You didn't ask. You offered yourself up as a vessel before you knew all the facts. That is hardly my fault.
"What about in the portal? That thing separated us."
No, it didn't. We were still connected. That is how I found my way back once you opened a portal.
It was a lot to consider. Too much, given I was there to rescue Horralain, not debate with the horror inside of me as to the definition of separation, and the eventual terminus of our relationship. I turned away from Ssserakis and started towards the throng of people. They were packed in tight. Some were waving arms, others making rude gestures, and all were shouting.
"I don't have enough workers to tend my fields."
"Taxes are higher in my village than his."
"Thieves took three sheep from one of my farmer's flock."
I tried my best to ignore the inane chatter and pushed into the crowd. Memories of the Pit came flooding back to me, of standing in line near the Trough, pushing my way around the other scabs to get a slop of gruel. Frustration blossomed inside, and with it came anger. I was not that girl anymore, powerless and weak. I would no longer suffer being lost in a crushing crowd. With a shout, I drew on my Pyromancy Source and set my hands on fire… Well, I tried. Nothing happened inside the construct.
Ssserakis' mocking laugh reached me despite the noise surrounding me. The rules are different here, Eskara. You have no magic. You are simply one of the actors in this play, and the rules apply to you as much as any of these images.
"But they don't apply to you?" I shouted at the horror.
The rules never apply to the puppet master. Only those with strings to pull.
"Does that mean you're in control here?" I asked as I pushed my way between another group of shouting people.
No. Your Iron Legion created this construct, but he learned how from me.
One of the crowd jostled me and I will admit I lost all composure. I have never been one for great patience and I was exhausted. Odd, that my exhaustion crossed over to the construct, yet my injuries did not. I lashed out, striking the nearest of the crowd in the face with a punch that would have made Hardt proud. I pushed at the woman on the other side of me and elbowed the man behind me in the face. For a few brief moments space opened around me and I could breathe. Then the crowd closed on me once more, even more tightly than before. Those I had struck paid me no mind and bore no injuries; they only went back to shouting at something in front of us all. A curse of being quite short, is that I have never been able to see over a crowd. I sometimes envy those blessed with height, until I see them smack their heads on low roofs and doorways.
By the time I reached the front of the crowd, I was clutching my chest and panting in exhaustion. Ssserakis stepped beside me, my shadow passing through the throng as though it was not there. I longed to turn about and lay into the crowd. They might not feel my attacks, nor even be inconvenienced by them, but throwing some punches would make me feel better.
Before the crowd, I found Horralain. The giant thug huddled on a grand, golden throne that would have looked overly ostentatious had I found a god sitting upon it. Tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped from his beard, and he wore a large crown on his head. Horralain's gaze passed over the crowd standing before him, his eyes roving from face to face. He passed me by and there was no recognition there, only blind panic and tears.
I rushed forward and grabbed Horralain by the shoulder. A part of me hoped that would be it, once I had found him, we would both be dragged out of the dream. Of course, things are rarely so simple. The big man didn't even seem to notice my hand on his shoulder.
"Horralain, come on. We have to go." I tugged at him, but he remained rooted to his throne, and moving a man that size is never an easy task.
I stepped in front of Horralain then and slapped him hard in the face. His eyes continued their endless, terrified circuit of the shouting faces.
"Horralain," I shouted his name over the noise of the crowd. "Snap out of it. Help me fight through them. We'll find a way out."
The big man's eyes washed over me, not even realizing I was there.
My shadow moved in front of me, peering down at Horralain. Impressive. I'd be proud if I wasn't too busy hating him for dragging me from my home. Ssserakis turned to look at me through gleaming green holes in the face of my own shadow. The construct is built. The rules are set. You have neither the power, nor the knowledge to break them, Eskara. So how do you win when you can't cheat?
I thought back to my time in the Pit once more. To my time at the gaming tables, hours upon hours of gambling what meagre possessions I could scrounge up. The snuff pouch at my belt, the one I hid my Sources in was a memento from those days, one of the very first things I ever won. You couldn't cheat at the gaming tables, there were too many eyes watching. Too much of a crowd. You had to play within the rules if you wanted to win, but that didn't mean you had to play fairly.
"Why is this Horralain's greatest fear?" The truth was already coming to me. "What is there to fear here?"
Not all fears are monsters and pain. Yours aren't. Your greatest fear is…
"Shut up! We're not fucking talking about me. What is there here to fear? People. Wide open spaces."
You're thinking too literal, Eskara. Fears are not things. They are thoughts. You do not fear the knife, so much as what it might do.
"Decisions!" It all seemed so obvious once I had the answer. Every person in the gathered crowd wasn't just shouting, they were asking questions, requesting aid, demanding a decision. Horralain wasn't scared of the crowd, he feared the responsibility of being in charge.
I stepped in front of Horralain, blocking his hulking form as best I could, and turned to face the gathered crowd. I had to raise my voice to a shout to be heard. "My name is Eskara Helsene." A thought occurred to me; I had to play within the rules of the game. "Chancellor Eskara Helsene. I'm here to make decisions on behalf of…" I glanced back to the big thug cowering on his throne. "King Horralain?"
The crowd kept up their shouting, pointing and waving for attention. I singled one of them out, a tall man with a forked beard and a yellow silken robe. "What's your issue?"
"Two of my ships were lost at sea during a storm. I need money to rebuild or I'm done for."
Why that would be an affair of the crown, I had no idea, but I could only guess these issues were of Horralain's own imagining. "The treasury will provide you coin to rebuild one ship; a loan you repay once you have earned enough to build a second."
The man bowed his head. "Thank you, wise king." And then he faded away.
I pointed at another member of the crowd, an ancient woman with more wrinkles than hair. "What do you have to bring before the king?" I could not keep the derision from my voice, but Horralain's demons didn't seem to notice.
"My husband is dead and left behind only daughters, and the daughters of daughters. The magistrate says my home should go to my husband's brother."
I scoffed at that. "The home is yours. It belongs to you and whoever you leave it to."
"Thank you. Thank you." The ancient woman sketched an awkward curtsy and faded away, just as the man before her had.
Have you ever wondered just how long it takes for a compassionate ruler to mete out decisions upon their subjects? Horralain's fear conjured less than two hundred of these clamouring demons, and I dealt with every single one. I was beyond bored and struggling to stand by the end of the first ten. By the time the last of the crowd faded away, I felt like leaving Horralain there to rot. Still, I think I acquitted myself quite well. Despite the imaginary kingdom he had constructed, I made the decisions based upon what I thought was fair, and what I thought was believable enough to be accepted. If only my own rule had been so well received. Or maybe if only I had kept a level head more often in such discussions.