Chapter 89: Standing Dreams

Chapter 89: Standing Dreams

Chapter 89

Standing Dreams

Sylas paused abruptly, his feet rooting to the ground. Just yesterday, the room was empty--now, however, there sat the Prince, his legs covered with a blanket, gaze focused out the window, nibbling away at some grapes. Sighing, Sylas gritted his teeth and pushed down the surge of emotions before approaching, pouring himself a cup of wine, and sitting opposite Valen.

Neither of the two spoke for a little while, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Almost two weeks had gone by, and this was the first time Sylas had seen the young boy outside the wing of the wounded. Though still appearing haggard around the edges, the young Prince maintained his handsomeness, even enriched it--morbid though it may sound--by adding a tinge of melancholy.

... Ive heard youve been burning through the castles wine reserves, Valen was the one to break the silence, looking away from the window and toward Sylas.

What can I say? Sylas said. Wine... understands me.

Ive known many men that were understood by wine and other manner of booze, Valen said. And all of them had one of two things in common: they were bitter, dissatisfied, ultimately petty folk who saw injustice everywhere.

...

Or... they were broken, the Prince added. Men beaten by life, looking for any manner of reprieve they could find. Which of the two are you?

... just an alcoholic, Sylas flashed a smile. Im afraid.

Everybody avoids it.

H-huh?

Looking at my legs, Valen said. They seem to think that if they just keep looking into my eyes... I will somehow forget Ive become a cripple.

...

I hate it.

... arent you angry? Sylas quizzed.

Angry? I am, Valen nodded, though his voice lacked the manner of fumes that made such a statement believable. I will never walk again. Of course... Im angry. Sometimes, in the morning, when Im still half-asleep... its almost as though I can feel them again.

...

Just if I reached out, just reach out a bit... Id walk again. Theyre there, like phantoms. But then I awake. And theyre gone. Leaving behind a ghastly, hollow sensation. And I feel it... anger consuming me. The first few days, Master had to feed me wollyseeds each time I woke up.

...

Why me? Id wonder, the young Prince continued, a bitter smile emerging on his face. Why me? All my life, Ive tried to be good. Decent, at the very least. I didnt steal. I didnt kill. And though my conscience is far from clean, I never thought... I deserved this.This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

You didnt, Sylas added.

... when I was a boy, Valen said. One of my uncles, Aydeen, used to take me on hunts. Unlike my Father and his lot, the uncle had given up on his royal blessings a long, long, long time ago. He spent his days drinking, indulging in women, and hunting game. I loved spending time with him, back then. In the Palace, all I would ever be told was dont run, be proper, you look dirty. But, when I was outside with him... I was free. Hed take me to the forests and fields and let me run till my lungs would collapse. And though I always treasured those memories, I also always thought Id have my freedom one day once again--freedom to run and hunt and drink just like my uncle did.

... what happened to him? Sylas asked.

He was beyond certain that it existed--the hooded man liked heralded from there. Furthermore, as they had to intercept the dead, they likely settled close to the 'border'. As such, the best course of action was to just walk along the edge both east and west, and look for them.

Stab.

It was still difficult, however, considering the sheer quantity of snow. Hed likely last a few days, at best, once the true winter resumed in full. Because of it, he could only explore limited space. It was still worth trying, however, though the conjecture was hardly foolproof. In fact, it was entirely possible that they didnt have a settlement and instead used some form of magic to teleport or something along those lines.

Stab.

Another point of failure was his inability to locate Iun. Wherever the Thrall went, it didnt seem as though he was keen on returning. It was unfortunate, as the boy was a good bank of knowledge--especially when it came to the dead. Additional disappointment in the hooded man permanently dying was that he seemed to know who Iun was, or at least it appeared as though the two were acquainted.

Stab.

Then there was the matter of Ascindium Shard. One of Sylas aspirations was learning how to replicate how the Shards are made. Ever since he picked up on the few ancient characters Iun taught Ryne and him, hed had such ideas. However, even now, he was entirely unable to decipher the shard. As it stood, it was just another very situational tool.

Stab.

Fixing the castle.

Stab.

Recuperating the provisions.

Stab.

Clearing the quest about a Thrall that died three thousand years ago.

Stab.

Mastering magic even further.

Stab.

Swordsmanship.

Stab.

Talismans.

Stab.

His mind.

Stab.

The sword continued to flutter for a moment, extended from his hand. Snowflakes fell tender and they fell gently, melting upon the simplest touch.

So, so, so many things, he realized. And likely plenty more that hed forgotten in the decades that have melded in his mind.

One by one, he mumbled. One by one.