A minute later, the sound of footsteps reached his ears—multiple sets of footsteps, drawing nearer to his room.
Now Tristan could hear the footsteps stopping right outside his room's door. They seemed hesitant as if the individuals on the other side were contemplating their entrance or preparing themselves for something significant.
Before long, the door swung open slowly, almost in a mesmerizingly slow motion.
Then, a tall and dignified old man with a flowing white beard entered the room, his smile warm and welcoming. He walked with an air of authority, clad in an exquisite robe that reminded Tristan of the regal attire worn by the King of England. Behind him, a graceful and radiant lady followed his every step, exuding an aura of elegance.
A gentleman accompanied them, with Leylla trailing behind. While Leylla seemed cheerful, the other wore expressions of calm composure. They all stopped a few meters away from Tristan, mirroring the old man's serene presence.
Tristan couldn't help but sense the royal aura surrounding them. The faces of the old man and the others had already etched themselves into his memory upon waking up. The whispered words and names that had accompanied those faces now echoed in his mind.
"Son," the old man finally broke the silence, his voice resonating with paternal warmth. "I can see that you have recovered from the critical injury inflicted by Drakkarus's horn. Do you understand the rarity of your situation?"
"Y-Yes, perhaps... I-I'm not certain," Tristan replied, his voice filled with perplexity and barely above a whisper.
The old man nodded knowingly. "Leylla informed me that you only recall your name and nothing more. Is that correct, son?" His baritone voice carried an air of authority that left Tristan with no choice but to respond, "Yes, sir."
"Very well. I would like you to lie back on your bed while the rest of us find our seats," the old man commanded, his tone both calm and assertive. Everyone promptly followed his instruction.
As Tristan settled back onto his bed, the old man and the lady took comfortable chairs positioned next to him.
The lady's sorrowful expression revealed her deep concern and worry for her son. She gently clasped Tristan's hand, her eyes brimming with tears. "S-son, I am your mother... Do you remember me?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.
"I'm sorry, ma'am... I can't," Tristan confessed, acknowledging her as his mother but unable to retrieve any memories of their bond. The lady's sadness only intensified, and she wiped away her tears, casting a glance at her husband.
Meanwhile, Leylla and the four gentlemen settled on a spacious couch positioned across the room.
The old man, sensing his wife's anguish, placed a reassuring hand on hers before redirecting his gaze toward Tristan.
"Tristan, can you tell me your name? Your full name," the old man requested. Despite expecting this inquiry, Tristan couldn't help but feign surprise.
"My name is Tristan Moonstone. That's all I remember," Tristan replied honestly. He added, "If Leylla hadn't revealed her name when I woke up, I wouldn't know who she is or even her name."
In Tristan's mind, he had resolved not to disclose his knowledge of their names. Knowing their identities without any accompanying memories felt futile to him. He hoped they would aid him in recollecting his true self.
"I see," replied the old man, his tone filled with understanding. "In that case, I believe it is only fitting for us to reintroduce ourselves to Tristan, to pave the way for moving forward, don't you agree?" He posed the question rhetorically to everyone in the room, a tinge of sadness evident in his voice. As he spoke, the lady beside him grew visibly melancholic.
Upon hearing his words, the individuals on the couch nodded in unison. The four gentlemen and Leylla rose from their seats and made their way toward the bed.
"Allow me to begin," the old man said, taking charge. "My name is Darianus Moonstone. I am your father and also the King of the Kingdom of Cresentia. Our kingdom holds its place among the seven great kingdoms of Gaia. And in case you have forgotten, Gaia is the name of our planet. My dear queen, would you kindly continue from here?" he gracefully requested of the lady beside him.
Tristan could sense the immense love and respect he held for the lady as he looked at her.
With Tristan's hand still clasped in hers, the lady's eyes grew blurry as she started to speak. "Tristan, my son, you cannot fathom the fear that gripped my heart when Drakkarus impaled you with its horn. But I also felt an overwhelming sense of pride when you managed to sever its other horn and slay the creature, despite your grave injury," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"When you fell into a coma, I thought I had lost you, my dear," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion and tears flowing freely.
"My dear Queen, Tristan needs to know your name and understand who you are," the King interjected, attempting to console his wife.
"M-mother, I apologize for causing you such sadness," Tristan whispered softly.
"No, my dear. I am no longer sorrowful. You have miraculously awakened... It is the miracle I have fervently prayed for," she replied, her tears gradually subsiding. "Tristan, my son, my name is Thalia, Queen Thalia. I am your mother," she continued, her voice filled with love and determination.
Suddenly, Leylla stepped forward, taking a seat on the edge of Tristan's bed across from where her parents sat. She reached out and held his other hand, her voice choked with tears. "And you remember me, don't you, brother?" Leylla sobbed, devastated by Tristan's lack of recollection.
She mourned the loss of their cherished brother-sister bond, for they had always been the closest of friends.
Tristan furrowed his brow, searching for any glimmer of memory pertaining to his friendship with his younger sister, but he found nothing.
"I'm sorry... But I promise you, Leylla, I will do everything in my power to remember you, my dear sister. Just grant me a little more time, please?" Tristan asked, offering a reassuring smile as he tried to comfort his crying sister.
Leylla continued sobbing, her sorrow enveloping the room once more, rendering it hushed and somber.
"Leylla, let us not rush him into recovering his memories too quickly. It could potentially harm him. Our prince here has a formidable responsibility awaiting him once he regains his full strength," a deep bass voice gently broke the silence that hung in the room.
The voice's owner approached Tristan, drawing nearer.
As Tristan met his gaze, the man continued, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Adrian Moonstone, your eldest brother and the crown prince of our esteemed Kingdom, Cresentia. While we may not have been particularly close, I assure you, Tristan Moonstone, that the previous version of yourself would unquestioningly comply with my every command. Therefore, I expect nothing less from... this... new version of you," he stated with a sense of pride and a commanding tone that dripped with condescension toward Tristan.
Despite the patronizing attitude displayed by his brother, Tristan can't shake the disgust he feels from Adrian's presence, despite his limited memory.
'This man harbors malevolence! I can sense it in his aura!' Tristan silently whispered to himself, his instincts screaming a warning.