Chained

The darkness screams louder the more you plunge into its depths, it gets colder the more you accept its grasp and the faces disappear quickly as you welcome its power into your soul. The light has no place in such a desolate world; the faster you give up on it, the sooner you can seize what the void offers.

Endless turquoise water surrounded his sinking body, yet the direction of his falling was unknown. But peace overcame him and the tranquility of his flowing movements was obvious. A modest smile shone on his face with a peaceful gleam as he sunk deeper where no light fell. His eyes were open, glaring at the hands that were dragging him, at the faces that he could not remember. He beheld the vast, unending sea that ensnared him; if he could move in it he would conquer it. Bubbles slowly rose from his parted mouth, rising in an unknown direction and disappearing as quickly as they appeared. The rushing thoughts were deafening but the water was calm and silent. He could hear small voices talking, laughing, fighting but he could not say to whom they belonged, nor could he understand what they were saying. Though he knew these voices were familiar and they made him feel elated, somber, and bitter. Long ago he felt these hands around him; never did they pull him with force, yet he swam where they led him. Similarly, he truly never fought them back, trying to free himself from their grasp, allowing himself to be forever tortured and stalked by their presence. At least he was at peace with it and the thoughts of darkness did not scare him anymore. With a sudden breath, he felt that he was drowning and woke up from his nightmarish slumber.

Morsephius quickly lifted his upper body from the pile of hay he was lying on top of, as he started coughing and gasping for air. His thoughts were rushing and he was unsure of what was happening and where he was. Moreover, a strange feeling came over him and he lifted his head to observe his surroundings.

He quickly surmised that he was in a barn, although to whom it belonged he wasn’t sure. There were stacks of hey everywhere, neatly stacked in small pillars that rose to a dozen feet above where he was sitting. Small barn animals quickly scuttled away from him and watched with a careful eye how he moved. As he was slowly regaining his steady breath, he noticed that his tunic was dripping wet, as well as his face. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have nightmares, but even the worst of them wouldn’t result in such a mess. Quickly, his ears perked up as heard a distinct sound of squeaking metal behind him. With a hand holding one of his sides, he rose from the wet hay nest in which he was lying and stood as straight as he could.

As the barn door slowly pried itself open, an intense beam of moonlight shone right through the agape door, bathing the room in a delicate white veil of dancing shadows and light. Through the light of the moon, Morsephius saw a figure standing next to one of the doors, with one of its hands holding its shoulder and the other tightly holding a dripping bucket. As the moonlight was so strong, and his eyes still used to the dark, it took him some time to focus away from the silhouette and to concentrate on the appearance of the figure. Its stained hands and muddy overalls indicated to him that it was a farmer, and the proprietor of the barn, and by that logic the property, he was lying inside. Morsephius swiftly turned himself to the direction of the figure and bowed his head low in gratitude. He wasn’t happy to do this, but he had no recollection of the events that followed his arrival to this barn, so feigning gratitude would be his best bet. The farmer slowly stepped away from the entrance and threw the bucked to one of the sides of the barn, which scared away a few chickens that were idly standing by, intrigued by the situation at hand.

“Thank you, sir, I’m eternally grateful to you. I hope I have not sullied your property in any way or that my presence was not a nuisance to you in an…” - Morsephius did not get a chance to finish his forced speech of gratefulness, as he was suddenly interrupted by the farmer -

“ Having some bad dreams, huh? I heard you screaming from a mile away.”

Morsephius sensed a faint feeling of malice from the way he spoke, although he was still not sure if he was misreading the situation, he continued: “Kindly, my dreams are none of your concern, even though I’m indebted to you for taking care of me. Once more, you have my gratitude but I will be taking my leave. ”He was aware of the conceitedness in his words, but he wouldn’t allow a human to speak to him in such a manner. 

The farmer let out a slight chuckle as he started walking towards Morsephius. “You see son, in these parts we express gratitude differently, but you wouldn’t know that, now would you?”

