Perchance from the depths of the churning data, some inkling of logic would be spewed. Oh, how desperately he wanted some measure of sense within this chaos. Everything tasted with an undeniable flavor of improvisation. He hated that. Or specifically, the Caster innate to him, disliked it. But... what could be done?
Nothing.
There existed no precedent for this moment—no data to draw upon for future decisions. So logically, within the framework of already decided acts, this was an acceptable outcome. As long as it didn't spiral into unimaginable madness. So... for now, this was good.
A hand tapped softly atop his shoulder, sudden—at least, the person expected as much. A man! Merrin reacted little.
He knew the source from the depths of his wholeness. In this world, unlike the Greyworld, which fitted within his totality as a sort of omniscient force, here, the effects were weaker. He didn't know. He sensed.
Perhaps... he guessed, when deeper mastery over the Dream Castle was acquired, the sensing part of the deal would be elevated. Then... he would know. Ah... would that make me some god in people's dreams? He sighed. More godhead.
Nonetheless, he offered attention to the toucher—whoever they were. What stood behind him, before him now, was a spindly figure, short in comparison to the tall Orvalens. He was undoubtedly Orvalen. From the slightly grey skin, white lustrous hair, total black eyes, and perky ears, one could not deny such facts.
The man, regardless, wore a tight black shirt, fluffy sleeves that tautened around the wrists. That, furthermore, was accompanied by large, filmy black trousers. Such details were administered into Merrin's awareness. Not a coincidence. As had been learned, within the dream, beings with accurate depictions of features must have served significant roles within the dreamer's mind.
Who... by the Almighty then is this?
The man smiled—rather unnerving with that complete coverage of the eyes. The blackness still bothered him. The man, on the other hand, grinned further, a desire so observable in that trait... He wanted sameness. Thus, Merrin reciprocated as expected.
His lips beamed. "Who?"
The man cocked his head, stunned. "You ask this, surely for courtesy."
If only... Merrin shook his head, wondering briefly if such talks impacted the flowings of Orvane's dream. Did it? Or did it not?
Abrupt!
A laugh clapped from the man. "Now that is refreshing. Truly refreshing. My friend, I am Aeon... Husband to Farmir—former Highlord... No. Highlady and sister to Este."
Merrin consumed the data with a strange detachment, alien even. Odd, how the Caster became unnatural towards the ponderings of information. "So you are related to my Master?"
Aeon smiled. "Observables."
"Ah," Merrin exclaimed. "I suppose she learnt that from you."
"Hardly." He waved. "She learnt it from Farmir—don't mistake it with Favnir. Those two couldn't be more different."
"Would never," Merrin said and sank partially into the stirring seas of Caster mentation. There, he revised the acquired knowledge—Farmir was a formal Highlady, equivalent or greater than the Highness of the Lowlander people. And she had died during the Scattering—whatever that may be. This, in essence, birthed the hate Este had for humans.
A hate that has changed recently. Now... she harbors the negative notions for the Orvalen... Likely, a targeted emotion. For who... Merrin sensed the Highlord Favnir could be credited for that. In the end, a mother must protect her children.
Similar to Orvane... huh.
"I have heard of you," Aeon said, arms crossed behind.
Is he imitating me? Merrin thought and said, "Nothing bad, I suppose."
"Nothing Fatal." He added simply, "But I hear talks that you are a traitorous Attendant."
Ah, I see. Merrin offered no expression to the words. What they were was expected. Ultimately, his actions during the ball could only be viewed as some attempt at undermining one's master. It mattered little if he had refused the reward... He had betrayed his master. That was a done deal.
What happens now? Would he fight me for her honor or something? Humans would.
Aeon heaved. "Lighten up. All simulations of an Attendant and Master relationship often end in such outcomes. It's mundane at this point. Always the attendants feeling unappreciated for their work: no reward for the endless hours working the techs, the research. All of that, just for their masters to acquire endless fame and fortune. Ah, that would drive anyone mad."
"I see."
"But you... You broke the pattern of these events."
"Did I?"
"Yes." Aeon said, "You refused. Unimaginable. You refused a Spear of Heaven, perhaps even a great Castle, respect, power, fame, that, and even friends in the Council. All that." He pointed at Merrin. "You refused."
Perhaps your things would have had more sway if they were real... He kept those thoughts to himself.
"How?" Aeon urged. "How did you do it?"
"For my Master." Merrin shrugged. "My Master would have lost her work, her desires. Perhaps Favnir would have forced the Research into the world. My master wants her secret. I simply did what I could to protect it."
"AMAZING!" Aeon screamed. "Farmir would have loved you."
"Maybe."
Aeon smiled. "So what now?"
"What?"
"What do you plan to do next?" He asked. "I'm sure Este despises you for your actions, and likely so do the other Attendants who would claim righteousness. Words like, 'I would never have done that.' Fools. All of them. Yes, we are Orvalen, called Adepthes by the humans, and greater than them. Yet even then, our actions do have a drop of a predictable quality to them."
Adepthes by the humans? Merrin circled through the word. Adepthes—seems like a mixture of old tongue and another. Adept, likely. But Adept at what? And humans were the ones who gave them this name?
That was anticipated in a way. Eastos was vast. Words were countless. Even the servs, often called the eyes of the Almighty, were likely another to a disparate group. In this case, humans accepted Adepthes in place of Orvalen. Why?
Aeon regarded Merrin for a moment and said, "Even beasts can enjoy second chances with the right begging... And although I might not look it, I am an excellent beggar."
Hmm? Merrin locked eyes. "What do you intend to do?"
He chuckled. "Please... If I could get Farmir to fall in love with me, surely I could get her sister to forgive a simple Attendant who is so clearly in love with her master."
What?
Aeon smiled deeper. "No need to say anything. As I said, we Orvalen do have a predictable quality to our actions. And I know yours was righteousness. It was selfishness: a desire to be recognized by your Master. Why? Well, because you love her."
Now this took a turn. Merrin unfurled both arms, rearing them defensively. "Wait... I think you are mistaking something."
"Ah... you even blush. Such a human trait to have."
Merrin rubbed his temples.
This is wrong... This would disrupt the dream.
He looked into the eyes of the fervent man.
But then again, what if this was the truth of this Alurian character? An Attendant in love with his Master. That would explain the closeness and unexplainable trust. Mist it! I don't have time for this!
The world trembled—this time, Aeon tripped in the quaking.
He felt it! Merrin started. The Quaking, as he knew it, was a manifestation of the dream—not an effect within it. As such, no figure within it could sense or see it... But Aeon did.
Which meant...
This was a quake innate to the dream! Something was happening!
Aeon frowned, worried. "What was that?"
Merrin regarded him. "Este!"
Panic flashed across the man's face.
Good... That should keep him away from talks of love.