I entered a giant bed chamber with a lofty mattress at its center. The room was just as if not more ornate than the bathroom. Bookshelves lined one wall and gaudy rugs decorated the floors with furniture that left me wincing. None of it suited my tastes. The bookshelves were fine, but the furnishing was all pomp and lavish. I was a simple man in my past life. while I would never turn down a soft sofa to sit on, I would never decorate anything with so much fluff and flair. As I took in the room I found the entrance, a set of heavy wooden doors hung open as the clank of armor and shouts echoed down the corridor outside it. I made my way to it, I needed to know what was happening. Sadly, I was still weak and tripped over one of the stupid rugs. How graceful. Catching myself on a nearby table I cursed my lack of coordination. Where this my past life I would have punched myself for tripping like that. Instead, I thought punching myself would do little more than overexert this frail new body. As I pushed myself into a standing position just in time for a bear of a man to boom into the room throwing the heavy wooden doors into the wall with a mighty crash.

“My Lord!” The bear that wanted to be a man boomed as his eyes easily zeroed in on with. His stare would have had lesser man quaking at the knees. Deep brown eyes, his brow scrunched in a scowl as his burned brown hair stuck to his forehead from sweat. He was dressed in full plate armor a splash of blood decorating its front as well as the tabard that hung from his waist. The man easily stood more than seven feet tall. Such a man would easily strike fear in any who faced him. Anyone who had never fought a Mage any ways. To me, he looked kind of welcoming. Reminded me of many travelers who I shared drinks within my past life. and the way his features softened at the sight of me made me think of him like little more than a big old cutely teddy bear. How apt a comparison seeing as he did have a bearish look to him. He came towards me quickly falling to a knee with so much weight the stone walls shook. How he didn’t break his leg with the action I didn’t know. But he made the motion so smooth that even with the crash of his fall as he gripped my shoulders and looked me over. His touch, not fierce or rough.

In fact, he seemed to extra care not to harm me. odd seeing as I expected him to try and rip me in two. “My Lord, you are alright…” His voice quivered with concern that left me flinching. The mans eyes widened seeming to think he had hurt me as he looked to see if he had wounded me in any way. His eyes settled on the bruises around my neck though. His gaze shifting to one of pure furry. I admit, I bet even a mana drunk Mage would have flinched back in fear if such a gaze was thrown at them. Instead of holding the stare through the man wrapped me in a hug. Again, I flinched. I mean, I was a Mage. Men like this were nothing to me. I was Deacon Frow, a Master Mage who had eluded the Kingdom of Cam’Lair for over five decades. I had faced Mages who treated humans like cattle, deformed abominations of magic and conquered countless throws of knights who sought to kill me. Yet this sudden affection shown from a man I didn’t know had me more shocked than any scowl he could muster.

“Forgive me my boy.” The bare breathed. The words coming out in a desperate rumble. I flinched again. The man sounded so worried it made me want to tuck tail and whimper before him. “I am sorry I let this happen. I should have been more careful!” the man rasped between clenched teeth. He pulled back and turned to the door where, now that looked stood more armored men. All paling in comparison to this bear of a man. Who now that I noticed even on one knee still was taller than me. “Search every inch of the mansion! I want any clues or assassin still left found!” The man barked at the men. Each nodding and shooting off down the corridor with clanks of armor. Slowly, carefully the man looked me over again as stood to his full height. “My Lord, I shall take you to a healer immediately, worry not.” The man said, checking his tone. His words were so fatherly. I just couldn’t understand what was going on. The man moved to guide me towards the entrance, but I pulled back. His head snapped back to me eyes wide in concern. “What is wrong, can you not walk?” He asked moving to pick me up. I wasn’t got to let that happen. With a quick and honestly pathetic slap I stopped his hand from wrapping around me.

I was not going to be man handled like that. The man froze at my sudden action. His eyes so wide in shock that I would resist that I honestly felt bad for doing it to him. He was only trying to help. But I was one: stark naked and two: completely lost on what the hell was happening. I cleared my through, wincing as it pulled at the bruise around my neck. The big man looked ready to help me but checked himself seeing as I had resisted once already. With a cough that had some blood splattering across my palm making the bear of man pale some I spoke with a rasp. “I-I would like to have-huh-so clothes b-before we leave.” I said with far more effort than I should have needed. Damn, talking hurt. I was amazed I wasn’t dead… well dead again. That thought though left me reeling as I finally took in my situation. I had died, Deacon Frow was dead. Yet here I stood a new body, in a mansion of some sort being called Lord by a bear.

As I looked up at the man before me I saw his expression as he looked me over, worry and confusion nit across his brow. I didn’t know this man. Yet he looked at me like I was his only son. Slowly I reached out and grabbed the mans elbow. My brow scrunching up as I prepared myself for what was to come. “W-who are you?” I asked, my voice sounding a little to desperate for my liking. I needed to check my emotions. It wouldn’t do to panic. Yet as I asked this of the man, he fell. His knees crashing into the floor as his eyes widened into the size of dinner plates before me. his shock so deep I expected the man to turn catatonic in any moment. Instead, he brought both hands up towards my shoulders. Quivering as he gripped me. “M-m-my Lord… Its me.” He spoke so desperately. “It’s Bartak.” He said his name desperately as he gazed into my eyes trying to find any recognition. When he found none, I half expected him to break out into tears so broken he looked. Instead, he closed his eyes collecting himself before staring into me firmly.

A look that reached deep into me that made me dread what he was going to ask next. A question I knew I had no answer for. “My Lord, do you not recognize me. I helped raise you. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten me?” I hated myself for what I was about to do. Closing my eyes and gulping I grabbed the man’s arm to support myself. I wanted to be sick, but there was no time for that. No, I needed answers and needed to know what was happening. So, I answered Bartak with a question of my own. “Who is your Lord…” I hesitated as I whispered the question. Bartak flinched so fiercely that his armor rattled together and scratched the stone floor. He didn’t answer me though, so I looked him square in the eyes and asked the question I knew would break this man’s heart. “Who am I?”