Morsephius, now convicted that his hunch was right, attempted to back off from the slowly approaching threat when he quickly met the ground in quite an unfashionable manner. He felt a tight shackle around the ankle of his left foot, which he hadn’t noticed prior due to the pace at which the events were unfolding. 

“What do you want of me?” - Exclaimed Morsephius loudly, whilst lifting himself from the ground, covered in dirt and hay.

“Tell me, son, what’s your name and where do you come from? You tell me that and you’re free to go? How does that sound?" - The farmer stopped after a few steps and leaned on one of the hay columns, never letting the sight of Morsephius.

“Why would I ever tell you anything? To what purpose will you use this information?” Morsephius had quite a disgruntled look on his face even though he was trying his best to hide it, he didn’t enjoy allowing humans to have their way with him. The farmer shook his head slowly from side to side and raised his hands in disbelief, allowing a small smile to creep its way onto his face.

“You see what I was saying? How can I trust that you are grateful when you won’t even show me a modicum of respect? Even after I brought you over to my home, next to my family you still don’t trust me enough to tell me your name. I don’t like being disrespected and even more than that I don’t like when someone sneaks around my property and doesn’t even want to tell me their name. Well, then we have to have a different sort of a conversation.”

The farmer extended his hand onto one of the shorter piles of hay, the top of which was out of Morsephius’ field of vision. He promptly turned his whole body in the direction of the haystack and lifted a small hand ax. Once Morsephius saw the moonlight glare off of the well-polished ax's blade, he quickly attempted to pull the chain out of the ground with all his might, albeit unsuccessfully. A feeling of helplessness and fear rushed over his body, as he knew he was still weak and couldn’t cast any spells without his focus. He tried to feel up the pockets of his trousers, realizing that all of his accouterments were taken away from him.

“What did you do with my belongings? Where are they? Answer me you old fool!” - Morsephius’ face grew more in resentment and anger, as he became agitated with the situation.

“I told you that you had no respect and now you’ve proven me right. I took all your strange bags and toys and locked them up somewhere where they’ll be safe; until I sell them of course. But now we have an even bigger problem on our hands, as you seem to be putting on quite a pouty face. I’ve just asked for your name and purpose but it looks like you won’t even grace me with that much. As my last gift to you, and as a show of generosity I will ask you once more; what is your name, and why were you in my field?”

“You’ll have to beat it out of me you old pile of horse dung,” - said Morsephius as he spat in the direction of the farmer. He was sure that he would meet his end if he didn’t retaliate in any way, and that there wasn’t anything in his vicinity that he could use to defend himself. His last option was to use unfocused magic, even though he had no mana left in him, which could render him unconscious. As such, he raised his arm and focused his remaining power onto his hand as thick dark clouds appeared out of thin air and began to swirl and dance around his hand, completely covering it in a dark fog. His eyes turned from pale to dark blue, almost resembling a clear night’s sky full of galaxies and stars.

“Omnino Delere!” shouted Morsephius, as the dark clouds started to converge at the palm of his now dark and misty hand. As he was about to launch the ball of dark matter, he suddenly fell to his knees, brought down by sharp and severe pain in his abdomen. He could barely breathe and every breath was as painful as getting stabbed by a well-sharpened Anasinarian blade.

As Morsephius was battling for every breath, the farmer, staggeringly, stepped a few feet back. The shock of seeing real magic dazed him for a few seconds, but he was quickly back to his old self.

“I knew you were trouble from the moment I saw you. Thank "The High Council" that I took you here and shackled you as a dog you are. Say the last prayer to your disguising gods.”

The farmer calmly walked towards Morsephius, brandishing the ax and sporting a small crooked smile on his aged, but sharp face. He took time for his every step, juggling the ax between his left and right hand and enjoying the sight of his contorting prisoner. Moments passed and he was standing on top of Morsephius, prepared to slash at him, but at his own, leisurely tempo.

