FVR
Chapter Thirteen.
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Joel was absorbed in his character page when a reflection in the window caught his attention. Despite knowing that time had moved forward, he still believed he was alone in the castle, and was completely unprepared when he heard a voice from behind.
"Halt! Mo--move, and you shall be incinerated!" A male voice stammered with a wavering authority.
Joel's outstretched hand on his character page froze in place. Instinctively, he began to turn slowly to address the man, but he felt a searing heat from behind, leaving him paralyzed with uncertainty about how to react. He caught a slight impression of a small figure of a man in the corner of his eye, along with a large ball of fire which he held in a shaking hand. Joel could smell the fire as it burnt the hairs on the back of his neck, it carried a faint smell of burning resin and charred coal and reminded Joel more of a fireplace than a natural fire.
"Guards!" The man called out.
Joel heard various footsteps clamoring up the stairs.
"D-don't move," The man repeated.
Joel's heart fluttered. He had thoughts of dashing away, or diving through the window, but his feet remained chained to the ground. In the reflection of the window, he could see four people, dressed in brightly colored fabrics, each holding a fiery element in their hands.
"I..." Joel tried to speak.
"Silence!" A voice demanded. "Who is this my Lord!?" They asked, withdrawing an object which clanged in their hands.
"I know not! He was outside of my chambers when I approached!" The first voice replied, more stern and straight, without hesitation.
"Hands!" The second voice demanded, "hither!" Joel took a moment to comply, unsure of what was meant at first, then placed both arms behind his back. He felt a cold metal wrap around his wrists with a clanging noise.
"Stay still," the voice commanded. Joel felt a firm grip on his arms. He could sense the tension in the air as the four figures approached him, each one with their eyes fixed on Joel.
The cold metal restraints tightened around his wrists, and panic began to bubble within him as he realized the gravity of the situation. Yet, amidst the panic, a naive flicker of confidence broke through, whispering that it was all part of the game and that everything would be alright.
A guard relieved Joel of his longsword, passing it behind him before taking hold of Joel's chains and directing him away from the window. As Joel turned, he caught sight of the first man, resplendent in red, regal attire, adorned with the insignia of a blazing sun, and an orange name above his head, too small to make out. Joel was shoved passed him and to the edge of the stairway, where the guards flanked him. He briefly wondered what the orange name meant, before being roughly grabbed.
A guard parted Joel's hair and rubbed his forehead, "foreigner," he said bluntly to another.
Foreigner? From looking at my head? Joel wondered what they had seen, but was just as curious of the names, Peter, and Henry, displayed above their heads. Joel couldn't see anything else with the system, but he could see their names very clearly when he focused on them. Why can I see their names now? What's changed!? In the midst of the drama, he was unable to think straight.
"How did you enter the castle?" The guard behind asked, his tone stern and commanding.
"I..." Joel paused, not knowing how to answer the question.
"No matter," Joel was shoved from behind. "Walk," he said, giving Joel another shove towards the stairs and the other guards.
The two guards in front were clad in sleek clothing, with a deep, charcoal color with subtle veins of red and orange, resembling the smoldering embers of a fire. Each bore the same insignia as the first, and were wielding a smaller ball of fire in one hand while drawing back their other, as if preparing to release an arrow from a bow.
They have no armor? It was a strange thought, but a passing one nonetheless. Maybe I should say I know Roland? The thought was only brief before he realized centuries must have passed since yesterday, which was another strange thought. This fucking game.
With each descending step down the stairs, his pulse started to increase, and his heart hammered against his chest - matching the pace of the thoughts that burned through his mind. Another turn of the stairwell brought a new face and a new sense of unfamiliarity, even the walls seemed different than he recalled - for what little he could recall from the chaotic ascent he made during the war. The heat from the dozens of braziers didn't help cool his thoughts either, as the fires suffocated the air and pricked at his skin.
The descent was marked by a firm silence. They didn't seem too interested in how Joel found his way inside, just that he had trespassed. As the stone walls closed in around him, Joel's sense of desperation deepened and he began to feel truly trapped, and fully at the whim of the game, which was becoming more and more of a troubling thought than a reassuring one, and it was exhausting.
Joel was shepherded along a narrow hallway, past wooden doors with several bolts and a small hole with iron bars. Eventually, he was shoved into a dimly lit cell and the heavy clang of a large wooden door slammed behind him.
"Wait, what's going to happen to me?" He asked with desperation as he pushed himself against the bars.
"Fuck if I know. No moron has been foolish enough to trespass into the prince's landing before. Let alone a foreigner," the guard retorted, his tone laced with disdain.
"How do you know I'm a foreigner?" Joel pressed, his desperation mixed with confusion.
