Chapter 1: Prologue

Elizabeth sat on the hilltop, and drew her shawl closer to her. Miles of desolate land lay before her. No villages, no farms, no cultivation. Forbidden by decree for anyone to venture beyond.

Still.

Something out there tugged at her inexplicably, deep inside. Elizabeth felt that she had been there, somehow. The Visions, as she had named it, though it was nothing more than fragments from an oft repeated dreamed. Crystal clear water, gurgling past a river bank. A bouquet of purple flowers glistening in the sun. Laughter – not her own, but deep and beautiful.

Elizabeth drew her shawl even closer, as she felt the icy fog come down on her, almost as punishment for her dreams. How could she explain it? She had never shared any of this, even with her beloved sister Jane.

The fog was never there in the Visions, even though that was impossible. The fog was everywhere. They had been born into it, and it would be there long after they had died, just like the ogres. The ogres hid in the fog, but Elizabeth had never really been afraid of them. For one, you could hear ogres before they appeared before you. And with the life they led, there were bigger things to worry about; a decent harvest, a glimmer of sunshine to help the crops grow, the endless need for firewood given the perennial lack of sun.

Besides, ogres didn't bother you unless you went looking for trouble, and Elizabeth was always careful. She bit her lower lip unconsciously. She did try to be careful, that was true. But Elizabeth also felt somehow protected, another impossibility without explanation. With her right hand, she reached into her pocket and gripped the little piece of metal. Even though she knew herself to be alone, Elizabeth still looked around furtively before she took the small metal token out of her pocket – another secret she kept from Jane. It was old, older than her, perhaps older than the whole village. Small, engraved letters from a language unknown. A family crest so small that Elizabeth could barely make out the details. But instinctively, she knew that this token held some power. She knew that it protected her…she had seen it in a Vision. It was gleaming silver then, in the palm of her hand. There was a voice, and again laughter, except this time it was hers. Sun rays were dancing off the metal. The mere thought of the Vision made her feel warmer.

Elizabeth kissed it, and carefully placed it back in her pocket.

Where had it come from? Why was she so comforted by it?

Elizabeth sighed, and laid down on the earth, not caring if her coat would get dirt on it. Questions, questions, questions, with no answers. And how could there be answers, when no one remembered anything, ever? People knew each others names, to be sure, they knew which house they lived in, and what clothes to wear. But everything was so fuzzy.

A few days ago, Elizabeth had remembered the incident about Charlotte's little cousin John. John was maybe 6 or 7 years old. He was known to get into trouble, and for always doing things he wasn't supposed. Well, a few days ago – Elizabeth had already forgotten how many days ago it was – Charlotte had told her that John was missing, and she was afraid that he had been taken away by an ogre. Soon, most of the village was looking for John. Then, a fight had broken up between Mr. Hunt and the old widow Jones about firewood. Suddenly, everyone was talking about firewood and intervening in the fight. Elizabeth had asked about John, only to brushed off by numerous villagers, all of whom just repeated that John must be somewhere.

Well, John had been found only that morning, wandering into the village, caked in mud, cold, shivering, and with a fever. John had no idea where he had been; all he remembered was waking up under a tree. None of the villagers remembered that John had been missing for several days, not even Charlotte. It was obvious that John had not been taken by an ogre, because ogres never returned humans, especially children. But no one seemed to remember or care about John having been missing for days at all.

Elizabeth didn't understand. How could it be that only she remembered? Or had she imagined John being missing? Everything was like this. No one remembered anything, and she had snatches and fragments of people and events in her mind that made Elizabeth question her own sanity.

"Elizabeth! There you are! I wonder that you found a spot like this for yourself," said Jane, coming through a small thicket to the right. Elizabeth sat up, momentarily confused. She was sure that Jane had come upon her in this spot many times before. She shook her head slightly. It was just one of those things that never made sense, She smiled at her sister, whom Elizabeth believed to be the gentlest, kindest, and most beautiful person in the whole kingdom.

"Jane, were you picking vegetables?" Elizabeth asked, motion to the basket Jane held.

