"Rise, esteemed Knights!" commanded the high priest.
At his command, the hundred or so Holy Knights rose to their feet, no longer kneeling as they once were, but standing proudly before the priest on the dais.
"You have ventured forth, conquered the valleys, the drylands, the wilderness, and the desolate cities, and you have returned with plunder immeasurable! The Council is greatly pleased! Tonight, every land beneath the Black Mountain is yours. Eat your fill! And drink to stupor! Be merry, for the hour of your celebration has come!"
The priest clapped once, and the Knights bowed again. They all stood in a half-open space, with marble ceilings rising, and rounding high, and stopping with zigzagging glass edges, where air could enter through. The white, ancient walls had several pillars, circled by brazen thorns that upholded an elevation running around the scenery. On this elevation, were two men—a Knight of status, whose face was inhibited by a white helmet, and a man in royal robes who held an empty glass.
"It dies," said the man. "And it cries."
"Will the usual be insufficient?" asked the Knight, who unlike the other, had a blue fluttering cape, and brazen, sharp shoulderpads.
"It most certainly will," replied the man. "The moon smears a bloody light upon us. It is most definitely an omen. We must be pragmatic, or this Mountain shall perish."
"You say too much," hushed the Knight. "We have returned with captives. See for yourself if any match the criteria."
"Say if they are too few?"
"Then, we shall expand our net."
*******
The young man woke up with fluttering eyes, and found himself in motion. There was a clacking of hooves, a nightly breeze washing his face, and a steady rhythm that rocked his body.
"It's warm," he thought, comparing the temperature of his face to that of his body. Not long after, he found himself cloaked in a thick, furry, black—neck wrapped in a bright, red scarf, and resting on the back of another man in coat, white.
"It seems you're finally awake," Axel cheered, peeking over in a glance.
The man was unresponsive.
"Do you have a name?"
He stared into thin air.
"Do you know where you're from?"
"...."
"Can you speak?"
"...."
Axel smiled at him as if he were a child, and looked away, not speaking for a while.
"Alright then, whether or not you can speak or understand my words, I want you to know that you owe me one," he said. "It took much longer than it should to convince the fishermen that you weren't a fish, but thanks to that, you haven't been diced up yet."
"Fish?"
"Oh?" Axel's eyes seemed to sparkle. "So, you can speak after all!"
"Fish....Where?"
"It seems you're a bit disoriented. I wouldn't want to overwhelm you now," Axel concluded. "Look! We've gotten to a resting place."
The two stopped at a stable, and Axel supported the young man off the horse. Axel released the animal, and then another horse came neighing through the distant night.
There was a woman on this brown horse. Of long, golden locks, a bright, freckless smile, and radiant, blue eyes.
"Me want fish," said the young man.
"Oh that woman?" inquired Axel, who didn't quite get what he said. "Well, she's the one who saved your life."
"It seems our guest has risen," the lady said, halting before him. Then, she got off, and adjusted the red scarf on the young man's neck that had begun to slip.
"You don't want to catch a cold," she smiled. "I'm Fionna. And you?"
"...."
Fionna glanced at Axel. Axel signalled the situation to her. Sure enough, she got the message, and soon they were walking—the young man in between, in search of the nearest open shelter. Unfortunately, there was none to be found, so Axel made the decision of taking him home, while Fionna departed with a wave to the tavern where she worked.
As she left, the young man repeated his former words, but Axel misheard once more.
"Don't worry," he remarked. "You'll meet her again at Old Mary's."
In the comfort of his home, he sat him down on a stool, changed his clothes, washed his hair, and fed him. They now both sat on a bed, underneath a suspended lantern of magically lit fire.
[R.U.F: You can tell a magically lit flame from a normal one by the way the shadows behave.]
"You have rather long hair," Axel remarked. "Like that of a woman."
The young man, however, was more focused on emptying his bowl than on lending a listening ear.
