The Hosleare Estate | The Silver Alps: I

Nearly three weeks have passed since James rose from a plush bed, his body adorned in a floral satin robe belted around his waist over a matching pair of satin shorts. He'd forgotten himself entirely and roamed the enormous palace alarmed and fierce.

A mysterious force had coaxed him into the botanical arcades where he encountered a large serpent with beautiful obsidian scales and sporting three sharp horned ridgings running down its spine.

James had little time to register what was happening to him when he felt a sharp pain in his neck. He freezes and surrenders to his fate, collapsing onto his back with an audible thud.

The heavy serpent slithers under his neck, raising his head. Slowly the serpent places its glottis on his forehead.

A dark cosmic veil from above and below the borders of James' vision and senses close in around his consciousness.

'Do not sleep, there will be great pain, and then ecstasy.'

He lay there in paralyzing wonderment of that voice until he realizes it belongs to the serpent. He feels incredibly heavy. His body is turning into liquid.

Then a pulse. That single beat of his heart moves the venom through his veins. It creates an indescribable pain, so unbearable he was grateful for his paralyzation. If he'd so much as twitched, it would speed up the procession of venom.

Each heartbeat was an endless electrical discharge of pain. No fear, no happiness, no anger, no anxiety, no guilt, no aspects of the mind could overpower this kind of pain. Time slows down, shattering his perspective, and lifetimes pass before another painful beat, then another.

Very slowly everything he considers as himself, his many perspectives, unconscious and conscious, erodes. Then that to, subsides. The one feeling pain no longer exists, only the subtle pulses of a heartbeat.

He understands for a time, drifting in the waves of his beating heart, drifting in the infinite sea of ecstasy.

Before him, far away, the gold outline of the serpent emerges from depths of darkness. Its head comes closer, and closer, and closer.

The serpent is enormous and loops around him in wide circles, its obsidian scales draws him in. He drifts into them and witnesses himself in the crystalline depths of each scale playing out like four dimensional film.

A harmonic reverberation explodes all around him, engulfing everything in and outside of him.

He could feel once again. Feel the subtlest particles taking the form of those harmonic sounds. Trillions of trillions of subtle particles. Then larger particles take form of the subtler particles taking form of sound. Like this it continues, until the outline of his physical form appears.

The surface of his physical form vibrantly glows every possible shade of blue with dancing white swirls. The gold outline of the obsidian serpent is added with white, and the inner dimension of its scales show him the entirety of his lifetime up until losing it.

The looping form of the serpent thins and at last its tail drifts past.

He hypnotizes himself as it slowly vanishes into a single point far into the depths of space.

Suddenly he feels himself falling backward, his speed steadily climbing to such an intensity that he incinerates.

James jolted upright, his senses so refined, there existed no delay in his mind or actions. His movements are swift, deliberate, and light. He stands surprised to find the serpent draped around his shoulders. It raises its head to meet his eyes.

"Nagahshya."

The serpent flickers its tongue and slithers down his body. He assists her down in a comforting and familiar motion.

Nagashya undulates into the garden to resume hunting.

He knew at that moment the serpent had done him a service he could never repay.

Had it not been for his familiar, he would have been through quite an ordeal, and although he now knew he could never truly regain his true memories or identities, he knew enough of his former life here to resume his position at the Hosleare estate without raising suspicions.

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James sits in a slightly hunched posture, poring over the details of the past year recorded in a journal he discovered locked away in the top drawer of his desk.

His former identity had recorded only the most important events, including the most troublesome servants and guards, in detail. According to it, he had only been employed at the estate for three and half years. Five years prior to that, he had caught the attention of the Marquis Dion Al'ahn Hosleare.

At the time the Marquis had taken him in as a playmate for his daughter Lucille, though that period he chose to ignore, seeing as this Lucille wasn't around and he'd yet to meet the Marquis in person.

The most important task in need of attendance was the theft of a chest containing a fortune. Though this fortune, James had emphasized in his journal, was of little importance. It was the shard inside the chest.

He shuts the journal.

Every day since that first awakening, when all matters of the estate were attended to, he isolated himself in Hosleare's study with Naga to keep him company. He spent long hours into the night reading and poring over thick tomes, the journals of the estate's previous owners, and of their high ranking servants. Last night in particular he'd read long into the night, the brandy in his crystal tumbler untouched.

In the journals of one of these former owners, she had mentioned a dazzling gemstone she referred to as 'deifacted shard,' this immediately galvanized him onto his feet, his gaze instinctively searching the collection of literature housed in the bookshelf aligning the wall.

He climbed the rolling ladder, picked out a few books he assumed might contain pertinent information, and tossed them onto the ground, startling Nagashya coiled next to the marble fireplace.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

James climbed down and by another stroke of luck, had accidentally slipped out an onyx tome with a title that read 'Sohmnias.' When he stooped down to return it, he noticed it had no author to claim it.

With increasing curiosity, he flipped through the pages and realized this also was a journal, although not the typical kind that recounted mundane events and details. This one contained diagrams, detailed text, instructions, and theoretical data that made little sense to him. It included maps of unknown regions.

By that point all concerns of the deifacted shard disappeared from his mind. He nestled in the damask wingback next to Nagashya and began absorbing the journal. When he finally closed the book the first light of dawn filled the study. His eyes were exhausted but his mind was still alert, always alert, even in sleep.

There came a knock at the door, followed by Garrett's announcement of himself. "Enter," James responds, returning the tomes to their proper places.

A portion of the bookshelf shudders and opens to reveal a masculine palatial guard in liveried uniform.

"Welcome back Garrett, any worthwhile news?" James barely acknowledges him with a curt nod.

