A Castle In My Dreams

Location unknown

Telamon's dreams have been turbulent of late – constant tasks and quests have left him little time for more than simply sleep. But now he finds himself dreaming, walking along a sandy beach. Next to him ambles a tall, dark-skinned man, dressed in white breeches and a loose-fitting sailor's tunic. “Welcome back, Telamon,” the man says in a deep baritone, his teeth flashing in a broad, friendly smile. “It's been a while since I've seen you.”

Tel looks at the man in puzzlement, before awareness dawns. “...Isaak. I... didn't expect to see you here.” He looks around the beach, deserted save for himself and the deific sailor. “I'm surprised we're not on your ship.”

Isaak chuckles, and beckons for Tel to walk along with him. “We'll get there. I don't mind spending a little time on shore.” The once-man, now servitor of Eluna looks out over the sea. “But I asked to be the bearer of good news, for a change. I thought you'd appreciate it from me, and not be bowled over by my mistress.”

Telamon blushes a bit. “Thanks, I think. I pray all I have done is righteous in Her eyes.” The two walk along in companionable silence for a few minutes, leaving a trail of footprints behind them. “I take it this dream isn't just metaphor and illusion, as we're actually walking rather than being pulled forward.”

Isaak grins. “Perceptive, Telamon. Very perceptive. We're at the edge of the Dreamlands, where it presses up against the Border Ethereal. But it was important to bring you here, at least in spirit, because there's something you need to see.” The two walk around a spar of sand jutting out, stepping around a copse of trees, and Telamon comes to a stop, mouth falling open.

What he beholds is a massive castle rising from a crag of stone overlooking the sea. The stone glistens like it's been polished, and banners can be seen flying overhead. Most depict the disc-and-crescent of Eluna, but as they watch, a new one is hoisted over the central keep – this one depicting a raven perched inside a crescent. The crest of the Lupecyll-Atlons. Telamon turns to stare in confusion. “Isaak... what is this? I mean, it's gorgeous, but...”

“Indeed it is, Telamon! You look upon Leca'fi Amdamu, the Castle on the Edge of Waking.” Isaak seems pleased with Tel's stunned expression. “My mistress is pleased with your actions, Telamon. You have striven to use Her gifts wisely and well. You pray all that you have done is righteous in Her eyes? Well, this is Her answer. She gifts this to you, because She knows you will not misuse it.” As they walk towards the castle, a familiar ship is drawn up at the docks. “And there is the Barque of Sweet Dreams. A good thing too, or I'd be most irked at whoever took it for a joyride...”

The half-sil sorcerer manages to get his brains working again, hurriedly catching up. “Now... now wait a minute, Isaak. What... how does this work? I mean, how do I get here, beyond dreaming it?” Tel's eyes trace up the castle's walls and turrets, and the keep inside. “I've never owned a castle before,” he admits. “Do I need to hire a seneschal and servants?”

Isaak's laugh is boisterous but not cruel. “Come now, Telamon, you know my mistress better than that. She would give you nothing that would be a burden. Responsibility, yes, but She would not weight you down under something you could not bear.” The sailor casually waves his hand. “You can reach it by dreaming, or through planar travel – you know the appropriate spells. It works much like the magnificent mansion spell, albeit more... impressive. All may speak here and understand each other, and none may fear prying eyes.” Isaak pauses. “You may also reshape the castle as needed, though that will require some mental focus on your part. But please leave the dock in place, I'd like to have some place to drop anchor.”

Telamon runs his hands through his hair. “I... gods, Isaak. And I joked about getting a land grant the other day, too.” He looks up at the dream-guardian. “I... suppose I can't really turn Her down. She's gone to all this trouble. I should at least tour the grounds and buildings.” He ponders. “Leca'fi Amdamu. Castle on the Edge of Waking. Poetic.” Gazing at the open portcullis and doors, he takes a step toward them, before glancing back at Isaak. “You're not coming?”

Isaak shakes his head. “No. Someone is waiting to give you the tour, my friend. But you may see me come by now and then. It's good to have a friendly port out here in the Dreamtime.” He tosses off a salute, before walking down towards the dock towards his ship.

Telamon watches the divine sailor walk away, before turning his steps inside the castle itself. The sheen on the stone fascinates him, and he touches it in a couple places, before continuing his pace with a slightly jaunty step. It's not every day you receive a castle as a gift – especially one from a goddess. Two translucent, elf-like figures stand at attention and salute Telamon as he steps through the entryway into the main hall. Vaulted with hanging banners, each with a different crest – many unknown to Telamon.

But those are missed as his eyes fall upon the personage facing him. Almost twice Telamon's height, with silvery skin and eyes that shine like the full moon, the humanoid is draped in a deep black robes that sparkle with stars. Three pairs of wings jut from his back, and he radiates a calm majesty, as those moonstone eyes fall upon the mortal sorcerer. “Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon,” he states. It's not a question.

Tel swallows slightly, feeling an unaccountable surge of nerves. But at the speaking of his name, he straightens up. “Yes,” he says, clearing his throat. “May I have the honor of knowing who addresses me, my lord?” He knows what it is: a solar, an angel so powerful that only the gods and a few select empyreal entities can gainsay them. A little bit of etiquette – alright, more than a little bit – is definitely called for here.

