He gasped at a loss for words, his eyes widened as he took in the majestic sight before him. The old man that had found him unconscious inside the temple not long ago tried to move him, but he needed a minute to drink in what was before him.
So, he stood still like a rock in the middle of the grand staircase leading into the temple while dozens of people passed him by trying to either get in the Grand Cathedral of the Gods or exit it. The sun shone down upon him, warming his skin and illuminating the grandeur of the place.
Below him was a square plaza with colorful fountains shooting water high into the air, creating a glittering cascade that sparkled in the sunlight. In the center of the plaza stood a magnificent gold statue of a man with a crown bowing toward the temple, reflecting the golden rays of the sun. Surrounding the grand plaza were towering buildings, adorned with intricate gold columns, artfully sculpted pediments, and arched windows that reflected the sunlight, casting patterns of light and shadow on the ground below.
Shops and restaurants peeked out from under the heavy decorations of the grandiose buildings, beckoning with tantalizing aromas and colorful wares. People mingled, ate, and shouted in a cacophony of color, sound, and diversity. It was a feast for the senses, a melting pot of cultures and races, a place where anything seemed possible.
What was the most wondrous though, was the people before him. Among the regular humans, there were people with blue and red skin, with horns or antlers and he could even spot some that had wings on their backs. People who looked like demons with massive bodies, curling horns and ashen skin. People who looked like animals but walked on two legs and talked casually to a peddler or a guard. People short and stocky with beards that were so long that they trailed behind them and others, tall and lithe with extraordinary beauty that attracted the gazes of the passerby.
For a moment, he took everything in, the people, the sounds, the smells. His mind was paralyzed, not knowing how to react, conflicting emotions battled inside him. On the one hand, he felt scared and confused, his mind telling him that what he was seeing wasn’t possible and something was very wrong. On the other hand, he felt wonder and an inexplicable urge to explore this magical world. This urge was so strong that he even felt his body tugging him towards the city that he could see sprawling on the horizon, beckoning him to come closer and discover its secrets.
The old man had enough of the people’s grumbling and dragged him forcefully down the grand staircase.
“This way,” the man muttered, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. Under his breath, he went on. “Why do I always have to put up with the ill-fated ones?” He trailed behind the old man like a lost puppy, not really paying much attention to him. He tried to drink in all the sights around him, the peddlers trying to sell their shiny trinkets, the loud merchants with their glossy fabrics that one second appeared blood red and the next cerulean blue, and the people walking by him. One man in particular was walking towards them, and the people around him parted like the sea, as if in reverence to his presence.
The old man quickly went to the side, grabbing him by the collar of his robes, making him stumble. He quickly realized that the old man had saved him from a world of pain because someone else wasn’t as quick and the guards surrounding the man with the green cape beat him with their spears until he managed to crawl on the side of the road.
For a moment, a brilliant green bubble of energy shimmered in the air, its pulsing aura surrounding the mysterious man with the green cape. When the guards returned to his side, the bubble vanished, and they marched on like nothing had happened. The man on the ground groaned and clutched at his bruised ribs, but his cries went unnoticed amidst the bustling crowds of the marketplace.
"My home is not far. Let's go before lightning strikes us from above. And with your luck, that's a possibility," the old man grumbled.
"Did that man do magic? I am not going crazy, right?" The old man laughed and shook his head like he was talking to a child.
"No, you are not going crazy. He was a mage, and when you see a mage, you run away. If he doesn't kill you, his guards will. So, stay away."
The streets they passed were alive with the sounds of craftsmen at work, hammers striking hot iron, and the sweet melody of chimes hanging from shop doors. The scents of freshly baked bread and roasted meat wafted through the air, teasing the senses and causing stomachs to growl in anticipation.
Finally, they arrived at a narrow street lined with quaint, one-story houses. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the marketplace they had just left, with its humble shutters, rusted doors, and colorful flowers growing from window boxes. Children laughed and played with a small leather ball, running barefoot through the street and dodging between the houses.
When they reached the small house, the old man's face lit up with a warm smile. A group of cats lay sprawled out on the doorstep, their fur rippling in the sunlight. As soon as they saw the old man, the cats sprang up and began to meow and purr in unison, their tails flicking back and forth in excitement.
