A continued dream, well that was a first, she still remembered the first one, so it was very obvious in some way the new dream she had the night before was somehow connected to the original one. Whatever the case was Rena opted to ignore these messages, the belief being that it was really only by chance that she, again someone who normally doesn't dream at all, had two extremely similar ones in succession. The subject of the newest dream wasn't that obvious to her, it was a jumble to her, with only a few elements identifiable even then she couldn't understand them. Noboyuki seemed to be fine, at least that almost seemed to be the case, as it had been recently she was no longer confident in reading the man, could he be reflecting on their conversations that was still just a few nights ago? What could he be thinking about. 

[hr]

There was no field this time, but it was indoors. At first there were only gray stone walls, these walls made a massive featureless room devoid of any defining features, and lined in total darkness. It was quiet. Then as time went on this empty room became more furnished, large wooden benches, almost pews, hugged the far walls on both sides. Then red tapestries hung across the walls, only that one solid red. Then there were windows, streaming light into the room, each one cutting a hole into the gray stone at even intervals. More and more was added to this room, carpet being gold and red, more benches, new chairs, candles and torches, until eventually the entire room was almost alive, resembling a royal court.

As if from nowhere, it seemed, there were people. Many people in fact who filled the entire space, most of them looked to be well dressed, clean, and obviously wealthy. Yet they didn't have faces... although that wouldn't be the right way to describe them. They did have faces, eyes, a nose and a mouth, but they didn't... perhaps words couldn't explain after all. Among these well dressed individuals were what appeared to be heavily armored men, clad in metal plate, wielding lethal looking halberds. They had a stoic air to them, cold and commanding. In the middle, where everyone was looking at, one of the Faceless was different, being that he in fact had a face, strong features, among them being a groomed beard, a shallow one, and he appeared to be aged, not white with years, but old. Sound came rushing in, yet none of it was clear, it was muffled, a male voice was speaking, it appeared to come from the Faced One, he was angry, he was shouting. To whom couldn't be seen, maybe a far off figure, up beyond the steps that lead to a throne, to the master.

[i] The Tyrant[/i]

The Faced One continued his shouting, although before long the armored men, [i]The Executioners[/i], grabbed the Faced One, roughly pulling him from the court, the muffled words becoming more frantic... as only if he were pleading, scared. Without transition the Field had returned, yet the Court had left. The banners still held their place, alone and abandoned, now the skies were no long just a shade of orange, but truly red now, a unnatural color. Nothing there was now there, at the base of the center banner, one of the armored men once present in the Court, maybe, no longer stoic or commanding, still cold. He... if he were a he, laid limp and lifeless. Only a shell now.

The shouting of the Faced One rang out, clear.

[i] Falkren! You traitorous bitch! How could you! [/i]