Chapter Text
The Church of Serios were a very loyal group. Any perceived slight to their god or archbishop will result in a swift, but vicious comeuppance to the perpetrator. Even if the slight was an offhanded remark about how ridiculous the name ‘Sothis’ was by a confused, lost teenager who had just been summoned to another world.
As evidenced by their continued thunderous knocking at his door.
“Quit your hiding, you milksop! Come face the righteous wraith of the Knights of Serios!” said Angry Knight #1 as he started banging on the door with both of his rather heavy sounding arms. His voice was deep and monstrous, with each word
getting more menacing as he continued his tirade.
“Face me, you coward!”
Bang
“No Knight of Serios would allow such tarnishing of our goddesses’ name!”
Bang Bang
“The word of Sothis is no mere fantasy!” The angry knight said rousing himself up.
“Disrespect my goddess huh? My beautiful, generous, pretty, kind, cute, powerful”— His speech seemed to have no end as the knights powerful voice dissolved into soft mumbles about his ‘goddess’ and her ‘lovely green hair’.
Holy shit! Emerson thought. He was sure the knight behind his door was crazy. No sane man could have their mood switch that fast. Add to the fact the ‘disrespect’ he supposedly gave the knight’s goddess was a small giggle and a mention of how ‘he’s really living in a fantasy world now’. He didn’t even mean it in a disrespectful manner! Not at all. But that monster nearly split his head the moment he said it. There was no
telling what someone such as that would do to him if given the opportunity. And Serios, why did that name seem so familiar?
He glanced over the rest of room he had rented and noticed that his cup of water had fallen from the desk next to the bed. It must have fallen during the attempted assault on his poor self. Emerson grimaced, it didn’t inspire much confidence that the only thing standing between peace and his ass being grass was this run-down peeling old wooden door. His nose crinkled in disgust when he noticed the frame was leaning slightly inwards. Thankfully, it seemed the beatdown on ole woody had stopped sometime during his musing. However, the mumbling had only gotten worse.
“Truly only my goddess could wear such divine robes with such elegance.” he paused for a second and took a laboring breath, “And that crown, ooooh that crown. Tis the cherry on top of a perfect creamy shake.” The knight’s baritone voice turned needy towards the end.
There was a minute pause, where the sound from the other side of the door ceased. Before a loud tired sigh could be heard. It had to be the longest sigh Emerson had ever heard in his entire seventeen years of life. This sigh could only be created by a man of inhumane stamina. Only by the Olympians of our world could this sigh be uttered. So amazed by this feat, Emerson missed the start of other knight’s plea’s.
“Please calm down Fergus, you’re getting worked up on Lady Rhea again.” Knight #2 said with the patience of a man who has had to deal with this kind of rambling often. The sound of loud patting could be heard echoing throughout the entire inn as the unnamed knight tried to get Fergus to snap out of his trance.
Emerson felt his fear of the knights start to slip as he heard the verbal worship of this ‘Lady Rhea’ by one and the pleading of the other. He felt like he was missing something. How’d he go from his goddess Sothis to his Lady Rhea? Perhaps if he complemented Rhea, he could gain forgiveness for his previous transgressions. Yes, yes of course! That sounded like the perfect plan to get these guys off his back.
With his fear fading and confidence climbing, Emerson swung the door open with all the strength he can muster. A mixture of the created wind and ancient wood creaking filled his ears as his eyes came to rest on the two eccentric Knights.
The sight nearly caused his jaw to hit the floor.
The Pervy Knight Fergus (seeing what he was seeing now, ‘pervy’ was being generous) had both of his arms wrapped around himself in a tight embrace, a deep cherry blush peeked out from under his untamed bushy beard. He was rocking side to side from his hip. His great double-bladed axe lay forgotten at his feet and seemed to be nearly the same size Emerson was. Never in his life had he witnessed such an enormous man be turned into a blushing schoolgirl.
Man, he really needed to see this ‘Lady Rhea’!
So flabbergasted by the axe-wielder’s shameful activities, he almost missed the smaller man at his side. A direct contrast to the man he was slapping, his hair was finely trimmed and his angular face cleanly shaved. The proportions of his body were much more aligned with what Emerson was used to. The muscles were obvious; however, they would be described as lean and not herculean like Fergus. Knight #2 was panicking by the looks of it. His eyes showed his fear, along with a hint of wariness. His thumping against Fergus was getting quicker and much more desperate.
