Apologies for long absence. Posting one of the chapters written previously but disregarded. But posting it now since nothing new showed up to replace it...
34 Days Ago
"This is n-not real… B-better not be… Ugh!.. It is?"
Steve pulled back his hand with a hiss. The flames burning his field and fence were not an illusion. Helplessly lowering his torch, Steve glanced around himself with a lost look, swaying quite a bit as he stood on the path leading to his cabin. So much work… All gone! Dismay and then anger swept through him, washing away the earlier elated mood.
Bright embers flew past Steve's face as he turned and searched the darkness of surrounding forest. He could distinctly feel his visitor's presence nearby radiating a dark, vengeful mirth.
"I k-know you're here. H-hhherabra-a…" His tongue felt thick in his mouth, refusing to pronounce Herobrine's name.
"Hmmm." A huff sounded from the side. Spinning and immediately swaying on unsteady feet, Steve squinted at his white-eyed twin casually leaning against the front porch beam, his arms folded across his chest. Amusement fought with disgust on his face as he regarded Steve with visible disappointment written all over his face. Steve grimaced, his eyes turning blurry with tears.
"W-why? Just… why?" Steve's voice turned into a hurt, slurring whine. "W-what did I… even do to you?... For you… to do this…" Steve gestured to the burning field. A fence log crashed to the ground just then. Steve stared at it briefly, recalling how he had carefully cut and trimmed each one, smiling as he did the work that would last him years. Turning back to Herobrine, he saw the faint guilt cross his twin's face before it was firmly banished, replaced by stubborn resentfulness.
Steve couldn't understand the reason for it. It was as if Herobrine was punishing him for something. Why was he so mean again? After their short exchange a week ago, Steve had dared to hope that they reached an understanding of some sort. And now it was back to this?
"I worked for 'ours on that… Its ruined n-now!" Steve could barely keep himself from crying.
"That's it?" Came Herobrine's wry voice. Steve blinked at him in confusion. "You are not going to stand up for yourself? You look like you're about to cry… I have never met a player… a mortal as weak and pitiful as you. This is pathetic."
Herobrine made a huff and leaned his head back against the wooden beam.
"Where is your sword?" A note of exasperation slipped into Herobrine's strangely mixed-up mood. The tints of it changed too swiftly for Steve to make out with his ale muddled mind.
"Why? 'M not gonna f-fight you… I said this before…" Steve lowered his eyebrows in resent. Herobrine's lips twitched.
"Fight?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Right now, you couldn't fight a baby creeper… If it wasn't for my servants, you'd be dead by now."
"What?... Oh…" Herobrine meant that Steve could have been ambushed by mobs on his way home. He… didn't even think about that. He was sure he'd be safe. His sword? Where was it?
Steve tried to summon it to his hand and stared blankly at his calloused empty palm, before his eyes turned to the ground. Did he drop it? The dirt path overgrown with tall patches of grass and flowers swam in and out of focus in his vision.
Steve swayed a little, his gaze growing unfocused as he tried to recall just what did he do with his sword. And then a brief image came.
He stood with one foot on the bench and another on the table, very long and lined with dishes and containers of food. Several faces held turned toward him, intently listening with interest, while others looked toward the crowd on the streets, where many town residents were jovially clapping in tune to music as others danced.
"Cheers for Steve! Hooray!" Steve saw several people cheering, cups of ale raised in their hands in his honor. He also held one and distinctly felt the liquid spilling and soaking his sleeve. His collar and entire front of his shirt was already soaked wet and stained. In his other hand he held his iron sword, which he lifted to the sky in challenge.
He was shouting something. Steve couldn't quite recall his own words, only that he felt very good, very confident. His eyes held on the many people in town, who yelled to support him, and thought how wonderful they all were, their friendly faces blushing with excitement and good will.
"I dunno… D-dropped it?" Steve admitted. "I'll… I'll find it to-eek…tmorrow." He said stubbornly.
"You're drunk." His twin's voice held flat accusation, which immediately made Steve throw up his head in affronted indignation.
"S-so what! I c-can have a d-drink… If I want!… Eek!... I am… 'M a Miner!" Steve raised his voice, frowning at his visitor with resentment. He was not a child!
Herobrine merely blew out another frustrated huff and turned away. Steve frowned even more at the careless look on the man's face. Why did Herobrine always ignore what he, Steve, wanted? All he wanted to do was live in peace and… and have everyone be nice to him!
"Tell him! Tell him to stop it! Tell him that if he doesn't, then he'll have to deal with all of us!"
Steve suddenly heard a voice tell him in his memory. It definitely belonged to Swenson, his buddy, the first town resident he befriended upon arriving to this town. Slamming down his nearly empty cup on the wooden table, the smaller, scrawny looking man in merchant attire turned to the young man whom he earlier that day introduced to Steve as his newest acquaintance. Steve couldn't quite recall the young man's name, yet, only once again felt that brief strange feeling that he knew him from somewhere as the young man's dark brown eyes considered Steve with strange, rueful disappointment.
"We should… We should go and tell him!" Swenson firmly declared. The other young man shrugged, frowning as he returning his attention back to the steak on his plate, which he worried with his fork without taking another bite. The cup of ale also remained next to his plate, untouched.
"He's completely drunk, Earl. You don't really believe that actual Herobrine would come here to play mean tricks on a small-town Miner of all people, right?" The young man's voice held disappointment and frustration.
Wait… Steve frowned as his memory continued to give him more moments from his time at today's celebration. Did he… tell Swenson about Herobrine?
"Still! If what Steve is saying is true, we need to stop it! I don't care who that monster is, he must leave Steve alone or else!..." Steve's buddy continued to frown, before turning to the other town residents at their table, who were listening to their conversation with too much interest.
"We should go to the mansion and show him! Set HIS house on fire and see how he likes that! Teach that white eyed ghost a lesson!… Am I right?" Quite a few people heartily nodded at Swenson's comment and broke into excited conversation.
"We should! About time! We're not scared of him!" Someone jumped up and shook his fist with enthusiasm, with more voices agreeing. Steve no longer paid attention to any of it. Content that his complaints were taken seriously and perceiving his friend's support as balm to his wronged feelings, he had put his head down on the table and closed his blurry eyes. The rest of the moments came through in periodic glimmers.
"…Yeah!"
"…Let's go!"
"…Let's go show him!"
"…To the Mansion!"
Another part of the fence fell, sending a plume of embers flying past Steve's face, reclaiming his attention from the hazy memories. Distracted, Steve frowned at the work of his hands, ruined by Herobrine's continued mean jokes.
"You need to s-stop!..." Steve waved with exaggerated gesture at his ruined field. "This is too much! You keep… eeek! Coming here and… bothering me! Go bother… heroes! Not me… I didn't do anything… eek wrong!"
"Why don't you tell all this to him yourself, then? If it bothered you so much." Another voice spoke to Steve, a little angry. Lifting his flushed face from the table, Steve groggily blinked at Swenson's new friend with lack of comprehension. The young man frowned back at him, his brown eyes filled with annoyance. "You say that you're not scared of him. You are not scared of Great Herobrine. Because he is not really as mean as everyone says he is."
