My name was Takeus Longclock, enlightened scribe of Infinity. My search for knowledge led me from nation to nation, from kingdoms to empires, far from home. It was in the last place I expected, amongst so called barbarians, that I found the answer to divinity itself.

It is in the flesh. It is in the blood. The bone. The sinew. When I came home to my motherland, when I heard the ticking of a thousand clocks as my sloop neared the shore, I felt a fire in my heart. I had learned so much while I was away, and it was finally time to teach my brothers and sisters the way to the light.

I had not realized those who now ran Infinity were so keen on keeping us in the dark. When I made portfall, an inspector searched my ship, demanding to see my manifest and everything I carried with me. Indignant, I explained I was a celebrated courstman, a scholar, that this was beneath me, but he paid me no mind. He took one look at my cargo, that blessed wine and meat, and asked me for my permits. Since when did we need permits for personal belongings? Before I knew it, I was being dragged out by armed thugs, through my own city's like I was a common crook.

I was thrown into a communal cell with some lowlifes, and for hours I clung to the bars and demanded to see the chief scribe. He could clear my name. They know I'm on an important mission, I needed to spread the good word! The schizoronies in the cell with me laughed at my vain attempts, but they were an ignorant bunch. What could they know of my quest? It wasn't until evening that more guards came, pulling me out of that cell. I thought they had come to free me.

I was wrong. The guards said nothing as they dragged me out and down the stone hall, past increasingly harrowing sights of dilapidated cells and emaciated prisoners. When I asked what was happening, the look of disgust in their eyes and the snarl on their lips told me everything I needed to know.

They figured out where I got the veal and the wine. And they were going to imprison me for it.

Such ignorance.

I was thrown haphazardly into the cold flagstone floor of a dimly lit cell, all to my lonesome. I said nothing as they shut and locked the iron door, heavier and more secure than the one I was previously held behind. Was this my fate? To waste away in the dark corner of this prison, never to share what I've learned? Was this the reward for my quest? What has happened to my home, once the bright beacon of knowledge and learning?

I waited hours in the dim hole they locked me in, silent and waiting. I do not know what I was waiting for, but I waited all the same. I could hear the opening and closing and locking of iron gates, the distant footsteps of the enforcers, and I tried to listen if they'd come closer. They never did, not until the pitch black night with only the moonlight slipping past the bars of my cell to illuminate what little I could see.

Footsteps, heavy. More than one person. The jingling of keys. It came closer and closer. A part of me prepared to lunge at whoever it was that was coming, to sink my teeth into his neck and worship the heavens one last time before the enforces rain bullets on me. Footsteps. Closer, closer. Stopped. Unlocking. My heart was beating out of my chest. The steel dragged across the stone, opening to reveal a cloaked and hooded figure with two guards behind him. He waved them off, and if the guards had any objections to leaving an unarmed man alone with, what they assumed to be, a wild cannibal barbarian, they didn't voice them. As soon as that door closed behind them, it was just me, and that mysterious figure.

Truth be told, I did not have the courage to fly at him, to fight, to kill. I stayed seated on that stone, trying to see his features in the dark, under his hood.

"You've been gone a long time, Takeus," he told me. He kept his hands behind his back, looking formal. I think I could see the insignia of the scribe brotherhood on his cloak.

"Do I know you?" I asked, voice neutral. He knew my name, and appeared to be a learned man like myself. Perhaps he was here to help.

"I'm but a humble scribe, like yourself," he said with a playful tone. "I heard of your return and came as quick as I can... I'm sorry for the lack of hospitality. Infinity has changed since you were last here. All these new laws, permits, licenses... But you're not just being kept here for not having permits. You know that, right?"

I swallowee a ball of spit. So my suspicions were true. Was this an interrogation? I kept my mouth shut and kept my eyes trained on the floor, but the scribe kept talking.

"Takeus, you've made contact with some... very interesting peoples. Cultures that the government is quite interested in. Do you remember the Ourobros?"

I looked up at him, immediately recognizing the name. "The apostates? Those heretics who spit on our culture?" When I was last here, the Ourobros were a fringe group of schizos who decried the ways of our Takeshi ancestors, and called for a reform in the worship of the Kroniissiah.

"The very same," the scribe said with a nod. "They've become bolder. More... organized." He tilted his head to the side before continuing. "They've stolen an ironclad and tore up half of the Schizotraz. It's chaos in the correction facilities."

