Dreams and Interrogation

Unfolding Conspiracy (rough draft v2)

Wrapped in a soft, velvety robe, Jacob lay in his chamber's lavish bed, staring at the intricate designs on the ceiling. His mind was restless, replaying the night's events as his eyes flicked to the door, half-expecting another attempt on his life. The warm bath had relaxed his muscles but did little to quiet the storm inside him.

Eventually, exhaustion won over anxiety. As his eyes fluttered closed, he drifted into a vivid dream. He was back in Terranova, in his ancestral home, but he was not the Jacob that Erik knew—not the warrior prince or even the radiant Eldralorian noblewoman. In his dream, he was a woman, confined to the narrow norms and stifling roles of Terranovan society.

People, faces blurred and indistinct, pointed and whispered, their eyes filled with judgment and pity. He was clad in the heavy, cumbersome garb considered "appropriate" for women—layers of silk and lace that felt more like shackles. His very identity felt suffocated, reduced to society's limiting perspective of gender.

Just as the pressure seemed unbearable, a door opened before him. Erik stepped through, radiant, his hand outstretched in invitation. "Come with me," he said, a promise of love and freedom in his eyes.

As their fingers intertwined, the scene shifted. The oppressive walls melted away, replaced by the soaring trees of Eldralore, their leaves a kaleidoscope of colors. He was free, transformed back into his Eldralorian guise, and it felt not just like acceptance but like jubilation.

The dream-version of Erik spun him around, their laughter echoing in the forest, and Jacob felt a surprising burst of genuine joy. It was then he realized the dream was showing him something he hadn't let himself acknowledge: hope, and a desire for a shared future with Erik.

Meanwhile, in another wing of the palace, Prince Erik sat across from the restrained assassin, he looked worse for wear, the Eldralorians did not belive in the type of **** TerraNova or Sableheim did but theirs was none the less effective. They belived in being absolute angels to their lawful citizens with few serious laws on the books, leaving most correction to come from family and customs, but absolute devils to the few that would break the law and damage Eldalore. In Eldralore everyone was put to use, nothing was wasted, those in this assassin's position would be shown the life of service that awaits them should they refuse to talk, a life in his case worse than ****. If they talked they would be given leniency. His options we thus: remain silent and have his tongue and teeth removed with limbs permanently bound, dressed in garments that signified the lowest of low brothel workers, those on permanent punishment labor from the crown, and mounted as a free fuck hole in the front room of the busiest brothel in the kingdom, the one that served others on punishment labor in the mines, the free men paid to do the same, and those that watched/directed the work of the mines. He would be there until he died of old age, He would be considered nothing more than an item to be used, only able to eat what was shot down his throat by his users and only cleaned when he was to dirty to use, to clean him he would not be let out of his restraints, he would instead be attached to a wench the would lower him into a river its rushing water cleaning him, he would be put under and raised until clean and often enough to avoid drowning if barley, then the cycle would repeat. Maybe the royal court healer would visit, not to bring any comfort to him, but to heal him enough to continue and make make modification to make him a better toy for the others. On the other side, if he talked they would allow his capture pill he had taken to finish its work, having already given him enough antidote to delay its effects. Erik's eyes were cold and calculating as he explained all of this. He leaned in, "Who sent you? Why target Jacob?"

The assassin smirked. Lips tinged blue from the suicide pill he'd ingested moments before. "You think you're safe? Even if I fail, others will come. This plan—killing Jacob and framing you—well lets just say my Messor is very fond of redundancy, adapting, and persevering. " He clearly meant to talk and die but wanted to spite both his Messorfor sending him on this mission and the one before him.

"Speak plainly. What are you saying?" Erik insisted.

"Our king—our nobles—they're entertaining other ways to break your alliance. If diplomacy fails, sheer **** will take its course. They're even considering buying enough mercenaries to wage a full-scale war."

And then, the assassin convulsed, his smirk freezing into a haunting grimace. His eyes rolled back, and he fell limp, dead.

Erik and his assistant rushed over having been sure they had given the correct antidote in the correct dosage. Only to discover that the one he had taken earlier wasn't his only one and there was a cracked class marble that appeared to have been sown into this cheek, using his silence during Erik's explanation and his little speech to hide ripping the hollow glass marble out and crushing it open.

Erik, a knot of dread in his stomach, rushed to his father's chamber. He recounted the assassin's dying words. "We must go to war, Father. This is a direct affront!"

King Aelred sighed deeply, his eyes heavy with years of diplomatic tightropes. "My son, our alliance is like an archway—beautiful but fragile. Even with Terranova, we only match Sableheim's strength if they were to call in their mercenaries. We're not ready for an outright war."

"But we can't let them get away with this!"

"We won't," the king assured. "We'll play the fool while preparing in the shadows. We will repel every attack, every scheme, and use any penalties we extract from Sableheim to bolster our defenses. Terranova must be made aware as well. We'll marshal our resources until we're ready to crush them—once and for all."

As Erik left his father's chamber, the weight of their situation bore down on him. But intertwined with that dread was a sliver of hope, nurtured by the newfound love he'd discovered. War was coming, but maybe, just maybe, it was also a chance for rebirth—for their nations and for him and Jacob.

Unbeknownst to him, away in his own chamber, Jacob awoke from his dream with a similar mix of dread and hope.