“Fergus please, people are starting to watch! What if Thunderbrand comes in huh? You’re attracting a lot of attention, and if she hears you blather on about her beloved archbishop? It may be the last thing you do.” He said. Suddenly after those words, like he had been dunked in cold water, Fergus jolted awake.
His arms fell to his sides, the rocking ceased, and the blush completely vanished. Replaced by sheer utter terror. He started to tremble, and his face started to pale.
“Sh-sh-she di-didn’t hear m-me Right?” Fergus asked. Turning his head every-which-way as quick as he could, looking for the one they called Thunderbrand.
He placed both hands on the other knight’s shoulders, nearly engulfing him in the process. “R-r-right, Mete?” Fergus pleaded. His eyes were getting misty, and his beard was starting to twitch.
It was truly a pitiable scene.
Mete mirrored the other knight’s actions by placing his hands on the shoulders of Fergus. “No Fergus, she didn’t hear you.” Mete said annoyed “She’s not even in the damned tavern yet.”
A sigh of relief could be heard coming from Fergus. Followed by him lifting Mete off the ground in a beautiful bro-hug. “Oh partner!” he exclaimed. “You saved my life!”
Emerson finally closed my mouth as he watched Fergus dance around the tavern with Mete in his arms. Mete’s face was completely smushed against the neck of Fergus. It didn’t seem that he enjoyed being in Fergus’s arms, not with the way he was punching his back and loudly grumbling into his neck.
It was rather amusing to Emerson, watching them weave around the other inhabitants of the inn. Or, rather, watch them hit nearly every table that was occupied. It was a good thing the innkeeper wasn’t present, or they would surely be yelled at. But with the noise they were making it was only a matter of time before he came back.
He was pretty sure that Fergus had something seriously wrong with him.
Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he tip-toed his way to the tavern’s door seeking to escape. The growing crowd proved to be quite the boon. The increased chatter masked his footsteps and getting behind them would only help hide his presence from the two embracing partners. Bumping into nearly every person there he finally reached the exit.
“Hey!” a voice boomed from the other side of the inn. “Where’d that kid go!”
“Where do you think, you dolt!” Mete’s voice could hardly be heard in the crowd.
“While you were having a breakdown, he must’ve run off.”
“How could you let him escape Mete?”
“Me? You’re the one that lost control of yourself thinking of Lady Rhea!”
“Don’t you blame me! It wasn’t my fault that her divine beauty hit me in such a
manner. It’s only natural to happen when one thinks of her.”
“By the goddess, do you hear yourself speak Fergus?”
Their bickering was finally interrupted by the arrival of the Innkeeper who at first glance didn’t seem all too happy. He was slouched over his bar, his arms stretched out in front of him. Hands tightened into fists. His face was contorted into a scowl, with sharp wrinkles showing his advanced age.
“Who da hell is making a fuss in my bar!” the old man said. His eyes swept the room, before they fell upon the two entangled knights. His anger went cold when he noticed all his customers were pointing at them.
“Si-Sir Knights! Please I apologize for ma tone” the innkeeper had his arms in the air, waving back and forth. “I meant nothin by it.”
The knights simply stood there for a moment staring at the man. They glanced at each other before Fergus took a step forward, shaking his head and spoke. “Worry not, good sir! We take no offence. I may, in fact, have some blame here.”
“Yeah, don’t apologize for my partners carelessness.” Mete said waving his right hand carelessly. “He needs to learn to control himself.”
There was a pause before Emerson came to his senses and started reaching for the door.
His hand was inches from the handle, when suddenly the door swung open. It happened so fast he lost his footing and fell forwards. But fortunately, he was caught in the arms of the one who opened it. Unfortunately, the arms were covered in spikey metal which poked into Emerson’s chest, which caused the boy a good amount of pain.
Emerson jumped back and out of his savior’s arms. Eyes to the floor. He started to apologize as quickly as possible, in order to hasten his escape. But his savior wasn’t having any of it.
“Settle down there boy, what’s the rush?” she said. Her hands falling onto her hips. She looked him up and down eyebrow raised. “What’s a noble like you hanging out in a shitty little inn like this?”
