Note: Please note that at this time Yeager is 23. I will be updating his age as we go along.
His eyes opened, hazy and blurred from lack of use. He sat up quickly, panicked as he looked around the room his body breaking out in a cold sweat as the worry sat in- his lungs working harder than normal simply to push the life back into his once corpse of a form. What happened?
He was sure he died.
Died in that place that was called a battleground but could really only be described as hell.
So how was he…alive? He could feel it all everything…he was alive… but…his heart?
A shaky hand touched his chest lightly as the realization dawned on him. He could feel all of what it meant to be alive except the beating of his heart. Why was that?
The cold feeling of metal and stone slid beneath his finger tips and he felt himself pause…brown flashed wide as they looked down at the sight of red wrapped in gold.
The sound of his name was firm and cold. It was a a sound that cut through his brain as his body came back to full function and brought himself fully back into the land of life once more.
His vision cleared and looked about the form of darkness that made up the room he was in, only to rest upon deep crimson and precicing white. Why did the sight of that man freeze him solid? What was about this man’s presence that told him the worst was about to come?
"C-Commandant?” his voice was a small shaken sliver of a child frightened of the sight before him.
Those eyes locked on him, and he felt himself trapped in his commander’s gaze. He knew it was coming - the order that would make his blood run cold and his body shiver.
“I trust you realize what it is that rests in your chest."
He knew. He knew all to well what the red stone wrapped in the frame of gold was. A Blastia. His Blastia. His Heart.
"Ja, Milord. I do.” His eyes were downcast, avoiding the ever judging presense of the man before him. Did he remember? Did the Commandant remember all that he had done within the mountains that was now only to be known as ‘The Great War’?
There was a long silence between them, and slowly - ever so slowly he brought his head up to see that the face the man he once held in such high esteem was so - changed. He was different, colder, harsher - everything about him felt … frigid. Everything about him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end with the anticaption of what was to come.
“So don’t waste what I have given you, Yeager. There is much I need you to do. Much that we need to change. ”
There was a shudder that ran up his spine at the sound of the words. Something sinister about them made his stomach turn at the ideas of what the Commandant could possibly mean by that word - 'change’, and he was sure he would know all too soon.
It took a few moments of rest before the man felt the strength to stand rush through him, and soon enough he was on his feet before his 'leader’.
“Come Yeager.” he spoke in an overly prideful tone, as he moved to lead the young knight out of the room.
He could only bow, and follow his commanding officer.