Perceiving the mocking hidden in young man's last words directed at him, Steve frowned. "I am not. Not scared!"
Young man huffed. "Tell him, then. Stand up for yourself!"
Suddenly encouraged by the challenge in his hazy memory, Steve tried to stand up straighter on unsteady feet. Moving his shoulders back and clenching his fists, Steve glared at his lookalike with breath noisily pulled in and out of his nostrils.
"Stop t-this!" At Steve's angrily raised voice, Herobrine turned with slight surprise and considered Steve, before his lips twitched in a slight smile. Obviously, he was not taking anything Steve said very seriously.
"Stop!" Steve raised his voice and thrust a pointed finger in Herobrine's direction. "Or… Or I'll…"
"Or you will do what?..." This time Herobrine's white eyes narrowed, their glow burning brighter. His dangerously low and soft tone suddenly sent a twinge of fear through Steve's slowed mind, where first inklings of doubt appeared on whether he should be provoking his powerful visitor like this.
Only Herobrine wouldn't hurt him. Not really. Steve was sure of it now! He was no longer nearly as hostile as that day in the mansion, when Steve walked in uninvited and got mistaken by Herobrine for one of the heroes, who often sought Herobrine out for a challenge. While Herobrine had never apologized for harming Steve that day, he did explain why he nearly killed Steve and Steve considered that as close enough to an apology as he could hope for.
Herobrine spoke very angrily of human heroes, who would often invade his mansions and try to attack or injure him. Steve could understand the being's frustration. But… That didn't give Herobrine the right to treat Steve like a… like a… Steve stubbornly stuck out his chin and puffed out his chest.
"M not 'fraid of you a-anymore!" Steve warned, determined to prove to Herobrine that he was not the weak-kneed coward that Herobrine took him for. "I'm not… not your toy. I… I want you to… to fix this! Right now!" He demanded, stabbing his finger toward the fence.
Herobrine's eyebrow crept up and he watched him a moment longer, the glow of his eyes remaining bright. "And if I don't?"
Steve's face crumpled as tears once again came into his eyes. He… really couldn't make this being listen, could he? And he really was helpless. He couldn't make Herobrine do anything because he was just a helpless human. "M so t-tired of this… You… You k-keep coming and d-doing this to me! I didn't do anything t'you… Only went to your h-house… Once… Um… Twice… But I didn't mess it up!... Except that t-table. 'M sorry!... I… I only went to look! It wasn't to-to fight you! And… You punished me a-already for… for that! Eeek… A-and… This… This is t-too much!"
Steve concluded and sniffled as a childlike pout held on his face. "Tis not r-right, Herobra… Brine!" He forced his tangling words to say Herobrine's name and briefly felt satisfied at that effort.
Met with silence, Steve skewed his eyes to his twin and found Herobrine watching him with a hint of guilt breaking through his mood. Steve might have imagined it, though, since the being's face instead scowled with anger.
"And you needed a little drink to get enough courage to tell me that? Very well, mortal. If that is your wish… Here…"
With idle scorn, Herobrine gestured in Steve's direction and Steve unwillingly flinched as something bright flew to his feet. Gasping, he suspiciously looked down and froze, his blue eyes widening in astonishment at the pile of diamonds bobbing up and down on the ground. He had never seen such of this size and quality before. Nearly translucent, as they shone with embers of flame reflecting in their perfect crystalline edges.
"Your recompense… For my good time…" Herobrine's voice held obvious derision and even with his thoughts muddled as they were, Steve felt strong hurt go through him, though he didn't know what words to say in response. Words refused to come. Herobrine regarded Steve with white eyes, where old mistrust and dislike once again predominated.
"Don't worry. I won't be bothering you any longer." Herobrine bitterly concluded and Steve only blinked at that in rising confusion. He could distinctly feel the hint of hurt in the seething resentment he sensed in his lookalike's mood, despite Herobrine's expression remaining only that of despising anger.
Ignoring the diamonds, his heart troubled because he couldn't understand what was going on and why Herobrine was acting more like his old self again, Steve watched his twin's face for clues to tell him of the being's true intentions. Herobrine observed the confusion on Steve's face, his anger swiftly receding to rueful amusement instead. He made a small huff.
"You don't even remember what you did. Do you?"
Steve silently shook his head and felt his world sway a little as a wave of nausea suddenly came to him. "Why? What happened?"
Steve did not yet finish his question when another scene suddenly unfolded in his mind.
"H-he is really here… Herobrine! And I don't mean the-the ghost… I mean the real himl! Lord of the Nether… Ruler of Monsters… He's here and he's been here… for… for m-months! Real Herobrine." Steve's own voice confided in loud whisper to his carefully listening friend. Leaning so close that he was nearly hanging on Swenson's shoulder, his friend's arm securely keeping Steve from falling off the bench, Steve could no longer hold back the secret that's been bothering him for months now. It reassured him that his friend appeared to listen to him with full seriousness, frowning as he did so. Several other town residents at the same table also leaned in, intently listening to Steve's complaints.
"…Let's go!"
"… Show him!... He doesn't scare us!"
"… Not a god… Real gods defeated him already!"
"… Mansion!"
"… Set it on fire!"
"… Send that Monster back to the Nether where he belongs!"
Dimly, Steve recalled waking up and seeing an entire mob gathered around his table, where half-drunk town residents brandished torches, swords, and axes. Sleepily, he glanced at them, and then just dropped his head down again, his cheek smooshed against the well-weathered old wood. An empty cup of ale sat before his nose, obscuring his unfocused vision.
Steve gaped.
"N-no…"
Today, at the festival, he had done something that he had promised Herobrine that he would never do. Granted, he had made that promise out of fear, but… That later changed. Did he… tell everyone in town about Herobrine and that he was the real thing and not a ghost?
He remembered feeling strange resent, which he usually suppressed. It grew with the amount of ale he continued to consume, first at his visiting friend's encouragement and then because his elated mood told him to. At first exhilarated, his mood began to grow dark as some of the less friendly scenes of his encounters with Herobrine began to come into his mind. Soon it became all he could think about, filled to the brim with resent.
"What's wrong? What's on your mind, bud?" Swenson asked, laying his hand on Steve's shoulder. And it was like something moved Steve, then. He couldn't help it as the story he kept carefully hidden beneath shy smiles whenever he came to town, suddenly began to spill. Swenson had been his good friend, not only taking him in when Steve first wandered into their town without a single coin or tool to make a living, but showing him around, speaking for him before the mayor, enough to convince the older man to give the suspicious young wagabond a chance to prove himself as a Miner. Swenson had left town, intent on following his dream of becoming a merchant, so his visits here remained infrequent. But he and Steve still remained friends.
So, Steve told him everything. He told him about how he encountered Herobrine in the mansion and what the being did to him, nearly killing Steve. Steve told his friend that this Herobrine was real, unlike the ghost who usually dwelled in that place, asleep until disturbed by the arrival of true heroes. And Steve complained how it seemed that Herobrine spared Steve only for what seemed as his amusement, when he would come and torment Steve with scary gests. Steve admitted that he didn't dare tell anyone for fear that this would anger Herobrine and he might not just kill Steve but attack the town in revenge for Steve's betrayal, since that's what Herobrine promised should Steve ever betray him.
