Shattered Sanity

As the months gradually turned into more than a year, the nature of Riven’s education quietly underwent yet another transformation.

While the Hypnotist had previously concerned himself with teaching Riven how to think, speak, and conduct himself like a noble, he eventually reached the conclusion that knowledge alone would never truly complete the transformation he sought to achieve.

Because, beneath all the noble mannerisms, education and knowledge, there still remained the frightened slave who had once survived through obedience, fear, and suffering.

And as long as that boy continued to exist within him, there would always remain the possibility that he would resurface one day, and overshadow the noble Riven.

And that was a possibility that remained unacceptable to the Hypnotist, who wanted nothing less than a complete erasure of his past.

So, slowly but surely, he began to manipulate Riven’s mind on how to bury the past deeply.

”Tell me about Ashfang Village,” the Hypnotist requested one afternoon, as he quietly sat beside Riven’s bed after first ensuring that every pain-relieving medicine had been removed from his treatment for the day.

Riven hesitated before slowly complying with the request, recounting the hunger, the beatings, Hagrid, and the death of his mother.

Every sentence coincided with the relentless agony of Blood Refinement, as without the aid of painkillers, every nerve within his body screamed while those painful memories resurfaced one after another.

The Hypnotist patiently listened until Riven had finished speaking.

Then, without uttering a single comforting word, he simply rose from his chair and quietly walked away.

The gentle hand that normally rested upon Riven’s head never appeared.

The warm smile that usually greeted him every morning never came.

No praise followed.

No reassurance arrived.

For the remainder of that day, the Hypnotist barely spoke to him at all.

By the following morning, Riven found himself repeatedly wondering whether he had somehow disappointed the only man who had ever treated him with genuine kindness since entering the laboratory.

However, he never got any answer for the Hypnotist’s strange behaviour.

Several days later, another lesson began.

”You have received an invitation to dine alongside the bannermen of House Dawnriver,” the Hypnotist explained, as this time the Imperial Anatomist had permitted the strongest pain-relieving medicines to flow through Riven’s body before the lesson commenced. ”Tell me how you conduct yourself.”

Riven immediately described the proper greeting, his posture, table etiquette, appropriate conversation, and the hierarchy he needed to observe throughout the banquet.

A warm smile slowly spread across the Hypnotist’s face.

”Excellent,” the Hypnotist praised, as he gently stroked Riven’s hair with the same affection a loving father might show his own son.

”That is exactly how a noble should conduct himself.”

He said, as this time the warmth in his voice returned, causing Riven to unconsciously relax beneath that affection, as he never realized that his mind had already begun associating one identity with comfort and acceptance, while quietly linking the other with loneliness and suffering.

However, that was but the start.

Throughout the following months, the same pattern quietly repeated itself hundreds of times, as discussions surrounding Ashfang Village, slavery, Hagrid, or his former life almost always took place when his pain medication had been reduced to the absolute minimum that the Imperial Anatomist considered safe.

Meanwhile, lessons concerning noble customs, etiquette, politics, history, and the identity awaiting him beyond the laboratory almost always coincided with the periods where the strongest painkillers dulled his agony to the greatest extent possible.

As little by little, his subconscious mind began distinguishing between those two worlds without Riven ever consciously recognizing that it was happening, until eventually, his mind itself started to dread recalling the past.

However, the Hypnotist’s conditioning did not stop there.

”You see a slave being mistreated by its owner in your territory,” the Hypnotist said one evening, as he carefully observed Riven’s expression.

”How do you respond?”

He asked, as after thinking for a while, Riven responded by saying–

”If the slave owner is anything like Hagrid then....”

He began, however, before he could even finish his words, the Hypnotist slammed his journal shut and stood up.

”We shall continue this lesson another day.”

He said, as for just a brief moment, disappointment crossed the Hypnotist’s face.

It lasted only an instant.

Yet to Riven, that fleeting expression felt heavier than any punishment he had ever received, as the Hypnotist walked out and never returned for the rest of the day.

The following morning, Riven instinctively searched the room for him the moment he opened his eyes.

However, the Hypnotist arrived only after several hours had already passed.

His expression remained polite.

His tone remained courteous.

However, the gentle smile Riven had unknowingly begun craving was nowhere to be seen.

For the entire day, every lesson felt distant.

Every answer received nothing more than a simple nod.

The affectionate hand that normally rested upon his hair never touched him once.

Although the Hypnotist never raised his voice, never scolded him, and never expressed anger in any obvious way, the absence of his warmth left Riven feeling strangely unsettled, as he spent the entire day wondering what he had done wrong.

Only after another lesson the following evening did the older man’s familiar kindness finally return.

”A new slave has just been purchased by your housekeeper, how do you greet him or her?”

The Hypnotist asked, as he patiently watched Riven think.

The premise of the question was the same as last time, however, unlike last time, Riven never reached towards Ashfang Village in his reply.

Instead, he answered exactly as a noble should, as he isolated his past identity from his new one, causing a big smile to immediately appear upon the Hypnotist’s face.

”Very good,” the Hypnotist praised, as he gently brushed several loose strands of hair away from Riven’s forehead. ”I knew you would remember.”

He praised, as the simple gesture filled Riven with a sense of relief that he himself could not properly explain.

—--

As time passed, similar moments quietly accumulated over the following months, until Riven gradually stopped reaching towards his former life altogether.

Whenever memories from Ashfang Village instinctively surfaced while answering a question, an indescribable feeling of anxiety immediately followed, as though merely thinking like the frightened slave he once had been, risked disappointing the one person whose approval had slowly become more precious than anything else.

Which was when the Hypnotist changed the agenda from correction to propaganda planting.

”You were never born to become a slave,” the Hypnotist explained, as he looked directly into Riven’s eyes. ”That Chapter of your life was nothing more than an unfortunate interruption of your true destiny.”

He said, as he talked about his divine lineage, his destiny, his superiority to mere mortals, and how, the suffering only made him stronger.

”You are meant to be the best that humanity can produce.

You are meant to be a representation of Surthur on land.”

He said, as each conversation quietly nudged Riven’s subconscious a little further away from the frightened child who had entered the laboratory and a little closer towards the heir the Hypnotist wished him to become.

His memories themselves never disappeared.

His perfect memory ensured that such a thing remained impossible.

However, his willingness to reach towards those memories steadily diminished with every passing month, until recalling them no longer felt natural.

Instead, his subconscious mind quietly learned to push that identity further and further away, while every thought associated with nobility, confidence, and his divine lineage gradually became the answers that instinctively rose to the surface first.

By the time nearly a year and a half had passed since Riven first entered the laboratory, the Hypnotist finally became satisfied that the foundations had been laid.

As only then did he conclude that Riven’s mind had become stable enough to withstand the final stage of his psychological transformation.....

Which was the true rewrite of his identity.