Arthur The Brave One
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-Chapter 5: New Quarters-
“Residence of the Damned?”
“Yeah, that’s what it’s called.” she replied. He quickly took note of her appearance: her long, red-brown hair slightly wavered around, and was kept out of her face by a green headband: the same color as her bright eyes. She was clad in nothing but blue: blue jeans, rather wide ones for easy movement, and a light-blue shirt as well. She also carried an obscenely large sword around, even though she didn't appear as muscular.
How the hell does do you even use a sword that large? he thought to himself.
“…r name?”
“Excuse me?”
“I asked for your name, silly. Keep your mind at it, will you?”
“Yeah, sorry,” he said with a grin, “the name’s Richard. Yours?”
“Michelle.”
“Sounds French.”
“I know,” she said, her mouth curving a bit into a smile.
“So, Richard, got anything on you?” she asked, finally removing the hand she had had on the hilt of her sword all this time.
“What?”
“Geez, do I have to explain everything?” she said with sigh, “I meant to say: do you have any gadgets with you? Phone, wallet, anything?”
“Let’s see,” he replied while sticking his hands into his pockets, “I’ve got a wallet, a phone, and… that’s it.”
“Can I have your phone for a moment? I’ve got something you’ll need.”
“Sure,” he said, handing over the phone.
She opened the back of his phone, and slid a little flat plate in it.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“That’s the only way you will be able to actually use your phone here. You won’t be able to make a call to anywhere outside the castle anyway, but with the ReCoder you’ll be able to call me whenever you need to.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait! You said we’re in a castle?”
“Yeah. I didn’t tell you yet, but this place is a real fortress. It’s so huge even I am still getting lost here, if I travel too far.”
“I still don’t get it. How the hell did I end up in a friggin’ castle?”
“Well, nobody knows how. Or at least, nobody remembers. The last thing they remember is always their waking up in the first art. No exceptions.”
“And has anyone ever gotten out?”
Her smile faded. “Never. In my two months here, I’ve seen people get as high as the fifth one, but that was one guy, and he was amazingly strong. Other than beating all arts, there is the door in the hallway, but… you’ll see for yourself why we can’t get out that way later.”
“And how far have you come?”
“I have only completed the first art. Not a single one of the doors would let me through," she said, a slightly annoyed look on her face.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you enter an art by finding its door: you can tell by a huge number burned into them. However, they’re only at the same place for about an hour or so, and this place is huge. However, even if you’ve found the door to, say, the second art, it might not even let you through.”
“Why not?”
“No clue. It appears to be random.”
“Hmm…”
They both fell silent for a moment, until they heard another voice. A man’s this time.
“Michelle, Michelle! Dinner's here!”
“Who’s that?” Richard asked.
“Hm? Oh yeah, that’s Olaf.”
Immediately afterwards, a huge Viking, at least eight feet tall, stormed into the hallway. His clothing looked like it was all made of semi-frozen pelts, and he had a large brown beard. Richard thought he looked more like a bear walking on two feet than a human. However, opposed to his intimidating posture, he had very lively, cold blue eyes, almost sparkling.
“Oh-ho!” his loud, bass-tuned voice rumbled through the hallway, “it appears we have a new one!”
“I assume you’re Olaf?” Richard said, still slightly shaking.
“Jup, that’s me!”
“Olaf, for Pete’s sake, lower your voice a bit!” Michelle shouted. “We’re all going to go deaf if you continue like this!
“Sorry,” he mumbled through his beard.
“Good. Now, Richard, come along with me, and we’ll show you your room."
They strolled down the hallway, Michelle and Olaf were whispering to each other a bit, and Richard just followed them, hoping the ringing in his ears would eventually stop. After a couple of turns, they arrived in what appeared to be the hall of the castle: a huge plateau with a twenty meter tall double door to their left, and countless stairs and hallways in all other directions. When he looked up he couldn’t even see the roof: it was that high. The walls here were made completely out of solid rock, and he could hear everyone’s shoes clacking on the ground, echoing countless times in the giant structure of stairs and corridors. Other than that, there was not a single sound to be heard: even Olaf and Michelle had fallen silent. It created a really weird sense of vulnerability, as if the hall itself was alive, ready to devour them any moment. It took him some time to notice it was fairly hard to breathe, as if the air itself was affected by the atmosphere.
He studied the doors some more. They had a most remarkable decoration on them: thousands of golden bars, running all over them, like a golden spider’s web, yet different, harsher.
