Ascension 0

Eight day of the The Month of Abraham, 4011th year of the Solune Standard calendar.

Monarchy can be a very touchy subject for some. It is not for me. Corporations have begun to appear in the Lussa and Djeb realms, and they are akin to dictatorships. What I have in my Kingdom is far more pure. I have been around since the foundation of this nation, I, in fact, founded it myself. Very few of my citizens question or take issue with my rule.

Tomorrow I will be announcing my stepping down, I will be announcing my heir. I have spent three centuries considering all the options. I have made many conclusions. My conclusions are not to be questioned by those who have not been considering their subjects for less then a century. Thus, most of the people in the Solune Kingdom are unfit to argue with my decision, and I doubt that they will. My considerations are thus:

  1. Mortals, especially those with mundane life expectancies, are too unwise to rule.
  2. Those who have eclipsed adulthood are unfit to rule. Their brains have finished developing. Thus, a ruler should ascend before her mind is made, that she may develop with the people, for the people. The Metch mind finishes forming at twenty-five, the Riley at twenty-three, Plainkind, we assume, during the late twenties. The Solune, at twenty-eight.
  3. She must not be violent. A ruler should lead by example and inspire respect. Only brutes lead with fear.
  4. The people must come to, if not like, at the very least respect their leader. She must be someone whom no one us unhappy following, someone with drive and decisiveness.
  5. My one weakness is a lack of progress. I am extremely old fashioned. We have not stagnated, but we are close, especially when you look to the Djeb, the Lussa, the Metch, with their science, trade, and industry. Our next leader must be progressively minded. Youth is particularly inclined to such ways of thought.
  6. Finally, it would be best if the heir is not one of my own children. This might cause jealousy, or suspicion of favouritism among my followers and peers.

I have a shortlist in mind, and yet, only one person stands out… and she does not fit my own criteria. And not just by one point. No, if I follow my heart instead of my mind, my kingdom may fall, just as the Djeb had.

But, would that be so bad? A revolution often brings great peace and change. We will have to see.

Daniel Triumph.


Table of Contents


Jason Arson walked across the rooftops. Most other people in his position may have ran, but Jason was a punctual infiltrator. He was already ahead of his own schedule by fifteen minutes, and his schedule was set half a sixth ahead. Running would actually be detrimental in this case as the longer he stood around in his hiding place, the more likely he was to be discovered. The only real downside to walking was that he had to push harder to jump from roof to roof, but Jason had strong legs, so he didn’t mind.

So Jason Arson walked.

He ran down an alley, thrusting his legs from wall to wall.  He ran, losing a cubit of height with each step, hitting the ground right before running out of alley. Then, he stepped out into the streets, entirely unassuming.

Arson wore a brown trench coat, cut right above the knee. He preferred black, but brown would blend in better with the castle’s insides, as well as its inhabitants. Jason patted himself down, checking items off his mental list.

Short sword? Left side, tied high on the waist. Spike launcher? He felt around. Also on the left side, above the sword. Truncheon? He knew he had that for sure, it kept knocking on his spine as he walked. Wallet? Jason tapped around his seven pockets. Nope, forgot the wallet. Hand pick? Yes! In a pocket! At least he had that.

The last item was his ear trumpet. The use of the trumpet had made him a laughing stock, until it had allowed him to hear a vital piece of information that everyone else had missed. They stopped calling him ‘the deaf spy’ after that.

The inside of the castle was extremely crowded, the walls browned with age. Jason quickly got lost. It is an infiltrator’s job to get lost. He quickly made his way to the second floor, and after making two lefts in the wide halls, he found a broom closet. According to the map he had been supplied with, and subsequently memorized, Jason knew that this closet was only one wall over from the throne room. He looked around. So far, he hadn’t seen anyone on the second floor, and he guessed it was restricted from the public. This was both good and bad. It meant he was less likely to be caught, but it also meant that his presence would immediately draw suspicion. Jason tried the doorknob. Locked. He felt around for his picks, and then remembered that he didn’t have the wallet that he kept them in. He was going to have to get creative.

