Who Lies in the End?

Ch 50: 23 "Keep the raisins, I'll keep you."

art by: TalkativePeanuts

Fuck the future. Fuck the world. Fuck the village. Fuck people in general.

He felt like he was suffocating in the swamp village and all the people around him were not helping. All the careful looks or cautious words paired with the intent to help or hide made his head spin. It felt like he was part of some spectacle for people to watch and make opinions on, and that made him angry.

That's not even mentioning the fact that he hasn't been able to get his thoughts in order for the past couple of days. There were too many voices, too many rules, and too many things he felt like he had to do. Well, fuck all of that. He refused to bend himself to someone else's expectations.

So, Dream was just gonna do what he wanted.

That thread of thought led him to create an adventure bag packed with supplies and snacks. He borrowed the Ender Chest in Fundy's base to grab a talisman that he now wore next to the Creative Block. Once he had everything ready, he scared Bad by dropping from a balcony as the advisor walked outside. Their conversation was brief, and Dream didn't linger around for Bad to argue. The advisor got this one warning and would have to deal with it.

After the two hours of prep, Dream was perched up in the rafters of a large conference room in the mansion. He kept to the shadows as best he could, and fortunately, the group of people below him were too caught up in their conversation to even notice him. There were a total of eight bodies sitting at the dark oak table, each with a set of papers splayed in front of them.

The conversation was tense and serious as they talked about the village's upkeep. Civilian concerns, road repairs, trade routes, taxes, the latest news from the capital, and more mundane topics were drawn out in conversations that Dream thought could've been solved in ten minutes; however, each councilman felt the need to take ten minutes throwing in their two cents about how it was a good idea or a bad decision. They would even argue amongst each other until Duke George spoke up, ending the debate.

Dream had never seen George more bored in the few days he had known him. The duke was wearing the full royal attire with the extra bells and whistles, giving him a proper air of authority. Even that stupid mushroom added to the commanding presence the duke was supposed to have.

If any of the councilmen bothered to actually watch their duke, they would notice the dull color of his eyes or the slump in his shoulders. They would notice that he wasn't looking at them, but instead out the window. Dream could tell they were mistaking George's stoicism for proper etiquette and it drove Dream insane.

It took everything in the outlaw's body to not just drop down mid-meeting and cause a scene. The intent would be to spice things up, but he knew it would only anger Geroge. It would be best that he just wait this meeting out, that way George wouldn't be upset later.

Two. Fucking. Hours.

That was how long the council went on, and Dream was fidgeting up in the rafters. The joy he had as the councilmen finally exited the room was unmatched. It was only made better when George stayed in the room to answer some lingering questions.

Dream shuffled along the rafters until he was above the door and waited. The last council member nodded to George as they finished the conversation. They exited the door first, but before George could follow after, Dream jumped down, slamming the door shut.

The sound of George's scream was rivaled by the wheezing of Dream's laughter.

Immediately, there was pounding on the door, but Dream kept it shut, "My duke, are you alright?!"

George had a hand placed over his racing heart. His breathing was heavy, but that didn't stop him from glaring at the hysterical outlaw, "I'm fine: it's just Dream."