Middle Of Nowhere

The first thing he heard were grasshoppers, chirping in the night. It was cool and dark in the forest around him. But as Jon Everheart became more conscious, and remembered more of what happened, it soon wasn't cool enough. A fury rose in his chest, a burning rage that nothing could soothe! He was so hurt at the loss of life, the massacre his beloved King had made!

Screaming and thrashing into the trees, he was greatly disturbed. Everything he had known was false. The loving King, the government and rule he believed in and had dedicated his life to. All of these things were just lies! He felt so stupid, and had given so much to an unworthy cause!

Jon Everheart was a kind man. He wasn't an emotional man either. He was calm and measured in all his actions, because he always looked towards his greater purpose. But now, with his purpose gone, he was not calm. For the first time in his life, he was consumed by hate. His mind raced with thoughts of violence and retribution toward the King and the Royal Family.

As he kicked and screamed like a mad dog, at bushes, trees, rocks, anything around him, he finally broke through the forest into a clearing, and clearly saw the moon. Exhausted by his outburst, he sat leaning against a tree, and stared at the moon.

Jon could tell he wasn't as strong as he used to be. Even as an old man, he had barely made a dent into the trees he had kicked and punched. He didn't even have any sort of stamina any more. He looked at the skin on his arms, and felt the smoothness of his face, and he knew he was young again. He wasn't sure how old his body was now, but thoughts of the surly princes came to mind. Now that he knew it was possible to become young again, it was abundantly obvious those princes had been old farts from the beginning. They had told him the princes were 15 years old, just old enough to be considered a man by some, but a boy to him. He supposed he was that age too, though he would have to verify that later.

He had noticed other changes to his body too, things he had forgotten were the advantages of youth. His pain was more temporary, and his senses were better. Not as good as his peak, but better than he just was. And his mind came up with ideas faster. Maybe even too fast. He'd have to watch out for that, to regain the discipline and measured behaviour that had brought him his success. And he had long, silver-grey hair now. It wasn't shiny, but it still had a metallic lustre. Jon had never kept long hair in his life. Nobles kept long hair, as a symbol of status, but he had refused to continue that tradition, even when he had become a lord. It was impractical, and he never wanted to forget his commoner roots.

As Jon stared at the moon, he realized it was in a different phase. It might have been a couple weeks since he was awake. It was with this passing thought that he fell asleep again. His rest was fleeting though, as he was haunted by the sounds of screaming children in his dreams...

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Jon woke up again. This time less angry, but still holding vengeful thoughts. He began to fantasize about destroying the Ryka Kingdom. As the sun rose, he too got up. The first thing to do was figure out where the heck he was.

He looked around, and started walking to the highest point of elevation he could see. His plan was to try and find the lay of the land, maybe see if there was a river he could follow. However, he soon saw a plume of smoke off in the distance. Partially backtracking, he headed straight at the smoke. Some time later, he found a satchel on the ground, in the open. It was extremely obvious, and clearly someone had placed it there for him. "Suspicious." he thought. He knew the Kin- … Horus. The bastard. He knew Horus wasn't done with him yet… Inside the bag he saw some money, a change of clothes, and a waterskin. He picked up the satchel, pondering its various implications.

A few hours later, Jon came upon a walled settlement. It had a poorly made sign that gave a name to the village: Four Leaf Village. As he walked around to find the entrance, he noticed the shoddy construction of the walls. He could tell it wasn't made by professionals, as the base of the wall wasn't dug deeply enough into the ground. A heavy ram would be able to push it down in a matter of minutes, if it didn't get smashed apart first. The wood was plain, and untreated. Likely rotting in the rain over a period of years. Someone would have to rebuild it every so often, and it should definitely be sooner than later.

As he came upon the entrance, he found it unguarded. Considering the size of the settlement, he figured the walls were just there to defend against light monster or beast attacks. So it wasn't too strange it was left unattended during the day, he supposed.