Jane's cheerful expression fell, and she sat down beside Elizabeth. "There was an old woman…they said she was a demon, and to stay away. But…oh Lizzy, she was so old and frail and I felt so bad for her! I don't think she was a demon at all! She spoke Saxon…she must have wandered away from one of the Saxon villages. I put together a small basket of food and took it to her. I'm afraid Lydia and Kitty will be very unhappy when they find out that we will have to do with much less tonight."

Elizabeth waved her hand at the mention of her two younger sisters. Frequently lazy and never doing what they were told, Elizabeth rarely had patience for them. "Never mind Lydia and Kitty. Did you speak to the Saxon woman?" Their family being traders, all of them spoke Saxon, aside from Brittonic. Elizabeth and Jane had taken part in short trading trips to a nearby village where many people spoke only Saxon; their ability to speak Saxon was held in high regard.

Jane nodded.

"What did she say?"

Jane looked unhappy. "That's just it, Lizzy. I know that we spoke. She must have eaten because the basket is empty. I am not afraid…maybe she blessed me? I do believe that she thanked me. But I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

Elizabeth looked hard at Jane. "Dearest Jane, tell me the truth. Where did you go to find this Saxon woman?"

Jane looked down at her hands. "I…they spotted her in the fields. I was helping Uncle Gardiner clean the bell tower, so I was up in the tower, and that's where I saw her. By the time I had packed the basket, she had moved beyond…Lizzy, she was just outside the Great Plain!"

Elizabeth gasped. They were strictly forbidden to go beyond the Great Plain, the desolate land that marked the perimeter of the Great Beyond. "Oh my goodness Jane! Are you all right? It must have taken you hours to walk there and back! Oh, my dearest Jane!"

Jane nodded. "It did take me a long time. But…I had to. She was so old and frail. It would have been cruel to leave her like that. Oh, I also gave her one of mother's old blankets."

Elizabeth shrugged. Their mother had long since passed, and Elizabeth had no memory of her.

"Lizzy," Jane said, taking Elizabeth's hands. "I feel…I think there was sunlight there, and no fog like this. Or maybe less fog? Lizzy, why do you think I can't remember? I also don't John being lost, even though you insisted this morning that he had been."

"Jane…I don't know, but I was just asking myself the same question. Why is it that we don't remember anything?"

"Darcy, are you sure about doing this?"

"Charles, do you harbour any doubts? Any fears?" Fitzwilliam Darcy looked intently at his friend and comrade, Charles Bingley.

"I fear for you, my friend."

"Charles, I have been commanded by our King."

"You were asked. His Majesty would have understood if you had refused. Darcy, I will go, but you have your own personal mission to attend to."

"Charles, I am a Saxon warrior just like you. I will not refuse a commandment of the King, to help protect our people." Darcy inspected his sword, which had been handed down to him by his father. "He conquers by fortitude," Darcy said, reading the inscription.

"You're lucky to be able to read Ingvaeonic," Charles mused.

"It's the language of our ancestors, we should all make an attempt to at least learn," Darcy said pointedly. "I have offered to teach you."

"Well, now is not the time. We are under command of our King," Charles replied. "Darcy – Fitzwilliam, are you sure?"

Darcy nodded resolutely. "The King has commanded us to find Querig. And if, perchance, I were to run into Wickham along the way, His Majesty has handed me a Royal Decree to do as I see fit. As we both know, it is highly likely that we will find Wickham on the road to Querig," Darcy said, lightly patting the Royal Scroll that was on the table.

Charles nodded in understanding. "In that case, I will follow your command on both quests."

"I am grateful, Charles."

There was a public quest, and a personal mission, Darcy thought. But there was also a private promise.

It had been several years, but he had never forgotten.

A/N: This is a Pride and Prejudice fic, transposed to the incredible, amazing world of Kazuo Ishiguro's "The Buried Giant". The characters are all P&P, and the plot is a mix of both, but the primary and predominate setting is that of 'The Buried Giant'. There's no place on this site to give credit to "The Buried Giant", from where the entirety of plot & setting is taken.