Caesar leaned against the door, his forehead resting against the cool wood as he struggled to rein in his turbulent emotions. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and his jaw clenched tightly as his mind replayed Orniest's words. My sister… married to him? That guy? He couldn't believe it, nor did he want to. Even the thought of it sent a fresh wave of disbelief through him.
He pushed off the door, pacing the length of his cabin, his boots thudding softly against the creaking wooden floorboards. "Pompous bastard," he muttered under his breath, his words carrying a venom he rarely allowed himself to feel. A cool breeze brushed against his skin, the air stifling despite the cool morning breeze slipping through the shutters.
He glanced around, his eyes landing on the small table by the hearth, cluttered with an unfinished carving project and a scattering of wood shavings all across the floor.
Perhaps the reason he felt so upset was that he had woken up so early as after all, he'd never been a morning person. Suddenly seeing his nemesis appear on his doorstep and call him brother-in-law, as if he hadn't charged him 100 gold coins more than all the other residents in the village just because his mother thought he looked attractive, was enough to make his blood boil.
Maybe in the morning, he'll feel much, much better.
So it was with a heavy sigh that he turned to his bed, the simple linens looking as inviting as ever. Dragging himself toward the bed, he allowed the weight of his body to sink into the mattress. The familiar creak of the bed frame beneath him was a small comfort that grounded him in the present, even if his mind remained elsewhere.
"Caesar"
"Tomorrow," he muttered to himself. "I'll think about this tomorrow."
"Oh Caesar"
Gradually, his mind began to quiet, his thoughts slowing to a sluggish crawl as the comforting feeling of sleep settled over him. With each passing moment, consciousness slipped further away from him until, at last, his body surrendered fully to a deep, deep sleep.
Before his eyes could completely close shut, he caught a fleeting movement in the corner of his vision. It was so brief that he dismissed it as nothing more than a trick of the light and fell asleep.
________________________________________
(Time: 11:20 am)
The sun had dipped lower in the sky by the time Caesar finally stirred, the sharp scent of evening air creeping in through the cracks in the cabin. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked, momentarily distracted, before the events of the morning came crashing back into his skull.
With a groan, he scrubbed a hand over his face as he sat up. His head throbbed faintly, and the bitter taste of restless sleep clung to him. The room was dimly lit now, the sunlight having shifted angles, casting long golden shadows across the floorboards. For a moment, he sat motionless, staring at the table across the room where the wood shavings still lay scattered across the floor.
"Maybe I should apologize. What I did yesterday was irresponsible. I should be happy for her, not behaving like this."
What do you think, Woody?" he muttered aloud, his voice coming out a bit scratchy as he spoke.
His gaze shifted toward the small wooden carving resting on the edge of the table, an unfinished figure of a horse he had been working on for weeks. He'd started calling it "Woody" after his third failed attempt to carve its legs, and now the name just seemed to fit.
The figure, of course, remained silent, but he'd like to imagine it was judging him with its blank face.
'I'm 57 years old and I'm still acting like a child'
He stood, stretching the stiffness from his muscles, as he shuffled toward the table. He picked up Woody, turning it over in his hands. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm being dramatic," he said as if responding to some imagined rebuke. "An old man like me acting like a child after hearing that his 20th sister is finally getting a husband."
Knock knock knock!
The sharp knock at the door startled Caesar out of his musings. He set Woody down on the table and turned toward the sound, his brows furrowing.
"Who could it be now?" he muttered to himself as he walked toward the door, a bit of irritation creeping back into his chest. It had been a long day already, and he wasn't in the mood for any more surprises.
He wanted to process his emotions, and although he was eager to give an apology to both his sister and Orniest, he wasn't in the mood for any interactions right now.
Knock knock knock!!
"Stop banging on my goddamn door like you're the freaking guards!!" Caesar clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stand despite the heaviness of his limbs and the dull ache that throbbed at his temples.
