《100 Ways to Make Money in a Fantasy World》


 1a. Low Level Quests are for Suckers

    A stiff, blue point ran across the high grass and the top-balded midget chased after.


    The blue slime turned around and looked up to the air where the shadow cast itself around him. Its mouth opened, its drooping tongue wound itself back into a roll. It jumped. The man jumped on it. Everyone jumped.


    Pop.


    The midget looked up, blue-faced. He blinked, eyes went wide. All around him across the tall grass, the tips of blades were blue and dripping and on his body the slime came down in giant goblets. His hands went wide and he shook each one, giant threads of blue fell off his leather coat and cape. It all fell on the black soil beneath or on the pokadotted tops of mushrooms half-removed at the stem.


    ¡°You got some on you, Harrogate.¡± Cecil said. A woman, tall. The grass went to her shins halfway. Grass that went halfway up to his waist. White complexed with an unruly braid of red hair, loose and frizzed.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you working again?¡± Harrogate asked. He wiped his face.


    ¡°I¡¯m too slow. You¡¯ve got those quick, short legs.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the bag?¡± He asked. ¡°We¡¯ve got half a days worth of slimes in there, I don¡¯t want it stolen.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s out there.¡± She pointed out there (which wasn¡¯t much of a direction for him, either). Somewhere, on a tree line southward? Northward?


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go fetch it.¡± He said.


    ¡°It¡¯s heavy.¡± She said.


    ¡°If you didn¡¯t fuck things up, you wouldn¡¯t have to lift bags for a living.¡± He said. ¡°¡¯Sides, I¡¯m doing all the hard work.¡±


    ¡°What? Getting blue shit all over you?¡±


    ¡°Getting us some money is what.¡± I said.


    ¡°Harrogate. I¡¯ve been thinking.¡± Her hands when to her chin, her head tilted upwards. He looked, eyes lazy and heavy bagged with the slime dripping off the side of his chin. Interred in his beard. Down his back. Up his ass. A shiver came down Harrogate, he wiggled in place.


    ¡°The last time you thought we ended up with a million dollar debt.¡± He said. ¡°I think you¡¯ve thought enough for one life.¡±


    ¡°Harrogate. Don¡¯t be an ass.¡± She said. ¡°This helps you too, alright, listen.¡±


    He turned and walked away. She took big steps after him, he kept his head on the floor looking for bobbing and squishing and jumpy little blue balls that slipped through the tall grass. With his arms at a wide wing span, turning and clapping on these small critters.


    ¡°You listening, Harrogate?¡± She asked.Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°I wish I wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why are we still doing this?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s easy money.¡± Harrogate grabbed a rag from one of the belts hanging on his chest, wiping his face clean of the blue and seeing the smidgen of his eye holes and lips puckered against the cloth like a Rorschach of a bad kiss at a tavern.


    ¡°Harrogate, is this what you want to do for the rest of your life? Hunting slimes?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even start Cecil.¡± He said.


    ¡°Well wait.¡± She said. ¡°Couldn¡¯t we have more? Couldn¡¯t we do more? Aren¡¯t you interested in glory, fame, prestige?¡±


    ¡°Fame doesn¡¯t pay a debt.¡± He turned. Arms going up and down. ¡°A million. Dollar. Debt.¡±


    ¡°But fame gets us money, Harry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me Harry.¡±


    ¡°And how do we get fame, Harry?¡± She said. ¡°By doing things worth making us famous.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have answered that any better. Be specific. What do you want to do?¡±


    ¡°Dungeon hopping. It¡¯s like tavern hopping.¡±


    ¡°Except we wouldn¡¯t be drunk and would probably die.¡± He said.


    ¡°Both those things can change!¡± She stepped up in front of him. The forest blocked by her body, the heavy cloak of a wolf mantle around her shoulders and down all the way to her waist. She wasn¡¯t sweating. Why did she never sweat under such a heavy, warm coat? ¡°Let¡¯s go dungeon hopping.¡±


    ¡°No, Cecil. No¡± He threw his arms up and down again. ¡°Again. We can¡¯t go dungeon hopping or take names or spent money to get drunk. Do you want to know why, Cecil?¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that, Harrogate?¡±


    ¡°¡¯Cause we can¡¯t afford it, Cecil. Because we owe one million Gold.¡± He said. ¡°And I want to pay it and still be alive to enjoy having paid it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just one million gold.¡± She said. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad. Think about the life afterwards, Harry. Think about your career. Really.¡±


    His eyes dimmed, his face scrunched up.


    ¡°Do you know how much a million is?¡± He asked.


    ¡°A one an three zeroes!¡± Her face lit up. The sun almost beaming off the gleam in her skin, the slimes bobbing up on top of thin-pedaled yellow flowers and bending the stems of dandelions. The small white artillery flew across the horizon, past her, some of it stuck in her hair.


    ¡°A one and six zeroes, Cecil. Six zeroes. Can you count to six?¡±


    She closed her eyes and jerked her head, smiling then started on her left hand. One finger, two finger, three.


    ¡°Gods damn, I didn¡¯t ask you to actually do it.¡± He said. ¡°Cecil. I know you may not like the job-¡±


    ¡°I hate it.¡± She said. Further beyond them the even horizon rolled across with a stale breeze, where behind them scar-less slack mouthed young adventurers ran across with wooden swords bopping blue slimes. Sometimes red ones. Sometimes themselves.


    ¡°I know you hate it, and that¡¯s why it¡¯s perfect. Because there isn¡¯t any way you could mess the job up.¡± He said ¡°This is what I like Cecil, easy jobs that pay it in the end.¡±


    ¡°This is why you don¡¯t have a girlfriend.¡± She said. ¡°You¡¯re boring.¡±


    ¡°This is why we owe a million dollars. You¡¯re dumb.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dumb.¡±


    Harrogate turned his head out of the way of Cecil, beyond her and towards an oak. His eyes, thin and tired. He pinched his nose bridge.


    ¡°Cecil, look at our bag.¡± He pointed. ¡°Just look.¡±


    She turned, the gleam fading, her face shadowed and stiff and nervous. Her eyes went wide and she ran for the for the bag, tripping, kicking up grass. The adventurers turned mid swing or mid scream or mid chase, looking at the giant tripping and falling and running for the tree line. Harrogate slapped his forehead and peaked through the gaps in between his fingers. Three birds pecked at their bag, white yellow beaks slurping and nibbling away at blue candy-colored corpses. Slurp, slurp.


    ¡°Stop. Stop.¡± She raised her long sword with her right hand, flailing it like a beating cane. ¡°Stop!¡±


    They picked up the brown linen bag and with one pull on opposite direction by all three of ¡®em, ripped it straight through. It all fell on her, one big drench of it. Slime-blood, like she was a walking blueberry. She turned to Harrogate, eyes peaked through a caked face.


    Harrogate tipped his head to the side.


    ¡°Nice one.¡±

 1b. Cults really do pay best

    Cecil kicked the wooden doors open and the sign post above the guild house swerved. Le Hunter¡¯s Embrace in big bold black writing, shaking. Harrogate too, shaking as he followed with small and quiet steps. His hands on his face, stretching out his skin taut and Cecile close behind, shrugging.


    ¡°I thought it¡¯d more than two gold.¡± She said.


    He counted the coins in his hand, poking each one and rolling it across sweaty palms. His face had no color. His eyes went small, his head looked down.


    ¡°You alright, Harrogate?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Cecil.¡± He turned his head with a slowness that you could almost hear the rusted old forty year old bones of him creak.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± She picked her ear.