"What's your name?"
*Slurp!* *Slurp!*
"Come on, you spoke twice already. I know you understand me."
*Slurp!* *Slurp!*
"Guess I'll have to give you time, then."
The young man waited till he finished, but just before he spoke again, the young man handed out his bowl in a demanding manner.
"More fish."
"...."
Axel sighed, and then he began to wag his finger at him. "Alright, listen to me young man-!"
"More fish."
"I'm still talking! Sheesh! If you want more fish, you'll have to answer all my questions first! It seems you don't get that you're in a gray zone. I haven't confirmed your identity, and I don't know where you're from. It's still very possible that you're an enemy of the Legion!"
The young man's shoulders drooped. "But I don't have any memories."
"Oh? That's good language there," Axel thought to himself. And then, he started to grow suspicious.
"Well, tell me what you know then," he said. "You remember your name, yes?"
The man shook his head.
"Where you came from?"
He shook his head again.
"Tell me the last thing you remember."
The man lowered his head in thought.
"Island," he mumbled, with the focus of one fixing pieces to a puzzle. "Trees twisting weird. Monsters pursue, Giant too. Hit to the head. Fall. Water everywhere…"
"Sky twisting weird?" Axel reasoned. "That sounds like a dungeon. How did you find yourself in a…?"
The young man dropped the bowl.
"I died."
"...."
At first, Axel looked on silently, being at a loss of what words to say. But then, he realised that he must have only fainted, and not—certainly not, died.
"Well…I do-!"
Bang!
A loud sound cut through the skies. It did startle the young man, who swerved his head sharply to the side, perhaps in wonder or curiosity.
Axel was rather calm. He stood and wiped the mist off a round window with a small rag, then opened it wide to see.
Another colourful streak tore through the celestial black. Faint glitters blazed off its sides, adding a twinkle to the stars up high.
"Ah..the Knights are celebrating," he said, looking over at the man. "Do you want to see?"
The man walked out the door before Axel could. He ran to the streets, barefooted, causing a splish-splash with his feet, and gazed keenly at the fireworks.
One streak arched over the moon. It released a myriad of colours that seemed to illuminate the entire world for a second. These projectiles came from the Middle and Inner City, but none came from the mountain.
It was rather dark on the mountain..
"Aiden," the young man mumbled. "I remember."
Axel's eyes rolled over to him. "You've recovered your memories?"
"Just my name," he replied, glancing back with two crimson eyes. "Aiden."
"Well, that is good-" He paused. "What's that?"
Tracing his eyes, Aiden realised he was hinting at the ornament on his neck. An old, white string that suspended an object beneath his clothes.
Aiden revealed it. It was a rather strange-looking thing. For one, it was a hollow silvery skull that shook with inner beads when moved. This skull had fangs—twisted fangs as brittle as thorns, and piercing as nails, that wound around each other in an unsettling manner.
What in the world is that?
"A gift," the crimson eyes mumbled. "From one I cannot recall."
"Is it a magic item?" asked Axel, his former suspicion maturing into a slight wary. "Or a good luck charm?"
"I don't know."
All Axel knew about Aiden was that he was most likely a soldier of some sort, perhaps from a city in this kingdom, or from one in any other of the Five Kingdoms. However, just as the burly man had said, the armour was in irreparable condition, and he could not discern anything else with it.
But if he was a soldier, or atleast had any sort of fighting experience, then he could most certainly use Essence.
"Why don't you try imbuing your essence into it?" Axel suggested.
"Essence?"
"This," Axel raised his finger and some blue flame blazed off the tip. It burned without sound, and released no heat. A little fire it was, no larger than a candle wick. But calm and violent all at once.
Aiden stared blank-eyed.
"Have you no memory of this?"
"Can I do that too?"
Axel sighed. "It's fine. We'll take it slowly. Would you like a drink?"
"Sure."
"Alright, we go to Old Mary's."