God's Greatest Gift

The snap of crackling lightning dangerously close awoke him with a startle. He gasped to life, desperate to fill his lungs with air. His head pounded against his eyeballs, his legs felt like lead, and everything in between was in agonizing pain. All around himself bodies crushed against him unmoving, cold, wet. He dared to open his eyes, despite his headache's protest, only to be greeted with darkness, and in the corner of his eyes, a screen pulsating an ominous red. 1 HP. 1 MP.

He shoved the bodies aside as best as he could, but they didn't groan or speak, or even offer to move themselves. They felt a bit squishy, and definitely smelled. Until at last the bodies parted, and rain fell from the night sky and unto his face. The fresh air that hit him really drove home how awful they stunk. It was then he finally noticed the bloated, rotten bodies surrounding him, burying him. He was, in fact, in a corpse pile, and someone had regarded him as one of the dead and tossed him in one such pile, laying more and more corpses on top of him. He would have vomited had he anything in his stomach.

Instead, he pushed passed the feeling of nausea and sat up, clawing his way out of the corpse pile as the world began to spin. He was halfway out when someone scream. A woman, by the sound of it, a few feet away and clad in a plain white robe. He reached out to her. "H—hel—" was all he managed to grunt out before the world toppled over and the ground rushed to greet his face.

He woke up some time later, dry, and in a warm bed. A fireplace crackled with life nearby, indicating a safe enough place. He dared to open his eyes, remembering the last time he did so he had been suffocating under a pile of dead bodies. Thankfully, there was a ceiling above his head. Rocks. He turned his head to take in the surroundings. The whole room was made of cobbled rocks, not just the ceiling. Other than that it seemed a plain room as any. A dresser, a fireplace, a straw rug, a side table with a drink.

The only thing out of place was a chair in the corner that held a woman, nodding off. The same white robes he saw before he passed out, with her hair covered with a similar white cloth, draped over her shoulders to mimic hair. So she did get help. He glanced in the corner of his vision. He had seen a screen before, though he wasn't sure why. Now it was blue, and said 8 HP and 10 MP. These numbers meant nothing to him.

He tried to sit up, but it still hurt a bit and he groaned. The woman jumped awake, her brown eyes wide with surprise. "You're awake!" she said, her voice like a songbird. She rushed to him, and began to look him over, starting with his arms. "Are you OK? I tried to weave your wounds as best as I could, but you had already lost much blood, and that's not to say if you have suffered some type of mental injury. Is your vision blurry?" She placed a hand on his forehead.

He forced himself to feel for any pain. "Um. My ribs kind of hurt. And I do feel a bit of a headache."

The woman's eyebrows scrunched with focus as she immediately lifted his shirt to inspect his ribs. "There is a bit of bruising. Does this help?" She placed a hand over the injured side, a a bit of warm relief flooded the area. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and nodded. The woman smiled and pulled his shirt back down. Now the screen said 9 HP. "As for your head, the most I can do I give you some tea and ask you to rest."

"Thank you, Miss…?"

"Kirhellik," the woman said with a nod. "May I have yours as well?"

He opened his mouth, ready to respond, except. He didn't know. He blinked a few times, sure his mind would recover the momentary lapse, no doubt from the trauma his body just went through. Nothing came to mind though. "I… don't know…"

Kirhellik tilted her head. "Surely you must have a name."

He shrugged. "I'm sure I do. I just don't remember it."

"Hm. Well, only Lord Tellar can give you a new name. If you're feeling better, I shall go retrieve Captain Mulfaer." If his confusion showed on his face, she didn't stop to explain. She left soon after, walking with brisk determination.

His eyes drifted toward the cup on the table next to him. Or more closely, a clay mug, decorated with black dots and striped along the bottom. A quick sniff test told him it was water, and suddenly he was parched. He downed the entire cup in one gulp and was still yearning for more. He put the glass back with a pout. Since he wasn't sure if he was allowed to walk around, he decided to simply sit in bed and wait.

It wasn't long before the door opened, and a buff man walked in, with Kirhellik trailing close behind. She closed the door while the man, presumably Captain Mulfaer, dragged the chair next to the bed and plopped in. "Report, soldier."

Report? Soldier? Him? He blinked a few times before realizing that he indeed was talking to him. "Um. Report what? Uh, Sir."

"What happened in the battlefield?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. I don't remember a battlefield."

"You're the only one alive out of 300 men from the first attack of the Spirits. You have to know." Captain Mulfaer continued to speak as if he should know, but he truly didn't. He shrugged. The Captain sighed in defeat. "The Priestess says you don't remember your name. Is this true?"

