How must I move on, from the depths of earth below which holds the monsters of ones which cannot be explained in words. I wish to escape such hell yet bound by the chains which hold me made by my own self, it is only time which can see towards my end of this imprisonment. I am Arthur, king of the new world and I strive for the uniting of peace; the journey may be treacherous and long but hope remains still for a king must stand on, it is by this responsibility I will present my kingdom to its golden era with flourishing riches and gold. Glory in all inches of the world, they shall hear Arthur; the man who revived Vystra. This dream simply dwindled as it became fleeting memory of an utopia that once could've been and slowly truly became a dream which would never be achieved.
War ravaged the plains like hungry beasts, men starved, eager to fight each other in glorious battle; there was no longer a need for peace when it was established, and so with the new era of complete silence endowed the public with brewing rage. When they were no longer cause for war, reasons were artificially made to go back to the very thing they protested, it was only time before Vystra fell. And that then had left me a ruined king with no one left, I had failed my responsibility, and in me I could not find the heart to continue anymore. In a vague distance I saw a lone arduous hill seemed to stand atop of me, a journey which would likely take one a decade to climb,
"This would be my resting spot" I had thought. It was not long for him to make this decision, it took only a few glances to decide, but he knew dwelling too much on purpose would make it too grand, too difficult to do in a lifetime. His glory had to be told, some remnant of this kingdom must remain, and so to be engraved as a myth, legend, old folk tale was indeed enough to satisfy him whatever stories may be told.
The details of my life would be engraved here, for anyone to come across and know of my adventures, they shall be knowledgeable of the great glory I once held, and will be passed down as tales, myths, legends of the great Arthur who swept across nations holding an ironclad rule, lived his end dying honourably in battle as his empire thrived, and would continue so long as his tale was alive. He had accepted his fate to be his new goal, and so came the legend of King Arthur.
The concrete stone, hard at first look but made good pillows if you tried, went a young boy lying down who looked quite pathetic in character. His bones looked apparent from his skin, rugged clothes he worn that fit two times his size. Pity was fed onto the boy by passerby, they couldn't stand the fact he was plaguing the street with his horrid stench, in fact he was kicked just seconds later from waking up.
'Are you awake' said a stranger beside him, nudging the young child up
Muzzled from his recent awakening, he looked around sensing his surrounding. In a dazed state confused from what he saw, he tried to remember what had happened previously but it seemed his memory shattered to fragments. Any resemblance of thought he had before this moment in time was gone.
'What is this place sir?', asked the boy
The stranger showed a sense of shock, in utter disbelief that someone would question such an obvious thing. Naturally he harboured doubt that the boy was wasting time, nevertheless he answered
'You currently are in Vystra. Now if you would stop your clear wastage of time, info even a peasant like you would know I need you step off this premises and find somewhere else to leech off', the officer spoke in a hasty tone,
'My boss is going to kill me if I don't return to him on time' he mumbled off.
'Would it trouble you to let me go just this once, I really have nowhere to go. If so I will simply die. It wouldn't take much for you to offer me a job or even somewhere to live right, money too?' begged the boy
A loud snicker roared from the stranger as he showed no signs of sympathy, hesitating a bit before finally answering
'Head right and then forward, you will meet an orphanage there, them accepting you will not be up to me but heed this warning frail boy, you will break there, they will consume your life and make you into a slave. So if you are lucky you aren't getting in.' A heavy tone carried in his speech
'Well, if you say so sir, but where else can I go?'
Slightly chuckling in the irony that god chose for him.
'Go die in a ditch somewhere and hope to be reincarnated in a world with magic where I'm just born better, luck will not be my deciding factor, it will only be by my own choices and decision which result in my demise sir'.
His scrawny body slowly got up, showing grunts in the process. The boy begrudgingly walked by though in a way that showed his discontent, he likely had to avoid any troubles early on to adapt to his new surrounding. He may not hold any knowledge of the past, present, or future, but right now it became certain that surviving was held at first priority.
As he vanished into a vague distance the stranger had one thought that bothered him intensely.
'Does he not believe in magic?'