Chapter One - The Rudest of Awakenings

The Sardipan Savant Viggo Helmsman woke up with a start, smacking his head on the stone ceiling.

"What the hell..." he rasped, rubbing his forehead. He was surrounded by darkness, lying on a cold, flat surface. His voice didn't echo, suggesting he was in a relatively small space. "Where am I?"

He felt around the chamber. It was a small space, not even big enough to be considered a room, that seemed to be made of marble. Whatever it was, it was flat and cool. There didn't seem to be a way out.

"Dammit, don't they know I won't be able to breathe in..." The Savant's sentence trailed off as he realized this was already the case.

"Strange." he said, feeling around his wrist. "Hm, no pulse, either. How odd."

The Savant had primarily concerned himself with machines for most of his life. His medical knowledge was limited at best, but he thought there had to be something wrong with his pulse and breathing not being present. He quickly reasoned that it must not be lethal, since he was still moving and thinking. He assumed they would eventually resume on there own.

He realized that, to the casual observer, he would appear quite dead until he started moving. Only then did he realize what must have happened while he was unconscious.

"Damn, they buried me." he said. "Well, I guess there's nothing for it."

With that, he pushed the marble slab above his head. He hadn't expected any results, and was understandably surprised when it cracked open and lifted upwards. Something dry and foul-smelling filtered down onto his face. When he heard what sounded like bits of polished wood clattering down the makeshift ramp, he replaced the slab.

"Damn, that's right...coffins are wood. This must be a crypt." Helmsman braced his hands against the wall behind his head and kicked the opposite panel, beneath his feet. It came off and slammed to the floor. In the silence of the mausoleum, the sound was deafening.

"Oops." said Helmsman, sliding out of the opening and stepping into the moonlight beyond. He was most definitely in a mausoleum of some sort. It was then that he noticed the smell. He sniffed the air hard, trying to find its source. Finally, he identified it as his own skin.

"That smells like...embalming fluid...but...that can't be right." Helmsman stood and scratched his chin. If he was dead, he wouldn't be moving around. But he knew that embalming was fairly invasive and probably wasn't survivable. He was willing to dismiss the lack of pulse and breath, but he was fairly certain that he couldn't have slept through being embalmed.

Just then a pair of men with halberds appeared at the door to the mausoleum. They surveyed the scene and promptly ran screaming from the door.

"Well, what the--" Helmsman looked down at his own body. "Oh, I see now."

Someone had dressed him up in an ornate dress uniform. He felt almost naked without his leather lab coat and its myriad tools. Like many Sardipans, Helmsman was a practical man; he'd never liked stuffy formal attire, and now was no exception. At least whoever had dressed him had had the decency to give him an overcoat, but it wasn't his usual one. He checked the pockets...there it was. The scarf his wife, Agnes, had given him before he left was tucked into his inner coat pocket. He was glad to find the momento had been left with him. He tied it around his neck and strode out of the mausoleum.

Picking his way through the tombstones, Helmsman saw the Old Imperial style buildings beyond the graveyard and knew he must still be in Geon, the capital city of the Broken Kingdom of Bellaraphon. At the cemetery gate, he saw a cart that bore the insignia of Helmsman's Chimaera Laboratory.

"Ah, good. Now I can find out what's going on here."

As he approached the cart, the pair of horses grew noticeably distressed. The man seated behind them tried to calm them, but they were inconsolable.

"Hello!" called Helmsman. "It's me, the Savant! Which of you is out there?"

The coachman's attention was suddenly focused on Helmsman. His face was frozen in disbeleif.

"Ah, Troy, it's you." said Helmsman, smiling warmly. "What's wrong with the horses?"

"S-s-s-savant?" stuttered the coachman.

"Of course, boy, it's me!" Helmsman looked down at his attire, then turned back to Troy. "I know this getup is unusual, but it's me, I swear. I'm not quite sure what's going on, to tell you the truth."

Helmsman reached the cart. The horses seemed nearly ready to panic.

"It--it is you." said Troy. He looked to be about seventeen, with dark eyes and thick, black hair. "I--I can't believe it!"

"Believe it. I'm here, and I'm very confused as to what is going on."

"Savant...I'm not sure how you can not know this but...you're dead."

The Savant thought for a moment. "No, that can't be. I'm still walking and talking, aren't I?"

Troy gulped. "Savant, this morning we were leaving Geon, when a man shot you through the heart with a crossbow. You...you were dead before you hit the ground."

Helmsman stood, dumbfounded. He remembered seeing the gates to the city opening...

"We had you mummified after you went cold, so you'd be in presentable condition for a public funeral back in Ulgotha, then Rainsford had you interred in there for safe keeping. We were going to leave tomorrow. I...I was supposed to keep watch over the cemetery so that nobody tried to do anything to your body."

Helmsman felt inside his shirt. Sure enough, there was a hole in his chest, stopped up with wax. Feeling behind him, he could feel it coming out the other side.

"Well, I'll be damned." he said. "I am dead!"