Jean took short rapid breaths, trying to catch his breath. The air stung as it entered his lungs as if it was pure fire. He grabbed his side, the pain making it hard to stand. Jean tried to remember when the last time he ran was. This stop was supposed to be brief, he was supposed to meet up with a man he had been exchanging letters with and then move on to the next town. A cold breeze blew through the alley, the cool wind felt nice on his face as beads of sweat rolled from his brow. Then a noise sounded through the side street, a metal can bounced and rolled across the ground hitting his foot. Jean tensed getting ready to run and then he noticed a rat spring across behind the garbage. Stupid animal, Jean thought to himself relaxing. He kicked the can towards the rat in frustration, it was time to move, he needed to find a way out of this town before they found him. He turned around and began walking to the other end of the alley and then a figure turned the corner. It was a man, spindly figure, wearing a simple robe. The moon light bounced off his bare scalp like a mirror, as if a crown on his head. He sighed in relief. “I found you, Master. Why are we running? We must go back.” He began to slowly walk towards Jean, an aloof smile on his face.
“Fuck that! I’m not going.” Jean raised his voice in panic as he turned on his heels and bounded away. He gripped his bag at his side, his cloak billowing in the wind, the sound of the man's pleading behind him urging him to wait. All Jean wanted was just to get away from the castle for a bit, to get away from the ceremonies and the lessons his father pushed on him. He thought the tome was going to be a fun diversion from the monotony he felt. At least that's what Ludwig told him. Ludwig was a historian that Jean corresponded with in his free time, a man who studied the heroes of old and the legends long forgotten. Jean found the tome as a child in the castle library, lost in the back sections rarely visited, even by the staff. The book spoke of the old war against angels and the hero, Declan Lucero who fought against them. Unlike the stories normally told however this book told of a defeat. Declan falling to the angels, an entire continent falling to their power and the populace falling into darkness. Any other person would just think that this was a fairytale, a story told of what could have happened but something drew Jean to the story. He wasn’t sure if it was because the book was hidden away, the only copy he could get his hands on or if the events in the book fit too cleanly, but to Jean it didn’t seem like just a story. As the years passed he had almost forgotten the book when he met Ludwig at one of his father's gatherings. Ludwig was a small man, his years getting the better of him. He was incredibly well read and Jean was enraptured talking to him, as Ludwig described his research and then he mentioned a certain book that ended up in his possession. An unassuming book that talked of history long passed and the war with angels, the same book that Jean found. From then on they wrote to each other, trying to connect the dots, seeing if there was any legitimacy to these stories. Jean arrived at the door of a quaint bookshop, Creased Spines sat above the front window in crimson letters. Jean looked around examining the shadows of the street corners as the occasional pedestrian passed by, after a few moments as his breathing steadied he wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed open the door. A soft chime filled the cozy shop, shelves full of books lined the walls and the fireplace crackled in the corner where a small reading area was set up. The store was near empty, safe for a young man stacking a shelf and an older gentleman sitting in front of the fireplace. Jean made his way to the couch and plopped, melting into the plush decorative pillows on it.
“Jean, you're here. Are you alright my boy? You look like you ran all the way here from Fervelen.” Ludwig placed the tea he was sipping, on the coffee table in front of him.
“I may as well have.” Jean sat up, unbuckled the small travel bag from his chest and set it on the floor. “Got into town fine and then some lunatics started chasing me, raving about some prophecy.”
“Prophecy? Do you think it has something to do with the book?” Ludwig waved his hand to his young assistant and pointed towards the teapot.
“I’m not sure, they haven't mentioned it.” Jean took the cup of tea from the assistant and sipped it. The tea did nothing to cool him down but the liquid was welcome after all the running he had to endure. “I just hope that I lost them, leaving the castle alone may not have been my smartest idea.”
Ludwig reached over to the table and picked up a small envelope. “Well you're free to stay here as long as you need, in the meantime here.” He handed over the envelope to Jean who took it with excitement. “When you're ready. It's the location of another book and my recommendation to one Sir Archibald. He’s an old friend, a collector of antiquities. I haven't gotten much out of him in writing but from what I’ve gathered it contains different stories from our tomes.” Ludwig said as he picked up his teacup.
