The Novel Without a Name

Initialed past

              I followed Priest Sallince through the crowded town streets and saw a vast majority of the townspeople. They lined the streets, whooping and cheering as we walked. Some even gifted refreshments and artistry. Sallince announced me as the mighty savior to the people we greeted. It was truly a bit overwhelming , I have not even done a thing and yet, they worshipped me already. Babes were asked to be blessed with the saviors lips and Priest Sallince would have me do so. It was oddly satisfying to see family's faces light up with joy upon seeing Sallince and I.

             We had continued to walk amongst the town till we came to what I could assume to be the castle. It's towers were tall and guards peered down from above at us. The castle itself seemed to be the exact copy of my own. Three large towers stood tall by the front gate and the castle itself was smaller than most others. Its own towers were barely visible over the fronts. Each brick near the bottom was covered in vines from the moat surrounding it. The vines held assortments of flowers, all of which reflected a bountiful amount of colors onto the moat. The setting sun shimmered on the water's slimy surface. Rocks sat in the water barely breaking through its murky depths. Sallince jingled a set of bells around his neck and the wooden drawbridge in front of us lowered. An exhausted moan croaked its way out of the bridge. Multiple nobles stood on the other side. All were frozen in awe as we crossed the old bridge. They had seemed less excited to see me than the village people did, however, and thanks to that, Sallince and I made it to what I assumed to be a throne room in a small amount of time.

         He insisted I rested before we discussed any and sent me to a room off to the left side of the throne room. Before I was taken to my room I examined the throne. The throne itself was draped in a purple cloth, signifying the natural death of a king, and that the prince was to be taking over. After my death my own throne would've been covered in a sky blue cloth, for sky blue stood for the assassination of a king by his blood. For as long as I had been able to stand in the room I could only assess the cloth. The guards latched themselves to my side and walked me to the room.

          Once in the room I sat myself down on a freshly made bed. The room was larger than I expected it to be and held very little for its size. A dresser against one wall, a few bookshelves against another and a window on another. Attached to the dresser was a lengthy reflective glass. I watched myself sit quietly. Every now and then I'd move one of my limbs to see that I was indeed watching myself. It made me feel a bit hysterical. All of this was unreal, simply unbelievable.

          I had been resurrected after dying at my own sons hands, of which are more than likely buried millions of feet under the soil. Not soon after I was then introduced to Thompson. He told me of my existence, and how I came to be alive. Thompson then told me of my line's end. I still have trouble processing it. Every one of Hanson's descendents had died, it was a bit disheartening to think about. My lips parted with a heavy sigh at the somber mood now neighboring me. Slowly I reclined, my back soon met with the pappy material of the bed and seemed to melt into its cushion.

           My eyes now watched the still canopy of my bed. Only for a small moment did my thoughts of Hanson pass me to be brought back by small scratchings made in the wood. It's sanded surface was interrupted by two initials. My eyes widened as I stood on the bed. Not caring of the source of the stains on the satin sheets, I reached for the scratchings as I recognized them. My sons initials were sloppily etched into the veneer.

         "Is this?" I climbed off the bed and looked at it from a far. The beds wooden frame looked freshly cut and lacquered. It's banisters held floral carvings up and down their middles. The flowers ended and a smooth curve would slim into the top of the veneer. The veneer itself was wood other than the bit of cloth canopy that draped over its open top gently.

          This was Hanson's. I had it made for him when he was young and gave it to him for his 10th birthday. He cherished the bed greatly, it was the first present I had given him. It wasn't the best present to give a young child however, a bed of this sort took years to make. The wood was specifically enchanted to ward off demons and aide you in sleep. Even the canopy was enchanted to protect. Although witches were inhuman creatures, I had a few who I'd send nobles out to collect from. A many nobles died before we found the witches who'd accept our payments graciously. It was a miracle when we had found a clean witch, one who's oath was with holy light.

           I turned myself to look around the room. Everything in this room was Hansons, other than a couple added trinkets here and there. How are his things here? I thought he lived decades ago, his things should've corroded. I don't even remember asking the witch to preserve his belongings. A sharp knock at the door had me whirling around. Has Priest Sallince come to discuss more with me already? I should ask him about Hansons things. Another knock at the door and a voice called out.

             ¨Mr uh Sir Fintle? May I come in please? Lord Sallince has asked me to bring you food, and my hands are just a bit full with the tray to carry the food and I would be.. honored? if you could please open the door for me?¨ The voice was muffled but I could hear it was female. She sounded nervous. I reached out and opened the door for her, and she came stumbling in. The glasses on the tray chimed against one another as if having a pleasant conversation, on an ordinary day I would've found these sounds annoying. The clinks would mean underdisplined servants back in my time, but right now they meant something entirely different.

           My stomach growled as an ambrosial scent walked its way to me. I greeted the scent with glee as she revealed the dish underneath the silver top.

           ¨It is truly wonderful to meet you, Sir Fintle," she turned towards me and gave a wide grin, ¨ Oh you're drooling sir.¨ I snapped out of my food haze and hastley wiped my lips. 

          ¨I apologize, I have not seen such a delectable meal in ages. It's a wonder what being Cry... Cryooled? Cryloom?¨ I paused for a moment forgetting the very process that kept me alive.

         ¨I believe it's called Crynilling, Sir Fintle.¨ She giggled a small bit and quickly apologized for correcting me. The young woman had a charming manor to the way she spoke. Her voice was an erratic silk that leaped from one ear to the other. 

              ¨Thank you dear. Now where was I?" I was struggled with keeping my focus with both the food and the woman standing in front of me. "Oh, it's a wonder what being Cryniled can do to a man's stomach.¨ I let out a low chuckle and finally took notice of the woman's features. The woman's tanned face was a mix of graceful and childlike with her dainty cheekbones and wide credulous eyes. Her long auburn hair was streaked with shades of gold that seemed to resonate with her leaf green eyes. Not too below her eyes lay a well-rounded nose, and even farther below sat curvous lips painted a soft shade of peach pink that seemed to match with her flushed cheeks. She was utterly beautiful. "May I have your name?"

             "I'm sorry?" She tilted her head in confusion. My voice had come out strained from my lack of breathing and seemingly made it hard to understand my words. I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes.

           "Oh I apologize, I would be deeply flattered to know your name." Her face was set ablaze with shades of rose within seconds.

           "Mm-my name is Fayne Bauer." Fayne looked taken aback by my question and answered unsure of herself.

           "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bauer." I bowed and smiled up to her. A small smile grew upon her beauty and all feeling in my legs adurbtly dispersed. I toppled over on to the wood planks below our feet. Auditory silk once more covered my very being as she laughed. A small part of me wanted to yell at her, but another part of me was struck by her.

            I quickly traced the young woman's frame with my eyes, committing every part to memory. She wore a maiden gown of a satin looking material that hugged her hips tightly and flowed like a river down her middle. Miss Bauer's shoulders jut from her neck with a dull sharpness. She was slender with a kind roundness to her.