"Yes, sir. I don't remember my name, or anything before I woke up in the corpse pile." At the mention of a corpse pile, the captain shuddered. The people here seemed to be afraid of death, if those two's reaction was anything to go by.

Still, Captain Mulfaer seemed to accept this response. He crossed his arms, deep in thought. "You're still the only survivor. And without a name, Lord Tellar will want to see you, regardless of the lack of information you hold. Just get whatever rest you can. Kirhellik, make sure he's ready to see Lord Tellar once it's time. Tell him the rules, too. Don't need him dead before he recovers his memory."

Kirhellik nodded. "I will see you later." Once the door closed once more, they were left in silence for only a moment before the Priestess launched into her instructions. "It's almost dawn, so get whatever rest you can. After that, you'll clean yourself, and switch into clean clothes. I will get those, and breakfast as well. Then we will go over the rules to make sure you stay alive. If I've timed it correctly then we would be done just in time."

It went exactly as she said. It was a whirlwind of activity, and he couldn't help but feel like she shouldn't be making an injured person move around so much. First he was handed a bucket of warm water and a wash cloth. He thought he would be getting a shower, or a bathtub, at the least. Apparently he was supposed to simply run the washcloth over his body. The clothes Kirhellik procured for him was a simple white tunic that reached mid thighs, a belt for around his waist, and sandals. She helped him shave and comb back his neck length brown hair when someone else came in with a table and two bowls of whatever passed for breakfast. Some sort of spicy rice porridge, which he wasn't a fan of.

"Now, the moment you see Lord Tellar, you must bow to the floor. Do not look up, do not approach until he says so, do not speak until he says so, and only answer promptly, and as shortly as you can. You must not waste his time."

"He sounds like a touchy guy."

His innocuous comment seemed the wrong sort to make. Kirhellik's face morphed into horror in a split second. "Do not let anyone catch you saying that! Do not insult Lord Tellar, nor assume his personality. And keep a neutral face as well. He will kill you if he doesn't like the emotion on your face."

He cleared his throat and looked away, sensing the seriousness of the situation. He jokes would be off place for the time being. "…Right. Anything else that might get me killed?"

Kirhellik hummed in thought, and looked him over. "Do you know how to bow? If you do it the wrong way it would definitely be seen as disrespectful, and get you killed on the spot."

He was familiar with the word but also wasn't sure what it entailed completely. There were a number of ways to bow so which one was the correct one? He placed his feet together, his hands clasped behind his back, and tilted his upper body by a few degrees.

Kirhellik sighed dramatically as a hand was brought up to rub her temples. "I'm glad I asked. You would have surely been killed before walking through the door." She then stepped beside him, giving a sharp glare. "Follow my lead."

At once, she got on her knees, her feet cradled her bottom, and her hands rested on her knees. Then she leaned so far forward, her nose almost touched the floor. He mimicked the posture and found it unbearably uncomfortable. His legs were not built this way, and his core was getting the workout of it's life from having to bend so far without support from his arms.

"Then, once he allows you to approach, do not fully get up." She demonstrated once more the proper way to do things. She placed her hands in front of her for support, and shifted her legs up so she was in a crouching position, her hands back on her knees. "Then you approach, slowly, until you are 6 feet from him." With this she waddled forward a few steps.

He mimicked her and once again found himself in an aching position he wanted no part of. It was a bit awkward and embarrassing to walk this way, but he wanted to stay alive.

Kirhellik nodded with approval. "Good. You will leave the same way. Never turn your back on Lord Tellar. Any questions?"

"There is one. I get that you guys would want to know of a random guy with no memory of the place, but can't I just make up my own name?"

"No. We all belong to the Lord. We are born by his care, and it is he who names us. Since you're here, you belong to him now, and he must name you if he decides to keep you."

"He can throw me out?"

A giggle escaped her mouth, somehow finding the concept funny, and promptly covered her mouth with her robe's sleeve. "Nonsense. Lord Tellar would never be so cruel as to 'throw out' someone. He is a kind Lord."

The fact that he had just been given about a dozen warnings and rules to be followed under threat of death made him begin to question the common sense around here if they thought that was a kindness. Or maybe he was the weird one. The place seemed strange and unfamiliar on a more subconscious level.

The door opened by the hand of the previous woman who had brought them food. "Lord Tellar would see you now."

Kirhellik nodded and turned back to him. "Let's go."