A slight shine in Simon's eyes as he heard the name Aaron Firehand. "I was trapped in a place, held by magic. I haven't had time to catch up with the news."
"It isn't anything new. People have been calling him the Mad God for a while now. So explain to me, how a man who doesn't exist on this plane anymore can talk to you, let alone keep his memories of this place?"
"I don't know," Simon says. "Surely people have talked to the dead before."
"Except he ain't dead. Now, you never said what your name was, Sir Inverted Eyes."
"Excuse me, I am Simon Ulcrates. Did my legacy die that quickly?"
"Ulcrates... Arón spoke of an Ulcrates once, said he was a 'fine bloke'. But non elf us ever saw hide or hair of you. We thought Simon Ulcrates was just a fantasy Aaron thought up. But then, if you're him, you can boot up the technology in this room, all at once, without touching anything."
"Of course I can," Simon says, smiling. With a flash of green in his eyes, the machines boot up. "Need anymore proof?"
"Go back to Ariororon, and hand the guards this." The man hands Simon a tiny pendant of a scepter. "They'll let you in licking-split."
"Will do," Simon says. "Thanks, Mr..."
"Dalabrac. They call me Dalabrac the Dying, because I'm always dying.
"Aren't we all?" Simon laughs. As he leaves the secret room, the technology powers down.
YOU ARE READING
The Nation of Las Aminour
FantasySet after the defeat of Aaron Firehand in the capitol of Las Aminour, the citizens now find themselves settling in the city of Arioron, the new capitol. However, just like Las Aminour, there are deep troubles hiding below.