“Huh?” Emerson spluttered taken aback. Why in the world would she think he was a noble? He finally lifted his eyes from the floor to look at her. She was pretty, her long blond hair pulled into a ponytail, her clothes clung snugly to her body showing off all of her the curves and honestly not leaving much to the imagination. Strangely, only her elbows and boots were armored. Emerson didn’t quite understand why she had armor across some parts of her body and not the entirety. But he wasn’t going to complain. They locked eyes, and a light blush came across his face, so he reverted his eyes down to her hip and found himself entranced by her sword.
The sword at her hip was, perhaps, unlike anything he had ever seen before. It consumed him with a feeling of agony, of loss. Hanging uncovered, her weapon appeared demonic. Made out of what looked suspiciously like bone, the blade was long with sharp handles going up and down at the sides. The sword had cracks all along the blade, this was no doubt an ancient sword. Emerson’s gaze finally reached the handle and the ‘gemstone’ that laid at its center.
Emerson’s right hand snapped to his chest—clutching at his heart—his breathing got heavy and his feeling of grief vanished. Red hot rage blanketed Emerson, overpowering his senses. His eyes floated towards hers.
“What is that?” He asked. Pointing straight at the abomination on her hip.
The woman's hand drifted to the blade, her eyes widened, mouth opening and closing. Before finally speaking, “This” she said slowly “is Thunderbrand; The ancient relic of House Charon.” —- “What is your name, boy?”
“A Relic?! No. That sword is a crime against nature; an atrocity.” Emerson wasn’t sure why he felt such a strong objection to the sword’s existence. He could feel that this hatred wasn’t exactly his — that is to say it belonged to a second sense that he didn’t have before. Leaving a sensation of wrongness trailing all the emotions he felt about the ‘relic’. Nevertheless, the emotions acted like they were his. Clouding his judgment.
“You would dare call the Goddess’s gift an atrocity! Rescind your words, and beg for Her forgiveness.” The knight pulled Thunderbrand from her hip pointing it at Emerson. Her raised voice brought the attention away from the two buffoons and onto them. Gasps could be heard, as people saw the sword she was wielding. Both remained in eye contact, sending the same message. One of conviction and fury.
“Out of the way citizens! Out of the way.” Fergus yelled. Louder than necessary. Dramatically extending his arms from his sides, palms facing the crowd. As he strode through the inn’s patrons towards Emerson. Mete trailing behind him, grimacing in embarrassment.
“I see you’ve captured him, Miss Catherine. As expected of one personally chosen by my Lady Rhea.” He said. Coming to a stop in front of them, one of his paws falling atop his partner’s shoulder, pulling him forward, “Mete and I were tricked by this scoundrel after he disrespected our voluptuous Goddess!” Mete coughed, grabbing Fergus’s attention and then quickly shook his head.
“Ah—Virtuous. I meant Virtuous.”
Catherine broke eye contact with Emerson glancing at her two subordinates, “Oh, did he now? To think someone would say such heretical things not once, but twice.” She stepped closer to Emerson. The tip of her blade nearly touching his neck. It seemed to Emerson, based on her anticipatory look, that she was expecting him to defend himself. And he wanted to. The logical part of him at least. But his logical side was not controlling him at the moment.
Emerson lifted his hand slowly and placed it on Thunderbrand, with the intention of pushing it down. But the moment his hand touched it, a rush of power embraced him. A feeling of euphoria that traveled through his veins embracing his entire body. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It caused him to unconsciously tighten his grasp on the blade; Drawing blood. He moved his hand off the sword and watched as his blood flowed out. Some of it dripping on the floor. But he couldn’t allow that, could he? No, he couldn’t. For some reason, he knew his blood was too special to wetten the floorboards of some dingy inn. His blood shouldn’t be spilled at all!
From deep within Emerson, from wherever this power came from, he could hear a voice. A young voice repeating the same words over and over again. Begging him to repeat them. “Restore! Restore! Restore!” The voice said. Until it was like drums beating on Emerson’s head. He lifted his bleeding hand up and followed the voice’s commands.