The guard shot him a sharp look, then laughed inwardly. "How indeed," he replied, a bemused smile coiled the corner of his lip. A few hushed laughs reverberated through the hall from other cells. The guard kicked Joel's cell door twice, startling Joel, then left the room. A thud marked the sound of the outer door closing, and the last sound of life Joel heard for over an hour.
***
With his hands cuffed behind his back, Joel found himself sitting on the floor in the corner of the cell, leaning against the wall. He was unable to open his character page or inventory - for what little good it may have done him. With no natural light and nothing to do but think, it would have been hard to judge the time had he not had the wave timer still displayed: 19.39.50.
Forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven, forty-six, forty-five... Joel wondered how long he might be trapped here, and what would happen if the timer ended while he was imprisoned. The questions loomed over him as the time ticked by, casting a shadow of anxiety which he couldn't shake. Nearly three days had passed since he left home - a little over seventy-one hours to be exact - and he still felt home tug on his shirt. One mystery, however, revealed itself to him as his mind settled down. Being able to see people's names was likely due to his insight skill, but he would have to check that when he got the chance.
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Occasional sounds of movement echoed through the dimly lit hall, along with the faint murmurs of nearby voices that wafted into his cell. A sudden thud echoed, followed by the creaking of doors swinging open. One by one, a guard called for a prisoner to turn and exit. Joel's heart started to race again as he imagined what was about to happen. With another thud, light filtered in, causing him to blink away the strain as a guard approached.
"You're lucky it's today," the guard said ambiguously, his voice deep and indifferent, "I've seen people rot for days before being seen to." He lumbered to the door heavily, each step a lazy movement forwards carried by his own momentum. Joel thought about dashing into the guard as the door opened and making a run for it, but it seemed like a certainty that he'd get burned alive. Fuck... I don't know what the right choice is here.
"Turn," the guard demanded. Joel eyed the exit - a small gap between the guard and the door - then reluctantly obeyed the guard, turning to face the wall. The cell door opened and he was roughly grabbed again, then ushered outside.
They ascended a short set of stairs before entering the main hall of the castle again. Although the furnishings were different, it was the same main hall Joel had seen all those centuries ago. How is it still standing!? Joel wondered if they used magic, or some kind of process to build sturdy buildings. With more time to collect his thoughts since descending the stairs, he found himself freer to marvel at the grandeur of the castle.
Towering stone walls adorned with intricate carvings stood on either side, too wide to be suffocating, and reaching high towards mural-covered ceilings. The murals depicted scenes with vibrant colors of reds, browns, blues, and greens, which danced around a central darkness. A faint scent of aged parchment and candle wax filled the air, along with a smell Joel couldn't place, but it had a dry taste to it. As Joel walked further, he noticed the same paintings of noble figures from past generations adorning the walls, their robes reflecting the hues of the mural - yet none of them were of the outside world. There were no maps, no ordinary people, no vistas of the city or of previous festivals - just the regal paintings of formal men and women.
Joel was navigated brashly through a winding hallway before he found himself in a grand chamber. The doors slammed closed behind him, echoing through the room and highlighting his attention to several people who stood waiting.
"This one here's the last one," the guard said.
At the far end of the chamber, atop a raised platform crafted from molten rock, sat a commanding and uninterested figure draped in regal attire, a golden crown adorned with various gems perched upon his wavy locks. Joel focused on the red name above him, which read in bold red letters, Acmeus. Barely raising his hand an inch - and without uttering a word - he commanded the guard to bring Joel in.
The king appeared to be middle-aged, with brown hair and a thick beard; his eyes bore down upon Joel with a fierce annoyance as the door slammed. His glare was piercing, like that of a father ready to scold his child. Yet, his body language was harsher than that, more assured than fatherly, as if he were completely beyond reproach, and completely entitled to do with you what he willed.
Flanking the king were two figures - an orange nameplate over the man read: Zucher and above the woman read: Isabella. They stood beside the king, exuding an air of refinement and sophistication; their slim frames and tight attire outlining their stature.
Ten guards stood at attention, divided by a dark crimson carpet leading from the doorway to the king's platform; their crimson attire reflected their stoic expressions - their vigilant gaze ever watchful over the chamber.
Banners adorned the walls behind the guards, each depicting flames of various colors and sizes. An even larger banner, depicting the sun on fire in meticulously woven fibers of reds, oranges, and yellows, adorned the space behind the king at the far end of the room.
As Joel ventured further into the chamber, his gaze was drawn to a group of roughly twenty disheveled men: their hands bound by chains, kneeling before the king in a trembling yet silent submission. Their unkempt appearances and the smell of sweat hung heavily in the air, which was a stark contrast to the beautiful and clean room that embraced them.
Joel felt a foot press against his leg, as the guard behind him applied pressure to his shoulder, pushing him to his knees. He heard a rustle behind him, then the sound of footsteps as the guard walked away.