"Don't tell me you are afraid of cats," the old man asked him teasingly and he shook his head trying to hide a grimace. He tiptoed around the noisy group, who looked at him with narrowed eyes as if accusing him of trespassing on their space.
Inside the house, the air was musty and thick with the smell of old books and burnt candles. A small bed with a straw mattress was pushed up against one wall, while a rickety old cupboard stood in the corner. A small table with a chair were placed in the center, where the old man motioned for him to sit.
The old man set down a plate of cheese and fruits in front of him, making his stomach rumble loudly. The food looked delicious, and he couldn't help but dive in, devouring every last morsel with gusto. The old man went about his business, muttering to himself as he puttered around the house, lighting candles and gathering yellowed books.
"You should get some sleep. I must go to work. We will talk once I am back." He nodded while the man put a spare robe identical to the one he was wearing.
"Where do you work?"
"At the courthouse. I serve the goddess of justice, and my prayer ran a little too long because of you." He felt bad for inconveniencing the old man and muttered, "Sorry."
The man smiled and shook his head.
As soon as he finished his meal, his eyes began to droop with exhaustion. He tried to fight off the sleep that was threatening to overtake him, but soon he found himself drifting off, his head lolling to one side as he slumped forward onto the table.
He felt a hand shaking him awake, and as he slowly opened his eyes, his vision was still blurry from sleep. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, and as he turned his head, he caught the first rays of the sun peeking through the small, dusty window. The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles burning in the corner, casting shadows that danced across the walls.
As he sat up, his bones creaked and his muscles protested from sleeping in the chair. He stretched his arms and legs, trying to shake off the stiffness. Suddenly, he jolted in surprise when he saw an ugly cat staring down at him from across the small table. It was an orange cat with bald patches all over its body and a missing ear, and its judgmental eyes bore into him as if he was a stain that besmirched its resting place.
“Ah, this Sir Galant! The most courageous cat you have ever seen.” The old man chuckled.
He inched away from the cat's yellow eyes that tracked him with intense focus, and grimaced as his nose picked up the cat’s foul odor, as if it had bathed in sewage before joining them for breakfast.
“I tried to wake you once I returned, but you wouldn’t wake up even if a banshee screamed until your ears bled,” the old man said as he wiped some drool off his chin.
“Hehe, I guess I needed that,” he replied, trying to hide his discomfort.
As he looked around the room, he noticed the old man had set up a small breakfast spread on the table. Two plates with freshly baked bread and colorful fruits, along with two steaming cups of a mysterious brown liquid, were waiting for them.
Once he smelled the hot bread, his stomach growled, and he dove into the food. As he chewed, he savored the delicious flavors that exploded in his mouth, while the warm liquid warmed his insides.
Suddenly, something occurred to him. "You have done so much for me, and I haven't even asked your name! I am so sorry," he said with embarrassment.
The old man smiled kindly before replying, "Well, from the state I found you in, I can guess you were a little distressed. You can call me Bene."
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He laughed nervously before replying, "Yeah, a little! Thank you for everything you’ve done for me."
Bene nodded absent-mindedly, but his eyes turned serious. "You really don't remember anything?" he asked, looking concerned.
For a moment, he tried to remember something, anything, but came up blank. However, his mind seemed to be filled with stuff he didn't know how he knew. Yesterday when he watched all those peculiar people, he could instantly recognize some of the races while others were completely foreign to him. As he delved deeper into his mind, he became ever more confused. He had a vague understanding of gravity, the orbit of planets around the sun, or that metal is less likely to be corroded in deep sea environments. Wait, what? How did he know all that? He found all these weird concepts and information in his brain, but not the slightest clue on where they came from. He shook his head with frustration.
"No, I have no memories, but..." He huffed, feeling lost.
"In that case, I can think of two scenarios, none of which is good... Either someone, perhaps an enemy, cast a spell on you or... And we better hope for both our sakes that that isn't true, you somehow angered a God and cursed you, resulting in this," Bene explained, gesturing to his body.
