Have you ever felt isolated from other people to the point where you can't even remotely understand them?

For me, it seems those moments are far too frequent. Sometimes, it's as if I myself am from another species. As if other, normal people hail from something...alien.

Don't get me wrong. I'm entirely sane. I realize we're all human. However, it does lead to some bad feelings, as you can imagine. I frequently have murderous impulses. I imagine killing people in graphic detail for speaking to me the wrong way or for accidentally bumping my shoulder in passing.

...I'm sorry. You may be disturbed by my candidness. Don't worry, they're merely thoughts - I wouldn't actually kill anyone.

The particular moment at which the whole fiasco I will now detail began was one of those: in which I felt murderous impulses toward any man or woman who so much as looked at me the wrong way. My imagination was perhaps more vivid that day than usual; I saw myself in my mind's eye, gleefully carving bloody patterns into the flesh of the stranger who had just glanced at me. He screamed and screamed. Naturally, I banished the thought, disturbed at my own vindictiveness.

As I pushed my way swiftly through the crowd, eager to reach the exit as soon as I was able, yet another such idiot bumped my shoulder, hard enough to send me sprawling to the floor and getting filth onto my formal dress. I scowled up at him venomously even as he knelt to help me up, choosing to ignore his outstretched hand and right myself on my own. Almost immediately, though, I stumbled and found myself back on the disgusting ground.

This was not due to clumsiness. Rather, there was suddenly a searing heat at my chest, so strong it took my breath away and made me clutch at it, gasping uncontrollably with sheer agony. It only increased, as if I were holding something burning hot to myself. I could feel it searing at my skin and imagined that I could actually smell the burning flesh, but even as I reversed my actions, trying to yank the heat away from myself, the pain continued.

Then pins were sticking into every inch of my skin, all over me, and unseeable forces yanked at me in every different direction. I felt keenly my body being pulled apart, every limb being meticulously torn, bone and sinew rent from each other...

At long last, a scream was torn from my lips before the world around me faded away.

An ear-splitting scream rent the peaceful night air, causing many passersby to pause and glance in the direction of a dingy alleyway nearby.

Yet none of the well-to-do nobles on the street seemed much taken aback by the interruption; rather, they seemed slightly annoyed at being startled from their routines, which they then immediately resumed. One noblewoman even snorted derisively as she continued on her way, shooting a disdainful look in the direction of the offensive street. "Commoners!"

In the prestigious city of Yu Liberte, such occurrences were expected. The affairs of the poor were not ones that mattered to the daily lives of the rich bureaucrats who ran the democratic capital. Many high-up figures found themselves wishing that the trashy peasants could simply be removed, that they not dirty the reputation of the beautiful Yu Liberte even the slightest bit. Whether that happened by deporting them, killing them, or offering them less offensive dwellings, nobody had really considered. Yet none of these auspicious persons cared enough to do anything about it one way or another.

Meanwhile, there existed those whose status was somewhere in between the commoners and the nobles - the soldiers of the Strahtan army.

Often, those with less joined the army to better their station. Paradoxically, however, they were still unable to rise up in rank as much as the sons of nobles who joined the same army. Everyone knew that those with money were obviously more fit to command armies, and those without it fit only to follow orders, regardless of their strategic or physical capabilities.

It horrified Hubert, when he paused to think about it, that he'd become so used to all this that it hardly even made his blood boil anymore. The fact that he benefited from being the son of an Oswell - albeit adopted - that he had more opportunity than the general populace, that he had been shunted into a Lieutenant position immediately upon graduating while promising lads he had known were pushed to the general ranks...

It barely even fazed him anymore.

But still, even in the company of other high-ranking officers as he was, he just couldn't bring himself to ignore things like this.

"Excuse me," he said primly to the group at large, which was probably too drunk as a body to even register him speaking, much less what he was saying. "I seem to have misplaced one of my belongings. Please, feel free to continue on without me."

After extricating himself from the laughing, drunken, buffoons who were nothing more or less than a disgrace to the Strahtan army, Hubert quickly made his way back to that alleyway and raced around the corner, senses on alert.

Then his eyes fell on figure crumpled in a corner and his blood ran cold.

Hubert lost no time in making his way speedily over to the figure, who turned out to be a young man with odd coloring, dressed in neat, formal, and yet foreign-looking clothes. Moreover, he didn't appear to be hurt, despite being unconscious; his heartbeat was steady and there were no visible wounds, not even bruises. Not at all what Hubert had expected; in fact, he couldn't help but glance quickly around the narrow alleyway as if expecting to see someone else.

