The snow buried all the corpses due to the harsh blizzard which has subsided now albeit temporarily since the north had constant harsh winters. But for now the blue sky was revealed, it stretched endlessly above, so clear and so infinite that it almost mocked the carnage hidden beneath its gaze.
Around him, it was silence as there was no scream, no wind but just pin drop silence. It was as though the North had exhaled after a long, violent breath. Gregory's scars glistened faintly under the sunlight, and despite the wounds on his skin, his golden eyes betrayed nothing. The peace he received was temporary which he knew very well but for now it was enough for him to sit down and just exist.
His gaze slowly drifted upwards, he was mesmerised by the blue sky as if it was whispering something down to him. He was waiting for the messenger bird to return to him for his next set of orders since he dealt with the dissidents as per the orders of the Crown. Maybe it would be him seeking more blood or to hunt more or even being sent to a war to finish it but whatever it was he must ensure and follow through or else it would bring shame to his family.
The silence was quite longer than usual since he has lived a violent life but something in the stillness tugged at the corners of his mind. A thread, pulled loose from time. That thread led somewhere darker than even this land of snow, and before he could stop it, the memories returned as this wasn't memories of war and not of this body or this life but rather of the one before.
A life he had before he was Gregory Rotrigor because he was reincarnated into this body with the memories of the old.
Before he became this noble man with incredible strength, he was unimportant, someone who was easily forgotten by everyone. A man who has never lifted a sword let alone a weapon, never seen battle or shed the blood of others. A man whose name he no longer bothered to recall since he did bury that past beneath the steel and scars he now has. But even then the memories still remained deep inside like regrets.
He remembered that day, his last day on earth before his inevitable death. The grey of the sky outside of his apartment window. The grime streaked glass that hadn't been cleaned for years and inside darkness, filth and decay. A single bulb flickered above, casting sickly light across a room that reeked of surrender and defeat. The floor was littered with instant noodle cups, beer cans, half smoked cigarette butts, tissues and many roaches that don't fear the light anymore.
His bed was just a mattress on the floor with yellowing sheets, torn pillows and blankets. There was no warmth, no comfort, only him as he was always alone. The walls were plastered with old photographs, half curling with moisture and in the center of many of them was a smiling woman with long hair, soft eyes and always leaning slightly away from the camera as if she never wanted to be together with him.
Which was the truth because that was his ex wife from his previous life. Ten years gone after their divorce but he never took them down since he still missed her but not out of love since all she ever gave him was suffering. He remembered how she left, how she said, "You're not the man I wanted to build a life with, you were just a convenience but I found someone better, stronger and someone who simply made me feel better." She meant her own co-worker who she was meeting behind his back before the divorce. The guy was good-looking, charming, rich with fat paycheck and very attractive compared to him who was subpar.
Everything fell apart with her departure, he lost his focus and due to that his job suffered first with late arrivals, missing deadlines and even slurred speech. It resulted in constant confrontation by the manager till HR finally sat him down and talked about professionalism before letting him go with a handshake and a severance envelope for his two decades worth of services to the company but that was the last time anyone looked him in the eye.
Without a job he lost the last remaining respect he had in the society, he couldn't keep his wife with him, couldn't keep his job, didn't have children so he was branded as a failure and his family also didn't try to understand him. They abandoned him due to seeing him as a failure because they wanted a man who climbed ladders, bought houses etc by himself not a ghost rotting in a tenement.
On that final day, a knock came like thunder. It was the first sound that startled him in weeks, "Maybe?" He hoped to see someone who came to save him but when he opened the door slowly, blinking at the hallway lights the owner of the flat stood. Short, fat and holding his nose, "Jesus Christ, it smells like something died in there." He snapped. "You're six months behind. I want you out by tomorrow or I am bringing the Cops." He didn't respond, just stared because there was no hope not in his life.
The man shoved a power towards his gut. "Final notice.. You're done, buddy.. Should've died already so it would have been easier for me." He looked down, lips twitching into something that might have been a smile, if it wasn't so broken. Then, without a word he simply took some steps back and shut the door behind him.
He then lit the cigarette after throwing the notice into the pile of trash. Sat on the railing of the balcony and below him, cars honked and people walked, the world was spinning utterly unaware that a man was perched on its edge. He took a long breath and exhaled, "Ugly.. Useless.. Unwanted.. Even God forgot me." He whispered. "My wife didn't wanted to lay with me not even once, my family didn't wanted to help me, the world didn't want to see me.. so why the fuck should I even stay here anymore?" He closed his eyes and proceeded to take the long way down.