He grew apprehensive seeing Bene's troubled look. Until that moment, it hadn't occurred to him that something nefarious could have happened to bring him to such a state.
"And which one do you think is more likely?" he asked, feeling anxious.
"Hmm, I'll admit I know very little about magic. But... it's not just your memories; your body too looks like it came back from the dead," Bene said forlornly. "No mortal can make another one suffer that much. Only Gods."
They looked at each other, both realizing the gravity of the situation.
"But... why?" he asked, his food long forgotten, as he tried to make sense of the situation.
"My advice is to keep a low profile, don't do anything that could attract the attention of the gods, either for good or bad. That's the best you can do," he advised, his voice low and urgent as if he were imparting a great secret.
"Hmm, I think that ship has sailed," he muttered, nodding in agreement but wondering what he could have done to bring upon himself the wrath of the Gods. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the thought of incurring divine punishment.
For the rest of the day, he did chores around the small, cramped house, sweeping the wooden floor and washing the few dishes they had used in a small bucket. The air was thick with the smell of stale food and unwashed clothes. At night, he lay on the hard, uneven floor with some smelly clothes as a pillow, while Bene snored away, making the people next door bang against the wall.
The next morning, after a meager breakfast, Bene handed him some clothes and an old pair of sandals. The clothes were threadbare and faded, but they were the best that Bene could offer.
"Get dressed. It's not much, but that’s all I have," Bene said with a hint of remorse. Shaking his head in wonder feeling lucky for coming across such a kind man he replied. "I don't know how to thank you. You've done so much for me."
"Yeah, yeah. Stop yapping and let's go. We're going to the house of Erling to get you through your trial," he said impatiently, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
"Trial? What trial?" he asked in confusion, his heart beating faster with anticipation and worry.
"Everyone has to pass a trial to determine if they have an affinity for magic," he explained, his voice impatient.
"Affinity for magic? Do you mean I could be a mage?" he asked excitedly, his mind racing with possibilities.
"Don't get your hopes up. It's a rare gift. Only one in a million people have an affinity for magic," Bene said, his tone skeptical.
He was disappointed, but he didn't let the low chances bring him down. He was actually getting excited the more he thought about it, and he couldn’t wait to see if he possessed the gift of magic. As soon as he was dressed, however, the cat ran to his feet and unceremoniously started pissing on his new sandals. He started jumping around trying to dislodge the little demon while Bene was shouting in distress, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Bad Sir Gallant! Bad! Oh no, no, sorry sweetie, keep going!" Bene exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern.
"Bene!" he shouted in outrage, his voice echoing through the small room.
"What? My little fur ball is an old man, just like myself, and has a shy bladder. It's important to unload himself as often as possible! Do you want to shame him for doing what is natural?" Bene defended.
He felt his eyes bulge at Bene's response, but he restrained himself from cussing. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the wetness seeping through his sandals, his mind focused on the task ahead.
"But he's doing it on my feet!" he shouted, his face contorted with frustration.
"An unfortunate accident," Bene said, his voice apologetic.
After much grumbling and a thorough scrubbing, they left for their destination, while he fervently hoped for the cat's demise.
While they walked through the bustling city, the streets were filled with vibrant colors and smells of fresh baked bread and exotic spices. Bene led the way with confident strides, weaving through the crowds effortlessly. The sound of clinking metal could be heard from the nearby blacksmiths, while the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakeries.
As they walked, the sound of laughter and chatter filled the air, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and wonder at this new world of magic that he had stumbled upon. He peppered Bene with questions, eager to learn more about the magical world that surrounded him.
The old man told him that that every child underwent a trial at the age of ten. If a child showed an affinity for a school of magic, they were conscripted and sent to a magic school. Upon reaching adulthood, they were assigned a post related to their affinity; for example, earth mages helped with the kingdom's corps, while fire mages served as battle mages in the army.
What troubled him, however, was that it was illegal to conceal your abilities. If someone were caught hiding their powers, they could be sentenced to prison or, worse, executed for treason. Bene mentioned this casually, as if it were entirely reasonable, but to him, it felt restrictive and irrational. He yearned to travel and explore this magical world and the secrets it might hold.