"By the Kroniissiah," I muttered. Word of the happenings of Infinity did not leave its shores, and so I expected some changes to surprise me. But never this. "How did they even steal one of our most guarded ships?"

The scribe completely sidestepped my question. "We managed to fire at the stolen ship enough to disable the clockwork engine and immobilize it. But it's still essentially a fortress guarding the coast of Schizotraz. Yes, we could keep firing at it until it's smithereens... but command wants that ship back in one piece."

I wait in silence for him to continue. How does any of this relate to me or my journey.

"They want to have you corrected, you know. They think you're a schizo that needs to be fixed. I imagine you've had a taste of... things we consider taboo. I imagine you want to continue that lifestyle without the zealots that now run our home to force you to change. If you help me, I can make sure people look away."

"... Who are you?" I ask the mysterious figure.

"I told you, I'm a scribe," he responded with a chuckle. "But it is not important either way. I'm offering you a chance to help Infinity with the knowledge you've acquired, and in return a chance to live in the new ways you've come to appreciate unfettered. Do you accept?"

...

It was snowy, so far up north. I knew the snow never stopped falling here, at least that hadn't changed since I was last at Schizotraz. The waters ahead led us to the immobile ironclad, guns pointing to the shore of Infinity. The schizos were holding the nearest towns hostage, under threat of cannon fire. But never be the one to take the schizo at his word that he won't change his mind. Our boat glided silently across the cold waters effortlessly, silently, as did all the boats behind ours. I was never a combatant before, but I cannot lie and say I was not looking forward to this with a nervous glee.

"We're close. I see a few guards," the burly man said behind me in his native accent. I could see a schizoronie in the stolen uniform of an enforcer, carrying a rifle and standing guard at the bow of the ship. With a nod of the man's head, an arrow whizzed by before sticking itself into the guards neck, felling him instantly. My only complaint was that I was not able to hear the song of his death gurgle.

The men in their thick leathers and furs took the last swigs of their Kronii Milk, generously donated by my anonymous benefactor. I could already see them become more invigorated by it's holy properties. The captain spoke to the others in their native tongue, in hushed tones. When our boat was close enough, men began to swing grappling hooks on ropes up to the ship, and began climbimg it effortlessly. I double checked that my pistol was loaded before joining them. In the dead of the night, it was too dark to see us. It was too quiet to see us. When I saw their leader, his eyes transfixed to the stars, I took aim. The poor sod was possessed by the spirit of the Jesse, I was doing him a favor...

My shot rung out like lightning from the goddess. He clutched his chest and stumbled back, as the captain drew out his axe and whooped a war cry. The meat barbarians have come, and they were hungry. A guard turned and was met with a knife in his gut, twisting and disemboweling him. The slosh of his organs against the floor of the deck was muffled by his scream. Another guard took aim at the nearest barbarian and loosed a bullet at him... Then another... He loaded a third but was interrupted by an axe in his cranium. The barbarian paid no mind to his injuries, simply licking the axehead and moving unto the next target. Screams filled the night sky, drowned out by the merriment of the foreign warriors. The waters of Schizotraz ran red. Their hunger was satiated.

As for myself, I walked up to the fallen leader, hands shaking with excitement. He sat with ragged breath, calling for help that did not come. I drew my carving knife, the one gifted to me by the priestess of the meatheads, as I approached. I believe he soiled himself as I came closer, as he begged for mercy. I was so excited to get to work, I had neglected to slit his throat first like I was supposed to. He struggled for all he was worth as i slid the blade under his cheek, screaming and drowning in blood as I carved off his face. It was not easy, and I was embarrassed at my poor work when I was done. Only when I held his face in my hands did I realize he yet lived - I promply fixed that with the blade through his forehead.

I arose, delighted even at my shabby work. Rough around the edges, but good enough for a first try. I'll have plenty of opportunity to try again, now that I serve Infinity in this new and exciting venture. I placed the face down unto my own, a flesh mask to terrify the enemies of my nation.

The screaming in the ship died down as the shanty songs grew louder. I knew we had succeeded. I turned to look at the victorious crowd, and the warriors all applauded my transformation. Funny, wearing this mask of another's face, I felt like it was the first time showing my true self.

As we descended from the ironclad and jumped down to the schizos entrenched in Schizotraz, to the screams of terror of the traitors before us, I sang alongside the meatheads. I was one of them. This is who I am.

My name was Takeus Longclock. But now, I am Meatronie. Now, I am myself.