That night, after a long day of battles, of loss, of stressful evacuations, and of future dangers, Simon lay his head down to sleep. He improved his stats as he lay in bed, feeling not a small amount of guilt as he used the Experience he gained from the loss of a city to make himself stronger. His new stats are:

STR

25 (+5, -110 Experience)

DEX

11

VIT

18 (+4, -62 Experience)

INT

14

WIT

15 (+2, -27 Experience)

PER

10

CHA

14

LCK

4

He thought to himself about possibly boosting his Luck stat, given that its low total could possibly be the cause of every bad thing that's happened to him thus far... or maybe that was just his superstition talking, and maybe he could outfight any problems his low Luck might cause. Who could say.

After a long time spent with his stats, Simon finally fell asleep.

Simon's dreams were... different, that night. Simon was a man whose dreams were usually forgettable, and those that weren't were simply weird. But tonight was different.

Simon came to deep within a misty rainforest. The mists were deep and thick, creating a blinding haze he could barely see through. Simon reached out, and felt blindly for the way forward, his hands stopping on trees that felt alien to him. These trees were far, far harder than any steel Simon had ever wielded, so much so that Simon found himself believing that if he were to strike the tree with his own halberd, that his halberd would bend or shatter under the force. Simon thought better than to test, but could not even if he wanted to- he was completely unarmed and unarmored, equipped only with his leisure clothes from his time as a baron. Seeing no better option, Simon continued to press forward, deeper into the forest.

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Simon traveled forward an unknowable amount of time. He felt his speed pick up and slow down, and he felt the road stretch and shrink as he walked upon it. But after some time in the dreamy haze, Simon collided face-first with a stone structure. Simon felt no pain, likely due to the dream, but was hurtled backwards by the force of the impact, far greater than one would expect for such a collision. He picked himself up, brushed himself off, and took in what lay before him. A great stone tower, constructed from a reddish-pink rock he had never seen before, stretched upwards as far as his eyes could perceive through the deep misty haze, which was surprisingly far, for the mist had parted in the wake of this great tower. At the base of the tower, where Simon stood, there were a pair of doors carved from the stone, which begged Simon to enter deeper. And so he obliged.

The interior of the tower was a winding spiral staircase of intricate and artistic nature. The grooves of the steps were carefully carved with detailed etchings, with such great ornamentation that Simon found his own former castle paling in comparison. All along the walls that rose upwards as far as the eye could see- for the mist was not present within the tower- were etchings of similar nature, elegant spirals that curved and curled upwards and downwards and across all the faces of the tower's interior. Simon basked in the wonder of it all. He let the apparent age of the tower wash over him, appreciating the ancient powers that must have constructed a tower so vast and so large. But eventually, curiosity took hold, and Simon stepped onto the bottom step of the tower.

Simon did not feel himself ascend the tower, only that he had arrived at the destination. He found himself alone at the heart of a great forest glen, flowers he could not recognize blooming all across the soil beneath him. He stood in a single clearing among the forest, and at the heart of this clearing stood a tall stone obelisk, taller than he was but not taller than the canopy of the forest above. Simon, compelled by some invisible force, approached the obelisk, not that he resisted the force in any way. He lay somewhere between free will and controlled, his actions seemingly directed by an outsider but not wholly alien to his own wishes. The ground was damp, and the air smelled of freshly-passed rain. Simon placed his hand on the obelisk, and traced its grooves and the etched carvings along its faces. Spirals had been carved along the length of the obelisk, twirling in patterns that brought Simon unease. But as Simon's hand passed over the heart of the obelisk's form, he found that the spirals gave way to letters, words he could understand. He took a step back, and read the inscription:

"Here lie Holden Cathryll, Brother-in-Arms to hero Luden Gilcrest. Buried upon sanctified soil, may Luden and may Kalthior watch over him eternal."

Intelligence Check: 13

Simon passes.

Many names here that Simon recognized, each of them growing more obscure than the last. Holden Cathryll was, in fact, Simon's grandfather, a man who died on the battlefield during the revolution of Ludencrest. He was ostracized by Simon's family at the time for siding with the rebels, his claim on the throne of Rhias stripped and given to his younger brother. Luden was the hero of the last generation, for there is a hero each generation, who legends hold once journeyed to the bottom of the world and returned with the head of an unfathomable beast. When the colony of Miriore attempted to secede from Eldenvale and establish itself as its own territory, it was Luden's aid that allowed them to succeed, and thus they renamed the land to Ludencrest. Kalthior is the god of the dead, who takes the form of a town sentry. Legends say that Kalthior watches over the dead, ferrying them to his great keep, which he guards with all of his might.

Simon sighed, relaxing his brain after recalling so much information from his schooling days. Long has it been since he had to worry about things like history, the faiths, and even his own family connections. Simon sat down in the glen, and looked fondly upon the monument. He had never known his grandfather, and from the way Simon's family spoke of him, it was a shame he never had a chance to meet the man. It seemed as if the family regretted Holden's exile from the rest of the family, and wished to see him buried among the rest of the Cathryll... perhaps that was why Simon was receiving this dream, which he could tell was no ordinary dream. Simon stood up.

Holden died in Ludencrest, Simon thought to himself, and so that must be where he is buried. Now that I have the Zailiens, flying to Ludencrest should be easy! Simon smiled. He paused, holding his smile, as he glanced around the glen he found himself in. He waited for the dream to end, but end it did not. Simon tapped his foot awkwardly. He scratched the back of his head, and crossed his arms.

Now what?