Remnants long forgotten

Perspective : Conrad Garnier

Elkdrack's face transformed with a mix of surprise and temporary memory lapse, as he sheepishly admitted,

"Ohh, I forgot there for a second. That's the reason I brought you here..."

His gaze drifted towards a chest in the corner, a chest that seemed to radiate a certain majestic aura, adorned in what appeared to be metal though time had left its marks—the rusted edges and the curious growth of moss. Elkdrack gestured towards the chest and said, his words brimming with anticipation,

"That chest over there contains your share of the treasure."

With a blend of excitement and remorse, he proceeded to explain the origins of the treasure, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and regret,

"When we first entered this place, the altar was buried amidst a mound of gleaming gold coins, alongside an array of mysterious artifacts."

He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his revelations sink in, before continuing,

"Everyone took their share, and yours... well, all that remains."

He accentuated his words, a touch of reassurance laced within,

"Yes, that huge chest filled with gold coins and artifacts... it is all yours."

Pressing on, he assured me further, a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes,

"And I swear, we divided the share fairly, ensuring that everyone received their equal portion."

Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I replied cautiously, a hint of skepticism in my tone,

"Yeah... you better have." .

It seemed that my expression upon receiving that wasn't to his satisfaction.

With a hint of frustration, Elkdrack said,

"Show some emotions... I know you like to keep it calm and cool."

There was a spark of excitement in his eyes as he followed up,

"But we hit a jackpot here."

He continued, almost incredulously,

"Do you even know how much that's worth? Think about the amount of stuff you could do, the amount of stuff you could buy."

In an attempt to ignite a response, he urged,

"Show some excitement mate. You are dampening my mood here."

As his enthusiasm waned, a tinge of self-consciousness crept into his voice,

"Now I feel stupid for being this enthralled."

Regina's retort dripped with bitterness and resentment,

"As you should feel...you are the only weirdo here who would be happy over some gold...when we have suffered so much casualties."

Her frustration intensified as she added,

"Read the damn room...you insensitive piece of shit."

Elkdrack replied, with a tone of skepticism and disbelief evident in his voice,

"So ...you don't need your part of the share?"

Regina's response was firm and resolute,

"I do."

Elkdrack's voice took on a sarcastic edge as he began to taunt,

"Then what in the horse's arse is your problem...a man is happy. Because he's got gold. That's all he ever wanted, to be rich."

He concluded, implying a request for understanding,

"Let him be happy, will ya?"

Regina retorted, her tone laced with frustration and sadness,

"There's nothing wrong in that ... but at least care for the people around you. People died, Elkdrack...we are mourning their passing. Not everyone is so gung-ho on gold like you are."

Elkdrack, noting a contradiction, probed further,

"You don't care for gold?"

Regina responded clearly, attempting to clarify her stance,

"No."

Elkdrack saw an opportunity and insinuated,

"Then give me your share."

Regina's response was a mix of indecision and contradiction,

"I mean yes...I mean no."

Elkdrack, slightly amused, said,

"You do care for Gold or you don't care for Gold. Which is it?"

Regina, acknowledging her conflicting feelings, replied,

"I care for Gold."

Elkdrack, insinuating a deeper meaning, left his statement hanging in the air,

"Then..."

Before Regina said, a sense of resignation and defeat already loomed over her,

"That's different."

Elkdrack, seeking clarification, asked,

"Different how?"

Elkdrack, in a slightly accusatory tone, asked,

"Is it different that I blatantly show my appreciation...".

"While you are too happy suppressing your excitement."

He continued, a hint of self-justification in his voice,

"Am I in the wrong here for being so transparent with my feelings?".

"While you are deceiving everyone, including yourself."

He continued, shifting to a more serious tone,

"Do we have to deny ourselves the pleasure of joy because a shmuck knows who died?".

"Because we are so busy getting over our fake feelings of disbelief, that we dismiss our genuine emotions."

"We will be nothing but shells then."

Regina, realizing the futility of the argument, acknowledged defeat,

"Okay... Okay... fine... you won."

"Calm down... darn... the argument got heated so quickly."

Before Regina said, there was a mix of surprise and impressed admiration in her tone,

"Well damn... I didn't think you had it in ya."

"Your compassion for gold is truly unrivaled."

Elkdrack, somewhat dismissive, responded,

"Yeah... next you mind that."

Regina, drawing a line, asserted firmly,

"There isn't going to be a next time."

Regina misinterpreted my intentions. She assumed that I wasn't excited or happy because I was trying to show consideration for the deceased.

However, It wasn't that at all.

I wasn't excited because I wasn't excited.

This was nothing new for me, being the Prince of Alkatash, from my birth I had been seeing chests filled with Gold and jewellery to a sickening extent, to a normal person it would be an extraordinary sight but for me it's nothing out of the ordinary. I don't feel anything,

except for a sense of self appreciation,

telling myself,

"Job well done".

The sight have been so etched into my memory that, it feels normal and somewhat nostalgic but not in a good way though.

It reminded me of the time we extorted money from our citizens, and I feel self loathing for not feeling awful about it.

It's a peculiar sensation, feeling remorseful for not feeling remorseful, and I didn't hated it, neither did I liked it.

I asked Regina, whether she took her share,

"Did you took yours?".

She replied simply, acknowledging that she did,

"Yes."

That's when Yuna entered the scene, her appearance disheveled, her clothes falling off her shoulder due to her drunken state, and struggling to maintain her balance.

With a slightly sarcastic tone, she commented on Elkdrack's outburst,

"Well done... I agree with you."

