A Stranger's Memory

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The forge crackled behind the man while Julius stared at the wall, still trying to understand what had happened. He had touched an axe and suddenly found himself reliving the memories of someone who had been dead for years.

The large man watched him in silence.

"Kirves."

The man had been staring at the ground, but his dark brown eyes now met Julius's. "The name is Kirves."

Julius swallowed, still anxious from everything that had happened. "Julius."

Kirves gave him a slow nod. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

Kirves' eyes narrowed slightly. Only then did Julius take a proper look at him. Kirves was enormous, standing close to two meters tall, his broad frame making the forge behind him seem smaller. Thick, scarred arms rested at his sides, his hands rough and heavily callused from years of work. Short dark hair sat above his weathered face, grey beginning to show near his temples. His eyes remained fixed on Julius.

As if he were trying to understand something that didn't make sense.

Julius shifted uncomfortably and glanced toward the nearby window. His reflection stared back at him. He looked ordinary beside a man like Kirves, slim and unremarkable beneath his worn sleeveless tunic and faded brown jacket. A thick dark purple scarf hung loosely around his neck, the ends falling over his chest. His dark trousers disappeared into worn leather boots, while rough bracers covered his forearms. His messy hair was even worse than usual, layered strands falling in every direction. Jagged bangs swept across his forehead while longer pieces framed his face.

Julius looked away from his reflection. "What?" he finally asked.

"So where do you come from, kid?" Kirves asked.

Julius went to reply instantly, but nothing came out of his mouth. He had forgotten where he came from. "I... I come..." Julius stopped, his expression slowly changing as he tried to remember. Why can't I remember? he whispered to himself. He searched through his memories, trying to find anything. A place. A home. A familiar face. But nothing came to him. The harder he tried to remember where he had come from, the more empty his mind felt. He knew he had a past. He knew there had been something before waking up here, but he couldn't remember what it was.

Kirves observed him for a moment. "You don't remember where you came from?"

Julius shook his head. "I remember Saltus. I know where I am. I know things." He paused, trying to understand it himself. "But before I woke up here..."

"Here?"

"In Saltus. Three months ago. That's the first thing I remember."

"Three months?" Kirves asked.

Julius nodded slowly. "I used to remember... more than this." He frowned, searching for the missing pieces. Before touching the axe, he had known what he wanted. He remembered the feeling of it, the certainty that had pushed him forward during those three months. There had been a reason he kept going, something he had wanted badly enough that even waking up in a foreign land hadn't stopped him.

But when Julius reached for that memory, there was nothing there. The harder he tried to grasp it, the more distant it became. Julius' fingers slowly tightened. "I knew what I wanted to do," he said quietly. "There was something... something I was looking for." His voice faded. He waited for the memory to return. It didn't. "Now I can't remember what it was."

Julius stared at the axe. Then something occurred to him. He could still remember the warrior. Every movement. The battle, the cave. The weight of the axe in the man's hands and the moment the blade slipped between an Earth Drake's scales. Memories belonging to a dead man remained clearer in his mind than his own.

Julius looked up at Kirves. "You think picking up the axe did this?"

"I don't know," Kirves said. "But you used that thing, and now you're missing memories you once had. I wouldn't ignore the possibility."

Julius looked back down at the weapon. He had touched it for only a few moments, yet now there was a part of his life he could no longer reach. For the first time, Julius wondered what exactly had happened to him when he touched the axe.

"You said you remember the warrior. You remember what he did," Kirves said. "But you don't remember doing any of it yourself."

Julius glanced down at his hands. "No."

"I watched you fight that thing," Kirves continued. "You moved like someone who had spent years fighting Earth Drakes. Every step, every swing." Julius remained silent. "I've fought Earth Drakes for twenty years, ever since my father, the warrior you claim to have seen, died. No boy moves like that."

Julius looked back at him. Kirves reached for the axe and held it out toward him. "I don't know how you did it. I don't know what happened when you touched this thing. But I want to find out."

Julius hesitated before taking the axe. Nothing happened. No strange memories. No warrior. No Echo. Only the familiar weight of the weapon resting in his hands.

Kirves watched Julius, waiting to see if anything would happen. When nothing did, his expression tightened. "Nothing?"

Julius shook his head and lowered the axe. "Nothing."

The large man remained quiet for a second, his eyes fixed on the weapon. "I don't know how you managed to kill that Earth Drake, but I won't pretend I didn't see it." He turned back to Julius. "Come with me to Svard. The City of Swords. It's also where I come from. I know people there who may be able to help you recover your memories."

Julius tightened his grip around the axe. Svard. He had heard of it, but had never been there himself. At least, not as far as he could remember.