    ¡°We¡¯re due today for a payment. Do you know how much we have to pay today?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Two hundred gold.¡± He said. ¡°We¡¯re short by a lot.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why I¡¯m saying-¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Hear me out.¡± Then she smiled. Her shoulders rounded, her body leaned forward towards his. He could see every detail of him, every blemish on his shiny scalp and every sweat drop that came down him that made his skin sleek and wet. She put her hand on his shoulder and retracted, looking down at it. Slippery. Wet. She wiped Harrogate¡¯s nervous-smelly-sweat down on her coat. ¡°Harrogate, I have an idea if you¡¯d just let me get it out. Ya see, I checked the bounty in there. Ya see.¡±


    ¡°No. Please, no. Let¡¯s just go out tomorrow early in the morning. We can still make it if we start early.¡± He started running numbers in the air with his fingers. Carrying the what onto the who, shaking and jumping in the air.


    She stood straight and looked out across the street, the long line of bright colored pedestrians forming a moving rainbow against the tawny colored streets. People, busy with trade, walking around with baskets of slime-confection and slime-drinks and slime foods and slime clothes? Plushies. Lubricant¡­? All in vases or in baskets, on the behind of carriages worked by gray donkeys. Behind them, somewhere beyond the cross hatch of baskets and the snipped-ears of false equestrians were three people. Particular people, with white cloaks, who looked plain and stupid, honest. With cut ropes around their arms and legs, so that every time they moved (and they moved, alright) they¡¯d whip the floor with a loud bang.


    Cecile smiled.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Be right back.¡± She said. Walking forward to these white cloaked figures with fliers in their hands and their eerie sets of rictus faces as they turned mechanically to each person.


    She stepped up onto one of them.


    ¡°Have you come to join the Children of Jenba?¡± One of them, a girl with a blond ponytail said. She leaned into Cecile, her breath smelling of wine and herb.


    ¡°Give me that.¡± Cecile snatched her paper, ran across, bumping not once but twice.


    Harrogate was sat underneath a little canopy, his faces on his chin amongst a group of other poor-people. Him and some lanky looking dirt-faced fellow looked at each other, the dirt-faced fella who after nodding, started handing Harrogate a bottle. Cecile grabbed it, drew it back. She drank and chucked it behind her.


    ¡°It¡¯s not time to celebrate yet.¡± She said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not celebrating.¡± His back slouched.


    ¡°Get this. Alright, this was in the guild and what I was trying to get at.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not joining their cult, Cecile. I can¡¯t believe you¡¯d stoop so low-¡± He grabbed another bottle from the drunkard to his rear. Cecile grabbed that one too. Drank. Chucked.


    ¡°Get this, alright. These people are looking for artifacts of the great Yenba.¡±


    ¡°Jenba.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, whatever.¡± She said. ¡°They want stuff belonging to this Jenba guy and they¡¯re willing to pay some coin.¡±


    ¡°Alright? And?¡±


    ¡°And it says here,¡± She reared her face closer and squinted. ¡°It says there¡¯s a place called Hawkin¡¯s Catacombs nearby. And there might be some of this treasure underneath.¡±


    ¡°What kind? Why is this place important?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? Who cares? Maybe this Jenba guy died there. Maybe he ate dinner there once. Maybe he lost his virginity there, alright? It doesn¡¯t matter what we find.¡± She said. ¡°Clothes or furniture or used condom. These guys will buy anything Jenba related. They love the shit. They put Jenba on their walls, on their clothes, in their¡­nevermind. What matters is they¡¯ll buy, and they¡¯ll buy at three hundred gold a pop, Harrogate. Three hundred. Do you know how to count that high?¡±


    He pivoted his foot, drilling into the floor and moved his hips side to side. Harrogate faced the people across the street, their smiling faces staring directly at the two of them. Happy, smiling people in their white cloaks underneath this spring sun. The fliers waved to one side in their hands.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about this¡­¡± He said.


    ¡°What¡¯s there to not know?¡± She asked. ¡°We¡¯ll be famous.¡±


    ¡°Famous?¡±


    She coughed and cleared her throat.


    ¡°I mean, we¡¯ll have enough to pay our debt. Right?¡±


    ¡°This seems too good to be true, Cecil. Are you sure about this?¡±


    She leaned down and grabbed his palm, swiping every bit of gold he had on him. He looked up to her, twitchy on the face.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to buy a shovel. And a crowbar and a lantern, don¡¯t you worry Harrogate.¡± She said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, she says.¡± He massaged his face.


    ¡°If this doesn¡¯t work out, I¡¯ll hunt as many slimes as you want.¡± She pushed the coins down her pockets and licked her lips.


    ¡°If this doesn¡¯t work out, we¡¯re screwed.¡± He said. ¡°You won¡¯t be hunting shit from a prison cell.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a good feeling about this one. A good feeling.¡± Already in her head, the fantasies were starting to form. The day dreaming so enticing, so visceral that she shivered in place and rubbed her palms together with loud friction. Her eyes narrowed and it was like she wasn¡¯t even looking at Harrogate, or anyone at all. She just kind of smiled at the fantasy of it.


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± The beggar raised his pointer finger to her armpit. The bottle, tucked away neat. ¡°You gonna finish that?¡±


    Her face went flat. She uncorked the rim, took a swig and passed it along.

 1c. Everyone knows skeletons have the best swag

    Above in rusted steel, somewhere below the sharp and forked tips of steel bars it read Hawken¡¯s Cemetery.


    Somewhere below, it read in fine print; Not to be confused with Hawkin¡¯s Catacombs. Though the two were too hellbent on pushing past the door, where the rusted hinges whined with the chafing of their rotation.


    So many tombs, so many stone angels and stone crosses cracked and dilapidated. Graves in uneven rows, across the fields that curved around muddied stone paths. Somewhere to their rear, a crow squawked, perched along the dead limb of a naked pine tree. Cecil turned her shivering head, the crow screamed and jumped and the dried wood shavings fell around her. The two looked at each other, nodding and they went at it, down the coiling path.


    The air dragged past them as Harrogate lifted the top of a tomb decorated with the cherub carving across its gray stone. Here lies Smitty Werben. Harrogate looked down at the space, a wide room for such a thin corpse, his eyes set on the skull below where two empty sockets looked back.


    ¡°You know, I don¡¯t think this is a good idea Cecil.¡± Harrogate twitched.


    ¡°What¡¯re you talking about? We barely started.¡± She was coming from behind, dirt across her face.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to like it, you just have to find something good.¡± She leaned over the coffin. ¡°Find anything good?¡±


    ¡°No. I did not find anything good, it¡¯s a corpse.¡± His whole body shook stiff as he spoke with hiked shoulders. ¡°Are you sure you have the right place?¡±


    ¡°Hawkin¡¯s Catacombs.¡± She said, eyes raised and looking around. ¡°Looks like a catacomb, right?¡±


    ¡°Catacombs are subterranean. Know that means?¡± He said. ¡°It means they¡¯re down below. Get it?¡±


    Surrounding them were the the crosses and angels and slabs of tombstones slanted with deteriorated lettering.