As they entered the grand plaza, bustling even at this early hour, Bene pointed out one of the gaudy buildings as the house of Erling, the God of Enlightenment. As he approached for a closer look, he couldn't help but notice two youths with golden eyes and clad in white robes. They were surrounded by a fervent crowd, all vying for their attention. He witnessed people bathed in a golden glow that cried in ecstasy.
He couldn't help but express his confusion with a muttered "What?" Bene, sensing his bewilderment, leaned in and whispered, "Godlings. They're attempting to recruit new followers by bestowing blessings." As they walked closer to the two youths, he could feel their divine aura and something inside him reacted, rattling in agitation, just as had happened yesterday.
Before he could inquire about the Godlings, he stumbled and fell headfirst onto the cobbled street with an embarrassing display of clumsiness. Red-faced and shaken, he looked up at the old man, who was laughing uproariously.
"Ill-fated indeed, ha ha ha," the old man chortled.
He went to stand up but noticed a large gold coin next to his hand. He reached for it but then thought better of it, fearing it might belong to a noble or merchant and cause trouble. As Bene had advised, he decided to keep a low profile. He dusted off his clothes and muttered, "let's get going already."
Together with Bene, they entered the house of Erling. In the center of a large oval room stood a massive effigy of an old man with a pointy beard that reached the polished floor. The interior was just as gaudy as the exterior, with gold trim everywhere and heavy furniture and velvet armchairs. Several people walked around, most carrying papers, while others accompanied small children.
What piqued his curiosity, however, was that he could sense some of them radiating pressure, as if the air around them were electrified. It reminded him of the scene when the God had descended the other day in the temple, albeit to a much lesser degree. Bene led him to a desk where a young woman was writing furiously on a piece of parchment.
"Excuse me, miss, my friend here would like to undergo the trial," Bene said. The young woman looked up at him with annoyance for having interrupted her work, but when she glanced over at him, her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Um, sure... Although it's highly unusual for an adult to undergo the trial," she said, nodding in confirmation.
"I'm afraid my friend's circumstances are a bit unusual. He arrived in the city of Verne a few days ago, and where he is from, people aren't usually tested for magic."
The receptionist nodded in understanding and searched through her pile of papers, procuring a long parchment with a list of names.
"State your name, please."
"Uhm...."
"It's Talax," Bene answered for him, and the receptionist arched her brow, giggling. He looked askance at Bene, who answered with dancing eyes.
"With a fate like yours... Talax is the most fitting name. It means ill-fated." He frowned, hoping that wasn't true, but then shrugged. He didn't really believe in fate. He would make his own fate.
He nodded at the woman in front of him.
"I am Talax."
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The sun was beating down on the grand plaza, casting a warm orange glow on the bustling crowds below. From his vantage point on the magistratum's roof, he watched the tiny figures moving about like industrious ants. His golden hair whipped around his face as a gust of wind swept over the rooftop.
In his hand, he held a gleaming gold coin that caught the light with every turn. He deftly spun it between his fingers before tossing it up into the air, his eyes following its flight. With a flick of his wrist, he snatched the coin from the air and held it up to inspect it, heads. It was always heads.
As he gazed out over the plaza, his eyes caught sight of a commotion below. A woman had lost her purse, and people were milling around trying to help her. Further down the street, an old beggar had stumbled upon a small bronze coin lodged between two rocks, his eyes widening in surprise and delight.
A young bard's voice that really caught the attention of the passerby. The sweet melody drifted up to him on the breeze, and he listened intently as the bard sang of love and loss. Just then, an influential noble passing by heard the song and offered the bard a place at his estate, much to the young man's delight.
As he watched the scene below, his eyes were drawn to a robed figure who had stumbled and fallen in the street. The man's gaze landed on the gold coin, but to his surprise, he left it there, walking away without a second glance. The youth chuckled to himself as he realized the coin was tails up, and then his eyes rounded in surprise. It was tails up!
With a mischievous grin, he pocketed his own gold coin and lay back on the rooftop, enjoying the cool breeze on his face.
He had come.