Steve's tale had been a mix of true events and his own guesses and stuff he had picked up from all those tales he read, desperate to figure out what to do and how to act around the monster that continued to return.
Swenson took his words seriously. His indignation had been a balm to Steve's heart. Contented, Steve calmed down and… went to sleep? Still sitting at that table, which many residents put out upon town streets for the celebration of the Festival of Gifts. Songs and dancing and music, and many voices talking at once, had become a dim background, which lulled Steve into a dazed slumber. Still, he had been aware of moments when he managed to pry open his heavy eyes.
There, his friend turning and talking to several others nearby about what Steve revealed to them.
And next, an entire crowd gathered around determined Swenson, all of them ignoring Steve entirely as they intently listened to the merchant, demanding that they should go and take care of the white-eyed monster that dwelled in the mansion nearby and terrorized their town on occasion.
"If what he says is true and it's the real Herobrine who comes here, then it's too dangerous for us to do." Someone more reasonable tried to voice their doubts. "We should send a call for aid. To the heroes."
"And do you have the money to give to them, huh? Franson, heroes will not work for free!"
"Some of them would."
"Most won't! And they can cause as much trouble in our town if not more than that white-eyed Monster ever did! He wakes up what, once or twice a few years? And even then, its mostly just a few days of trouble at best. Our golems and walls can take care of a few zombies, Matrol. But if those heroes start coming here like they do in other towns up West, then watch. It's going to get so much worse. Tell them, Grayn!"
"Well, I think our young friend here is just drunk. It's probably not real. Just one of the stories he tells." The merchant's voice sounded uncertain and uneasy.
"Oh? I never heard him say anything at all, before."
"That's because he's shy around us, Matrol. But he tells stories to them kids."
"Oh yeah! You should talk to Jeremy and his gang. They're always hanging around his place. He tells them stories for sure. Steve, the Great Adventurer!" This time it was Greg's voice that spoke. The friendly guard at the gate lightly chuckled, too, when just then Steve had looked up at his name and grinned at them.
A small crowd stood around their table, with some town residents even brandishing weapons. Steve sheepishly waved his hand at them all and simply put his face down again, so several cups and plates of half-eaten food obscured his vision. He could still see Swenson's new friend, the young man with brown hair and eyes, who sat at the table before his plate with steak and considered the crowd with a look of slight concern and disbelief. He glanced at Steve with what seemed like disappointment.
"What?" Steve demanded, then, affronted. The young man shook his head and only dropped his gaze back to his plate, his frown not leaving as he stabbed the steak, his lips pinched a little. Just then, the town guards arrived, their faces sour because unlike most town residents this night, they had to remain sober.
"All right. Break it up. Break it up." Annoyed, calm voice of the town captain sounded as the excited murmurs in the crowd began to quickly quiet down. Steve then passed out again.
"… Time to go home, Steve." Steve heard someone say in a wry tone and felt hands wrestling him up from the table. Dimly, he recalled someone leading him to the town gate and thrusting a torch in his hands, pushing him on the path leading through the already darkened woods to his cabin. He left in a daze, leaving the bright hanging lanterns and rowdy music and dancing on the streets behind him.
What had he done?
His heart falling at the dim fragments of memories emerging in his foggy mind, Steve gaped a little, not willing to believe it. Gulping, he turned and found white eyes watching him. Now, Herobrine's strange mood and vengefulness made sense. It was even strange that he was more amused than angry. His mood now held regret, with even a hint of strange embarrassment. Although the last Steve might have imagined, due to the uneven lighting cast by the fire and the torches.
Steve's eyes unwillingly fell to Herobrine's faintly scarred hand, where black nails glinted. Were they always so abnormally long and sharp? Steve made a nervous gulp, suddenly recalling the relentless feel of this hand closed around his throat, hoisting him in the air. His heart jumped, sending a dose of mind-clearing fear rushing through and dispelling some of the haze from his mind.
"M sorry… It was the-the festival…" Steve stammered. "My-my friend came to visit a-and… He invited… He invited me… I had too m-much to drink." Steve admitted, dropping his gaze in shame. Immediately, he felt some mistrust in his counterpart's mood lessening.
"Certainly." Herobrine confirmed dryly out loud.
"M sorry. I… I told them… About you…" Overwhelmed with sincere regret, Steve hung his head, turning his gaze guiltily to the ground as his entire frame slumped. Only a moment later, though, another thought occurred to him, and he perked up, giving his twin a hopeful look.
"M-maybe… They didn't believe it?… I… I'll tell 'em that I… made everything up! T'morrow!" He promised.
"Hmmm. I'm afraid it's a little too late for that." His twin's voice sounded almost calm, despite a hint of regret. "I will have to leave this place. At least for some time."
Leave? Steve's face fell. His twin meant what he just said. Steve felt it very, very clearly. Herobrine paused, glancing at Steve, and suddenly crookedly grinned.
"Don't worry. It's not really your fault. Something like this was bound to happen. What else should I have expected? I don't know myself why I kept coming here so often. I don't know what I was thinking… Befriending a player? Me? The Great Herobrine?" Herobrine's voice held bitter mocking tones. "How stupid of me… But you are right. I did treat you… too harshly. Your complaints against me hold merit… This recompense should be more than enough."
Frowning a little, Herobrine nodded idly to the diamonds at Steve's feet, his voice uncaring, even though his mood said otherwise, permeated by embarrassed discomfort that Herobrine tried to suppress. Steve didn't pay attention anymore, turmoil running through his heart. Herobrine was going to leave? Because of what he, Steve, did? Why was he so stupid?
"Do not worry, mortal. I won't bother you again. You can enjoy your game in peace from now on." Herobrine's gaze held Steve's eyes. "Farewell."
With a slight nod to Steve, he vanished. Startled, Steve stared at the empty place where only purple particles swirled around, quickly vanishing into the darkness. The fire in the field was also dying down.
No…
Steve hastily made a few steps forward and looked around him, dismay sweeping through him. He didn't want to believe this. This was not what he wanted to happen! He wanted Herobrine to stop being so mean and see him as a person rather than a… a toy or a pet of some kind! He didn't want him to leave completely!
Turning around, Steve searched the dark woods and then looked at his cabin, generously lit by the light of several torches set around it. Maybe Herobrine only turned invisible? But no, his presence was moving away in a rapid shift of distance, probably as he continued to teleport away in a series of small jumps.
"No! I didn't mean…" Steve began to say, hoping that he would still be somehow heard, but fell short when his twin's presence suddenly vanished completely. Herobrine had left Steve's world.
Steve's shoulders slumped. Last embers of fire were dying down in his ruined field, but he no longer cared about it at all. This morning, he woke up happy and excited. How did it come and turn from that to this? Steve helplessly asked himself.
