Stomp!
Stomp! Stomp!
Oh f*ck! Who were they again? Think… Think!
Countless fragmented and disconnected memories of the original body's owner came over Thomas, of his parents, of his siblings, of his noble birth, of Angelica, and of his status in the castle as a bit of a "bum"
Most importantly though, he recalled that the soldiers storming towards him right now were of the Rose Barony, they wouldn't lay a finger on him, moreso, that they couldn't. Desmond's father was the most powerful man in this territory. Baron Rose.
It'd still be odd for me to be not to gain suspicion next to the carcass of a person I'd just fallen down with. Maybe if I just…
Thomas began rolling around in Angelica's blood and mud, covering himself in the disgusting fluids and bile of another person, the putrid scent of all these combined with his own bloody clothes overlapped to make a foul odour incomprehensible to the human nose. He sat there hoping that the soldiers would arrive soon and take him away.
If I just play dead, I could eventually play it off as an act of God's Grace. If they even have gods here.
Slowly, the thundering footsteps began to increase in volume, the sheer density had sent thunderous vibrations through the ground which Thomas was laying on.
"Thank her Lady Mary! The young lord is still breathing!" A solitary soldier yelled, most of the noise smothered by the rain and his heavy helmet, yet still being able to call upon his fellow soldiers, which had split up to come over to observe the child of their lord bloody, yet still breathing. Unbruised and without any gashes, tears or ruptures on his body.
The soldier took off his heavy helmet and breastplate, placing it over Thomas, to shield him from the rain. This revealed long dark, black hair, with a face befitting that of a soldier, a thick goatee was growing around his mouth, with a heavy scar across his face, evident of how many battle the man had weathered.
"Quick! Carry him back to the castle for an inspection with the physician!" Calling for another soldier, who had come out from the crowd to place Thomas on his back and sprinted back to where they came in from through the thicket.
Thomas slowly opened a slit in his eyes, a narrow enough gap that nobody would notice with his head down.
Peering back at the soldier which had found him, and given him his armour, Thomas used his appraisal ability and discerned whether the power could be used on living people.
[Reinholdt Orlo]
Thanks, Reinholdt…
Looking back at Reinholdt, Thomas saw that the group of leftover soldiers hadn't followed behind the soldier carrying him back through the forest. Instead they were focused on the body or much rather, the carcass that had been left over at the site, stroking their helmets where their beard would be. Eventually all the men came to a consensus and begun digging a hole with their shields.
His consciousness slowly faded away, into a deep, deep sleep, the intense, strenuous shock that came from his sudden 'Death' and 'Revival' had taken a toll on his mind.
…
Thomas' eyes slowly creaked open, with his nose breathing in the floral scents of flowers usually found in a meadow, but still feeling all too weak.
He was on a lavish bed, comfortable, even comparable to the standards of basic modern-level mattresses. The only source of light, besides the candles lit to illuminate the dark corners of the room was the large bay window, letting a wide opening of light to creep through, letting little microscopic fairies of dust to dance in it's shimmer.
Surrounding him were four walls of thick cobblestone brick layered on top of another, and the ground was encased in a layer of well maintained planks that each had a sheen to them. Intricate tapestries with distinct patterns littered the floor as a carpet, creating a sight which seemed to create the atmosphere of a medieval bedroom.
Though the darting around of his pupils beneath his barely squeaked open eyes were faint, they didn't go unnoticed by an attentive servant.
"Madam!"
There was lady sleeping upright on a wooden chair parallel to Thomas.
The woman had thick, long, blonde hair, and a frame that looked copiously thin, though not like a skeletons, with deep blue eyes that looked as pure as the ocean. She was dressed in a corset, wrapped around her waist in a deadlock with thick, vibrant colours fully coating her whole attire.
Her eyes quickly popped open from the abrupt noise of the servant calling at her, jolting up from her chair and slightly stumbling to regain her balance. He quickly used his discernment ability to gain an edge in the encounter revealed her name
[Beatrice Orlo]
Not Rose?
Why would this lady who was obviously my… no, Desmond's mother be called by another name? Maybe she was estranged or divorced. Strange.
"Oh, thank the Lady Mary your alive!"
"We'd thought you'd become a vegetable!"
"I mean, I'm fine with taking care of you for the rest of my life but… what happens after I die?"
Beatrice shuddered at the thought of having to leave her son alone to fend for himself in the world, and at that momentary thought, she began to sob inconsolably. The solitary servant went and handed her a handkerchief to wipe her ever-flowing tears with.
Thomas unconsciously winced at the fact that the person who she thought to be him was already long dead. The son she'd cared so much for was already long gone.
This is an opportunity though. He pondered, over what he could probe out of her without garnering suspicion. Eventually, Thomas came to the conclusion that he could feign amnesia from the great fall, after all, this Lady Mary they mentioned was some great figure that saved him.
The memories the original Desmond had left him with had only given him with more questions after all, since they were only mere fragments from the 'real Desmond'.
They must be few and far between since his actual brain was shattered into a fine paste…
"M…"
His voice croaked, the strain of reconnecting each strand of every muscle in his body must have been greater than he'd believed. Thomas figured he was basically running on a concoction of adrenaline and fumes back when he woke up.
"Yes darling? Don't force yourself, I'll be here for the rest of today to watch over you."
Exercising the full extent of his vocal range, Thomas mustered out what seemed to be a comprehensible sentence.
"ex…use m…e who are y…ou?"
Beatrice's expression of glee turned to despair as she looked downward to hide her disappointment.
"Right. The physician mentioned to me that these miracles were often incomplete. Some or all memories may be missing. No… that's quite alright. It's just more of an opportunity to educate my son again!"
Her expression brightened. She went deep into thought, and after a moment of suspense, began to speak again.
"I am your mother. You are son to Sylvanus Rose, the head of the House of Rose, a Barony under King Lionheart's eternal reign."
The corners of her lips narrowly creeped downwards as she had the thought, furrowing her eyebrows and biting the inside of her lip to restrain herself before she would believe Desmond would notice.
"That- is our house's insignia."
She pointed to a mantle on the wall above the doorframe. The intricate design of a rose in full blossom was in full display upon the wooden shield with careful painting of it's red and green dyes. The intricate craftsmanship was on evident, with each petal on the rose being beautifully carved and painted a crimson red. The stem at the base of the rose was in detail as well, with thorns lining the innocent-looking flower, ready to stab at anything willing to take it as something weak.
Snapping away from the artistry of the mantle, Thomas began to practice his voice again to speak.
"Thank you mother, I seem to be able to recall most of those facts as well now."
This time his voice seems to have recovered it's full ability, re-emitting that charismatic charm he always had in his life on Earth.
From this miraculous recovery, Beatrice began to sniffle again.
She started to sob.
Having to waiting an arduous amount of time for her to regain her composure, Thomas faced towards the ceiling and began to recollect his current position.
So I was transported to this world where this "Lady Mary" exists, alongside miraculous healing power, which happens… sometimes? That can bring a person back from the dead. I now live in the body of this person called Desmond Rose, son of Beatrice Orlo and Sylvanus Rose. That sounds about right, but don't these kinds of stories have some aspect of the magical to them?
After slowly recovering from her joyful weeping, the floor had become littered with handkerchiefs each woven with intricate handcrafts. Taking the chance before she began to start to weep again, Thomas asked a probing question.
"Mother, how can I learn magic?"
This was the fastest way back to his sect of followers of course, magic was the only way he could even hope for a chance to go back to Earth.
Beatrice and her attendant's mouth's dropped to the floor.
"You want to learn!?"