He fell, but he didn't hit the ground yet. It was a breathless, terrifying moment where air tore past his face and gravity welcomed him like an old friend, moments before the impact something else intervened all of a sudden. It was bright, blinding but not that warm and very hollow. He felt like was being devoured by something. "Is this afterlife?" There was no impact, no snap of bones or no blood pooling on concrete as he didn't see nor experienced it making it believe that he died before the impact and is now in after life.
It was dark, empty and hollow as he didn't feel anything at all. Cold endless darkness where not even the thought could echo but he was still aware, he could remember his past life and the things that happened to him "Why? Is this not the afterlife?" He remembered thinking because he couldn't speak "Why can't I even die right? This is unfair."
All of a sudden he felt pain, the void was beginning to hurt, real pain and he felt like his body had grown larger. He couldn't move because it was heavier and maybe even stronger but it ached as if it had faced a battle. His skin felt like burning under the sunlight and his mouth tasted blood, he slowly opened his eyes, and for a moment, he was staring up at the bright sky. He heard a voice calling a name that wasn't his "Gregory... Gregory, breathe! You are alive!" A hand pressed on his chest and he saw many faces hovered above. He tried to speak but it wasn't his voice. It was deeper and rougher.
The world smelled different, it was crispy, fresh air and with steel and sweat. At that moment he knew he no longer was on earth because he never smelled fresh air back at home. It was a world where magic was real and kingdoms along with empires ruled vast lands. Bloodlines determine fate where one can be born into a common family or aristocracy. He was 10 years old Gregory Rotrigor now, one of the 12 children of the Rotrigor family who was extremely loyal to the Crown.
A boy with golden eyes, brown skin, white hair and a legacy soaked in centuries of battle. He leaned up to see a corpse laying across, "He did it again... He killed another." The crowd around him murmured and he turned his gaze to the left and he saw many people on top of a pavilion sat on chairs but they all stood up and walked away.
He realised who he was and what happened? Gregory Rotrigor aged 10 was undergoing a spar after being challenged by a senior knight of Rotrigor family and to make it fair for Gregory the battle was to be done hand to hand without weapon but it ended with Gregory ripping the heart out from the knight after the knight stabbed Gregory with a poisoned dagger. Gregory didn't survive, he died but was replaced with a new soul "Why?" He questioned because this didn't make sense and he felt like someone who stole another's place in life.
Something which he regretted forever because it was unfair not just for him but for the original owner. But to make up for it, he adhered to the laws of the family. Did everything that was told to him and ensured that he brought pride to the family. He was fifth amongst twelve siblings and he never truly met his father or mother or any of his siblings since everyone had duties and for Rotrigor duty was everything. They would die to accomplish their duties and for the Kingdom.
In his earliest years as Gregory, he spent his time on brutal training on sword, spear and bare handed combat as the Rotrigor family wanted everyone to be experienced in using any type of weapon because they must always be ready. They used a free style of combat to be more flexible rather than stuck with a single style combat. This made the family unpredictable since everyone can fight differently but also in unison as well.
He felt like had a purpose in life, after training he would rest and remember about his past life along with regretting that he considered himself a thief. Even if he made this new body the best and strongest that would still not be enough for that was a regret which he couldn't escape from yet. He would think about when he used to beg for someone to call him and how she said "You thought I wanted to grow old with you?" She scoffed. "You're a fucking joke and always were.. I didn't even consider you as someone to sleep with even after spending a decade with you." That voice still echoed at times.
"I died like a coward." He would whisper at night, staring at the moon above the Rotrigor estate. "I ran away, I let the world push me into the dirt.. and then I jumped but here, in this world I won't suffer the same." He declared, "I didn't ask to come back." He would say while gripping the edge of the window, fingers whitening around the stone frame. "But if I am here then I'll become the storm that they never saw coming.. it is at least what I could do for you.. Gregory.. for taking your body even though I never wanted to." He held his chest.
At the age of ten, he saw his first battlefield. His hands were still too small for the greatsword he wielded but he swung it anyway. Blood sprayed across his face, the warmth of it a horrifying contrast to the cold steel and yet something in him clicked. He didn't flinch or cry because he remembered that this was better than rotting alone with nothing but photographs and shattered memories of the past. War didn't lie to him, it didn't promise love and then leave, it didn't pretend and it took more and more and more from the enemies than him.
