Act I - GUARDIANA

Chapter I - The Lost Child

I

Standing tall as he observed the sun beginning to set, the new Lord exhaled deeply.

It had been a highly chaotic day for him, and the city of Guardiana. His ceremony had been marred by protests, the nature of which he was nowhere near as aware of as he'd have liked. He was fully aware of the additional responsibility that came with being the Lord of the King's Army, and in not knowing why protests were occurring, he couldn't help but feel he'd already made a major failing before he'd even began.

He perhaps may not have felt so bad if not for the damage to the church, finding himself wishing the castle walls had taken damage instead, if anything had to. Castle walls were rugged and designed for punishment. Castle walls got stronger with every failed attempt to bring them down. But the church? The church was holy ground, not meant to take punishment either spiritually or physically. Though the damage wasn't great, it would take time and resources to repair that could be better spent elsewhere.

He could only be relived that no civilian buildings seemed to have been damaged. The rest – why the protests occurred, and what could be done to prevent them from happening again – would follow in due course.

In the meantime, he was content to simply stand on the seafront, breathe in the salty air, and contemplate. The real work would begin tomorrow, and even in peacetime, there was always plenty to do. The recent decision of Guardiana's distant twin city, Protectora, to shed its name was strange, to say the least. He made a mental note to send a message to their king in the morning and begin looking into the reasons for the change, as well as what they wished to be called going forward.

He'd have certain responsibilities to reforge relationships with nearby cities, too. Alterone, Manarina… he shivered slightly at the thought of visiting Manarina. He'd never met a mage he felt he could trust and being in a city full of them made his hair stand on end. Not least because for every strange, old, eccentric mage there with all kinds of spells at their command, there were three student mages who could barely control the spells they were able to perform. He'd heard recent scattered rumours of an errant freeze spell cast by a student putting one of the professors under the care of the healers for a few days when it caught her off guard.

He suddenly became aware of human footsteps on the wind at what seemed like a running pace. After a few seconds, he realised they were getting closer, and he turned to find the source.

"Lord Varios!"

The steps and the call came from a boy of pre-adolescent age who the centaur recognised, with grey hair and wearing the distinct green and yellow robes of a cleric in training. He stopped about ten paces from where he stood and immediately slouched, gasping for breath.

"Ahh, good evening… it's Lowe, isn't it?" The boy nodded, still struggling to breathe. "What can I do for you?"

The boy took a deep breath, sucking in a deep lungful of air to steady himself.

"I'm sorry my Lord… I don't mean to disturb you…" he took in another deep breath as he forced out his words, pointing frantically in the direction he ran from. "I found a body… on the shore… think it was washed up."

Varios immediately tensed. "Someone washed up on the shore? Are they alive?"

"Not sure… can't move them by myself… too far from the city, but I saw you down here…"

The Lord nodded reassuringly. "You did the right thing coming to me, Lowe. Let's go."

Immediately, he took off at a gallop, albeit hindered by the sand of the beach. Behind him, Lowe muttered to himself as he began to follow, though he had no chance of keeping up with the pace of the centaur.

Idly, Varios found himself relieved that this happened now instead of a little while later. It wouldn't be long until nightfall, and at that point it was unlikely that whoever this was would've been found.

Examining the shoreline as he ran, he suddenly ground to a halt upon seeing the body in question. A body dressed in dirty white rags lay face down in the surf, clearly unconscious. Knowing that the body may have already been there for several minutes, he hoped he hadn't arrived too late.

Varios knelt on his front legs to examine the body, turning it over in the surf to face upwards. He was presented with another young boy – probably not much older than Lowe himself – with shaggy, light brown hair. A quick examination revealed that he was carrying no weapon, no armour, and a strange-looking burn on his right arm that didn't look as though it had been caused by fire. It was accompanied by a scorch mark on the sleeve of the boy's clothing, so it was obviously recent, but he couldn't afford to think too much about it at that moment.

Grabbing the boy by his hands, he began to pull him from the surf using his hind legs. A twinge of pain in the hip of his right hind leg made him wince; an old battle wound making itself known once again.

