2 Chapter 1 - Arte Galvin

Few, if any, people had not heard the tales of Arte and his journey to fight back against the Vajra king and his grey legion. From what was originally the northern capital of Divinum, alongside the kingdom's military might, he rained down endless volleys of magical arrows, pushing the daemons back. Not stopping until they pushed into the mountain that they called home and killing the Vajra king himself – or so they say.

History always had a way of showing those in a light much brighter than was ever truly present. After all, people need someone to believe in, especially during times of strife. While not entirely false, one would not be wrong in thinking it to be, at least, truth adjacent.

Arte Galvin, originally a British citizen during world war II, supposedly died during a German air raid of the city of Canterbury. He was always a very patriotic boy, which gave him a certain level of focus after his transmigration to an unknown land. For years he had trained, perfecting his craft as he learned that he was especially exceptional with a bow. He had a strangely complex understanding of magic, more so than any brought before him to teach him. Arte soaked up any knowledge that they could offer like a sponge, never needing to see it done more than once. A true genius.

But, as many a genius, he had a hard time understanding the world around him. This led to him choosing to focus only on his objective – to get stronger, and to kill the Vajra king. Afterall, he was hailed as a hero, so he chose to do what a hero should.

Not quite mature enough to understand that the world rarely, if ever, worked solely in black and white. The realization that Gods existed in the literal sense, and offered their blessings to those that they favored, he further tunneled his vision. Their existence served only to deepen his belief in the good of man and the evil of daemons that fought against him. He sincerely believed those as facts, right up until his last moments.

History painted his life in a fairly accurate light, in the general sense, but left the many facets and reasons for his choices veiled in the shadows of time.

What is fantasy? That was something that Diane had asked herself once, coming to the simple answer of, 'fantasy is nothing more than fantastical lies that we tell ourselves to better grasp at life.' She felt it served no more purpose than crutches did for someone with an injured leg – useless once the injury was healed.

She had lived a fairly normal, albeit busy, life. Caring more for studies and work than personal connections, it would seem that she had missed out on the opportunity of a married life. Not that she felt like she particularly needed, or wanted, it for that matter. Rather, she gained the joyous chance of hearing about said missed opportunities. Which, as one might expect, annoyed her to no end.

Her work today, as with most days, ended with a deep and exaggerated sigh. Intended more for herself than for anyone else to hear. Today was her forty-third birthday, but it was no more than another day in the office for her. Not particularly close with anyone in her family, the few friends that she had all lived back in her hometown. Never having tried to make any friends where she was now, she began her journey home, stopping at the bus stop just outside of her office.

A sudden bout of nausea came over her, as her vision started to warp. "Bloody hell, I haven't started drinking yet?" Confused, she put one hand over her eyes while the other firmly gripped the bus stop sign to help hold her up. Or, rather, that was what she intended anyway. What originally felt like cold hard metal seemed to flow like water between her fingers before she felt a falling sensation. Only, she never hit the ground. Feeling, instead, a never-ending feeling of falling.

Throwing her arms out as she spun around in a vain attempt to cushion her fall, Diane gave out a sudden surprised shout. But, instead of hitting the ground, she found herself sitting upright. Arms extended out, parallel to the ground below her. Confused as to what had just transpired, she let her arms fall to her side as she glanced around. Everything was so dark, but she was able to see the outlines of objects around her for some reason. They appeared as unnaturally glowing outlines against the pitch-black scene, but not actually shedding any light.

"The fuck is…" Her eyes opened wide at the sound of her voice. Because it was not her voice. Testing a few more words, primarily expletives, she was only weirded out more and more. Every word she intended to say was said. She reached up to her throat, while she was blasting off random curse words, and almost jumped out of her own skin when she felt a small, barely formed, Adam's apple.

She let out another shout upon her new discovery, and accidently rolled off whatever she was lying on. Now rubbing her sore shoulder, that was unintentionally used to cushion her fall, she let out a groan as she rolled over onto her back, and gently rubbed where it was hurting.

"Seriously, what the hell is going on right now?" She questioned the situation out loud – a habit of Diane's that she picked up from years of living alone. Being able to see – well, kind of – she stood back up and looked around. It was difficult to determine depth with the way everything looked. The outlines of objects looking similar regardless of distance, giving everything a 2D appearance, requiring her to feel around as she moved.

Not knowing where she was, or where she should go, Diane just picked a direction and started walking. With only two directions to choose from, she had at least a fifty-fifty shot of going the correct direction, right?

After what had to be a few hours of walking – thankfully, the pathway never split, rather just turning from time to time. Seemingly snaking its way out… or in… - She finally noticed a bit of flickering light in the distance. Not really having any other choice, she headed in that direction.

With the help of the little bit of light that she could now see, she was able to walk normally again. Her depth perception seemed to be back to normal now. But, strangely enough, the light seemed to be getting brighter the closer that she got to it. Not that the source of light was getting brighter, as it was still around a corner further up ahead, but that the source of light was moving closer to the corner as well.

Not quite sure how she should react, as she still had no real grasp of her current situation, she decided to just keep it moving. Maybe whoever it was that was moving the light source could help get her out of wherever here was. It was not until then that she thought to get a better look at her surroundings, as it was not until now that she could clearly see them.

