Arden’s eyes shot open as he settled into his new temporary body. He couldn’t see himself in a reflection, but he was aware that he was inhabiting a person who looked similar to his normal body in the outside world.

  The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes were his own hands in front of his face, already raised in either surrender or to try to protect himself. He realized that he was actually wearing clothes now, thankfully, and they actually looked high-end. His hands were covered in white gloves that should have been pristine, but were stained brown with small discolorations of red. Just below his gloves were crisp black sleeves of what Arden presumed to be a suit jacket.

  Before he could give a whistle from looking at his outfit, someone’s hand reached through Arden’s confused defense. Arden’s eyes went wide the moment before the fist smashed into his temple, discombobulating him.

  “That’s where the stains on the gloves came from…” he muttered, as the man who punched him came into focus, after the man kicked Arden in the side.

  Like Vera, the man seemed to possess the superior genes that made him incredibly attractive. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with several strands of his bangs falling over his piercing blue eyes. His skin was flawless like a porcelain doll, with the exception of a small scar just below his right eye.

  His clothing let Arden know that he was important. So many pieces of gold adorned his cotton white shirt that Arden believed he could blind any Celestial with nothing but a flashlight. His pants were identical to his shirt. His only piece of clothing that wasn’t white were the black boots currently stomping on Arden. Arden couldn’t be sure, but he believed that the boots were steel toed. At least, that’s how they felt.

  Arden glared up at the princely man looking at him with a contemplative look on his face.

  ‘Do all trials begin this way?’

  “Do you have anything to say?” the man asked.

  Arden wiped the blood from his nose and answered the man while slowly rising to his feet.

  “Spawn camping bitch.”

  If the man was insulted, he didn't show it. Arden figured that his insult was lost in translation, but he didn't mind. He felt a lot better having slipped in a rude comment. It was like he was back in the slums, being abused by an affluent asshole.

  “Damn,” Arden muttered. “Nothing’s changed.”

  As the man looked over him, Arden looked around the area he was in.

  The sky was a beautiful shade of blue that Arden had never seen before, thanks to the smog of the city slums. The occasional white cloud hung in the air giving the world a natural feel that had long since left Arden’s world. He was lying on the grass in the middle of a rectangular courtyard. Every direction he looked, he saw stone bricks making up the perimeter of the yard. Some distance behind the man was another one who didn't share the blonde's dashing looks.

  This man was shorter, with brown skin and short black hair. He lacked the slender muscles of the blonde, and was instead visibly jacked, like he spent a while inflating his arms with a bicycle pump. His clothes were vastly different from the other man's, as the new man wore what looked like a cross between medieval leather armor and bandit armor. It was the armor, along with the sword on his hip and deep scowl on his face that let Arden know that he shouldn't be messed with. The scowl deepened upon hearing Arden’s remark, and he reached for the sword. Before he grabbed it, the blonde man reached a hand towards the grizzled one, indicating for him to stop.

  “Settle yourself, Bellum.”

  At the blonde's command, the war hero-esque warrior let go of his sword.

  “Of course, sir. Forgive me for my haste.”

  “Consider it forgiven.”

  The leader rubbed his chin with a frown and looked at Arden like he was trying to figure him out.

  Arden was not a fan. He was getting tired of trying to be seen through. Surely, everyone had secrets. Why did they all try to learn his?

  After a few seconds, the leader spoke.

  “...Do you know who I am?”

  Arden glanced between the blonde, the warrior, and the architecture around him. Spires of stone climbed high into the sky in the distance. This was a castle.

  ‘The castle I saw before,’ Arden mused. ‘Before it was destroyed.’

  Reluctantly, Arden responded.

  “Judging by your clothes, the short guy whose eyes look sharper than his sword, and the castle, I'm going to assume that you are a noble of some sort.”

  “...go on.”

  ‘That's not enough,’ Arden realized. ‘He wants more.’

  Arden bit his lip and put on his thinking cap. His brain, which wasn't the greatest to begin with, was firing on all cylinders.

  ‘Alright, think this through. He's annoyingly handsome. His clothes are white and gold. Someone from a good family. I'd assume royalty because of the gold. Most importantly, he's young. That means he's not the lord. He must be a prince.’

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Eventually, and with sweat rolling down his face in the cool air, Arden spoke.

  “You’re the crown prince.”

  Arden was mostly talking out of his ass. His guess about the blonde being of royal lineage was thought out, but as for him being the inheritor of the throne, Arden had no idea. He just figured that someone of high blood enjoyed having their ass kissed, as evidenced by Yaan. Incidentally, Arden was never one for sucking up like he was doing now. Previously, he wouldn't bend the knee, but that was when he had his Legacy in his back pocket. Now, he had to do what he could to survive.

  The blonde slowly nodded his head and asked Arden one last question.

  “And who are you?”

  “...”

  Arden’s mind went blank. That was the one question he did not want to have to answer. He was playing the role of whoever’s body he ended up in.

