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Zalkas looks around. He was working, he knew that. He’s the captain of a battalion of men, he remembers that. What he isn’t too sure about is what he’s doing here or even where here is. His men are surrounding a group of- well, Zalkas isn’t sure what they are. They aren’t like him; he is very certain of that.
“There,” the weird one says in sweetly innocent voice. “I’ve made us a guide.”
“Did- did you just make that thing a person?” the faceless thing asks with a heavily accented voice. It cocks its head to the side and stares at Zalkas. Well, it's probably staring at him, but Zalkas cannot be certain because it doesn’t have eyes!
“Where am I?” Zalkas asks, lowering his weapon slightly.
“You’re in a tricky spot, Custer,” the mustached man says with a chuckle.
“Pul,” the little frog man interjects before Zalkas can correct him about his name. “What the fuck did you do to this guy?!”
“I’ve made a- I made a guide,” ‘Pul’ says. He looks confused and a little sick, swaying a little on his feet. “We don’t know where we are. Need to fix memory.” He blinks slowly like he’s gathering his thoughts. He points to Zalkas, his arm moving in a way that doesn’t seem quite right. “Can help.”
“Great, thanks,” the frog deadpans.
“This doesn’t look like the office,” Zalkas mutters looking around. He puts his weapon away, not remembering why he had it out in the first place and takes stock of the situation. He’s wearing his armor, but he’s definitely not training right now. His soldiers are with him, but they are all unnaturally still.
“Hey guy! Hey dude, Scaly bits!” the little frog man says, demanding his attention.
“Yes?” Zalkas says with his typical charisma.
“Where do you think-” the frog starts to say before Zalkas cuts him off.
“My name is Zalkas,” he says so that they will stop calling him the incorrect thing.
The frog blinks slowly at him. “What?”
“My name is Zalkas,” he repeats with a smile.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me right now,” the frog groans into his hand.
“Is that going to be an issue?” Zalkas asks, suddenly fearing he’s miss stepped, somehow, with these newcomers.
“No- well maybe? Look man, I don’t know,” the frog sighs before looking at Zalkas. “My name is Glib.”
There’s a second of silence.
“Okay, it's nice to meet you Gilbert,” Zalkas says with a smile.
“No- no, it’s just Glib,” he corrects, looking at Zalkas expectantly. After about ten seconds of them just staring at each other, Glib makes a face. “Does that not mean anything to you?”
“No.” There’s another second of silence. “Should it?”
The frog stares at him with his face rotating quickly between angry, confused, and something else, and the others are staring at him slack jawed.
“Zalkas,” the southern gentleman says slowly. He steps forward and puts himself slightly in front of Glib, like he’s trying to make sure Glib doesn’t attack Zalkas. “What’s the name on your wrist.”
“Teresh,” Zalkas says after a moment. He can’t decide if he hesitated because he was caught off guard or if it was because he wasn’t sure whose name was on his wrist. “My wife’s name.”
“Are you sure? Have you seen it since you’ve, uh, woken up?” the mustached man says in that same cautiously slow manner. Like someone trying to soothe a wild animal, but Zalkas is no animal! He's an Aldorian!
“What do you mean ‘since I woke up’?” Zalkas demands, completely side-stepping the first question.
“Oh yes, you didn’t exist before and your wife is probably not real,” the faceless one says.
“S.G.!” the frog yells at the faceless thing while Zalkas stares at her wide-eyed. It takes only a moment before his shock becomes anger.
“How dare you tell me that she isn’t real! And what are you- what do you mean I didn’t exist before?!” Zalkas yells.
“What do you remember before Palnaros woke you up?” S.G. counters.
“I remember-” but he stops. What does he remember? He remembers fractions of things. He knows that right now he should be at the office and in exactly two hours, seventeen minutes, and nine seconds he needs to go home. But where is home? He can’t remember what street it’s on. Is it in the city? He wouldn’t be able to get there from here, but he knows the exact steps he needs to take from the office to get to his front door. “I-”
“See?” S.G. says cockily. “You weren’t real.”
“But my wife?” Zalkas asks distraughtly.
“She’s-” Zalkas can imagine what S.G. is about to say, but thankfully the businessman cuts them off.
“She’s not awake like you are,” he says, throwing a glare over his shoulder at the faceless one.
“So can you just-” the frog says harshly before taking a deep breath. “Can you just look at your wrist?” he says pleadingly and Zalkas is under the impression that he doesn’t beg often.
Zalkas studies him for a moment before slowly nodding. He knows what name is on his wrist. Its Teresh. It has to be his wife’s name. He has never imagined a life with anyone else. He loves her, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he?
He slowly takes off his gauntlet to reveal the bare scales of his wrist.
Written in a clean font in simple black and blue ink across his wrist is one name.
Glib
“What the fuck?” he says, more to himself than to the others.
“Yeah, I know,” Glib says, looking defensive, but he’s clearly just using it as a front for his anxiety. “I’m kinda going through the same thing.”
“What about my wife?” Zalkas says touching the gold band on his finger. “What about my kids?” He thinks back to the soccer games he’s watched- well no, he can only remember two games, one where his kids win and one where they lose. No, that’s not right either because he’s wearing a different shirt at the games. There are only two games programmed. “Oh, Order,” he swears. “I really wasn’t real.” The world sways slightly and he kneels down before his feet can give out.
“So, are you upset about being soulmates or…?” Glib trails off, inching slightly closer.
Zalkas’ head snaps up. “No, why would I be upset?” Zalkas says quickly. “Are you upset?”
“No, just shocked. Well -fuck- that’s a lie. I was upset,” Glib says, plopping down next to him. “I don’t guess I am anymore now that I see what you’re going through.”
Zalkas looks at him and smiles.
“I hate to break this lovey-dovey moment or whatever this is- no I don’t but still,” S.G. says. “Can you call them off? Also, we are kind of on a mission.”
“Call them…?” the dragonborn says before it clicks. “Oh yes!” He laughs before standing up quickly. “Soldiers! Return to station!” Zalkas barks in a way that feels robotic. In sync, all of the soldiers put their weapons up, salute, and teleport away, presumably back to their offices.
“Okay, that’s creepy as hell,” Glib mutters.
“No, its order,” Zalkas says immediately, like his mouth is moving on its own. He blinks and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to say that. I meant to say that I agree.”
“Must still have some code in there,” the southern gentleman says, tapping him on the head. “Oh, I’m Mr. Goodbid, by the by.” He sticks out his hand for Zalkas to shake.
Zalkas flashes him a smile and shakes his hand before turning back to the group. “So, you said something about a mission?”
“Yeah, we’re here to restore that one’s memories.” Glib points to Palnaros.
“Ah, maybe the local shrink could help! She is typically at the tavern to make sure no one gets too rowdy!” Zalkas says, slipping back into his old showman’s voice.
No one objects so Zalkas stares leading the way. He walks for a moment before he spots Glib who is walking really close to him. Zalkas does the first impulsive thing he’s ever done in his life and scoops Glib up and sits him on his shoulder,
“Hey!” Glib yelps.
“Relax, Gilbert-”
“It’s really just Glib-”
“-I’m just giving you a better vantage point!” Zalkas continues like Glib hadn’t said anything.
“I can see it now,” Goodbid says as he struts up next to the dragonborn. “You two will be sickly sweet.”
“Oh God, no,” Glib says with distain.
“I don’t know, Gloria-” he gets a thump to the head that he completely ignores, “I am quite the romantic,” he finishes with a grin.
“Oh, God,” Glib groans, looking heaven-ward. “Kill me now.”