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“Different?” Jean asked. “Different as in same legends with contrasting events, or other legends entirely?” He said while putting the envelope into his satchel.
“Well I’m not entirely sure Jean. While Archibald is quite the collector, he was never one to do much research. I would look through the rest of the-.” A soft chime rang out through the small book shop and half a dozen figures piled through the doorway. Jean jumped up grasping his pack and took a few steps back. A group of men clad in mustard yellow cloaks, their head clean shaven, stood in a row with an aloof look. One of the men stepped forward, the same one that chased Jean through the alley.
“Why do you insist on running, you as the Child of the Sun must come with us. That is what the scriptures say, so it must be so.” The man smiled and extended his hand forward, palm facing up. Jean was not dealing was not about to deal with any of this nonsense, he grabbed the teapot off the table and lobbed it towards the man. Ludwig watched the teapot sail through the air, mouth agape. He still remembered the first time his mother brought the teapot home, small white porcelain with daisies painted on it. His mother loved daisies, nearly everything she owned had daisies on it.
“Why?!” The man yelled as the teapot shattered into tiny pieces on his barren scalp covering him with hot tea. “I will bring you with us, even if I have to do it by force.” The man said and began to run towards Jean. A book flew at the man, then another, and another as Jean grabbed them off the shelf and threw them like weapons. The man slowly got closer as he tried to dodge the books unsuccessfully, as he got closer he lunged for Jean who in response kicked a small ottoman towards him. The ottoman hit the man in the shins and he slammed onto the ground, the wind getting knocked out of him.
“Backdoor! Use the backdoor.” Ludwig yelled as he pointed towards the back of the shop. Jean paused for a moment, and then gave Ludwig a small nod and bolted to the back. Getting his bearings the man rose up from the ground and ran after Jean. “After him!” He yelled as he disappeared into the dark backroom, the other men shuffling after him. In a few moments the last of the footsteps quieted and the shop fell silent. Ludwig took in the mess left behind and rubbed his temple. “Remind me to not leave anything important out next time.” He said to his assistant, sitting back down on the couch.
Jean crashed through the backdoor of the shop, exiting into the cool dark streets. He ran down the dimly illuminated street with all his mind. There was hardly anyone out this late, Jean wouldn't stop for any of them anyway. He didn't know anyone else in this town, he couldn't trust anyone else in this town. His mind raced just as fast as he was running. Who were those crazy people, why were they trying to get him? Was it a kidnapping, did they know who he was? He needed a way out of this town, but was there a coach that was available this late. Jean exited out into a plaza, unsure how long he ran he leaned onto the cold marble of a massive pedestal in the center of the plaza. He looked around trying to spot the yellow robes but saw no one, he was alone here. He took a moment to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. The moon pierced through the clouds, illuminating the town square in its cool light. Jean looked up and saw what he was leaning on, a massive statue of Declan Lucero. He stood in all his splendor, striking a victorious pose with his sword. The hero that ended the calamity, the one who repelled the angels centuries ago. The knight with every young boy pretended to be as they ran around swinging their sticks like swords. Jean took a few steps back taking in the striking depiction, remembering his mother who read the tales of the knight to him at bedtime. He chuckled and imitated Declans pose, wondering how different his life could have been if he was more like Declan. Jean felt a presence and turned his head and saw the yellow cloak. The man was standing next to him striking the same pose as Jean and Declan. He turned towards Jean, the same dumb smile he had the entire time and said, “Are you done running now?”
Jean turned to run and slammed into another figure, he looked around and saw he was surrounded. A dozen robed figures surrounded him, there was no escape. He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Come, we aren't going to hurt you. We need to fulfill the prophecy, you're the only one who can do it.”
What in blazes was he talking about, what prophecy? Jean wanted to disappear, to be anywhere else in the moment but they didn't leave him any other choice. He sighed in resignation, shoulders slumping and began to walk where the man gestured towards. A horn sounded in the distance, the sound of metal wheels chugging along the track growing louder as they approached the town.