It was the middle of the night when he finally decided to leave the comfortable cocoon of warmth he'd been brought to. His muscles groaned and protested as he slowly sat up, having grown too used to the lack of movement. A pop from his spine brought to his attention just how long he'd been resting for; far too long for his comfort. He took a deep breath, drinking in the warm air around him.
Well, it was warm to him. He assumed that it was normal room temperature for others who hadn't been trapped in a polar prison for who knows how long. More of his bones popped and cracked as he lifted his arms and stretched, releasing the pressure that had been building in them during his sleep. When his muscles decided that it was time to stop, he lowered his arms and reached for the fur blanket on his lap, tossing it casually off himself.
Looking down, he realized that whoever had brought him here hadn't bothered to change his clothes. He didn't mind; it was better to already be clothed than to have to clothe himself after getting up. It saved a few minutes of precious time. With another deep breath, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and let his feet touch the floor.
And then he felt it.
It was like someone's scream of pure agony and despair filled his head and his feet left the brick floor as his instincts curled back in horror. His mind throbbed with the lingering remnants of what had invaded his head and attempted to tear even further into it. He reached up and placed his hands on his head, breathing deeply to try and dispel the pain in his skull. Something was so very very wrong with the Earth to have sent a psychic kickback as powerful as that into his mind, let alone just from him touching it.
Eventually, the pain slowly bled from his mind and faded into the back of his psyche, the echoes of the Earth's scream still haunting the edges of his consciousness. He took a few more deep breaths, the comfort of the warm air around him having suddenly dropped away from being an important part of the environment. He looked down at the yellow bricks that formed the floor, his sock covered feet hovering over it hesitantly. He didn't know what caused the Earth to lash out so harshly, but he hoped that it wasn't something serious. He proceeded to brace himself for another round of mental assault before dropping his feet down.
A gnawing pain proceeded to attack the back of his head, an echo of a screech filling his ears. The Element of Earth pulsed in his body as the planet desperately sent out a call for help. Reaching further down through the brick, he felt it as vividly as the planet itself was.
The World was cracked and wounded, having been blown to pieces just a few years before. Lingering scars of the devastation still tortured the planet, every shift of it's crust threatening to send it hurtling into the cold confines of space and the still weakened parts of it torn from it's main body. Even he could feel it, as dulled as his senses were after his imprisonment. Deep down, near the planet's core, there were still fissures that had yet to mend and reconnect into one entity. Like a gash on an arm that needed to be held together to properly heal.
With a few deep breathes, he managed to push through the feeling of the World itself calling out in anguish. He couldn't do anything about it; certainly not in the state it was in. He wouldn't have enough focus, and he would risk fracturing the poor planet even further if he tried. He was still sitting on the bed, and his hands were gripping the edges of it with a white-knuckle hold. He worked hard to erect a barrier in his mind. To push out and keep out the screaming of the planet.
It took effort. Effort that was only available to him now that he was free. He reminded himself that he was free now. He could help the world heal when he got the chance.
Then, it clicked.
The psychic screaming of the planet seemed to lessen, as if it had heard him promise it the help it was desperately crying out for. Suddenly, he was able to breathe with some ease again, without having to focus on blocking out the horrible screeching in his mind. Fresh air filled his lungs, and he realized that he hadn't been breathing the entire time he was dealing with the planet. He greedily sucked up the air he was missing, letting the cool oxygen finally circulate into his system.
Eventually, it reached a point where his mind was silent. No screaming, no psychic kickback, no call for help. He took solace in the fact that his influence still mattered, despite the time he had spent in that icy prison. With a sigh, he resigned himself to finding out where he was and whi had brought him here. He stood from the bed, letting the bones of his legs pop and crack as they were once more subjected to activity. He messaged his wrists as he walked towards the window that was letting moonlight into the room.
He looked out of the glass plane, finding himself in a city he didn't recognize. It looked unlike anything he'd ever seen; the buildings were made of the same yellowish brick that the room around him was made of and there was huge walls on the edge of the city that even he could see from so far away. The buildings themselves were simple, nothing like the intricate craftsmanship of the buildings he vaguely remembered from before his imprisonment.
