In a vast, dark void, reminiscent of the boundless expanse of space. A lone figure floats weightlessly, suspended in this infinite emptiness. Upon closer inspection, it is the mysterious boy who had appeared after the magical blast. His body drifts as though submerged in an unseen ocean, arms and legs hanging limply.
Suddenly, a soft, almost ethereal voice echoes through the void, gentle and soothing. "Wake up," it calls, the words barely more than a whisper, yet somehow filling the surrounding vastness.
The boy's eyes flutter open slowly, his gaze unfocused as he struggles to comprehend his surroundings. Then, in an instant, a brilliant flash of light engulfs him, blinding and overwhelming.
The boy jolts awake, his eyes snapping open. He is no longer floating in the dark void but lying in the softest bed he has ever felt, surrounded by plush pillows. He blinks, dazed, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the lavish surroundings of the royal bedroom.
He pushes himself up into a sitting position, confusion etched on his face as he mutters, "Where am I?" His voice is shaky, still echoing with the bewilderment at the strange experience he just had.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a maid entered, carrying a tray of food. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the boy sitting up, her eyes widening in shock. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen, her mouth slightly agape. But she quickly regained her composure, setting the tray down on a nearby table with a determined expression.
Without a word, she turned on her heel and darted out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. The boy watched her go, his confusion deepening. "Eh?" he muttered to himself, still sitting on the bed, bewildered by her reaction.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle, a young woman walked through a wide, ornately decorated hallway. Her movements were graceful but hesitant, as if she was unsure whether to proceed. Her hair was a striking shade of reddish-gold, catching the light as she moved, and her eyes glistened with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. This was Princess Alicia, Sir Francis's elusive love interest, known for her beauty and grace.
She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued down the hall, her steps quickening. She was heading toward the room where the mysterious boy was being kept. Curiosity had clearly gotten the better of her, and despite the uncertain feelings swirling within her, she felt compelled to see for herself the strange boy who had appeared in the midst of such chaos.
Upon arriving at the bedroom entrance, Princess Alicia paused. She noticed that she wasn't the first to arrive. The Royal Mage, Angus, and his assistant, a female mage named Seraphina, were already there, standing near the bed. A few maids were also present, standing respectfully behind them with nervous expressions.
"So your name is Akimitsu," Angus said thoughtfully, his voice calm yet laden with curiosity. Though he didn't say it aloud, he found the name unusual. His face betrayed not just curiosity, but a hint of doubt as well.
The boy, who looked both frustrated and eager, spoke up with a determined tone. "I'm telling the truth! My name is Aki, Akimitsu!" His voice was firm, as if he was defending his very identity. "I don't know how or why, but I was on my way back from school and then... then a blinding light came from the sky, and everything went dark. The next thing I knew, I was standing on a burning ground!" His eyes were wide, filled with desperation for someone to believe him.
Angus stood silently, his gaze fixed on the boy. He was thinking deeply, observing every word and gesture. His assistant, Seraphina, stood beside him with her eyes closed, her lips moving slightly as she murmured an incantation under her breath. She was subtly casting a detection spell, a barrier to sense any traces of dark magic or malicious intent. After a moment, she opened her eyes and leaned closer to Angus, whispering, "He speaks the truth. There's no dark magic at play here."
"Hm…" Angus hummed, stroking his long, white beard thoughtfully. He glanced at Akimitsu again, his expression softening just a little. The boy's eyes were hopeful, clearly pleading for understanding.
Suddenly, from behind, King Theodor arrived, his presence commanding the room. With a fatherly yet firm voice, he called out, "Alicia."
Princess Alicia turned around, her expression a mix of nervousness and excitement. She quickly plastered on a wide smile.
"Father! What a... a coincidence!" she said, trying to sound casual but failing to hide her eagerness.
King Theodor raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Hm…" he hummed, his gaze steady. "Don't you have lessons to attend?" His tone was stern, a gentle reminder of her responsibilities.
"Ah, well, Father," she stammered, glancing at Akimitsu and then back at the King, "with what happened yesterday and the mystery surrounding this boy, of course, I wouldn't miss a chance to see for myself." Her voice had a note of eagerness, as if she was trying to make her point.
"It's not your concern," King Theodor replied firmly, his eyes narrowing. Alicia's smile faltered, and she pouted slightly, her eyes wide and pleading, silently asking for permission to stay and be part of the discussion.
"No means no," King Theodor repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Disappointment washed over Princess Alicia's face as she was gently but firmly led away from the room by a couple of maids. Her shoulders slumped and her head slightly bowed.
Once she was gone, King Theodor turned his attention back to Angus. "Angus," he said, his voice grave, "what do we do with him?"
Angus nodded thoughtfully, his eyes briefly meeting Akimitsu's. "We need to bring him to the altar," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "Let the Goddess decide."
Akimitsu's heart raced as he watched the exchange, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. He had no idea what was going to happen to him, but the uncertainty and gravity in their voices made his stomach churn. What did they mean by "the Goddess"? And what would she decide?
He swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Angus and the King, feeling more out of place and more anxious than ever before.
...
Somewhere on the eastern side of Rothrosia, soldiers were hard at work building a defensive post. Some were chopping down trees, while others dug trenches or hammered wooden stakes into the ground to form a rudimentary palisade wall. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the scene.
One soldier in particular seemed to be putting in more effort than the rest. Sir Francis, wearing a simple, sleeveless tunic with his armored greaves, was wiping sweat from his brow. His eyes squinted against the harsh sunlight as he took a moment to catch his breath. He glanced around, his gaze taking in the progress of the defenses. Despite the heat and the hard labor, there was a determined set to his jaw. He was ready for whatever lay ahead.
"Sir Francis!" a voice called out, breaking his focus. He turned to see one of the younger soldiers approaching, his face flushed with urgency. "There are some villagers here who want to speak with you, sir."
Sir Francis raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity mixed with caution in his expression. "Villagers? What do they want?"
"They didn't say, but it seems urgent," the soldier replied, his tone respectful but insistent.
Sir Francis frowned slightly, then nodded. "Very well," he said, picking up his sword and sheathing it at his side. He glanced around one last time, ensuring the work was continuing smoothly, before gesturing to the young soldier. "Lead the way."
The soldier turned and started walking, leading Sir Francis through the camp and past the defensive works. As they moved, Sir Francis couldn't help but wonder what could be so important that villagers would come all the way out here to speak with him. His mind raced through possibilities—had there been another attack? Had something happened in the city?
Finally, they reached a small clearing just beyond the main encampment, where a small group of villagers stood, looking nervous and out of place amidst the soldiers. An elderly man stepped forward, his hands wringing a battered hat.
"Sir Francis," the man began, his voice trembling slightly. "Thank you for seeing us."
Sir Francis gave him a reassuring nod. "Of course. What's the matter?"
The old man hesitated, glancing back at the others for support before speaking again. "It's our village, sir. Strange things have been happening... People disappearing, crops dying without reason. We fear... we fear it might be the goblins."
Sir Francis felt the weight of the man's words settle on his shoulders. He glanced back at the bustling camp, the soldiers hard at work. They were preparing for an imminent battle here, and now there was another threat to deal with.
He took a deep breath and nodded resolutely. "I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, stay here and rest. You're safe now."
The villagers murmured their thanks, relief shown in their expressions, and Sir Francis turned back to the camp, his mind already planning his next move. Things were getting more complicated by the minute, but he knew one thing for sure, he couldn't turn his back on people in need.