Chapter 3: ~Waking Dreamer~

Nathan's first day of renewed captivity was uneventful. An armored man came in to feed him some sort of slop half-way through the night, that was all. The second day he just hung there, no food. Starving him a bit seemed to be the plan. By the third day his shoulders began to creak, the pain was killing him. On the fourth day they let his arms rest for an hour. Nathan was very thankful and began to sing for the knight who had cut him some slack. The man promptly hung Nathan back up.

By now he had learned that the slop wasn't just nasty punishment. One of his keepers had told him that it was made to thin him out some. Nathan couldn't help but wonder what sort of food keeps you from starving while burning fat.

On the fifth day he had a visitor.

Nathan deliriously peered at a stoic looking individual. The man certainly had a certain aura about him. After some careful consideration he mumbled, "the king?"

"Alastor to you," answered the king. "How have the accommodations been?"

"Absolutely delightful," Nathan joked. "Great palace you have here, very gothic."

Alastor actually laughed. "You'll have to forgive me for this."

"I won't," Nathan snapped.

"So you're willing to die for my wife..." Alastor began in an amused tone, "but not my people?"

"She was in actual danger," Nathan commented. "Your people are causing their own circumstances to worsen. They don't have assassins breathing down their necks. If the fools want to riot, let them."

"I suppose you're right," Alastor easily agreed. "Still not letting you go. As soon as we announced your execution the masses calmed down. It was almost surreal how easily mutual hatred untied my people. If only you could hear some of the terrible things they want us to do to you." The king absently brushed off his coat. "You should probably thank us for not listening."

"I'd shrug if it wouldn't tear my shoulders out," Nathan scowled. "This is seriously a bitch, no offense."

The king raised a hand. "None taken," he responded. "I appreciate you attempting to save Altea and becoming our martyr. Is there a reasonable last request you would like to make?"

Nathan pondered for a few long moments. "My family — make sure that everybody on Eritrea, our world, knows it was a Dela'marthus who orchestrated the assassination of Queen Altea."

The king went wide-eyed with shock. He hadn't expected this boy to use his final request in such a way. To scorn one's own family. Alastor had predicted that Nathan would ask for his arms to be let loose, or the company of a woman — not this.

"I already intended to do that," he explained. "Not much love for your family I take it?"

"It isn't that I don't love them, that wouldn't be so bad. It wouldn't warrant my malice." Nathan's eyes lit up as he gazed at Alastor. "The problem is that I once loved them, yet they have never loved me. If you can cause any blemish on the family's reputation, their prestige, I humbly implore that you do. Hold no quarter Alastor, mercy — they are undeserving of my mercy."

Alastor scratched his head. "They don't sound like my sort of people. Consider it done, any other requests?"

"You probably won't let me down or give me proper food, will you?"

"All part of the process I'm afraid." Alastor was happy with himself at that point, he was right about what Nathan would ask for. "You'll be starved to skin and bone, then whipped on the 31st. We want you looking properly beaten for the execution."

Nathan cringed. "That sucks."

"I imagine it does," he agreed. "Your request?"

"A hero would only beg that you, the king, do his best to watch over the people he is dying for," Nathan mused. "But trying to be a hero is what got me here in the first place. I'd like you to write a private message for me, two messages."

"Consider it done," the king answered.

After nearly half an hour Alastor returned with a table, parchment, and ink. He didn't carry any of that himself.

"The contents?"

"One for my mother, one for my father," he began in a calm, unwavering tone. "I have deceived you. I'm much more intelligent than I ever let on, and I'd have made a damn brilliant magus. All I ever wanted was a normal family. You kept me imprisoned, hidden for nearly a decade. The best part is that I was never crazy, the demons I spoke of — the things I could sense that got me put in that tower... it was internal mana. You'd think a talented magus like mother would have noticed that I was just gifted. Although my freedom was short-lived, these days I wandered Radison were the happiest of my life. I met a few decent people, laughed like a normal person, and shared a meal with jolly librarians. Every happy experience here only served to further the resentment I feel for you. I hope you suffer. Love, Nathaniel."

