped dead here. Wood and hand-cut stone replaced it. All beams leading to a plinth in the centre. The temptation was almost to pick a book-any book-and read it cover to cover. Then go back to the arena. Utter a few apologies. And pick back up as if nothing happened. Yeah, that would be nice. Really nice. One step urged him on to do just that.
“Where do you think you’re going, you kooky clown?”
The voice again. And there lay its origin. Right in the centre. All thoughts about calming down immediately forgotten. It urged him on the closer he got. It seemed to be another book. Bigger than most. A leathery brown. Ancient gold binding (and it looked as if it needed a clean). Face down. It was heavier than he expected. At least, it was until he felt a sharp bite right on his hand.
“Yeowch!”
The book thudded on the floor, now the right way up. And staring right back at Jestro, on the front cover, was a devious, yellow-eyed, monstrous face.
“H-how?! You’re just a book.”
The face grinned. Teeth fashioned out of old pages. The bookmark its meandering, forked tongue. Slits for pupils and thick eyebrows focusing squarely on him.
“Not just any book.” the book replied. “I’m the book. The Book of Monsters.”
“Wow…for a book, you’re pretty heavy.”
The Book of Monsters frowned indignantly. “I am not heavy! I just-have big binding. Very natural for a book of my age.”
Jestro quivered. The voice sounded strangely familiar. Though he could never hope to put his finger on where. And the way it stared at him. Eyeing him up like a piece of meat. He was very thankful it didn’t have limbs to move or touch. It couldn’t move, but it always felt as if it was just about to pounce. The moment he turned his back…
“And let the disorder continue?”
He paused.
“And let the Hill People starve? The greengrocer and the archer not even able to have their own gains for dinner? The iron grip on the realm suffocate?”
He turned.
“Is there another way?” The words left Jestro’s mouth before he could stop them. And immediately, the Book rolled his eyes.
“Is there another way?” it whimpered, snivelling before twisting its face into a mask of malice. “If there was another way, I might as well not be a book! It’s been this way since long before you were born, remember? Besides, a king should strive for the benefit of his people. He knows they outnumber him. Look at the wizard at his disposal. Once they were the pride of the land. The only check on his power. The voice of the people in the royal court. Now relegated to engineers-barely above the Squirebots.”
“Jestro?”
Clay sprinted in behind Jestro. The eyes of both widened the second they saw what lay in front. All frozen. All wondering who would make the next move. Jestro not sure what to feel. Instinct told him to feel the same flutter in his heart and hope in his soul he always did when Clay drew near. Two steps closer.
“Hey. What’s going on? I wanted to talk to you. Check you were okay.”
The Book of Monsters sneered. “Fool! Quick, joke boy. Pick me up. Page 205. The staff is just behind my plinth. Move!”
Jestro did as he was told before he thought better of it. But he soon did. Clutching the Book more out of stress.
“B-but it’s Clay. I-” a tear rolled down Jestro’s face-“I love him.”
The Book wasted no time in its response. “What do you love more-his plight or the plight of millions?”
His feet knew the answer before his head did. Still never letting go of the book. It was the only think stopping his breathing from taking his entire body out again. The staff almost sent him down when he grasped its ice-cold handle, feeling the dust on it coat the inside of his palm like soot on a chimney.
“Jestro, what are you doing?”
Normally such an angelic figure. Yet now, the spikes of hair atop Clay’s head turned to shadows and horns of the devil. Closer and closer. It all happened before Jestro could stop himself.
“Page 205.”
Throw it open. Runes and images distorting any conscience or consciousness. The staff proved resistant at first. Hand going one way. It staying in the other. Two hands. And one word escaped his mouth to seal it.
“Clay, I am doing this for Knighton.”
First came the rush of cold air. Then the purple smoke. Filling his lungs. Cough after cough after cough. Then the heat. As if a volcano was right in front of him. But that would have been simpler to explain. Instead, in front of him stood a horde of monsters. Thickly clad in what seemed mountains of spikes. Most red-hot iron. Grunts and roars from all directions as they sighted the newfound enemy. Those who had swords raised them, and charged Clay at once. Fire burning whatever books were in their path to the ground.
The Book of Monsters grinned. “See? A little disorder required to purge the current order.”
Clay looked crestfallen. But he declared at once: “Don’t worry, Jestro, I’ll get to you and stop this madness!”
Without hesitation, Clay drew his sword. Taking Jestro's breath with it. A pirouette over three monsters and he struck a fourth direct in its heart. Five and six subject to thwacks clean across the neck. One and two found their legs taken out from underneath as he roared in fury, driving his sword straight through the third and final one. Back at the training ground, that would have been job more than done.
But it did nothing.
One punch from the monsters, and he went flying into a bookcase. Back down with a clang. But there was no pain in his expression. No anger. No steely staring down the idea of battle. Only horror.
“You must understand, Clay.” Jestro implored. “You must. I can’t sit back and watch the people in our home suffer further and further. Something has to change. I don’t know what yet, but something has to change!”
Clay was barely able to say a word. He wanted to contradict. To find another way. Jestro knew he did and he loved him for that. He always would. Sometimes such a love was the only thing that gave him the will to fight against such a nasty, brutish and short life. But in his heart of hearts, Clay understood. And he knew he shouldn’t. the logic stacked up perfectly in his head. And he knew, for most others, it wouldn’t. He knew the right thing, the order, was to grip his sword and stab the threat right through the heart. End it. Then and there. But he couldn’t. For the same reason Jestro gave no further command to the monsters. Killing an enemy is easy. But killing a friend, from whenever you knew them, is something else entirely.
And that is when Merlok came. Clay not sure what to do. But no matter. For the monsters now charged the newest entrant. Whatever ones didn’t target him directly continued on outside. The change had to be spread, Jestro supposed. That was the only explanation. But unlike Clay, Merlok knew exactly what to do. And unlike with Clay, Jestro saw how the change had to come about.
“Monsters”, he uttered through a wildly shaky voice, “ensure that the wizard does not leave this library!”
It looked, at first, as if Merlok had been through this chapter before in his life. Vowing to never go back the second it was over. But he knew he must. So he gripped his staff with both hands. The circle at the top, like a giant yew question mark, began to fizz with orange magic.
“Nexo Power: Hawk Holler!!!” he boomed, whipping his staff in a massive figure eight. With the force of a bullet, and the scream of an eagle ringing in his ears, Jestro yelped as the entire known world rocketed back at least two metres. The wind went out of him on one side, then the other as the Book thumped on his chest.
The Book groaned. “Ugh, that Merloser, thinks he’s so high and mighty with his itsy-bitsy spells. Summon more monsters, quick! We cannot let him get away!”
All Jestro could do was groan. Stare groggily at the love which motivated him to do all this. Still absolutely frozen with horror. But Merlok got there first.
“Jestro?!” Bless him, he wasn’t that fast going forward. His determination, though, could not be doubted. His staff already twirling above his head. High above the monsters which already surrounded him. Their swords already at his throat. Grinning darkly at the prospect Jestro started to realise he was bringing about. Yet above all this, what Merlok said could not be clearer.
“NEXO POWER: DRAGON OF JUSTICE. YOU SHALL NOT BE MONSTROUS!”
That was when the world as he knew it went forever. First came the air. The air which shunted him miles from everything he knew. He barely saw it beyond the orange glow, but it looked like a dragon which Merlok summoned. A deafening roar confirming his exit. His status. Those technological wings rearing up higher and higher above a castle that grew further and further away. What had he done?
Only time would tell.