Had this man really been the one who had screamed? He'd been quite sure this had been where he'd heard it from. He'd anticipated finding a group of thugs terrorizing some defenseless person, more likely female than male, but the young man looked physically fine and there was nobody else near him.

Puzzled, Hubert thought for a few moments before deciding that this man was still in need of help. After all, he could hardly be left unconscious in this alley. He propped the stranger up awkwardly and grabbed his arms, lacing them around his neck and hoisting him up onto his back with some effort. The nobles gave him some odd looks as he emerged from the alleyway, but they didn't seem overly disturbed; after all, the young man he was carrying, though foreign, appeared well-dressed and certainly didn't seem to be a peasant, so they probably just assumed he was carrying his drunken acquaintance home. Hubert was glad for that. He was sick of having to explain himself to the nobility.

He finally reached the mansion he lived in, directly adjoining his adoptive father's. He thanked his lucky stars that he'd managed to convince Oswell to let him move out of the main house; this made it a lot easier to do things like smuggle in strangers. Not that he did this often. He held his breath as he dragged the stranger inside, not letting it out until the door was shut and locked. Hubert finally let himself relax, laying the man down on the sofa nearby and then plopping down himself on the one next to it, sighing and loosening his cravat. He felt utterly drained, first from having to attend that ridiculous social and second from transporting a man his height all the way across Yu Liberte. He cursed his own foolish soft-heartedness. On second thought, the man would probably have been fine where he was.

...He had no business collapsing in alleyways, anyway.

Hubert couldn't help but be curious, though - why had a noble, a foreign one at that, been loitering in such a dingy place? He glanced at the man's face, taking in his odd features once more. He had black hair - black! - that fell over his forehead in front in a way that reminded Hubert of Asbel. Even his eyes were a bit odd, though it was hard to tell with them closed. His nose, rather than being pointed as almost everyone's was across the three kingdoms, was more rounded and slightly flat. Only his skin tone seemed reasonable. And then his odd dress...there was a strip of cloth around his neck that reminded Hubert of a cravat but wasn't, and although the material was clearly high quality the colors were dismal, mostly black; nothing like the vibrant shades nobility usually wore. Where had this person come from, anyway? Hubert didn't know of any foreign country with denizens like this.

Well, there was no point in speculating about it. He'd find out when the stranger woke up, after all. Hubert had almost gotten up and retreated back up to his quarters when he hesitated and glanced back. Perhaps he shouldn't just leave the man on the sofa like this. If he really was a noble, then...Am even I discriminating between the rich and the poor now? Hubert thought irritably, catching his own train of thought.

Still, after pausing a moment longer, he propped the man up and shrugged off the sleeves of his outer coat, then loosened the cloth tied around his neck. That would have to do. Heaving a sigh, he carried the man into one of his guest bedrooms and plopped him down on the bed. There. The stranger certainly couldn't complain about Hubert's hospitality now. Drained, the Strahtan youth exited the room and made his way to his own.

He wondered what the next day would bring.

When I woke up, it took a good few minutes for me to remember the sequence of events that had last taken place. Even then, I couldn't reconcile those with my surroundings.

I was in an ornate bedroom, decorated lavishly with silk and brocade, and color-coordinated precisely with mostly shades of blue and white. Someone had removed my suit jacket, and I felt absolutely filthy, but I was otherwise intact, and judging by the light filtering through the curtains and the trill of birds, it was early morning. All this I took in immediately upon waking, but no matter how much I cast my thoughts back, I couldn't remember anything further than collapsing at that damn party.

Right - shit - that necklace. I put my hand to my neck immediately and - yes, it was still there - for better or worse I had yet to decide. All this seemed to be its fault, after all. But currently it sat innocently on my chest, giving no indications of how it had burned into me and practically fucking ripped me apart before. I breathed slowly. Okay. I could deal with this, even if it didn't really make sense. My first impulse was to rip off my shirt immediately to check if the necklace had done any physical damage, but I did also appear to be in someone's mansion. I wasn't in pain now, and the necklace was doing nothing. I should probably figure out where the hell I was first.

I swung my legs off the side of the bed and stood cautiously. Thankfully my legs didn't give out from under me, although my head hurt something fierce and my mouth was parched. I'd only made it halfway to the door when it swung open from the outside and I came face to face with the oddest looking man I'd ever seen.