After pulling him a short distance, enough to get him out of range of the tide, Varios let him go to examine him once more. Aside from the strange burn on his arm, he appeared to be uninjured. It wasn't anyone he recognised from Guardiana, leaving him with the assumption that it was either someone he just didn't know or a stranger from another land.

Dismissing the thought as irrelevant for now, he began to check the boy for signs of life. The light had faded enough by now to render him unable to see any colour in his face, so he instead pressed his hand against the boy's chest, looking for a heartbeat. After a few seconds and a couple of changes of position, he was relieved to find a normal, steady rhythm, albeit somewhat shallow.

At that point, he heard running steps catch up to him again, and turned to see Lowe slowing to a stop, immediately hunching over, his breathing laboured further from the exertion.

"He's alive," Varios said. "Just unconscious. We need to bring him to the healers immediately."

Lowe nodded, panting. "Do you need me to do anything, my Lord?"

Varios considered for a moment. He knew little of the young cleric, but what he had heard of him was good. He knew building relationships with future generations would be a large factor in his success as a Lord, and he decided now was as good a time as any.

"I can take it from here, but I would like you to accompany me," he replied, beginning to gather the unconscious boy in his arms to lift him. "There's a good chance you've saved this boy's life by finding him and taking the action you did, and I will personally see that you are commended for that."

He earned a look of shock from the boy, at which he smiled to himself as he lifted the stranger's unconscious form. His hind leg protested again as he drew back up to his full height.

"T-thank you, my Lord… that's very generous of you."

Varios chuckled to himself. "Nonsense, dear boy. It's the least you deserve. Now, let us get this boy some help."

Varios couldn't help smirking to himself as he trotted toward the dwelling in the castle he shared with his daughter. He'd felt vindicated in his decision to have the young healer accompany him as soon as he saw the look of shock on his seniors' faces as the two walked in, particularly when Varios stressed that Lowe was more responsible for finding the boy than he was. Varios got the impression that Lowe was not looked upon too favourably by his elders, though he couldn't imagine why. The boy seemed to be smart enough and have a good attitude to his education; it just didn't make sense to him, unless the seniors happened to act that way toward all their students.

He was snapped from his reverie by the sound of the unmistakable thump of a spear hitting a training dummy coming from his dwelling, and he found himself sighing inwardly. His daughter, too, been struggling with aspects of her education recently. Not so much the education itself, but certainly those sharing it with her.

With her, he understood the situation a little better; her peers took exception to her position as the daughter of a legendary knight, and no matter the level of her own skill or how well she studied, she would always be accused of riding on his coattails. It was sad, but he knew it was the way of children. As frustrating as it was in the now, he knew her ability and dedication would bring her to glory in the end.

Of course, he just had to keep trying to convince her of that in the meantime.

Reaching his dwelling, he entered the large garden behind the dwelling just in time to see a spear whizz across his view, hitting the dummy with another satisfying thump. He looked at it and saw that it had been hit square in the middle of the chest, as he expected. He smiled to himself, proud of the skill she was developing.

"I think you killed it," he said assuredly, the hint of humour in his voice earning a glare from her, though he could tell he was not the subject of it.

"It's a dummy, father. It can't be killed," she responded curtly. She immediately began to trot over towards the dummy to retrieve the spear, clenching her jaw and readjusting her long blonde hair into a second tail as she did.

Varios sighed to himself. The volatility of youth, as always. He was deeply, intensely proud of her and the woman she was becoming, but she'd definitely inherited her mother's hard-nosed, stubborn streak. As a knight, it would be a valuable trait. But while she was still in her adolescent years, it was a pain in his rump.

"What troubles you, Mae?" he said softly, approaching her as she began to tug on the spear, which refused to budge. She groaned louder and louder with each pull, eventually giving up after the fourth try and letting out a loud growl.

"The things my schoolmates say, father," she grumbled, her voice having dropped an octave so she sounded almost despondent. "They say I'll have an even easier time now you've been promoted. They say I wouldn't be as good as I am if I wasn't your daughter…" Her face hardened with an angry edge, as she took one more attempt to pull the spear from its dummy, giving off another loud groan as she strained.