Dejected, Steve stepped to the diamonds and reluctantly picked them up, not sure what to do with such riches. He certainly could not take them for trade in town. How would he explain where he got it all? Tell them that Herobrine gave it to him? Steve meant what he said to Herobrine earlier. First thing tomorrow morning, he was going to tell his friend Swenson that he made the whole thing up because… because he read one too many stories of myths and legends in the town library. Swenson would believe that for sure, since he knew Steve and how much he liked to read. But he would think for sure that Steve was lying if Steve showed up with all these diamonds.
With some regret, Steve stared at the incredible riches that would many times cover not just the damages done to his field and fence, but probably could buy him the best of enchanted tools and weapons he always dreamed about but could never afford.
He could not even claim that he found a vein in a mine, since these gems were too perfect. Perhaps in the ancient mine shafts in some rare treasure chest? Even if the mayor of this town believed him, soon everyone would be asking Steve exactly where he found this treasure. The lands around the town belonged to the town, not Steve. And while they gladly allowed him to mine and trade here, if word of such treasure spread, then many adventurers would soon flock here. And Steve did not want anything to do with them.
Steve felt a chill as disturbing memory tried to come up.
Several Miners intently watched him, blocking his way out of the mines. The dim light of the torches showed their grim features, reflecting in their cold eyes, where their expression alone told Steve that even if he gave them everything that he mined that day, leading them to the rich vein of precious gems that he recently found, he would not make it out of there alive.
A shiver went through Steve. Abruptly turning, he strode back to the house, trying to push the disturbing memory back where it came from. Flinging his door open, Steve's eyes searched out the comforting sight of shelves, tools, his kitchen, his table and chairs, and he relaxed a little. He was alone and safe once more.
Then, Steve's eyes fell on the square-shaped package that sat on his table, wrapped in brown paper – the only gift he had left behind when he left this morning to go with his visiting buddy Swenson to the great celebration. All the other gifts that Steve had prepared he had meticulously labeled with the names of those he intended to give them to. This present did not have a name. Steve sighed, as another wave of dismay rushed through him.
Turning away from the door, Steve let it close and found his well-crafted, comfortable chair, still on his porch where he set it up months ago, right before meeting Herobrine. Going over to it, Steve sunk down with a discouraged huff and buried his face in his hands.
This was not at all what Steve hoped would happen. What had he done?
It's been nearly a week since the last time he saw Herobrine. And… He really thought that… He was looking forward to the "good long talk" that Herobrine half-promised, half-threatened last time. For the first time, Steve saw with his own two eyes that Herobrine was not the same being as the ghost, who normally dwelled in the mountain mansion. There really were two distinct individuals - the eerie ghost, whom Steve had seen before on his first visit to the mansion. And there was another, who looked just like him, but wasn't. Was Herobrine Steve met the… real person behind the myths and legends that Steve so eagerly searched for? Finally, Steve hoped to find out.
Instead, he got drunk and told everyone about him, complaining about Herobrine's earlier mean slights. Why did he remember that time and not what happened later, how Herobrine protected him and even saved him on a couple of occasions?
Steve frowned, thoroughly disappointed with himself. And now Herobrine was gone, possibly for good. And it had been all Steve's fault! A strong sense of loss, at first faint, rose until it became nearly overwhelming. Still quite drunk, Steve let out a hurt sob, which became a hiccup, and rubbed his face with somewhat grimy hands that still smelled of ale and greasy pork chops he remembered piling on his plate last.
Maybe… Maybe Herobrine will come back. A muddled thought suddenly came to Steve, slightly lightening his mood.
Then, he would apologize and give him his diamonds back. He really didn't want them, though many people would definitely think that strange. No, all Steve wanted was… To live a quiet life and be at peace with everyone, enjoying simple things in his time off work, like eating a well-prepared meal, relaxing by warm fireplace in cold days, listening to the songs of birds as he unhurriedly walked through the forest at sunrise. And spending time with friends and seeing them happy and well. These are the things Steve wanted more than any riches. Though he did occasionally dream of adventure and seeing the places in the world of which he had only read about until now.
The appearance of Herobrine in his life proved at first terrifying, but now that Steve knew more about him, Steve felt growing wonder and curiosity. According to the legends, Herobrine was nearly immortal, alive for who knows how many years and able to travel the world in the blink of an eye! What had he seen? What great tales could he tell him?
Steve could only hope that Herobrine would get over his perceived insult and return. He was able to feel Herobrine's presence near him somehow, most of the time. So, if Herobrine returned, he would know. He would go to him, apologize and then… Steve wasn't quite sure what he hoped for. It was probably too much to hope that a legendary being would ever come to consider him as any sort of friend. What other attitude could a dangerous immortal have toward a lowly, unimpressive human such as him? At best, Herobrine might considered him an amusing distraction from his other affairs and contests with great heroes. Not a friend...
At that very moment, Steve felt a warm breath as a snout of a half-tame dog nosed his face. Looking up, Steve ruefully smiled at the visiting canine's sympathetic nuzzle. He petted the dog's thick fur with returned affection.
"It's fine, Kelly. All good. It will be all right." Steve muttered to the dog, still struggling to get his muddled thoughts together. Maybe he shouldn't worry when he couldn't even think straight. What happened, happened, and there was no changing that. Steve concluded with regret and gave the dog an encouraging pat. Perhaps counting her job as complete, the creature nosed him again and took off once again into the dark.
Steve watched it disappear into the darkness outside. Once again feeling very lonely, he wondered if he should choose himself a real companion as a pet. Eight dogs already lived here when Swenson led him to this old cabin, then heavily damaged as it had stood abandoned for months. The previous owner's dogs now lived in the local woods, half-feral. They stole food in town and so were treated as pests to be driven away. Steve gave some of them food from his hunts on occasion, but never sought to tame them. The memory of what happened to his previous companions before remained too painful for him to attempt to replace the animals he remembered with new ones.
Briefly, Steve smiled at the memory of caring for six tiny pups that he found and raised, naming each one and treating them as friends. They had been loyal to him, to the last.
Steve's smile faltered as the memory he didn't wish to recall came back to him once more.
Dazed, he came to, only to hear the barking of dogs and whimpers, which cut off abruptly as several voices swore at the beasts in the dark. His heart sinking, Steve struggled to stand up from the shallow, cold water of the underground stream where he found himself, for some reason sitting in the mud. His clothes and hair were filthy and soaked. No matter how much he tried to remember what happened, he couldn't. Still, driven by fear and foreboding clenching his stomach, Steve stumbled a few steps to the large, protruding rock, from where he could see the rest of the mine.
There, he saw his worst fears come true. His throat tightened with sobs that tried to come up but remained unvoiced, stifled, as Steve cast a helpless look at the brutal scene below, where the group of six Miners that he encountered in the caves earlier had just finished slaying the last of his pets. Tears fell down Steve's cheeks. He crouched a bit longer on the edge of the cave, shivering as cold water ran down from his drenched clothes, mixing with blood of several deep, aching sword cuts. And then, unable to resist the powerful feeling that told him to flee, to leave this place before anyone noticed him, Steve turned and limped away, disappearing into the darkness of the cave. He would keep going, without supplies or tools, away from the town where he lived for almost three years. He didn't know why he couldn't turn back. He should have at least gone home to take his tools and maybe he should have complained to the town guards about these Miners and how they had attacked him in the mines. But, for some reason he fled, instead…
In the present once more, Steve sighed, giving up thoughts of getting new pets. He didn't have the heart for it. Not yet, anyway. Maybe, one day?