Garrett scratches his rough ginger beard. "They're in Borintas just like you expected."

The corner of James' mouth twitches. "And you apprehended the thieves like I'd ordered?"

Garrett doesn't answer.

James grabs the tumbler from the desk. "Care for a drink?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind." Garrett seats himself where James had been reading. "I just came back, been traveling all night."

James hands him the tumbler, then lounges in the chair behind the desk. "So why have you failed me this simple task?"

Garrett brings the tumbler to his lips and sighs. "Listen man, they're armed and I'm not gonna risk my life for something you know nothing about."

James frowns. "The Marquis has ordered it, not me." He smiles. "You were hired to protect it, and when he returns from the Summit, I won't be the only one punished, all of the guard will." He pours himself a fresh tumbler of brandy and offers to refill Garrett's drink.

The ginger nods and waits for him to finish pouring. "I didn't ask for any of this, the me with memories did."

"Quite unfortunate I know," James places the brandy bottle on the mantelpiece and occupies the matching chair next to Garrett. "However, that uniform, including the handsome salary that comes with it, requires a certain degree of service which is expected of you." He sips from his tumbler.

Garrett inspects the gold liquid in his tumbler. "I know, and I'm sorry." He downs the glass, reaches the bottle and pours himself another. "If it were just the two of them, I could take them, but they're always with this tall guy with red skin and weird tattoos that never stay one color."

James becomes alert. Nagashya smells this sudden change in his body's chemistry and shifts in her coiled position.

This alarms the ginger and he deftly catches the brandy before it shatters.

"That 'guy with red skin' is a dalkarian. The oldest peoples of Eldaeoryai."

Garrett sends him a blank unblinking stare.

"Never mind. You were right not to confront them." James finishes his drink and gestures for the ginger to refill it. "Probably the wisest thing you've done since we met." He grins toward the ginger and ambles to the tracery windows with drink in hand. "This unnecessarily complicates our predicament."

At that moment there came another knock at the door followed by barely audible footsteps.

"Loraunt!" James exclaims. He doesn't turn around to greet the dark hooded figure concealing his face beneath a dark neck gaiter. "Take a seat, would you like a drink? That is, if Garrett hasn't emptied the bottle." He returns to the desk and stacks the journal of Sohmnias onto his own.

The towering figure of Loraunt is awkward next to Garrett, drink in hand, and Nagashya coiled at his side.

The serpent only tolerated certain people, and Garrett's hyperactive chemistry annoyed her.

Loraunt lowers his mask, revealing a dark complected triangular face with perceptive amber eyes that sparkles in the dawn light.

"I take it you haven't had any luck in the north?" James states more than asks.

Loraunt nods curtly in response.

Of the three of them, Loraunt had woken at an earlier time, six years earlier to be precise. Only through a fortuitous coincidence had he been hired as a secret operative for the Marquis. Though in spite of the extra time he had to adjust, he claimed to have made little to no progress with his amnesia.

James had his suspicions the krishkalvarri had the foresight to see that the butler who did not recognize him at the time, would one day wake up in a familiar state of amnesia. Though he'd never ask Loraunt this himself, to him, their former lives weren't necessary, they couldn't regain them anyway.

"Garrett has confirmed my suspicions that the two went south. The savage looking wildling mentioned in my journal, and the peasant Moritz, are in Borintass."

Garrett shifts in his seat. "I had a good look at the other guy with Moritz, and there's no doubt it's Noaki."

Loraunt and James' eyes flash with recognition.

"Ah, that might make things easier for us." James sips. "However, if they revealed this shard to their dalkarian companion, our predicament is made even more difficult."

"Dalkariyahn?" Loraunt says with a heavy accent, he finishes his glass and gestures to Garrett for another. "I've had dealings vith dheir kind."

"As you already know, I haven't. Tell me, with our combined strength-" Garret coughs. Ignoring him, he continues. "Will we have a chance to take them head on?"

Loraunt's expression becomes thoughtful. "D'at vill depend on many variables." He empties his tumbler and gestures for another. "Dalkari, like Alvarri, live very long." He empties another glass and gestures for another. "I meet some alive longer dhan d'is many," he raises three fingers, "generations of 'eums. Your lives, very short." He grins, finishes his glass, and gestures for another.

Garrett, visibly annoyed, hands him the bottle.

Loraunt pats Garret's shoulder in an amiable fashion. "If 'ee is strong Dalkariyahn. Fire-ed 'ear, no chance." He points to his chest. "Me, no chance." With open palms indicating James, "and serpent lord, no chance." He reaches down to pet Nagahshyah, and to Garret's surprise the serpent allows him. "Nagahshyah, best chance. "He enunciates her name in perfect alvarrian. "Vise, strong, even all us, no chance against Nagahshyah. Ja?"

The serpent nudges her head affectionately against Loraunt's wrist before coiling herself again.

Loraunt pours himself another glass, his Alvarrian metabolism hardly afflicted by the brandy. "No. We need to use," he taps his temple with a finger.

James expected as much and thanks Loraunt for his input, he knew the Krishkalvarri did not like to speak because of his accent.

James did not speak for a long time, his mind rapidly processing information. The only sounds were coming from the fireplace and the clinking of glass. While his thoughts go through multiple scenarios, he leans his elbows on the desk, his fingertips meeting in wide arcs. Through the gaps of his fingers he sees the Sohmnias journal. His mind speeds in rapid succession, everything comes together and he smiles.

When he finally speaks, the other two had emptied the entire bottle and were opening a new one. In spite of his earlier jab at Garrett, they all knew these bottles wouldn't be missed. In fact the bottles in this room would be replaced before they left for Borintas that afternoon.

James s straightens his posture, cracks his neck, and lays out his plans.