Rise of the Hegemon

Mom's features held a striking resemblance to my own, a testament of our shared heritage, though she stood a few inches shorter than me. "Goodmorning, mother." I greeted her as I took a seat at the table. "Goodmorning Carillus." She greeted back as she places a plate before me, the aroma of eggs, bacon, and toast filled my nose as I stared down at the food before me, the eagerness to gobble up everything seems to grow inside of me. "Now now, I do not want to see my sweet Carillus choke on his own food just because he's a little hungry." I turn towards her to see her smiling, her warm eyes focused on my expression. "Am I that obvious?" I chuckled. She sighed as she took a seat at the table, a mug of coffee in her hands, though it wouldn't take long for even the dumbest people to figure out her answer based on her expression. As I began to dig into the food in front of me and savor the taste of the meal my mother had cooked, I couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable due to t

Gradually, as consciousness began to seep back into my senses, my head throbbed mercilessly, each throb sending waves of discomfort and agony, It was as if there was a heavy drilling operation taking place inside my head. Blinking my eyes open, everything is a blur as I slowly take in the sight of the blue sky above, I could feel the rough soil beneath my body, a clear indication that I now lay sprawled up on the ground below, leaves and dirt sticking to my skin, the air was also thick with the earthy scent of vegetation, and the distant sounds of rustling leaves and flowing water. "Argh!" I grunted in pain as a piercing pang suddenly shot through my head, causing me to wince and grit my teeth, gently placing my hand on my throbbing temple, I could feel a small bump forming beneath my palm, a sharp pain surging in my head each time my bump makes contact with my fingers. How did I..? And then my memories slowly reassembled itself, the image of the bear chasing me, my hasty and desp

I found myself mysteriously standing within the confines of a hall full of people, after examining my surroundings for a while, it didn't take me too long to finally realize that I'm actually standing inside a throne room.Massive stone walls adorned with detailed tapestries surrounded me, their ancient-looking textures speak of history and a thousand stories, sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floor, while flickering torchlights cast dancing shadows inside the room, the air is thick with the scent of perfume, sweat and the acrid smell of the nearby torches.At the middle of it all, a throne sat atop a raised platform, a symbol of power and authority. Seated upon the throne was an old man wearing a crown of gold, it's unmistakable a king.. but of what kingdom?In addition, hundreds of what appeared to be aristocrats and nobles sat on elevated benches on both sides of the room, while dozens of people surrounded the king, s

The rest of the ride was uneventful aside from the occasional chatter among the prisoners, for the next three hours, I endured the steadily increasing discomfort in my rear end caused by this wretched seat.But I made no complaints.. who am I to complain against two armed guards, not to mention that I don't speak their language.The once visible town was already gone, now replaced by seemingly endless rolling hills and a dirt road that seems to stretch as far as my eye could see. So far, we hadn't passed through any major settlements aside from a few hamlets.Interactions between me and Little Fish only limits to gestures and hand signs, though I occasionally find myself unintentionally slipping English words during my 'conversations' with him. Muscle jaw memories, I guess?When the wagon finally lurched to stop, the constant shaking and creaking of the wagon had finally ceased, replaced by a moment of peace and silence which offered small relief to the rest of us.By this point, all

The fuck is this?My eyes blink rapidly as I blankly stared at the parchment sitting atop the table in front of me, my shaking hand tightly gripping the quill given to me.There's a list of what seemed like signatures written in the parchment, a collection of markings resembling signatures yet devoid of any semblance to names, like a scribble that appeared as if a two-years old child had written it.Signatures only?... No names? do they find it acceptable to merely rely on our signatures as a means to document our identities and maintain a record of our existence?I look up and stare at the two men behind the table, patiently waiting for me to write my signature, though I could still find them occasionally stealing a few glances at the outfit and sling I'm wearing.I'm sticking out like a sore thumb, I better get myself a new set of clothes... I'm not comfortable with this attention I'm receiving right now.I could still remember the astonished looks of my fellow inmates, including Li