Jason casually launched himself back towards the staircase, sidling around the second corner. Before turning the first corner, he stopped. He could hear footsteps, and they were unusually jagged, as if they were made by some sort of broken machine. He rifled around his coat for the small ear trumpet. The sounds became louder, and more distinct through the horn, but they still made no sense to him.

He took a deep breath in, and then turned back from where he came. He tried every single door as he skulked down the hall. All were locked. He ran around the second corner once more, and vainly tried the closet again. Nothing. The footsteps were far now, so he took the extra time to feel around the walls for loose stones, maybe a hidden entrance. Again, he found nothing. He could hear that his oblivious pursuer had rounded the first corner. He didn’t have much time.

Jason tried all the doors in this hall. No. No. No. No. Yes. Wait, yes? He opened the door and saw that it was another staircase, but that this one went up. He ran to the top and found the door up there unlocked as well.

“Okay.” he whispered.

Right as he opened the door, Jason heard the knob at the foot of the staircase turn. The odd footsteps had caught up. He rushed through the portal and closed the door behind him, carefully turning the latch so that it clicked silently. The steps got even more unusual, as if they couldn’t understand the concept of stairs. Jason shuddered, but continued trying rooms, and continued to be denied entry.

He was getting nervous now, running out of options. He noticed that the rooms here had labels. ‘Bath house,’ ‘Supplies,’ ‘Crystal,’ ‘Janna,’ and then around the corner, ‘Chloe.’ He grabbed the supply door and to his relief, it turned. Jason entered and slammed the door as silently as his nerves would allow.

Minutes passed, and the footsteps became audible once more. He listened as they passed, and then turned the corner. In an act of poor judgment, Jason opened the closet and looked around the hallway corner to see what kind of creature was making the noise.

He saw shorter man, older than him but not old enough to be his father. The man had dark skin and matted hair. He was wearing plate and cured armour, and had a large sword tied to his back. Was this a guard? No, he was far too wild looking. What was truly unusual about the man was his walk. He looked like his legs were in a constant state of agitation, as if he was dodging gnarls and rocks in rough terrain. The result of using such a gait on perfectly flat ground was a lot of tumbling.

Jason receded back into his closet.

He hadn’t memorized the third floor, so he felt around, hoping he had his map. He did. He quietly unrolled it and looked. The throne room was tall, two storeys tall, which meant that Jason could probably listen in from this closet, if he dug right.

Jason Arson took the hand pick out of his pocket and started at the mortar by his feet. Within twenty minutes he had removed many of the smaller stones from behind the outer brickwork. He worked his way around a wooden support beam, and broke through into another room. In his excitement, Jason hadn’t realized how much noise he was making, or that he had alerted the strange man. He stopped digging, pulled the debris inward, and then peered through. It was the throne room. He could see the King’s wife milling about and talking to her daughter.

Jason lay next to the wall, holding his trumpet. He just had to wait for the King to arrive. And then, he heard the footsteps returning, and choked on his own breath.

“Please don’t find me.”

Daniel Triumph.

Gathering All of the Evidence [ROUGH DRAFT]


This is a compilation of the first draft of the Evidence series.

Evidence is a novella, only 20 000 words long. This is the first draft, a simple copy of all the chapters that I’ve released individually over since May 28. This is almost word for word what you would find in the Table of Contents. If you want to read the final draft, you will have to wait for the editing process to be completed, right now there is no ETA. Otherwise, feel free to enjoy this heavily flawed first draft. I apologize for any grammar or logic mistakes, as this is the first draft, and it is entirely unedited and not at all proofread. Apologies.

One day, this will be fully drafted and finally self-published.

Finally, to hear the two songs that inspired it all, follow the YouTube link:, and then,

You may download this manuscript: Gathering All of the Evidence

Gathering All of the Evidence

The First Draft

By Daniel Triumph

© 2017 Daniel Triumph, Canada.

Digitally published August 16, 2017 on and as a .pdf file.

Some rights reserved.

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