"They're wrong, my dear," Varios said assuredly. "They have all had access to the same education as you. No special skill has been granted to you simply by being my daughter. You have developed your skills yourself, and you have developed them so well because you are exceptional."

He placed his hand on the back of her horse-half, a common gesture of comfort among centaurs, and her head dropped.

"They may say these things now, but in time, when you are all knights, your skill and commitment will place you ahead of them. And after the first time your skills save their lives, they will be forever thankful to you."

The girl wiped a tear away from her eye, and she whipped her hair around to fall in front of her shoulder, as she did when she was trying to distract herself.

"Thank you, father. I just… I want to be seen for who I am. And I want to make you proud."

Varios smiled.

"You make me prouder every day than you could ever know, my dear. Now," he took hold of the spear and yanked it free with a single hard tug, and Mae looked on, opening her mouth to protest.

"Throw it again from ten paces further back. Then it's time for bed."

Lowe had had the buzz of his commendation from Lord Varios knocked out of him almost as soon as the knight had left the room.

The senior healers, while proffering their acknowledgements to the Lord and promising that their student would be well rewarded for his efforts, seemed to have immediately forgotten about it the second his back was turned. And now here he was again, grumbling to himself while he scrubbed the walls of the latrines, making every effort not to dry-heave from the lingering stench.

He really thought this would be the thing to turn his situation around. His whole life, he'd been dedicated to his goal of becoming a healer. He'd enrolled in the school as soon as he was eligible and studied as hard as he felt capable and then some. And two years later, between the indifference of his tutors and the mocking at the hands of his fellow students, all he had to show for his efforts was a basic healing spell and an increased proficiency with a brush and scrubbing pads.

It definitely wasn't an ideal situation, and more than once he'd found himself questioning his life choices. He just didn't know what else he could do, and the events of that night had just shaken his already dwindling confidence even further. He suspected there may have been a deeper reason behind the lack of respect from his peers, but he couldn't even begin to imagine what it could be.

His train of thought was broken by the sudden sound of coughing from down the hallway. His stomach lurched when he realised the direction it was coming from, and he immediately dropped his cleaning equipment and started to run towards the sound.

Burning… smoke… ashes… choking…

The boy flailed as he awoke with a start, immediately clutching at his throat and convulsing violently as he broke into a coughing fit. Each cough added to the feeling of a tight grip around his head as he struggled to get a clean breath.

Chest… burning…

A voice in the back of his mind whispered to him, encouraging him to take slow, deep breaths. But for all his effort, he still struggled.

Where… that voice…?

He looked around the room as best he could but could see no one. In fact, the more he was able to look, the more he realised he had no idea where he was.

Don't panic…

Gradually, his coughs began to slow, the pain gripping his chest beginning to ease. He was just beginning to really take stock of the room he was laid on when a door to his side crashed open, and he instinctively jumped off the object he was laid on, landing in a defensive stance. His right hand reached down to his left hip, and to his surprise, grasped at nothing.

Wha… my sword…?

"It's ok! I'm not going to hurt you!" A boy's voice said frantically, though the voice sounded… muffled. Looking toward the source, he could see a young man, maybe about his age, with shaggy grey hair and wearing a floor length green and yellow robe. He was holding his hands up in front of him and crouching slightly, waggling them to show he was unarmed.

He tried to speak, but his voice came out in just a hoarse croak. The grey-haired boy opposite him stood up slightly straighter, though he kept holding his hands out in front of him for good measure.

"My name is Lowe," he said unsteadily, as if not yet completely sure of his own safety. "We found you washed up on the shore, unconscious. We weren't sure if you were going to live…"

The boy relaxed from his defensive stance a little, realising that reaching for his sword wouldn't do much good while he didn't have one. At the back of his mind, the voice presented itself again, almost sounding like a whisper on the wind.