He paused. He actually didn't remember much of anything before his imprisonment. He still didn't remember his name; only the title. Iglis Unith. Hell, he didn't even remember what that meant either. He vaguely remembered receiving it before he was imprisoned. He was in the captivity of... Someone, and they had named him Iglis Unith. A deep pang of guilt and fury pierced his heart, and he reached up to touch his chest. Had he done something horrible? He sighed when the answer once more defaulted to the fact that he didn't remember anything.
He looked back up at the window and saw a completely different sight.
Himself, staring back in the glass of the window. He looked... Different to what he remembered. Steel-gray hair covered his head, longer than it should've been and greyed most definitely due to age. He still had the blueish eyes that he remembered, but they were laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that surprised even him. He thought that his rest would've at least brought the light back into his eyes. His face was average, as far as Human beauty went. He noticed that he had a slight beard from his time in the polar environment, but nothing that couldn't be shaved off. He was still wearing the outfit he had been when he was tossed into the ice prison; a black shirt that now looked a little small on him, a black undershirt that was similar to a bodysuit, covering even his hands with a black fabric. A pair of black fibre pants covered his legs, with a dark belt completed by a silver belt buckle properly securing them to his waist. A pair of black socks covering what the pants didn't.
It became apparent to him that he desperately needed a change of ensemble. The black of his current outfit made him seem more like a ghost than a Man, not to mention he almost sunk into the shadows of the room just by standing still. It was only by the light of the moon and his reflection that he could properly see his clothes. His clothes were also tattered, and in places he could see fully dried and soaked in spots of blood; evidence of his battle in imprisonment.
He decided that he would worry about his clothing later. He still needed to figure out where he was, and who brought him here. He needed to ask them why, and to thank them endlessly. He had only been awake for a short period of time, but it was infinitely better than his experiences in the that icy prison. He turned and walked towards the small desk that Mortifer and his coat sat on. He reached out and lifted his coat from the chair it rested on, inspecting it as he did.
It was an ankle length long coat, colored a bright and vibrant red that he could see even outside of the moonlight. A hood was connected to the top of the coat, providing some protection from the sun or rain or whatever else. Along the coat were black markings, styled after lightning in design and giving the coat an homage to get rest of his clothing. The coat looked slightly worse for wear, with stains that he could tell weren't from the natural dye but instead from blood and small tears in the fabric. A shard of nostalgia pierced his chest and he remembered where he'd gotten the coat, if only distantly.
He remembered a shop. A small one, only managing to pay the bills by it's incredible quality and by the skin of it's teeth, but a nice shop nonetheless. A small woman handed him the folded up coat, with a distant statement for him to try it on. He did, and he found that it was the most comfortable thing he'd over worn. It wasn't long after that he needed to commission another as the original was destroyed somehow. The woman didn't care, it was good business.
With a faint smile, he ran a thumb across the poor and abused coat. He would need to have another one made. But he was thankful for the protection the coat had given him while he was imprisoned. Just like his sword, the cost had been an invaluable companion to help ward off the cold during battle. It wasn't what the coat was made to do, but it did the job better than a specifically made one. He then twirled the coat around his shoulders, slipping his arms into it and donning it with the grace and fluidity that he still remembered having before he was stuck in that place.
He looked over at the desk, initially going to decide whether or not to take Mortifer, but another thing caught his eye.
On the desk, laying face up, was his mask. It was a mostly decorative thing; made of easily breakable porcelain and colored with red and black the same way his coat and clothing were, but somehow it had managed to make it through all that hardship. He reached out, grabbing the mask with the care one would give to an infant and lifted it off the desk. It bore a few scratches on the surface and a couple stains on the edges that could be washed off, but overall it still looked elegantly crafted. From the front it was a decorative full face mask, looking like a type of mask someone who didn't want his face seen would wear. The nose for the mask was instead a small sharp point, and the eyes were two sideways diamond shaped holes.
He turned the mask, finding the little string that had initially been to hold it to his face, but later became useful for connecting the mask to his belt so he wouldn't lose it somewhere. The inside of the mask resembled the outside, albeit inverted. A few scratches, a stain or two, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. He felt surprised that it had lasted this long, especially in the fighting he had been doing for ages. He was grateful though; another memory of his life that he was happy to have carried over.