Alastor laughed when he finished. "I bet this'll piss them off."

"That is the intended effect," Nathan confirmed. "Thank you Alastor."

The king gave him one last guilty look, then left. Nathan couldn't believe it. The look on the Alastor's face, the way his voice sounded when he thanked Nathan for trying to save the queen... did the king have something to do with her death?

*thwack*

Nathan's teeth began to grind as blood splattered across the wall.

*thwack*

His shoulders popped painfully, he refused to scream.

*thwack*

These days had let him get used to pain, he was numb.

*thwack*

Every lash of the whip only furthered his resolve, he refused to cry out in agony.

*thwack* *thwack* *thwack* *thwack* *thwack*

Nine lashes — it had stopped. Apparently he looked sufficiently bloody by now. Nathan couldn't give a damn, he was delirious and losing consciousness.

*splat splat*

Nathan immediately scowled, he'd awoken with his head and arms stuck in wood. Above his neck, a menacing guillotine. Apparently they put him on display, Nathan had to laugh. He was actually happy to watch the sunset one last time. Tomorrow would be the 1st of Talomir. The day he finally dies. By this point the swift chop of a guillotine was more than welcome. He was tired of pain, and the tomatoes being lobbed at him were quite annoying.

When some people started screaming at him, asking for reasons, Nathan couldn't resist shouting that he was only doing as father and mother told him to. It kind of baffled him how this all turned out. Who would have thought that trying to save a life, the queen's life, would do this to him.

On a brilliant moonlit night he gazed at the stars. Something about this being the last time he'd ever see them was making his eyes watery. How many nights had he spent on top of a tower gazing in their direction. Just as the full moon was halfway through its arc, his vision blurred. Nathan couldn't help but close his eyes.

The scent of freshly baked donuts roused Nathan. Outside — past some iron bars — one rather attractive woman in form-fitting clothes handled a steaming box. His eyes shot open and he jumped out of bed.

"What the hell!?" he shouted, then fell to one knee. "Ouch."

Emma bit into a donut. "What the heck are you doing — are you okay?" she asked, more than a little worried. "You look really gaunt."

Nathan's ribs were a bit tender. He quickly inspected his body. The wounds on his back were gone, his shoulders felt fine, but he still felt hungry and looked half starved. The fact that he was still twenty something pounds lighter was undeniable. Nathan figured this had to be a dream.

"Emma," he said in a resigned tone. "I'm seriously hungry."

"Did I tell you my name?" she asked skeptically.

"You did," Nathan confirmed. Emma pursed her lips and eyed his frame, so he asked, "what?"

"You look weird."

"Oh," he sounded, then removed the cosmetic ring. "Illusionary glyph, pay it no mind."

Emma handed him a powdered donut. As he ate, she asked, "why did you do it?"

Nathan was a bit uncomfortable right now, never had a dream been so vivid.

"Mind shooting me with your gun," he asked while raising a foot suggestively. "The leg will do."

Emma gaped at him and shouted, "no!"

"Spoilsport," he laughed. "I've got very little time left to live and I'd like to be conscious for it. So hurry and do something that'll wake me up."

Emma was seriously confused. "Are you alright?"

"I'm about to be executed for something I didn't do," he answered listlessly. "How could I possibly be alright?"

"..."

"What?"

"You're not about to be executed, and you did light my shirt on fire."

"Yeah," he snickered. "That one was all me. Assassinating the queen wasn't, I was trying to save her after all."

Emma went back to eating her donuts and ignored Nathan.

"Emma," he said in a sly tone.

"Yeah, crazy?" she answered with annoyance.

"Mind taking your clothes off?"

Emma looked at him with a flat expression. "Why in the nine hells would I ever do that?" she asked pointedly.

"Well..." he started, "this is my dying dream. Shouldn't there be something... wonderful?"

Emma laughed, then choked on her apple fritter. After washing it down with coffee, she said, "I'm just gonna take that as a compliment, go back to sleep..." Emma paused, then asked, "what should I call you?"

