Chapter 192: The Story of A Man (1/2)

The first thing that Arthur saw was a mountain range of extreme frost. He was looking through the eyes of someone and could see their breath leave a white trail behind it.

”I'm cold,” A voice spoke to him and his vision turned into a small body tucked beneath his heavy leather clothing. A small head and hand were shaking as they clung to his chest.

”We're not far, please endure a bit longer.” The voice that came out from him was shaking as well, weirdly, it was in a language foreign to him. But he 'remembered' the meaning of the words.

The frost drilled through their bones as the steps carried them across the mountain range. At the end of it, there was a small cottage that has taken refugee beside one steep cliff. The light coming from its windows worked like hope in their despair.

The man, who Arthur was seeing through his eyes, pulled on the door. When he found that it was locked, he started banging on it. When there was no response, the man mumbled something and moved his finger. The door was unlocked from the inside before he made his way through it.

The cottage seemed to be warmer than the outside, as the man's shaking lessened until it disappeared. He then unbuttoned his coat to reveal a frail boy that was about three years of age. With a blond head, the body's face was pale and his nose was red.

The gloved hands of the man carried him and placed him in front of the fire. As the boy seemed to relax, the man left the room and went deeper into the house. He opened the door to a bedroom and found someone tugged under the blankets on the bed.

”I've knocked, you should've opened if you were here. Every bit of mana is valuable.”

However, he received no response. Arthur saw the man paused as he turned to face the bed.

”Claire?” The man called out, but no response. He stormed toward the bed and pulled away from the blankets. Arthur saw that the person underneath was a woman of blonde hair, and her eyes were closed. She was dead.

The scene changed when the boy came into the room and called out for his mother. The last image was of the boy, standing by the door, as he looked with confusion.

Arthur's emotions were in turmoil, but he retained his sense of self. He watched as the scene changed into another place, one with a better climate. The icy mountains disappeared, replaced by a greenish village.

As the man walked through the buildings, Arthur saw the high walls surrounding the village he was in. Towering walls stood there, black as night as if to protect them from something humongous.

The man went into a bar filled with people of all kinds, small and tall, some not even resembling humans. Scaled, some with animal ears, and some even had tails.

To Arthur's amazement, everyone treated this indifferently. The man seemed to be tall, extremely so, and Arthur remembered the shape that the mimic took. He walked through as the others stole glances at him, scowling in his direction.

”What do you want, halfling?” The bartender sneered at him as he placed the cup on the counter.

”A commission. Don't try to rob me, as I will crack your skull open.” The gruff voice of the man who Arthur was seeing through his eyes answered.

”I ain't got anybody hiring you.”

”Give me a leftover, it'll do.”

”You'll be dead, halfling. Many died before you. I don't want a reputation of my pub to spread of sending adventurers to their death.”

”You want to test me, Iskavian?”

The bartender frowned heavily before taking out a paper from underneath the counter and throwing it in the man's direction. The man picked it up and started walking away.

Arthur heard the sound of something flying before he felt something hit his back. Every emotion was transmitted deeply by the memory fragment. A cup crashed into the man's back and the liquid inside spilled over.

The line of sight turned slowly toward the cup before rising to the man who had the eyes of a snake. Arthur could feel the rage in the man's heart.

”Piss off, traitor.” The snake-man sneered as he looked at the man grimly. The man didn't say anything despite his rage and started walking away. The bar laughed as he made his exit.

The man's steps carried him across the village. Rage, helplessness, and resolve mixed in his heart. When he reached a house, all those emotions disappeared when he saw a blonde boy sitting in the garden.

”What are you doing?” The man asked as he crouched beside the boy, who looked to be twelve years of age. The boy didn't answer and simply handed what he was holding. It was a metallic doll of a man. ”Is this me?” There was joy in his voice.

The boy nodded.

”I'll keep it with me. This will keep me company until I return.”