    ¡°I can taste the death in the air. It speaks of horrors lost.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°Aw shucks. You¡¯re just scared, Harry.¡± She slapped him across the back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me Harry.¡± He said. ¡°This is your dumb idea, by the way.¡±


    ¡°You know, I¡¯d appreciate it if you stopped thinking so lowly of me.¡± Her body leaned forward, the wolf pelt bobbed across her neck like a mounted rug. It looked like the damn wolf was talking. ¡°You know what would be helpful? Being nice for once. When¡¯s the last time you appreciated my good ideas?¡±


    ¡°Appreciated your good ideas?¡± He tossed the shovel to the ground, the empty grave-robbing-bag over his shoulder. She leaned down into the tomb (sat by the edge with one leg in and the other out) and ripped off an arm from the mummified being. A loosely white haired creature with tawny colored bones, cracked midway through its femur. She raised it, the pointer finger directed at Harrogate.


    ¡°You need to stop being a coward, that¡¯s your problem.¡± She said. ¡°We¡¯re going to be rich doing this. Remember, Harrogate. Three hundred gold. We just gotta find this Jenba guy, that¡¯s it.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°Three hundred gold.¡± His body eased into a slouch. Money usually did that. ¡°That¡¯s a lot.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re damn right that¡¯s a lot. You know how to count that high?¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡±


    She pulled back the skeleton hand and started counting off the numbers, pressing down on its fingers as she went along.


    ¡°Nevermind.¡± Harrogate sighed and jumped out of the tomb, going a little off the ways to a small gated room that led down. A stairway, locked by a heavy chain and two big iron doors pointed at their ends. Above, a devil¡¯s face on a plaque by the top of the entrance.


    ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s locked.¡± Harrogate started walking.


    Cecil grabbed her great axe and raised it high before screaming her battlecry (which was little less of a huff and puff and more of a Gyaaaa) and the lock snapped open, landing next to Harrogate on the dead grass and rolling some.


    ¡°Oh boy.¡± He said. He walked in front of her, inching down the steps. One quivering foot after the other, his arms to his sides hugging himself against a cold draft that continued up and through the stairway and behind him. Into a dark so deep that flesh of his hands two inches from his face was invisible. Around him the shifting stones and crawling auxiliaries that wandered with tiny-tap sounds across the moss-grown rocks.


    Ten steps in he took a deep breath of damp air. A rock skittered off.


    ¡°Alright, this is a real bad idea Cecil. I know I said it before.¡±


    She pushed him forward.


    ¡°Do you want the money or not?¡± She asked.


    He put his hand against the wall near him and felt the walls, the end of a torch rubbed against his fingers and he grabbed it (screaming out thanks!) and hugged it tight. Sparks. The spit of fire. They had light, he held it in his hands as they wandered down and past a web so thick it stuck to his hair like netting they made it to the main burial room.


    ¡°I wish I didn¡¯t light this.¡± He said. Cecil ran past him, fingers tapping in the air like worms come out for sun. The chamber was filled with seven coffins, three on each side and one dead center; the largest one. On it, a wrap of lettered paper that went around the stone coffin.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think-¡± He said. She grabbed her axe and cut straight clean through and Harrogate swore he heard the noise of laughter or screams or something in between, either which not quite right to the natural sounds of the world.


    ¡°Oh boy.¡± He¡¯d begun to sweat and wiped with his forearm as she put her axe through in between the tomb door and tomb. She sat, the door raised to a bevel and slid down to the floor with a loud thump. The dust raised around it like a cloud that passed through Harrogate.


    And he swore he saw purple winds rise from the tomb and the thin form of a skull they took, laughing as they ran through the air. Jovial, wretched purple faces in mid joy of a foregone ruin and future coming destruction. It looked like passing gas.


    ¡°Let¡¯s stop Cecil. Come on. I¡¯m feeling a little weird now. I mean, it¡¯s immoral, we¡¯re stealing from the dead.¡± He rubbed his forehead. ¡°I mean, would you like to be stolen from if you were dead?¡±


    ¡°If I was dead what the hell would I care what you did to me? I¡¯d be done-soes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s wrong.¡± His teeth rattled. The faces wrapped and went past him up the stairs, his sides hairs swept back at their sudden push. ¡°Cecil. Cecil. Cecil. L-l-lets go.¡±


    ¡°Harrogate.¡± She leaned down and smiled and stuck her arm through. He couldn¡¯t quite see what she did, only heard the sounds of shaking of hollow bones but when she came back up she had a ruby encrusted necklace hanging from her hands, gold chained with a rim resembling angel wings.


    ¡°Look what I found.¡± She smiled.


    And the two adventurers left, empty in the sack but not empty in their hopes and hearts. They nearly skipped their way through the stone path, smiling and laughing along the way and beyond the slamming metal doors. Naive, in the stupor of a treasure-drunk joy. They left, not a thing of worry in their hearts as they did. But something crept its way behind them or rather - somethings.


    In slow, methodical clockwork, the coffin tops moved and stuttered. The ancient graves rumbled and the dirt shifted and the empty sockets of worm-rummaged skulls glowed bright neon green. The birds ran. The auxiliaries skittered off their soon-to-be-living bonemeal. And below in the crypts, an ivory grip took firm hold of its tomb lid. It squeezed and the stone broke to gravel¡­

 1d. They ignored her because she spoke the truth

    Cecile kicked through the doors of the cultists¡¯ base err¡­the church. Her stance widened and arms angled at her hips. The smile, bright and white across the battle-scarred round face of hers. The sun, beaming¡­bright¡­cut off. Harrogate stepped up next to her, his head leaned down a bit.


    About fifty cultists turned around, suspicion and contempt all across their faces. The ones that lifted up their cloaks, at least.


    ¡°Well, let us tell you something.¡± Cecile said. ¡°I got what you¡¯re all looking for. A real life Jenba artifact.¡±


    She rose her hands, open palms facing them.


    ¡°I know. I know. Hold your surprise.¡±


    They sniffed the air and puckered their lips and picked their noses and¡­did anything but hold surprise. The people by the pews, standing tall to the brazen pair. She looked around at the pillars, at the colored glass of Jenba. Jenba who came down, who gifted life to the dead wheat germs. Jenba who fought off the dragons in shining, colored-glass armor. The whole history here, across the walls and chiseled columns and sanctimonious clothes laid out at the front. Where there, Jenba was as a statue, arms dragged back in chains in prostration before his death.


    ¡°What a fucking trip.¡± Harrogate said. ¡°This place gives me the creeps.¡±


    ¡°We have your God¡¯s amulet.¡± She dug deep into her pockets and raised it high. The ruby gem that reflected a bit of light from outside the open doors.


    They all whispered, some eased the tension across their foreheads.


    ¡°Did Jenba have an amulet?¡± One of them asked.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know he was dead.¡± Another clasped his hands to his side. The murmurs grew, the eddy of noise coming to its clash until - the priest slammed down his hand. A man by the front bestowed in all blue, with what looked like a slime on top of his head, which was really just a blue round cap with striped lines of red.


    ¡°Silence.¡± He said. ¡°Give her a chance to speak.¡±


    The man next to this priest, a young man with brown, thin hair and gaunt looking cheeks tugged at the priest¡¯s arm-sleeve. Which was blue, by the way.


    ¡°Kick them out, sire.¡± He said. ¡°There¡¯s no need to entertain heathens. The ceremony is at it¡¯s midpoint, we¡¯ve only just begone on the book of Junpa. Junpa twenty-two-four.¡±


    ¡°We can hear you, you know that?¡± Cecile said across the room.


    ¡°Give them a word. Let them have their peace.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a court room, ya know that?¡± The young man said.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you shut your mouth, kid.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°It¡¯s not kid, It¡¯s Turnus. And no, Jenba compel you.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see if Jenba will compel my foot up your ass.¡± Cecil said.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Everyone gasped. Harrogate started sweating. She looked down at him, he had his hands tucked under his armpits and she nudged him with her knee.


