PROLOGUE

Mark struggled to pry open his eyelids, but they seemed burdened, as though weighted by boulders. Frustration simmered within him as he made another attempt. Gradually, the world came into focus, the first sight greeting him was the rustic wooden ceiling above. It dawned on him that he was lying upon a sturdy wooden bed, under the attentive gaze of a weathered old man.

“Where am I?”

The old man smiled. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Mark shook his head. The old man was right. While he possessed some knowledge of the world, the only thing he actually remembered from his own life was his name – Mark. Everything else eluded him. “I… I seem to be suffering from amnesia.”

“Perfect!” the elder exclaimed. “The pill worked.”

“What pill?”

The elder seemed unsure for a moment but decided to answer the question. “You slayed the Elder Dragon and were rewarded by Archon Anthemios with the pill of forgetfulness. It erased all your memories.”

“Why in the hell would I do that?” Mark's voice thundered as he sprang from the bed.

“I apologize, sir, but that I cannot reveal.” The elder sighed. “You ordered me not to. What I can tell you is that you suffered a personal loss so great that you chose to forget your past rather than live a life of misery.”

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“You planned on retiring in this small village and living a simple life as an honest, hardworking peasant.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” Mark admitted. He paused for a moment to consider everything the elder had told him. “What’s your name?”

“Jasper. I’m the local herbalist. Years back, you stumbled into our village wounded, on some mission. I patched you up, and we clicked. We became good friends. You spoke of retiring here someday, but I didn't think it'd be this soon. Nonetheless, I’m glad you’ve decided to join our community.”

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“I… Look, I’m sorry if I sound ungrateful or condescending, but I’m just not sure I would like to spend the rest of my days as a peasant. How old am I?”

“Thirty-one years old,” Jasper answered.

“I’m still too young to retire. Maybe the old me had gotten tired of adventure and wanted to live a simple life, but I certainly don’t want to do so.”

Jasper chuckled. “You always had a fiery spirit. Truth be told, I expected this would happen. You are a born fighter, Sir Mark. I’ve got your gear. You can leave whenever you want to.”

Mark nodded. “First need some water to wash myself – and some food. I’m hungry.”

Jasper nodded, returning with a wooden box brimming with water. Mark leaned over, his gaze meeting his reflection shimmering on the surface. He observed a handsome figure staring back at him, with short wavy brown hair, a well-kept beard, and piercing blue eyes. He washed himself, savoring the refreshing embrace of the cool water. Jasper then brought him bread and olives. He wolfed them down hungrily. After sleeping for so many hours, he felt pretty famished. The food tasted delicious.

“Where’s my gear?” Mark asked.

Jasper headed outside of the room and returned a moment later with a gleaming chainmail armor that shimmered in the light, along with sturdy leather boots and a formidable long broadsword, its blade reflecting the room's surroundings. Mark donned the armor and pulled on the boots. He gripped the sword tightly, feeling its weight in his hands. The sensation was familiar, almost comforting. Despite his memory loss, his muscles remembered how to wield the weapon with skill and precision.

“The old Mark is back,” the elder remarked. “I simply request that you avoid trying to uncover your past. Trust me, as a friend, you don’t want to remember the loss that drove you to amnesia.”

Mark nodded. “You have my word that I won’t intentionally seek out information about my past. I am curious, I admit, but I understand that my old self wouldn’t have undertaken such a drastic measure for no reason.”

“What do you plan on doing now, Sir Mark?”

“I’m a good fighter, aren’t I? You did say I slew a dragon. I plan on working as a mercenary to make a living. The coins I earn will buy me food, wine, and shelter.”

Jasper gave Mark a pouch of coins. “Here are some golden coins. You planned on using them to buy some farmland but I guess now you can use them to cover your traveling expenses till you can find some job. You also have your loyal horse waiting for you. Let me take you to it.”

Jasper and Mark stepped out of the house and strolled along the dusty village paths, lined with wooden houses topped with thatched roofs, until they arrived at the stable. Jasper gestured toward a majestic white horse. "That's yours," he declared. Mark let out a whistle, and the horse, recognizing him, trotted over. With a swift movement, Mark saddled the horse with a jump.

“Thanks,” Mark said. “One day, I plan on repaying your kindness in one way or another.”

“You needn’t worry about that. Just stay safe.”

Mark gave a nod and spurred his horse into a gallop, riding out of the village. His new life had just begun.