6 Unfortunate circumstances.

I found myself mysteriously standing within the confines of a hall full of people, after examining my surroundings for a while, it didn't take me too long to finally realize that I'm actually standing inside a throne room.

Massive stone walls adorned with detailed tapestries surrounded me, their ancient-looking textures speak of history and a thousand stories, sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floor, while flickering torchlights cast dancing shadows inside the room, the air is thick with the scent of perfume, sweat and the acrid smell of the nearby torches.

At the middle of it all, a throne sat atop a raised platform, a symbol of power and authority. Seated upon the throne was an old man wearing a crown of gold, it's unmistakable a king.. but of what kingdom?

In addition, hundreds of what appeared to be aristocrats and nobles sat on elevated benches on both sides of the room, while dozens of people surrounded the king, some were fully dressed in plate armors, some looked like priests, the rest wore expensive looking tunics and cloaks, a clear indication of their social rank.

But that does not matter to me; in fact, my eyes are currently fixated on the king as he appeared to be talking towards someone, and it looks like they're.. arguing?

As I move closer towards them, I began to notice that the people around me does not seem to be aware of my presence, as if I'm some kind of a ghost.

Well that's a good thing right? I can listen to their conversation without any disturbances.

As I draw nearer, the words escaping their mouths begin to take shape and clarity until I could finally understand them.

"But who will lead one of our armies now against Sargia?" I hear the king speak, his voice etch with frustration.

"You've lost a good commander the moment you proclaimed him your heir." A man quickly responded, anger evident in his voice as he pointed his finger towards the sobbing little boy besides the king.

I feel a small twinge in my heart as I set my gaze upon this 'man', everything about him seems to be familiar, like I've known him for a very long time, yet I can't seem to recall anything about him... it's as if we're strangers with a connected past.

"But you're a bastard, this kingdom was never yours to begin with!" The king roared, causing the surrounding nobles and guards to flinch, including the man that spoke just now.

For a moment, everything went silent, not a soul daring to speak. The king, who had realize that he had lost composure, turned his gaze away from the man, refusing to look at him directly in the eye.

The man clenched both of his fist so hard that they started bleeding, murmurs quickly erupted as they stared at the scene before them.

"Father.." The man finally spoke once again, briefly pausing for a small moment before continuing, "No, that would be the last time you'll ever hear me call you like that again."

With a deep breath, the man pulled out his sword, prompting the guards surrounding the king to pull out theirs, the other nobles and priests began to back away as gasps and cries of shock resonated across the room.

"You dare-" the king tried to speak but the man quickly cuts him off by throwing his sword down at his feet, surprising everyone.

"I'm no longer your son.. I never was, today I've finally decided to create my own house and coat of arms and cross the Neverending ocean to search for some land, anywhere but this wretched kingdom." his voice was gentle and calm, yet it can't hide the venom behind each words.

"And.." he continued, "I shall be now known as Aurelius Gre-" Everything suddenly went dark. The words hung in the empty space, incomplete, as if the very universe had conspired to silence his proclamation.

In an instant, the confines of dreams crumbled, replaced by a blurry awakening. Cold water drenched me, shocking me into consciousness with a gasp. My eyes suddenly snapped open, wide with shock as I gasped. The world around me spun from confusion to clarity in an instant, revealing a dimly lit chamber with stone walls.

The distant echoes of dripping water and the creaking of old wood quickly filled my ears, while a musty and moist odor lingers in the air, mixing with the faint scent of old straw, mold, and rusted metal.

I tried to move when a sharp pain suddenly surge from my left arm, with a grunt, I glance down and to my surprise, I saw myself sitting on a wooden chair and my left arm cradled in a makeshift sling.

How did I..

And then memories began to flood back in, the image of those fuckers as they beat me on the ground.. did they bring me here?

With that question, the painful memory temporarily faded away as my gaze shifted to the table that stood in front of me.

Where am I?

As coldwater dripped from my soaked hair, I began to look around, trying to find any ways to escape this dark place until my eyes eventually wandered to the wooden door on my right, though a part of me doubted the door's unlocked, I think it's still worth a try I guess.