Then, with defiant disregard, she expressed her lack of concern,

"Fuck em all... I say."

"Who gives a shit... that he died?".

But then, Yuna shifted her focus back to herself, emphasizing her own existence,

"But fucking... I am alive."

"And as long as I am alive, I will drink to my heart's glory."

Then Yuna turned to me, her tone containing a sense of entitlement, almost demanding,

"Hey Conrad! you better treat me to a dinner when we are back home."

I politely asked her, subtly referring a question ,

"Did you get yours?"

She replied, confirming that she did receive what was expected,

"Yes, I did."

Then Regina spoke up, finally voicing the thoughts in my mind,

"Then use your own damn money."

Yuna responded, a hint of a subtle plea in her words,

"A young lady going to a fancy restaurant all by herself..."

"Is sad."

Regina swiftly retorted, rejecting Yuna's attempt at manipulation,

"Don't kid yourself."

"You are far from young."

Yuna, taken aback, challenged Regina's comment,

"What did you say?"

Regina responded, a touch of frustration in her voice,

"Didn't you hear?"

Yuna replied, feigning ignorance or attempting to redirect the conversation,

"Mind repeating yourself?"

Regina replied, a hint of sarcasm lacing her tone,

"What do you think I am?"

"A deaf consultant?"

Yuna, now flustered and slightly cornered, struggled to find words,

"You..."

Regina continued, not letting Yuna's deflection go unnoticed,

"It's not my problem you have hearing problems."

Then Regina turned to me and suggested,

"Conrad! let's leave her alone."

Understanding the situation, we started walking away from Yuna.

However, Yuna called after us, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and desperation,

"You Wait!"

Then she twirled around, her dizziness evident,

"Woah! everything's spinning."

Regina, lacking empathy, mocked Yuna's condition,

"Can't even stand, you old hag."

Yuna, now angered by Regina's taunts, retaliated,

"Come here, you Twat!"

Unfazed, we left the room and made our way towards Emilia and the others. As we walked, I couldn't help but notice Brandon leaning against the doorway, his gaze fixed strangely on me. Confused by Brandon's stare, I couldn't help but question myself,

"Why is he staring at me?".

Then, as I entered the room, my eyes fell upon Emilia, Ikbal, Sheela, and Kyle engaged in a heated debate.

They stood before a Muriel, an ancient painting adorned with enigmatic writings. To my initial glance, those writings appeared as mere chicken scratches, their meaning elusive and obscure.

Intriguingly, those writings potentially held the truth about this forest. Yet, a question lingered in my mind - who would decipher them?

The answer seemed shrouded in time and antiquity, as if entrusted to someone ancient, to someone like Yuna, the legendary ice witch who had been alive for centuries, as they say.

Although it was not my place to intervene, and yet curiosity compelled me to seek understanding behind the mysterious events and phenomena we encountered in this forest.

There had to be an explanation, Yet, my hopes of Yuna providing answers were dashed, as she was quite hammered and unlikely to be of assistance any time soon.

Attempting to feign comprehension, Ikbal remarked with an air of facade,

"Ohh... now I get it."

However, Sheela saw through the act and promptly retorted,

"Don't act like you understand."

Ikbal, acknowledging his misstep, replied with a tinge of contrition,

"My bad."

Drawing attention to the Muriel with a pointed finger, Emilia delved further into the enigma, stating,

"This creature here... they point towards this small thing."

Intrigued by her revelation, Kyle directed our gaze to a specific spot within the painting and proposed,

"Look beside it... Is that a small child?".

Intrigued by Kyle's observation, my attention became firmly fixated on the Muriel as I examined it with a discerning eye, driven by a sense of fascination for its antiquity and potential hidden secrets.

The Muriel itself was detached from the wall, as if an expert hand had carefully removed it, preserving its intricate engravings without any damage. The sight of it filled me with awe and admiration, appreciating the artistry involved in its extraction. As I approached, I noticed the surface of the Muriel covered in a lush carpet of moss, hinting at the passage of time and nature's reclamation. The organic growth juxtaposed against the solid structure, lending an ethereal quality to the artwork. Ancient writings adorned the Muriel, each stroke telling a story that seemed to transcend time. It was as if the words whispered secrets, urging me to decipher their hidden meaning. Perhaps it was a message meant to be passed down through generations, or a symbolic narrative meant to provoke introspection. Contemplating further, I realized that such elaborate engravings and paintings on walls were part of a time-honored tradition. Across various faiths and aristocratic establishments, these intricate designs served a purpose beyond mere decoration. They sought to convey stories, warnings, and lessons to future generations, leaving an indelible mark on the collective consciousness. And astonishingly, this tradition still thrived in the present day, with contemporary artists and institutions continuing to embrace the power of visual storytelling in their creations.

As I ventured further into the details, an intriguing realization washed over me. The text, once illegible, occupied its rightful place both at the apex and nadir of the captivating Muriel. In the middle, etched horizontally, resided an array of captivating drawings and carvings. While the writings remained shrouded in an impenetrable veil, the artistic enigma nestled in the center seemed accessible to our senses.

And that was exactly what Emilia and others were trying to understand, for hours they were at it.

And now it had my attention too.

With unbridled curiosity coursing through my veins, I couldn't help but wonder about the underlying story or warnings it held within those ancient depictions. Did they hold the key to comprehending the inexplicable occurrences within this very forest? The weight of these questions burdened my thoughts, obscuring any semblance of clarity as I meticulously examined the timeworn engravings, as I couldn't take my eyes off them.