He was dressed just as ornately as this room, in similar colors to boot, but the clothing appeared ridiculously old-fashioned, like something out of some fantasy book. Not only that, but his features were odd, almost alien - his proportions just a bit off, enough that you couldn't really tell how just by looking. His nose just a tad bit too sharp, his face just a little too small for the size of his slanted blue eyes, and he had blue hair. That last could be that he'd dyed it, of course, but it was just overall really weird. I resisted the urge to back away warily, even though I couldn't help that every muscle in my body tensed. Either I was still dreaming or there was a very good chance this man was...if not insane, then at least a bit odd.

"I see you're awake," he said curtly, not commenting on the way I was probably staring at him. "Allow me to introduce myself - I am Hubert Oswell, a Major in the Strahtan Military. This is my residence. You are?"

No fucking way.

I couldn't help it, I pinched myself. And then looked around myself, again. No. This was too realistic to be a dream. Then?

The man - Hubert fucking Oswell, apparently - gave me an unimpressed look but said nothing, apparently waiting for me to speak.

"Sorry if this is a bit rude," I said in a strangled sort of voice, "but how the bloody hell did I get here?"

Hubert's mouth twisted into a thin line. "If you know something is rude, you shouldn't say it," he sniffed. "But to answer your question, I found you unconscious in an alleyway last night. As to what you were doing there I haven't the faintest idea."

I blinked at him, resisting the urge to bang my head into the wall a couple of times and see if that woke me up. "What city is this?" I asked finally. He gave me a very odd look this time but answered anyway.

"Yu Liberte, the Strahtan capital."

Right. Of course it was. "Let me guess," I said wearily. "The neighboring countries are Windor and Fendel."

He gave me a look that clearly said he didn't get where I was going with this. "Obviously."

"Right," I said. "Well. Er. Thanks for rescuing me and all that." That wasn't exactly the smoothest thing I've ever said, but I was having a hard time even taking the situation seriously to begin with.

Hubert scoffed. "I'm starting to think I shouldn't have done it at all," he said. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Ren Suzumiya," I said finally.

"An odd name," he observed dismissively. "And where are you from, exactly? You are a foreigner, I presume?"

"I...To be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure how I got here," I sighed. "It's, ah...it's kind of a long story."

Hubert stared at me for a few moments. "Surely you must at least know where you're from. Where did you grow up?"

Damn, why did I have to mention Windor and Fendel?! I despaired. Now he knows I'm familiar with the geography of this continent. Otherwise I could just have claimed to be from a faraway land. Well, maybe I can still...

"I hail from...a very faraway land," I said carefully. "Quite a long way over the ocean, you see. I doubt you'll ever have heard of it."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at me. "You seemed familiar with the countries neighboring Strahta."

"Yes, well, I've seen them in passing in an old - in a history book," I amended hastily. I had no idea how long ago any of these countries had been established. "I was just trying to ascertain where I was."

What do I do now? I thought to myself. I'm suddenly in a city in a fantasy world with no money or belongings and no way to get back.

Hubert looked at me neutrally for a few long moments. Then he said, "So you claim to be from an impossibly far away country, but to have no recollection of how you ended up here?"

I nodded helplessly.

"...Hmm." He took on an abstracted look. "I suppose it's possible, though highly unlikely. You were passed out in the middle of an empty alleyway, after all. I think cryas was probably involved."

"Cryas?" I asked before I could stop myself, then felt like an idiot. I knew what cryas was - I had played Tales of Graces, after all. For some reason I'd been thinking mana, but that wasn't what was used in this universe, was it?

Thankfully Hubert didn't seem annoyed or suspicious. "I suppose it's natural you've never heard of it, as it's certainly not a staple around the world, I'm sure," he guessed. "Cryas is an energy source produced by valkines. It allows for...a lot of things, including artes that can bend space and time - although those are quite rare." He paused and glanced at me. "Is there any such source of energy or magic where you live?"

"No," I admitted truthfully. "Nothing like that at all."

His brow furrowed. "What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered under his breath. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to have heard that. Then he sighed, heavily.

"Considering your story up until now, I assume I can't simply send you on your way - it would amount to turning you out on the streets penniless, am I right?"

My pride wouldn't let me agree. "I can't accept charity," I argued. "I'll find some temporary source of income until I can find out how to get home."

"A noble such as you?" Hubert questioned sardonically. "I doubt you've worked a day in your life."

Now that was an unfounded accusation. I'd been working ever since I was a teenager. "I do work," I told him haughtily.

He looked a bit surprised, but that melted back into his normal expression almost immediately. "Even so, Yu Liberte isn't exactly a good place for people without money to look for work," he said bluntly. "Unless you brought some savings with you."

I sighed and fished in my pocket for my wallet, showing him some US dollars. "I'm guessing this currency won't work," I sighed.

