Several weeks later August had already explored various different places in the conscious realm. Now, when he had become proficient in guiding himself into the depths of another realm he began to visit there more often.
Everyday August got to know something more about the conscious realm. He wandered into the forest and noticed that the eerie place seemed different everyday. Sometimes trees appear to be shedding their leaves making August think of Autumn and the next day new trees stood in the place of the ones he saw yesterday.
Fresh leaves of the new day trees swayed without any wind. Their canopies seemed to rustle without making any sound. At first the strange behaviour of the place creeped him out but as he spent his time there, the forest started to look lively and beautiful even it was just his imagination.
August started to spend more time inside the forest. It gave him a strange sense of peace. It calmed him down for some reason. He was beginning to think he belonged here but obviously it wasn't true. And he knew it better.
After the eerie forest, he visited the calm and tranquil ocean also. August, when he had nothing to do, would just sit there at the shore and try to imagine himself just as he was in the physical world.
It was like trying to draw a copy of himself straight into the air without any canvas.
The process was much harder than he thought it would be. Apparently it was easier for him to imagine something else or someone else up to an extent than it was to imagine himself.
August when not doing anything would just lie at the shore in order to experience the calmness again.
This realm offered him just the comfort he ever longed for.
August thought of exploring the places he had already visited more, than to expand his senses more in search of a new place.
There was only one time he did that. At that time, far at the horizon of the tranquil ocean, he had found an enormous volcano which seemed ready to erupt at any moment in the eerie silence of this place.
Somewhere far away a small sandstorm was slowly taking the form of a tornado. It was years behind to be a proper hurricane however.
August wondered whether he needed to be aware of these disasters or not.
He asked the storyteller who somewhat gave a mixed expression. They said in their various voices that he didn't have to be worried only if he thinks he is strong enough to withstand that.
'Thinks' he gave much emphasis on the word because while it was the realm where consciousness resided, it also was the realm of imagination. An individual's thoughts here would hold more weight than his actual physical strength.
He got to know this new information about the conscious realm from the storyteller who occasionally talked to August to know whether he felt ready for the first story yet or not. And August was still stalling for more time, he didn't want to take any decision in a hurry that he might regret in the future.
Regret happens to be the most loathsome emotion after all.
Stories of the storyteller contained a mess of emotions according to them. Therefore August could not help but try to be more prepared on his part. Because no one but the storyteller themselves knew what they were hiding in them.
August was a bit concerned about this matter because of the status of the strange being. It was true that the storyteller could not tell him their name but there was nothing stopping him from finding out himself.
He was entitled to speculate on his part as much as he wanted.
So he was stalling and putting their request onto another day while talking to the storyteller a little by little as he tried to get to know them. Surprisingly the storyteller themselves seemed very cooperative when August refused their request of starting the first story.
However, August wasn't getting any nearer to their true identity either. As he tried to know them better, the very nature of the world seems to contradict itself, it was like their true identity was of someone who shouldn't have existed in the first place.
Then a person or a god, he felt they were more like a river who flowed and flowed eternally. He wondered how the storyteller might look in the physical world.
For some reason he couldn't imagine that.
This wasn't the wild part though, August wasn't able to imagine his own self after all.
August considered many probabilities, he thought the storyteller might be the incorporeal incarnation of many fallen mages, dead soldiers or warriors maybe but the storyteller laughed at his wild conjecture.
They found it rather amusing that a human was trying to figure out their identity,
But August wasn't concerned also, he had so much time in his hands after all.
Apparently he had almost two years in his hand.
August had obviously hid the fact that he had finally crossed the threshold between realms from his mother. He felt even more guilty about it. He thought maybe he's getting used to the lies.
And there was nothing true about a person who was too comfortable with lies.
Also there wasn't any other way to keep the existence of the storyteller a secret which was apparently part of the deal.
— — –
Spending almost all of the day in the conscious realm August was heading home after his regular patrol.
On the way home, he saw farmers returning home, children playing peacefully in the streets and the elderly sitting peacefully at the park.
It was the usual route for his evening patrol and these were the faces he saw everyday. Children of his age were mostly studying out of the town. Some even at the capital. So for some reason he felt like the only teenager there.
August knew these people well, they were the responsibility of his father and now his, until his father comes back.
