The moon was at its cosmic zenith.
Henry Savoy and the Griffon's Grace, except for Kagezo, who hadn't come back, were loose with each other. The Apricia brandy had been exquisite, as fine as its former self, and much of their time together had been accompanied by it.
The bundle of wine bottles was dwindling slowly. There must have been only six left. They'd drunk most of it tonight. Although adventurers, their tolerance for alcohol was weak. They hadn't built one, after all.
Phenix began telling tales, Fortiana laughed, and so did the silent and meek Ammonete.
"...and that's when I fought off a pack of direwolves alone!" Phenix proclaimed, slurring ever so slightly, arms wide as he gestured dramatically.
"I believe it," Fortiana said, rolling her eyes but smiling, nonetheless. "You're the one who nearly tripped over your own feet trying to catch that rat."
"I was simply testing my reflexes!" Phenix shot back, feigning offense.
"Right," Henry chimed in, snorting with laughter. "And the rat won, hands down. Your Waterloo is a rat."
Everyone looked at him, curious and drunk.
"What's a Waterloo?" asked Fortiana.
Henry's laughter died down when he realized he'd used an expression entirely alien to Tearh. Fortunately, he was quick-witted and thought up an explanation immediately. "Once, there was a great leader of men. He won numerous battles and wars with tactics. Most of the time, he was outnumbered and yet still obliterated his enemies. But one time, in the Battle of Waterloo, because he was aging and a bit air-headed, he lost it all. His mighty empire fell, and he was exiled to an island where he died."
"What was his name? I surely must've heard or read of him," said Phenix. "I am the tactician and leader of this band, after all."
"Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte," Henry Savoy smirked. "But that's only a tale."
"Ah, that's why. I'd know of him if he were that great," Phenix chuckled. "The only one who'd come close to him in reality would be Alexandros the Worldbearer."
Ah, yes, Alexandros the Worldbearer.
Henry Savoy remembered that man from a book he'd read in his room before leaving Oberden. The title struck him as someone important, so he remembered it, along with those golden locks and familiar gaze.
Henry Savoy took a sip of his Apricia brandy and asked, "Tell me, what did this Alexandros do that's so special?"
"First the King of Rot, now Alexandros the Worldbearer? What else don't you know, Henry?" Ammonete interjected, sighing. "Alexandros the Worldbearer was an Otherworlder. He was summoned by the Ceiboans from the West at the end of the Age of Dawn. He was a skilled tactician and conqueror who unified most of Tearh. From my knowledge, he's the only Otherworlder to become an emperor."
This was sounding very, very familiar.
"I have a question. Was Alexandros the Worldbearer fond of claiming he was divine? And did he throw lavish banquets in the middle of his conquests?" Henry Savoy asked them gravely.
"To my knowledge, yes, and he was obsessed with stacking fruit juices. Perhaps he was trying to do what you're doing," Ammonete raised her eyebrow, suspicious of Henry Savoy. "How is it that you know his quirks without knowing him?"
He wasn't that quick-witted after all. If he was, he would've stopped asking questions.
It can't be helped.
Henry Savoy looked at Ammonete, realizing that the inevitable truth was pressing. He'd enjoyed their honest company, and a soft spot, one he always avoided, was nagging at him. But he couldn't be so certain of others' honesty—they'd only just met. To assume them truly honest would be a mistake.
But then again, to err is human.
A sigh escaped his lips as he finished the brandy in his tankard. The whole camp was silent, waiting for him to speak.
"Alexandros the Worldbearer is an Otherworlder, which means he's Alexander the Great."
The campfire crackled as Henry's words hung in the air.
Ammonete's eyes widened, a spark of disbelief flashing in them. Phenix and Fortiana exchanged glances, brows furrowing as they tried to piece together what Henry had just said.
"Alexander the… Great?" Fortiana repeated, sounding out the words as though tasting them for the first time.
Henry set his tankard down, the weight of his revelation sinking in as he met their gazes. "In my world, we have a similar figure—a conqueror who swept through vast territories, shaping empires and history. His name was Alexander, though no one called him 'Worldbearer.' But hearing your stories of Alexandros and his quirks… it's too familiar."
Phenix scratched his chin, staring at Henry as if seeing him for the first time. "So, in your world, this… Alexander is a legend, like Alexandros?"
