His eyes fluttered open, facing the ceiling he was all too familiar with.
Man, I wish my eyes had wipers like cars—wouldn't be blurry every time I wake up. Haaah
He released his eyes with a sigh.
Looking down at his feet, he saw his sleeping friends, Percival and the prince, with four empty chairs before the vanity mirror.
Damn… How long was I out…? Haaah.
He sighed, hand meeting his temple. F… Fabric? He felt around his head. The entire head, including… the forehead… He winced, though no pain was present. Bandaged and healed, no broken face. He let out a silent whistle.
Damn…
He lay back on the pillow with a bounce.
This. I… don't know if I can do this again. I really don't like this mask on my face either. I don't want it anymore. I want to reveal who I am but…
A sharp exhale escaped him as he sat up.
I need fresh air, this room feels suffocating. As for my friends and the prince… I don't feel like going through the jovial awakening routine. Not right now.
He slowly removed the covers and tiptoed to the door. He slipped out without the door so much as creaking.
* * *
"Haaah." He sighed, walking in the grand hallway of the castle. The pleasant aroma of blue roses—displayed in vases beneath portraits of former monarchs—filled the air.
How do I do this? How do I reveal who I am and…
He walked past the large throne room door. What will happen when I do—
"What is that you are—"
"AH!"
He yelped, turning around swiftly on his heel. The queen stood before the throne room door.
His index finger shot to his mouth. "Shhhhh…" His shushing died down, eyes widening from realization. "I-I mean…" He shot to kneeling, his head lowered. "Good morning, Y-Your Majesty."
Or is it nighttime?
His hand met his forehead. "Stupid me, being so casual with the queen like she's my aunt." He muttered it, still audible enough for her to hear.
The queen chuckled behind her palm. "Did I not decree that you need not burden yourself with such formality?"
SHE HEARD THAT!
"I mean… Yes, you did but…" He met her gaze. "Still not comfortable with the whole informality thing, I fear it will get over my head."
"Understood." A smile crossed her magenta-colored lips. "It is pleasing to see you in good health, even if you are somewhat flustered and prone to such excessive displays."
And I see you're enjoying my embarrassment.
"Yeah. Heheh. I, uh… could you tell the others I left… because I needed fresh air? I need some open space before… all the joviality." He requested, lowering his gaze.
"Do not trouble yourself, your message shall be conveyed by my servant."
Well… fuck! I just asked a queen to do my meager task. Lovely for my biography.
He bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll be in the courtyard—soaking up the sun and taking in the aromas."
With that, he left her side, then the castle.
"There it is again…" The queen looked at his form getting smaller in the distance. "…that unmistakable ache of longing."
* * *
He exited the castle—giving the two guards a courteous nod. Before him stretched the courtyard, lined with waist-high, square-cut hedges sprouting colorful flowers. A few meters ahead, a quartz fountain stood at the center, spewing clean, reflective water where birds drank their fill. Behind it, the dragon lay resting on its talons.
He looked up at the sky, shielding his eyes, the shadow of his hand falling across his face.
Wow, I woke up at noon. Well… there's the dragon.
He shook his head, hands on his hips. "It's crazy to be one of the few who commands a dragon. Lord, I'm honored."
He walked toward the giant creature, the heat of its body warming the air around him.
Nearing the dragon, he waved.
"HEY! MR. DRAGON!"
Its eyes opened, its massive head turning to face his tiny form. A booming voice resonated in his mind.
"I am relieved to see you well, master. It has been a month since you fell."
A what? A month?!
"Wow— I-I— Really?! Heh. I… didn't know…"
He turned and sat on the ground, resting his back against the side of its talon.
"I wanted to ask you something. Since you're an ancient creature—and look the part. What do you know about the wyverns?"
The dragon gazed up at the drifting clouds.
"The wyverns… They are my friend's kin. Their dwelling lies in one of the many caves of Sylvian Enclave."
He pinched his chin. "Huh. So the wyverns came from the island of the elves. That means whoever launched this 'invasion' could use that cave again. We should head there immediately—block it off, guard it with the elven royal guard! But… how? Haaah!"
He sighed, resting his head on the talon, looking up at the sky.
"With what, and whither, must we deal?"
Looking down, he saw his friends and Percival approaching—their faces painted with smiles and relief.
"You're all awake!" Oswald said, standing up.
He hugged them each in turn, patting their backs.
Korrin laughed, returning the pat. "Good to see you're still kickin', mate."
Zharrak nodded as Oswald hugged after. "Last I heard, ya were a corpse. Ya even wrapped like one."
"Heh. Nice to see you too."
Aelindor's lips were a thin line, his hug slightly tighter. "I am most heartily relieved to behold thee restored, for I could not have borne the weight upon my conscience, hadst thou departed this world after bestowing such great generosity upon me and mine own family."
"Forward that thanks to the maid. I'm here because of her." His gaze shifted between them. "Man, finding me must've been hell. If I recall, I fell in an alleyway."
"Correct. We located you after four hours of searching. It was… a harrowing sight."
Oswald scratched the back of his head, his fingers meeting bandages. "I can only imagine—and I'm grateful. For everything. And… everyone. Oh, uh, speaking of which." He gestured toward the dragon. "I discovered something from our chat. The source of the parasite is a cave in Sylvian Enclave."
All their eyes widened.
Zharrak stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ya not tryna go there and…"
Oswald nodded, confirming the thought.
"M-Mate, you've only just woken up! You've still got bandages on ya noggin! And you're keen to head off an' sort this out already? Shouldn't ya kick back?"
Oswald shook his head. "As much as I'd love to get comfortable in a guest bed or at Aelindor's inn… knowing the source of so much suffering would keep me up at night. The anxiety of inaction."
The violet-haired maid stepped out from behind Percival.
"When are you leaving?"
His body jolted—a jumpscare.
AH, JESUS! WHERE'D SHE COME FROM?
Though her face remained stoic, beneath the calm she fought the urge to squeeze him tight.
"I-I'd like to go with some of you. Specifically you, Aelindor—since it's your home island, you'll be a big help. A-As for the others, I'll leave that up to you. A-And as for when I'm leaving—"
GROWL!
His stomach gurgled loudly.
They all sighed. Silent chuckles sounded from the group—except from Ms. Maid, whose lips twitched upward in a smile for just a millisecond.
"Haaah. Well… that should answer your question."
Percival pointed toward the castle. "Come then. We shall leave after a feast."
Oswald nodded. "That would be lovely."
And so Oswald, his friends, and his companion all walked back to the castle for the feast—in celebration of his recovery, and the kingdom saved.
###
End of Act I
Fate In Motion
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