Turning away, he dragged his feet to his cabin and went inside, going straight to his bed where he collapsed. Within moments, he was asleep.
…
Four hours later
Steve still slept when a figure appeared standing in his small cottage.
Herobrine frowned at the slightly snoring and drooling player with mixed feelings passing through his expression, changing between disgust, suspicion, anger, and disbelief, before dark brows drew deeper over mistrustfully narrowed white eyes.
A potion appeared in his hands and Herobrine cast it to the ground next to the player. Only Steve's slightly slowing heart-beat and calmer breathing spoke of his changing state, as Steve's slumber grew deeper.
Making a step toward him, Herobrine touched the sleeping Miner's shoulder, noting the slightly stained shirt that the human did not even bother to change. And a moment later, he and Steve vanished from Steve's cabin.
They reappeared in a stone-bricked chamber upon a small platform. Before them lay a shimmering rectangular space made by slightly glowing green blocks with metallic patterns on them and slitted eyestones held framed upon each. Darkened space around the structure held barely distinguishable details of ancient, stone walls with repeating motifs and stairs.
Almost immediately, several tall beings appeared next to Herobrine, their skin glistening pure black in the dim light cast by his white eyes. The eyes of the creatures glimmered with the same white as Herobrine's. Carefully, Herobrine let go of Steve's sleeping form, which remained suspended, floating in the air next to him. The Miner only made a small snore, which startled one of the Endermen into making an uncertain croak, its eyes warily focusing and glaring on the slumbering human's figure.
"Don't worry. This player is not dangerous… I think… " Herobrine grumbled with a slightly uncertain tone. The Ender creature made another sound, which sounded dubious, to which Herobrine responded with an irritated frown. "That's what I am about to find out. Keep guard of this place until I return."
Stepping through the shimmering surface of the night sky within the square at their feet, the white-eyed being vanished with Steve in tow. Two of the white-eyed endermen remained, while the rest vanished and took positions above the small pyramid that now marked the spot of their master's entrance to his own temporary, mirrored gaming dimension.
Exchanging a few sounds in casual conversation that no one except them could understand, the beings that looked like Endermen turned from time to time, keeping a careful eye on their surroundings. Many empty-minded mobs spawned nearby to roam the vast expanse of the grassy hills, only to vanish a set amount of time later as no players appeared. Herobrine's servants ignored those, since they did not present a danger.
Meanwhile, silently stepping across end stone, crunching under his boots, Herobrine drew Steve's floating form close to the edge of the island and fearlessly regarded the surrounding endless abyss. His white eyes narrowing on a vague mass up ahead, he teleported again. A look around revealed more of the same life-less terrain. This island was tiny. In the distance, more islands hovered in permanent dusk, with deformed intricate shapes rising to the empty sky in frozen patterns of black, where small purple flowers bloomed. Here and there, slender black mobs appeared, surrounded by clouds of melting, purple particles. Their lilac eyes stared blankly ahead as their attention briefly scanned the area next to them, before they teleported again. They ignored Herobrine and his charge.
Glancing at still sleeping Miner, whose face seemed peaceful, Herobrine faintly smirked and turned away. What he planned wouldn't hurt Steve. He needed to know, though, once and for all, whether this player spoke the truth or only feigned his mind-damaged state. He needed to know where he came from and who he was.
A careless gesture of a hand cast forth a small, rotating block, which began to unfold at Herobrine's silent command. His white eyes expressionlessly watched as one block became many, forming an even square platform where bright lines shot up, coming together into concentric patterns where light ran across the edges, shifting their brightness - waiting mode. Another silent gesture sent Steve's form to float forward and lower gently in the middle of the structure.
"Begin analysis." Herobrine commanded with a clipped tone.
…
Steve felt groggy upon waking.
"Ugh… My head…" He groaned and instantly recalled Swenson's grinning face as he poured more ale into Steve's unfinished cup. Just how much did Steve end up drinking last night?
Steve didn't bother to guess. Just barely managing to pry open his eyes, he squinted at the chest a few steps away. Would a healing potion work against hangover? It's been a long, long time since Steve felt this bad. The last time it happened… No, the last time didn't compare to this. This was pure torture.
His tongue felt parched and dry, numb in his mouth where an unpleasant aftertaste held as if he bit into a chunk of raw, rotten flesh. At the image of that, his stomach lurched as a wave of nausea made him gag. Light unbearably pounded upon his eyes and Steve tightly squeezed them shut and groaned again.
"Ha..." An amused voice spoke next to him. "That's why I don't drink."
Startled, Steve threw up an anxious look and with wide eyes stared at a stranger, who sat on a chair in his cabin. Dressed in simple, dark-brown travelling attire, the young man considered Steve. Brown eyes held amusement and a strangely familiar smirk crossed the young man's features.
"Here. This should help with that." He said and tossed forward something. Steve automatically caught it and then blinked at the object without comprehension. "It's a healing potion of sort. Specifically for hangovers. I made it myself."
Steve still stared at the bottle with mistrust, struggling to remember if he met this young stranger yesterday at the festival celebration. He did look very familiar.
"You don't remember me? Really?" Young man raised his eyebrows. "You invited me here, you know. At the celebration?"
"No…" Steve fell back down in bed, not feeling up to thinking or doing anything now. Iron hammers pounded in his temples.
"What do you remember? Is anything of what you told everyone about Herobrine true? Or was it just a story? Like that other one you told about fighting the Enderdragon?"
The young man's curious question made Steve throw up his head at him in alarm. Headache pounded in his head as he squinted at his unwanted visitor. The young man grinned again, his brown eyes on Steve holding mild, amicable, yet somehow cautious interest.
"What… What did I say?" Steve verified awkwardly.
"You told everyone that real Herobrine comes here now and that he is after you." The slightly sarcastic look on the young man's face showed Steve that he didn't take Steve's claims seriously.
"N-no… I made it up. I just like… telling stories." Steve mumbled and saw the young man nod, still appearing amused, though his brown eyes for some reason relaxed, growing warmer.
"That's what I figured. Go ahead. Drink that potion. It will really make you feel better."
Steve considered the potion he held and cautiously sniffed it. Clear liquid with a greenish cast lit up in the beam of sunlight that fell through the windows. The young mage amicably grinned.
"It's not poisoned. Well, it is? But it's supposed to work that way. It's a poison against… other poisons? Don't worry, I already tested it this morning. On Swenson." The young stranger reassured with an amused tone and Steve finally recalled who he was. Squinting his blue eyes on his visitor, Steve searched his familiar face.
"M-Miguel?" He verified uncertainly. For some reason, the clearest image was that of this young man goofing off when Swenson first introduced him as a beginner mage with a specialization in potion making. At those words, the young man Swenson pulled out several potions, which he began to juggle in the air with amazing dexterity and caught them all, striking the pose of a circus performer. 'Ta daaa!' He declared, grinning as he made a small bow, while both Steve and Swenson couldn't help smiling at him.
