Benny took to his feet and walked toward an odd contraption. Then, music! It surprised him. How was it that some parts of this place were as advanced as his old world, and yet so very primitive like the music box? The sound was scratchy and unclear, but the music was clearly played by a musical instrument with a terrible record machine.

"Sarah will be down soon, but I do have some concerns regarding yourself," Benny looked nonchalant, but there was a flinty stare behind his polite facade. The old man's heartbeat elevated slightly, and the tightening of his fingers showed he was wary of something. Him, perhaps. Those pale blue orbs narrowed to slits, just so. "It is obvious you have a warrior class of some sort: the scars on your arms are fairly obvious."

Benny glanced down to his arms and saw the faint scars that marked his dark brown skin. Those scars belonged to the cursed swords of the Fires of the World cult, deadly as they were vicious, they were not to be messed with lightly. Not even Jor's regenerative ability could stem the cursed wounds he'd received. It was a painful few weeks when he was forced to let his arms heal naturally.

Jor shrugged uncomfortably, aware that he was certain they would kick him out, now.

When Benny caught his stare, he held it with a force of will that dared challenge him. He slowly asked, "Do you even know where exactly you've stumbled into? Just who my wife is?"

Jor blankly stared back.

"Well, so long as we've got that covered," Benny replied with a chuckle. "It's not every day I pick up an amnesiac fighter in the middle of nowhere. Where are you from, anyway?"

Again, Jor shrugged and looked down at his fidgeting hands. This time, he really had no idea. Jor frowned. The memories were hazy, but it was never really mentioned what the name of the town he originated from was. His parents hated the idea of living there, having no choice but adhere to the laws of a crumbling kingdom.

"And you're also partially blind...," Jor grimaced. "It's obvious. You can see, but you react more to sound than sight any time I or my wife make a sound. And yet... you have crystal clear golden eyes. Fascinating, really. It is obvious you have a class, perhaps even worthy of being a student at any one of the academies in our country. Any fool in the ministry would ensure you get the best treatment. But you haven't..."

Benny leaned closer, frustrated, as his eyes shined with fascination. "Just where have you been?"

Jor closed his eyes and counted his breath. His eyes had been cursed by the Gloom Child. In fact, these eyes of his weren't even his eyes. He plucked it from his doomed enemy and replaced it, letting his regeneration take into effect. It was painful, but it worked. And yet, Jor still could not know why his eyesight hadn't been fully restored, but he had to deal with it as it came.

Perhaps the old man must have sensed his discomfort, and sighed, scratching his grey beard tiredly. "Well, I suppose it might become a problem, considering I found you in a cave and wearing little else."

This time, the old man came to him with a glass of... Jor almost recoiled at the smell. It nearly suffocated his throat at the sheer intense toxicity coming from the damn thing. It took seconds to realize it was only alcohol.

Benny chuckled at his expression.

"A shot of Alvish whiskey," He replied, as he handed the bulbous body shaped crystal glass. Jor took the glass reluctantly. Benny didn't think he was actually supposed to drink it, was he? At Jor's reluctant look, the old man simply grinned. "A good drink should make you feel a little more relaxed, yes? Honestly, I think we both need one. Especially after Sarah is done with you!"

At Benny's amused chuckle, Jor couldn't know whether he should be more afraid of the terribly non-threatening old lady, or at the old man, for putting him in this position.

When Sarah arrived, she was dressed in a rich blue ornate dress, complete with a midnight black furred cloak over her shoulders. It was feminine and embedded with enough diamonds and crystals to buy a small island. It seemed to have made her husband grinning with delight.

"My goodness, look at this handsome fellow," The old lady breathed out, once she finally turned her attention toward him. Jor felt like he was being examined like an item on display. Thoroughly. "Yes. Built like a brick shithouse, pardon my language. Thirty inches shoulders of long, lean lines. Oh my!" Sarah's eyes glittered with grandmotherly pride. "Come along, now. I've called my driver. He should be here shortly. We shall do plenty of shopping, yes?"

