Newfear

Dreamcrown – Inside a Tavern

Hours had passed since the meeting. The tavern was crowded with murmured voices and dim lights flickering against the walls. Duke Blatir sat alone, drinking heavily, lost in complete despair. The table before him was utterly shattered... a reflection of his crumbling state. His right hand was covered in blood, stained with pain and regret. He downed the last sip from his cup, then buried his face in his hands as if the entire world had collapsed around him. He felt nothing but the crushing weight of life and the disappointment that wrapped around his heart.

At that moment, the silence of the tavern was broken by a low voice from the chair beside him.

"Here, let's drink together."

Blatir lifted his gaze swiftly. The voice was familiar. A quick glance, and he recognized the man beside him... Marquis Leon Cypher, watching him with a calm smile, seemingly enjoying the chaos around them.

Blatir frowned for a moment, then his eyes drifted back to the ruined table, as if it mirrored the turmoil within him.

Leon: "What's wrong, dear brother-in-law?… Is something troubling you?"

Blatir, grasping his empty cup, quickly glanced around. The bartender was nowhere to be seen, so he reached for the glass Leon had offered him. He drank it in one gulp, feeling the fiery burn of the liquor course through his body, bringing a fleeting sense of relief... a desperate attempt to escape the dark reality that consumed him.

Leon, glancing around calmly: "You know, you can always tell me how you feel… if you think it would help."

Blatir, his voice sharp as he stared at the table: "And why would I trust the 'Smiley Fox'..."

Leon sighed, letting out a quiet chuckle. "Hahaha… I've always hated that title."

Leon smirked as he watched Blatir shift through a storm of emotions, as if something unseen was pressing against his mind, unraveling his composure. There was something strange in the air, something creeping into Blatir's thoughts like wisps of smoke. His breathing grew heavier, his senses distorted... colors seemed brighter, sounds sharper... though he knew nothing had changed.

Leon leaned in, his face close to Blatir's ear. His whisper was deep, his words striking like lightning, charged with an invisible weight that burrowed into his mind.

Leon, whispering: "Do you know that those who lose everything… become the most dangerous? But those who believe they have gained everything… are more fragile than you can imagine.

You, Blatir… stand at the edge of the abyss. The moment you were closest to the throne, it slipped through your fingers like a mirage. Your loss is not just a fall from power… it is a defeat at the hands of the man who has always been an obstacle in your path... the man who stole everything from you while you thought you were in control."

Blatir gasped. His mind was more clouded than ever, every word Leon spoke igniting in his head like fire, burning hotter with each passing second. His limbs tingled, his eyes fluttered erratically. Something inside him... or perhaps something external... was breaking his grip on reality.

The air was thick with tension, as if the entire tavern was waiting for Blatir to explode. His body trembled with fury, his eyes twisted with madness. Suddenly, he slammed his fist against the table with all his strength. The already broken table splintered further, fragments crashing to the ground as his voice roared through the tavern.

In a flash of uncontrollable rage, Blatir lunged at Leon, his hands clamping around his throat with brutal force. Leon's body shuddered for a moment, but he quickly regained his eerie composure. Even as he struggled for air, words escaped his lips... ragged, yet powerful enough to carve themselves into Blatier's mind like fire.

Leon, with a strained smile: "They took it from you… They stole the throne from you, Blatir Vanheim!"

Blatir's eyes blazed with fury, his voice shaking the tavern's walls. "Silence! I don't want to hear your nonsense!"

But Leon, his sinister smile lingering like a creeping shadow, continued speaking, his voice slithering into Blatir's mind like a devil's whisper.

Leon, struggling to speak: "That crown… will be placed upon Nightover's head… while you sit here, broken, drowning in drink after spending your life fighting for that throne. Who is more worthy than you?! Who deserves to rule this kingdom more than you?!"

And then... something snapped.

Blatir erupted in a black fury, roaring like a wounded beast.

Blatie: "I said, shut up!"

He lifted Leon by the throat with shaking, enraged hands, ready to smash his head against the table... but suddenly…

"King Vanheim!…" "King Vanheim!…"

The words echoed through the tavern, shaking the air and silencing the noise.

