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<span class="mu-i">"No!!!"</span> You cry out in a strangled moan, thrashing an arm up with your shadowed oponent, wasting precious moments before half-realising you are merely tangled up in a blanket.
<span class="mu-i">"Milord!"</span> It takes you a moment to register the boy standing at the foot of your bed, a sheathed sword in one hand and the other held out in the same way a stableboy might calm a jittery stallion.
<span class="mu-i">"M...Mikail?"</span> You ask blearily, tiredness already seeping back in now that your heart has stopped racing.
<span class="mu-i">"All's well Brother Rousseau, you needn't come in. No, we're fine. Thank you kindly, holy sir."</span> You hear your squire speaking at the doorway, before turning back to you. The sheathed blade is now nowhere to be seen. <span class="mu-i">"Rest, sire. You're safe."</span>
Safe? Yes... Yes, that's right. You can feel the humidity now, and hear the ocean waves. You're in Cathagi, a guest of Kyria Eustace on the Stratiokas Caste's island home. You're not in any immediate danger, not here at least, and home is thousands of miles and an entire sea away. You're fine. Everyone is fine.
<span class="mu-i">"Rest easy milord."</span> Your faithful squire picks up the flung blanket from the floor, the concern in his eyes now merely attentive to the details incumbent with his duties. <span class="mu-i">"You'll have forgotten this by morning, I'm sure."</span>
Even as you hear the words the details of your troubling dream begin to slip from your mind like mist through your fingers, but the memory of Mikail's troubled expression in your waking moments lingers a little longer before your thoughts fully turn to the present.
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> "... Mikail. My clothes, and those sandals." You go for a quiet walk in the early hours of the morning, alone, watching the Sun rise on this Stratiokas. Still troubled and unable find rest, you find a peaceful spot to pray. [Divine]
>"Cain on the Cross... That is the last time I have khave before bed. Well squire, fancy an early start to our morning constitutionals?" You try to shake your unease with a jest and distraction. Combat has always cleared the mind in your case. You spar at the nearby palaestra, first with Mikail and then with another early riser from among the locals. [Hearty]
> "Reginae have mercy on us... Mikail, what time is it?" There is not even the hint of of light outside. You try to slip back to sleep, and even get a few more hours in before dawn comes. This waking nightmare will pass, and day will come again. You dream of family and rest easy. [Idealist] (Avoid Tired modifier)