He-... no, they were ordered, clearly. Jor warily followed behind her heels, where a wheelhouse landed in front of the driveway. Yes, landed. The pair of horses had wings as white as snow. They were thirty meters in length. The kind of big that weighed a few tons and could casually pull a carriage thrice its size.

The driver had his hands on the harnesses. A clean-shaven old gentleman, elegantly dressed with a two-piece awaited them with a small, polite, smile.

Jor glanced back to the winged horses.

the pegasi looked right fierce. He had no doubt a single kick from either one could shatter a boulder to powder.

Once he settled down on the leather seat, and everyone felt comfortable enough, the driver took off. Jor immediately lurched in his seat and clutched his stomach in unease with a groan.

"Oh, don't tell me you're airsick," Sarah looked concerned, her hands holding onto his own. Jor sent a polite smile in assurance. "Ah, I suppose you can handle it."

Benny laughed good-naturedly, as his arms wrapped around his wife's shoulders.

When Jor looked out the window, all he saw was rolling hills and grasslands. It was beautiful, more so of the rising sun. To the distance, he could make out the outlines of the snow-capped mountain range that stretched for miles as far as the eye could see.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Jor whipped back his head to face the old woman. Sarah smiled gently and tapped his hands lightly in comfort. "Not many see this kind of view up close, not the peasants certainly. And the nobles and clans find it a waste of their time to appreciate the beauty we live in."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Jor nodded, half listening to her.

"Our country is but a tiny portion in a land that never seems to ends," Sarah smiled softly, sadly. "We survive because we are united. We have allies, of course. From the mysterious elves to the stubborn dwarfs, and perhaps even the ever-fickle God-Queen herself in the North. And, of course, there's the demon prince Mehanon who challenges the Spartan King to the South, our staunchest ally. To the demon prince's ever-growing frustration and annoyance, the Spartans laugh in the prince's face and stop cold whatever hellish armies he sends forth."

Jor listened, enraptured by the tale.

Benny chuckled as he took over his wife's tale. "Oh, I remember those soldiers, the Spartans. Every single one of them, a high-level Spartan! Working as a unit, as a whole, and only as strong as they are together, they are nearly invincible in the field. Spectular people!"

Sarah continued. "They say that the Hell God Xultus sent in his chosen champion to drown the world in chaos and death, to pave the way for his ascension to claim our world. And the closest city was Apena, the capital of the Spartan kingdom. An easy task, the demon prince Mehanon thought. Why? Because the city had no walls! Madness! Foolish! Thought the demon prince. And so, prince Mehanon and his demonic armies descended upon the city like an endless tide, scurrying for the taste of flesh and blood to spill for their God."

Here, Benny took over the tale with a whisper. "And before the demonic army could reach the city limits, the armies of the Spartan King arrived, with shield and spear and sword to spare. The Spartan King himself was not far behind. The shield walls of the Spartans shuddered when the demons crashed upon them like a tidal wave, unstoppable, unopposing. Confident in their victory.

But the step of a spartan shall not be faltered, nor forced back. Only pushed, as their feet dug grooves into the ground. The demons' attack stymied, momentarily. And then...," Benny smile widened. "The Spartans took a step forward."

Jor leaned forward, fascinated and excited.

"Ah, we're here!" Sarah gestured out the window. Instantly disappointed, Jor glanced out the window and gasped. "Welcome, to the City of the West. Welcome, to Heaford."

This was ancient Rome, but so much more. The city seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, and magic itself seemed to pervade every street and to its very bedrock. There was no grand schema of wards, or devious wards, or defenses, even. Just... simple magic, pure and simple. Colours abound in every street and house, and sounds, spices, and the hammers of smiths were omnipresent in this tiny corner of the world, but it was enough to have caught his interest. And more.

It wasn't long before the massive wheelhouse parked in a large yard closed off to the public. The castle and the walls protected the rich and the nobles, and Jor sensed invisible wards and armored squads walking about. And once Jor got out of the wheelhouse, he was immediately herded toward another carriage. It was a smaller sized wheelhouse, and only normal horses to pull it. Jor was only simply relieved that these horses don't have wings.

"We're at the market district," Sarah smiled gently. "Here, we shall find you some fashionable clothes to wear, I think."