You can trust him…

He looked around, confused, trying to find the source of the voice but noticing some details of the room as he did. A pair of lanterns burned brightly on opposite walls, with the object he'd been laid on in the centre, set out like a bed. Shelves were scattered around the room, lined with books and containers filled with coloured liquids.

"What is this place…?" he eventually managed to say, his voice still hoarse. His throat scratched as he spoke, and he had to fight off the urge to cough.

"You're in one of the healing rooms, in the church of Guardiana," Lowe said, lowering his hands, causing the boy to flinch slightly. "We brought you here after I found you on the shore."

Searching his memory, the boy was startled to find nothing but mist in his mind. A deep sense of unease began to take hold in the pit of his stomach. "What is Guardiana?" he eventually asked, earning a confused glance from Lowe.

"It's… the most southern city of the West island, in the lands of Rune," Lowe replied, seemingly surprised by the question. "That's where we are." The boy only found himself feeling more confused and began to search his memory again, only to be met with mist once again. The unease in his stomach grew.

Why can't I remember?

"What's your name?" Lowe said, his voice softening as he began to take a step closer to the boy, stopping himself when the boy retreated slightly in response. A hint of distress crossed his features, concern growing at the mist filling his mind before the answer came to him like a flash of lightning and he blurted out it before he could stop himself.

"Max."

Inwardly, he cursed himself for saying it so quickly, and yet, his subconscious felt a twinge of relief at recalling his name. The voice in the back of his mind returned, seemingly talking to itself as much as anything else.

Good… all is not lost…

Confusion crossed his features once again, trying to figure out where the ethereal voice was coming from. It seemed to be coming from all around him, drifting through the space in his mind.

"…nybody home?"

He suddenly registered Lowe talking to him, forcing him from his daydream. He shook his head quickly, forcing himself back to the present.

"Sorry, say that again?" A hint of amusement laced Lowe's features, though Max idly decided that he couldn't fault his patience.

"I just asked where you're from," he replied. He'd having stopped moving towards him at this point, instead having decided to lean against the bed upon which Max had been laid.

"I'm… from…" A pang of fear hit him as his thoughts ran into mist once again. His stomach tied itself in a knot.

"I… don't know… I can't remember." A hint of panic crept into his voice, startling Lowe slightly, and his breathing quickened for a moment before he got a handle on it. "Why can't I remember?"

Remembering the voice in the back of his head, he clenched his fist as he again began to search the walls and ceiling for the source. Gritting his teeth, his nostrils flared as he felt a surge of anger.

"Speak to me! TELL ME!" he growled, his eyes wide. Lowe took a step back momentarily, although he didn't notice. "What is this fog in my mind? Why can't I remember?"

He waited a few seconds, and no response came. Almost as quickly as the anger had risen, it disappeared, and he hung his head, running his hands through his hair. Tentatively, Lowe took a step towards him once again.

"Look, Max… I'm sorry for whatever you're feeling right now, but I have no answers for you," he said, wishing he could offer some positivity. "I'll find you a comfier chamber so you can try and get some more rest, and then in the morning, let me bring you to Lord Varios. He helped me bring you back here from where I found you, he'll know what to do."

Max nodded, dejected. "Lord Varios… is he one of your leaders?"

"Yes," Lowe replied, his voice perking up a little. "As of earlier today, he's the commander of the Knights of Guardiana. He'll know how to help you."

Max considered this for a moment. Deep down, he knew he didn't really have a choice. Whatever events had transpired that had vanished from his memory, he was in a strange land, around people he didn't know. Lowe claimed that he and this Lord Varios had saved him from drowning on the shore. If what he said was true, he decided, then he at least owed the pair of them his thanks.

Slowly, he nodded his head in assent. "Very well."

Lowe smiled; relief etched on his face. "Let me get you a new robe first. It wouldn't do to keep you wearing that dirty old thing."

As Lowe scuttled out of the door in search of some new clothing, Max examined what he was wearing. It was a dirty, raggedy robe, tattered and torn, which might have been white once upon a time. He held his hands out in front of him and a large burn mark on the right arm caught his attention. Examining it, he gasped when he saw the burn extended to his skin, having left a flesh wound almost half the size of his hand.

