That dream was different from the others.
I saw him again.
This same scene had appeared in my dreams many times before, a lone man adorned in a bloody trench coat stood there alone, surrounded by a muddy hellscape.
Endless amounts of Lifeless bodies strewn across the long expanse surrounded him, the heavy sound of rain washed away the blood, which sunk into the many gaping craters around the scared battlefield.
The man seemed lonely, like a lone branch on a decayed tree, he stood there, feeble and helpless, almost as if the wind could carry him away.
He turned to the horizon, his feet adorned by black boots crushing the black mud beneath him as he turned the opposite way, his back facing my visage.
There he stood slouched, exhaustion evident in his movements, until suddenly and slowly he raised his arm until he was pointing to the horizon.
A moment passed, his lone fading back occupied my gaze only for a short moment before a flash of light consumed the distance.
Loud ringing flooded my ears, getting louder as the bright light started to expand on the horizon.
It was not the only one, many followed it, other large bright lights violently tearing through this reality suddenly on the horizon, destroying everything in their wake.
The ringing got louder.
The man standing there started to turn around, the rain had stopped, his whole body adorned in raven black stood as a defiance against the bright white light growing larger and closer on the horizon.
The ringing in my ear was almost deafening.
The man faced me, his face impossible to recognise, shrouded in an impenetrable darkness. The only thing that could be discerned was his pupils.
Hatred, Regret and Shame stared straight into my eyes.
His pupils stared straight at me completely in defiance of his body on the verge of collapse, his arm still pointing at the horizon.
The moment he spoke, the world seemed to freeze, and the only sound that I could hear was his words.
"They're coming."
Finally, the sky was bleached white, and the ringing sound ceased.
My head darts up as I gasp for breath, cold sweat dripping from my forehead lands on the desk I was sleeping on, adorned with scattered papers now partially soaked and a feather pen to the side.
It was obvious from the wet patch of drool on the parchment that I had ruined some of my work.
That dream was different this time.
Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I could see my hand shaking uncontrollably. I gripped the table in front of me and slowly breathed to calm my nerves. That unexplainable dream always caused fits of unease in me, not to mention the irregularity in this particular one.
'That dream... it's so familiar, yet I can't seem to...'
BANG!
Lost deep in my thoughts, I get startled by a loud banging on my front door.
"Sir Lucien, I have a letter from his lordship Arthur and he's sent me to make sure you've received it this time."
'They're persistent, aren't they? '
With exhaustion and a hint of sarcasm, I offer my mental response and slowly get up from my old wooden seat, turn around and scan the old wooden room to look for the door.
A two-metre tall wooden door in front of me adorned with a rustic latch that provides more comfort than security.
Walking to the door, I notice my reflection in the mirror, and what greets me is the face of a 14-year-old boy with an accompanying stature. With jet black hair, dark brown, almost black irises and a fair complexion, I look painfully average, or so I think, but I guess in this world black hair is somewhat rare, though I can't help but feel the opposite. My appearance still left me slightly surprised, considering my age and mental maturity, though in these trying times maybe it wasn't as uncommon as I thought.
"You have 10 seconds before I'm forced to take appropriate measures."
"You break that door down and I will throw you out the window."
Rubbing my eyes to take away the drowsiness I felt, I grab the brownish-grey flat cap hanging on the coat rack next to the door and nest it on my head.
Releasing the latch and opening the door, I'm greeted by an unwelcoming face above me. Standing in front of my doorway, adorned in a black and white butler uniform complemented by silk gloves, and with well-kept grey hair on his head and blue eyes was Sabian, one my benefactors' assistants, and to my grief, a good friend of his.
Exuding dignified arrogance and his discerning and critical eyes gleaming down into mine, hidden annoyance became evident from his expressionless face.
"It seems the letter yesterday did not reach your residence, may I ask if you know why?"
"Do we have to do this so early in the morning?"
Annoyed by my drowsiness and apparent lack of attention, Sabian passes me a pure white letter, adorned with a bright red stamp in the shape of a wolf surrounded by thin knives, the signature of Lord Arthur and seeing how it hadn't been opened, it seemed the contents were purely for me to view.
Accepting the letter, I feel the crisp texture of the paper that could feed a family of 4 for a month purely for its value, and place in the pocket of my jacket.
"Read it this time, and make sure not to keep his lordship waiting."
With that, Sabian turned around and left through the long dark-wood hallway, light from the windows indicating sunrise and the sounds from outside alerting me of the early rush hour.
While I absentmindedly closed my door, making sure the latches were secured and sat back down on my wooden chair, I grabbed the letter. With the letter in my hand, I stare at it for a solid minute, just appreciating the value of what I held in my hand.
Surely, those scheming nobles of the inner rim would love to get their hands on this, or even just gain his favour, yet a poor orphaned boy was the one so honoured.
"If they saw what I was about to do, they'd probably petition to hang me."
With that funny thought in mind, I press my thumb down onto the stamp, ruining the perfect craftsmanship of the stamp. Almost as if a trigger had been sprung, the red stamp started to dissolve into smoke, the smell of roses reaching my nose.
"A simple incantation, but there's probably only a dozen who could possibly crack it in this city alone."
Opening the letter slowly, I pull out the neatly folded paper and lay it on the desk, showing that it lacked contents, and was utterly blank.
Breathing a sigh, I lament at the cautiousness of the man who sent me such a letter and grab the unused letter opener.
Instead of using it for its predetermined role, i prick my index finger to allow a very small droplet of blood to drip. Once the small droplet hit the paper, the small red stain spread across the rest of the paper at a rapid pace, dying it a deep red.
Once the paper had completely died red, the previously white paper started to slowly dissolve from the corners, but before the letter consumed itself, I muttered the word I was taught to use in this situation.
"Revelare."
Information started pouring into my head as though it wasn't a new presence, but merely something I had forgotten. Watching the blood-red piece of paper dissolve, I sit there and comprehend the new information gathered in my head. Staring blankly for a couple of seconds, a troubled expression comes upon my face, but then a small smirk formed.
"He doesn't accept no for an answer, huh? Well, I guess we both have to use the cards we're dealt with to a degree, I just wish I had some more time to relax, I'm not really in a rush."
With a sigh, I lean back in my chair onto the hind legs, stretch and breathe yet another sigh. I was too tired for the things that would come to pass, and no doubt this was the end of my long seclusion.
But despite my indignation, a small smile adorned my mouth and a final sigh escaped my lips.
"This is the beginning, huh? I can't wait to see how it turns out."