"I swear to the gods, whoever's out there better have a damn fucking good reason for waking me up!" He staggered toward the door, a string of curses slipping through his clenched teeth. His fingers gripped the handle with a white-knuckled hand before he yanked it open, the force behind the motion betraying his simmering frustration.
Opening the door, Caesar's words caught in his throat, his eyes blinking in surprise as his gaze fell on a face he hadn't expected to see. "Ursula?"
Ursula was, an odd girl, to say the very least…. She rarely spoke to anyone, especially men. Even when spoken to, she remained silent. Most of the time, she could be found working in the apothecary in the nearby villages or running errands for her aging grandmother. But beyond that, she was hardly ever seen outside her house.
"Uhh, hey," he blinked, momentarily dumbfounded. Ursula stood on his doorstep, her thin frame wrapped in a simple gray cloak that looked a size too large for her. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose braid, and her pale eyes, usually downcast, were locked firmly on his.
"Crap, what do I even say? Should I just ask her what she's doing here? The poor girl must be scared out of her mind because of all the hollering I was doing."
Ursula shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands clutching the strap of the satchel slung across her shoulder. For a moment, she briefly glanced past him and into the cabin behind him before her eyes finally met his gaze again. "I… I need your help," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Caesar's brows furrowed as he leaned against the doorframe, his irritation fading into mild confusion. The girl was an oddball, and if it weren't for her young age, he would have just shrugged her off, but he might as well hear her out.
after all, he was a father once, and he wasn't going to ignore a child's plea for help.
"With what?"
Ursula hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line as she seemed to gather her courage. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her satchel, and for a moment, Caesar thought she might lose her nerve entirely. But then, she looked up at him again, her pale eyes finally managing to gather some resolve.
"It's my grandmother," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "She's… she's very sick, and I don't know what else to do. You're the only wizard in town and… and… I thought—"
Caesar straightened, his irritation fading entirely as concern took its place. He had known Ursula's grandmother for years, a kind but stubborn old woman who had always been quick to offer her herbal remedies to anyone in need. If she was sick enough that Ursula was asking for help, it had to be serious.
"Easy now, take a deep breath. Don't worry, I've got you," he said gently, his voice softening. "Tell me, what's wrong with her?"
"Last night, while we were preparing the bonfire for the village festival, she started acting… strangely," Ursula said, her voice low and trembling. "At first, she was just mumbling to herself, but then she began to panic as if she were terrified of something only she could see. I tried to calm her down, but it only got worse."
She paused, her fingers tightening around the strap of her satchel as she took a shaky breath. "I called for help, and the nearby guards managed to restrain her before she hurt herself, but then… she just collapsed. She's been unconscious ever since. No matter what we've tried, nothing has worked. She just won't wake up."
Caesar's frown deepened, and he crossed his arms as he listened intently. The description of Ursula's grandmother's condition struck him as odd, as it didn't sound like any illness he was familiar with, at least not one of the natural varietys.
But the conditions did sound very similar to those of a person who was being haunted by an obsessive stalker.
"Was your grandmother, by any chance, suffering from weight loss, bruises appearing around her body, or having a lot of nightmares?"
Ursula blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden change in topic, but after a moment of thought, she nodded hesitantly. "Yes... now that you mention it, she's been losing weight for the past few weeks. Not much, but enough for me to notice. I didn't think much of it at first, but now…" She trailed off, her pale eyes filled with worry.
"By the gods, damn it! There goes my quiet afternoon."
Caesar sighed deeply, rubbing his temples in frustration before turning back to Ursula, his voice shifting to a more serious tone. "Alright, listen up. It sounds like your grandmother is being haunted by a spirit. It has had a lot of names over the ages, but here in the western borders, we typically call this type of spirit an obsessive stalker."
Caesar stepped back from the door, gesturing for Ursula to come inside. "Come on in," he said, his voice softening as he continued, "Essentially, it's born from a strong, unresolved attachment or desire that someone had before they died. I don't know what your grandma did to her or him, but now we have to get rid of them."
End of acts 2