He looked at the money curiously. "That's money? No...I've never seen such currency before. I'm afraid it wouldn't be accepted here."

"That's what I thought," I said wearily. "But at any rate, I can't accept charity from you - "

"It wouldn't be charity," Hubert interrupted. "You'd have to pay me back in full, of course."

I eyed him warily and he seemed satisfied with my lack of response. "Well, we'll work that out in a moment," he said, seemingly more at ease now that he felt in control of the situation. "I propose we have some breakfast first. There are fresh clothes in the wardrobe, and you can feel free to use the adjoining facility to wash up. The food will be out in about twenty minutes." Without even waiting for me to agree, he turned and swept out of the room, his odd long coattails flowing behind him. The door closed with a graceful click.

Hubert berated himself silently as he walked down the hall. Why had he offered the stranger help? This blasted soft heart of his. He owed nothing to the man, and even the stranger had initially refused his help, but of course Hubert had to insist...

He wasn't sure what Oswell would think of this either. He'd probably disapprove - Hubert could maybe spin some story about the stranger obviously being a foreign noble, and press the fact that his relatives might potentially come looking for him; they would not look well on Hubert, in that case, if he simply abandoned this man. But it was still a stretch. Garrett Oswell was not one to make such beneficiary gestures on "what-ifs" like this. The chances were also high that his relatives, if he even had any, had no idea where he was and no means to get here, considering that nobody like him had ever been seen in these parts as far as Hubert knew.

What else could he tell his adoptive father? That the man...what had been his name...? Suzumiya - that Suzumiya was a friend of his, and was momentarily staying with him since he was visiting Yu Liberte? Oswell would be suspicious for sure, that he had such an odd-looking friend, and would want to know how they had met. Perhaps Hubert could say that he'd first seen the boy in Lhant, that his family had been passing through...? No, but the story was far too fabricated; anyone could punch a great number of holes in it easily, and exercising the amount of rehearsal necessary to mitigate that would be ridiculous. And more than that, Oswell knew well that Hubert tended not to have close friends, especially not friends that he'd let into his home. Why should a random foreigner he'd met once as a child be an exception?

Hubert closed his eyes for a few moments in frustration, resisting the urge to run his hands through his hair. He'd been trying to break himself of the habit, but sometimes when he was distressed it threatened to break out again. It was undesirable to have any sort of personal idiosyncracy that lent itself to showing his irritation to others - unbecoming of an officer of the Strahtan military.

He finished descending the main stairs and made his way to the kitchen, where the cook was busy finishing off breakfast. Oswell insisted on Hubert's having servants, even though Hubert himself would rather not, because it was unbefitting of someone of his station to do menial tasks himself. So Hubert had hired the bare minimum, a single cook and a single maid, and what was more, he didn't let the maid in his quarters, preferring to clean them himself. Now he cleared his throat to get his cook's attention, and the man glanced up and bowed respectfully.

"Good morning, Jared," Hubert greeted him, resisting the urge he still had to bow back, even after all these years. "I have a guest this morning. Would it be too much trouble to extend the breakfast to serve two?"

"No problem, sir," the cook said amiably, then grinned a little bit. "A lady friend?"

Hubert felt his face heat a little bit and cleared his throat.

"Of course not, Jared. Just a friend, and male. Please refrain from making any untoward comments in front of him."

Jared was still smiling in a way Hubert didn't entirely like, but he nodded and continued frying the eggs. Hubert lingered a few moments longer, observing the food longingly, before exiting the kitchen and making his way over to the table and taking a seat at his usual spot.

He should probably arrange for something for Suzumiya to do. Work, perhaps. It depended on what the man himself wanted. At the same time, Hubert couldn't stop being surprised at himself for what he was even doing. Since when did he take in random strangers? For some reason he'd felt a pull towards Suzumiya ever since he'd seen him. A strange niggling of familiarity, and curiosity to know more. Even the man's demeanor was puzzling. There was no real reason to disbelieve his claimed amnesia, but Hubert still felt that Suzumiya might remember more than he was letting on.

He perked up slightly at a noise from the staircase and saw his new guest descending, tugging uncomfortably on his sleeves. He'd obviously washed up, his black hair still damp and falling forward to frame his face, and was dressed in more traditional noble attire for Yu Liberte. Hubert was surprised at how strange that was to see - someone with such foreign features and coloring, dressed like this - and almost felt a twinge of dissatisfaction, as if the previous clothes had suited Suzumiya better. Then he cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up with hand. There was no point in dwelling on something so idiotic.