The young man's smirk became a dazzling beam of bright teeth. "Ah! You do remember me! Yes! Miguel Santiago Deswain, at your service! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Steve of Garstone. Again."
Ignoring the annoyingly cheerful fellow, Steve gave the potion bottle another sniff and shrugged, downing it. Immediately, he felt changes in his body and relaxed. It was not poison, indeed. Pleasant comfort was spreading across his body, refreshing his mind and sweeping fatigue away. His muddled thoughts began to clear.
"Feeling better?" The young man asked sympathetically. Gratefully, Steve nodded and noticed that no nausea resulted this time at the movement. Carefully squinting open one eye, he then opened them fully and smiled at the sunlight streaming into his room from the open window, before startling and hurrying to his feet. A few steps carried him to the door, which he pushed open, and blinked at the sun that was already well above in the trees, indicating very late morning.
All his chores that needed to be done! He wouldn't be able to finish it all!
Wait…
Never mind. He did it all yesterday, since he planned to take several days off to celebrate in town. He just needed to feed his animals and that's all. Everything else could be done another time, after the festivals had passed.
Steve relaxed, only to startle when something clanked on his table behind him. Turning, he found his visitor taking out more potion bottles. Out of somewhere he had produced a bag, where he was now roving through as he pulled out several plates of leftovers. Noticing Steve's puzzled stare, the youth gave Steve a mischievous look.
"I need to make a few more potions. I'm sure there will be good business for them in this town in next few days, do you agree?"
Steve nodded, watching how the mage pulled out more ingredients, completely taking over his kitchen table.
"You invited me to stay with you for a few days, remember?" Miguel reminded with a hint of a smile, still intent on his potions. "I'm kidding. I won't actually stay here. Maybe for a few hours, that's all. I just came to check on you, that's all. Swenson was worried this morning if you reached home all right. But it's too crowded here. I'll probably just stay at the inn."
Steve relaxed at this reassurance with relief, but then smiled. "Well, if I invited you here, then you are welcome to stay however long you like. I know this place is small, but it has room enough. I even have a guest room, there." Steve pointed to the tiny small room to the left of the kitchen. Glancing there, the young mage beamed.
"Really? I thought you were just kidding. That's really nice of you, Steve. Swenson really was right about you. You do have a good heart. A bit too good to be true, even. I have not met many people like you."
The young man's voice sounded very friendly, but for some reason Steve caught a bit of tenseness behind those words and frowned. He just opened his mouth to say something, when a memory of last night's events flashed before his eyes. Herobrine!
Steve jumped up and strode the few steps to his door, pushing it open and staring at the completely undamaged fence and field, where crops of wheat already reached full height, ready for harvesting. His eyes searched the area for any sign that what happened last night was not a dream. His memories remained hazy.
Hopefully, Steve hastily checked his inventory and felt his heart fall once more at the sight of multiple diamond stacks in his inventory. Then… it all really happened?
Not a dream, then.
His eyes returned to the undamaged field and fence, and he sighed. Herobrine and his illusions. Sometimes he could not tell what he dreamed and what was real anymore. Discouraged, Steve stared at his inventory a little longer and frowned. No, he was never drinking this much again. No matter who tried to get him to do it. Friends or no friends. At least, not ever this much.
"Hey. Are you all right?" At the young visitor's concerned tone, Steve looked up and somewhat gloomily shrugged. An attempt to feel gave him nothing. Herobrine was either gone from this world or didn't wish to be found. Catching brown eyes regarding him and the brilliant smile fading to show concern, Steve sighed again.
He didn't know this young man that well, really. He stayed fairly quiet after Swenson introduced him to Steve, just tagging along with them wherever Swenson took them both. And Swenson was very persuasive, advertising his new friend's cleverness and skills before everyone. Doubtlessly, he planned to use Miguel's potion making skills to his ultimate advantage. Being friendly to someone did not preclude Swenson's merchant inclinations. By the time Swenson, Steve, and Miguel reached Swenson's favorite place where a table had already been reserved for Swenson and his company, Steve heard the story of how his friend met the young potion maker several times already.
Four days ago, Swenson was travelling through the woods near Esrom, a larger city frequented by heroes. Several of them opted to keep him company, riding along with him west until their paths would part. He couldn't exactly say no to them. Along the way, another party of heroes attacked the three with him and a battle ensued. At one point, the very valiant young woman in very short skirt, who called herself as Valery to Swenson earlier, borrowed one of the wheels of his wagon to use it as a shield against the arrows flying toward the terrified merchant, who spent the entirety of that battle hiding under his wagon.
The three heroes won and of course Swenson generously rewarded them for protecting him, after which they happily parted ways to Swenson's great relief. Afterward, he managed to put the damaged wheel back on and resumed on his way. Only close to the night, the wheel came off again, leaving the grumbling merchant's wagon in a ditch. It had been already late night and mobs began to appear, frightening Swenson to no end. And then this traveler showed up and kindly helped him get back on the road, using a clever system of planks and rope pulleys that he sat up against the trees.
All this, Steve heard once more already after a few swallows of the bitter tasting liquid only somewhat sweetened by honey, which Swenson kept encouraging him to drink for the sake of their reunion. It was not every day that he came back to town, where he once helped Steve settle. And it was the time of the grand Spring festival, after all!
A time for merriment and the giving of gifts! Tables had been set up right on the town streets, where folks cheerfully greeted each other, congratulating and remembering events, generously sharing food and beverages amid tunes played by Cesar the Smith's hobby music band. Folks of different professions showed off their skills in games, cheered on by onlookers, and practiced art. Many came to Steve bearing small gifts, lightly denying his words of apology since he didn't prepare nearly so many in return.
Gifts!
Back in the present, Steve's eyes suddenly opened wide and drew to the table behind him, where the nameless brown covered package still sat, unopened. It was Herobrine's present. He hoped to give it to him if Herobrine showed up again, if he managed to gain the courage to offer it to him. It was just a book that Steve recently found in Grayn's possession, with an old story about Notch and Herobrine, where they were not as great enemies as most other stories claimed. Steve tentatively hoped that this might allow him to ask Herobrine questions about what was true of ancient myths and what wasn't.
Steve planned to go to town, stay for a few festivities, give out his gifts to several of town residents always friendly to him like Grayn the vendor and Greg the gate guard, and of course the families of his young friends that continued to visit him. Then, he planned to go home.
Instead, he saw his friend Swenson's wagon, parked in the colorful town square where already many visiting merchants had set up their stalls for the great celebration. And, of course, Steve could not resist his old friend's exhortations to stay and celebrate with him longer. The lack of Herobrine's presence, which Steve waited for but didn't perceive, led to him succumbing to Swenson's offers of ale so Steve would relax for once.
Well, he certainly did, didn't he. Steve's heart fell a little at the dim memory of his own actions, betraying Herobrine's presence to everyone in town, and then Herobrine's angry farewell.
"Steve? Are you all right?" The potion maker's voice held genuine concern this time and Steve tried to smile at him.
