"A toilet," Jor whispered aloud, awed. Tears freely fell down his cheeks. His eyes then found the sink and the tap. Plumbing. The idea of plumbing seemed alien to a primitive people living in tree houses. Where was all the water coming from? Were there pipes installed inside the tree, flowing down like some great network, to connect it to a lake? Whatever it was, it was progressing as far as he was concerned. A civilization of nearly a million people had to bring something to the table.

"Yes, some artificers and engineers figured out a way to connect it to a lake a few miles from here," The healer, Silanna, commented. She was a red-headed elf of statuesque beauty. "It was some fifty years ago, and already it has led to fewer diseases and illness we've had to treat."

"Is it connected to the entire city?"

"Oh yes, very much so," Silanna giggled. Her smile widened, showing pearly teeth behind those rose-red lips.

Jor's heart went aflutter.

She walked up to the toilet and flushed it. The water swirling around and around as it got sucked through the pipes until it became crystal clear water once again. "And the best part is? All of it, once flushed, goes to an entirely different floor."

Jor raised a brow in surprise. "An entire floor as the city's own personal trash heap. I'd like to say I didn't see that coming, but it's only sensible."

"Oh yes, very."

Silanna led him out of the washroom and into the hospital. Dozens of healers were about, going through their motions. The hospital itself was a remarkably clean environment, though slightly bland. The environment was looked after by the sorceries that maintained this place by the uses of prestidigitation spells, as explained by the healer.

There weren't any patients here, as far as he could tell. A few young looking trainees were being taught, with holographic runes and glyphs dancing in the air. The anatomy of various species being shown and tagged in various details.

"Seems a little... empty, for a hospital, no?" He sat down on a bed, just like the dozens lined up by the creamy white walls. The bed was soft, and the sheets were silky.

"This is only reserved for the royal family, but since there are only two members of the family...," Silanna shrugged, then she started to inspect him like any other doctor he's ever visited. Though, the dancing magical lights were new. "We rotate with the other hospitals so we don't waste our time here,"

"Huh...," Jor hummed as he stayed still, watching the lights enter through his skin and out the other. It took another fifteen minutes before she came to a stop. He was releaved when the poking and prodding stopped altogether.

"Well, we're done," Silanna nodded to herself. "There's nothing that seems to be a problem, though you would have to eat more. Besides that, you're a pretty healthy human,"

"Speaking of human, is that what your king is? Human, I mean," Jor took his chance. It seemed like the best time to come up with the question. The king didn't have pointed ears.

"You're partly right. He's half-elven," Silanna gestured him to follow, and soon he was dogging her steps down the hall. "His father was the elven king, while his mother was the daughter of a government official,"

He had a lot more questions about that.

Eventually, she led him toward a waiting area. A simple room, with chairs and sofas to sit on when waiting for family or friends. A coffee table sat in the middle, where a few hardcovered books lay. For a hospital that belonged to the royal family, it was incredibly spartan and uninspiring. And there, sitting on one of the couches, seemingly having fallen asleep, was the same orc that probably had no qualms about chopping his head off.

"The king's aide will be here shortly, so you can wait here," Silanna nodded respectfully. "It was nice meeting you, Jor. Have a pleasant day."

Then, she was gone.

Jor turned to face the sleeping orc, undecided whether he should let him sleep or kick him awake. He sat on the sofa instead, then picked up a book. It was a collection of children's tales printed in an actual paper, not parchment. As he read further, it seemed like the writer wanted to collect tales and myths from the many races of people and cultures brought together.

"So you're the mysterious boy that's been on everyone's lips," Startled, Jor looked up from the book. A lion man, wearing rich flowing robes of red and blue, with a large silver medallion hanging around his neck. He was larger than even the sleeping orc. "Come along now, we've got a lot to talk about,"

Jor barely got to his feet before the man (lion-man?) left through the door. He quickly ran to catch up with him.

"My name is Hagan Charmenjo, the aide to the king. You'll address me as Mr. Charmenjor, or sir, if you will," They walked quickly, as he listed out his future responsibilities. "You'll be expected to wake before five in the morning,"

Jor didn't mind. He was a light sleeper, and the floor he had been living in had hardened him for the possible encounters while he slept. It happened twice, despite all his precautions.

"You'll be provided clothing to fit your size. Specialized chefs will be providing you with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Your diet will be strictly regulated. You so much as lick a sweet, I'll have you flogged," Jor gulped. "You'll be attended to by an aide of your own. Of course, just because you have one of your own, does not mean you can order him about. He's there to order you in my stead. He's my voice and my hands. You so much as step out of bounds, I will know about it. The consequences will not be pleasant."

The low predatorial growl was enough of a threat.

