The Duke's Servant
A sturdy figure sitting on a throne in the middle of a large army tent was polishing his sword with a ragged cloth.
After ten seconds of silence, he spoke, "Witch Doctor, why do you tell me this story of ancient conflicts, one hundred years in the past, the era of unmentionable calamities?"
The old doctor hurriedly said, "Please allow me to take your nameless slave, I sense that he has a special destiny which counters the Sky-severing sword from which all ginger originates."
"What can you give?"
Peering straight into the eyes of the Duke, he took out a worn-out book with rough edges from his robes and threw it into the hands of the stubby servant.
"This book contains the sacred chants of the extinct line of Supreme Oracles. Know this, and you shall rule the worl-"
Out of nowhere, a huge bolt of lightning penetrated the roof of the tent and caused Tong the witch doctor to be flung across the room. The Duke grimly looked at the sky.
"The Cult of Mother Sky is approaching."
Taking up his sword and suit of bulky iron armor, he exited the tent with haste to organize his battalion with Tong quickly following suit. Buried in the debris of the tent was the servant, still clutching the book, forgotten by all souls as the enemy advanced.
9 Years Later
"The Grand Priests have arrived" boomed a raspy old voice.
Three cloaked figures sat behind a circular bench of pale gray stone from which they looked down upon the middle of the chamber. They towered over the scrawny figure shackled in chains of gold.
The tallest of the three commanded, "We have given you a decade to make a decision. Give us the Book of Supreme Oracles. There lay the secrets of Mother Sky, if it did not fuse with you, you would have had the same demise as your master, the Duke. What do you thirst for which we do not have?"
The prisoner spoke in a monotonous, disconnected tone, "I dreamt a different reality, as a king admired by his people, a scholar whose ideas changed the world, a person who was accepted, someone normal, someone virtuous. All I seek is the answer to a question that afflicts me with constant thoughts, hopes, and visions of the future. Where is such a soul that I can obtain for myself?"
The priest with the bird mask responded in disdain, "There is no absolute philosophy in what you say. All words collapse in front of the sensations and boundaries of the human mind, an infinite sea of the void. Relinquish the prison of reality which wretchedly bounds you. You will never find that person you are looking for he does not exist. Who has understood where they fall in the plan of Mother Sky, the benevolent destroyer of all realities which we create."
The prisoner feebly moved his right hand toward the priest in a grasping manner, "Just give me the chance to see Mother Sky. Are you willing to see the Book wasted in the hands of an illiterate squire? All I ask for is a clue, and I shall give you the supreme chants."
The last of the three priests who wore a large necklace of primordial fire declared, "Mother Sky exists in each and every one of us. She is the only deity who is stopping the creation of infinite worlds, severing the permanence of our thoughts. Every time an inconspicuous person remotely imagines a world, no matter how realistic or fantastical, it comes into existence at a momentary point of time until it is regulated and taken away by Mother Sky. Listen now, servant of the Duke of the Everchanging Mountains of the North, the knowledge you desire requires you to seek the Temple of No Knowledge. Give us the book."
The prisoner slowly exhaled and reached into his chest, pulling out a shabby yellow book and throwing it up to the bench of the Council. The priest in the bird mask nodded in satisfaction and casually punched a hole through the fabric of spacetime which sucked the prisoner in.
"From now on, you shall be known as Number Two. Go on and find the true appearance of Mother Sky. Never unlock the seal which has been placed on your earliest memories or else you will lose what makes you human."