[Al. Stop! Please! 

It's been 3 days. 

You need to sleep. 

Your mind is falling apart.]

Voice desperately spoke, fighting back the insane imaginings of Al's tired mind.

Had he finally done it?

Had he finally pushed Al past the point of no return?

Maybe he shouldn't have bothered Al so much when he was trying to sleep. 

Lightning flashed. 

Twisted laughter echoed throughout the deepest recesses of the Inside Out. The world, once full of hope and light, was now dark and gloomy.

And then...

"Sleep. Sleep?!

Sleep is for the weak.

And weakness disgusts me. 

How can you call yourself a man if you cannot pull three consecutive all-nighters the day before an exam because you know you didn't study for it? 

How can you not question the insanity of the World at 3 am in the morning everyday because your brain won't let you go to sleep?

How can a chair sitting on another chair look so ominous?

Leave me be, Voice.

As I ascend to my throne as the pharaoh.

And strike down this impostor."

With that, Al continued to make his way to the bathroom or wherever else he was going. Leaving his room in a fit.

It looked as if a wild animal had just been in there. Mud all over the wooden floors, books scattered all about. The windows were upon, allowing the cool air of the winter to flow right in.

Outside, the sun was shining.

The birds were singing.

Even the gargoyles looked less grumpy.

The world's rings were flitting about across the sky. Shining across the horizon.

The Royal Capital was every bit as beautiful as Al and Voice had imagined.

The streets were busy with people working to earn a living.

Ships were flying across the sky, transporting people.

Their counterparts on the land, the locomotives, were speeding about the city.

And though they might not be able to see it now, the castle must be shining up there amongst the heavens. 

Voice held back the ominous chair as it was about to bite off his hide. Quickly tossing it into the gate. He thought it was all over. 

He thought wrong. 

A test paper, larger than life itself, came at him, with the intention of marking him with a Fail and ruining his life for eternity. 

Voice tried to fight back, but he was immediately subdued by a group of teachers dressed in dresses.

Right as he was about to be marked for life.

He awoke in the real world.

Strange.

Looking around, he saw himself (Al) sprawled all over across the stairs. Wrapped in toilet paper. Right outside the bathroom.

The inside of the bathroom was recked.

The tiles shattered.

The toilet seat, destroyed.

Mirror shards everywhere. 

(How exactly did they have bathrooms like this in the medieval age).

 A bump quickly forming on his head and sore arms and legs that he was sure was gonna form bruises later.

Great.

The idiot knocked himself out on the way to the bathroom.

Wait.

Shit.

Bathroom.

People!!

As if suddenly possessed, Al/Voice took off up the stairs. 

No. Not possessed. 

Frightened. As if he had seen a ghost.

You see, for as long as Al knew Voice, the disembodied voice had an irrational fear of being around people.

No.

Not just fear.

It was more like terror.

One of the main reasons he never liked being outside like this in the first place.

Voice quickly reached the room.

Before barricading the door with everything he could.

From beds.

To chairs.

To tables and cabinets.

And only then did he calm down.

Take a deep breath.

And relax.

Al made a mess of the room but Voice probably just ruined it.

Ugh!

Walking over to the barricade pile, Voice quickly pulled out some of Al's old tomes.

God bless you Lady Nana for having the wisdom to send the books and tomes ahead instead of having Al bring them.

Or gods bless you, Voice guessed?

This world was weird.

Anyway. 

If these had been stolen by the bandits in Zern City, it would've set Al years back.

Opening up the tome, Voice continued to read up on Al's incomplete thesis.

*Knock*

Magic Signatures.

Al believed that everyone who casted Magic had a Magic Signature.

A fluctuation of Prana, specific to them.

All this tied in to something else.

Before starting on his path to magic, Lady Nana taught them both a technique called the Conceptualization and Visualization of Magic. CVM, for short.

It was a method used when introducing one to the magical arts.

*Knock*

CVM was, put simply, to imagine rules to magic. 

Or something like that. 

Not many understand how magic really works. 

It's weird and almost completely unpredictable. 

However, with the use of CVM, many have been able to sort of add their own rules to magic. 

Making it far, far easier to manipulate. 

Or how to put it. 

It is to focus the concept of magic into something that could be visualized and hence be manipulated.

It was far more complex than that but you get the gist.

And after a few weeks of meditation and soul searching, Al decided to think of magic as a contract. 

The caster draws up the contract, the Magic fulfills the contract at a specific cost; sometimes prana, other times some miscallenious source was the price. 

*Knock* *Knock*

Anyway.

Al took that line of thinking a bit further.

Magic Signatures were then just that, signatures. 

Specific to the caster entirely. 

And so, if performing magic was sorta like a contract that needed to be drawn up and signed, why couldn't he just draw one up and then sign it later.

Or more simply, why couldn't Al create a method of casting magic nearly instantly.

One that would do away with his inherent weaknesses instead of stubbornly battling with them. 

And give him a chance to finally shape and control his own future. 

His own fate. 

So that instead of working against magic, he worked with it. 

And that's why Al decided he would name this method of casting Seidr.

Shaping one owns fate to ultimately achieve a miracle. 

It was honestly impressive. Creating a magical thesis normally took years. Polishing it into something workable took even longer. Taking that workable thesis and practically applying it. Let's just say it would've taken anyone else years.

Al was lucky though, for once.

With Voice's help he was able to cut that time considerably. Coupled together with Al using the Inside Out to continuously beat the kinks out of the model even in his sleep, theoretically the thesis was complete.

Theoretically, that is.

Practically...

Yeah, no.

Nothing they tried seemed to be working.

