Alexios got out without a beating, so it was good with him, but still...there was something off about the general to him. What was it that the book said? but the impious soldiers- No! It couldn’t be.
“Alexios! Maymyth to Alexios? Wake up from your thoughts!”
Alexios looked up, seeing the old man from earlier. Was he a telepath?
“How do you know my name?” Alexios asked in a voice full of awe.
“Your *cough* nametag,” the old man said pointing, through a squeaky, ancient voice.
The old man sat down next to Alexios outside the door of the room he was in earlier.
“I sense great food in you,” The old man said, his voice growing stronger.
“That makes no sense sir. Are you insane? Here, let me help you,” Alexios said while taking the old man’s arm.
“Bah! Let go of me child, I am sane enough. Food-- you will need that to tempt the sands of fate. They are always hungry, those sands. I am your cliched mentor,” the old man said, taking his arm away.
“I don’t understand. What’s a cliche? Never mind that, who are you?”
“Perhaps the better question is WHO ARE YOU?! Eh, eh? Did you get it? Bah! I…” the old man sat up and stared at Alexios, “...am the Proofit.”
“You mean PROPHET?” Alexios asked.
The Proofit laughed and shook his head.
“Go to the sewers- see what is there, priest. SEE! WHAT! IS! THERE!”
The old man threw a smoke bomb and ran away.