    ¡°I need you able, alright?¡± Her voice cracked. Everyone, still murmuring and still talking. But most of them, waiting and it was the eyes that killed her slowly. The google-eyed, patient, lip licking wondering on them all.


    ¡°Yes. I have the amulet of Jenba.¡± Her eyes darted in opposite directions. ¡°From uh¡­Ruspin fourteen¡­twenty¡­seven¡­? The uh. Book thing.¡±


    She breathed hard.


    ¡°You¡¯re full of it.¡± Turnus said.


    The people looked to him now, nodding up and down. She started to creep back, the amulet dangling by her hands thinking, I should have just pawned this for fifty gold bucks.


    She took another step back, her shoulder touched the door frame behind her. The air drew her further in, the embrace of retreat.


    ¡°Now wait.¡± Harrogate said. ¡°You would be remiss to ignore this amulet.¡±


    He penguin-wobbled towards her, grabbed the amulet and raised it high (it wasn¡¯t that high).


    ¡°It was by this divine object that Jenba came down to the people of Vulkibule, or would you forget the Ruby of Life gifted to the true prophet Jenba for his accomplishments in the Juvla wars.¡± Harrogate wasn¡¯t look at them. Cecile turned to the direction he looked at, near the glass pictures on the wall and the writing written boldly underneath the frames. She narrowed her eyes; the words were fine.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly what he was saying, not even close. But boy did the people eat it up.


    ¡°It was by this divine object that he gave life to the dead farms. It was by this object that he led the four kings through the artic of Nuvla. It was by this-¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the scripture at all!¡± Turnus said.


    ¡°Is it? I can¡¯t read.¡± Someone in the audience said.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s not. None of this is.¡±


    ¡°It was by this object that Jenba came to be the true prophet for the five gods, and by this object that his divinity is validated by the Church of Jenba. Would you not agree, Priest? Or would you deny that.¡±


    The priest looked at the faith-comers. The gaped mouth, just-about-ready-to-believe-anything look across their faces. The beaten down, seduced, committed Jenba¡¯s Witnesses.


    The priest cleared his throat.


    ¡°Tell ¡®em.¡± Turnus crossed his arms, somewhere behind the tall stand. A whole crowd, a whole five pillars and about six pictures of history between the two liars and the other two liars. The priest raised his hand and pressed it down on a black leather bound book. Cecile took a step forward, she grabbed the amulet and raised it high above so that for the brief moment, it was like the sun had condensed on its oval body and sustained itself as a bright star in the open air.


    They gasped.


    ¡°We are here to deliver this artifact to you people, to your priest who will be first bearer of the Amulet of Life.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Harrogate smiled.


    ¡°T-that¡¯s right.¡± The priest said.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± The people said, clapping and shaking each other and kissing. Small and old, and young and tall bodies all coming together in the group-love of a common faith.


    ¡°I can¡¯t even read!¡± A man shouted, joyous.


    They ran to her, got near her and somewhere along the way Harrogate was pushed to the side. His brief, hey relax, coming to sudden muteness against the river of laughter and yells from the Jenbas Witnesses. They came with such fury, some fleetfooted stampede that everyone was knocked away. Priest, Harrogate. And Turnus.


    Turnus, who tried to stop them. She could see it on his face, the ruin building up with the creased lines of stress that formed along his cheeks.


    ¡°Hey, stop that. She¡¯s a liar!¡± He pulled one person out of a time, but three filled in the gap.


    ¡°Stop this! What the fu-¡± Someone knocked him away.


    Now it was just her. Not Harrogate, not Turnus. Just her and the amulet¡­But somewhere else, creatures stirred¡­


    The shuffling stampede of zombies continued on past the graveyard. Here came Smitty, here came the living bones and the bloated flesh of unholy cadavers in their stunted, mechanical movements. Each of them, a whole army of them, stepping through the mud of the woods. They came through the brushes, through the trees, knocking everything out their path. Then they stopped, each glowy-eyed specimen looking down the hilltop.


    They stopped to look down at Kraven¡¯s Willow. The city of slimes. The home of the Jenbians. Or Jenbian Witnesses.


    They stopped and opened their mouths in a loud, practiced bite down and started down the winding path towards the city.

 1e. Hello sir, have you accepted Jenba into your heart?

    It¡¯d been a day for Harrogate, that was a way to describe it. Being pushed to the side and exited out of the church, Cecil¡¯s final smiling face between closing doors.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯ll get us rich, don¡¯t worry!¡± She said, and the doors slammed in front of him and covered him in shade. Outside the people wandering the streets with their candy-colored clothes stared at him. The wind blew, his side hairs pushed aside. The long coats and sleeves and hats of the passer byers swayed in the wind.


    ¡°So that¡¯s that then.¡± Harrogate came down the street, rubbing his chin. Wondering¡­how it¡¯d happen.


    It happened pretty fast and pretty¡­good? Maybe too good.


    That next morning he came by the church house again, staring up at the great engraving at the top, the one on the gold plaque above the door frame with the carved angels and coronating the square. He knocked once and pushed his hang back to knock again, loud. The door opened. One eye came out from between the slits.


    ¡°Hey. I was here yesterday. Ya remember?¡± He rubbed his elbow. ¡°Do you know if Cecil is here?¡±


    ¡°The¡­the sun goddess?¡± The person said with a voice so craggy and deep that a cthulian creation would have been impressed.


    ¡°Uh. Yeah. Red hair. Wolf jacket-thing.¡±


    The voice whispered into the room, their eye disappearing from the door frame. Harrogate pushed his head in through the crack, eyes narrowed. The eye appeared. A different one, a woman this time.


    ¡°Wait here.¡± She said.


    The door closed. Peoples feet shuffled. An arm grabbed him and pulled him in before he had a chance to scream, and sat him right there on a wooden chair in the receptionist room. Which was the first room.


    Hands, and people that disappeared as soon as he landed hard on the wooden chair. The room was blue, his head spun. Plotted plants came down from the corners of window sills. Pictures of the priest, of Turnus, of¡­Cecil? Hung from the walls. To his right, on a stand; pamphlets.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Dying soon? Don¡¯t get insurance, get Jenba. It read. He took one and opened it and started going through when another door opened, on the other side opposite of his, two long big wooden oak doors. Cecil came through, smiling like it¡¯d never gone away yesterday.


    ¡°Cecil. The amulet¡­the money¡­the pictures¡­uh.¡± He said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I paid our debt this morning,¡± She had her palm out, golden and ruby rings lined her fingers.


    ¡°Cecil.¡± He said. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± She asked. ¡°We¡¯ll never be poor again. I¡¯m a chosen one now, Harry.¡±


    ¡°A chosen what?¡±


    ¡°Someone picked, like a lottery sort of.¡± She said. ¡°Except Jenba picked me.¡±


    ¡°Cecil, we gotta leave. We gotta hitch a ride and go somewhere else to make money. You understand? We can¡¯t stay here and be¡­prophets or whatever.¡±


    A follower came to her rear lugging a great ax. Cecil carried it - the wolf ordained on the pommel - spun it, and placed it on her back.


    ¡°I got it all now, Harry.¡± She said. ¡°Money. Fame. And this awesome ax. I¡¯m done running, I¡¯m done working. I¡¯m staying here and so should you.¡±


    ¡°Gods damn you.¡±


    People gasped in the background, behind the doors.


