The Commoner’s War

The seas were growing dark again. Monsters and demons were rising from below, and above, wicked angels from the sky. He fought madly, twisting and turning, but each thrust left a bloody wound on his body. Fear spurned him on, but the enemies were endless. He could see a litter of corpses in the distance, the aggregate of his life’s work. Was that the result he had been working towards? Nothing more than endless death and decay? Tendrils closed in and him. He screamed, his cries echoing through the world.

Jereas woke up, breathless underneath a layer of sweat. He was in a bedchamber, and a young woman was holding his hand with concern.

“Are you well, knight? You looked like you’d seen the storms of time itself.” Right. It was Carol. She was running errands in the room he found himself in, neatly arranged and organised like clockwork.

“Please forgive me. I must be on my way.” The infernal Giants and mechanical beasts plagued Jereas’s thoughts, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Coughing loudly, he wanted to retch, but nothing came up.

“Nonsense. You are to stay, at least until you are fully recovered. Even I can tell that you’ve been through the Netherworld and back.” She sat beside him. There was something comforting about Carol’s presence, someone that left him vulnerable, wanting to tell her everything.

And so he did.

When he had finished he was expecting disbelief and laughter. “You’re free to jest now, if you please.” It didn’t matter. He had gotten the feelings out of him and felt a little better, at least.

“So the legends are true, then....” She only sat there, pondering, as if listening in a classroom.

“You actually believe me?”

“I saw you fall out of a gateway of light. Why else would a noble knight appear in my fields as if he’d seen the spawn of evil itself? There’s no reason for you to lie.” She held him by the hand. “Heroes in tales and legends always seem so hurried, so rushed. You have time to cool your head at least.” She sounded like Mother, the way she conducted her speech.

“There is no time. My enemy is time itself, why should it give me a chance to breathe?”

“Hah. Time.” Carol scoffed at the notion. “We live and breathe, going through each day in monotony, and for what? A few coins of silver and the week’s end? Why? You talk as if you’re defeating a grand enemy, monstrous in nature. But heroes fail to understand the common struggle. The heartbreak and ache of a normal life, the life that commoners need to face. At least your enemy is visible. Ours isn’t.”

Carol seemed visibly angry.

“I’ll leave you to your musings, hero. Feel free to stay as long as you please.” There was a hint of contempt behind her words.

As she left the room, Clei began to glow. He picked it up. Suddenly, the staff glowed brighter, and started speaking to him in the Elder’s voice.

“Master!” He could almost cry with joy.

“Jereas. You seem to have entered the War of Ages timeline. You are required to distinguish yourself if you are to raise an army against the current Light One. As it stands, you are less threatening than an ant in the dirt. But you may rise higher, evolving into something greater if you so choose.”

“How in the name of the Earthen Realm am I supposed to do that?”

“Search and you shall find, young one....” The staff’s brightness dwindled until no light remained.

He was left with nothing but more questions. What exactly was he supposed to do? What had his master really entrusted him, a clueless green boy, with? How could he of all people save the world?”

Jereas had calmed down by now. He was inside Carol’s room, a room not unlike his previous one. The wooden floors creaked under his step but the sun shone delicately through the window. Did I say something to offend her? He scratched his head.

Distinguish myself how? Jereas knew nothing of this land’s politics and lore, religion and customs. Perhaps he would find Carol, apologise for whatever he said, and hope to find out more. When training in the Elder’s timeline, he had not known of Fealdar, but he had heard of the War of Ages. The war that splintered time into a million pieces.

The Shadows’ Adept. That was his unseen foe, timelords working under the current Light of the World. And those monsters of metal. He shuddered at the thought. Hero tales typically ended with light triumphing over dark, good over evil. But it was always power that dictated what was right and wrong. A pure heart did little to nothing.

Jereas walked around, inspecting the ordinary house. It seemed Carol was quite well off on closer inspection; with generous-looking paintings hung up, and marble statues of what looked like a religious figure: a bearded man holding a staff, robed and wise-looking. Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching him.

“Sometimes I wonder if he’s even there, watching over us at all. My Father always claimed he was, as did Mother, but I never felt his presence myself. For why would he allow such misery and anguish, so much suffering, so much hate? The Light of the World sure plays cruel jests.”

Yes, he does indeed, Jereas thought. This was a ploy; the current Light One operated in the Shadows, stealing and butchering as he pleased to maintain his dominion. He should not be a being to be worshipped.

“I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. After being displaced I’ve never felt...so distant in my suffering. But I’m sure everyone goes through their own hurts. Including yourself.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. If anything I should be the one saying sorry for dumping on you.” Carol’s eyes looked forlorn, as if she was a maid with eyes who had experienced too much. Must have had a troubled past, he thought. But he had no time to worry about others, not with the universe at stake.

“Can you tell me of the War of Ages?”

Carol froze. Whether he had triggered a switch in her, he did not know, but quickly followed up with, “oh, if it pains you to speak of it, it’s alright.”

“No, I will. This is important, right?” He nodded.

“One day the King of Fealdar decided to gather all able-bodied men to the garrisons. It was time, he said, to cleanse humanity of its sins. There was darkness festering in the earth, ripples of dark matter that he escaped from beneath to lay waste to our world.

“My father and my brothers left, and never came back. Darkness must have crushed them as a human steps on an ant; their lives reduced to nothing but fodder. Thus began the War of Ages, where portals to Fealdar, and likely the entire human realm, had opened. Distortions of space and time started to create inconsistencies in our everyday lives. Sometimes I would find myself walking towards the bakery, only to find myself at the apothecary. Days on end I would wake up in different houses, having switched places with friends and acquaintances. But I’m sure the fury of the battlefield was much worse for my brothers and father; who knows what kind of monstrosities they would’ve faced....”

“And how did it all end?”

“An old man, with a staff that matches the description of the one you have lying back there. There was a blinding flash of light as well. That’s what ceded the doubt in my mind about you and your tale.” She sighed. “The stories seem to be all true then, it just feels unreal when you experience it. Like you’re in a dream.”

In a dream….