Survivor

The woman, Amarta, struggled to sustain her balance as the room spun around her. The dimly lit chamber looked like a dungeon, with its semblance of privacy being the old, tattered cloth that concealed the makeshift bathroom. This once-elegant queen, now reduced to a mere shadow of herself, held her swollen belly in a protective gesture.

Amarta's connection with the life within her had deepened since the taboo ritual five months ago. She could feel the baby's movements, a bittersweet of her vulnerability. As she turned on the tap, the sound of running water cut through the eerie silence of the chamber, where most of the enslaved inhabitants had succumbed to slumber.

Her trembling hands reached out to brace herself against the rough, cold stone wall. Her disheveled hair, once the embodiment of her regal elegance, now clung to her face, damp with sweat. The trappings of luxury and grace that had once defined her had vanished in the harsh reality of her confinement.

As Amarta labored to maintain her composure, the water from the tap mixed with a strange, yellowish fluid, and a tired sigh escaped her lips. It was a stark reminder of her dire circumstances, trapped in this dismal place.

The entrance to the chamber creaked open, and in marched a group of knights clad in imposing suits of steel armor. The torchlight gleamed off their swords, and they bore the signature red cloth of Caeloria. Amarta, ever resilient, emerged from the bathroom to meet them, her expression etched with concern.

The key to her cell jingled as one of the knights unlocked the door, and she couldn't help but appreciate their devotion. "Your Majesty, I have brought you proper clothing and a blanket," one of them offered, trying to maintain a facade of stoic professionalism despite the emotional turmoil in the room.

"Your Grace, we have brought you bread and fruits, please accept them," another knight, his voice trembling, presented a box filled with nourishment. They all shared the same sentiment: the queen's well-being was their utmost priority.

Amarta's gentle smile amid adversity was a testament to her strength. She approached Chika, the brown-haired woman among the knights, and affectionately caressed her face. "I'm fine, Chika, don't worry," she reassured, her voice filled with warmth and gratitude.

Chika, a resilient knight who had seen her queen through countless difficulties, couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She broke down in Amarta's embrace, her emotions raw and unrestrained. "Forgive us, Your Highness, we couldn't save you from here."

Amarta, her spirit undiminished, offered solace to her loyal knights, a smile on her lips. "I know you've all performed your duties exceptionally well," she said, her voice steady. "We don't have many options, do we?"

She then turned to the knights in the room, all of whom stood with lowered heads, and inquired, "Is there any news you wish to communicate?"

One of them, a knight with short black hair, spoke up, "Yes, Your Highness, but it's bad news."

Amarta narrowed her eyes and her expression turned serious. "Whatever it is, tell me."

The chamber was filled with a heavy silence, accentuated by the dim torchlight flickering on the stone walls. The knights, their armor clinking softly as they shifted uneasily, were acutely aware of the situation.

Reynald, his voice tinged with regret, couldn't help but feel the weight of the world on his shoulders as he spoke. "Herich has indeed broken the boundaries of diplomacy, Your Highness. It's difficult to avoid the direction of war right now."

Amarta's eyes darkened with concern, reflecting the mounting tension on her. "If war is inevitable, then we must prepare ourselves."

The knight nodded, his resolve unwavering, as he proceeded with the grim news. "Brendant's troops, Your Grandeur... they were found in a dire state."

Amarta's heart seemed to skip a beat at this revelation, and she clutched her chest, gasping for breath. The weight of responsibility bore down upon her, and her voice quavered as she inquired about their condition. "Are they safe?"

Reynald's expression mirrored his queen's turmoil. "Hensen and Lithia, brave knights of Caeloria, have fallen in the line of battle. As for the commander, we haven't found him."

Amarta's legs wobbled beneath her, and her vision blurred with tears. The room seemed to spin as if the very world had shifted beneath her feet. She stumbled forward, her body nearly giving in to the overwhelming emotions.

It was only Reynald's swift reflexes and steady arms that prevented her from collapsing. The room, now rich with sorrow and apprehension, watched in solemn silence as the queen clung to the last shreds of hope, her heart aching for Brendant and her fallen knight.

As the other knights exchanged anxious glances, each of them shared the burden of this moment, knowing the implications of the news they had brought. The Phantom Omega, the impenetrable and dangerous battalion, was proving to be a formidable opponent, and the consequences were dire.