“You may,” the solar responds with a faint smile. “I am called Cupertos, and until the ascension of Isaak the Sailor, I took responsibility for the Barque of Sweet Dreams. After his advancement, I was then tasked with tending and guarding Leca'fi Amdamu, when it is not in the hands of a mortal steward. When one is chosen, I instruct them on the Castle's nature and capabilities, as well as its limitations.” The solar spreads his arms, and curiously – does the hall get larger? No, he becomes smaller, until he is merely a head taller than Telamon. “I have been told of your deeds. You have sought allies in strange places, striven in directions not expected, and yet you have always sought to do the right thing.” That small smile appears again. “You need not fear any reproach from me. I believe the Castle will be in good hands.”

Telamon manages to not gulp nervously, but he keeps his head up. “Your praise is its own reward, my lord. Why don't we get started? The night will not last forever, and I am sure Ni'essa has new tasks for you once you're done here.”

A soft chuckle comes from the angel. “She tasks me, just as She tasks you. But I welcome it. Your words have merit though – one does not do good by simply letting the grass grow under one's feet.” Cupertos falls into step next to Telamon, as the two begin walking, a new banner unfurls from the ceiling – this one depicting a raven perched inside a crescent moon.

As the unlikely pair walk through the castle, Cupertos expands on Isaak's remarks. “The castle responds to your whims, though you must concentrate to do so. Walls, ceilings, floors, all can be altered. You cannot remove the banners of the past lords, though, nor can you remove your own. After all, they declare who is the master of this place.” The solar leads Telamon into a large dining hall. “Much like the magnificent mansion spell, the castle can feed and house guests who come here physically. Dreamers, sadly, cannot benefit.”

“Makes sense.” Telamon runs a fingertip along one of the dining hall chairs, studying the elaborate artistry of the carvings. “So there have been other lords in times past. I hope I can live up to their example.” Despite Cupertos being man-sized now, Telamon still feels like a child walking along in his father's wake. As they walk up a flight of stairs, Telamon considers something. “I have... seen things in my dreams, things that are not but might yet be. Would we encounter them here?”

Cupertos turns to Telamon with a kindly look. “Only in dreams, Telamon. This place straddles the line between the real and the sleeping world. But there are rules, rules even the gods cannot break. But have faith. I suspect the distance between the dream and the reality of your life is much narrower than you would expect.” The solar's eyes twinkle in a way not dissimilar from Tel's. “After all, how can we make things real, if we do not dream them first?”

As the two look in on a lavish master bedroom, with a bed big enough for four people to sprawl in, Telamon shakes his head. “I may rearrange this. It's too /big/ for Lana and I. It's like that folk song Mother used to sing, something about a bed that would hold eight kids and four hound dogs.” He rubs his chin, walking over to look at the bay window with a stunning view of the sea. Far off, he can see the Barque of Sweet Dreams moving off. “Will I encounter Rafael here as well?”

Cupertos tilts his head. “Perhaps. I... do not pretend to approve of him, but he performs his task well. He does not strike me as one who will spend long under any roof, no matter how generous the offer.” The angel joins Telamon at the window. “Isaak is more likely to visit. Or any goodly creature who passes through the Border Ethereal or the Dreamtime. Evil foes avoid this place, since the masters of the castle have viewed such intrusions as 'target practice'.” Cupertos's face has a faintly bemused expression, matching his tone. “But I cannot fault their diligence in such things. It matched my own.”

Telamon snorts. “I'll bet. The Sky-Singer was probably handing the keys to people wholly suited to the role – and they wouldn't have tolerated any nonsense.” Walking down to the well-stocked library, Telamon considers, then says, “My lord, will /you/ visit? I know, you said this was my task, and I accept. But I would not deny you a roof over your head and a sympathetic ear, if you needed it.”

The angel pauses, and looks at Telamon with an unreadable expression. Then his face softens. “Thank you, Telamon. This has been a home for me for many years, while I was steward. In time I suspect I will be tasked with guardianship again, unless She finds a worthy aspirant after you depart the circles of the world.” Cupertos nods. “She will task me, but should my steps pass by here, I will at least pay my respects.”

Looking around, Telamon nods at the books surrounding him. “I think that answers all my questions. I could always ask a friend if I need to.” His lips curl in a smile. “I'd just need to lay in a supply of fish first, and be ready with more as needed.” His fingertips graze the shelved books. “I suppose I'll need to wake up soon.”

Cupertos actually lets out a small chuckle. “Ah, you're acquainted with the Lady's Herald. I should not be surprised. For all her capriciousness she is a good person, and many in the ranks of the Heavens respect her. You could do worse to seek her out, if you had questions.” At Telamon's remark, he nods, reaching out to draw a book from the shelf. “Then awaken, lord of Leca'fi Amdamu.” As Telamon takes the book, it opens to reveal a black void speckled with stars, that Tel finds himself falling into...

...and through...

...until his eyes open in confusion at the first morning light coming through the bedroom window. Cor'lana curled up against him, a warm reminder of his life thus far and what's to come. But the name comes to his lips, unbidden:

“Leca'fi Amdamu...”