The Darkness Weaver

Charles and Joseph moved to a corner table deeper in the tavern. Charles was about to tell him about the dreams, but Joseph raised a quick hand, his expression tense and cautious.

"Wait," Joseph whispered, barely audible over the general buzz of the room. "Too many people here. This isn't the place for such important talk. Let's find somewhere quiet first. For now, let's change the subject—maybe you can fill me in on that recent case you investigated?"

Sighing, Charles gave Joseph an exasperated sidelong glance. "Why bother? You could read all about it in the next weekly bulletin. The details will be there anyway."

Joseph made a show of pouting, then pleaded, "But I don't want to wait that long. Come on, I'm dying to hear! Please share at least a bit of it?"

A mischievous smile tugged at Charles's lips. "No," he said plainly, although there was a playful edge in his tone.

Joseph wasn't offended. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and signaled a waiter. A moment later, a lavishly expensive bottle of fine wine was produced, set in the center of their table.

"Shame," Joseph teased, sliding the bottle toward himself, "because I was just about to buy you a bottle of this remarkable vintage… if you agreed to spill the details."

Charles's eyes darted to the wine, hunger in his gaze. He swallowed hard and reached out, wrestling the bottle away from his friend. "W-well, we've been friends a long time. No need to go overboard with bribes… but hey, if you insist on treating me, who am I to refuse your generosity?"

Finally, Joseph let go of the bottle, giving Charles a pat on the shoulder. "Your 'sense of modesty' is one of a kind," he teased. Both men burst into friendly laughter.

Charles, still hugging the wine, opted not to open it right away. Instead, he began recounting the details of his latest investigations:

The first case concerned a household servant who had deliberately poisoned her employer and a visiting nobleman. Tracing it back revealed that those nobles had once falsely accused her father of a crime, resulting in prison time and the collapse of her entire family. The young woman had taken a position under them, quietly plotting revenge. Even more horrifying, it was connected to a local orphanage with a sinister side—while claiming to shelter needy children, it was in fact selling them off to wealthy bidders. Joseph's eyes lit with interest at that revelation.

The second case took place in a remote village where residents succumbed to mysterious ailments. Some had twisted limbs and bizarre symptoms, leading villagers to suspect witchcraft. Further investigation uncovered that ergot fungus in contaminated grain was the real culprit—and on top of that, someone had used the same fungal toxin to commit murder.

Joseph nodded thoughtfully after hearing both stories. "Fascinating—and sobering. One careless injustice can topple an entire family, while in the other scenario, a single obsession was enough to spark murder. Makes you wonder about the darkness that lurks in people's hearts."

They chatted for a while, the tavern gradually emptying as closing time drew near. Staff began clearing away dishes and wiping down tables. Charles paid the bill before Joseph could protest, smiling wryly as Joseph reached for his coin pouch.

"You've already bought me some outrageously priced wine," Charles reasoned. "Covering our meal's the least I can do."

Their tab totaled one crusédo and four denarius, whereas the wine Joseph provided ran an eye-watering five hundred crusédo.

"All right," Joseph said as they both stood to leave. "We'll talk about that dream of yours somewhere private. There's way more to discuss than I realized."

Charles readily agreed, feeling an urgent need to dig deeper into the recollection that had been plaguing him. They stepped outside into the cool night, the tavern shutters closing behind them. Joseph's private carriage waited, its driver holding the reins. Under the glow of moonlight, they climbed aboard, letting the driver set off through the lamplit streets.

For a while, they rode in silence, leaning into soft cushions as the carriage wheels rumbled over the cobblestones. City lanterns cast flickers of gold across the shuttered windows and silhouettes of late-night passersby. A chill breeze suggested hidden perils lurking in the dark. Charles shivered as if a foreboding shadow had brushed his mind.

Joseph studied him, face grave. "Since it's just us," he said, "tell me the details of that dream. I want to hear everything."

Closing his eyes, Charles took a calming breath. "All right," he replied. He then began describing each vision in minute detail:

"It happened on a raging sea, lashing rain and thunder overhead. Two ships locked in furious battle, neither side giving any ground. Then something unbelievably strange occurred: the air distorted, destroying everything in its path in the blink of an eye."

Charles paused, heart pounding at the memory. "And I realized I was on one of those ships—along with a man who looked so much like you, Joseph. A mysterious force hammered us, but we somehow survived by this bizarre mist that shielded us, then both of us got hurled into the freezing ocean."

He swallowed. "That's where my memory ends. All I can see is that last moment, a piece of debris striking my head, and you swimming toward me… It was all so vivid. More than a mere nightmare. Feels like a memory," he whispered.

Joseph nodded solemnly. "It wasn't just a dream. It's a fragment of your missing past."

Charles's eyes widened. "My… missing past?"

