"This land ... its a fine land, rich, fertile." the dreadlocked man sighs in pleasure as he surveys the vista spanning before him.

"So that's a yes then?" the young woman next to him asks, "Its a good place, isn't it?"

Behind the pair is a convoy of carriages and horses, snaking their way toward a camp being set up nearby. Men had been dispatched to cut down trees to build a palisade as well as to clear the land for crops and livestock. The dreadlocked man smiles ruefully and shakes his head in regret. As fine as this land may be, it was not the place meant for him.

"I promised to escort all of you here." the dreadlocked man demurs, "Now that's done, there are other places I need to be -"

"What other places?" the woman demands, "Are you just going to keep wandering again?"

"The demon king still needs to be stopped." the man says evenly, but his breath hitches from hesitation.

"You can't do it alone." the woman points out, "You're not strong enough."

The dreadlocked man spins about to face his companion, a scowl on his face.

"What do you expect me to do? My home is lost. I have to at least try. There's nothing left for me."

"You can build a new home. With us." the woman urges, "And in time we could become a bulwark against the demon king."

"I ..." the man wavers, his eyes watering.

"Please." the woman merely says, grabbing the man's hand and placing it squarely against her heart.

"I ... I suppose I could stay." the man sighs, a mixture of exasperation and longing, "Just for a little while."

"Thank you." the woman smiles warmly, her grip tightening on her companion's hand, "You won't regret this. I promise -"

.....

"Fuck you, Deshawn." I grumble while rubbing my temples tiredly. The headache that had been tormenting me eases a little, no doubt caused by the high collar of the maid's gown throttling my neck.

I had managed to mince my way from Ramon's office and had been making good time when the headache hit all of a sudden, causing me to space out right in front of the temple being used by the Order as their barracks in the district. I could still see the interior of the temple illuminated, despite the late hour. Say what you like about them, the Order certainly put in the time needed to do their jobs. While I had been daydreaming about the life and times of the great Deshawn, I had inadvertently blundered right next to the lion's den.

Deshawn was a man that had left his mark on this world. And that meant his spirit lingered, especially in the city that he had founded. There were tales of people sometimes spazzing out for absolutely no reason as they relive the life of Deshawn through brief waking dreams. Most of the city's residents regarded the phenomena as an urban myth, since after all no mage could ever detect the presence of Deshawn's ghost or any proof that he was haunting the city. The myth nevertheless attracted the occasional tourist who made their way to Deshawn City just for the chance of experiencing something similar. Regardless of any official debunking, the myth proved to be enduring and popular for one simple reason.

It was true. At least for a small number of people. I was proof of it.

I did not know the requirements someone needed to meet in order to experience a waking dream of Deshawn's past. But given how I am literally one of two people I know of who has the dubious honor of watching the Deshawn Play, there had to be some sort of prerequisite condition that served as a bar to entry. Otherwise every random joker would be talking about how they were whisked away into the past. I had originally began experiencing the waking dreams upon arriving in Deshawn City as a greenhorn. The dreams were rare, but the experience was troubling regardless since I would lose time whenever the Deshawn Play decided to run. A bit of investigation led me to the urban myth and to a more troubling revelation.

The only other person alive who claims to have experienced the waking dream is a tramp who has since been institutionalized at a lunatic asylum.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

So no prizes for guessing why I have been keeping the waking dreams secret from everyone around me. At best I would be regarded as a liar and at worst, I would be signing up for a one way trip to the asylum. I just hoped that whatever the precondition needed to experience the waking dreams is, it wasn't insanity. At least I don't feel insane so far. No one has complained about my lucidity or behavior either. So it should probably be alright. I'm most likely abnormally sensitive to Deshawn's spirit or something like that. Sort of like an allergy.

The base of my shoes squelch unpleasantly, leaving behind sticky red footprints as I walk. With a sinking feeling in my heart, I turn around, squinting down the road that had taken me here, eyes following the trail of footprints. Right at the junction of the road is a massive mound of fuzzy gore, flies buzzing noisily about. The sad remains of the Dire Bear after the Order Knights decided that terminating the beast with extreme prejudice was easier than recapturing it for the ringmaster.