"More than a legend," Henry replied, leaning forward, feeling a strange kinship with these people. "He's one of our greatest historical figures, a name people revere even thousands of years later. Alexander the Great left an indelible mark on my world." He paused, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair, feeling the weight of his past life pressing against his current reality. "It makes me wonder if this world and mine are more connected than I thought."
"Um… Henry…" Ammonete tugged on Henry's shirt like a child. "Are you saying you're an Otherworlder?"
Henry Savoy chuckled. "That seems to be the case."
Ammonete's eyes widened, realization dawning on her. If Henry Savoy was an Otherworlder, and they'd met him in Oberden earlier… "Then that means…" Ammonete said, her voice cracking.
"You're the Chosen One?!?" Fortiana shouted.
Henry Savoy only looked at them. He had never been fond of that title, which was why he never wanted to stay in Holy Oberden. A title given without his say is not a title that is earned. He believes that a title is only as good as the person who bears it—and he is not that person.
"No, I'm just an Otherworlder. The Vorhan Empire seems to think that means something. To be abducted from your world without your say? What kind of demented nonsense is that?" Henry spat, snickering. "I want to get away from that place, and hopefully, find a way back home."
"But…" Ammonete said, still clinging to Henry's shirt. "The spell to return someone to their world doesn't exist. If it does, are you sure your body back home is still alive?"
Henry Savoy stopped talking and stared at the fire. Ammonete was right; she had a point. His last memory of Earth was of the storm. The fact is, even if he returned to Earth, what body would he have? It would've been rotting by now, if not shredded by stray wood chips and glass.
But he had to try.
"I'll try to find that spell, then," Henry Savoy chuckled, breaking the tension. He drank more brandy and smiled at them. "But I want this to stay between us. I don't want to fight for a war that's not mine, and being a 'Chosen One' or whatever? It sounds like a drag."
The others exchanged looks, their faces showing confusion and concern.
Fortiana leaned forward, her expression somber. "You're serious about this, aren't you? Searching for a spell to return home, even if there's no guarantee your body's still… you know, intact?"
Henry shrugged, his smile a bit wistful. "What's life without a little risk? I didn't ask to come here. And if I don't try, then what's left of me in this world? A puppet to an empire, or worse, a pawn in a war I never wanted. God be damned if I become something I'm not."
Phenix nodded slowly, respect in his gaze. "It's a path few would choose. But if you need us—well, the Griffon's Grace doesn't abandon our own. We're in this together."
Henry Savoy looked at them, surprise evident. He had never been one for camaraderie, let alone loyalty. Yet here, even after only a short journey, they saw him as a friend. Must be the effects of the brandy, but for now, he was grateful his companions wouldn't betray him.
"What a bother," he chuckled, pouring himself more Apricia brandy. "Alright. I'll take that offer. Know that I won't pay extra."
"So stingy," Fortiana chuckled.
They all laughed around the campfire until suddenly, a noise other than theirs echoed in the woods. A bush started to shake, and they grew wary. Phenix quickly gripped his sword, Fortiana her mace, and Ammonete raised her hand toward the thicket. They worked in perfect unison, a clear sign they'd been together a long time.
"Calm down," a familiar voice called, and a man emerged with his hands raised. "It's me."
Kagezo.
Everyone sighed in relief.
"Seriously, don't scare us like that. You do that every time," Fortiana said.
They placed down their arms and continued drinking.
"So, any trouble ahead?" Phenix asked.
"Bandit war party, about twenty of them, likely heading to a nearby village to sack it," Kagezo replied, sitting beside Phenix and removing his mask.
He was a handsome young man. Henry Savoy had imagined him older due to his calm demeanor, but he looked to be in his early twenties. His sharp features—a cold glare, a strong chin, and a jaw that could slice apples—came into view as his hair flowed down to his shoulders.
"Then let's take them down. There'll be no pay, but I feel like helping," Fortiana smirked, her cheeks flushed from the brandy. "And it could be good practice before we sleep."
"Wait, are you saying you'll fight twenty bandits? The four of you?" Henry chuckled. "The drink must be clouding your mind."
Phenix laughed, tears streaming from his eyes. "You're coming too, Henry. Why leave you out of the fun?"
The three laughed, except Kagezo, who looked puzzled. In the few hours he was gone, they'd grown jolly and close to Henry Savoy. If he were a typical client, they wouldn't be like this. They'd maintain a professional distance.
After all, who would hire an adventuring party that doesn't take their job seriously?
Henry Savoy laughed with them and downed the remaining brandy in his tankard. "Fine, let's beat ourselves some bandits."