    ¡°We gotta go, Cecil.¡± He said. ¡°These people aren¡¯t normal. Lets just rip ¡®em off and leave.¡±


    She leaned down at him and put her hand on his shoulder. She smelled of alcohol. Of wine.


    ¡°Harry. We won¡¯t need to rip off anyone ever again.¡± She said. ¡°Come, stick around. The tribute is tonight.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± He asked. ¡°Who¡¯s the tribute, to what?¡±


    And the many faces of the followers peered through the outline of the door, one head at a time until the square frame was filled with the same-face of smiling followers.


    Harrogate¡¯s eyes went wide. His head reeled back, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.


    Somewhere in the outskirt of the village.


    And all the while the undead roamed in the drove of some insatiable hunger, tearing through the dumbfounded cows tipped over their sides, mooing as the zombies came down to suckle - and chew on their udders. A man stepped out of a house, fork in hand.


    ¡°How many times am I gonna have to tell you all?¡± He said. ¡°I ain¡¯t handing my daughter away!¡±


    The zombies continued, stumbling on, stepping through the mud and onto the wooden-floored front of the house.


    ¡°You hearing me?¡± The old man said. Toothless at the front of his mouth, with his face tightened. ¡°Where¡¯re my damn glasses.¡±


    ¡°What you need ¡®em for¡¯?¡± A voice asked.


    ¡°To shoot that damn Gendry that keeps comin¡¯ around.¡±


    ¡°Not him pa, I love him.¡±


    And the zombies approached, feet away from him, coming towards a lunge.


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah. You just love everyone, don''t ya. Why don''t you start loving some rich kid, huh? Hu-¡± He turned. The weight on his shoulder. ¡°God damn, Gendry. You got fat or something? Let go of my arm.¡±


    The zombie drew its head back. Its teeth drawn.


    ¡°My arm, Gendry.¡±


    It dug straight through, like butter.


    ¡°My arm!¡±

 1f. The False Prophet and her sidekick

    ¡°What the hell is this all about?¡± Harrogate paced back and forth, stumbling around the room with all the candle sticks and small supposedly sacrilegious ornaments lining the walls. A dresser to the side, Cecil sat by it with her palms on her knees.


    ¡°It¡¯s a whole¡­club, Harry.¡±


    ¡°What kind of clubs tribute people?¡±


    ¡°The fun ones, obviously.¡±


    ¡°What does tribute mean?¡± He bit his nails.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She put a fist to her chest and her face tightened, pressing down she burped. The smell burned his nose hairs, he turned his face away. Somewhere on the counter the bottle of blue swirled and spun in place. He lifted it up to the air, the mucus-like slime going from one end of the bottle to the other. He couldn¡¯t see the candle light through the textured goop.


    ¡°Have you been drinking this?¡± He turned to her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°This is what they¡¯re feeding you? This is what they¡¯re feeding everyone.¡± He unplugged the cork. ¡°Sweet Jenba, it¡¯s burning my face.¡±


    She swiped the bottle from him and took a swig.


    ¡°Burns pretty good, huh.¡± She said.


    ¡°You¡¯re drunk. You¡¯re out of your mind and we need to get out.¡± He said. ¡°We got our money, lets scram before things get out of hand.¡±


    ¡°Things are perfectly f-¡± She burped. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s just party, Harry. Just go put on your dress and lets get drunk.¡±


    Her arms, high in the air waving left and right.


    He looked behind the door, where the coat hanger had a white gown or cloak coming down to the floor.


    ¡°No. These people give me the creeps, everything about this place gives me the creeps.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it. What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    He looked at her, head tilted and started making moves for her bottle. Got halfway. The door kicked open.


    ¡°Does no one fucking knock.¡± Harrogate said.


    Turnus came in with wide stride, chest pumped out.


    ¡°What the hell have you done to my family?¡± He asked. ¡°You all have a lot to answer for.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°She does. I don¡¯t. But we¡¯re leaving.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re leaving huh?¡± He raised his sleeves, two skinny arms hairless and pale. ¡°You think you could rile up my whole church on this blasphemy and get out unharmed?¡±


    ¡°Buddy, I am one hundred percent with you. Let me just take Cecile here and I¡¯ll be more than happy to discipline her. Far. Far away from here.¡±


    ¡°Uh, huh. You¡¯re going to go out there and give back everything you¡¯ve taken-¡± He looked down at Cecil, fingers pointed. ¡°Are those the rings of Yagamoto the wise? Third prophet of the five gods?¡±


    She wiggled her fingers and got them extended at arms length from her slipping and spinning eyes.


    ¡°Look purty, huh.¡± She said.


    ¡°By Jenba.¡± Turnus said. His palms were set on his face, he took steps in and out of the room. From the small almost-closet like space to the wide echoing chambers of a high-vaulted ceiling marbled room. Outside, where Harrogate could see his shadow dragged and disappearing into the brightened room of the mass hall. Then, coming in again.


    He looked sweaty by his fourth time.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spent twelve years lectured under the ways of Jenba.¡± His fingers pointed to the ground. ¡°Twelve years, to have my sanctity tested here at last, to a drunkard heathen. I will not have my faith mocked.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a little too late for that, bud.¡± Harrogate said.


    Turnus lifted his gown, the white cloth pinched at his knees. He brought it up, sleeves coming undone and wrapping around balled fists. He walked up to Cecil - who still sat, drinking by the way. Harrogate watched from the side line at their silhouettes, the lanky Turnus coming forward and the drunkard doing twirls with her head as she tilted the bottle up and slammed it down like a gavel on the wooden surface of the tableside.


    His hands shook, his lips were sucked in.


    ¡°There is no sun goddess. That amulet is a fake. There isn¡¯t a single passage in the book of Jenba referencing that damn apple around your neck.¡± He said. ¡°You¡¯re going to go out there and tell them as much. You¡¯re going to take everything you¡¯ve taken and leave, immediately.¡±


    His voice had a timbre that had Harrogate¡¯s hairs raised in the back of his neck. A deep sound that was surprising to hear from such a small, and narrow-throated man. His eyes looked forward to hers without blinking, the sinews across his body were all flexed like an animal ready to attack.


    Cecile burped.


    She sniffed, looked at him then tilted her head.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I say I was going to put my foot up your ass?¡± She stood.


    His neck craned up. His back straightened. And his whole body shook, looking up.


    They ran out the door.


    ¡°Oh gosh.¡± Harrogate said.


    They went out the hall, who knows in what room on the two storied church. And somewhere beyond their shuffle of footsteps, the people clapped. The building rattled.


    ¡°Tribute! Tribute! Tribute!¡±


    Harrogate¡¯s heart raced.


    ¡°Oh, Jenba.¡± And he started looking for a window in a room where there were none.


    Outside the gates


    The cobblestone fell in broken chunks from the sides of buildings. The thatched rooftops exploded, the oak-foundational pillars fell to the side of brick roads. The people ran, some with blood all across their faces; others with the cake of smoke and concrete pale against their face. The smoke stacks grew across the city of Kraven¡¯s Willow.


    A man fell, blood jettisoned out his neck and into the corrugations and crevices amongst the raised concrete of a broken street. Somewhere next to his head, the guild sign fell and cracked.


    He laid there, pupils widening then dissolving into total black.


    He closed his eyes, and when they opened; they were yellow. He stood. Flicked his arms and legs, and dragged across the collapse of the city. All of them, going deeper. All of them, aiming for the heart of the city. The church.