He lifted the mask, almost mindlessly, and placed it on his face. It still fit perfectly, and the weight on his face felt somehow comfortable. He let it drift away from his face as he used his free hand to tie back his hair, adjusting the grey locks into a small ponytail behind his head. He then took the string and tied it behind his head, being careful to be gentle with the string. It had been who knows how long, and he could easily snap it if he put too much strength into the action. It only took a little bit of time and care, but the string tied easily and secured the mask to his face adequately. He took a breath as he let the feeling of the mask settle.
It felt comforting. The weight and barrier between his face and the air gave him a sense of safety, on a level. He walked over to the window and looked at himself again, soaking in the image of himself with the mask.
It was like he was a completely different person with the mask on. His face was hidden from view, showing a completely different image. He resembled someone who wanted to be unknown; a mystery of a person, one that had yet to be solved. Another urge crept up within him, and he obeyed. With a simple smooth motion, he lifted his hands and pulled his hood over his head before looking back in the window.
Now what looked back at him felt completely different. The hood cast a shadow on his face and the mask, hiding even that from the world. Underneath the hood, he could see the faintest edges of the mask, and he got the feeling that what was looking back at him, in fact wasn't him at all. It was instead this unknowable thing, it's existence and identity hidden by shadows and kept from all but the most perceptive and observant. And somehow... He felt comfortable with that image. He himself didn't know who he was anymore except for the vaguest, most blurred details. He remembered tidbits, yes, but not nearly enough to make him feel comfortable.
But with this, he felt like he had that identity again. The identity of something that was unknown. He supposed, in a way, the image that stared back at him represented the lack of his memories; his lack of being a person anymore. There was so much behind what he had lost, so much that he no longer knew, but now it was an endless hole that had yet to be explored.
He realized he was lost in thought.
He turned and headed back to the desk and took a moment to look at his sword propped up against the wood. The weapon had been with him so long, and he didn't see a reason why he didn't need it now. With as little effort as breathing, he reached down, grabbed the sword by the scabbard and lifted it, taking a second to inspect the black leather for any signs of damage or wear. The leather itself was unharmed, but he could see the smallest stains of blood soaked into the scabbard. He frowned behind his mask; that was something that couldn't be washed out. He'd either have to make a new sheath or live with it.
He'd rather live with it.
Upon further inspection, be found the slot on the side of the sheath. He remembered what it was for; for easy access to Mortifer while he had it sheathed on his back. Normally a sword wouldn't be able to be drawn from the back, but a slot on the side fixed that problem. The rest of the scabbard was normal to him. Simple black leather, some faded dark embroidery that had mostly disappeared, and a few stains that he found he still hated the look of. With a deep breath, he lifted the weapon and slung it over his back, buckling the strap across his chest and keeping the sword in place.
The feeling of the weight on his back was a bigger comfort than the mask. He no longer felt defenseless; the Elements were powerful weapons, but he was unsure that he could fully control them after his entrapment. There were Elements he had not used for years, Ice being the main one. But the sword on his back was an absolute; a weapon that would never waver, a weapon he would never truly lose control over. He could get rusty and lose his footing yes, but it would never fall out of his grasp. Not if he could help it.
Muscle memory kicked in and he lifted his arm, drawing the sword in one smooth motion. Mortifer sang as she exited her sheath, the blade glittering in the moonlight. He took the time to look at his trusty weapon; he hadn't stopped to appreciate it in far too long.
Mortifer was a simple yet ornamented double edged long-sword, forged from a metal that he no longer remembered the name of. It was around forty inches long if he excluded the hilt, grip and pommel. It weighed just under a pound, but most of it's weight was right where the blade emerged from the handle. The blade itself was a masterfully crafted black colour, with only the very edges being colored a silver sheen. Along the middle of the blade ran Mideval runes that roughly translated to 'Bringer of Death'. The hilt was a simple T shaped guard made of a silver colored metal and twisted to make the guard look like it was a spiral. The handle was covered in a black leather wrap with silver string making a diamond pattern along it. The pommel was the same silver as the hilt, but it was shaped like a spike and sharpened to add another offense option.
