they were just in conversation, everything was going fine. Dramen and Rohan were nothing but pleased with each other as the two brothers in arm were simply watching the wonderful display before them. Dramen had been awaiting the arrival of Celia so they could go enjoy this little date of theirs, rare nowadays but enjoyable when possibly. he had felt so bad, since he seemed to entranced with work lately, going as far as asking her to view the many letters he had received to gather the important information from them to report to Azrael. now, it was his time to truly treat her to a nightâs full of splendor. yet, his vision was anything but wonderful.Â
it was like the man was asleep, and the festivities was nothing but a dream and he suddenly found himself in a world where his bestest of friends were on trial once more. Yet, unlike last time, the heads of his most beloved rolled to his feet with no mercy or sign of protest. the sobbing pichler women were dragged away as he watched aleksei, varian, azrael, viggo, and then finally gilchrist and celia lay their head on their stone headrest. Gilchrist had that same horrific smile of joy, with his final words being âfinish the jobâ before his head got decapitated. Dramen suddenly felt a pair of hands restrain him, since they could sense Dramenâs uneasiness suddenly begin turning into anger. then celia had to go, the final victim in this horrible massacre. it was happening again and dramen could feel himself trying to push forward. last time, lumina had done something before it got to this point but now was Dramenâs turn. And yet, it seemed his argument and pleas were for naught when the axe fell down on his loverâs head. A king, listening to no reason didnât even have the mercy to let Dramen finish before the order was given.Â
Then, almost as if to show Dramen who was truly in charge, her head as brought over to her and given to him.Â
âWelcome to your new promotion, Dramen Zamfir. Now, I need you to go deliver the news to their families how we are so dreadfully sorry their traitorous members were but hope nothing but loyalty from there. a merciful death was all we could afford them, quick. not as messy as it could have been.â
As if that werenât enough, when he glanced up to the executioner who had brought his loverâs head to him, he had seen nothing but the face of an old friend, rohan. a stupid smile on that manâs face could haunt him now, and then he awoke. Rohan was no longer dressed as an executioner but as a lord, and yet the fury in Dramenâs blood didnât stop him. He had heard of Malsovia and its ârighteousnessâ. He lived there for a brief period of time and yet, as time went on, Dramen couldnât help but question what it meant to be devout, to be meek and humble and bow to a crown that seemed to have no care for anything. It was as if suddenly, all the possible negative emotions he had tried to repress for so long and reason through began to bubble to the surface. Rohan being somehow the cause for it all.Â
Only those who have watched Dramen closely could see how Dramen quickly buckled his feet to the ground as it began to rumble, his hands clenching into fists, as his previous smile seemed to disappear into a scowl. Rohanâs face had matched his own, as it seemed both of them had finally come to an awful realization that the other was now their enemy. Whatever vision given to them triggered the two and now, they had no isolated field where they could train like before. Casualities didnât matter, as it seemed the only people they cared for had already died already.Â
yet, dramen wasnât aware that since coming back to reality, there still loomed the idea that Celia existed and was in face, still meant to be meeting him.Â
