Roric let out a low whistle as they stepped out of the Council Chamber.

  “Well, Dawson. You certainly know how to make an entrance.” He clapped Alex on the back, steering him down the hall. “Now, let's not worry about the old warhounds. They smell a mystery in everything.”

  Alex stumbled slightly under the force of the slap. “Where are we going?”

  “To get you out of those borrowed nobleman’s clothes and into something you can actually move in,” Roric said. “We have a long walk to the Sunken Archives ahead of us, and I doubt the Gloom cares for fashion. Still, no harm in looking our best while running for our lives.”

  “Wait, where exactly are these… Archives?” Alex asked.

  “Curious, are we?” Roric smirked. “I suppose being a fourth-rate soldier means you missed the orientation tour. Some things are confidential.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a place for pleasure, if you know what I mean.”

  “What?” Alex blinked.

  “Shhh, keep it down,” Roric laughed, straightening up. “I'm just messing with you. On a serious note, the Sunken Archives hold the last of the world's history… a sacred library. It's a place Lady Elenora likes to spend most of her time.”

  He paused, a thoughtful frown replacing his smile. “I don’t quite understand why she would want you there. But again… she is the Shard-Maiden. Her reasons are her own.”

  “What is the Shard-Maiden?” Alex asked.

  Roric stopped walking. He blinked, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

  “Alex. Did you get hit in the head with a rock? You are a soldier of the Maiden's Army, and you don't remember who she is?”

  “Uh, well… not exactly,” Alex stammered, his mind racing to find an excuse. “I do remember her, but… the color of her hair was different.”

  It was the best he could do. Alex wasn't great at immediate confrontations.

  Back home, whenever he broke something or failed a test, he would prepare himself by rehearsing answers in his head. He would play out scenarios from worst-case to best-case to ensure he didn't land himself in deeper trouble. But here? He was improvising.

  “Different color, you say?” Roric’s knowing smirk reappeared. “You must have really hit something on the field.”

  “Ah… yes. Maybe I have memory loss from the battle. I can’t seem to remember anything before it,” Alex lied, hoping to clear any doubt.

  Though he kept telling himself this was just a "Dream," Alex didn't want to get on anyone’s bad side. Morpheus had warned him clearly, and he wasn't keen to test the "Dire Consequences."

  ‘But would I really die though?’ The thought lingered as they reached the heavy doors leading outside.

  *****

  It was around noon when they stepped into the courtyard.

  The sun’s light barely made it to the ground, filtered through a sky filled with heavy, pale grey clouds. It cast a dull light over the fortress.

  The courtyard was a mix of faces. Children played in the open while women carried out their chores. Guards roamed the battlements, patrolling the stone arches.

  Near the stables, the mood was heavier. Exhausted riders unmounted their horses, their weapons unsheathed and stained. They were the search party returning.

  No survivors.

  “You know, you are a very lucky person,” Roric spoke, his gaze fixed on the tired riders. “Among five thousand, only you survived. Though I guess we have to thank Lady Elenora for arriving when she did.”

  “Huh… was she there? On the battlefield?" Alex asked, surprised.

  “Oh yes, she was. Do you not remember?” Roric shifted his gaze to Alex. Letting out a soft sigh, he explained. “The light you spoke of… the one that saved you. That was Lady Elenora. That was her Magic.”

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  ‘Magic… did he say magic?’

  Alex’s heart skipped a few beats. He thought he had misheard, but Roric repeated the explanation. Lady Elenora’s magic: Dawn’s Light.

  This, among many things, piqued Alex's imagination.

  *****

  Sometime later, they arrived at the Quartermaster’s workshop.

  They needed something custom-made, as the standard stores didn’t have anything to Roric’s liking, and truthfully, Alex didn't find the standard outfits appealing either.

  The Quartermaster was… well, a woman.

  That alone caught Alex off guard. He hadn't expected the person hammering metal and heaving rolls of fabric to be a young woman, maybe only a few years older than him.

  She had her back to them, fully absorbed in her work. Her hair was a long, dull river of red, streaked with grease, hanging almost to her waist. Her skin glistened with sweat and a fine layer of soot, speaking of long hours toiling over forges. She wore a heavy leather apron, scarred from countless repairs, over a simple dark tunic. Her arms were corded with lean muscle, the kind that came from real labor, not a gym.

  Roric cleared his throat to announce their presence.

  The hammering paused. The woman turned her head over her shoulder.

  Tsk.

  She clicked her tongue and turned back to her work, completely ignoring them.

  ‘Huh… what was that about?’ Alex thought.

  Beside him, Roric sighed. With his easy-going walk, he moved forward, slowly approaching the woman.

  “Come on, love. Don’t tell me you're still angry with me.” Roric’s voice was soothing, almost sweet.

  ‘Love? Is she his girlfriend?’

  Alex doubted it. From the short time he had spent with Roric, he was sure the man was a player.

  ‘That’s why he reminds me of Marcus.’

  Though Roric and Marcus were different in every other way, their personalities were cut from the same cloth.

  Alex watched them, his mind wandering. He wondered if his understanding of dreams, as constructs of one’s imagination, played a part here.

  ‘The mind takes what it sees, what it interacts with, and uses it to output our fears and desires.’

  It was interesting.

  Alex stared at Roric. His conclusion was that this dream was a mix of his waking life and his fantasy tropes. Lady Elenora was his "Dream Girl." Roric was a spinoff of Marcus. The castle was a setting from a movie or game.

  ‘Yup, sounds about right. I wonder if this castle has a dungeon?’ A faint smirk graced his lips.

  [Dream Resonance: +8]

  The voice spoke in his head, catching Alex off guard. He had almost forgotten all about Morpheus.

  “I see you're finding this amusing,” Roric’s voice snapped him back from his daydreaming.

  “Uh… well,” Alex stuttered.

  “Enough of that. I managed to get you a date with Elizabeth,” Roric said, sounding ecstatic as he gestured to the Quartermaster.

  “I’m sorry, did you say date?” Alex blinked.

  He turned his gaze to Elizabeth. Her bright red eyes shimmered in the torchlight, looking like rubies. Her features were soft, almost noble… out of place in a forge. She was beautiful, to say the least.

  ‘Wait. I get to go on a date?’

  Then reality kicked in.

  ‘Wait, that's not what he means.’

  ‘Marcus, you continue to haunt me even in my wildest dreams. Damn it.’

  “Yes, you heard right. A date,” Roric winked at Alex. “She will take your measurements. Of different parts of your body, if you know what I mean.”

  Alex sighed. ‘Yup… Marcus.’

  “Don’t listen to him. He has a few screws loose,” Elizabeth sighed, wiping her hands on a rag. “I thought I could fix him, you know? Like I fix things around here. But some things aren't worth the effort.”

  She stared at Roric, her gaze filled with nothing but disgust.

  “Come on, love, don’t be like that,” Roric grinned, his smile never faltering. “What you and I had was special in its own way.”

  “It was something, alright,” she muttered, turning to grab a measuring tape. “But ‘special’ isn’t the word I'd use.”

  ‘Maybe not Marcus…’ Alex thought. ‘I don't know. Marcus is a player, but not to that extent… maybe.’

  “Anyway, Alex, nice to meet you. If you would step right over here,” Elizabeth said, measuring tape in hand, her voice all business now. “I just need to get your measurements.”

  As Alex stepped forward, he caught Roric giving him an exaggerated thumbs-up from behind Elizabeth’s back.

  Hello everyone! A quick update:

  My writing schedule is now set for Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.