"So what would happen if I killed 'er?" you say. "Would the entire realm suddenly go mad? Would it rain showers o' gold? Would it solve the issue o' the talkin' head in my sleeve?"
Yurie simply stares at you for a while. Producing the aforementioned head, which picks up its earlier string of invective without a hitch, does little to kick-start a response. Finally, as Annalise starts busing out words that have you scrambling for the old English dictionary you have stashed somewhere, the scholar speaks.
"There is a lot to unpack here, so let's start with the pressing issue of why you have a severed and extremely angry head in your sleeves."
"I am Annalise, Queen of Cainhurst," she practically screams. "Take Us away from this lunatic before he puts Us back into that nightmare."
Yurie hesitantly extends her hands. With a shrug, you carefully pass over your burden.
"She's a wee bit heftier than she looks, so be careful," you say. Even with your warning, Yurie nearly buckles, ultimately electing to just put her down on the floor.
"The LORD judged 'er and found 'er wantin'," you say when Yurie finishes standing Annalise up on her neck stump. "She won't die properly, so I figured I'd take 'er with me and figure it out later."
"You threw a piece of metal at Us. When it burned Us, you decided to kill Us. In what world does that make sense?" she huffs.
"Instead o' complainin', maybe ye should've tried not bein' a blasphemous vampire heathen."
"You haven't even explained what 'vampire' means you overgrown offal trough."
Can you please stop arguing? says Ebrietas, eyes locked on the ironclad monarch. I'm sure Father Anderson had a good reason to do what he did.
"Look," Yurie interjects, "we can deal with this later. Queen Annalise, I am going to ask you some questions after the current situation is dealt with. I assure you that I will not let Anderson put you in his sleeves again. Is there anything I can do for you while you wait?"
"Just take Us away from him," she sighs. "That is all We ask."
Yurie obligingly carries her away, huffing and grunting with the effort. After putting her down on a table, which groans in protest, she walks back to you and sits down.
"Putting that very temporarily aside, let's return to the topic of Rom. When you first asked, I told you that killing her would result in madness."
"What sort o' madness? 'Excitable Boy' madness or 'Our House' madness?"
"Let me start from the beginning," she says without missing a beat. "Yharnam is, to various degrees, influenced by various dreamscapes, such as the Hunter's Dream. The dreamscape Rom guards is simultaneously the most alien and most influential; it operates under laws that are more perpendicular than parallel to our own. I have reason to believe it is the source of several of Yharnam's odder properties, including bloodtinge magic and, perhaps, the Scourge itself. Rom serves as a mostly-effective limiter, stopping the majority of its bleedthrough while simultaneously limiting all traffic the other way."
Her gaze bulls its way through her blindfold. "Leave Rom alive and the status quo remains. Kill Rom and you have a chance to make a better one, assuming you can keep everyone alive in the process."
You lean your head into your hand. "How exactly am I supposed ta kill an entire plane of existence?"
"And what are the consequences, aside from the Scourge, if we leave Rom be for the time being?" Simon chimes in.
"Good questions. For the former, Ebrietas and I made some solid progress; based on my research of Rom, descriptions of the Hunters' Dream, and Ebrietas' examination of the lantern you all found on your way here, we theorize that dreamscapes require a dreamer to serve as a host. Eliminate the dreamer and the dream fades."
I think the body we found in Yahar'gul was a host, says Ebrietas.
"He was deader than Queenie's chances o' winnin' a thumb war. How's he still dreaming?"
"That's the interesting part," Yurie replies. There's a tinge of excitement in her voice, reminding you of when you sat down to hear about the orphans' latest adventures. "In all likelihood, each dreamscape is tied to its dreamer's consciousness instead of their physical body. Assuming that's the case, then, based on your descriptions of Gehrman and the aforementioned dead man, said consciousness likely resides within the dream itself. The hosts maintain not only each dream's existence but their own."
You nod. "So I go inta the fuckin' Hell dimension, kill the person dreamin' it up, and then everythin's hunky-dory?"
"In so many words, yes. Now, Simon, your question is every bit as important. Anderson, how long ago did Old Yharnam burn?"
You shrug. "Not sure. Even the Kegs don't know the specifics."
"But it was long enough for the Church to erect an entirely new city on top of the ruins."
"Well, I assume they had the Giants helpin' 'em," you offer.
"The Powder Kegs are still alive. The beasts within are still alive without any food source besides each other." She leans forward. "Do you know how long you've been here? In this world?"
"A few hours, I'd say."
"Ebrietas can keep perfect time in her head. It should be morning, Anderson. It should have been morning hours ago. Time isn't functioning properly."
She rises and walks towards the door. "Do you know why all this talk of dreams is important?"
She opens the door and the moon shines through, terrible and grand. "We're in one."
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