He sighed and turned the blade, looking down the edge of the weapon. Thankfully, it bore no warps or bends in the edge and it hadn't been damaged during his endless combat. He was thankful for that; he didn't know what he would've done if Mortifer had shattered beyond repair in that hellish place. He let his arm go limp, using the momentum to carry Mortifer back up into it's sheath.
He took a moment to look at himself in the reflection of the mirror. Something completely different to what he had been when he broke free looked back.
He was ready now.
Volteer sighed as he sat in the library, a book in front of him. The words seemed to sink into his mind, but they didn't stick, so to speak. His thoughts were elsewhere, wondering when the Human would awaken and when he could get to work learning more about the ancient world from him. The library was mostly silent, save for the sound of crickets outside or the occasional hoot of a owl. That silence only made the time pass slower for him, as his thoughts were just as fast as the Element he was the Guardian of.
With a sigh, Volteer forced himself further into the tome he was nose deep in, ignoring the feeling of the spectacles on his snout. He'd recently been told by one of the healers in the temple that his vision was beginning to fail him, but not to the point of blindness. Instead, life saw fit to torture him further by forcing him to wear a set of glasses that he steadfastly hated. The paper under his claws felt familiar, which helped to alleviate the feeling of weight on his nose.
As he read, he pondered a few things. Why had that Human been locked in the North? Were they too dangerous to be kept around others of their kind? Were they simply the last of the Human race and put there to be safeguarded against whatever wiped them out? Did they willingly step into their prison to escape something or to pay penance? The possibilities were endless and it made the gnawing curiosity at the back of Volteer's mind even more ravenous, as if his desire to learn was a parasite feeding off his excitement.
Volteer released a quiet sigh as he felt the paper under his claws before turning the page. The book was one he'd read a thousand times over; a tome on the last remnants of Humanity and how they truly did exist. The evidence was overwhelming at this point. The Catacombs had existed since before Malefor's time which meant they predated even the Ancients themselves, proving that Humanity had indeed laid down the blueprints for other species to build.
The fact that the last remaining Human was residing in Warfang only made the evidence un-deniable.
Suddenly, a sound hit Volteer's ears. He looked up from his book, his eyes scanning the library for the source of the sound. The sound itself was strange; it was like the clacking of hooves on stone, but the pitch was off. Like whatever was making the sound was walking not on hooves, but instead something slightly different yet altogether the same.
The connection made itself in Volteer's head as the sound grew closer and his heart nearly leapt into his throat. The Human was awake! It was awake and exploring through the Dragon Temple, where it could very well be discovered by some poor restless young Drake who had yet to complete their Elemental training. Who knows what could happen if the Human deemed such a thing as a threat!
Before Volteer could stand and dash out into the corridors to stop anything unfortunate from happening, he heard the door to the library open. His worry turned to surprise as he looked over at the door, watching as a dark figure with a vaguely colored silhouette walked into the library, closing the door behind it. It walked quietly into the room, it's hood moving in various motions as it inspected the bookcases around it. In it's left hand was the small candle holder and a lit candle, the one that Volteer recognized as the candle they had left in the Human's room.
The Human looked around slightly before his eyes, or what Volteer could see underneath the hood and through the shadows, locked into the Guardian and the Human began to approach. Volteer could barely holding his excitement as he reached up and moves his glasses off his snout.
"Greetings, my friend! It's a relief to see you awake and moving."
The Human jolted for a second, taking a moment to steady it's hand on the candle holder to prevent himself from dropping it. It then approached further when it felt more stable. His voice then echoed through the room, sounding a little strained in the face of what he was experiencing.
"Greetings... Are thou' art the one who brought mine here?"
Volteer raised an eyebrow at the Human's speech. It was an old, old dialect of English. He had, of course, read and heard it spoken before, but he hardly thought someone would speak it unironically or outside the setting of a Shakespearian play. Volteer set his glasses on his desk and closed the book in front of him, steeling his excitement before turning towards the Human.