At that point, Lowe re-entered the room, carrying a folded grey robe and a pair of small brown boots. As he looked up, Max pointed to the wound on his arm.

"Oh, that was there when we found you," Lowe offered weakly, by way of explanation. "Obviously a burn, but to be honest I don't know what might have caused it."

Max nodded uneasily as Lowe handed him the robe before he made to leave. "I'll go and find you a new chamber, and have word sent to Lord Varios that you've woken up, and make sure he's expecting us in the morning. I'll be back to fetch you in a few minutes." Bowing his head, he backed out of the door, closing it behind him.

As Max made to remove the dirty white rags he was wearing, he began to search his mind for any trace of memory again, trying his best to keep his emotions clear as he did so.

It was as if he were looking into a thick fog, if fog were something tangible that could hold him in place. The harder he tried to remember, the more the fog pushed back against him. He could sense… something. But he couldn't even begin to comprehend what that something was.

His thoughts moved to the ethereal voice he'd heard a few times. Was that what he could feel? Was there some other kind of consciousness corrupting his memories? As he pulled the new grey robe Lowe had given him on, he shook his head dejectedly. Any real thought into what had happened to him would have to wait.

After he finished lacing up the brown boots he'd been given, he stood up and put weight on both his feet, satisfied with the fit. Sitting back down to wait for Lowe to return, he started wondering what his meeting with this Lord Varios would bring.

By morning, word had begun to spread.

Two of the castle guards had come to escort Max and Lowe to meet with Varios, meeting them at the church gates. Walking through the town had been a strange experience. Strangers lined the streets, trying and often failing to look like they weren't watching. He could hear them whispering among themselves, asking if anyone had heard anything of the mysterious stranger who had washed up on the shore the night before, expressing shock that he now seemed to be walking among them. As far as he could tell, the only thing anyone had heard was the fact that he existed, and even then, most of them didn't seem to be sure until they set eyes on him.

It made him feel uneasy. Who was he, to warrant this kind of attention? As far as he knew, he was a total nobody. A nobody with a strange voice echoing through his mind, inaudible to anyone but him. He'd have thought it was his own voice, trying to check his own sanity, if it hadn't been female.

He found himself shaking his head, the beginnings of a headache creeping up on him as he tried to keep himself from thinking too much. So many questions that were impossible to answer.

Dragging himself out of his reverie, he'd begun to marvel at the castle around him as he entered the gates with Lowe. The young, grey-haired boy who'd been almost ever present since he awoke seemed to be something of an oddity. He was clearly friendly, if a little twitchy in himself. He found himself idly wondering what had made him so keen to help, before realising that with no basis for comparison, maybe everyone in this strange land possessed the same quality.

As he'd admired the gardens and small houses adorning either side of the castle proper, he'd caught sight of a young female centaur, with white fur and shoulder-length blonde hair pulled into a second tail, staring at him. He couldn't quite decipher the look on her face, although she didn't turn away after making eye contact as the villagers had. Her gaze was almost magnetic, and he found himself unable to pull away until she was out of sight.

"That's Mae," Lowe suddenly said, making him jump. "Lord Varios' daughter. She's definitely inherited his skills, but she's hardly the warmest of people. He must have mentioned you to her."

A chill ran down his spine. Come on, stop worrying.

As they entered the foyer of the church, Max's mood instantly changed. Rows of spears lined the walls, from which hung drapes of luxurious-looking purple and gold material. The walls were pristine, having been well maintained and never seeing battle in their life. The foyer had two heavy wooden doors on either side of the room, and up ahead an archway was adorned with more decorative material, with two more guards standing watch.

Must be the throne room, Max thought as they approached. The two guards stood aside, stamping their front right feet in unison as they did so.

Sure enough, he looked ahead and saw the throne of the King of Guardiana... empty. He quirked an eyebrow at the ornate throne, similarly coloured to the decorations around the room with gold structure and purple material. He couldn't help feeling as though it were a little minimalist for the seat of a monarch.

