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[right][sub]Locations: Guesthouse[/sub][/right][hr]
Coming back from that meeting with Calbert and Prince Wulfric, the Varian doctor was just autonomously putting a foot in front of the other. His eyes were burning, blurry and heavy. Twice he felt himself wandering in a different direction before realizing he had strayed and corrected his path. It had been what had been a very long night. The travel fatigue from Varian, the long ball, 2 dances, the library, a murder, and a long investigation that he was unsure why he was substituting for an investigator. He even got to hear about the disappearance of the Alidasht nobles nonetheless. What a wonderful process the glorious kingdom of Caesonia had here. A murder case investigated by a vengeful emotional creep father and a prince. Blame him for growing up in the somewhat more egalitarian, or rather less elitist, society but unless the prince had worked in the law, two guys in an office playing detective could only be worse by two royals in an office playing detective. 

Arriving at the guesthouse a lot later than anticipated, John had to show himself to the other physicians, to at the very least let them know that he was safe. The Surgeon Dentist of the team was known to over-worry things like king Alixandre. He might find himself being burst in by armed guards and princess-carried if their minds ran wild enough.

At the end of the day, he shouldn't be interested in the case. He was an outsider unfortunate enough to discover the mess. It was heavy knowing a young lady getting murdered in such cold blood, royals or not, but six times out of ten were probably disgruntled peasants/employees getting screwed by the family, and three were probably petty noble's pouring molten gold into a dead body. He had no interest in middling affairs when he had work to do, and people to care for - actual [i]people[/i] to care for. However, there was something about this case that continued to bug him. Not the evidence, that were clearly up to proper analysis, but the people behind them. It hit a little close to home for him.

[color=a36209]"John?"[/color] A door opened to the familiar voice of Dr. Hunter, his former academic advisor. [color=a36209]"Where have you been tonight? It's quite damn late."[/color] He asked, upon seeing his former supervisee.

[color=5486ae]"It's a long story."[/color] John replied, scratching the back of his head. [color=5486ae]"I can explain if you want, but it might take a bit."[/color] 

[color=a36209]"We can always chat later."[/color] The middle-aged man replied. [color=a36209]"Have you reported to the surgeon dentist? He's asking where you are."[/color] John just shook his head, and Dr. Hunter leaned his head over. [color=a36209]"He's with the queen I think. I'm heading there anyway briefly, so I can always let him know you're here."[/color] He replied. 

[color=5486ae]"Well, let me know if I am summoned."[/color] John replied, and was met with a thumbs-up from the old doctor as he departed. 

John returned to his room, waiting for Dr. Hunter to return the all-clear before he could finally go to sleep. But the soft cushion, the pillow next to him, seemingly whispering for him to lend an ear, was too tempting. The moment he laid himself on the bed, he lost control, even as he was awake for a few more minutes. The dream world soon whisked him away...down into the abyss. 

[hider=TW Dead bodies]
If a dream was vivid enough, it usually is a bad thing.

For John, he remembered clearly where he was. A snowy canyon, two cliffsides leaning into one another, a frozen river beneath. And he no longer in formal wear, but brown cloaks, scarves, and small mittens. Small mittens. He was a kid again. But this was no happy memory.

This is Mount Vesuvo. Or according to some, Mount Penitentiary, because this is where criminals go, or rather criminals designated by the kingdom, if they were not outright publicly executed. There would be long borders to prevent any attempts to escape south, as means to return back to the kingdom. They'd live out the rest of their shortened lives here as if they were not soon claimed by the terrain, the weather, the northern "barbarians" would likely have them sacrificed. It's effectively a death sentence but with the veneer of mercy.

And many had already been taken by the former two. As John walked through the valley beneath the cliff, images began to appear, in the exact order that he remembered happened. 

A body faced into the snow. The entire area facing the sky of his brown cloak had turned bright from sun exposure. They must have fallen from the cliff while attempting to climb it. 

Another body, this one cupped in a fetal position, their face covered by the cloak. There were no bags or anything with them. They must have not been prepared and froze to death there.

Then another, this one he was fortunate enough to face the heavens, but his face had been terribly bleached. He must have been here for at least a few years. 

Two more, these ones really close, almost on top of the other. Who knows what really happened to them. They could be couples who decided to join one another in the next life. Or some good-willed individual who helped another in times of crisis, only to follow them instead. Regardless, they are now corpses in this frozen wasteland. All of them were once living, breathing, laughing, now an icy husk never to be buried, only to be walked past by the next unfortunate victims of Caesonian brutality. And it wouldn't just be dead ones. 

There was a small ice overhang, looking a bit too colorful to be just ice and snow. A closer inspection showed there was actually someone there, curled up with her arms around her legs. Her nose had turned black, and her face paled but still breathing. 

He felt himself approaching that ice overhang, edging closer with each step to the woman. She would not respond back, but John knew she was still alive. He'd grab her coat with his two hands and yank it but to no avail. His strength was gone. His limbs felt weak. He tried pushing the woman out of her position, futilely as well. Nothing he did would budge her. 

[color=5486ae]"Mom, dad!"[/color] He called out. Two silhouettes towered behind him, but he wouldn't look back. Autonomously and without a word said, one of them, whom if John recalled correctly would be his dad, reached for the woman and tried to pull her up. He could hear cracks of snow and ice ripping off her as her body buckled. But he too dropped her after a short while. His mother would join in to help drag her, but they were all peasants, weak and exhausted. The woman also couldn't unwind herself. Her posture was to be like that forever, frozen solid. 

He remembered to the exact words what was uttered. 

[color=6ecff6]"It'd take us too long to cross the mountain if we carry her. We have to leave."[/color]

[color=5486ae]"No, we can't!"[/color] John cried out unconsciously, the same words he said then.

[color=6ecff6]"I'm sorry John..."[/color]

John was held by his hand, sandwiched by his mother and father, and walked away, as that poor woman's body was left there, her arms still wrapped around her legs, her eyes seemingly staring at the young boy before her image slowly shrank and disappeared. It was cold on Mount Vesuvo, in so many different ways...
[/hider]
[color=5486ae][i]'Let me out of this...'[/i][/color]

He felt his eyes shut, his chest a thousand weighs heavy. His fingers could curl, but he could not open his eyes. His fingers curled, his teeth clenched. The freezing cold did not leave him...

[color=5486ae][i]'COME ON, LET ME OUT!!!'[/i][/color]

Finally, his eyes opened, and lights rushed in and overwhelmed his fovea. John quickly sat up from his bed and leveled himself. He rubbed his temple as air rushed through his lungs. The sweat soaked his hand. There was no one around. It was just sleep paralysis, accompanied by a horrible dream. 

[color=5486ae]"Why did it come back just now?"[/color] He asked himself, his two hands cuddled together. It was cold, just like that canyon. How could it be? He thought he had already left it behind, ever since he became apprentice to the doctor at Kolonivka. He thought he was able to sleep soundly now, after finally being able to forgive himself. Why did the memories have to come back?