"Indeed. It was requested of me that I bring you here."
Volteer said, doing his best to summon his learned professor tone. The Human stared at him for a moment before looking around the room again. After that, he decided to step closer, revealing most of his form as he stepped into the path of some moonlight.
The Human was taller than Volteer had expected, standing at six feet tall. It was tall enough to stand level with the oldest of Dragons and average Cheetahs, but more than tall enough to stand above a Grublin or Mole. The Human was also fairly thin compared to some of the diagrams shown in various books and tomes that had depictions of them, including the Vitruvian Man which had set the standard for what Human appeared like in artistry by Dragon's and Moles alike. Though Volteer assumed most of the thiness resulted from lack of nutrition. The human also wore the mask they had found on his belt.
Volteer stopped inspecting the Human when his voice once more filled the room.
"I must give mine thanks. Thou saved me from... A fate worse than death. I wisheth that I had something of mine own to give as thanks, but I lack anything to mine name."
Volteer's eyes widened in disbelief as the Human went to kneel in front of him, and the Guardian immediately raised a hand to stop him. The Human paused for a moment, looking up at Volteer with what he could only assume was confusion.
"Please, don't kneel or bow. You don't need to thank me for anything. The reality that you exist is reward enough for me. But, if I may, what is your name?"
The Human looked up at him in an expression Volteer couldn't discern, mostly because of the mask the Human was wearing. He then stood from his half kneel, being careful to keep the candle away from the bookshelves which Volteer appreciated.
"I... Do not remember mine name. Mine memories are a haze... Only vague things shine through. I only remember mine title. Iglis Unith. If thou wish, you might call me by that title."
Volteer frowned. He had amnesia? That certainly made things difficult. If the Human didn't remember anything besides that title, then they couldn't learn any more about the past than what they already knew, which was a blow far stronger than anything Volteer could take physically. Volteer gestured to a nearby chair with his claw and took a seat of his own.
"Please, sit. You can set the candle on my desk. I'd like to discuss some things with you, if you don't mind."
Iglis gave a nod before moving over to the chair, grabbing the wooden thing by the back and moving it so that it was opposite to Volteer. Iglis then set the candle on Volteer's desk, being careful to set it away from the book the Guardian had been reading. The Human then took a shaky seat and Volteer noticed that Iglis was being doubly careful to avoid sitting directly on his coat.
Volteer sighed Iglis settled in his seat.
"Firstly, I should explain something to you. You aren't in any place you are familiar, even in terms of... Time itself. It's currently, from what our calendars say, the year 3057, nearly four years after the Calamity. Your species... That is to say, Humans, have been extinct for millennia. The World as we know it is now called The Dragon Realms, and only four prominent species remain constant."
"Calamity?"
Volteer nodded as the Human questioned him. The Guardian hadn't expected to explain things to a Human, but he would take what he could get.
"Indeed, but that's a story for another time. I do believe the point of what I'm trying to say is that the world is nothing like what you may remember, no matter how vague it might be."
Iglis nodded humbly, his hood shifting a little as he moved. He was leaning forward now, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his knuckles. Even in the dim moonlight, Volteer could tell that he was steadfastly keeping his eyes on the floor.
Volteer sighed as he did his best to explain.
The library was mostly silent as Volteer and Iglis let the information that had just been shared sunk in. Volteer sighed as he sat; originally he had found the history of the Dragon Realms up to Malefor's defeat, the collapse and restructuring of the World somewhat distant. It had been four years since the incident, after all. But retelling the tale to a creature infinitely more ancient than he revealed to him just how surreal the events were.
He had relayed all he considered important to the Human, including the fact that he resided in Warfang and that the only prominent races left were Dragon's, Cheetahs, Moles and what was left of the Apes, Cursed as they were. He also explained that a large part of Human history had been lost, having suffered some tragedy that left Human made ruins abandoned and then pilfered by other creatures.
To the surprise of Volteer, Iglis seemingly remained unfazed. He only nodded solemnly as Volteer explained the more somber parts of the Planet's history. In turn, the Human had relayed to him that he had been trapped beneath the ice of the north for reasons he himself couldn't remember, his memories having been wiped away by the endless combat he described.