They could draw up the contract, they could get the Magic to fulfill the contract for a price but they couldn't agree on the signature.

No matter what Al/Voice did, neither them nor Magic was willing to give out a signature.

Them because they didn't really have one, Magic because it needed a bit of insurance first before giving out it's own.

And so all contracts made were in part made by Al/Voice and in part made by Magic itself. 

And the contracts all had a few certain terms and conditions. Stuff like they can't force each other to sign contracts they don't want to sign, or no forging of signatures and other menial terms. 

But still.

None of it was working.

And he didn't know why.

What more insurance could Magic itself need? 

*Knock**Knock**Knock*

Ugh.

This is so frustrating.

Voice got up from where he was seated. 

And walked over to the door.

Quickly removing the barricades he placed.

Before staring up into the angered face of the Inn's owner.

And past his shoulder to see the group of extremely angry Inn residents. 

All of whom were likely adventurers.

One even seemed to be a Knight. 

Heheh.

Whoops.

Oh yeah.

Al kinda vandalized the toilet.

Another part of Voice's mind kicked in, and he found himself closely hugging the tomes as he took a swan dive out of the window and into the snow filled streets of the royal capital.

Thanking his irrational fear of humans, Voice continued to bolt across the road. Slightly saddened by the fact that he subconsciously left behind the reward money from his quest to pay for the damages.

Curse you goody two shoes nature. 

And so as the sun set that day, Voice knew he would probably be spending the new years out in the cold tonight.

*Achoo*

Wonderful.

Just wonderful. 

_______________________________________________

It was a cold winter night. 

Voice shivered in Al's body as he huddled up into himself to get some warmth. 

Al may have known how to start a fire, but he didn't.

And now he was cold, and hungry, and alone.

There may have not been spirits in the royal capital, but the cold still sucked.

*Achoo*

Great.

Just great. 

And it was like this that an old man found Voice. 

The first thing he noticed when he looked at the old man was the pendant he wore on his neck.

Glowing silver. Expert craftsmanship. Almost as if it were not made by a human. 

Voice would've mistook the old man for being a disguised royal just because of the pendant alone. 

The man was dressed in rags, his graying hair that looked as though it had never been combed contrasting widely with his dark skin. 

Eyes that were likely once a deep ocean blue, now muddied over by the years. 

But they still held a shine to them.

Honestly, he didn't just look like any other homeless old man. 

The old man found him and led him underneath an old bridge. 

Voice was a bit hesitant at first but decided to come along. 

Beats freezing out here. 

There he found a few other people, some his age, some even younger, all huddled up next to a fire. 

They gave him a single glance, before moving on to just staring back at the fire.

Though the younger ones just looked curiously at the book Voice held. 

The old man sat at the very center, near the fire. 

And then, he recounted a tale:

"Did I ever tell you kids how I got this pendant?" He asked with a flourish.

Some of the older kids looked away disinterested while the younger kids came in closer to better hear his tale.

"About 50 or so years ago, on this very day actually, I accidentally tripped and stumbled into the path of the King's Royal Escort. 

The King was just returning from an expedition into the Lesser Wilds, you see.

Well then. 

I was run over.

And injured.

And my leg felt like it had been stomped on by a hundred horses.

Incidentally, it was." 

He laughed hoarsely a bit. Then coughed harshly. And then he continued.

"The King halted the entire escort. Personally picked me up and took me all the way up to the Royal Palace." 

The old man stopped to point to the sky. 

And as if on cue, the silhouette of a giant castle in the sky was cast over the whole bridge.

Then, he continued:

"He made sure I received the best treatment. Put me into the most comfortable bed I ever laid my little head on and even had me served hand and foot by dozens of servants.

Me. A mere commoner. Treated as though I was a King among Kings.

Hah!! 

But I was greedy.

I had already been there a fortnight. My wounds were mostly healed and soon I would have to leave this comfort and return to the streets. 

I wanted to get something, anything, that I could steal and get away with so that when I got back to the streets, I could sell it. 

Get rich. And live a life of comfort once again.

I was foolish." 

The old man said solemnly. 

Some of the kids started to yawn, and so he began to pick up the pace:

"I snuck into the treasury.

Hoping to find anything worthwhile.

All I found were books.

Armours.

And weapons.

I was disheartened.

I pilfered around until I found this here pendant.

I put it on and tried to sneak out of the room.

But then the King found me and then-"

*Snoring*

He was interrupted by the sound of the children sleeping.

Even the older children just seemed to want to get some sleep.

The old man sighed before saying, "Guess I'll tell you the rest of the story some other time."

He then walked up the bridge, before standing there, waiting for the sun to rise.

Voice followed him up there and asked him what the King did then. 

The old man smiled sadly for a bit.

He then told Voice the King cried.

Cried!? But for what? 

But the old man only nodded his head and shrugged. 

He pulled on the pendant on his neck, revealing it.

The old man said that the King told him the pendant was a cursed artifact. And that it took his name.

Before Voice could ask, the old man told him he didn't know who he was. 

Just an old man. 

He then further told Voice that without the pendant, he would probably fade away forever. 

And no one would remember him.

Not even himself.

He then looked at Voice and gave him a big cheeky grin.

And what was wrong with that.

Everyone forgets.

It was human nature to forget.

It just meant whatever he did now, good or bad, it would be forgotten far into the future. 

And there was a certain freedom in that.

The Old Man boomed:

"Happy New Year, Kingdom of Peace and Prosperity. 

Happy New Year, Your Majesty. 

Happy New Year, World.  

And Happy New Year to you too, kid."

The Old Man laughed and Voice shared together in his laughter.

The Old Man as he reminisced on his past.

Voice, as he had finally gotten an idea.