But just as I was about to rise from my seat, I suddenly felt hands harshly grip on my shoulders, the force strong enough to pin me down... I'm not alone?

Certainly, that would help clarify the source of the chilling water that has left me uncomfortably soaked, it seems my mind is too tired to give the slightest damn.

A figure then emerged behind me, clad in what appeared to be a leather gambeson jacket while a sheathed short sword remains strapped underneath the belt on his belt, his presence seeps out an air of authority, of someone who holds the very fate of another person, I think his words alone might change my very future.

Just the thought of this brought unshakeable fear within me, my heart beating rapidly, it's rhythm matching with the pattern of this man's footsteps as he strode towards the table, taking his place on the other side.

As the wood creaked under his weight, our gaze finally met and I could now get a good look on his face.

Due to the lines that stretched across his face, I could deduce he's probably on his late thirties or early forties, his dark deep-set eyes seems empty and his expression remains cold. His messy black hair is short, just reaching above his ears, he has a tall pointed nose, casting a tiny shadow down his balanced lips, aside from his stubble, there's also a scar that ran across his left cheek.

Tension hung in the air, palpable and heavy as the silence continued between us, not a single word said.

Should I just wait for him to speak?

I really wanted to throw all of my questions that has been plaguing in my mind since I've woken up in that forest, but I doubt he'd understood me.

But that's when something clicked in my mind...

Those people that attacked me, It was my English that triggered them to attack me, I could still remember how their expressions changed the moment my words left my mouth, though half of me believed that it was me showing an expression marked by fear that finally convinced them to attack me... after all, what could a scared unarmed boy do to them?

I clenched my right fist, feeling frustrated at my own helplessness and weakness.

But before I could think of anything more, the man in front of me finally spoke.

I could only stare blankly at him as he continued speaking in that incomprehensible tongue of theirs, each gibberish that leaves his mouth doesn't make a single sense to me.

After half a minute had passed did the man stopped talking, he sighed in seemingly disappointment before fixating his gaze back towards mine.

"That clears my doubts now, you're indeed a Saragonian, but a strange one at that." He suddenly spoke in perfect English, catching me in surprise.

"What?!" I tried to stand up but the grip from earlier suddenly returned and held me down, sending jolts of pain down my beaten body, I cast a small glance behind me and saw a large bald man in leather armor, a smirk on his face.

I could barely process what's going on that the pain temporarily became irrelevant for me, so many questions to ask that I'm struggling which questions to ask first for.

He just spoke English, not only that, he called me a.. Saragonian?

"You speak English?" I finally asked after a quick consideration.

The man before me rose his brows, surprise and slight confusion evident on his expression.

"English? what's that? are you trying to play with me or something?" He scoffed, shaking his head.

I suddenly felt a mix of irritation and confusion rise within me... did he just denied the existence of the language that he's speaking of right now?

"I-It's not that.." I paused for a brief moment before continuing, "You're not making any sense.. I just want to go home." I suddenly pleaded, a tinge of desperation audible in my voice.

Damn the questions, this is all just a bad dream.

I really want to go home now...

It seems I gave the wrong response as he practically slammed both of his fist on the table before opening his mouth to speak, I flinched at his actions, releasing a small yelp as fear for this man gripped my insides.

"Don't take me for a fool! you know why you're here, it's either you're a Saragonian spy or a Saragonian scout!" He yelled, his voice laden with displeasure and annoyance.

Saragonian spy?

What the fuck's a 'Saragonian'?

Despite my cravings to find the answers of these questions, I held them back for now as I retorted a quick response.

"I-I swear I'm not this... S-Saragonian, that you speak of." I responded, failing to prevent myself from stuttering.

"Nonsense! then pray tell me how can you speak Saragonian while not understanding Artanian at the same time, it's either you're spying for the damn Saragons, or maybe just a soldier that have wandered far too deep into enemy territory. Either way you must provide us with every information you have." he quickly retorted, his sharp eyes bore into mine, seemingly piercing my very soul.