As Jon walked into the town, he saw a child point at him saying something, then running away. It was slightly disconcerting. Someone came out of an alley and gasped aloud.

"The prophecy is true!" A woman said, pointing at him too.

"Prophecy? Ma'am, what are you talking about?" Jon asked. He had been on alert since he had picked up the satchel, and he felt this new development meant nothing good for him.

The woman, shocked at his appearance, didn't respond to his question immediately. Taking a moment, she approached him.

"Are you truly the prophesied king?" She asked.

"No! Definitely not! I'll not be a King for anything!" Jon reflexively responded.

"Oh…" Her wonder clearly dimmed at his response. "Well, in any case, the village chief better see you. I don't know what's going on, but he's a good man to sort it all out. Can you come with me?"

Jon felt a little hope at her words. He had wanted to talk to someone knowledgeable to figure out his situation, and this village chief seemed like just the right character.

He followed this strange woman, who didn't seem to say any unnecessary words. They walked in silence, though Jon was slightly distracted by the child following them. It turned out it was the woman's young daughter, and she gaped at Jon the entire way. It wasn't just the child though. As they walked through the village, more folk came out to look at Jon, and follow them to the centre of the village. They kept their distance, whispering amongst themselves, leaving Jon with an uneasy feeling.

Jon was led to a respectably sized tavern named "The Lucky Horn". It was a couple of floors, and looked like it could hold around 50 people on the first floor. It was a little big for a village of this size, but if this was also used as a town hall, it was understandable.

An old man wearing a simple tunic came out of the tavern. Judging from the reactions of the people around him, this was the village chief, but he wasn't adorned in any obvious shows of wealth in the slightest. Either this place was the poorest place Jon had ever seen, or the chief was a very humble man. It could be both as well, Jon supposed.

"Hello. I am Davius Prentice, the chief of this place. Really it just means people bother me with their problems all the time. I'm also the owner of this tavern, and the Inn beside it. Please, come inside." Davius was polite and maintained a welcoming, pleasant tone. Though a lot of things recently had happened that set Jon on edge, this man gave him a very good impression.

"Thank you. I have many questions, and I'd be grateful if you could help answer a few."

They entered the tavern, and the village chief chose a table right in the centre. It soon became apparent why, as the rest of the villagers piled in after them, surrounding them on all sides.

"Hey, hey! Settle down, you lot. You shouldn't even be here, don't you have better things to do?" The village chief shouted, as the noise in the tavern rose higher.

"OF COURSE WE DON"T!" someone yelled back from the crowd, drawing a laugh from everyone.

"All right, quiet down. So, what should I call you, stranger?" Davius said warmly.

This village seemed good-natured, but he was still unsure of the situation. He decided to keep it simple.

"You can call me Jon." Looking around at the crowd surrounding him, he realized he should probably deal with this part sooner or later. "What is this prophecy about me? And how did you learn of it? It seems to be causing quite the commotion."

"Ahhh, yes. The prophecy. Well, I'm not sure about it myself. A couple of months ago, we were told by a travelling Seer that a man with silver hair and purple eyes would come to our village, and it would be from here that he would start a glorious kingdom. That all our lives would get better with his presence.

Initially, I didn't believe it myself… But a hedge mage came along, looking to verify this prophecy himself. He did some sort of ritual, and then claimed this place was gathering a great destiny. He left in a rush, saying he'd return someday.

There was a lot of chatter after that… And then about a week ago, a priest came to town. Proclaiming his god had directed him to announce your coming. Wouldn't say which god was his, secretive bunch those priests are. But he did do some healing while he was in town, so we know he definitely had some sort of holy patron.

We've been all holding our breath since. There were a lot of promises from those strangers, and I can only the village folk's imagination has magnified that. Honestly, I'm a little overwhelmed that you're actually here." The village chief leaned back as he finished his explanation, looking intently at Jon to gauge his reaction. Outwardly, he was calm, but he was on the edge of his seat while waiting for a response.