“Restore.” He softly said. Causing a bring white light to shine upon his hand. Healing the wound completely. He squeezed his two hands together marveling at his magic’s handy work. Emerson couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. He had cast magic. His isekai journey was just about to get started. He had been worried at first, as none of the stereotypical benefits had been given to him. He had been dropped in some run-of-the-mill town with no knowledge, nor any blessing from some god/goddess. But it would appear his worrying was for naught. He, like many other Isekai protagonists, had some special ability. How else could he explain the anger and the voice urging him to cast the healing spell? He was starting to think this was not some random town after all. Maybe their Goddess needed his help? Maybe she was the voice in his head? But he was getting ahead of himself. He still needed to calm down the righteous knight.
He stopped his musing and looked at the leading knight. Her arms laid limp at her sides, Thunderbrand swaying slightly. She looked thunderstruck.
“You’re truly a n-n-oble?” Mete squealed.
“Ahh! A crest!” Fergus cried out.
Catherine shook her head regaining her bearings and spoke in reverence, “A crest indeed! And one I’ve never seen before.” She looked at Emerson as if he performed a miracle, “I knew I felt something special in you boy.”
Fergus tilted himself into Emerson's view, “Ha! A test then! You knew we were Knights of Serios and wanted to test our devotion, right?”
Emerson paused for a second in disbelief. Fergus was probably the dumbest person he had ever met. And considering the high school he attended? The furry knight was something truly special. Nevertheless he wasn’t sure how to answer. Surely they would see right through him right? He couldn’t even tell you the name of the country he was in! Let alone the name of some noble family. But he didn’t see another way out of this hole he dug himself in.
So Emerson put his arms behind his back (in quite a dignified manner), puffed his chest, and lifted his head high and spoke regally, “Yes, my good knight.” —He waved his hand lazily—“Merely a test. I had heard from associates that the knight’s faith had fallen in recent months. So I, Emerson Hale, never one to miss a golden opportunity, chanced myself a duty upon my shoulder—heavy that duty may be, It is a noble’s duty!”
Mete and Cathrine eyed him warily, but Fergus suddenly shrunk into himself; Hunched over with his hands front and center, index fingers pointed at themselves slowly poking each other over and over again. He kept quickly averting his eyes from Emerson’s visage. Shyly looking all around the room
“Well. Fergus said softly, “Did we make our lady proud?” Although Emerson had just met the man, the sudden low tone he spoke in seemed completely in character. Even if it seemed off coming from such the incarceration of Paul Bunyan. He didn’t think there were many neurons firing in his brain. The knight acted more like a stereotypical Japanese schoolgirl than a Knight of the Roundtable.
“The tenacity shown by you three Knights was simply astonishing”. Calem said, smiling reassuringly at Fergus. “I was thoroughly impressed by the demeanor the three of you displayed!”
While the words visiblely soothed Fergus, the large knight stood straighter and puffed out his chest. The other two were still skeptical of the whole situation.
“Hale? And what country did you say you're from? Catherine questioned, eyebrow raised. Neither she nor Mete looked like they bought his lie.
It was a trick question of course. There was most certainly not a ‘Nobel house of Hale’. Emerson wasn’t sure why he pretended to be one. It was silly of him to think they would believe him. His therapist was always telling him to stop and think before he acted. Social situations made him nervous, and he could never be sure exactly what to say. But he had made his bed; he would have to lay in it.
Emerson looked down at his feet thinking about a answ—“Kingdom! I’m from the Kingdom.” He blurted out. Surely a fantasy world like this would have a kingdom, Right? His gaze shot up at the knights, who (two of them at least) still remained skeptical.
“Err long live the king?” He said (more like questioned the two). The Brits said that about their queen when she was alive, didn’t they?
Mete shot Emerson an appraising look, “Long live indeed. But they’re ain’t no ‘Hale’ family in Faerghus.” Mete stated, poking holes in Emerson’s story. “I spent my growin’ days only a lance throw away from Fhirdiad. So what’s your real name? Or maybe you ain’t a noble at all.” Mete narrowed his eyes at Emerson; his hand playing with his quiver. Lying to a knight, it appeared, was almost as sinful as bad-mouthing the Goddess. Almost.
Poor Fergus was awfully confused. His head was swiveling from Mete to Emerson and Emerson to Mete with incredible speed (an occasional look at Catherine was thrown in too). He kept trying to speak but nothing came out. Emerson thought he looked like a fish flopping on land.