"Nathan is fine — I've lost the jellyrolls," he answered in a heartbroken voice. His once bountiful midsection had been reduced to a thin slab of flesh.

Emma ignored him. Nathan slowly clambered back into bed. This whole experience felt far too real. He could sense everything. The stiff bed, winter's chill, fresh pastries, Emma's perfume...

He awoke with a gasp. Emma fell out of her chair backwards.

Nathan had to laugh at the glare she shot him from her downed position.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"Pain in the ass," she claimed while returning to her seat. "Nightmare?"

Nathan rubbed the back of his head, he had been sweating. "Yeah, got my head chopped off."

Emma cringed. "Ouch."

A few minutes later they were eating a sandwich. Nathan was thoroughly enjoying it. When they both finished eating he gazed at her with forlorn eyes. Something was very wrong here...

"I might be insane," he jested in an increasingly alarmed voice.

"Ya think?" she said sarcastically.

"Mind hearing me out?" he asked honestly.

"I've still got you for a good six days," she answered. "Go ahead."

"Today is Velanis 2nd, right?"

"Right," she confirmed.

After that Nathan proceeded to spill the rough details of what had happened. When all was said and done, she leveled a steady gaze on him.

"The way I see it you have somewhere to be right now," Emma chuckled nervously. "Radison."

"Why on Eritrea would I go there!?" he nearly shouted. "You heard what I just said."

"Personally..." she started, "I think you're nuts."

"Thanks, I love you too."

Emma ignored him. "One way to know if you're crazy is to go there again. If eleven Telmarian Empire assassins kill Queen Altea..."

"Oh..." Nathan smirked at Emma. "Good point."

Emma quickly opened the cast iron cell. Nathan got up to leave, then stumbled and fell on top of her.

"Sorry," he said apologetically while resisting temptation. "I'm... not feeling so hot right now."

Emma silently helped him to his feet. "It takes about ten hours to get to Radison from here, eight from Gureld. Why don't you go to my grandparents farm and rest up for a few days? In fact, there's no reason to go to the capital. You can regain your strength and just wait for news from Radison."

Nathan smiled absently. "Think I can make it to Gureld like this?"

"I don't think so," she answered honestly. "Maybe if you rested for another day."

"I'd rather not give my bodyguards a chance to show up," he said. "Best to just crawl there if I have to."

Emma gave him a perplexed look and commanded, "wait right here."

Nathan did as told. About twenty minutes later she came back with a burly, tall, black haired man.

"Taler, Nathan..." she introduced, "Nathan, Taler."

The large man bowed. "I'll be taking you to Gureld."

"Thanks," said Nathan. "I guess this is goodbye?"

Emma leaned down next to Nathan's sitting position. "If you do end up back in my cell a month from now... you better not keep trying to get my clothes off," she whispered maliciously.

Nathan gasped. "I would do no such thing..." he began, "I'm a very moral person."

Emma rolled her eyes at him, then signaled Taler. The big guy picked Nathan up and stuck him in a barrel. Nathan laughed as Taler strapped the barrel on and carried him away.

"I have discovered a new mode of transportation!" he shouted with utter sincerity.

"Shut up or I drop you," Taler threatened.

Nathan promptly shut his mouth. This time, instead of a bus, he boarded a train. Gureld happened to be a larger city so the train runs right through its plaza. The only reason that Radison isn't connected to a train station is out of fear. Someone could easily send a train full of powerful enemies right into the capital's heart that way.

Nathan managed to poke his head out of the barrel and admire this train. He always enjoyed experiencing new tech. This long bullet train ran on a combination of steam and ambient mana. He still wasn't sure how they operate without a driver's assistance. One day, he'd have to find out.

Once in a while Nathan would drop his head into the barrel, then spook people who walk by their seats. He was having fun with that until Taler decided it was time to play whack a mole. That hadn't been very pleasant.