It saddened Volteer to see what was idealized in Fairy Tales and Legends so broken and lost, but he knew it was representative of the state of Humanity itself; lost, broken and wandering to find a new purpose again.
They sat in silence for a while until Iglis spoke again. At this point, Volteer could describe Iglis' voice as deep and wizened, but at the same time innocent and somewhat naive like a child who has just awoken from a dream they couldn't describe properly.
"I... Mine thanks for relaying this information to me. I'm afraid mine heart hath no knowledge of where to go."
Volteer let Iglis pause, watching as the Human quietly wrung his hands in thought before continuing.
"It pains mine to request such of thou further, but... Might I ask to learn of thine world? Of thine city, as well?"
Volteer felt an excited smile creep onto his face. Iglis was considering staying in Warfang, which was good. It meant that if his amnesia cleared, then they had a good chance that they would be able to ask questions about Humanity's history.
"Oh, you don't need to apologise. It's an honor to have you here."
Volteer then stood from his place and wandered over to the library window, looking out into the night. The moon had just passed it's Zenith, slowly drifting towards the horizon to give way to the morning. Volteer sent Iglis another smile as he walked back.
"And I believe we have time for a tour. Come, I'll show you around."
Volteer walked towards the library door as Iglis got up, collected his candle and followed, having to step into a light jog to catch up for a moment. Volteer sent the Human a smile as he opened the door to the library and exited out into the halls of the Dragon Temple, being careful to watch for any patrolling guards or insomniac students. When he confirmed that there was no one in sight, he motioned for Iglis to follow before walking out into the hallway.
The halls were fairly quiet as they walked, excluding the sound of Iglis' boots on the floor and Volteer's own claws making a clacking sound. The walk was calm as well, with Iglis staring out of the many windows of the Temple to see Warfang. It wasn't long before they reached a room Volteer was happy to show Iglis.
They entered into a large room, similar to a lounge. A few bookshelves lined the walls and circular tables dotted the room. A small circular area lied in the middle of the room, engraved with the image of a Guardian Dragon. They'd long since gotten rid of any images of Malefor similar to the statue of him in the original Dragon Temple, given he was now the villain of every story they told about him. Iglis stopped for a moment as he took it in, his eyes inspecting the place from behind his mask.
"This is the lounge. It's for anyone who many have business with the Guardian's to wait for their business to conclude, or for students who wish to relax during lunch break. I prefer the library myself."
"Thou teacheth youth here?"
Iglis asked, his voice echoing through the chamber. For a moment, a strange feeling filled Volteer's chest. As the words of the human echoed off the walls, he felt as if he was truly speaking to one of the last remnants of the ancient past, the old dialect and deep voice further reinforcing that reality. The Guardian spared another smile as he replied.
"Indeed. We train young drakes and dragonlings to use their Elements and master them. Some even go on to be Guardian's themselves."
Iglis nodded, and Volteer restarted their walk. Iglis waited for a few seconds, taking his time to memorize the area before following. They entered another hallway, their footsteps and claws clacking one the stone floors as they walked.
"Thou art... Guardians? What be thine guard for? Does thine face a great threat?"
Iglis questioned as they walked, seemingly getting more comfortable with the tour. Volteer shook his head before explaining.
"Oh no, not anymore. Before the Catastrophe four years ago, we were true and proper Guardian's. We were the last bastion between Dragon-kind and Malefor's Dark Army. There were only four of us left by the end of it, and three after the planet shattered. Now we're simple elites of our species, and we work to restore our numbers in case something like what happened occurs again."
Iglis only nodded along as Volteer rambled, the Human's eyes glittering a little behind the mask and in the moonlight. They walked for a few minutes, soon reaching a larger chamber that was easily three times bigger than the Lounge. The stone doors to the room were automatic, like the ones in the old Dragon Temple and opened as soon as they approached. Volteer watched Iglis marvel at the sight as they entered.