"Apologies, young man," a deep, commanding voice boomed from beside the throne. He looked over and saw two figures approaching him; a squat man in dark blue robes with grey skin and a large, drooping moustache with small spectacles, and besides him, another centaur, at least half a head taller than the guards, wearing glittering silver armour without as much as a scratch on it, again decorated with luxurious purple material. Max couldn't help but wither slightly under his gaze, despite the towering centaur's body language being entirely non-threatening.

"I was hoping King Guardiana would be able to join us, but alas, he has been called away at short notice. Nevertheless, allow me to extend a formal welcome to you. I am Lord Varios of Guardiana," he said, placing a hand on his breastplate, before he gestured to the smaller figure alongside him. "And this is the King's chief advisor, Nova." The man nodded cordially, but said nothing.

Max nodded in return to them both, smiling uneasily. "Thank you. My name is... Max." He paused before saying his name, finding himself having to take a second to remember through the fog still laid over his memory. "I just wanted to say thank you for saving me."

Varios smiled in return. "You are most welcome, of course. Young Lowe there did a good job of alerting me to your condition." Max looked to his side and saw Lowe trying his best to hide a proud smile. "I hope you have found your time here comfortable so far."

"Yes, thank you. Lowe was very helpful when I awoke, though I'm still no clearer on what's going on."

Varios' face turned serious. "That's what I was hoping to discuss with you next. Lowe informed me that you were in some distress, seemingly to do with your memory, from what he told me. I wanted to ask you personally."

The knot in Max's stomach returned. He'd laid awake for hours during the night, desperately searching for something, anything in his memories once he'd calmed down from the initial shock upon waking up. But everywhere he turned, there was only endless fog. He closed his eyes and shook his head, composing himself.

"I... whatever has happened in the past to bring me here, I'm unable to remember. The first memory I have is waking up in your healing room. Aside from that... all I can recall is my name."

Varios studied him as he spoke, seemingly deep in thought. There was a pregnant pause after Max stopped speaking before he replied. "I see. We noticed that there is a rather large burn on your arm. It looks far too precise to have been caused by magic, but it doesn't appear to be any form of branding either. Do you know anything about how that occurred?"

Max lifted his right arm, studying his clothing at the point which the burn lay. In truth, he'd completely forgotten about it.

"I'm afraid not," he replied uncertainly. "It must have occurred at a time I cannot remember."

Once again, he saw Varios studying him, though not as intensely as before. After a few more seconds that felt like minutes, he nodded again, seeming to come to a decision.

"Nova."

The king's advisor clapped twice, and Max looked around to see one of the centaurs which had been guarding the door walking towards the group, a short sword in each of his hands. A sense of trepidation began building in Max's stomach. He glanced at Lowe, who had begun to look equally worried. Varios began to move around to Max's left, where Lowe was stood.

"Lowe, if you wouldn't mind."

Cautiously, Lowe moved to the side. He looked as though he wanted to ask Varios what was happening, but didn't want to question the towering knight. The guard carrying the swords reached Varios first and handed him a sword, before moving across to Max and handing the other sword to him. Despite himself, he tested its weight, getting a comfortable grip on the hilt.

"Defend yourself!" Varios suddenly shouted, closing the short distance between them in the blink of an eye as he heard Lowe gasp in surprise. A twinge of panic flashed through Max's mind before an odd calm set in, and time seemed to slow down as Varios made to attack, aiming a swiping blow to Max's left arm. To his surprise, his swordbearing arm shot across, deflecting the attack, before he aimed a piercing blow straight ahead. Varios anticipated this, bringing his own sword underneath Max's to parry the blow and send Max's arm to his right, opening him up to another attack.

Max braced himself in preparation of having a sword pointed at his chest, but instead, Varios raised his own sword high, aiming a hammer blow downwards. Without thinking, Max lifted his sword above his head in a defensive move, adding his second hand to the hilt to aid his strength. He took a breath and braced himself to catch the incoming blow, but to his surprise, it didn't connect with nearly as much power as he expected.