Within the hour someone called out that Gureld was in sight. It really had been a short journey. Taler didn't waste anytime getting off and bolting down the main street. It was a bumpy ride to say the least. Nathan would've complained if he thought the man wasn't willing to just leave him there... or better yet, barrel roll him and walk away.

Just as Emma had once told him, about three miles out on the eastern horizon was an incredibly large farm. One big brown barn, an intimidating mansion, various fields, surrounding woods, tall gates, and plenty of livestock. Yup, a farm.

The sun was still rising but two people were already on the fields. Taler flat out ignored the mansion and made his way to them. As they got closer Nathan realized that both were elderly, at least in their sixties. Without saying anything he lowered himself back into the barrel and waited patiently.

"Taler ma' boy," a haggard voice called out. "Haven't seen you in months. How ya' been?"

"Good," he answered. "I've been very good lately."

"Well come on in," the woman said in a friendly manner. "Family always gets a place at the breakfast table."

Taler held up his hand. "Sorry auntie, uncle." Taler bowed apologetically. "I need to get back to work."

Both of them let out a disappointed mumble as he took off the barrel. When Taler placed it on the ground in front of them they weren't sure what to think.

"I assume you're here for a reason nephew," the man said with a rough tone. "What's in the barrel?"

At that moment Nathan slowly poked the top half of his head out and used something he'd learned from Eliza — the watery puppy dog eyes. The two elderly people really weren't sure what to think...

"Emma wants you to help him recover..." Taler started, "the boys been starved. She also said he'd be willing to work on the farm."

The elderly man looked at Nathan and inquired, "not going to a school?"

"Nope," he quickly shot back while popping up and down..

The elderly woman grinned at Nathan. "You'll call me Mistress," she commanded proudly. "My husband is Master, understood?"

Nathan suppressed a laugh while he agreed. Best not to argue terms with his new caretakers.

"Take him to the first floor guest room," said Master.

Taler quickly did as told. Nathan was a bit unnerved when they entered the mansion. It was nothing like what should be on a farm. These people were probably a lot more than farmers back in the day. At least, that's the feeling he got after spotting an armory filled with menacing weapons. They should've probably kept that door closed.

The room he was taken to had been near a tiny kitchen. His bed was actually small, only taking up enough space for a single person. Various devices warriors often use for specialized training and testing laid strewn about the room — that sealed the deal. Nathan was positive that these people were warriors.

Before Taler left he told Nathan to be respectful, it'd go a long way with his aunt and uncle. He also confirmed that both were renowned warriors a few decades back. That put Nathan a bit on edge. The only reason he wasn't freaking out was that he'd just spent some pretty terrible days in a dungeon. No matter what they throw at him it probably wouldn't be as awful as that... hopefully.

Less than half an hour after Taler left he could smell something cooking. Another ten minutes passed before his ornate wooden door swung open. The smell of eggs was making Nathan's stomach grumble.

"Master," Nathan gleefully yelped with a look of expectation. "Thank you for taking me in."

Master walked up and gave him a bowl. It was filled with some sort of mixture — rice, eggs, green stuff... yellow stuff... purple stuff...

"This is?" Nathan was absolutely horrified.

"Medicinal food," he answered in a calm voice. "Don't complain about the flavor. This is meant to get you better, faster."

Nathan actually laughed. "Aside from the sandwich and donut that Emma gave me I've been eating mystery slop for days on end," Nathan explained. "I doubt anything could be worse than that was."

He had been wrong... it was worse. At least the slop could be choked down. This medicinal meal was almost pungent, and required a lot of chewing. What's worse is that Master watched him like a hawk. Nathan couldn't help but curse under his breath at having to eat the stuff. Eventually he was happy to be done and Master seemed satisfied with his fortitude.

"Well done," the elder said while giving him a look of admiration. "I didn't think you'd actually eat it all. I guess there's a first time for everything. Most of the young ones we take in for special training eat one or two bites and retch."

"It was... special," Nathan drolled listlessly.

Master slapped his knee. "I'll go make you some real food now. That wasn't actually medicinal food, it was just a test."