 1g. On the third day

    Harrogate was wrapped in the cloth like a ham in in butcher paper, lifted on a throne with the chains around his wrists and securing him down on the chair.


    ¡°Oh boy.¡± He said. ¡°Oh boy, oh boy.¡±


    The crowd around him lifted their hands up, their palms grabbing and pushing the feet of the chair further down the wide mass. A room filled to the brim with the smiling, crazed faces. They all wore the same white gown, the one with gold tipped threading at the end. A full crowd of people, in a room so claustrophobic that the very air was heavy. Each breath was a struggle, fighting tired him twice as fast. He pulled his arm out, the chain dug into his skin.


    ¡°Cecile!¡± He shouted. ¡°Where are you?¡±


    His head turned, she was beyond in the back and chasing down Turnus with her left sandal in her hand.


    They sat him finally at the front, the Priest before them.


    ¡°We¡¯re all here to celebrate the one that was promised, the sun bearer Cecile.¡± He said. The applause came sharp. ¡°And how were we to expect she¡¯d bring us two gifts yesterday?¡±


    They clapped.


    ¡°This is a sign, yes. A sign by Jenba himself that the promised times are coming.¡± He said. ¡°That we will rise up as the new people, the great people, to the kingdom that is promised.¡±


    ¡°Man, this got out of hand didn¡¯t it?¡± Harrogate said. He looked down from his high-raised seating on the altar. The gown came down, nearly five feet off the floor. His head looked across the expanse of people.


    ¡°But we should not expect the greatness of Jenba to come freely. We should not expect him to do all the work. Because what is faith without sacrifice, and loyalty without the price paid?¡± Out from the Priest¡¯s backside, the knife came out with a wild shchling and gleam of the sun.


    ¡°Oh boy.¡± The sweat poured down his face.


    ¡°All debts will be paid here.¡± The priest said. ¡°For Jenba.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°For Jenba!¡± The group yelled.


    ¡°Cecil! For the love of the five gods, come over here and help me!¡± Harrogate said.


    He turned his head and saw her behind one of the pillars, Turnus in her headlock with the shoe still up in the air and the red marks across the young apprentices face. She looked at Harrogate, at the priest, at the guy in her arms. Then the door opened. It slammed open. They all turned. All armed and unarmed, all roaring and silent; all of them towards those two twin doors at the end side of the room.


    Outside the room and streets were dark and in the shadows of that other room, they couldn¡¯t see much but the sound of movement. They reared their heads closer. Harrogate shimmied in place (no one was looking¡­no one). He went underneath the chains around his waist and turned the chair left and right.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± The priest turned. But Harrogate had fallen to the floor, the wooden chair shattered and he ran out with his small legs, pulling at his own cloak. Out, out into the sidelines towards Cecile. The priest started to chase but then the noises came from that other, dark room.


    The moaning, biting, sloppy noises of the otherworldly.


    A zombie came through, rotting at the flesh with the jewelry around his neck and fingers. His finger pointed to Cecile, one long bony finger. The priest walked through parting crowds, towards this fiend. His head shifted between Cecile and the zombie. He walked up to him, looked him up and down.


    ¡°Oh my¡­¡± He said.


    The crowd looked, half-disgusted and half shocked. Then the priest prostrated.


    He brought his head up.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it, Jenba has come to us! He¡¯s resurrected!¡± His hands were high risen to the air.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve got to be fucking kidding me.¡± Harrogate said, chair arms hanging by the chains around his wrist. ¡°Cecile, let¡¯s get out before this gets worse.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s already worse, Harry.¡± She let go of Turnus who didn¡¯t move much. Rather they all looked at the priest, center of the mass with the zombie moaning behind him.


    ¡°He¡¯s here. Our Savior, he¡¯s here!¡± The priest stood, hands widespanned. The zombie stepped up once, tilted its head and moaned.


    ¡°Yes. Yes, Jenba. What do you have to say? Speak your wisdom, please father.¡± The priest said. He held the zombie by the shoulders. The zombie eyed him. Sniffed. He drew his head back and¡­


    ¡°Oh gosh.¡± Cecile said.


    ¡°Oh my.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°Oh fuck.¡± Turnus said.


    One chomp. Right down the shoulder, the priest screamed out. The blood squirted across the crowd, the crowd scrambled and screamed. The zombies flooded through the twin doors. The priest flailed his arms. Harrogate and Cecile tripped over the crowd. Cecile grabbed her ax. Turnus ran for the shards of wood, he picked up a stake. Arms trembling.


    ¡°Get a-away.¡± He said. ¡°Get away Jenba!¡±


    Bam. Right through the zombie, killing it immediately. The priest bled on the floor, eyes widening.


    Turnus looked at the scene. At all the people dying and the zombies crashing through the windows, he stretched the skin on his face out.


    ¡°I killed Jenba.¡± Turnus said. ¡°He¡¯s dead. Again!¡±

 1h. And they lived to tell the tale.

    It was Cecile, Harrogate and Turnus running through the streets in that brisk jog, the wind against them and the rising morning sun a grace in the distance. A beautiful red orb against the haze of smoke, causing a bright peak against the mountainscape.


    And the zombies were chasing, right behind them.


    ¡°Drop the necklace!¡± Harrogate said. He slipped underneath two lifeless legs, the creature looked down with its palms open. It brushed against his bald, glossy head - but he was too greased to be caught. Cecile chopped a creature in half, the blood against her face.


    ¡°Oh, come on Harry. Do I have to?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What do you think, Turnus?¡± She asked. He was right behind them, running with his head facing the floor. All of them backed into an alley, empty but with the sounds of the creatures somewhere off in the distance. In the buildings, on the fountain rims, under the bridges.


    ¡°I killed my lord and savior.¡± He had his fingers to his temples and rubbed them. ¡°I shoved a stake through his heart. His reanimated heart.¡±


    With an empty stare, he looked at the floor; mouth slightly ajar in the stupidity of guilt.


    Harrogate jumped up and slapped him.


    ¡°Keep yourself together, man.¡±


    He rubbed his cheeks. ¡°Ow.¡±


    ¡°Cecile, you¡¯re dropping that shit. It¡¯s what woke ¡®em up in the first place.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that!¡± She said.


    In the distance, a zombie screamed; ¡°Return the amulet.¡±


    They all looked at that direction, at the coming migration of sluggish reanimators.


    ¡°See?¡± Harrogate pointed. And pointed. And pointed.


    ¡°It could - Uh. It could be any amulet.¡± She held it with two hands close to her chest.


    ¡°Return the red amulet!¡± A zombie screamed.


    Harrogate jumped and ripped the chain from her neck, the gold chains snapping and falling to the floor. He ran, Cecile right behind him trying to chase his grip. He had it up, with his back postured to throw before she grabbed him and pulled on his face and arm.


    ¡°No, Harry. No.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°It¡¯s just an amulet.¡±


    ¡°It made me famous. I¡¯m the sun goddess Harry, the sun goddess!¡± She said. ¡°Let me have this, please!¡±


    And they wrestled, both of them pulling at each others cheeks and faces, scratching and biting and grabbing. And somewhere against that brick wall in the alley, with the burning underpants on wires above them and the falling corpses that exploded onto the floor from dead people along the balcony edges was Turnus, watching. His eyes glossed over the violence. Over these two idiots.


