Alexander's eyes widened. (Wasn't he the protagonist, dear author… Ah… Metaphysics…)
"Chosen one?"
"Oh yes… The Chosen One! The one who would come to save the nameless people of the Greek-Land; well… You know… Like those stories from the good mythology of our old world… But he is different… This one… Well… Uh…"
He paused and concluded, "Well, I'll explain it better at my house…"
The old man stood up and reached into the right pocket of his vest for something, but was interrupted by Alexander's voice.
"Before… What's your name, good sir?"
The old man smiled kindly.
"Kápoios… Or in the old English of distant lands: Someone… Well, just call me sir, of course…"
Alexander frowned, a bit confused, and just nodded.
Mr. Someone took a small red grain from the right pocket of his vest, opened Evandro's mouth, and "dropped" it inside.
Mr. Kápoios began to count cheerfully, "1… 2… 3!"
Evandro's eyes opened, and suddenly he awoke gasping like someone who had been running.
"W—wh—what's happe—ning.." he said in a shaky voice.
"1… 2… 3!" the old man counted again.
Evandro abruptly jumped up from the ground in a surprisingly "impossible" leap.
"What happened to me?!"
His voice was electric, like someone under the intense effect of caffeine.
Old Kápoios smiled again and comforted the young man: "Well… Come now, and everything shall be explained, Mr. Evandro and Mr. Alexander."
The two flinched: they had never said their names. However, they didn't feel it was their place to say anything and simply nodded and followed him.
They were slightly relieved to finally be walking on some truly soft grass that didn't cause any discomfort to their feet.
Mr. Someone opened the raw, lightly sanded kastanós-common wooden door.
There, as usual in the kingdom, it was always a one-room house. Near the entrance, there was a rectangular table of raw, lightly sanded mahogany, with chairs of the same material. Further in, on the right-hand wall, a gray stone fireplace with black-painted details between the stone gaps. In the middle, there were two beds, and at the end of the room, a door in the right corner of the back wall, made of the same material as the front door.
"Well! What are you doing standing there?! Come in quickly… The rain is coming and won't take long to reach us."
They entered, and Mr. Kápoios motioned for them to sit in the chairs on the left side; of course, they gladly accepted, though somewhat disconcerted by the low height of the chairs.
Mr. Kápoios then went to the back door, entered a dimly lit basement with torches, and clumsily shut the door, disappearing down the stairs.
Alexander frowned. "I could've sworn that door led to a porch…"
Evandro ignored it and just tried to focus on the warmth of the beautiful and cozy fireplace, which, in his thoughts, greatly beautified the space.
…
Pa!
Mr. Kápoios appeared suddenly, humming softly.
"Here is my beloved—" He paused for a few seconds.
"Well! Huh?! Ah yes… Wait a bit… I forgot I was going to get something for us to eat…"
And he left, muttering to himself almost inaudible words about old age.
…
Gradually, the sound of footsteps on the stairs grew louder.
Evandro woke Alexander, who was already sleeping and almost drooling on the table.
The old man laughed when he saw them… He appeared at the door with a stack of square food wrapped in leaves in his left hand, and in the other, holding three jugs between his fingers and a large, square, smooth, polished mahogany bowl with a lid, held by its handle in his mouth.
The scene was funny for both Alexander and Evandro, but they held back their laughter out of respect for the man…
When the old man got closer to them, Alexander couldn't help but let out a discreet chuckle.
The old man stopped near the table and shouted, "Well! What are you doing?! Help me here!"
They quickly got up and started taking the items and placing them on the table in an organized manner.
The old man sat on the chair at the head of the table to look as closely as possible at the two bold travelers.
Mr. Kápoios cleared his throat and suddenly got serious. "Well… Very good…"
He paused for a few moments and looked at their faces. "Well! What are you doing?!! Eat! Well… That's not going to take your attention away from what I have to say…"
The two, quickly, looking like fools, hurried and began unwrapping the breads from the leaves, grabbing the white fresh cheese, and the cake from the mahogany bowl.
The old man took a deep breath like a smoker and continued. "Well… Listen, Evandro… You are the chosen one of the prophecy."
Evandro started laughing. "Me? Chosen!? Terrible joke, old man…"
"What's this?! You doubt me?" The old man slammed his small, chubby hand on the table, making it shake slightly.
"Well… It is written in the annals of the history not only of our kingdom but of the world. You, Evandro, are a boy without father or mother, who lived with your uncle and learned all he could from him.
"Older and living alone in some village, you found the young Alexander lost and embraced his crusade to finally, well, have a purpose in life."
Evandro and Alexander shuddered and asked in unison, "How do you know all that, old man?!"
He smiled gently and ran his hand over his thin white hair like his beard.
"Well then… The prophecy, of course… Almost all of this was described to happen. The stories passed down orally through generations were not lost; well, they had definitely not been lost; many treated it as esoteric from a public point of view, but it was always widely spread.
"Well… The great difference I found here was that not everything happened as it was written."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Alexander, stunned, taking the words from Evandro's mouth.
"Well… It's just that I had to use logic to deduce Alexander's arrival, because the truth is there's nothing about him in the story… Well… You, Alexander, were not something that I or anyone who knows the story of the prophecy expected. After all, who are you?