NEW AGE PLOT
"Do you think fifty days will be enough for what you want?"
Hale's voice became calm and deliberate. Forcing a cun smirk on the god's face as though amused.
"Looks like I humbled you, little man," He paused, staring at Hale before looking away, "I'll make it a hundred days. That'll certainly be enough.
Remember, I want the Empress' crystal in my hands—"
"I don't quite understand. But whatever." Hale nodded, his voice hoarse, yet fluent.
For some reason, Turpin West had taken very great reverence to this god —as with his mission.
The reason though remained quite a mystery for Hale.
As far as he knew, there was absolute nothing to love about this god.
"A hundred days it is, then," Forcing a smile over his face, Hale nodded.
His heart raged as he drew himself into the pretense. It surely was hurting him to be this meek to someone he didn't like.
But what could he do?
Right now, he didn't even know what he was.
Under the blackness, Hale watched the entity dissolve into the shadows, leaving nothing behind but a quiet and oppressive stillness.
---
Hale's eyes open, staring up at the flickering chandelier above his bed.
Its golden light were mixed with the white glow of the candles, casting long shadows across the room.
For a moment, his mind was blank.
'Did I just speak with the god of the HellStriders?'
He wanted to believe it was just an echo of Turpin's memories. But deep down, he knew better.
Hale sat up, his hands trembling slightly as he pressed them into the soft bedding.
The room was quiet, but his thoughts weren't.
'I just got here, and now I'm stuck with a mission? One that should have died with that man?'
His chest tightened at the thought.
Even the deity had recognized it was him—a new soul when they spoke. And yet, had remained very calm like he expected it for the longest time.
That alone sent a chill crawling down his spine.
Or maybe he was the sole orchestrator or it all.
'Another toil with death would end this shit. At least peace. But—'
His breath hitched, and his thoughts paused as if something in him refused to let that idea take root.
He was contemplating his second death.
Certainly there would be one thing in this room that could kill him? If not, the world outside this room had just enough.
However, a sudden strange sense of clarity settled over him.
'I still have a hundred days right?'
He clung to the thought, using it to steady himself.
A mission like this wasn't something he would have chosen, but there wasn't an option to back out.
Within this time, he would try to know all he could about Norvenia. And if he found it interesting enough, he would choose to continue living in it and bear the mission.
However, if things became too sour, he would opt out with an easy suicide.
Still, fear lingered at the edges of his mind.
Turpin, a skilled and resourceful man had failed a mission in his own world.
How could he, a stranger to this succeed?
Hale shook his head, forcing himself to push the thought aside.
If he settled in those thought, he might remain here all throughout the day.
Finally since his awaken, Hale took in his surroundings.
The room was massive, every corner filled with reminders of wealth and power.
A grand fireplace dominated the far wall, its grotesque carvings casting eerie shadows that made his skin tighten.
Even the walls were framed with heavy frames bore the paintings of unrecognizable art.
Hale mused, 'Turpin really did have taste.'
To his right, a balcony stretched out behind a wall of thin glass panels, revealing a faint reflection of the room.
Climbing down the giant bed, Hale felt his bare feet press on the cotton made carpet.
The sense quickly cloaking his former disturbed mind with a bit of peace.
'So this is what the HellStriders call a hideout,' he thought.
Even in Norvenia, an empire known for its strict order, groups like the HellStriders always found a way to thrive.
This grand manor, owned by a noble who secretly supported them, was proof of that.
For as far as Turpin's memory Hale could make out, they lived in here in isolation from the outside world, only approaching township under emergencies.
Hale stepped toward the balcony, his eyes drawn to the world outside.
Beyond the glass, the last traces of sunlight had disappeared.
The vast flower fields within the manor grounds swayed gently in the twilight, bordered by tall fences that seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world.
Farther out, he could only make out the glow of the city.
Night lamps bathed the streets in an orange-gold hue, softening the harshness of the grey stoned roads.
He leaned closer to the glass, his breath fogging the surface slightly as he stared out at the distant lights.
'Wonder what's out there,' he sighed before looking away.
Turpin's memories held fragments of world knowledge, however they were too scattered and incomplete.
So much they were only like extras in a world of giants.
'For a world I hope to affect so much? Shouldn't I know it?'
Hale exhaled and turned around.
For a moment his head went blank staring at all the pieces of the room.
There was a great bed with an equally terrific chandelier hanging over it, a tailored fireplace, plus a few single-chairs scattered around.
All messy, yet too elegant that his head ached a little.
Nonetheless, another part of the room drew his attention.
At the left corner of room closer to the door, two high shelves stood adjacent to the other, each stacked with heavy looking books, or mysterious items.
A long desk stood at the forefront the section, serving as the divider between the rest of the room.
Hale approached the components, curious yet uninterested at the same time.
'Probably Turpin West brain space.'
He smacked his lips as he caressed the hard surface of the wood.
At a closer inspection, he realized the entire surface seemed to the canvas for a geological makeup.
And fortunately, an inscription at the center didn't keep him curious for long.
"Norvenia's entire map ehnn?" A smug smile formed on his face and he traced his fingers across the edge of the bold lines.
It wasn't clear how useful it would be yet, but he had a feeling it would come in handy.
'Still, what's the point of knowing the world if I don't understand this group?'
Hale turned to the door.
Not that he didn't already recognize all of the major people in this group. Only he knew them from Turpin's perspective.
It might have seemed ridiculous—even considering the fact that he and Turpin shared some similarities.
But in the end, there would always be a key contrast between them; an essence that defined them for who they were.
And no matter how hard he scrambled through the bundled memories in his head, he still needed communication to truly understand Turpin's essence.
If he wanted to be this man for the time being—to take over his life before carving his own path—then he needed to know Turpin's true essence and learn to mimic it perfectly.