As pain filled Mortimer's mind, it occurred to him that his body was whole.

With all the energy that was being used to keep him alive for millennia, him being murdered would have caused all that energy to escape violently, destroying his body and the place he called home at the time. The fact that he could feel the cold and the dull phantom ache of a blade in his side told him that somehow his body had been remade. Maybe someone brought him back to place judgement on him for his "crimes."

Mortimer opened his eyes and sat up. There were others just waking up as well except for one. A woman with a shock of red hair and a sword he couldn't- wouldn't forget. The sword's likeness was emblazoned on the shields and tabards of the paladins of old, just like the one that gave him his second chance. He would have to see if he had anything in his journal about her or the paladins.

His eyes lit up as he watched the interaction between the man in white robes and the woman. A small spark of memory flared to life and quietly died. When the man asked the group about what happened to his people after he had died, Mortimer pulled himself to his feet and retrieved a small, palm sized notebook out his pocket.

[i]Entei Bahara[/i]

He directed his thoughts to the book. The cover of the book pulsed gently with a white glow. He opened the book to find all the notes he had on the place. One note caught his eye. 

[u][i]'The Tragedy of Entei Bahara'[/i][/u]

"Oh, it's been a long time since I've seen that play. I love tragedies." Mortimer said aloud to himself. Then he remembered where he was, and looked up at the robed man, and found an older man standing next to the man and holding out a jacket to him. 

"I have a lot of notes on the empire," Mortimer said as he waved his journal at the man in the robes. "Spanning millennia, when did you die? Better yet, can I get your name? It might have been of note." He asked the robed man.

It was then that he noticed the dead village around him lacking the souls of the dead. Not a single spirit that he could see lingered around. It was almost as if they'd moved on, but with the marks of what happened, there had to have been at least one or two spirits locked in the memories of their deaths, but there weren't.

Mortimer shivered, but not from the chill in the air.