As he raised his arms and released a deeply satisfied grunt, he heard a loud blunt sound from behind, and before he could turn around to see what was the source of this disturbance he was met with a heavy iron boot to his side, which sent him flying across the barn. The hit was of such incredible strength that the only thing that prevented the farmer from ripping through the barn was the rows of haystacks that were perfectly lined up to protect him. It only took one hit to fully knock him out, and he was sitting unconscious next to the, now slightly dented barn wall. The perpetrator of this tour de force slowly made their way towards the farmer, dragging their war scythe along the dusty, hay-filled ground and leaving a perfect line in the dirt behind them.

It didn’t take too much time for the farmer to regain his senses and to realize who the person approaching him was. He started thrusting his legs and pushing himself further against the wall while pleading and begging.

“Please, please Miss Diana, you don’t understand the background of what happened, he wanted to hurt me, he wanted to hurt Joanne and Arth…” - Diana swiftly smacked him against the head with the stick end of her war scythe, which made him weep even harder.

“Shut your filthy mouth Peter, I saw everything I needed to see. To you, it’s Hero Diana of the Order of the Eagle. You know what the punishment for your deeds is by the Proclamation?”

Peter knelt before Diana and further continued his pleas:

“Oh Hero Diana oph the Order of the Eagle, please allow me to liph, I beg oph you, I didn't want to hurt him, I wanted only to teach him a lesson, phlease."

Morsephius began to slowly recover from his collapse, still not being able to stand, but he was aware of his surroundings and could look around. He heard that there was a quarrel of sorts in his vicinity, but at that moment he could not observe anything beyond the ground that was beneath him. Finally, using all of his might, he lifted his head and, still in pain, glanced over to the commotion that was happening. The lustrous beams of moonlight fell perfectly on Diana's smooth skin, and it looked like the moon shone a spotlight towards her. Beneath her, he could barely make out the petrified face of the farmer, kneeling and drooling all over himself, and begging for forgiveness. He was apathetic at the moment, not being able to truly feel anything due to the sharp pain that was preoccupying his thoughts, but he was sure that he will get to live at least another day, which was the only thing that mattered. Before his body gave out and he fall back down to the floor to which he was still shackled, he bore witness to the swift and brutal enforcement of the proclamation, as the farmer's life was taken from him, as he would've taken Morsephius', had not Diana intervened. With one quick thrust of the scythe, the farmer's head was toppling on the floor towards him, blood gushing everywhere. As it landed a few feet from him, he could last no more, and the darkness took over him once again.

While falling in and out of consciousness, he could vaguely remember Diana rushing over to him and examing his limp and hurting body, and applying a salve that made the intensity of the pain lessen greatly. She was speaking to him, yet he could not answer nor could he understand her words. He could only see her lips move and hеr stern but comforting face change a multitude of expressions as she was trying to stabilize him. Everything was as if he was trying to peek through a curtain of mist; if he would move, it would move with him.

At this time he could only let go and allow himself some rest in this realm of thick billowing haze. Nevertheless, he was slowly becoming more disturbed and resentful, since he could not protect himself even once during this whole ordeal, and had humans deciding what would be of his life in his stead. However, now was not the time to display annoyance, being that it would only make everything harder on him and the situation at hand was already not in his favor. He pondered for a few moments and concluded that the only right course of action for him would be to flee beyond the human villages and to attempt to find shelter and plan out how he would get his power back. The biggest hurdle to his plans was that he didn’t know exactly where he was, even though he got a few clues when he peaked out of the barn window. He surmised that he must be somewhere north, beyond the great forest and possibly beneath the kingdoms, but that was as far as he could deduce. Only time would tell. 

 *

"The rumors keep on pilling up, Theodore. I see people whispering on the streets, in the fields, and in the taverns, but I had no luck in finding anything concrete. I had Celeste come to me a few days ago."

