On a secluded hill-top an ancient, archaic mansion stood, grounds once tendered with care now left to grow wild. A stone path wound its way up through the foliage and to a series of delicately carved marble steps which, in turn, had at their top a massive wooden door that was almost permanently shut. From a distance it looked more like a castle than a home, but a home it was and inside apparently lived a solitary old man. The people who lived in the nearby towns disliked the home and even more so the old man who lived there. Few people ventured up to him, preferring to leave him to himself and his crazy needs. But as is the case with all secluded, mysterious people, rumours abounded about the old man and who he was. Some said he was once a teacher, others that he was an architect who built the castle for himself and then locked himself away in it after it was completed. No matter who you asked, someone had an idea or a story, normally ending with some horrific and unpleasant twist.
However on this particular day one person made their way up the stone path, braving the harsh winds and storm threats, their steps echoing slightly as they moved forward. For a moment the figure paused looking up at the ancient mansion as if debating what next to do. A faint smile graced feminine lips as the lady took in the sight of the impressive building backed by dark stormy clouds. For no more than a moment she considered turning back but dismissed it. The young woman soldiered on, climbing the stone steps and pushing open the huge wooden door, entering a vast hall. Its architecture was completely classical with a staircase at the edge and works of art scattered around the room, framed by the gentle flicker of candle light. Shadows danced as a soft breeze blew into the hall disturbing the flames. The quiet was almost absolute, broken only by the soft patter of water as it began to rain outside.
She moved further into the hall, eager to see what was around here and made her way toward a display case that seemed to be almost venerated because of its position inside. She edged closer to the case, curious as to its contents. As she approached she noticed that it glittered with a strange blue green light, but only slightly, almost invisibly even in the candle light.
On the base of the case there was, strangly enough, no inscription. Almost as if the contents were to explain themselves, but as she looked closer she could see no answers, only mysteries. She found herself looking at an ancient weapon, one she recognised from her days at school, a weapon called a gunblade. A quick study of it showed that it was well used, the handle worn and several slight notches on the blade, however it was evident that great care had been taken over this weapon as it was well polished and there was no evidence of any monster blood on it, just as such a weapon should be, a work of art.
"Beautiful isn't it,' said a soft, crackly voice from behind her causing her to jump, 'I don't look at it as often as I should, but it is truly beautiful."
Before the young lady was an elegantly dressed man, of average height and slim build, his long white hair cascading over his eyes, wearing a very dark purple smoking jacket, with dark trousers, a black dress shirt and a red cravat, pinned with a glittering and beautiful tie pin. The old man walked towards her, slowly, leaning heavily on an antiquated cane with an ivory handle, by no means an ornate design, but one for practical rather than ornamental use.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…." She began, but the old man cut her off, speaking again in that slow, almost musing tone.
"Oh not to worry my dear, it's been so long since I've seen someone, I'm glad to have someone to talk to. I'm so sorry I frightened you."
"I was just admiring the gunblade, it's stunning, I've never seen one before." She said, trying to offer an explanation of her intrusion.
"Oh not a problem, in fact that's really what I had hoped people would do, this place is sort of a museum you see. A tribute to times long past. I sort of think of my self as the Curator here you know, a man trying to find himself among these relics of the past.
You know there used to be power in these walls, strength and might long ago, but not any more, at least not yet." The Curators voice trailed off, his thoughts gently ebbing over him, causing him to loose his train of thought, the young lady simply listening as younger people do when faced with their elders.
"No matter', he continued, 'It's been so long since I've seen someone else, would you like some tea my dear? To make up in some way for the fright I gave you."
The Curator's voice made it clear that the offer of tea was not an offer at all, and so the young lady followed the elderly and seemingly harmless man deeper into the depths of the archaic castle.
After a few moments of walking in uneasy but somehow natural silence the odd pair came to a kitchen room off the main corridor. As they entered, the old man busied himself preparing the tea for them.
"Please, sit down,' he encouraged, 'I may be old but I can still make a few things. It's such a while since I've had visitors, a young girl used to come from one of the villages near by, but I haven't heard from her for some time. Never mind." He trailed off, sad but still full of energy as some old men are.
"I'm curious about the gunblade you had in the entrance, where's it from?"
The Curator paused for a moment, the question however innocently put had obviously struck him.
"I'm sorry.' She began. 'I didn't mean to offend you"
"No offence taken my dear,' he said, bringing over two cups of steaming tea and sitting down opposite the young lady, 'It just made me think of things that I'd almost forgotten about."
The Curator took a sip of his tea and breathed deeply.
"That gunblade belonged to the hero of legend, the one whose name was lost long ago,' the shock on the young lady's face was clearly evident, 'Ah, I see you don't believe me. And why should you? The story of how the nameless hero and his companions fought the ultimate Sorceress is well known and everyone claims to have some relic of that time."
"But what few people know,' he continued, 'is what happened after that memorable battle. Did you know that something else happened to them? How the child heroes faced the ultimate evil and shaped the world we live in?"
The young lady's eyes opened wide in shock. "I thought that after the battle with the Sorceress that was it? The heroes lived on in legend?"
"Oh far from it my dear,' replied the Curator, 'In fact that was just the beginning of things. Would you like to hear the story of what happened after?"
The only reply the old man received was the slightest of nods from the young lady. That was evidently enough as a slow smile spread over the Curators otherwise stony face.
"Out among the skies they sailed,' he intoned gently, his voice taking a soft quality as he immersed himself in his memories, 'Way above the clouds. The hero sat, watching the beauty of nature pass him by…"