Catherine however seemed to have cracked the case. A bright smile appeared on her face as she finally shelved Thunderbrand, “I see.” She said simply. Moving closer to Emerson she placed a (surprisingly) soft hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry ‘Hale’”—she winked when she said his last name—“Your secret's safe with me!”
“T-thank you miss Catherine.”
“Hmm.”
“Was there something else you needed?!” Emerson suddenly shrieked. His voice rose an embarrassing amount of octaves and blood started flowing to places it shouldn’t. As Catherine evidently forgot about personal space; bringing her face mere inches away from Emerson’s. He had never been this close to a girl before. Let alone a fully grown woman! And women she was. He was beginning to notice the lovely contrast between her bright blues and her tanned skin.
“Ahhh!” Emerson had to turn his head. His face felt like it was on fire. Catherine clicked her tongue before breaking out in laughter.
“Hahaha. Boy! Calm yourself! You see, ever since Lady Rhea saved my life I have dedicated myself to her and the Church. I know about all Crests. And I have never seen the one that you possess.” Her face was filled with awe. Emerson took a step back and turned his face back to Catherine. He grimaced. She was staring unblinkingly and it was a little too intense for Emerson. Before he could respond she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the inn (much to Emerson’s dismay); quickly dismissing Mete and Fergus on the way out. She continued pulling him along until they reached the back of the inn. The first thing Emerson noticed when she finally let go was the scarcity of villagers around him. And the ones that were around made themselves scarce upon seeing the Knight. He wasn’t sure why she brought him here. Confusion, it seemed, was going to be a common feeling he was going to have. What the hell was a Crest and what secret did she think she solved?
Catherine still couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. Eyes gleaming with excitement. “Well, what’s your Crest?” She asked.
“I-I um don’t know?”
Her eyebrow rose, but otherwise his answer seemed to have only a miniscule impact on the knight’s mood. Emerson was at a loss. He had somehow, through sheer luck, talked himself into her good graces. But he didn’t know how to talk himself around his ‘crest’. Whatever it was seemed incredibly important for Catherine’s church. Perhaps it was the power he received when he came to this world? That made the most sense. He would explain this to her, but telling the devoted knight he received a gift from her goddess was sure to go poorly. Emerson inwardly sighed; he would have to come up with another lie.
“You must understand my dear knight, my crest remains an enigma even to myself.” Emerson revealed, closing his eyes and bringing a closed fist to his chest, “I have ventured forth through towns and cities—bandit invested warrens and ancient fortresses. I have put myself in peril for the sole goal of finding an answer.” Emerson opened his eyes, fixing them onto the heavens, “If only my Goddess would reveal her gift to me. What say you Catherine, would you lend me your hand? I’m afraid I’ll need all the help I can get” He lowered his gaze to her, smiling as brightly as he could.
The knight put one hand on her hip and the other on her chin; striking a thoughtful pose. Ten seconds passed by before she gave an answer, “I’m not sure if there's anything I could do. Other than bringing you to Lady Rhea.”
Emerson immediately perked up when he heard the end of the sentence. He needed to see Lady Rhea. The beauty of a woman who could turn a man like Fergus into a schoolgirl must be unfathomable. He coughed to fight his upcoming blush, “Yes, I have heard of her wisdom. And would very much like to meet her.”
“Do we have a deal?” He asked. Sticking his hand out for her to shake.
Catherine looked at his hand strangely. “I hope you're not expecting me to kiss it.”
“No! Of course not! You’re supposed to shake it. Here like this.” Emerson grabbed onto her hand, shaking it up and down. “This means we’ve agreed to terms.”
“Very well. We have an agreement. Lady Rhea would’ve wanted to see you. Truth be told, I would’ve brought you to Garreg Mach anyway. With or without your approval. A mysterious crust is something my Lady needs to see.” Catherine started to walk off, motioning Emerson to follow her. Which he hurriedly did.
Garreg Mach. Why did that name seem so familiar? Serios as well was strangely familiar. It brought about emotions that, like the anger he felt earlier, did not belong to him. Pride, love, hope, and joy lingered in the back of his mind when he thought of the word.
Hopefully all would be answered when he met with Lady Rhea.
Hopefully.