I tried to respond to his statement but not a single word seems to form in my mouth, I have no fucking idea what this man is talking about.

Artanian?

Saragons?

Information?

What is these bullshit?

I've already been through so much in a single day.

The fear inside of me began to fade away, now replaced by a boiling anger, does he think I'll give in and admit lies for him?

What did I do to warrant such treatment?! I think I've had enough.

With a deep breath, I began, "Who do you think you are to demand answers from me? First, some men beat me up in the woods for no fucking reason, and now... I find myself in this chamber with two mysterious men attempting to pry information from me, information that I simply don't possess. Let me make it clear, sir, I'm just as bewildered as you are. But if you're under the impression that I am this... Saragon, as you so furiously claim, or this... Artanian or whatever else you're babbling about, then you're incredibly mistaken. I'm neither of these things; hell, I don't even have an idea as to what they are, I swear it with all my heart!"

I found myself slightly panting by the time I was done. Then with a quick glance, I stared at the man before me, trying to find any signs of impact that my little speech had done to him.

There was only surprise and.. amusement?

After a few seconds of silence, he opens his mouth again to speak.

"Then explain you're language-" I quickly cuts him off.

"From where I come from, we call it English. Maybe it's just a coincidence that my English and this.. Saragonian have similarities to each other." I responded, unsure if my reasoning was enough.

The man smirked, turning his gaze towards the man behind me, they seemingly exchanged a few glances that probably held hidden messages on their own before he eventually returned his sights back to me.

"You're really bad at words, boy." he paused, before continuing, ""I know you're no damn Saragonian, you didn't even have any weapons on you when you're brought here in the garrison. I reckon you're right, you're probably just a foreigner who happens to speak a tongue similar to the Saragons. Or maybe you're a spy whose just really good at making up stories. Either way, our local quarry has been complaining about their shortage of manpower for some time now, their efficiency had gone down to half since last year." he paused, a cruel smile appearing on his lips.

"Maybe you could make a difference there... then again, maybe not," He suddenly erupted in small laughter.

And just like that, every glimmer of hope within me crumbled like a fragile sandcastle facing a relentless tide, now replaced by an intensifying sense of dread, a terror more profound than any I had experienced before. My stomach twisted into knots, my hands shook uncontrollably, and tears welled up in my eyes.

It can't be..

"THIS IS MADNESS, WHERE'S THE FUCKING JUSTICE IN THIS?!" I exploded in a fit of rage.

But that was until I felt a blow land unto my left cheek, sending me sprawling across the floor below.

The impact sent a massive pain across my entire body, coupled with my broken arm and the bruises and sores I received from my beating, it was the greatest agony that I've felt in my life up until now, so great that I want to kill myself and end my suffering as soon as possible.

The two men then loomed over me, their grins visible on their cursed faces, oh how I would love to break each of their skulls if I ever have the chance.

"As the commander of Runderdale's garrison, I found you guilty of espionage and hereby sentence you to forced labor... for eighty years." My interrogator spoke to me once again, his last words piercing my soul like bullet to paper.

I let the words slowly sink in...

Eighty years...

Eighty years..?

Huh.. eighty fucking years?!

"NOOOO! YOU CAN'T DO-" my shrieks were stopped as I felt a kick to my stomach, a strike that sent another painful jolt through my body, I feel every breath within me leave my lungs as I began gasping for air.

"Yes I can.. oh right, whoever made that strange boots and pendant of yours, they really must be great craftsmen, my compliments to them." he said with a smile, bringing the pendant my father gifted me towards my face.

I watch in helpless despair as the pendant dangled between his fingers for a few seconds before he carefully secured it around his neck.

No... that's my father's.

My family's

The blow has left me unable to speak, and thus I could only watch helplessly in fear and anger at them as the bald man made his way towards the only door in the room, opened it before heading towards me.

The man then spoke something to the large fellow in that unknown language of theirs, his voice now devoid of any emotion compared to before. He just nodded his head before continuing on his way.

As I felt the bald man's large hands grab my sprawled out body, my surroundings began to fade until everything finally went black.

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CHAPTER DONE!!