Save your brother, Brand. End the Crimson…
…
The world felt shaky; loud men were talking beside him, and there was the distant sound of birds chirping. Wheels rattled below him with the sound of hooves hitting solid ground; he was likely in a cart.
"Hey, you, you're finally awake."
His eyes groggily opened and fell upon the hulking blonde, blue-haired man. "What?" He asked in a confused daze.
"We found you collapsed by the river, soaked and muddy. Gosh, you were half an hour away from death." The man said Concerningly, the red-headed man beside him nodded in affirmation. "When we asked what happened to you, you simply repeated the same sentence, 'End the Crimson.'"
Well, that sounded quite ominous, but he couldn't recall what it meant.
He stared at the man for a couple of seconds; his mind was blank, and he didn't remember anything. "What's that?" He asked, and the two men had a perplexed look on their faces.
Redhead shook his head. "We found no external injuries, but you probably hit your head on the rocks."
"Maybe that's why I can't recall anything… Where is the cart heading?"
The forest was thick and cold. He shivered. The redheaded man handed him what seemed like an old, ragged sweater. "We're merely travelers; this is all I have."
The redhead continued, "Look at those mountains in the distance. Those are the mist-veiled mountains." Like the name suggested, most of the humongous mountain range was covered by a thick fog, and only certain parts and peaks of the mountains were visible.
"There is a large town at the foot of those mountains called Blackstone; we are headed there."
Mist-veiled mountains… Blackstone town… Neither of them rang a bell.
"I'll be in your care then…" He didn't know their names.
The redhead spoke first, "Rah, and this is Glenn." He pointed his finger at the cart driver, who had stayed silent till now. "That gloomy guy over there is Syrash."
Brand turned his head to be met with cold, lifeless onyx eyes. The man sure was intimidating, with his stubble and glistening bronze skin.
"Do you remember your name perhaps?" Glenn asked.
"Brand? Yes, I'm called Brand." He replied with a nod.
"Brand? That's a northerner's name… Ah, so you're from the mountains then. Heading to Blackstone might help you find clues. Maybe someone knows you there." Rah theorized.
They talked to Brand for a bit, telling him about the geography of the region and its history; he was unfamiliar with both of them, though, and could only nod along.
From what the young man understood, the region they were in was known as the Riverlands because most of the major rivers of the continent formed from the melting snow and glaciers up north of the region.
The lands north were known as the Northlands, and similarly, the lands east were known as the Eastlands, and the lands west were known as the Westlands. Far, far south, there were also the Southlands, and in the middle of it were the Midlands.
As the roads started winding, that was when they had entered the hills; the roads got worse and worse till there were only rocks and puddles. Eventually, one of the wheels got stuck in a large enough puddle.
"The wheel's stuck," Rah said as he shook his head and dropped down. The cart was quite heavy with sacks of grains, potatoes, and such; it would need more than one person to lift off the puddle.
"Brand, help us, will you?" Said Glenn with his hands firmly placed below a horizontally supporting piece of wood. Brand nodded and dropped down.
The three of them pushed the cart forward and upwards as the horses pulled from the front, a few moments later, the wheel rolled out of the puddle, causing the three of them to jerk forward.
"You're decently strong for your build," Glenn said as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. Brand scratched the back of his head. "You two could have done it with no effort; I just made it easier."
"Even if that is the case, it felt as if we barely broke a sweat; the cart's easily a hundred kilos, you know. " Rah said and sat down on the cart, which Syrash had already started moving. "Are you specialized in anything?"
What was that?
"I didn't quite catch you on that…" Brand stuttered.
"A specialization! You don't know it?" Rah said in surprise, "You seem to have forgotten a lot of things, I suppose, and it is one of them…"
He continued, "When a child is born, the oracle bestows upon it a name unique to itself."
"The name determines what family of Gods the child belongs to; that family is its specialization." He finished, but the young man still seemed confused.
"Family of God which a child belongs to… Doesn't that make every person a "God"?"
"Technically, yes, but we're merely mortal hatchlings with so-called divine essence." Glenn sighed, "The more essence you have, the closer you are to the gods."
In the front, Syrash grunted and shook his head, "Look at that guy, bored out of his mind." Redheaded Rah chuckled and spoke again, "Totally forgot about the first question you asked. What was it again? … Specialization! Yes, yes."
He nodded to himself twice. "You see, there are three families of gods: the Valor, the Serenity, and the Chaos. "
"Valor, Serenity and Chaos…" Brand repeated after him, afraid he might forget the three words within moments.
"Yes, Valor, Serenity, and Chaos. The Three Families of Gods." Rah pointed at himself. "Let me introduce myself again. I am Rah of Valor; he is Glenn of Serenity, and that dude over there is Syrash of Chaos."
All three of them had different specializations; was that a coincidence or not?
"In the times of old, Rah would be a warrior, I would be a Monk or Priest, and Syrash would be a Mage; that is why they are called specializations—each person is powerful in their own ways: body, mind, and magic," Glenn spoke, pointing his fingers respectively to each of them. "They are also called blessings, by the way."
Warrior of Valor, Priest of Serenity, and mage of chaos.
"I believe I have recalled something…" Brand said, his eyes closed, and his finger pressed to his temple.
A distant tale of warriors and mages, fighting atop the precipice of the world to conquer, a tale neither good nor evil nor just nor unjust: The Tale of a King and his Grand Mage.
"A Warrior, as in King Aarvius, and Mage, as in Wizard Merris, Perhaps?" He asked, and the men nodded in unison.
"Yes indeed, a tale as old as time," Glenn spoke, and with a smile, he patted the young man on the back. "Seems you haven't lost it all."
"Perhaps." He nodded sadly.