"Ahh… A couple of months ago you say? What day is it today?"

"Oh. Umm… It's the twenty-third day of High Summer." The village chief responded, a little taken aback by the odd question.

Jon was surprised by the answer too. It had been the twelfth day of Spring's Ceasing when he attended the funeral. More than two months had passed…

"Where is this place? Are we near the Ryka Kingdom at all?"

"The Ryka Kingdom? I've never heard of such a place. Honestly, we're so remote, the only civilization we know of is the Tulin Empire. We're sandwiched between the Searing Mountains and them. I can't really tell you any more, since I don't really know much of this world."

The Tulin Empire bordered the Ryka Kingdom. Nominally, they had peaceful relations and traded quite extensively, but the Empire had never really shown any particular affection or liking for the Rykan peoples. Jon had always thought they were just ignoring Ryka while they conquered easier targets, and eventually…

The Searing Mountains were a far off mountain range on the opposite side of the Tulin Empire, from the Ryka Kingdom's perspective. It was a famous source of fire magic materials, but the Tulin empire seemed to have a monopoly on it. From the Golden Sands Desert in the south, it curved east before curving back northwest to end in the Polar seas. An entire region of mountain was called the Misty Spears, as the icy cold seawater and the hot stone mountains contacted, fogging up the place for miles and miles.

Nothing was known of the places beyond, since they were all definitely impassable. To be at the easternmost edge of the Tulin Empire was mind boggling. If he were to travel by horse, it would still likely take him an entire year to reach the Ryka Kingdom! How did he get here?

Jon was quiet for a while, and whispering around him began to stir up.

"Stop your naysaying! Of course he's going to be our King! Can't you just feel his majesty? Great things are going to happen here, and we'll be blessed to see it!"

A barmaid serving drinks spoke loudly, to quiet the crowd again. The village chief coughed, slightly embarassed.

"That's… uh… Sarabella. She works here in the tavern for me, and in the inn." Davius meekly said, introducing her politely.

Suddenly, loud stomping from heavy hoofs sounded from outside the tavern. Loud hooting and whistling could be heard, and brought a look of dread to all the village folk. Davius got up to leave, and Jon followed.

Outside were twenty men, a few of them on horses. They were armed to the teeth, and none of them had a friendly look about them.

"Well well! If it isn't the prophesied King! What an honour! Why, you're such a pretty little thing, I should just hand over my lands to you right away!" Said one of the mounted men. His henchman laughed at his joke uproariously.

"That's Dagger Reek. He's something of a local warlord in these parts. He comes around demanding food and drink, and then leaves as he pleases." Davius whispered into Jon's ear.

"Sir Reek, we wer-"

"Shut up, Davius. I wasn't talking to you. You'll answer me only when I want you to, or I'll burn down your nice tavern." Dagger Reek gave Davius a hard, threatening look.

Jon knew a bully when he saw one. He stepped forward, standing tall and looking unafraid.

"I wasn't making any plans just yet. I'm not looking for any trouble." Jon said clearly. There was no nervousness in his voice, no tremor. He looked like a young boy, so his confidence here was eerie.

Dagger Reek looked at Jon, sizing him up. "Well, just because you're not looking for trouble doesn't mean you aren't trouble. There's a prophecy going around, and it's annoying to me that people believe it. But there's an easy way to fix that… Get 'im."

Dagger Reek motioned his men forward. He was planning to cut on that pretty little face and make the boy beg before he killed him. That he wasn't cowering now was already too much insult.

Jon smirked, as he saw the footmen move toward him. He could tell they were all amateurs. If Jon was at his best, he would have been able to knock these ruffians on their asses with his eyes closed. But he wasn't at his best, so it wasn't wise to take risks. The best way to fight here was to kill when he could. It was cruel, but after what he'd been through recently, he wasn't feeling merciful in the slightest.