"What the fuck, that's a skeleton!" She, quite literally, leapt towards the other side of the hallway, her hand landing on something smooth that seemed to roll just slightly as she put her weight onto it. Looking down at whatever it was that she was grabbing now… she fainted as she picked up a clean, slightly yellowed from age, upper arm bone.

--

Diane woke up as she heard someone shuffling around. Her vision still a little fuzzy, she looked up to see a blank white ceiling. "Ah, I'm in a hospital. That must have been the morgue… then…" As her memory came back to her, she sat up and looked around, only to stop and stare incredulously at the man who had started to walk out of the room.

Rather, that was what she originally thought she was seeing. Only it was not just a guy, and it was not a door. "Your excellency, you're awake?" A voice called out to her from behind, but she could not hear them over the sudden revelation that was taking place in the mirror before her.

It was not until this moment that she learned that not only did she sound like a pre-pubescent boy, but that she still looked like one too. Only now, it was in the literal extent. It was the small victories that mattered in life, right?

She was then overcome with a nervous bout of laughter as her eyes seemed to glaze over. Figuring that everything must have been an elaborate dream she pinched her cheek only for it to actually hurt, which was then followed up with an exasperated sigh.

The guy behind her, who spoke up before, stared in confusion.

Unbeknownst to Diane, this was the very person to have carried her after having found her collapsed in the royal crypt below the temple that he overseen. Word had already reached the citadel about her arrival, which threw everyone into a state on confusion. The revival of the kingdoms greatest hero was, of course, cause for celebration. But, how did he come back alive? Resurrection magic was a thing of fairy tales – while it was often confused with resuscitation magic, which when viewed by the uneducated looked as if it brought the dead back to life.

"Um, your excellency, is something wrong?" Not entirely sure how to broach the current situation, the head priest simply tried to break the strange atmosphere by getting Arte's attention. Before the priest had a chance to ease Diane's current worries though, they both could not help but to turn to look at the open doorway. Rather abruptly, a figure dressed in electric blue robes rapped his wooden staff heavily against the floor. The sound that it made sounded much louder than one would have expected – exaggeratedly loud even, it sounded like when someone artificially raised the volume, giving it a washed-out effect.

Cold eyes stared at Diane, running a chill down her back. While she expected for the rude individual to enter the room as well, they instead stepped to the side, allowing the most obnoxiously dressed individual that she had ever seen in her life to gallantly stride into the room. The self-importance that he felt seemed to literally radiate from him, making her fight back an urge to gag – choosing rather to just stare at him in undisguised disgust.

Stopping to look her – or him rather. Her sense of self was strongly shaken by the events, unsure how she should even begin to start processing – he wore a self satisfied smile before finally making eye contact, broke what she assumed to be his character, and bowed deeply, sweeping his left arm out in a grand gesture. "You grace us with your countenance lord Arte. It is a joyous occasion that the gods have granted us this day."

Now that she looked at him more closely, his smile appeared to be genuine. Another of her bad habits had kicked without her realizing it. Her lack of a social life was not all in part because of herself. While she understood that betrayal was something that happened to everyone, overtime she simply lost touch with people as she could not help but to see the worst in them, blatantly ignoring or not even registering their good points. "People only exist to take advantage of others!" was a common quote of Diane's. But rather than holing herself up in her head, she chose the thorny path of simply not giving a damn.

Her lack of wanting to give anyone face had led to, what others charitably refer to as, her vulgar tongue. It wasn't that she cussed overly often, which she did, but that she never sugar coated anything. Not mentally grasping the point of white lies, she never used them. Ever.

"Sup?" was all that she could think to reply with. A rather inelegant choice of words, considering the strange situation, but it was all that came to mind. While thinking of what to say, she simply went blank.

'What the hell am I suppose to say!' She mentally shouted, while she pictured the worlds largest sweat drop imaginable.

Clearing his throat before he continued, the showy man before her stood up straight. "You look to be rather confused at the moment, which is rather understandable given the current circumstances." He seemed to be a rather long-winded fellow, but actually seemed to mean well. While not in touch with people as most, she was somehow able to tell that he was being genuine. A strange revelation in truth, as the priest behind her kept a stoic front, seemingly not fully trusting the man.

"Ah, do forgive me. My name is Dominic Leathcheann –"cutting him off before he could continue, she performed an unintended spit-take at his name. His last name was Gaelic. Well, it was Gaelic in a sense. Rather than having an Irish name, it was an Irish word. Leathcheann simply meant idiot where she came from. Not being able to hold back at the sudden name drop, she did manage to realize the situation that she was in – as she laughed at his unfortunate name.

"I'm –" still not altogether comfortable with her current voice, she cut herself before she continued. "Sorry about that. I'm just really nervous right now."

'Wait, how can I even understand these people?'

Not entirely sure as to how she noticed, Diane realized that none of their mouths moved in sync with their words – appearing like an old terribly dubbed Chinese flick.

"That much is to be expected, of course." Walking over to grab a chair, he moved it before Arte and sat down. "It is not every day that someone comes back from the dead."

Jaw and eyes wide open at Dominic's sudden declaration, she simply stared in complete confusion. What did he just say? Back from the dead? "What the fuck is this guy talking about?" Realizing all to late that she had said that out loud, she clamped her mouth shut as she stared now for a different reason.

'Good job Diane. Reeeeeeaaaaaal smooth…'