"Why would you help me?" Julius asked.

"I don't know what happened to you," Kirves continued, "but I want answers. About you, about that axe... and about my father."

Julius stared at the weapon in his hands. He couldn't explain the warrior's memories. He couldn't explain why his own memories were disappearing. He couldn't even remember the important thing he had once wanted to do.

But staying in Saltus wouldn’t give him any answers. Julius considered the offer, then nodded. "Alright."

Kirves nodded slowly. "Good." He stood, his large frame blocking the light of the forge. Julius followed, still holding the axe in his hands.

"What about this?" Julius asked.

Kirves glanced back at the weapon. "Keep it for now."

Julius looked at the axe. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. The last time he had held it, he had gained memories that weren't his and lost memories that were. Yet now, when he looked at it, all he felt was its weight.

Kirves pushed open the door of the blacksmith's shop, and Julius followed him outside. Saltus stretched between enormous stone pillars that rose from the earth like broken mountains. The streets were crowded with hunters, miners, and merchants, their voices mixing together as people moved between wooden stalls. Food, crystals, and bundles of wool covered the tables while hunters displayed monster hides and claws for anyone willing to pay. Julius had lived here for three months, but seeing it now felt strangely different. He had spent most of that time simply surviving.

As they made their way through the street, Julius heard a few merchants speaking nearby. "Rune hunters passed through yesterday." "Then they're probably chasing another rumor." "I heard one was found in Tulor." "People say they found one every month." Julius listened silently as they continued walking.

Kirves suddenly reached into a small leather bag hanging from his side and pulled out a piece of dried Earth Drake meat. He held it out toward Julius. "Here."

Julius looked at it. "What's this for?"

"Your spoils." Kirves shrugged. "You killed it."

Julius hesitated before taking the meat. The thought of eating something that had tried to kill him only hours ago felt strange, but his stomach answered before he could complain. He took a bite.

Kirves noticed his reaction and gave a quiet chuckle. "Not bad, is it?"

Julius shook his head, taking another bite. The meat was tough, but far better than he had expected. For the first time that morning, he realized just how hungry he was.

They continued through the crowded streets of Saltus. As they passed, several children gathered near the edge of the road, staring openly at Kirves. Their attention wasn't on the man himself, but on the reflective Earth Drake scales covering his armor. One of them reached out toward it before being quickly pulled back by an older woman.

Kirves didn't seem to notice.

At the end of the street, the crowds began to thin. Julius could see a large carriage waiting ahead. Two enormous bulls stood at its front, harnessed to a silver-imbued carriage body. An Earth Drake had been carved across the door.

A bored voice suddenly called out from the passenger seat.

"Dad, can we go yet?"

A teenage boy leaned out from the carriage. His dark hair looked damp, long black strands clinging together unevenly and falling across one of his eyes. He turned towards Kirves, then noticed Julius. His expression changed.

"Who's that?"

Kirves approached the carriage, and Julius followed behind him. "He'll be travelling with us to Svard." Tikar stared at Julius for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "Another one?" Kirves' eyes darkened slightly.

Julius frowned. "What does that mean?"

Tikar leaned back against the side of the carriage. "Nothing." His eyes drifted over Julius before settling on his hands. The skin around his palms was torn and covered in fresh blisters. Julius instinctively curled his fingers.

Tikar noticed. He continued studying Julius's hands before looking toward Kirves. The two exchanged a brief glance. Kirves stepped closer to his son, and their voices dropped low enough that Julius couldn't make out what they were saying.

Julius didn't try to listen. Instead, his attention drifted toward the other side of the street. A merchant stood beside a small wooden stall, several weapons spread across the table before him. Most were old and worn, but one caught Julius's attention.

A rusted sword.

Its once golden blade had been dulled by age.

A faint blue light flickered above the sword's hilt.

Julius stopped.

For a split second, a cloaked figure stood beside the merchant, one gloved hand resting on the sword. The figure's head was lowered beneath the shadow of its hood, hiding its face from view.

Then Julius blinked. The figure was gone, only the merchant remained.

Julius stared at the rusted sword. A strange uneasiness settled in his chest, the same instinctive feeling that something was wrong. He didn't know why the sword had caught his attention or who the figure had been. He only knew that, for that brief moment, the weapon had felt familiar.

He looked toward Kirves and Tikar, but they were still speaking quietly. Whatever Kirves was telling him, Julius couldn't hear it. He glanced back toward the merchant one last time. The figure was nowhere to be seen.

Only the rusted sword remained.

Something inside him told him not to forget it.

Julius said nothing and climbed into the carriage.