And I had walked right through the carcass while spazzing out.

"Damn it." I curse in annoyance as my eyes take in the blood and pieces of flesh speckled all over the long dress of the maid's gown. I hope Ramon doesn't expect to get the gown back clean. I almost start brushing away the mess out of instinct before realizing that it would just spread the blood all over the sleeves of the gown as well. Nothing for it but to keep walking. I can think about cleaning the gown up after I'm out of the danger zone.

Fog descends upon the night streets of Deshawn City and the clicking of my heels on cobblestone echoes down the empty street. I steadily make my way toward the border of Temple, where a pair of Order Knights stand watch. Only one way in or out of here. So that means brazening my way through. At least I sort of pass as a mannish woman, if Ramon and Guy could be believed. Also full marks for the midnight lace veil Ramon loaned to me. My face is positively burning up with embarrassment and nervousness right now. Swallowing hard, I keep a steady pace toward the border, daring the Order Knights to stop me.

"Here goes." I mutter to myself, fingers tightly crossed.

The Order Knights immediately spot me and I sense a wave of magic cautiously brushing against my body. The probe politely retracts the moment it senses my own power and the pair of Order Knights become substantially more alert at my presence, hands steadily moving toward their weapons. But as the fog parts and the duo drink in the sight of my gown, they quickly avert their glances and step aside.

Ramon was right. The disguise worked. I have to suppress my urge to jump with joy and limit myself to nodding respectfully at the pair of Order Knights.

"Tough assignment?" one of the Knights asks, his eyes glued on the bloodstains that dot my dress as I walk past him.

Crap. The moment I talk, the game is up. I have no way of disguising my voice. Instead I merely place an index finger upon my lips, making the universal sign of silence. My heart beats in my throat as the seconds pass.

"Regards to your master." the Knight agrees sagaciously, accepting my response, letting me cross the border of Temple and reenter the main body of Deshawn City.

I walk on, putting a healthy distance between me and the Order Knights. The moment they drop out of sight, I hitch the dress up and begin to gather my strength. Its too late for the hansom cabs to be out trolling for customers and I left my horse behind at Temple. That left just one way for me to get back to the Robeur Keep.

On foot. Preferably hasted with magic.

....

?

Temple is a good hunting ground.

Lots of degenerates gather here, so the gendarme doesn't bother to patrol regularly. Plenty of money also passes hands within the squalid alleyways that make up the district, meaning a better class of person also visits. A nice, healthy selection of potential targets.

Good for whatever ails you on that particular night. Taking your exercise regularly is the most important thing after all.

Start with the easy exercises. Bums and beggars. None of which are in very good shape and can be dispatched easily. Warm ups to get the blood flowing and the body used to the exertion.

After that move on to whores. Women are generally physically weaker than men, though this lot can put up more of a fight than a bum dying of exposure. Nothing too difficult though, so its a nice way of upping the challenge. And that's the really important thing. Maintaining challenge.

Challenging yourself is the only way you can grow. The dreams were proof of that. Deshawn started as nothing, and look at what he achieved. From village bullies he moved on to bandits, then finally monsters. Deshawn challenged himself all the way and grew stronger from it.

Whores are the gateway to enforcers and pimps. Tougher, meaner prey. A bit of a spike in difficulty, but once you have been tutored by Deshawn himself, street fighting should honestly be well within your limits. And you need opponents who fight back in order to hone your techniques.

Nobles were hit and miss. Some were trained fighters and provided the experience that was needed. Others were just plain soft, a total waste of time. You needed to have a good eye to separate the brass from the muck.

There's a stirring in my chest. The slumbering potential almost ready to be unleashed. I need to choose carefully though. A poor target won't allow me to achieve the breakthrough I want. Deshawn battled a minor mage who had attacked his village. That was the catalyst that allowed him to ascend to greatness.

I need to fight a mage then?

The Order Knights are too much for me to handle though. What a conundrum. And its not as if there's plenty of such targets just roaming about at night.

But what do we have here?

I've seen him before. He works at the railyard doesn't he? As a civil mage.

He'll do.