    ¡°It¡¯s all this stupid things fault.¡± His fist tightened. Harrogate could see it in corner of his eyes, even with Cecile¡¯s hand tight on his scalp. ¡°It¡¯s all your fault!¡±


    He ran up and grabbed the amulet from in between them. He wound his arm and shot, threw the amulet dead center at a market place. Every zombie in the vicinity turned their heads and stood still in curiosity, their heads roused and tilted up. The necklace landed, rolled a few times and fell flat jewel-side up. And the zombies shuffled towards it.


    ¡°No! No!¡± Cecile said. Harrogate held her back by the leg. Turnus had his arms slouched to his side.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡± Harrogate said. He dragged her to back into alley. Turnus shuffled behind them, a kind of zombie in his own right. They went through a gate, Harrogate sealed it with Cecile¡¯s ax.


    ¡°Not the ax too, Harry. Please.¡± She had her hands clasped as he gripped it.


    His eyes narrowed, he shoved it in between two metal bars.


    ¡°Come on, man.¡± Her shoulders slouched. They went through the back end, out the city and towards a forest. Their breaths in desperate exhaustion, their whole postures tilted over. The three stragglers, walking through to a farmhouse some distance from the city where inside Harrogate could see the shifting shadows of people through the window.


    ¡°Bring a thicker boy next time, hooooneeyyy.¡± One of the creatures said.


    ¡°Daddd. I¡¯m in love with this one.¡± A female said, voice morphed and deep. ¡°In love with this ones braainnn.¡±


    Harrogate¡¯s face soured. He walked a little off to the distance, towards a horse enclosure where two steeds; one black and one white stared with stupid, slow-blinking eyes.


    A carriage, unmounted, but with the straps to its side waited opposite the enclosure.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Harrogate said. ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡±


    ¡°I lost it all, Harry.¡± Cecile mumbled.


    ¡°I killed my God.¡± Turnus mumbled.


    She took out a flask and took a swig and turned her head to Turnus. He nodded at her and took the flask from her hand. It was a rotation between the two, each taking longer and deeper drinks.


    ¡°Is this where you two die, metaphorically, I mean?¡± Harrogate rushed in between them and clasped the drinks. ¡°We just survived a zombie attack. Do you know how miraculous that is?¡±


    ¡°Almost as miraculous as killing your prophet?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I had fame and fortune, Harry. I was their queen.¡± She said. ¡°Now I¡¯m axless. Jewel-less. People-less.¡±


    ¡°And brainless, it sounds like. Listen, we¡¯re alive. Do you know what that means?¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯m asking rhetorically, of course, neither of you know what that means.¡±


    They nodded.


    ¡°It means we can still spend the rest of our lives fixing our mistakes. It means we still have a chance to be better people, that¡¯s what it means to be alive. To be human, it¡¯s the quest for inner-peace. Cecile.¡±


    Behind them the church building exploded in a ball of fire so severe and great that they could see, miles away.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get out.¡± Harrogate said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be an accomplice to this.¡±


    And they were off. Fifty gold paid from a one million dollar debt. About twenty-four thousand casualties and a whole city demolished to fire and wreckage. Two drunks and an angry little man, set off with their stolen horse and carriage (is it theft if the people are dead? Living dead?).


    Their hearts full and sullen, their spirits beaten; but their wills strong.


    The map laid out inside their cart, marked and red-penned.


    Zullywood was next on the list.

 2a. The City of Dreams (and Sins)

    They came into Zullywood and all the splendor of the entertainment town. The bright lights inside thin shaped glass from mana orbs fluttering within. Marques that signaled and pointed to restaurants, burlesque shows, comedy skits. Streets were lined with the glow, the city never seemed to lose it¡¯s light. The streets, those of white soapstone, were filled with the eccentrics. Mimes, painted silver elves, barbarians dressed as monsters with fanged masks. The show was wandering the streets, the price of admission was free.


    Harrogate leaned against a palm tree, the green hand wide across the sky. He rubbed his inner shoe.


    ¡°You know, I think we¡¯ll be straight for another few weeks. I stole some of that basket money from the church before.¡± He said.


    ¡°How much?¡± Cecile wiped the sweat from her forehead, the glare of a sign that read ¡®Ubfirts Mighty Steaks¡¯ glared against her shiny forehead.


    ¡°About two-fiddy.¡±


    ¡°Two hundo¡¯?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right-o.¡± He said.


    ¡°Why are we talking like this?¡±


    They shrugged and came down the street. A man on a wooden unicycle juggled vases filled with fairies. They didn¡¯t seem so pleased being thrown in circles, a whole four of them with upside down frowns as they went in circles.


    ¡°I¡¯m changing a new leaf, Harry.¡± She said. ¡°You really inspired me with that talk.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± She said. ¡°I¡¯m done being immoral. I¡¯m done taking advantage of people. I want to earn money, but earn it fair and square. I want to be helpful. A hero. You know?¡±


    ¡°A hero, huh?¡±


    ¡°Why are you laughing?¡± She asked.


    He had his face turned. Cecile grabbed him by the shoulders and raised him and shook him like a toy infant, bobbing his head up and down as he laughed and laughed.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Beyond her stale and dry face, behind a window, were the crystal balls that had giant holograms imposed on the walls. Zullywood. The city of dreams.


    They returned to the carriage a little after noon, the sun just about to set and the low red glare set across the high-rise buildings of Zullywood. The wind carried ocean currents from some sea miles away, a salty breeze that ran through their heads as they wandered back to the outskirts and to their posted carriage held to the ground by spikes. The horses at hay, Harrogate had a glaring contest with them. He lost.


    She opened the flaps to the canvas behind the cart and peeked her head inside.


    Somewhere in the corner, in an obscure darkness, a figure woke up with dazed and lazy movements. It had - this figure - its hands up against its face. Bloodshot eyes showed through the crevices of their finger gaps.


    ¡°Harry, there¡¯s another homeless in here.¡± She said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get the whip.¡±


    ¡°Close the damn li-¡± A hiccup. ¡°Close the damn lights.¡±


    ¡°Turnus?¡± She asked. ¡°I thought you left?¡±


    ¡°We told you to leave, you freeloader.¡± Harrogate hopped up the edge of the cart and poked his head beneath Cecile¡¯s.


    At the bottom of the wooden cart, bottles rolled across the floor with the stench so strong that they pulled away with burned nostrils. His face appeared, then and there, apparition-like.


    ¡°Close the lights.¡± He said. Almost as if hissing.


    ¡°Sweet Jenba.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak His name.¡± Turnus said. ¡°I found God and I killed Him.¡±


    ¡°Oh boy, he¡¯s in that phase.¡± Cecile said, mumbled and low. ¡°Listen, Turnus. Magic Academy is over now, you can grow up.¡±


    ¡°There is no growing up. God is dead.¡±


    ¡°Relax Nietzsche.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Nitcha?¡± Cecile asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Harrogate came through the flaps. ¡°Turnus. You¡¯ve got to go.¡±


    He shook his shoulder, this balled pygmy in the corner of the room with the slobbering, hissing noise and the widened nostrils and the two murderous eyes like a winding rabid animal.


    ¡°Get out.¡± He threw a bottle. ¡°Out!¡±


    Harrogate ducked. It hit Cecile across the top of the head. Though given the hollow noise, it didn¡¯t sound like it made much rattle.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you get all this liquor from?¡± Cecile asked. The bottle rolled beneath her foot.


    Harrogate¡¯s eyes widened. He grabbed Turnus by his stained white jacket.


    ¡°How. Did you. Buy. This. Liquor?¡±


    And Turnus smiled. Then burped.