Those blue eyes barely glanced down at him, before looking ahead. Jor wondered, just for a second, whether he should just leave. The thought of escaping this floor was utterly impossible, he realized. He didn't even have any clue how to go about doing that. The way they came here was through a portal. It might take a portal to do the same.

After the winding halls, they stopped in front of a door. Hagan took out a key from the folds of his pocket, unlocked the door and pushed it wide open.

He stared.

It was a broom closet. Jor had a bigger space in a cave. It had a small bed barely his size, and the materials were barely fit for a beggar. Jor resisted a sigh.

"The king has seen fit to take over the responsibility of taking in an apprentice, and the responsibilities of maintaining a kingdom now fall upon me," Hagan clasped his hands behind him, looking down on him with contempt. "You are the first, and only apprentice to the king himself. You are... a surprise. The preserver himself vouched for you,"

"Preserver?" Jor spoke for the first time.

"Lord Ashton, of course," Hagan had that hero worship look to his eyes. "He's been our guardian since the inception of our country. He's the hero with far too many titles and far too many accomplishments. Frankly, I have no idea what he sees in you,"

Jor would have protested if he had the energy for it.

"Is that all, sir?" The cold biting tone of his voice surprised even him. Hagan quieted, giving him that intimidating stare again.

"You are free for today. There's a pouch of monies you can spend on for today in the market," Hagan sneered, his teeth sharp as any predator. "Be grateful. Enjoy yourself, for today, is the last day of your freedom. Tomorrow, you shall start a new day of your new life,"

Hagan then pivoted, then stalked out of his sight. Jor sighed. He stepped into his room and locked the door behind him. It was smaller than he expected. It didn't even have a closet, and he suspected it really was a broom closet. The pouch was there, with golden coins by the dozens. At least fifty of them.

A small device sat on a small nightstand. It told the time, with some sort of crystal to power it with magic. It was six o'clock. Soon, the day's about to be over, and he'll wake up to a nightmare.

He fell on top of the bed, groaning in the sheer pleasure of having something soft to sleep on. Oh sure, it was itchy and irritating, but it was a bed. An actual bed. One that he had longed for in the long months of surviving in the dark.

Who was he kidding? Jor was happy. He was just happy that he was back in a civilization. There's plumbing, people, and a roof over his head. He's also apprenticed under a king. Granted, he's an arse of epic proportions, and his aide seemed to follow that trend. Still, not anyone here could say that they've been taken under the tutelage of the king himself.

Which brought to question, just exactly what was the Sun class, and how does one go about getting a class? Could he choose some other class? It wasn't as if he even wanted it in the first place. He was a fighter, not some spell flinging mage. Although, the idea of flinging fireballs seemed kind of useful.

Jor was going to need a list of questions to ask before the week's over. Hopefully, the answers are forthcoming. This dungeon certainly wasn't going to provide any, and he doubted neither was the king's aide. Hopefully, his own secretary might help him out. He wondered who his secretary would be. Would he or she be a lion person? Or, would he be an orc or a gruff dwarf with a stiff personality? A human, maybe? Or one of those winged people.

How does a winged person walk through a door, anyway? Must be mighty inconvenient for them. They must have special accommodations for all the things they needed to access. The government must be doing well, then. Still, the poor bird people.

Fatigue caught up to him, as Jor slowly closed his eyes.

He fell. There, in the darkness, he saw it. The bird on fire. The Phoenix: The kings of the fire and wind. Its feathers were a volcanic red, with a tinge of black and gold. Its large eyes, piercing gold and glowing like stars, glared down upon him as a mighty god.

Then, it raised its head and the Phoenix screamed.

Its piercing cry went up, shattering the darkness. Flames came upon him like a firestorm, its heat unbearable. It fire seemed to encompass everything, the very world seemed to be swallowed up in a tide of its power and might. It felt like a natural force of nature, powered by the supernatural divinity from the heavens.

The flames came. The fires enveloped him, burning him. It burnt away his skin. The flames seeped into his veins and enraptured his bones. It crawled further, into his soul and spirit. She was angry. So very angry. But, so was he. And he shared that anger, a duel synchronization between two souls.

When Jor woke up, he was sweating profusely. His breath was shallow, and his throat hurt.

The knock on the door startled him to full wakefullness.

Jor glanced at the time and groaned. He must have slept for the entire day and night. It was four in the morning, and no doubt his new aide was not going away. The knocking only continued to insistently knock away, like an irritating fly.

Still, he got up, ready to face a new day in his new life.

Jörmungandr Shesha

Level 2 - +2

Class - N/A Strength - 9 - 35% Endurance - 15 - 45% Intelligence - 9 - 32%

Willpower - 26 - 5% Vitality - 30 - --% +1 Racial Trait - The Heart of the Phoenix