They now stood in a massive chamber, being at least a hundred feet wide and the ceiling somewhere around one-hundred and fifty. Murals of ancient Masters of the Elements lined the walls, with a few Dragon's being depicted unleashing the epitome of their strength onto large swaths of opposing armies. In the middle of the room was a small circle, lined by a set of grate's that lead into more darkness. A massive metal chandelier hung from the ceiling, suspended by four thick chains made of a brass colored metal. The chandelier wasn't lit though, exposing the skylight above it where moonlight shined brilliantly into the area.
The room also dipped downward towards the center, having two small staircases leading down to the circular platform. Beside the staircases were solid stone landings, built for students and adults alike to sit and watch anything that happened in the area.
Iglis took a few steps into the room, turning on his heel to get the full scale of the place. Volteer could practice see the gears turning in the Human's head and for a moment he wondered what Iglis was thinking about. There were three more doors to the room besides the one they'd entered through, with all of them being the same automated kind of door. Volteer glanced at the wall to his right and at the door that sat there, a small thought starting to work it's way into his mind.
"This is the training area. It's much larger than the other rooms, as you can see. We built it this way to prevent any accidents with area covering elemental techniques. Those grates there lead into small tunnels underneath the room so that the builder Moles can easily repair any damage to the foundation."
Iglis didn't seem to be listening as Volteer talked, simply walking slowly down the staircase and into the middle of the room before looking up at the bottom of the massive chandelier. As the Human inspected the room, Volteer's vestige of a thought then burst into a full bloom.
"Come, there's... Something I'd like to show you."
Volteer said before making his way down the staircase himself. Iglis looked at him in confusion as he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned right, climbing another staircase on his way to the North door. Iglis followed after him a second later, having taken a second to realize what Volteer was going for. The two scaled the steps slowly, eventually reaching the large door on the north side of the room.
The door didn't automatically open like the other door. Instead, there was a small circle just in front of the door, with a cast of a Dragon's paw imbedded into the stone. Iglis stared in amazement as Volteer fit his paw into the imprint and put his weight onto it. The small circle slid downwards, with a small click resounding from underneath the floor. The door then made a whirring sound and opened like the previous one, but took a little longer to fully open.
"Come."
Volteer said, motioning for Iglis to follow before stepping forward and through the door. Iglis nodded and followed after him, though he still managed to look at the automated door as he walked. They stepped into another hallway, but this one lacked any sort of windows. Instead it was a circular style hallway, with the sides lit by small torch sconces that shed gentle yellow light into the room. The door closed behind them as they walked into the hallway and Iglis paused for a second. He continued following when he noticed another paw print mechanism on the ground.
They walked down the hallway silently, with Iglis closely watching his surroundings as they moved. The walls seemed painfully bare at first, but he then noticed as faded scriptures began to appear in the stone. Most of it was undecipherable due to old age and wear, but some of it resembled Latin in origin and some words were able to be read, but Iglis didn't look hard enough to tell what they said. They walked for around a minute or two, with the walls now sporting red banners that hung from the sides.
They soon came to a another automatic door and Volteer stopped before he set foot on the activation mechanism. He then looked back at Iglis with no trace of the smile and warm expression he had previously, having replaced it with seriousness.
"I must warn you before we proceed. What you're about to see are highly treasured artifacts. I just ask that you try to keep your hands to yourself."
Iglis remained silent for a moment, staring into the Electric Guardian's eyes. When the Human saw what he was looking for, he nodded. Volteer only nodded back before pressing his paw into the opening mechanism.
The door opened to reveal a small room filled with old, yet refurbished and cleaned artifacts. The room wasn't large by any means, but more than a hundred artifacts recovered from Human ruins and burial sites rested within. The room seemed to hold a little bit of everything, varying from small scraps of paper to full books of knowledge, old broken weapons to completely functional and enchanted weaponry and even suits of armor.
"Thou recovered only these?"
Iglis asked as he walked into the room, his coat fluttering a little as he stepped inside. Volteer remained at the Human's side, waiting for a sign that some of the amnesia had lifted.
"Yes. Most of your culture was lost to time, the elements and especially the Cataclysm. Entire ruins full of priceless pieces were lost when it took place."