"Yeah… I'm fine… Just…" He didn't attempt to explain, only rubbed his head again before frowning. "I'm not drinking that stuff again. Ever." He said sternly. His lack of control and giving in to his friend's pushing was the cause of this entire unfortunate event. He still didn't know what to do with all this quite, yet.
"Well, I mean it's not that bad." His visitor's voice held a small smile and his brown eyes held understanding compassion. "So long as its only a little, it should not do harm. Some people even say that its good for their health. Most certainly seem to enjoy it. I think it's a problem only if you lose control. Which is usually a problem in almost anything else one does. Lose control and the risk of it to leading to some sort of issue becomes much higher." The young mage gave an easy grin, his tone dismissive. Steve continued frowned.
"No. Never again." He said with a stubborn shake of his head, while the other only shrugged with a mild look, accepting Steve's firm decision. Steve meanwhile recalled his own behavior last night and barely stifled a cringe as more and more filtered back to him from hazy memories.
He had… not just told everyone about Herobrine.
Now he could remember himself raving about some great Adventure that he had in his past. As happened before on occasion, his mind had made up another story that felt so real that it almost seemed true. Only it couldn't be. Steve remembered himself standing on the table as he recounted fighting monsters, brandishing his sword in the air as his friend listened to him with proud surprise, his green eyes twinkling with laughter. The reaction of his listeners, gathering at the table and catching his words with fascinated eyes, only encouraged Steve to make a fool of himself.
Maybe that's why Herobrine reacted as he did? He already seemed to know that Steve told everyone about him. Steve skewed an uncertain look toward the visitor, recalling that he heard him, too. Within, embarrassment grew. He badly wanted to verify just what it was that he told everyone but didn't dare to remind of it.
Maybe he could just pretend that he was drunk? What story did he tell everyone, anyway? Steve dimly recalled seeing flashes of his fight with the Enderdragon, slaughtering scores of Herobrine's endermen so he could get to him and cast him down into the Nether. Surely, everyone knew that Steve would never do that for real?
"Ugh…" Steve groaned at the image of himself, standing upon the table, striking a heroic pose as he brandished his sword. How could he show himself in town after that? Steve's cheeks reddened as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.
"It's all right, Steve. No harm done."
"Really? I don't remember you drinking anything." Steve pointed out. He could now dimly remember this young man also sitting nearby with a piled-on plate, which Swenson insisted for their new acquaintance to try. Steve remembered him hiding a rueful smile as he looked at Steve ranting about his great adventure and shaking his head as he dug into his food. Unlike Steve, he ignored the cup that Swenson slid to him.
"Well, it wouldn't be safe for someone like me. Even though my powers are minor, I am a mage after all." The young man crookedly grinned and Steve nodded in understanding.
The hang-over potion maker's brown eyes held on tired Steve a moment longer with slightly mischievous look, then turned to fondly consider Steve's humble abode.
"I envy you, Steve." He admitted with slight longing, his gaze held on the green branches of trees blotching the blue sky showing in the cabin's open window. Fresh air laden with scents of pine and fresh grass pulled in from the outside.
"Oh? Why?"
"Well… This seems like a really nice place. I wish that I could stay here."
"Why cannot you?" Steve asked curiously. The potion maker lightly shrugged.
"Commitments… Although maybe I will stay? At least for a little while…" He said thoughtfully. "I've already explored around the area quite a bit this morning and there are useful ingredients for my potions. This town is quite festive and the people seem nice, too. And you have some very interesting magical artifacts here. Do you know that there are ancient mineshafts all below this place?"
Steve nodded at that. Oh, yes. He certainly knew about those.
Not long after he came to town, he had come across such structures in the caves and even explored some, but he didn't dare go too deeply because of the dangerous mobs that spawned in the dark places of the world. Even with Herobrine's promise, which sounded more like a threat to him at first to keep Steve from running off, Steve eventually understood that he would remain safe from the mobs as long as he stayed in this location and close to Herobrine's mansion, even in his twin's absence.
He had even gone below on several occasions. That one time, though… Dread began to rise as images of many red eyes opened to stare at Steve hungrily from the darkness. The menacing sound of many legs touching stone as the invisible horde of monsters approached made him freeze, before he had fled that place as fast as his legs could carry him. And, he had stumbled and fell into a chasm, only to be caught once again by a very disgruntled Herobrine's hand.
"You stupid mortal! Are you a madman with a wish to die? It seems that you just search to find new ways to endanger yourself! What possessed you to run in this treacherous terrain? If you cannot hold on to your wits at the sight of a few creepy crawlies, then don't come here!"
Herobrine glared at Steve in his memory while Steve still tried to catch his breath. After a moment, the still angry immortal gave Steve a calculating look. "Hmm… Or should I teach you a lesson? I could let them have you. Would you like to learn what it feels like to become a cave spider's snack?"
Herobrine grinned at Steve's hasty head shake. Steve still could not say a word, his eyes desperate and wide as he kept hearing the spiders and saw their vague forms moving about in the dark away from light of Herobrine's coldly narrowed eyes.
"No? Very well. But do something so dumb again and I assure you, you will find out all about their eating process. Their poison is a nasty thing, mortal. First, it paralyzes you and then it slowly dissolves you from within, turning your flesh to liquid, which the adults will imbibe and share with their hatching young. Some might even lay eggs within your flesh, so their young will hatch inside you. They then will eat their way from within to emerge into the world. I will make sure you survive this experience, but you will not like it. Do not come here again, is that understood?"
The tone of Herobrine's voice sounded irate, but Steve could clearly perceive the enjoyment his twin felt along with strong annoyance. He truly considered carrying out such a horrific punishment if Steve disobeyed him again. This had happened three months after Steve's unfortunate venture to Herobrine's mansion, so Steve shook in terror at the threat, unable to even speak and only nodding his head.
Ever after, Steve avoided coming even closer to those deeper mineshafts. He already feared spiders, even of ordinary, smaller variety that could be found living in one's room or on forest paths. For a long time after this harrowing experiences, red eyes and scurrying feet, and mute cocoons which jerked this way and that before baby spiders burst their way through, had taken a secure hold in Steve's recurring nightmares.
His face slightly paling at the chilling memory, Steve unwillingly jerked and tried to form a nervous smile.
"Yes. Those places are… full of spiders, though. Really big ones. I… don't like them. I would not go there if I was you…" Steve admitted. "But there are other places here that also have old power and magic. Even the town itself. The walls? There are many blocks of stone with runes on them. It keeps most of the buildings looking new. And lanterns still work. There is a big tower right in the town square, with a clock, and it still works, too. Everyone says that it's always been here and that it's as old as town itself. And there are runes on it, too. So, if that's what you are looking for, then you don't have to go into the mines to look." Steve offered, recalling the distinct blocks of stone scattered throughout the city, at night glowing with brown and blue-white hues. Appearing already aware of it, the young mage nodded again.
"There are golems, too. Though they don't appear unless the town faces danger. Last time it happened was um… Ten years ago? Nine?" Steve said uncertainly, trying to remember. He was almost glad to be distracted by this conversation now.