The market district was gaudy and looked expensive. This was where the rich and powerful frequented, with the means and the connection to acquire whatever they desire, so long as they had the coin.

One particular building caught his attention. It was small but was built sturdy using red brick. The painted symbol emblazoned on the glass windows showing an outline of a figure holding a lute. It intrigued him enough to have caught his attention.

The carriage moved on, the image was forgotten.

Eventually, the stopped in front of an extravagant building, a fashionista of blues and white. Jor was quickly herded inside the building, where a black man awaited them with an ivory smile. Jaune Costa, he was called, and the man was a force of hurricane that doubled in intensity once Sarah joined him.

Benny only grinned evilly, gave him a thumbs up, and skipped out the store to parley for some sweets.

Jor was shuffled, prodded, poked, and measured. Dozens of clothes he tried on, examined, criticized, until eventually, exhausted, he was back in the carriage, carrying a number of bags filled with clothes.

"Well, that was fun!" Sarah brightly replied and turned to her husband. "Wasn't it, dear?"

"Of course, hun," Benny smiled politely, as he licked on his cone of vanilla ice cream. "It was a wonder to watch."

Jor's stare was indignantly flat.

He slept that night, on a bed of pure comfort and silk. Comfort. Since when had he known such a thing? Jor couldn't remember. A distant memory, a feeling, of his mother holding him to her chest. It was a moment of bliss, of comfort and strength. Still, he was more used to the hard stone, and while the carpet was a poor imitation to sleep on, Jor felt safe and sound with his feet tucked to his chest and his arm under his head.

There were times, those moments of weakness, really, where Jor would do anything to feel the warmth of his mother's touch and love. Now? All he felt was cold and dead. His heartfelt slow, empty, as if he was turned onto a machine. He could not, ever, trust his instincts. Death was the End. How could he give his soul to the emptiness?

"This is insanity," Jor thought, as he took to his feet. "I'm insane. I hate this feeling. I should end it. All of it."

Then, the image of that particular building loomed into view. Jor wanted perfection, as impossible as that was.

Jor took to his feet and jumped out the window with nothing but the silk clothes on his back. Still, it was enough, as he spent memorizing the signature scent of the magic of this one particular area. It was still difficult to get to the building, but it was enough to finally locate it.

When he tried to open the door, it was surprisingly unlocked. In the middle of the night? It had to have been a mistake, but Jor went inside. There was a large auditorium inside when he walked past the receptionist area, and he heard the most beautiful sound. It was a cello.

When the sonata ended, the magic was gone. She noticed him, then, eyes wide and lips parted, pale ivory.

That was the beginning of the end, he realized. He fell for her. Hard. And, Jor didn't think he had the strength of will to leave her grasp.

"Who are you?" The woman demanded as she stood to her feet, her brown eyes piercing. "What are you doing here?"

Jor snapped out, frozen. What could he say to satisfy her? He felt like a stalker, a fool bent on acquiring something beyond his imagination.

Then, he saw a five-string violin and bow resting on top of a crate next to him. He picked it up and felt the sound strum along with the length of the strings. It felt beautiful, as long forgotten memories stirred inside his memories. How long has it been since he held an instrument? Closing his eyes, Jor's fingers felt the polished wood.

The girl watched on, fascinated, intrigued, but no less wary.

Jor played a sonata of Beethoven: Violin Sonata no. 5 in F major. The stranger stared, transfixed. And then, she joined. It was magic, as they played together. And they played for hours once the strangeness evaporated, once they put their heads together. It was instinct and sheer passion, and their fingers moved with something cosmic and otherworldly.

When, once the music ended, Jor let the musical instrument rest by his side.

The woman, our of breath and wide-eyed, transfixed, asked, "What is your name?"

Jor couldn't answer. He just stood, head bowed low, and unable to speak.

"You can't speak, can you?" She said, instantly understanding. "Well, my name is Helana Milay."

Jor looked up and tried to speak his name. All that came was a croak, a sound like gravel and crushed stone.

Helana sighed but smiled. "You can always tell me your name later. I don't know where you're from, but there are a few beds you can use. It's late, but you look like you could use a rest."

It was the beginning of his new life. And the end.