The refined man beside the king was handed a roll of parchment, which he unrolled with the deliberate movements of his slender fingers. He cleared his throat, then spoke in a smooth, clear, and authoritative tone. "For the crimes against the kingdom, including: theft, robbery, poaching, smuggling, vagrancy, banditry, illegal hunting, illegal fishing, rioting, rebellion, defacement of property, and trespassing. By the decree of King Acmeus of House Flame, First of His Name. Protector of The Eastern Passage. Keeper of Hel's Breach. Ruler of Narrowvale, and King of Durnovia. You are hereby sentenced to conscription to serve among House Tempest at Hel's Beach until your debts are repaid."
Joel knelt in shock, his eyes wide and his mouth agape in disbelief, huh!? Sentenced!?? He scanned the crowd for a hint of humor. This is a trick, right? A joke?
The surrounding guards called for the prisoners to stand, but Joel remained kneeled. His mind swirled with disbelief as his confidence in the game clashed with the immediate reality facing him. Until my debts are repaid!? Wait... how long is that!? What's going on!?? He almost spoke up before someone beat him to it.
"How are we meant to survi..." a guard moved swiftly and suddenly thumped him in the head with the base of his hill, felling the man to the ground. Two other prisoners were ordered to drag him with them as Joel watched on, too scared to speak up.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. A guard approached him and grabbed the shoulder strap of his cuirass. "This one wears armor, my Lord. Shall I remove it?"
The king looked to Joel slowly, his piercing eyes blemished with a hint of exhaustion. "No," he said quietly, "it is his."
Joel stood, but his legs trembled with the urge to run. His eyes darted around the room for someone to come to his aid, but they all seemed indifferent. I can't fight these people... He briefly wanted to ask for his sword, but the request seemed insane at this moment.
I have to go along with it and run when I get a chance. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck - he followed the other prisoners out of the chamber and back into the main hall. As he left the room, his thoughts went back to wondering what would happen if the wave timer ended and he wasn't where he was meant to be. But there's a chance this is all part of the wave... The thought was the only thing that gave him comfort as he followed the prisoners to the front yard, but still filled him with a lack of control and a frustration over his lack of strength.
***
It was early morning, judging from the faint glow of dawn and the shades of red that lingered on the drifting clouds. The cool morning air had not yet yielded to the heat of the rising sun, which blew cold against Joel's cheeks. The scent of wood smoke, coal, and ash, mingled with the sweet fragrance of nearby flowers, and the distant aroma of earth felt calming against the blanket of frustration he wore.
Joel looked at the somewhat familiar sight of a sprawling city, which appeared much different from the ground level than it did high up in the castle. The city's tall buildings rose majestically but never towered over his vantage point from the castle grounds. In the distance, the same mountains stood unchanged over the centuries, their peaks kissed by the morning light, and weathered so slightly by time that it was indiscernible to Joel's eyes; they stood as proof of humanities fickle existence in the face of the planet, and reflected his own meagre power. On the horizon, still looming ominously over the landscape, was the same hue which had changed from its golden magnificence to a deep crimson over time. Its appearance reminded Joel of the end of the war, flooding back thoughts of his near-fatal battle, and his own ineptitude.
The prisoners were commanded to stand in two single file lines. Joel reluctantly obeyed, taking a moment to steal a glance at the castle. What was once a single building, now stood divided into three, each embroiled with its own distinct banner. To the left, a simple blue banner rippled like waves in the breeze. On the right, a brown banner adorned with mountains stood firm against the unforgiving winds. And in the center, the red banner from before, with the motif of a sun on fire, hung larger and more prominent than the others, and waved slightly in the breeze, as if approaching nearer and nearer with every movement.
Joel stood near the back of the right line as several guards replaced the cuffs on the prisoner's wrists with iron shackles, then ran a chain through them and passed the reigns over to a person clad in armor. It shouldn't have been, but a person clad in armor was a strange sight for some reason.
"We are to march together," a cold, female voice called out behind a great helm. "Do not falter," her words sounded more like a threat than a command.
With a firm tug on the chains, she began walking down the steps and into the city below.
To Joel, the idea seemed utterly insane - that he might have just been sold off or condemned to death. Yet, under the authority of the king and the watchful eyes of the guards, he felt utterly helpless. I just have to keep surviving, no matter what, he thought, his feet scuffing against the hard floor beneath him as he was dragged along.
I'll find a way to clear this wave - no matter what it is.
As Joel walked, his mind began to narrow. Amidst the chaos of his previous thoughts, one resolve remained: to survive by any means necessary. With that determination echoing in his mind, his eyes focused and his mind fell silent. He took one last scornful glance at the divided castle, with its banners aflame in the morning sun, before he turned to face the approaching city. With each predetermined step, he walked, again, into the unknown depths of this world. One step closer to its truth, and one step further from his own.