"Exactly. Two years ago, I was returning from Sarnia when our convoy was attacked by pirates."

"Wait, what? You were attacked by pirates?" Charles exclaimed.

Joseph shrugged. "Yep, that's what happened."

"Which ship were you on?"

"One belonging to the royal fleet. Why?"

"Didn't you have a naval escort?"

"Of course. Several ships, in fact."

Charles leaned back, pressing both hands to his temples in disbelief. "You had multiple escort vessels, yet pirates still dared to attack? What in the world were they thinking?"

"Who knows what pirates think? But it did happen," Joseph insisted.

"Could it be they outnumbered you guys?"

Joseph shook his head. "No, we had more ships than they did."

Charles furrowed his brow. "So fewer pirates attacked a larger, better-armed fleet? That's insane."

Joseph exhaled through his nose. "In the end, we overwhelmed most of them. Only one pirate ship remained. Then that… phenomenon occurred: the sky changed color, storms raged, the entire sea turned violent. Every other ship in our convoy sank. Only my ship and their last vessel were left, and right afterward…" He gestured vaguely, "the same scene you described from your dream."

A heavy silence lingered until Charles spoke, voice tight. "I've spent the past two years desperately searching for a clue and found nothing. And to think the key detail was locked away in my own forgotten memories… unbelievable."

He locked eyes with Joseph. "So that destructive power, that swirl in the air, and that mist that shielded me—do you know anything about them?"

Joseph shook his head. "Not really. I only saw the same abnormal illusions you did—disintegrating everything in seconds. The rest is just as mysterious to me."

Charles nodded dully. "Right… so do you recall anything from me before that moment?"

Again Joseph gave a slow shrug. "I only remember your clothes. They weren't like ours. Sort of resembled Sarnian attire. But you'd have to check Sarnia yourself if you want to confirm."

"Yes," Charles said, brightening. "That's why I've been saving money. I plan to travel there soon—maybe I'll uncover more about my past. If I was from there, or had family there, that would explain a lot."

"That's a reasonable step," Joseph said, face thoughtful. "Sometimes going back in person can rekindle memories."

Charles suddenly frowned, as if recalling something. "Hang on… the way you talk about investigating me… Did you try looking into my background before?"

Joseph maintained an unwavering gaze. "We did. I sent some requests to find any record of you in Sarnia—hoping to discover leads on who you might be. Nothing surfaced."

"Then why didn't you just take me along?" Charles demanded, sounding faintly annoyed.

Joseph chuckled wryly. "Well, back then you could barely communicate, right? You couldn't assist in any search. Plus, we didn't physically travel there ourselves, it was more like we asked contacts in that region to do some digging and report back."

Charles's lips parted, only to close again. He couldn't refute the logic: after washing ashore, he'd spent a long period under investigation, needing to relearn how to speak, read, and function in daily life. Meanwhile, Joseph had faced a crisis among the nobility—some officials had tried to pin blame on him for the doomed voyage and demanded accountability for the fiasco at sea.

"True," Charles muttered. "Back then, I must've been like an infant starting over." He sighed bitterly. "So… yeah, you make a valid point."

Joseph studied him gently. "Anyway, if your memories eventually fully come back and you find your real family there… what then? Got any idea what you'd do?"

Charles hesitated, shoulders tense, before finally admitting, "I'm not sure. If my family are decent folks, maybe I'd stay with them awhile, make up for lost time. But if it turns out they're… not so great, I guess I'd stay here. Honestly, I like living in this kingdom, aside from all the corruption in the courts and bureaucracy."

"Can't argue with that," Joseph replied with a knowing nod. "They need serious reforms, and soon."

A thought occurred to Joseph. "Speaking of which—earlier, you were so interested in every tiny detail about how the pirates boarded my ship and all that. You never asked why I went to Sarnia in the first place. Not curious?"

A gleam of challenge lit Joseph's eyes. Charles smirked. "No thanks. I'd rather not risk learning more government secrets than necessary. Safer for me if I remain ignorant."

Joseph barked a laugh. "That's not how this works. But I see your point."

Charles noticed a flicker in his friend's expression and grinned. "Aha, thought so. You're definitely hiding something 'classified,' right? Well, rest easy, I won't pry."

They both broke into laughter—one that carried a hint of relief, as if letting them forget, if only for a moment, the looming shadows that threatened to resurface.

And so, with the carriage rattling through the lamp-lit streets, the two friends continued their conversation, exchanging warm camaraderie and half-spoken truths. Their night's revelations were but the beginning of what Charles would one day uncover about his forgotten past, the cataclysmic storm at sea, and the strange power that tore the ships asunder. Yet for now, in the hush of the carriage and the quiet companionship, they could share a moment of hope—hope that the next steps toward the truth would be waiting beyond the dawn.