This is a fanfiction of The Legend of the Sun Knight, written by Yu Wo. By no means do I own the copyright of those novels.
He was Roland, a Death Lord. According to his trusted aides, he had been an undead for at least 300 years. An undead can never die, and they would never cease to exist till they are burnt by raging fires or exterminated by intense holy light. And for an immense Death Lord –a being that could level a city in an instant, take on an army without problem and drown half the continent in darkness at a single whim—an end to his existence would be long in coming.
To some, an eternal existence seemed to be highly tempting and desirable. Yet, Roland thought otherwise. He had been on this world for far too long. So long, that not even his mind can withstand the burdens of his memories.
Once, twice, thrice… He had forgotten all that was important to him then. According to his aides, that happened every century.
And just a month ago, Roland had awoken from a deep slumber – a deep sleep where all his memories were stolen from him again. He woke up with only a vague sense of self-awareness and a precious gem of blue encased within a gilding of gold. He had even forgotten his name then.
If not for the name "Roland" engraved onto the gem, if not for his insistence on finding the "Roland", if not for his trusted aides' prompting, Roland doubted that he would be able to figure out his name.
Yet, now that Roland knew who he was, he felt a deep sense of lost and emptiness. His world was a dull, dull grey – lifeless, pedestrian and monotonous.
Perhaps that was the reason why he treasured that gem of gold and blue. It seemed to him to be the only thing that was brilliant, bright and pure—absolutely dazzling.
"Elias," Roland said, fingering the gem, "How did I get this gem?"
His trusted aide, Elias, immediately stepped up and bowed courteously before replying "My lord, a friend of yours gave it to you."
A friend…? A sudden silhouette flashed in Roland's mind. A person with a head of brilliant gold, so much so that it looked like sunshine coalesced, and eyes of sapphire blue, so deep that one can almost drown in them. That person shone in Roland's eyes, and seemed to be enveloped in a gentle warm light. That beautiful person must be his friend.
Roland felt a strange aching in his chest and an inexplicable melancholy descended upon him. He should be happy, shouldn't he—now that he had remembered his friend?
"Does that person have blonde hair and blue eyes?"
"Yes, my lord."
Roland cast his head upwards and looked to the sky. The firmament was a gentle blue, with cumulus clouds scudding along the horizons. And beyond that, was the Sun—ever shining, ever dazzling. Its golden rays were like streaks of gold and held the Earth in its embrace.
"Does the person have eyes like the sky, and hair like the Sun?"
"Perhaps, my lord. In his time, he –"
"He?"
"He was a man, my lord."
"But this person in my mind appears to be a beautiful person. Can a man be so beautiful?"
"There are many types of beauty in this world, my lord. One can be a man and still be beautiful. And in his time, that man was an acknowledged by many to possess great beauty."
Roland fell silent and contemplated. The vague silhouette in his mind took on a more solid form. He was dressed in a suit of pure white with gold filigrees, a sword hanging by his side and a ready smile that was as dazzling as the Sun. He was… a knight?
"Is he a knight?"
"He was, my lord."
A knight… Roland cannot help but to feel a surge of familiarity as he heard those words. Not only so, but a strange sense of comfort and safety flooded his being as the word gently formed in his mouth. A knight—a profession of chivalry, loyalty and bravery.
Yes, that person in his mind must be a fantastic knight. Roland was sure. He was certain that the person would go beyond the call of duties to fulfil his vows, a person who would be willing to sacrifice everything for his comrades… a person who does not know how to treasure himself…
A pang of sadness assaulted Roland and his fists clenched involuntarily. Roland frowned and the inchoate emptiness that he felt then was suddenly multiplied hundred times over. Never since recovering his memories had he felt such an acute sense of lost and haplessness.
He was a Death Lord, how could he ever feel helpless?
"He is an important person to me."
It was a statement, not a question. But nevertheless, Elias replied, "Yes, my lord. He was rumoured to be your childhood friend."
Another period of silence filled the air. The silence was pervasive and inexorable; it seeped into the ground and held the forest captive. It was thick and heavy, so tangible that one can almost take a knife to it. It gathered around Roland like a shroud and pooled around his feet like blood.
It was painful, aching and oppressive.
Roland clutched at the brilliant blue gem with great strength. He fingered it and palmed it. He caressed it and tightened his grip. He turned it in his hands and formed an iron fist around it. He clutched at it with near desperation.
"Why do you keep using past tense, Elias?"
"He is dead, my lord."
Basically, this short piece takes place long after the 38th generation of the 12 holy knights have retired and died. In fact, it's supposed to be a piece that is in conjunction with the Extra Searching for Roland written by Yu Wo, but I doubt that it has been translated...
So... yea, I hope you guys enjoyed the piece. Thank you.