Diana was sitting at her desk in a candle-lit room filled to the brim with different books, new and old, as well as heaps of tomes and scrolls. The scent of old paper permeated the heavy air making it difficult to breathe. She was rustling through her notes, meticulously going over each odd detail she could find, even so, her face was pent with frustration and it was obvious that something was bothering her. Across from her, on another table, sat a fairly short, white-haired man dressed in a flamboyant red hooded cape with a long white scarf inscribed with strange letters and symbols and a dark brown leather coat. He was twirling an intricate crimson dagger between his fingers.

"That sweet tulip from the Three Kings?". Theodore's eyes shifted to the side as he was trying to recollect her exact appearance.

Diana shot a glance toward Theodore, lifting one of her brows. "I hope you haven't been brazen towards her?"

"No way, I haven't met her yet, she seems sweet though." He continued to swing his legs, looking off at the distance.

"Anyway, I've had her come here and tell me of the rumors circulating at the Three Kings."

"Anything worth your investment?"

"Hardly, people are even more cautious than before." Diana sat back in her chair, and let out a disappointed sigh.

"Of course they are, nobody wishes to spend time in the gray halls or get executed. I told you I could just eavesdrop a bit and follow any leads that we might find. That's not that different from what you're doing now." He nodded his head and raised his shoulders.

"This is the last time I'm telling you no, and if we have to go over this again you'll be getting the blunt side of the scythe. People know you, and even if they didn't notice you it's against the rules."

"What you're doing is similarly against the rules."

"If it comes down to it I can explain that it's for the greater good, and I'm only asking for rumors. You, on the other hand, have a track record, and I wouldn't want you following people. I'm sure they wouldn't as well. '

"True. So, let's get back to Celeste." The smile on his face was too conspicuous and even though Diana noticed, she decided it would be more productive to continue with the more relevant topics.

"Something was interesting that she brought up," said Diana as she slowly rose from her seat and started pacing around the room, while the floorboards creaked with her every step.

"Would you like to elaborate?". He sat back with his hands behind him and focused his sight on Diana.

"She heard that someone fainted on one of the wheat fields up nort..."

"On the Palebrook homestead? The one belonging to Peter Palebrook?" He interrupted her with a perturbed look on his face as he leaned forward.

"It seems so, would you know anything about this?" She asked, interested in his reaction.

"Continue, we'll see if my information is relevant."

"There isn't much more to this, unfortunately, although there are a few details that caught my attention."

She continued speaking as if she was talking to herself: "It's not seldom that someone faints while working, the heat can be quite a formidable enemy for those who toil in the fields. What seems strange to me is that it wasn't one of his workers. "

Theodore raised his chin and sprang up: "Couldn't it be that it was just a passer-by who collapsed from the heat? That sounds the most logical, doesn't it?"

"It does, but Peter didn't allow anyone to see this person, nor did he say who he is or where he sent him off to. Of what I could gather this person had strange attire, something the workers don't see too often."

"A foreigner, trader...?"

Diana realized that she might be too paranoid and exhaled loudly, lamenting about her detective skills. She walked back to her table and fell back into her chair, throwing her legs up onto the table. Theodore stood up and started unbuttoning his coat. It took him a few seconds to get through all the buttons as he was very careful not to damage any of them. His movements were always well-coordinated and impeccable, so much so that anyone watching would be impressed when he did even the most mundane of things. Out of his inner pocket, he pulled out a small piece of paper, wrapped like a scroll and tied with a small piece of yarn. He walked up to Diana and handed it to her:

"Someone left this in my room at the Old Willow Inn. Which means that someone knows that I abide there. That's bad news for me, but could be good news for you. I'd recommend getting a few people to keep you safe and going to the place mentioned in the scroll. You might get some of your questions answered there. If this person knows where I lodge, they might have more information on the Palebrooks. I don't know of a better fighter than you, so I won't have to worry."

Diana blushed, but it was quickly replaced with a look of confusion. She had many questions on her mind, but Theodore was already buttoning up and preparing to leave. He tilted his head and smiled, and with a wave of his hand left the premise.