"Despite the Saint residing here, there are so many delinquents. Evil, cruel beings. They don't fear the afterlife, do they?" A high-pitched voice held out a newspaper, walking pompously. Her hair was shoulder-length and brown, and her eyes were a warm brown. She wore a short-sleeved collared shirt with a brown vest over it, and simple black pants. This was Veind.
"People like this believe they are stronger or better than the Gods. Can you believe that?" Ailen laughed. He was wearing a dark green collared shirt beneath the tan cloak, with brown buttons at his collar, which he had worn during his brief battle.
How rude...
Cherva scrunched his eyebrows.
I'm right here, and they have the gall to talk about me.
He was transported by the two of them, with them carrying him.
"She needs to come out here and beat all of them up by herself!" Veind spoke fervently, rolling up a sleeve.
"Haha, no way. That's probably so much work. Shes managed to halt the barbaric territory for so long. That's pretty impressive."
"Barbaric... territories?"
"North of Gonteno, there's this kind... quasi-civilized group of barbarians, that all just bundle up their, indulging in their brutality and animalistic behavior together. It's almost considered a nation. But on most maps, it's just labeled as unmarked land. No one would recognize such a crazy group of people."
"Huh. That's interesting. Why doesn't the Saint just... roll them over, though? Seems like a pretty useless saint to me."
"You shouldn't say such things about a Saint, Veind."
"... So it looks like everyone, but Elyse, has left Venichian?"
"I guess so."
These guys are talking about nonsense... Cherva groaned inwardly.
They're ruining my plans! I must travel the world, kill people, and get stronger. That's my goal! I've managed to rack up a bit of a bounty here, and if I get caught, I'll definitely be executed.
The bumpy travel stomped for Cherva. He was suddenly thrown onto the ground.
"Agh... the bounty really isn't that much. I don't care what happens to you. If you die, it's really a bonus for the world. So... farewell."
Cherva heard their footsteps slowly fade away as he wiggled.
D-Damn it!
How could someone be so cruel!
Basically leaving me here to die, god damn it! Treating me like this... It's punishable by death! But I can't move.
I can't cast anything... what's up with these ropes!?
Damn it!
This is evil!
Leaving me to die for no reason!!
Time passed, and he could tell because it was getting colder. Luckily, it was one of the warmer months, so it wasn't incredibly cold. However, the position he was in was very uncomfortable.
He was beginning to get tired.
And thus, he fell asleep.
. . .
. .
.
"Cherva..."
"Cherva! Have you fallen asleep?"
"...Huh?"
Cherva's eyes slowly opened to an entirely new scenery. To be fair, anything that wasn't darkness was an entirely new scenery right now. But this is something he had never seen before.
Currently, he was sitting in a chair too large for him. Comfortable red cushioning, with a firm wooden structure. He looked beyond. He sat in a grandiose dining room. In front of him was an oblong white wooden dining table with a very faux bois pattern that stretched across the impressively sized room.
"Wha..?" he was still disoriented.
He smelt the fresh food in front of him, a very tender-looking steak, on a silver plate, decorated with a baked potato filled with butter, cheese, and bits of bacon. Near those two delicacies, asparagus was generously sprinkled with fine salt. The saliva-inducing aroma entered Cherva's nose.
"Oh... dear."
"Perhaps the boy is still dizzy from the swordsmanship. Shall I hire a more gentle one?"
"Nonsense, father. He needs to be roughened up. That'll get him nice and strong."
Chatter ensued from a bunch of people who resembled Cherva, with slight differences like hair color, eye spacing, nose shape, or even eye color, sitting around the table.
Is this... my family?
He looked at the wall. Several guards stood, armed well. Hung on the wall were large portraits of people who, of course, resembled him.
I was just tied up.
What's going on?
"Are you alright, Cherva?" his father asked him. He sat across from him, a fork dug into his meal that was quite similar to Cherva's own. There was a face of concern on his face.
"Yes... Yes, I'm fine. I'm... thinking on a dream I had."
"Dream?"
"Quite the horrible dream, yes."
He stared at his palms, now devoid of any major calluses or any burn marks that he would've gotten from his previous fight, using his hand as a weapon.
There were no scars along his forearm, either.
I'm not understanding this well.
Dinner at the family quickly resolved, and he was sent to his bedroom. Which was equally beautiful and regal. He collapsed into his large bed.
This is all quite strange.
I am Cherva de Verucas, son of King Derkin de Verucas and Queen Imalra de Verucas of the Kingdom of Bendotia. My favorite pastime is fencing with my classmates, and I attend Smith's Prestigious Academy for Royalty.
My favorite meal is baked potato, and my favorite color is blue. I'm a relatively sociable person.
But... in this dream of mine. I'm still Cherva Verucas. Fatherless, motherless child. With a favorite pastime of murder, and a strange, unwarranted disdain for women. I've never gone to school. As a matter of fact, I was a slave for most of my life.
And my favorite color is putrid red!
Cherva quietly shuddered in his bed.
Yes... Yes... that was certainly a dream. I am not a barbarian... I am a civilized schoolboy.
See, my memories of the dream are already starting to fade. I'd better off going back to sleep.
. . .
. .
.
"How impressive!" Alion de Bruche clapped. The blonde stared at the third arrow piercing into the marked wood, striking the red dot centered on the log.
The weather was incredibly pleasant. Dry, warm air. A fair sunny day.
Cherva stared at the wooden log with one eye closed, retracting his bow.
A white horse accompanied the blonde boy. Alion hung his beautiful blue coat on the tall fence that surrounded the archery range that Cherva practiced in. Underneath was a grey waistcoat.
"I'm aware that it's impressive."
"Are you planning on competing, Cherva?" a third voice joined the conversation.
Almi van Trotride wore a thicker coat, her hands in her pockets. She was a brown-skinned woman with loose curly hair. Almi appeared dainty, exuding regality without even trying.
"No way."
Cherva concluded. He walked over toward the wood, pulling the arrows out with a heavy grunt.
"Even if there's an opportunity to get money?" Alion grinned. Cherva gave him an irritated eye before hopping over the fence with even more impressive athleticism.
"Money's not much of a concern to me. I'm well off. I would like to reach the peak of archery, then surpass that."
He landed gracefully. Alion rolled his eyes.
"No way. Just because you're a part of the royal family and you're destined for the crown, it doesn't mean that there's a 100% chance of you remaining in that position. And for that, you need to have some kind of Plan B," Almi added, "like how I've invested in three estates over the weekend."
Cherva's eyes lit up, his brows raised.
"Ah, that reminds me.
At this point, the trio sat on a metal bench just a few meters away from the archery range. Cherva completed his sentence.
"I had the most terrible nightmare. Where I was nothing, possessed nothing, no good aspirations but to kill and slaughter. I was a monster."
"Whoa... Up until now, the only serious nightmare you ever brought up to me was Iva de Tiruthenu rejecting you in front of the entire academy," Alion teased.
At this, Almi snickered.
Cherva's right cheek twitched in irritation.
"This is to be taken seriously. It was such a peculiar dream. Although, as I speak of it now, I seem to forget more and more about it."
Almi noted, with one raised finger, "My father tells me that if I forget it, then it's not important to me."
"I don't think that applies to dreams, though— agh! I can feel myself forgetting more and more."
Almi sighed, "Cherva, you're the only person who would complain about forgetting dreadful information."