[ Of course, nothing was so simple in Laurent's life. Several steps closer towards his uncle, and now a world away.

It takes him longer than he'll care to admit to anyone to realize this is no ploy of his uncle's. In fairness, he wouldn't put anything past his uncle anymore. Were it within his abilities, he surely would have arranged the hell Laurent now found himself in. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite as simple as that.

Starting with the rats. Rats my be understating them, though. They're as large as dogs and just as rabid as one might be. If Laurent is still thrown from his abrupt arrival, he doesn't let it show as he draws his sword. One of the creatures makes a noise at him and he easily points his blade at the three that threaten to circle him. Carefully, he keeps the nearest wall of a shop building to his back. He won't allow himself to be taken so easily. ]

Well? [ He challenges the rats. ] Let's begin.

[ Without a second's hesitation, he lunges forth and spears the first one through his mouth with the end of the blade. Another lunges at him, and he carefully dances out of reach, swinging his blade so as to use the body of the speared ROUS to bludgeon the other. As the other ROUS goes down, the one on his sword slides off. The third sees it's chance to finally try to take his back. ]

[ Laurent has no hope. He has goals. He has ambitions. They will be his reality, because to imagine anything else would be to allow room for failure. He will not allow that sort of room. Hope is wasted on him.

Or so he'd have the world believe.

The mirror knows otherwise. When he finds it, he thinks to move it from his seat and simply set it aside. Yet as he turns it over, something in the mirror catches his eye. Instead of resisting the temptation, he holds it up to examine it closer.

The vision before him could have been pulled straight from the dreams Laurent doesn't dare to let himself have. His eyes narrow as he sees the image of his kingdom, with him sitting at the throne. He wears the crown his father had worn before him. The crown meant for his brother. Except he doesn't just bear it, he somehow deserves it. It shows in the respect the people around him give. People dressed in the usual, laced style of Vere. And among the crowd are the more sparsely dressed Akielons. There's no hatred among the people. Only respect and peace that comes from two countries united.

It's clearer why, too. Next to Laurent stands a broader, darker man, with a commanding presence and a crown of his own. Damianos.

Laurent grips the mirror tightly and turns to the nearest person, his voice cold as ice. ]

Who created this? [ He asks in a tone that expects to be answered. ]