Nathan would've strangled the man if he had the strength. Instead he settled for glaring daggers at Master's back as the man walked away. Before Master could return with a proper meal, his wife walked in.

"Take off your robe," she commanded while taking a seat near his bed. "Need to see what I'm working with here."

Nathan suppressed the urge to scream like a little girl and did as told. He knew these people who trained not only themselves, but likely many young warriors, probably knew best how to help him recover physically.

To be honest, when he did take the robe off it was a bit shocking. Thanks to how tall he was there had never been too much fat on his body. But having transformed from slightly chubby to skin and bones, in the span of two weeks, left him looking like a damn monster.

It was odd, almost like he wasn't even himself anymore. Mistress was not pleased with what she saw. Nathan wasn't sure how she spotted it, but the woman guessed that he endured torture. Apparently Nathan was subconsciously favoring his shoulders. Thankfully there wasn't any lingering damage from it.

The fact that she was telling him these things nearly confirmed Nathan's crazy predicament. In the end however, he decided to reserve judgement until after the assassination.

All of Nathan's worries got sidelined when the smell of cooked meats assaulted him. This time Master brought in a whole platter of food. Pan-seared demonic bull flank steak with aquatic luger dumplings and a green smoothie. Needless to say, it was heavenly compared to what he'd just eaten before.

Both of them conversed from the side as he tore into the meal. It seemed like they were still making up their minds about him. Some things needed to be confirmed though.

"Where and why were you held captive?" Mistress asked.

Nathan stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment and decided to just blame his family. "Because I'm not smart enough, because I thought I saw demons, and because I'm a desolate one..." he began in pained resignation while choking down the dumplings, "I was hidden from the world in a tower on the Dela'marthus estate."

Both of them shared a blank look. Nathan tossed his real identification crystal to Mistress.

"I'll be damned," she said in a surprised voice while handing it back. "The rumored Dela'marthus boy, you're real."

By now Master was grinding his teeth. "No parent has the right to do this to their child," he spoke with rage. "If I ever see Darvos again, I'll rip his spleen out."

Nathan chuckled ruefully while finishing off his dumplings. "Things are looking better now, I'm finally free."

Both Master and Mistress watched Nathan fondly as he started chugging down the sweet smoothie. Mistress ruffled Nathan's scraggly black hair, and said in a gentle voice, "better days are coming child. About the demons..."

"That was just an early manifestation of my confluence. I'm really good at gathering ambient mana, and with enough practice my manipulation skills should be enough to handle it. The only problem right now is my mental endurance, using the low level spell for about five minutes is almost enough to knock me out cold," he explained.

Master cocked his head. "I've never heard of confluence causing people to see demons." He wasn't sure what to think, then again, he was no magus.

"I was seeing people's internal mana..." Nathan began, his hands started making some strange gestures while motioning towards his own head, "it's like the structure of a spell. I've yet to see two people with the same demon — for lack of a better word. I may be able to see it, but even my skill in confluence isn't enough for me to draw other people's internal mana out. I'm guessing it's just impossible to do something like that."

"That sounds handy," Mistress chimed in. "Plan on being a magus then?"

"No," he answered pointedly. "I refuse to follow in my parent's footsteps. I don't wish to be a magus or an artificer. Unfortunately, I'm not exactly warrior material either. So I'll be finding a nice quiet job somewhere and settling down."

Mistress clicked her tongue as Master laughed. "Believe it or not, you've got the frame for it," she claimed. "You're a bit worn out right now. However, with proper guidance you'd make a fine warrior."

Nathan raised an eyebrow at her. He'd always thought himself physically incapable of matching the standards of a warrior. He'd always feared pain and fighting giant creatures — snakes, spiders, and the like. His time in Radison however, had made him more fearful of humans than anything else — raised his tolerance for pain. At least a monster wouldn't torture him.

"What about my internal energy?" he asked.

Nathan knew that just like magic it was a seemingly random variable.

"We won't know until you're back on your feet and actually training," Master replied.

"Well, I don't see the harm in trying," Nathan spoke hopefully. "If you're willing to help me that is."

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