Realm Lord
Chapter 90: The Terror of Slumber

Chapter 90: The Terror of Slumber

They all individually inspected every painting in the hall one by one, their movements becoming increasingly sluggish as the hours wore on. Each golden frame was scrutinized, each brushstroke analyzed for hidden meaning.

After what felt like an eternity of searching for every minuscule detail—examining backgrounds for unusual objects, studying the expressions of each royal family member, noting the furniture and decorations—they all finally finished and gathered in the center of the great hall to confer. The weight of disappointment hung in the air as they converged at one of the grand tables.

Kay dropped heavily onto the table and slumped his head down tiredly. The wooden creaked under his sudden weight as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. Aziel sat as ont the edge of the table as well, leaning backwards onto his hands, releasing a long, frustrated sigh that echoed in the vast space.

Jake and Jonas remained standing, positioning themselves behind Lara, their postures suggesting they were too restless to sit despite their obvious fatigue. Arthur stood himself just across from Lara.

Lara massaged her temples briefly before addressing the group, her voice slightly hoarse from the dust they’d been breathing all day. "Anyone find anything of use?"

Kay lazily brought his head up only to shake it no, his bloodshot eyes revealing how thoroughly he had searched. The gesture was slow, defeated.

"Nadda," Aziel replied quietly, his usual enthusiasm completely absent. He absently traced a finger along the wood grain of the table, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Jake shifted his weight and shook his head. "Sorry, Lara." His voice carried genuine regret, as though he had personally failed her.

Finally, Jonas offered a slight smile, attempting to lighten the mood despite their collective disappointment. "Nothing here either, although seeing all these pictures of those two young girls is really making me miss my daughter." He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with homesickness, his eyes growing distant as thoughts of home briefly transported him away from the dusty castle.

Lara reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm, squeezing gently before addressing the group again.

"Well, it looks like this room was a bust. Let’s take a break to eat and move on." Her practical approach was why she was her group’s leader, always focusing on the next step rather than dwelling on setbacks.

Aziel’s eyes widened noticeably at the mention of food, his stomach giving an audible growl that made Jake smirk. But before they could reach for their packs, Arthur’s voice cut through the momentary lightness.

"Actually, I did see something, but I don’t know if it means anything." His words were tentative, almost apologetic for interrupting their break.

Everyone turned their heads toward Arthur, the sudden focus making him fidget slightly. The silence in the hall seemed to amplify as they awaited his next words.

"Well... go on," Lara prompted, leaning forward slightly, a spark of hope rekindling in her tired eyes.

Arthur cleared his throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet hall. "It’s just, those sheepmen were in every single painting, isn’t that a little odd? I can get being close with your guards, but putting them in family paintings?" He paused, doubt creeping into his voice. "...I don’t know, it could be nothing."

Lara’s gaze drifted upward as she considered his observation, the gears of her mind visibly turning behind her contemplative expression. After a moment, she let out an exhausted sigh that seemed to carry much weight.

"Sadly, totems can’t be living people, so that information isn’t much use to us." The words fell heavily in the space between them, crushing Arthur’s small hope of having contributed something valuable.

He looked down at the table, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "...Oh, my bad."

Kay, noticing Arthur’s dejection, leaned over and slapped him on the back with enough force to pop Arthur’s head up in surprise. The unexpected gesture broke the awkward moment like a stone through glass.

"You’re fine, you didn’t know," Kay reassured him, his voice carrying genuine warmth rather than condescension.

Arthur smiled appreciatively and nodded his head in acknowledgment. Kay nodded back before turning toward Lara, his stomach making its own demands known. "...Now, let’s eat."

Arthur couldn’t help but giggle at Kay’s single-minded focus on food, the small moment of levity releasing some of the tension that had built up throughout the day. The sound of laughter, brief though it was, seemed to brighten the ancient hall momentarily.

They unpacked their provisions and ate in companionable silence, occasionally sharing observations about the castle or Lara’s group reminiscing about previous expeditions. Their meal was simple—dried meat and a few preserved fruits—but after hours of concentrated work, it tasted like a feast.

Soon they were done and ready to continue, their spirits somewhat renewed by food and rest. They gathered their equipment with heavy anticipation and proceeded to the next room, their footsteps echoing through area’s that hadn’t heard human voices in generations.

But there was nothing to be found there either—just more empty chambers with faded tapestries and dusty furniture. Nor in the next room, or the next. They checked five rooms before calling it a night in the fifth, which happened to be a bedroom. This one contained only two proper beds, so many of them were forced to sprawl out on the floor.

Arthur and Aziel, who both had enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in real beds the previous night, were among these unlucky few now laying on the hard stone floor with nothing but a scratchy carpet underneath them. The threadbare rug did little to cushion the unyielding stone, and Arthur shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t press painfully against his hipbones or shoulders.

Sleep was evading Arthur—or it would be more accurate to say he was evading sleep, terrified of what might await him once his eyes closed. His parents... Luke... the wounds were still fresh, raw and painful in his consciousness. Just because he was doing his best not to acknowledge them during waking hours didn’t mean they weren’t there, festering beneath the surface of his thoughts.

During the day, he could forget such things to a point, could push the memories aside by focusing on survival, on getting stronger, on the mission at hand. The constant activity and the presence of his companions kept the darkness at bay.

But at night, when his body craved rest and his mind began to drift, he was forced to face these wounds. The silence and stillness stripped away his distractions, leaving him vulnerable to the memories that circled like vultures, waiting for him to lower his guard.

And that terrified him more than any physical danger they had faced. For many hours, Arthur fought against sleep, his eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling, counting the stones in the wall, listening to the soft breathing of his companions—anything to stay awake.

Eventually, exhaustion won the battle. Despite his resistance, Arthur’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier until he could fight no longer. His consciousness began to slip away, and he drifted unwillingly into the terror of slumber, where no walls could protect him from the ghosts of his past.