That's when he started to settle the rage and pain inside him but not entirely as deep inside him there was like a forge hidden beneath calm earth, glowing in the dark and waiting to rise. He became a monster of discipline, violence, and silence as he grew up. Everyone around him began to fear him to the point where everyone began to consider him the most dangerous amongst Rotrigor especially when he fought alone.
When he was 16, he was sent alone to the forest where bandits ruled and returned with the head of the bandit group's head who were responsible for razing many villages and terrorising merchant groups travelling through the forest.
He remembered looking into the eyes of the first man he was about to kill and seeing himself with that same hollow look and that same ache, that man begged while crying and promising that he was just trying to survive but Gregory didn't hesitate as he drove the blade through the man's throat. "We all suffer." He whispered afterwards. "Some of us use that suffering to get better." That night, he vomited behind a tree. Not from the guilt of killing but because he felt nothing which terrified him more than any bloodshed.
"I was nothing before." He murmured to the silent snow around him, "Now I am a weapon feared by all... At least better than being nothing." The wind returned, brushing against his face with a gentle touch. He did remember the past but he knew that it's all gone, all of it burned away. He stared out over the white plains, past the corpses buried beneath. "This world will probably regret letting me live." He uttered those words with disappointment.
A sharp cry pierced the air above, a falcon with black feathers and wings wide appeared as Gregory stood slowly with his muscles stretching. His eyes met the bird's descent, "You are late." He asked aloud, cracking his knuckles. "Fine, I'll forgive you for now. But one day, I'll be cooking you for my dinner." He reached out, catching the falcon on his arm as snow blew around him.
Gregory untied the scroll with one hand while the falcon stood on his shoulders while pecking at the latch tied to its leg. His golden eye began scanning the frozen horizon just in case before glancing down at the seal, the seal had the royal insignia, which was of a lion and the parchment was crisp, still warm from the journey. He unravelled it realising it was a direct order from the Crown.
The Crown wanted him to strike down a bandit group south west from his location which is a pathway he can take when he returns back to Rotrigor territory but that means he won't be travelling through the Capital which was the original plan, the targets was hidden inside an old fortress deep inside the forest. The final line stated "Make it look clean, no witnesses and burn the rest." A suspicious order to deal with bandits but he was a Rotrigor, obedient to the Crown.
He crumpled the scroll in one hand and the parchment crackling in his palm before the snow scattered it like ash. How breath misted in the cold air as he stood tall against the pale winter landscape. His body thick with muscle carried the weight of two lives with one already perishing with its willing living on with him. Every scar on his torso etched his cruel tiresome story.
He walked down from the stone, each step down in snow as his boots crunching against the buried carnage below. His shadow stretched long, slicing across the frost covered ground. The wind picked up again, whistling like a mourning woman. Gregory didn't flinch since in his mind the past and present overlapped like cracked glass. Different worlds but same cruelty and same contempt.
"You all think I serve because I believe." He murmured to the wind, hands resting on the hilt of his blade. "But the truth is that I serve because I am waiting.." His voice was low and steady. "Waiting for the day I no longer need the orders. Waiting for the day I can finally rest and enjoy this new life but for that I need to be the strongest." The sky above remained a clear, almost serene blue and mocking the rage that stirred behind his calm demeanor.
In his past life, he has waited for his death each day but here death waited for him and he simply rejected it again and again. Thirty men in the snow, bandits, monsters, treacherous nobles who all were killed by him not because he wanted to kill but because he wanted to live since dying wasn't good enough anymore. "I was a forgotten man once." He whispered, digging his fingers into the snow. "But here, I will never be forgotten because I am powerful."
The snow began to fall again but lightly this time, as if the sky knew it had to veil what had happened here. What Gregory had done, it clung to the grooves of his shoulders to the scars to the silent blade beside his belt. He didn't move for a while, just stood there in the middle of the graveyard he had made and it was silent.
"Why me?" He had asked once, long ago to the stars of this new world. "Why save a man so hollow?" The stars never did answer to him but his sword always did although in its own way. The more he pondered over it, the more he began to suspect that this second life wasn't a blessing or a reward but a test or worse could be a curse. What happens when the weak become strong and still remember every inch of their former weakness?
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. "I will survive so I can find the reason why I came here to this new world and my true purpose is." Gregory then vanished into the snow since the blizzard resumed in the north. His footprints were swallowed by the returning storm. The falcon soared above, circling like a sentry before returning back to its home and for a moment the North was silent as if it returned to the way it was before his arrival.