He looked up to see Varios barely even holding his attack in place. Instead, he was smiling.

"It seems to be as you theorised, Nova."

Releasing his attack, Varios allowed his swordbearing arm to fall to his side.

"I apologise for the... abruptness of that test." Max cocked his head.

"Test?"

This time, it was Nova who replied to him. "Lowe mentioned that you immediately fell into a swordsman's defensive position when you awoke and realised he was there." The old man's voice was frail, but undoubtedly honed by years of education. "Between that and the apparent issue with your memory, I suspected that before your memory loss, you had received combat training. Very good combat training, so it would seem."

Varios nodded in assent. "I've been a knight for over half of my life. I know instincts honed by training when I see them. And yours would appear to be very advanced for someone your age, which leads me to assume that either you first picked up a sword before you could walk and have received the very best training since then, or you're extremely talented."

Despite himself, Max couldn't help but chuckle at Varios' frank assessment. "I would hope it would be the latter."

Varios smiled. "As would I. Of course, it's entirely possible that both are true. Nevertheless, this leads me to make a proposal to you, Max. I hereby grant you indefinite leave to remain in Guardiana, should you wish to. Arrangements shall be made for you to have a dwelling at the church, and you will be enrolled in education suitable for your intelligence once we are able to assess it. Furthermore, as the newly appointed commander of the Knights of Guardiana... I'm going to be in need of a squire. The position is yours, should you desire it."

Max's eyes opened wide in surprise, and not for the first time, he found himself unable to think of how best to reply.

"I don't expect you to answer immedi-"

"I'd be honoured, Lord Varios." Max blurted out, unable to stop himself from interrupting. He felt the hint of a sheepish expression cross his face before forcing calm upon himself, straightening up. Varios looked surprised for a brief moment at the abrupt response, and then smiled warmly.

"I'm glad to hear it," he responded. "Nova will see to it that your accommodation is ready by sunset. In the meantime, feel free to familiarise yourself with the town. You will be supplied with garments befitting your new position shortly, and we will begin your training in three days."

With that, Varios gave Max a short nod, and turned to leave the throne room. Max found himself unable to move, slightly stunned by the course of events over the past few minutes.

"Well, that was unexpected," Lowe summarised. Max chuckled in response.

"You can say that again."

"How did you do that? I've never seen anyone match Varios' blows that quickly, much less someone of your… situation." Lowe hesitated on his choice of final word, not wanting to offend the newcomer.

Max thought for a moment, trying to formulate a response before settling for a shrug. "I'm not sure myself. I just, kind of… did it. I didn't even think, it just happened. Instinct, I guess."

Lowe shook his head in wonderment. "Takes some sharp instincts to react like that with no memory."

Max smiled for a moment, but his face fell when his mind cast itself back to the previous night. The mysterious voice intruding on his thoughts… it seemed too disconnected from himself to be something he'd imagined. But what was it? He wasn't aware of anything with the power to do that. And what of the strange burn on his arm? He had even less idea what to make of that. The healers of the church had mentioned that they had never seen anything like it.

"Are you okay?" Lowe inquired, unsure how much he wanted to ask of Max's sudden drop in mood. Max shook his head wearily.

"I think so… I'm just a little confused, I guess. I don't know who I am, and yet I've found myself somewhere that has accepted me with barely a question."

Lowe smiled. "Well, as of now, you are Max of Guardiana, squire to Lord Varios, Commander of the Knights of Guardiana." He placed a hand on Max's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance, which he seemed to accept. "And anyone new to town needs to know how to get around."

He turned to face Max head-on, gesturing towards the entrance to the throne room.

"Would you like me to show you around?"

Max looked towards the door, then back to Lowe, and smiled.

"I'd like that."

A/N - Surprise! I kind of wanted to get back into writing so thought I'd come back and revisit what I'd already made of this and my Mass Effect fic. To my unending shock, I was actually pretty happy with what I've got on this so far when I reread it, so here it is. Expect updates to be sporadic at best, but I'm definitely going to try and put some good effort into both. Seems like a waste not to when I've already got them planned out!