"I see you're down," he said, and Suzuyima's gaze snapped onto him. He had that disbelieving, scrutinizing gaze again, like he was half afraid of Hubert and half awed by him. It was more than a little unsettling. There were a couple of beats of silence, and then Suzumiya finally responded.

"Yes," he said. "Thanks for the hospitality. Your house is fucking amazing."

"I'd ask you to please refrain from using such unsavory language," Hubert said disapprovingly. "But thank you. Have a seat." He avoided looking at Jared as the cook stepped toward the table and started to place down the food. "Are you feeling a bit more awake now?"

"I suppose," Suzumiya said. "Listen, Hubert, I'm really grateful for the help, but - "

"How would you like to join the military?" Hubert asked, and then paused, surprised both at Suzumiya's familiar use of his name and Hubert's own impulsive question. Suzumiya looked taken aback, his back straightening a little.

"That's - " he started. "I…is that possible? And is the army here…active?"

"We aren't currently at war," Hubert elaborated. "And you do get paid a salary as a soldier of the Strahtan army. Anyone can enter, but you have to pass a test after an initial training period."

Suzumiya looked considering, putting a bent finger against his lips thoughtfully and smoothing it back and forth. Hubert followed the movement automatically with his eyes before he caught himself and directed his attention to his food, serving himself some eggs. Finally his guest said, "Okay. I guess that sounds more appealing than doing some other sort of brunt work. Until I can figure out how I got here…"

"I can assist you with that as well," Hubert promised, again without much thinking about it, and then felt like hitting himself. What was wrong with him?

Even Suzumiya looked taken aback. He leaned back in his chair, fixing Hubert with those impossibly dark eyes. "Not that I'm not grateful, but why are you helping me so much?"

Hubert cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses needlessly again. Another gesture that he should probably get around to eliminating. "I'd do this for anyone," he said offhandedly. "After all, you don't have anyone to turn to. What kind of monster would abandon a stranger in need?"

Suzumiya still seemed a little suspicious, but he seemed to accept this, turning back to his plate and cutting into some meat with his knife. "All right. Well, thanks again. Though I don't know if I'll be as grateful once I start in the army. That training program doesn't sound like a walk in the park."

A slight smirk came to Hubert's lips automatically. "Oh, it's certainly not."

"That's what I thought," Suzumiya groaned, shutting his eyes briefly. He took a swallow of food and made an appreciative noise. "Also, this is really good." He turned to Jared, who was watching from the corner, and said, "You're an amazing cook. Will you marry me?"

Hubert choked on his eggs and went into a coughing fit, while Jared only smiled in amusement. "I'm afraid my young master wouldn't much like that. But thank you for the compliment. Is there anything else I can get you, sir?"

"No, I'm good." Suzumiya finished shoveling food into his mouth faster than Hubert would have thought possible and leaned back in his share with a sigh of satisfaction, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

This guy was a noble?

Hubert continued taking dainty bites, feeling slightly off-balance. This man reminded him strangely of Asbel in a lot of ways. And then in other ways…not.

He could tell Suzumiya was watching him, but he refused to look back up.

"Hubert?"

That made him put down his fork and fix Suzumiya with a flat gaze. "Why are you acting so familiar with me?"

Suzumiya raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Calling you by your first name? You can call me Ren, too. It's not that big of a deal. Or would you prefer I call you Major Oswell?"

Hubert cleared his throat. "No, that won't be necessary, er…Ren." It felt strange addressing someone he barely knew so familiarly - Hubert was generally used to layers of formality between him and nearly everyone else. Ever since he'd come to Yu Liberte, really…

Suzumiya - Ren - was grinning. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Hu-bert." He stretched out the name and Hubert sniffed in disapproval.

"Really, I don't understand you. We don't even know each other."

"I mean, you were planning to tell your father I'm an old friend, right?"

He had to fight to keep in the shock. "Do you know me from somewhere after all?"

Ren shrugged. "No. You just seem like a rich kid. And you also don't seem like the type who helps random strangers often."

"That seems quite a lot to assume on basically no information," Hubert pointed out suspiciously. Ren gave him that annoying grin again. His teeth were white and perfectly straight.

"Let's just say I have a sixth sense."

"Hmph. As if such a thing exists."

Jared laughed a little bit as he started to clear away the plates. "You two get along well," he noted. Hubert rolled his eyes.

"Well, no time to waste. Time to go make your introductions."

Ren looked surprised, his hands going to rake through his wet hair. "Now?"

"There's no time like the present," Hubert said tartly, wiping his mouth daintily with the cloth napkin and getting up from his seat.

A/N: What do you think? Should I continue?