Blatir froze for a moment, his heart pounding wildly. He turned slowly to see dozens of men standing behind him, their faces burning with anger, their eyes shining with passion, chanting his name... demanding that he reclaim his right.

A man from the crowd, his voice filled with furious conviction: "Duke Blatir!! Please, don't let them steal what is yours!"

Another man, shouting: "Yes! That so-called 'Duke Nightover' can't even wield a sword, yet they want to crown him king?! There is only one man worthy of the throne!"

"King Vanheim!…" "King Vanheim!…"

"King Vanheim!…" "King Vanheim!…"

Blatir's hands trembled. He felt something surge through his veins, something he hadn't felt in a long time… Anger? No. It was more than that. It was power. It was righteousness. It was fate itself calling to him.

He suddenly released Leon, who collapsed to the ground, gasping for air... but his eyes gleamed with triumph.

Slowly, he sat up, adjusting his disheveled clothing, watching Blatier freeze in place, staring into the distance, his mind consumed by a storm of emotions.

Leon, his voice quiet, yet carving itself into Blatir's soul: "You deserve the throne… Everyone knows it. They fear you because you are stronger than them… because you are the true king of Arcadia."

Blatir's heartbeat thundered in his chest. His breath quickened... rage, pride, vengeance… everything swirled into a single, unstoppable force.

He stormed out of the tavern, vanishing into the roaring chants of his name.

"King Vanheim!…" "King Vanheim!…"

Leon watched him disappear, then exhaled softly. Dusting off his sleeve, he slowly sat back down, picking up his glass of wine.

A man from the crowd approached him cautiously, his voice uncertain. "Did we do well, my lord?"

Leon gazed at his wine for a moment, watching the liquid swirl inside the glass. Then, he raised it slightly before answering with a cold, knowing smile.

Leon, his voice smooth and quiet: "Well done… very well done."

Then he took another sip, as the shadows around him deepened.... something lurking beneath them, waiting for the perfect moment… to strike.

Eastern Northern Varlom Lands – Raymond Returns to His Manor

Raymond stepped through the heavy gates in utter silence, his footsteps carrying the weight of something unseen.

The cold wind rustled the leaves in the garden, but he paid them no mind as he walked across the stone pathway toward the grand entrance. Fatigue gnawed at his bones, yet what awaited him at the threshold would erase all traces of exhaustion—replacing them with something far more… piercing.

While he was about to step onto the stairs leading inside, a weary voice pierced the air... a weak voice, yet burdened with an unseen weight.

"My lord…"

His steps halted. He turned sharply to the right, and there, against the stone wall, he saw Rinus. His face was smeared with blood, his shirt torn, his steps unsteady as if resisting collapse.

Raymond's eyes widened in shock, but before he could utter a word, Rinus finally crumpled to the ground.

Raymond: "Rinus!"

Raymond called out as he rushed toward him, kneeling beside him, catching him before he fully fell.

Raymond: "What happened here?! Who did this to you?!"

But Rinus didn't respond immediately. His breath was ragged, his half-closed eyes carrying a weight far heavier than mere physical pain. Moments passed before he finally whispered in a faint voice, barely escaping his dry lips.

Rinus: "That lady who came with you…"

Raymond's expression froze, as if time itself had stopped in that instant. He swallowed hard, then stammered in confusion.

Raymond: "W-What?… What happened to her? Is she okay?!"

Rinus, leaning against the wall, closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering his strength to say what couldn't be left unsaid. Then, slowly, he opened them again, looking at Raymond with an expression laced with regret and betrayal.

Rinus: "She… took everything… and left."

His words struck Raymond's mind like a blade. The air around him grew heavier, his blood frozen in his veins. He stared at Rinus, unable to believe it.

Raymond: "...What?"

The word escaped him in a whisper, barely audible. He needed denial, an explanation... anything to change this catastrophic reality. But he got nothing.

Raymond: "She did this?"

He looked into Rinus's eyes, searching for any sign, any denial… but all he found was suffocating silence. Then, finally, Rinus's voice came... weak but clear.

Rinus: "Yes…"

At that moment, it wasn't just a word. It was a slap without a hand, a stab without a blade, a fall without an end.