Amarta's hold on Reynald's armored shoulder tightened as she tried to steady herself. Her emotions ran deep, and she needed every ounce of strength to bear this news. Her words resonated with the weight of the kingdom's future. "And Brendant... we must find him."

The knights were aware that Brendant held a key not only to the military strategies but also to the secrets that could shape the future of Caeloria because of what he brought with him. The haste of the situation was noticeable in the room.

Reynald spoke with unyielding resolve. "We are doing everything we can to locate commander, Your Highness. We won't rest until we find him."

Amarta nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of determination and concern. "Good. We cannot afford to lose him, and we cannot allow the Phantom Omega to disrupt the Caeloria's regiment any further. We must organize for whatever challenges lie ahead."

The knights, their loyalty and commitment to their queen, stood as a united front, inclined to face the uncertain future. The fate of Caeloria hung in the balance, and their resolve was their strongest weapon in the days to come.

***

Brendant's eyes, hard to open, revealed his black irises, as they were bathed in the sunlight that crept through the room's corners. The harmonious chorus of birds outside reached his ears, while the earthy scent of nature enveloped his senses.

His face bore the marks of recent trauma, with contusions and bandages marring his features. His once-white hair lay disheveled as he attempted to examine the unfamiliar room. The wooden walls featured odd decorations, including various leaves and foliage, their purpose an enigma to him.

As he made a bitter attempt to rise, a searing nightmare surged through his battered contour, causing Brendant to slump back onto the bed. Groaning and grimacing, his bandaged hands seemed extremely vulnerable, remnants of a fatal battle that had left him scarred.

Deep in contemplation, Brendant was interrupted by the appearance of a most unusual visitor. A cat leaped onto him, standing on its hind legs, clad in apparel from head to toe, with only its paws and feet left exposed. What was truly remarkable was that this cat walked on two legs, approaching Brendant with casual confidence.

"You're quite lucky, commander," the cat exclaimed, leaving Brendant's eyes wide with astonishment. It could speak in the human language! "We have a concoction that can heal your hands."

The cat manipulated a device affixed to its head, adjusting the round goggles perched on its face. With care, it began to unravel the bandage covering Brendant's right hand, using the innovative Industrial Revolution glasses to zoom in and examine his injuries more closely.

Brendant listened to the feline in astonishment. The cat, with its vibrant orange fur accented by black patterns, had an air of wisdom and a demeanor that hinted at hidden knowledge.

His curiosity got the better of him, and he finally spoke, "How do you know me? And what are you?"

The kitten adjusted its goggles upward, a touch of amusement in its eyes. "Ah, of course, a voracious human who once nearly destroyed Nisiar. You wouldn't know that in the remote corners, we exist," it said as it approached Brendant's face. "Is it an insult to not know the incredible military commander of Caeloria? It's a shame you've ended up like this."

Brendant was taken aback and allowed the cat to add. "And I'm quite surprised that you don't recognize species like mine. It seems your knowledge is not that incredible."

The feline turned to face Brendant, still walking on its two legs, and sat down cross-legged. "Most humans simply refer to us as Talking Felines. Well, they're not entirely wrong, but it's not entirely accurate either."

"We are Feilis; not only can we mimic human behaviors, but we have intelligence that surpasses your own," the cat declared.

Brendant fell silent for a moment, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the puzzle of how he had ended up in this mysterious place. "How did I come to be here?"

"We found you by the riverbank in an awful state," came the voice of another person who had suddenly entered the open room, carrying a tray and placing it on the nightstand beside Brendant's bed. "We were gathering ingredients for medicines, and that's when we stumbled upon you."

His distinct pointed ears marked him as a member of a species that differentiated him from humans, and he maintained an exceptionally handsome and youthful appearance. His blonde hair, kissed by the sunlight, added to his aura.

"Wait, are you one of the vanished species?" Brendant attempted to recall something. "You're Alvar, aren't you?"

The Alvar man nodded, his expression calm and composed. "Yes, you're correct. I am indeed Alvar. You seem to have a decent brain, Commander."

Brendant's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and realization. "I remember now... the tales spoke of the Alvar, a race of beings said to have disappeared from our world. But how is it that you're here?"

The Alvar, with an arcane smile, responded, "The tales don't always get everything right. As for how I came to be here, it's a story that spans centuries. You've been chosen for a special task, aren't you, Commander? And we're here to help you fulfill it."