Chapter 1: Where am I?
The room lay cloaked in the muted glow of the moon, and Alaric stirred in the plush confines of his own bed. The soft rustle of sheets hinted at the disorientation that clung to him like the shadows cast by the flickering candles.
His robes, which bore symbols of noble grandeur, now whispered tales of a journey etched in the stains and wear of unfamiliar roads. The opulence of his surroundings clashed with the disarray etched across his face, he had no idea where he was, or how he got there in the first place.
Moonlight painted a silver sheen across the room, catching the nuances of Alaric's appearance. His young eyes, framed by tousled locks of midnight black, held the innocence of youth yet betrayed a glint of bewilderment in the beautiful shade of grey that turned almost silver in the moonlight.
The room, adorned with the grandeur expected of the Duke's son, seemed to absorb the traces of Alaric's dishevelled state.
Magical lamps cast a gentle glow, emphasizing the creases in his robe and the wayward strands of hair that resisted the restraint of noble composure. Alaric, a stranger to the reflection in the ornate mirror, moved with the unsteady grace of someone who had just taken the first steps in a new body.
The silence of the night was all he could hear, broken only by the distant sounds of the sleeping city. Alone in the stillness, he surveyed the room with a mix of awe and confusion, a newcomer navigating the contours of a life that felt both alien and yet intimately his own. Shared memory perhaps.
"Where am I?" Alaric's murmured query echoed softly, the question drifting into the quietude of his room, unanswered and lingering like the moonlight that painted the world outside.
In the corner of the room, a tall, narrow window allowed slivers of moonlight to filter through delicate curtains. Alaric approached it with cautious steps, drawn by the subtle glow that beckoned him toward the night sky.
As he peered beyond the window, a city unfolded beneath the cosmic canopy. The rooftops, bathed in silver moonlight, seemed to stretch endlessly, blending with the sea of stars overhead. A soft breeze carried the faint melodies of a slumbering city, a lullaby that resonated with the timeless rhythm of dreams. It was breathtaking.
As Alaric gazed at the reflection in the window, the features of the young man staring back at him seemed oddly familiar. It was as if he had encountered those eyes, that face, in another life. A sudden realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
"I know this face," he muttered to himself, the words barely audible in the hushed room. His mind raced to make sense of the connection, and then it hit him – the vivid recollection of pages turned and words he read from a book. Alaric's brows furrowed in confusion and contemplation.
The memories of his actual past, however, remained elusive, slipping through the grasp of his conscious thoughts. He could not remember anything to do with the life he lived before he found himself in this foreign land. He could not remember anything beyond the confines of that novel.
Questions swirled in his mind, a tempest of uncertainty. Why did he remember a character from a book but not his old life? How did he find himself entangled in the very tale he once perused for mere entertainment? The room, the city beyond the window, and the unfamiliar body he found himself in– all seemed to blur the lines between reality and fiction, and why did he not remember his own reality?
Alaric stood there, caught in the enigma of his own existence. The moonlit room whispered no answers, and the echoes of the sleeping city offered no solace. The weight of confusion pressed upon him, and the only certainty he clung to was the name – Alaric, which was his own.
"Is this a dream?" he wondered aloud, his voice echoing in the stillness. Yet, the tangible reality of the room, the cool touch of the stone beneath his feet, testified against the ephemeral nature of dreams
As Alaric continued to scrutinize the room, his eyes darted from one ornate piece of furniture to another, searching for any anomaly that might offer a clue to his perplexing situation. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows, heightening the tension that had settled upon him.
His gaze lingered on every corner, every crevice as if expecting the room itself to betray its secrets. Yet, the opulent chamber revealed nothing out of the ordinary.
A surge of unease gripped him, tightening like a vice around his chest. The reality of his circumstances pressed upon him with an almost tangible weight. It was as if the very air had thickened, making each breath a conscious effort.
In the midst of this momentary panic, Alaric closed his eyes, steadying his racing thoughts. The hollow space in his memories taunted him, but he understood that succumbing to fear would yield no answers.
With a deliberate inhale, he reopened his eyes, resolving to assess the situation methodically. He recalled the details gleaned from the pages of the book – the magnificent duchy ruled by Duke Astraeus, the sprawling city that bore the name Lysandria, and the nation it belonged to was Astrevia.
"This is the Duchy of Astraeus," he murmured the words like reassurance spoken aloud. He focused on the knowledge he possessed, gleaned from the novel he once read. This world was now very real and had roots in the descriptions penned by an author's imagination.
Alaric's mind went through the fragments of information, and a bit of order emerged. He was the second son of the duke, and the book had painted not so much a vivid picture of the complex dynamics within the Astraeus family. The responsibilities and privileges of such a position, now thrust upon him, demanded his understanding.
Lysandria was a place where magic and tradition intertwined in the very fabric of its existence. The nation, Astreavia, stood as a bastion of heritage and power. It was a world where the echoes of the medieval past harmonized with the pieces of a modern era.
With each recollection, Alaric felt the panic recede, replaced by a growing cold realization of his situation.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Croppedtrolley
Croppedtrolley Welcome to my second project.
enjoy :)
Yours truly
CroppedTrolley
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