Volteer watched as Iglis approached a book resting on a pedestal. The Human was gentle as he lifted the leather bound tome, quietly opening it to look at it's contents. Volteer then noticed that something about the Human had changed; Iglis was now tense and somewhat over-careful, with his legs wobbling ever so slightly as he stood.
"So much hath been lost..."
Volteer was snapped out of his observation when Iglis spoke, his hands extremely gentle as he closed the book and set it back down. The Human then moved over to a small pedestal with an Eastern sword resting on it. Iglis gently brushed a finger across the sword before moving to a different piece.
This time he stopped in front of a long, ornate spear. The weapon was sitting in a small display that allowed it to stand upright. The spear consisted of a long black leather wrapped handle lined with golden thread, a small and deadly look second speartip on the bottom and a large ornately made blade on the top. The blade itself was framed by two golden metal half-circles, meant to catch an opponent's weapon.
Iglis gently reached out and grabbed the spear, lifting it from the display. He looked at it forlornly before speaking.
"Might I be permitted to... Keep this?"
Iglis asked, looking back at Volteer. The Electric Guardian saw something behind the mask in that moment; a hint of recognition. Something had bubbled to the surface in the Human's mind, something that had driven him to want to have the artifact in his hands. What that something was, Volteer couldn't begin to guess.
"Yes, I suppose you could. I doubt you'd break it, anyway."
Volteer answered. He couldn't bring himself to refuse the Human's request. He believed that if Iglis had asked for everything in the room back, he would've gladly given it back to it's rightful owner. Though now, the only rightful owner was the last member of Mankind itself.
Iglis nodded and let the spear fully drift away from the stand. Volteer noticed that Iglis had kept the weapon near the display in case he had refused, which did wonders to lift Volteer's anxiety that Iglis was in fact going to take it anyway.
"Might I ask what it is? I mean, we know it's a spear, but some of the text we've recovered say it's special."
Volteer asked. He was telling the truth; the small area they'd originally found the spear in told legends about the spear's sharpness and speed, even likening the weapon to Electricity itself. Iglis looked over at the Guardian before speaking.
"I... Only recall small things, but this weapon hath at one time been known as Fulgur Framea. It hath capabilities akin to Electricity, and hath been enchanted with it. Now, it feels as if it's power hath been spent. But mine own powers can restore it, to an extent."
Volteer felt excitement and happiness creep up within him. The amnesia Iglis had was lessening with every second and he had recalled something important. The fact that the artifact could be restored didn't seem as important as the signs that Iglis' memory was beginning to return. But additionally, this was also a chance to learn more about the spear itself.
"That's wonderful! I would love to record some of it's abilities when you have the chance."
Iglis looked over at Volteer with an expression that the Guardian couldn't read. But Volteer got the impression that the Human was amused by his words. Iglis nodded before replying.
"Perhaps... Perhaps."
With that, the two fell into silence for a moment. Iglis continued to inspect the weapon, now revealed to be named Fulgur Fremea, while Volteer looked around at the artifacts in the room. The Guardian suppressed a sigh as he looked on at the many objects whose significance was now on the verge of being rediscovered, but were prevented from becoming pertinent due to the wounds of their Master's mind.
Volteer looked over at Iglis as saw a man who had lost his way; a creature ancient that it's own history had been lost alongside it's species. Volteer could only hope that the Human would be willing to help them if the need arouse.
"Iglis, may I ask you a question?"
Volteer called gently. Iglis looked over and nodded, letting Framea fall into a more comfortable position instead of resting in both of his hands.
"What do you plan to do now that you're free?"
Volteer asked. He had to admit that he was scared of the answer to his own question; he sincerely hoped that the Human would remain in Warfang so that they could learn at least a slight bit more. Iglis stayed quiet for a second, looking down at the floor in thought. He remained silent for a while, with Volteer watching intently.
Just as Volteer began to think his query would go unanswered, Iglis looked up and replied.
"I believe I will remain here for now, if thou would have me. I must regain mine memories, no matter how scattered they might be."
Iglis answered, a tone of determination in his voice. Volteer smiled as relief filled his heart.
"The welcome to Warfang, Iglis Unith. It is a pleasure to have you as our guest."
