Peaceful Town

With a violent jerk, Lysander's body jerked upright as he gasped for air, eyes flying open.

"J-just a dream..." he muttered, his skin drenched in a cold sweat and his breath coming in ragged pants.

His heart pounded in his ears as the vestiges of the nightmare slowly faded. 

Closing his eyes once more, he tried to steady his racing pulse.

"Why?" he whispered with a grimace. "I thought I'd stopped getting these nightmares ages ago... Why are they coming back so frequently now?"

He ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, as if that could force the disturbing images from his mind.

An involuntary shiver ran down his spine as the memory flooded back.

Rotten and bony hands bursting from the ground, clawing at him with a horrifying hunger, "Thanks the high stars I never been particularly well-endowed" he mused, the mere thought made him shudder, grateful that his manhood was too small and unimpressive for those decaying fingers to get a firm grip.

He almost choked on a relieved laugh that the skeletal fingers missed their mark. Just the thought of having it seized and yanked made his stomach churn queasily. 

Opening his eyes once more, Lysander wiped the cold beads of sweat from his brow with a trembling hand.

"What kind of strange, depraved fetishes were those?" he muttered, mouth twisting in disgust, shaking his head in disbelief.

Ignoring the cursing and pleading of the dream figures, his mind was just fixated on the persistent image of a man offering to "warm his bed."

"Why would anyone want to warm my bed like that? Jeez!" he shrugged with a sigh.

"Well, it's not like I can control them," he muttered, flopping back onto the bed. Why waste precious sleep pondering such things?

He was a lazy bum. He needed his rest, needed to clear his mind of these bizarre fantasies.

He wasn't fazed by the brutality of his dream; veterans like him had seen their fair share of battlefield horrors, but... guys warming beds? That was just plain weird.

When next he awoke, Lysander blinked blearily up at the ceiling for several languid moments before the pale golden light registered.

It was already midday at least, the bright sun streaming in through his window.

Yawning widely enough to crack his jaw, he stretched and scratched at the thatch of wiry hair on his chest before rising.

Shrugging into a simple tunic and breeches, he splashed some water on his face from the basin and set about preparing a long-overdue breakfast...or perhaps an early lunch, given the hour.

As he pulled bread, cheese, and cured meats from the pantry, he noted that supplies were running low .

After eating the simple meal, Lysander wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and called out for his only companion. "Cheemse! Let's go get us some milk, boy!"

Bow!

A joyful bark echoed from under the bed.

A light brown blur of fur shot past his legs, tail wagging furiously. Cheemse was little creature of light brown color that looked like a 'Puppy of Wolf Dog'.

Chuckling at the light brown puppy's enthusiasm, Lysander ruffled the wriggling ball of fur before heading for the door. "Come on then, before the day gets any older."

The two set off at an easy pace to the peaceful town environment. Birds sang and squirrels scrambled, chasing each other up the gnarled trunks of the ancient oak trees that lined the main thoroughfare or scampering beneath the loaded carts and between the booted feet of passersby.

Despite the pleasant warmth and cheerful atmosphere, Lysander noted an increased guard presence at the western gate.

Grizzled men in the kingdom colors stood stoic vigil, hands resting on the pommels of their sheathed blades as they scanned the tree line beyond with narrowed eyes.

A steady stream of hunters in weathered leathers also patrolled the area in pairs, quivers thumping against their backs.

Shouts and the dull thrum of many voices drew his gaze to the town square, where a sizable crowd had gathered.

The town chief, his impressive bulk straining the seams of his tunic, appeared to be issuing orders.

The burly man's raised voice carried across the square, grim tones cutting through the general hubbub as he directed hunters to take up positions at key points around the perimeter. 

Curious groups had formed amongst the onlookers, people conversing in small clusters with worried expressions, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Having seen similar scenes numerous times in the past, Lysander had a fair notion of what might be afoot. Still, he ambled over to verify, Cheemse trotting faithfully at his heels.

"What's the commotion, Max?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the din as he addressed the town chief.

The other man turned, his ruddy face made even ruddier by obvious agitation. "There's going to be a beast tide in a couple days' time, by the scouts' best estimates," he grunted, stabbing a meaty finger toward the western tree line.

"Just got the warning this morning. We're fortifying our defenses and implementing security protocols."

With a grunt of acknowledgment, Lysander left the chief to oversee the preparations.

As he strolled toward the market district, the tableau of the town's daily life carried on all around him, children playing and laughing without a care.

They darted about, chasing one another through the streets in a game of tag or huddled in groups, swapping tall tales and crouched over small treasures clutched in grubby fists.

On benches and stoops along the way, the town's eldest residents perched like worn statues, lingering in cloistered pockets of conversation, exchanging bemused looks at the antics of the younger generations.

"Looks like the most peaceful town is about to face its own reckoning," he muttered, a hint of grim amusement in his voice, side-eyeing the townsfolk's cheery.

This little settlement truly was positioned at the farthest extreme corner of the kingdom's borders, far from the other villages and towns.

The population was modest, people live happy and simple life.

Free from the politics and power plays of the nobles and rulers of the capital.

The nearest neighboring village was over a hundred kilometers distant.

 It was isolated, yes, with few merchants or travelers passing through.

Crime was practically nonexistent, the only persistent danger being the wilderness that loomed to the west.

Even then, the beasts lurking there tended to be low-level creatures, not much of a concern for the town's defenses and hunters to handle. As long as they were prepared, remaining vigilant, this truly was the most peaceful place in the entire kingdom.

Upon reaching the marketplace, Lysander overheard a group of people engaged in anxious discussion about the beast tide. Sidling closer, he eavesdropped shamelessly.

"I heard from the hunters that this wave is going to be different, more erratic," one man murmured to his compatriots.

A woman nodded, wringing her hands. "Yes, when I went to gather herbs, there were two guards escorting me instead of the usual one. They were so tense, keeping watch in all directions."

"I saw strange behavior from the beasts myself on my way," another put in. "Alarmingly aggressive, even for their kind."

Worried muttering broke out as they contemplated what such signs might portend for their safety. Would the town's defenses be enough? One portly matron gave a derisive snort, waving a hand dismissively.

"You're all thinking too much into this. We live in the most peaceful place in the entire kingdom! Our hunters are more than capable of dealing with a few unruly beasts. And if that's not reassurance enough..." She leaned in with a conspiratorial air. "Sir Drachen is still residing here, you know."

Surprised gasps and murmurs of approval rippled through the group at the mention of the legendary name. Though they hadn't seen or heard from the famed warrior in years, his mere presence was enough to set their minds at ease.

"That's right, I'd nearly forgotten! One of the prodigies of his generation, settling in our very town..."

"We don't know why he retired and chose to live here, but we're blessed to have his skills!"

As the gossips moved on to cheerier topics, Lysander continued on his way, Cheemse trotting at his heels.

"Beasts behaving abnormally, more guards than usual..." he mused aloud, frowning. "Something is going on...But it's not like I care about such things."

Shaking his head, Lysander sighed and focused on the task at hand. He would leave the worrying to others.

His cares lay solely with keeping his belly full, and his curious pet from getting them both into trouble, as per usual.