His dreams were filled with gold, jewels, and relics, his glorious hoarde. He looked across a bleak and lifeless plain, the only light that shone was from his glowing artifacts he had collected. He was alone, left to survey his gleaming possessions with a covetous pride. The ominous wind carried the stench of pooling coagulated blood, yet it did not deter him. He was home, all the world's wealth and power were his! He would never leave this dream, here he was God. Or.. so he thought. In the distance he could see it, like a building whirlpool of shimmering treasure. What was it? What was happening? A fear welled up within him, a paralyzing fear that froze his joints and held his scream in his throat.His treasure was draining fast through the whirlpool. It was slipping right by him, all of it. He stood frozen, unable to move or call out watching as all of the wealth and the light that shone from it left this bleak plain and soon he was left there, in a darkness so pure there seemed to be nothing but him here. Where was here? Before he realized it, his senses began to fail him. He could hear nothing, feel nothing, and see nothing in the darkness. His mind was leaving.. fading, he felt forgetful. What.. iss.. this?
Waking to a darkened chamber, the fire died down to embers, the cold sea breeze wafting in through the window.His senses returning Sardon grasps frantically at his belt, feeling for his hidden coin purse.He opens it and checks to see that it's contents have not left. Breathing a sigh of relief he rests back down on the bed, staring at the stone ceiling, until the blue light of morning shone through his window and in with it came a dove bearing a letter, he takes it and annoyedly shoos the bird away, putting the note at his bedside without opening it.