  “Uh…I have amnesia?” Arden offered.

  “That certainly answers a lot,” the man said, nodding his head in understanding. “Your foggy memories, your vague guesses of who I am.”

  For one foolishly optimistic moment, Arden thought that he gave the right response.

  “But losing your memories doesn’t suddenly give you the ability to speak. And you speak a lot for a mute.”

  Arden stared at the man with a blank expression for just long enough for the man to internally question whether or Arden might have actually had brain damage. He was waiting for Arden to respond, and Arden was waiting for Arden to reply as well. In the moment, he could only say one thing.

  “Welp.”

  Two swords were immediately trained at his throat. Unfortunately, his training with Vera hadn’t progressed to the point where he could disarm two trained swordsmen as they had their swords pressed against him.

  ‘That would be cool though,’ he thought wistfully.

  “You aren’t my attendant,” the blonde stated. “Who are you?”

  Playing smart hadn’t done Arden any good. He wouldn’t even say he really had the chance to play it smart. Nonetheless, he had to change his approach. If caution wasn’t going to save him…

  “Does it matter who I am?” Arden asked. “You have already found out that I am not your real attendant. Whether I’m an angel, a demon, or an outworlder, you would be well within your rights to cut off my head and use it as decoration for one of your many castle spires. Splendid castle, by the by. Much better than where I came from.”

  “Do you not fear death?”

  “Of course I do. I’m actually petrified right now. What you’re seeing right now is me trying to fake enough confidence that it’ll shake your own confidence. Is it working?”

  “So you admit to being scared?”

  “Dude, I’m unarmed, weak, and being held at swordpoint by two professional swordsmen. The only reason I’m not actively shitting myself is because I have nothing left in my stomach.”

  “You’re quite vulgar,” the leader said with a face that shared displeasure and disgust in equal measure.

  “Comes with the territory. I’m lowborn, so etiquette was never one of my things. Truth be told, I despise the classist values of the world, but then again, I am at the lowest rung, so there could be a bit of bias there. Unrelated, but can I have your sword?”

  “What?”

  “Well I can't rely on grave robbing to get weapons forever,” Arden said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Awful craftsmanship, you know?”

  Both the leader and Podren shared a glance. Arden had to suppress a smile, recognizing the confusion etched onto their faces. No doubt, they thought of him as a lunatic. Slowly, the two men lowered their swords to Arden’s shock. He didn’t actually expect it to work. Inwardly, he was already writing his will. When the swords were sheathed, the blonde spoke.

  “Here’s what we’ll do,” the boss said after some thought. “You will continue to be my attendant, and you will act like you did before today. You will continue to act mute, and if not, I will turn you into one myself, are we clear?”

  Arden silently nodded his head. No way he was going to fall for the classic answer gambit, where answering verbally resulted in punishment.

  “What’s going on here?” came a warm voice.

  All three of them turned their heads to see the speaker.

  The person who interrupted the lord was an old man with long white hair and a flowing beard of matching color. He was wearing white clerical vestments with what looked like small flames decorating the robes. He stood tall with an ornate wooden staff at his side, like a wizard. Less wizardly was the lack of any footwear.

  Arden didn’t focus too much on what the old man was wearing. He was more enthralled with the power of the man. He wasn’t letting his power leak out, but Arden knew he was strong from how he appeared out of nowhere, despite Arden looking around shortly before.

  The lord hesitated for a brief moment and gave a short bow.

  “I humbly greet your Holiness,” he said.

  Bellum bowed as well, and not wanting to stand out, Arden followed suit.

  ‘Why are there so many bigwigs here right now!?’

  A prince and a wizard pope. If a goddess descended in front of Arden in the next few minutes, he was going to lose it.

  “I trust you weren’t abusing your attendant, Nux.”

  “Of course not, your holiness,” the young leader, Nux, replied. “Doing so would be a spit in the face of the Helios Church’s teaching. What brings you here today, holy father?”

  “I’ve had a revelation, and I must discuss it with your family. Your father is waiting in the grand chamber. You may go.”

  Nux and Bellum stood and turned away, heeding the pope’s words. They walked out of the courtyard and started for the main estate. When they were far from the pope and Arden, Bellum spoke.

  “Prince Nux, are you sure about using him?”

  Nux scowled and shook his head.

  “No. It’s dangerous. He is an anomaly, and my instincts are telling me that he and the arrival of Father Aldren are connected.”

  “What do you think he is?”

  “I don’t know. I haven't seen anything like this before. But that is why we have to keep him by our side. We have to keep him in check. That babble earlier was crazy, but it was calculated. He knew we could kill him, but he knew that we wouldn’t. Not if we wanted to know what he was.”

  “They say there is very little difference between a madman and a genius,” Podren nodded.

  “Indeed. After this meeting, I want you to look into what's happened with him over the past few days. Leave no stone unturned.”

  “By your command.”

  Nux turned around and looked back the way he came. He hoped that the Helios Saint would be able to find out something.