I… I don't remember most of what happened in the story.
I mean, it had been ten years or less, after all. I'm bound to forget a thing or two. But, the thing is, I don't remember what comes next. I'm not even in my thirties yet. Why is my memory so damn shitty?
I recall how Benedict died. I remember the fall of The Federation; Benedict's treason against The Federation; the Great Nephling Plague and others.
But I don't remember what comes after this.
I always had a bad sense of memory but this is too much.
My mouth felt full. I puked what looked to be undigested candy from The Federation mixed with blood and teeth.
Teeth?
I gaped my mouth and entered five fingers, feeling my gums. Three teeth had fallen.
Is… Is this what not brushing your teeth for twenty-four hours does to you? No, obviously not.
My body felt like it was rotting. My mouth felt full again, but this time, I swallowed. My stomach churned as though I had eaten something bad. But there was nothing to digest as I had not eaten in a day.
"I… I need some rest."
I decided to enter the train and rest on the seats there. The windows were fogged so I wasn't sure if there were people inside.
Through a small gap in the door, I entered my hands and pushed away.
I entered.
-
I deflated on the seat.
I saw a flashing light and realized that it was the reflection of a man's glasses.
My eyes fluttered open.
"You may be all wondering why I brought you all here today…"
Baffled, I arose from my rest. I had the feeling I looked like a homeless man right now.
The old man that spoke looked very chic. He didn't look to be someone in the middle of the apocalypse.
I was confused but I stayed quiet.
Another said, "Yeah, everyone's aware."
"Spectacular."
The old man entered the driver's compartment of the train and pressed a red button. In an instant, the train began moving slowly. I stood up from my make-believe bed grogilly. But then it sped up more and more until I realized we were falling down a hole. My body ragdolled like a test dummy from the speed the train was going at. I rose to wipe the fogged windows and saw that we were further underground now. Walls of dirt and roots surrounded the train's windows.
Like in Alice in Wonderland.
The six other men and women began screeching. I, for one, remained quiet yet curious.
[The Narrator had rewritten the story]
[Commencing in five…, two, one]
The train landed roughly with a thud.
The fashionable old man stood and proclaimed: "Follow me."
We all followed him.
"The seven of us will, of course, struggle in communicating with this angel but it will be all worth it. The Art of Languages will help you in the long run."
Whispers of affirmation spread like waves among us.
A brown-haired man raised his hand, "Excuse me, sir. But seven? Benedict isn't with us so shouldn't it be six?"
The old man coughed, "Oh, right." He looked over at us, finger pointing on our heads. "One, two, three… seven. That's strange. Why are there seven of us, including me?"
A blond man took a step forward and stood alongside the old man. He pointed to himself, "Me, Harriet, Richard, Beatrice, George, Reverie, and Jack."
Huh? Why does he know my name?
"We've been under your care since junior high, Uncle George," said Chris, the blond male. "Perhaps your age is getting to you?"
George muttered, as if intending the words for himself only, "No, no. I was certain that there were only six of us, not including Benedict."
I was bewildered. Why were they acting like we've known each other for decades?
[The blond named Chris looked at Reverie. He said:]
"What are you doing, Reverie? Let's go."
[Reverie could only nod.]
This was very unsettling for me. Creepy, even. But I followed behind them.
We went further through the cave, a dim light enveloping us from the hole made by the train's entrance.
It must be noon by now. Don't they say that noon is when the demons come out? Am I among them right now?
I do wonder if they were talking about the same Benedict I knew of.
While this seems like a strange situation, I don't feel as conflicted as I was during the lesser round from before. Even though I don't remember writing this in Imperfect Knight.
We stopped after around five hundred meters into the underground cave, crickets cooing.
Before us was a silver-blue door around seven feet tall, and sunken characters on the floor.
Old man George knocked on the mineral door, his knuckles leaving craters where he had tapped, showing that the door was rather soft.
A sudden glow blew onto us. The damp torches were abruptly lit, one by one. The temperature increased, we all began perspiring and took a step back.
Little by little, the door melted into the stone floor, filling up the hollow letters with the soft metal.
"Wha does it say?"
I could not speak. My mind had realized what the Linguist attribute did now.
This…
«The Flawed Chevalier»
«They say that to don the mantle of a knight is to be chivalrous indeed. Yet, lo! Each man bears his blemish. Forsooth, I cannot summon to mind the names of all their faults anon—but this truth standeth firm: whether knight or knave, we are but mortals, ever bound to imperfection.»
This was the first paragraph of Imperfections of a Knight!