"That's when that local monster woke up. I already know of that. Swenson told me all about that on the way to this place." The young man smiled, amused. Steve's smile faltered as once again the feeling of something very familiar, yet which he couldn't quite put his finger on, suddenly came strong within him.
"You also told of that to us. At the celebration." Miguel grinned, casting Steve a slightly mischievous look. "You also said that you met real Herobrine, who now comes and haunts you, both in your nightmares and awake. You said that he sets your house on fire and sends mobs after you. You got quite angry and then you, Swenson, and the rest of your company got ready to go to his mansion and set it on fire, instead, in revenge."
"Ugh…" Steve winced, paling a little.
"Don't worry. Your other friend, Greg, tried to talk them all out of it. And when they didn't listen, he went to get your town guards. Then everyone gave up on that. Only you woke up and started telling everyone how you were not scared because you were really a hero, who already defeated that monster many times, and that you would do so again, sending him and his minions back to the Nether where they belong."
Steve's eyes widened at that in surprise, which quickly turned to an abashed smile. He… didn't remember anything of that last part? Not all of it, anyway.
"Yeah… I might have… Gone a bit overboard with that." He chuckled with slight unease, avoiding meeting the mage's eyes and thus not seeing the harsh, watchful look that briefly held there.
"I… like to read old books, you see? Any that I can find. And there is a mansion here, where I had gone twice already. Once by mistake and the other… Because of a tale some kids told me. They thought that they had seen real Herobrine and asked me to check. It wasn't though! It was just their ghost! The town guards have already gone and checked that as well. And their ghost is not dangerous, unless someone provokes him. All the locals know about this and some have even seen him. That's why they have a mural drawn of him on one wall. There is even a dare here, though it's not… encouraged. But many of the locals have done it. It's a sort of challenge, to see how close they can get to the monster before he wakes up."
"I know that already, too." For some reason the young man's tone came wry. Steve chuckled, more lightly this time.
"I wouldn't do that either, though." Steve hurried to warn. He didn't want to think of what might happen if because of his rash drunken words, this mage might go to the mansion and ran into real Herobrine when he might be in a bad mood. On several occasions his twin complained that if he was going to catch yet another local snooping about his place, he was going to teach them all a good lesson that their entire town would not soon forget. He had such a dark smirk on his face that Steve feared to imagine what Herobrine planned. He was sure that Herobrine's idea of fun might prove horrifying to everyone else living here.
"Most of the time he just stays there, asleep. It's been like that for many years. But he can wake up, if someone comes too close or attacks him. The old timers said that this happened before. Then, a whole lot of monsters appear, and they attack the town. Then, they have to call for heroes to come and defeat the ghost. But as soon as the heroes leave, the ghost reappears and simply returns to sleep. It's always been that way around here."
Seeing the mage's thoughtful look, Steve hurried to reassure with a disarming smile.
"So, this ghost here is not the real Herobrine, of course! He is just one of the shards, left after the gods destroyed the real Monster. Real Herobrine does not exist. Not anymore!"
Steve worriedly considered the absent-minded look that held in the mage's face as he nodded to Steve's words, appearing to think on something.
"He might not be dangerous, but… I wouldn't… I wouldn't go there if I was you. If that's what you are thinking. The second time I went, I came too close to him. I was curious and… a whole lot of monsters spawned and chased after me and I barely made it out of there alive. I almost woke him up! That's what they told me in town. And they will not like it if you go there to bother him."
The mage slightly nodded again. Steve scratched the back of his head, anxious to undo whatever damage he did. "So, there is no real Herobrine. At least here. Everything I said at the celebration was… make believe. I have a strong imagination. I also don't usually drink ale. So, it really hit me."
"Makes sense. For some people it's just not a good idea… There is just no amount that's safe for them. Give them just a little, and they lose all bounds, losing themselves in their bad habit. You just have to look at your old Hubert for that." The mage gave Steve a still friendly, but cautious look.
Steve immediately nodded in heartfelt agreement, recalling the town drunkard who often imbibed too much of the poorly prepared ale that he made himself, since the mayor forbade anyone from selling it to him. Everyone tolerated the old man, since at his worst he merely broke into loud songs that he would yell in obnoxious tune until the guards came and dragged him to the local jail to chill for a few hours. Steve remembered one time, though, that this guy gave him quite a scare.
"Cannot you see? Blind fools! That's Herobrine himself! He is in disguise and up to no good! Banish him before he destroys our town! You, look! Look! See? Its Him! Him!"
Steve could still feel the chills running through him as the formerly harmless old ragged looking man suddenly began to rave and spit, pointing his finger at Steve and then to the large mural, where Steve's lookalike stood in threatening manner, the mansion looming behind him in the distance. The painting was a famous local attraction, right on the wall of the library. At the old man's yells, many townsfolk began to turn and look, comparing Steve's appearance to that of their legend. And Steve already knew that he looked strangely alike to the mysterious ghost. That's why he asked Swenson to take him to the famous mural. He wanted to verify what he saw in that first mansion visit.
The old drunkard woke up just as curious Steve drew close, hungrily eyeing the image of his twin and noting that they did look almost exactly alike, even down to the cyan jeans and teal shirts. Only their ages differed. His twin looked older and sported a fully-fledged, trimmed beard while Steve still barely grew any facial hair at all and so preferred a clean shave. Still, standing there next to the white-eyed mural, he felt extremely odd, especially when the few present town's folk began to whisper as they kept glancing between him and Herobrine on the wall.
Good thing no one took the old man seriously. Swenson, who was showing Steve around town just then, immediately stepped to the rescue. Only a few jokes made to the town folk at the old man's expense, and old drunkard's attention switched entirely to him, forgetting Steve. He then walked away grumbling and spitting, and the few people resumed going on their way. Swenson quickly drew Steve away and Steve avoided going to that place ever since. He avoided the old drunkard, too.
He probably didn't have to? At the celebration, he ran straight into the old man again and the man didn't seem to remember him. Maybe it was because Steve made sure to wear different clothes. This time, Hubert only begged for a spare coin, which Steve hastily gave him. The town drunk greedily grabbed the copper coin and smiled at Steve with rotten and missing teeth, not seeming to recall his earlier suspicions. Steve still tried to avoid him whenever he saw him, changing his path to another street or even jumping back to the corner and waiting until the old man passed, even though it earned him a chuckle from Swenson and a curious look from Miguel to whom Swenson then told the story.
"Well, I need to get going and get a few chores done." Steve said reluctantly. The young mage only gave him a bright grin.
"You go ahead, then. I need to work on a few potions. And then we must go see your friend before he shows up here himself, wagon and all."
"Right." Steve nodded. Briefly, he glanced at his rather soiled clothes. They still smelled of ale that he spilled on his shirt. Steve winced at the sniff. Giving the young mage another uncomfortable look, since he was not quite sure how he felt about having a guest that he didn't exactly remember inviting, Steve headed to a chest and pulled out fresh clothes. He then headed outside to wash up.
The young mage continued to work, setting up his potions. Hearing Steve moving to get his chores done, he grinned slightly, keeping his brown eyes held on his work.