Mortal Realm

Fringes of the Brooding Dark Forest

With practiced ease, Atlas snapped open his eyes. Turbidity gave way to clarity which was soon replaced by the light of intelligence.

Staring directly at the poorly constructed wooden excuse of a ceiling, Atlas thought to himself.

‘I can’t breathe.’

It was not a matter of NOT being able to, but a matter of ease. Atlas could not breathe with his usual ease.

Moving his gaze away from the ceiling, he set out to find the source of his discomfort. His line of sight quickly landed on the space above his chest and discovered the source.

An egg-shaped head, large, bulbous ears, and excessively fatty skin that seeped with oil. It seemed that an enormous pig was resting its head atop his chest, weighing heavily on the malnourished boy.

“Hafufufu…rest easy, my liege…I shall…protect you…,” the pig muttered in its sleep.

‘Oh, it’s a person,’ Atlas belatedly corrected himself. Still, he wasn’t exactly wrong in his assumption either. This person resembled a pig more than an actual human.

Oh well, human or beast, the matter of his discomfort remained to be solved. Fortunately, Atlas wasn’t one to discriminate. He simply disliked everyone equally.

Raising his freed right hand which surprisingly wasn’t chained or bound, Atlas tapped on the piggish man’s bald head.

“Hello? Wake up, humpty dumpty. I’m being crushed under your weight here.”

The natural oils produced from the man’s walrus-like skin were unnaturally viscous and sticky. Atlas had to suppress his disgust and wipe his hands against the white sheets of his bed.

Fortunately, his adhesive endeavor wasn’t without results as the man showed signs of awakening.

“W-ho? M-me?...”

“Of course, it’s you! MOVE ASIDE, MAN!!”

As the final bits of air left his lungs, Atlas lost his patience and slapped the man’s head alongside a scream.

The actions bore results as the man jerked up with a sudden startle causing the wooden stool he was sitting on to give way. Losing his seat, the man fell to the ground.

“Ouch!” A man gave out a pained cry as he rubbed his bum.

Atlas could not care in the least about the man’s pains as he was busily relieving the pain upon his chest. However, a coughing fit followed by long, deep breaths seemed to do the trick as the pain lessened and his breathing eased.

Having recovered his right to breathe air after a long last, he turned his gaze towards the man fallen by his bedside.

“And who are you?” he asked.

Hearing Atlas’ voice drew the portly man’s attention to the youth. His large eyes, which once again reminded Atlas of eggs for some reason, widened to the size of actual eggs and were filled with astonishment.

“Yo-you–!”

The man suddenly moved with speeds unexpected of his portly body and crashed onto Atlas.

Feeling for the first time what being stuck by a boulder feels like, the air within Atlas’ lungs was forced out once again. Before the young protagonist could mount a resistance he was restrained by the man’s bear-like hug.

“MY LIEGE!! You have finally awoken!!” The man cried. And it was not any simple cry, no…the man full-out bawled while entrapping Atlas with the tightest hug that the latter had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

‘So this is how I die. Not by the wiles of a worthy foe, but by the hands of a hog-shaped human.’

Atlas thought to himself in resignation.

Feeling the final remnants of air leave his lungs, Atlas was claimed by darkness.

Again.

‘This is getting old now.’

---

“My liege! I pray that you can forgive your clumsy servant! I-I did not intend to asphyxiate you!”

The portly man with an egg-shaped egg kneeled beside Atlas’ bedside and profusely apologized. His face shimmered against the dim light of the room’s oil lantern, owing to a mixture of sweat and oil.

His eyelids were half-closed and his pupils were shifty, however, with his experience in dealing with people Atlas knew that apologies were sincere in nature.

If anything, the man seemed to be profoundly used to apologizing.

“You have yet to answer my question. Who are you?” Atlas asked, his throat dry and hoarse. As for the matter of the accidental asphyxiation, it is best that some matters be left alone.

Perhaps, sensing the subtlety behind his liege’s words, the portly man quickly stopped apologizing and answered his demands.

“It is natural that my liege does not know about this lowly one. After all, we have not directly met and have only sighted each other from a distance a few times.” Kneeling with only one of his knees, the portly man put his right fist against his left breast and answered.

“This one is surnamed Helm. Georg Helm is my full name, my liege. I’m a lowly Baron of the illustrious Constantine kingdom and a retainer of your father.”

He then hung his head in subservience.

“I see…” Atlas rubbed his bandaged chin with his right hand. ‘So, that’s the name of my kingdom; Constantine.’

‘Atlas Constantine does have a nice ring to it.’ Atlas nodded his head with satisfaction. It sure did have a grander, more majestic sound to it when compared to his previous name.

“How did you find me, Baron Helm?”

“About that, my liege,” the Baron’s eyes shifted with increased intensity while his lips stuttered. Seeing the man’s hesitance, Atlas regally demanded.

“Spare me no details, Baron Helm.”

Rest assured, Atlas had no qualms or difficulties assuming his new position. In fact, he greatly enjoyed his station.

“Ye-yes, my liege!” The Baron hurriedly complied and quickly spat out the truth. A truth that made Atlas regret his question.

“A few men of mine foraging in an area beside a small stream found your nude highness escorted by schools of fish. They were greatly surprised to see a young child be nibbled at by dozens of fish, while a particular eel crawled underneath your legs and tried to–”

“Stop it! STOP SPEAKING!!”

Atlas screamed out loud. Alas, the words had already been spoken and the image had formed inside his head.

Owing to his special condition, Atlas was cursed to remember this memory forever. (AN: Some context required here; Atlas has a mental condition called ‘hyperthymesia’. It is a mental ability–or disability however you call it–to accurately recall and never forget their memories. This is one of many mental abilities/disabilities that Atlas possesses.)

“Yes, my liege!” Baron Helm loyally yelled out and promptly shut his mouth. This was the reason he had hesitated answering his liege. The truth was simply, too embarrassing.

Baron Helm still recalled the raucous laughter of his men who had safely recovered the young highness and told him the tale. Much to his chagrin, the Baron himself also found the entire situation, ludicrous and funny.

‘Fortunately, none other than me knew His Highness, the Prince’s true identity. As long as I carry this secret to my grave, none will be wiser about my liege’s loss of honor.’

Baron Georg Helm, while clumsy and incompetent was a fiercely loyal man.

“Nothing happened, do you understand? Baron Helm?” Atlas warned with a low tone.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my liege,” the servant faithfully played his part in this farce.

Satisfied at his servant’s mortal wisdom, Atlas nodded his head. He then remained quiet for a few moments before proceeding to open his mouth.

“I suppose you have some questions for me, Baron Helm? Particularly about how I arrived and where my father and the rest of my family are?”

Indeed. The Baron had been waiting to ask the young prince the same question.

“Could you enlighten me, my liege?”