My dreams continue, and my god, these people are awful. The D'Ysquith family, in my dreams. I mean, absolutely the worst sorts of people one could imagine. Oh not murderers or cannibals or anything like that, but really just dreadful.
For instance, I went to take a tour of the family's historical home (and had to pay about a dollar fifty for the privilege, I might add) and was harangued by the current earl, Lord Adalbert. He fussed at me for touching the armor, and went on a tirade about how the poor are an absolute curse on the land. Imagine!
In fact, it seemed as though the ancient portraits themselves were scolding me for having dared defile their home. "Monty Navarro!" they seemed to say, "You don't belong here! Abandon all hope of ever being a D'Ysquith. Your girlfriend will never marry you."
(Though admittedly, that may have been me projecting my own insecurities.)
I tried to talk some sense into a family member I was certain would show me sympathy: an older priest, Lord Reverend Ezekial D'Ysquith. But even he turned a cold shoulder to my plight. Though he did give me a nice tour of the bell tower.