August was walking in a daze and only after he heard a sound did he realize that an elderly man was walking behind him. The sound was coming from his wooden stick that he used as a support to walk.
Clack… Clack… Clack…
The strange voice of the wooden stick resounded in his ears. Surprisingly the sound wasn't loud enough but his attention for a moment was drawn to it nevertheless.
The hairs of the elderly man had turned white and his fair skin seemed withered by time. He had wrinkles all over his face but they were almost covered by his long white beard.
His eyes cried of someone who had seen many things in life. The man of small stature was covered in woolen clothing and had wrapped a piece of cloth around him so that the cold won't reach him.
Of course August knew him. He was an old man named Rowan. He was someone even his father respected. August may not have much interaction with him but he knew enough to respect the old man.
Suddenly the steps of old man Rowan seemed to falter. He stumbled onto his own and lost the steady footing on the ground causing him to fall on the ground. Before he could've met the ground however, August grabbed the old man by his arm.
"Careful sir," the words escaped his mouth unknowingly. He supported him to stand on his own again.
"Oh, thank you young man," the old man said. "It would've been very bad if you hadn't saved me. It's alright you can unhand me now son."
August heard the old man but he was reluctant to leave his arm considering the old man wasn't looking very healthy. His breathing seemed ragged, not to mention just by walking a few steps it seemed like he had exhausted himself.
"It's okay sir," he said, making his tone gentle. "Just tell me where you are going."
"No," the old man said, catching a breath, "I can't possibly trouble you. A little stumble and fall is normal for me at this age. You needn't worry."
While the old man had said so, August wasn't very sure if it was right to leave him here. The old man was likely heading to the park so August thought of quietly following him.
If he did that he could support the old man immediately if he were to fall again. And keeping quiet about it also did not make the old man feel any guilt for taking his help.
He let go of the old man's arm and followed closely behind. August entered into the park with him, it was a place filled mainly with children and elderly. Which made sense at the time of the day. It was evening so naturally everyone wanted to have some rest and a moment of peace for themselves.
August walked past many people. They were all someone he already knew. It was his duty afterall, being the proxy of the saviour of the town.
From wherever he passed, people were staring at him. Maybe they didn't know who he was, he thought. Which was alright considering how much of an introvert August was. It was only natural for people to not recognize him.
There were people who did recognize him however. They too seemed to be staring at him. August felt nervous suddenly being the centre of attention. If it was any other day he wouldn't have given these people much attention not because he was an arrogant noble, but because he was scared of what people might think of him.
They were all someone his father held dear. While he didn't care much about people in the rest of the world, these were the masses he had a responsibility towards. So whatever the conception or misconception they held towards him, it did matter to him, a lot.
There was also another thing. August had already become a hateful personality after the trial class incident where he had put all the children's lives in danger just to prove his stupid, child-like point. Which was also a reason August thought these staring people might have feeling hatred towards him. So he wanted nothing more than to leave the park.
Incident from the trial class was also the reason August felt reluctant to go near a crowd. He made himself distant just so he couldn't harm anyone ever again. Also he was scared of being judged by them obviously for the great sin he had committed.
If people of the town hated August, he had no reason to blame them for it. Hell, he would've hated himself if his children were to be put in mortal danger because of some stupid, failure child.
He lowered his gaze and followed old man Rowan to a bench. After Rowan sat on the bench August was about to leave, suddenly the old man spoke,
"Care to have a seat with this old man?" August was surprised, he was confident Rowan hadn't known that he followed him but how did he? Making his speech clear the old man spoke again, "Yes, I am talking to you, young man from before."
August let out a sigh. There was no hiding anymore.
"How did you even know?" he said as he took a seat beside Rowan.
"How would I know what? That you'd follow me?" the old man said, letting out a sigh he spoke again, "you reminded me of this kind, chivalrous warrior whom I admired a lot back in my days. That's why I knew you'd make sure that I reach my destination unharmed."
August was taken aback. Was this just a conjecture on his part or had the old man seen him following behind. The latter was possibly true.
'Right. I am not a chivalrous or a kind person. Not at all.'
August smiled wryly at himself.
"Wait a minute. You are Lord Valerius's son?" the old man said, pinching his eyes while looking at him.
"You are the young lord aren't you?"
— — — — —