However, that pressing feeling disappeared immediately after they had crossed the hall and had entered the corridor. In this part it appeared that the walls were made of just your usual red and white plastered bricks, in opposition to the wood back where he had arrived.
“How come this part is made of different material compared to back there?”
“Huh, what?” Michelle asked, looking like he had disturbed her most peaceful sleeping.
“He means the walls.” Olaf said. Then, directing himself at Richard, he said: “Well, this castle is divided in four... eh… divisions. You’ve got wood, stone, ice and metal.”
“Ice?” Richard asked.
“Yeah.” Michelle replied. “However, the ice and metal divisions are pretty far from here: they lie behind the wood and brick departments, and they are the only places where you can find the last of the four arts, I’ve been told.”
“Ahah.”
Suddenly, remembering something, he asked: “Olaf, what arts have you completed?”
“Eh?” he said. “I guess that’d be one and two.”
“So you can tell us about the second one, then?”
“Nope, no can do.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because… Oh, see for yourself. .”
“Huh?” Richard replied as, obviously, Olaf had proved unable to make a sound, while he was most certainly moving his lips.
“Well, that’s what happens when you try to talk about the arts with others. There’s a magical censure on it.”
“And yes, before you ask, we have tried dispelling that.” Michelle added to it.
They took another turn, and came into a hallway that looked exactly similar to the last one, except for the fact that the both walls appeared to be almost completely filled with doors.
“Well, welcome to the Quarters. Every room has a television, a fridge, a closet with clothes, and a bed. Clocks and everything are provided.”
"Woah, the what?
"The Quarters. The place where we sleep and eat, y'know. We've got just your casual lodges, but there are a few special ones.
For example, every night there appears dinner in the Gathering room at seven o’clock. Make sure to be back by then, as it disappears at seven-thirty.”
"It disappears?"
"Yeah, just like, poof, and it's gone."
“Also, about that calling… what if I run out of credit?”
“You won’t.” Olaf replied, “calling using the ReCoder doesn’t cost you any money. Also, you don’t use any phone numbers. You just say the name of the one you want to call, and if he or she has got a ReCoder too, their phone will beep. Simple as that.”
He wanted to go take a peek in the room to his right, but Michelle was unrelenting: she just took his arm and practically dragged him to another door.
“This,” she said, “is the kitchen. If you’ve ever got something in your fridge you want for breakfast and needs warming, you go here. There,” she said, while pointing to the opposing door, “Is bathroom one. The three doors to the right are two, three and four, but I don’t think we’ll have to use ‘em that often. Only difference is that one and two have a bathtub and showers, while three and four don’t. Got it?”
He nodded, and she dragged him along further along the hall. They now came to the first door that had some sort of decoration on it: two golden dragons, intertwined.
“This,” Michelle continued, “is what we call the Gathering. It’s basically just the room where we come together if and when we need to. Also, as I’ve told you before, dinner gets served her every night at seven. Don’t forget that, or you’re gonna starve.”
“Right, got it.”
“Just as a side note, Olaf’s in room fifteen, that’s further down the hall, and I’m in room one, the very first one. Yours is seven.”
“Why does it specifically have to be room seven? Why can’t I just go to another room?”
She sighed once more, and replied: “because that’s the only other open room. You see, whenever someone new enters the first art, a room gets unlocked. So every morning, we check whether or not there’s a new open door, and if there is one we just go check on the Tablet, the big stone poem where we met, every once in a while. Now, let’s go eat, before dinner disappears again.”
They then all walked into the Gathering room, the interior of which seemed to be perfect for it’s purpose: there was a huge, oval table, with quite comfortable, black chairs all around it. On the table was, for now, a buffet like he’d never seen before. And all of that for just three people. Or, that was what he thought at first, but then he noticed there were two other people already in the room: a man in a tuxedo, and a cloaked woman.
Why is he wearing a tuxedo? I mean, it's not really the best outfit for battle.
"Oh yeah," Michelle said, "Richard: Dave and Charlotte. Dave and Charlotte: Richard."
Charlotte smiled and replied with a friendly "hi," Dave simply nodded, his eyes obscured by the sunglasses he wore.
The three of them took a seat at the table, and everyone ate.
After dinner, he decided it had been a long enough day, wished everyone a good night, and went to sleep. Tomorrow was probably going to be a long day. He had to get out of here. He had goals that needed completion.
< Message edited by Arthur The Brave One -- 6/21/2009 8:17:57 >
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