    ¡°Thank you for your donation to the church.¡± He turned his head, it jerked and the vomit pooled and pooled beneath Harrogate¡¯s boots.


    ¡°Harry.¡± Cecile said.


    ¡°Yes, Cecile?¡± He looked down with a flat face, shoulders hunched. The face on him seeming a bit mortified. A bit in shock. A bit impressed. Mostly defeated.


    ¡°I think we need to get a job.¡± She said.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re right.¡± Harrogate said.

 2b. With friends like these...

    Cecile jogged through the streets, hands in her pockets and the distant wailing of a band playing near a sprouting fountain. Her head high and turning rapidly like a schizophrenic in the middle of hysteria; look this way! Look that! Glowing monsters, painted nightmares. The signs and the lights, advertisement with such bright coloring and mana-lighting that they looked like hellspawn.


    Cecile turned, a giant sabretooth snout was in her face. She jumped.


    It was an entrance to a bar: The Angry Pussy.


    Everyone passed them knew her to be foreigners, giggling and putting their hands over their mouths, while their eyebrows jumped at the country pumpkins.


    ¡°This your first time in a city?¡± Harrogate asked.


    ¡°O-of course.¡± She ran into a pole and rubbed her head.


    ¡°You were homeschooled, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I was educated by the finest minds.¡± She said. ¡°That¡¯s what mom and pa always said.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but how often did you get out?¡± Harrogate asked.


    ¡°I walked through the gardens. Sometimes.¡± She said.


    ¡°Sometimes.¡± Harrogate rubbed his chin. ¡°You got that dumb innocence. You could be a waitress, you know that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not waiting any tables.¡± She said. ¡°You know how I feel about taking orders.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯d be a shame if you could make money like a normal human being.¡± He said.


    He stood post near a corner street, picking pinned papers off a job-board, the crude drawings of wanted men (One such called Jeremiah Du¡¯Vall) and the wild postings of savage animals near town with pelts to collect, and money to bank. He went through these papers, eyes narrowing and head turning in subtle declination of each prospect. And she? She stood, shoulders shrugged with her head away from the lights and trying hard not to focus on the passing laughter.


    ¡°Assholes¡­¡±


    A deep breath. Honking carriages with neon-wheels zoomed past, the manes colored equally clownish.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Hey. Hey you!¡± Across the street, someone waved. She put her hand across her forehead and leaned her face in. A horse zoomed back. Back up, country bumpkin.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m talking to you. The cute girl with the red hair!¡± Again, his hands fluttered in the air. ¡°Wanna make some money?¡±


    Above, the sign read GALAXY STUDIOS.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the catch?¡± Harrogate asked.


    Cecile stood next to the stocky looking fellow, his eyes looking down at Harrogate with what seemed like disgust.


    ¡°There is no catch, dwarf.¡± He said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a dwarf. I¡¯m just¡­¡±


    ¡°Small.¡±


    They stared at each other, the intensity between them like the sword clash of two sabers. One giant spark of metal slamming on metal.


    ¡°Harry.¡± Cecile began, her own hands making the gestures of a dealer or seller. ¡°It¡¯s like he says, I¡¯m going to star in what they call. Movies. Do you know what a movie is, Harrogate.¡±


    ¡°I know it sounds full of shit, Cecile.¡± He turned to her.


    ¡°It¡¯s a hundred gold. How much do we need?¡±


    ¡°A hundred gold.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°So then I star in this movie. They pitch me as an actor, you know what an actor is, right? So the whole thing is a play, like they have on the stage. But they record it with this magic bal-¡±


    ¡°Cecile.¡± He took her by the arm and pulled her to the side, lowering her head down to his level. ¡°You got any idea if this guys good for his word or not?¡±


    ¡°Harry, what¡¯s the big deal?¡± She said. ¡°He¡¯s nobleblood. Wanna know how I know that? Because I¡¯m nobleblood. We just know each other, it¡¯s a thing. It¡¯s like harmonizing our periods and stuff. Except with money.¡±


    ¡°How can you harmonize what you don¡¯t have?¡± Harrogate asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, ain¡¯t it?¡±


    He stomped on the floor and looked around, the fellow looking shifty underneath his tophat and bow-tied suit. Big jowls on his face pleated down, the curtain drawn on his fat neck. His cheeks flushed, the sweat on his forehead. There wasn¡¯t a lick about him that looked clean, anyway Harrogate saw it.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Harrogate turned to the man, walked up a few steps until they were just a single breath¡¯s distance away from each other.


    ¡°Alright?¡± The shifty fellow asked.


    ¡°Cumbrick, was it?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± Cumbrick said.


    ¡°A hundred gold for her acting, where do I fit in?¡±


    ¡°In a small box.¡± He said. ¡°A very, very small box.¡±


    ¡°I want in on this movie.¡± He said.


    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m making her famous, not you.¡±


    ¡°Famous?¡± He turned to Cecile. His head turned in epiphany. ¡°Famous, you said? We¡¯re definitely not taking your deal.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m definitely taking his deal.¡± Cecile said.


    ¡°Oh you gatta be kidding me, you¡¯re going to leave me like that?¡± Harrogate asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. It¡¯s just a few days, Harry. A few days and we¡¯ll have all the money we could need.¡±


    ¡°And what am I supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But hopefully not movies.¡± Cumbrick said. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Cecile.¡±


    She turned her shoulders to him, nodding. ¡°I¡¯ll be back.¡±


    Her form fading into the crowd of people that congested the streets with a rainbow¡¯s variation of clothes and flesh and paint. Elves with dreads, dwarfs with little monkeys on their shoulders. A whole assortment of these people, and there were the two, heading into it all


    ¡°I¡¯m not good enough for movies?¡± Harrogate kicked the floor, it streaked black against his soles. ¡°I¡¯ll show you. Assholes.¡±

 2c. Is this even legal?

    Harrogate walked some ways down the street with his hands in his pockets and his face leaning down, the day growing on his face as small black patches on his chin. The weariness on his eyes, blackened, like a hollow skull. He kicked a rock down the street and it creaked somewhere far from him.


    ¡°Hey, you. Dwarf.¡± Someone said, muted behind the sound of huffing. A pipe burned red in the darkness of an alley, a single red orb that grew out and in like a dying meteorite on the blank surface of some lightless planet. This person, this figure, reared his head out.


    ¡°Saw you talking to that other guy, saw that it didn¡¯t work¡­¡± White smoke came out where Harrogate thought his mouth-hole was but of which could not confer truth this way or that.


    ¡°Yeah. That was me.¡± Harrogate said.


    More smoke. More glowing red. Was that a bit of laughter in the back, stifled by a cough?


    ¡°Ever heard of the adult industry?¡± He asked.


    He sat in the leather chair, the whole room filled to the brim with memorabilia. ¡®Aldous Hucklefinn - Best Director MCA 1365 AL¡¯


    ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± Harrogate pointed to the golden dildo somewhere sitting on a shelf. Looking at it made him close his legs.


    ¡°Oh, that? Won it last year.¡± He said. ¡°Ever heard of Back doors on Back Forest Elves three?¡±


    ¡°N-no¡­¡± Harrogate rubbed the sweat off his forehead. Around were the large people, the nude pictures of men and women that in some capacity or another were large. As if the sliders of the divine could not decide which way or the other, that these people were given by some act of carelessness (or expensive surgery) some¡­interesting features. Blondes who looked to have three heads. Men with snakes that coiled around their knees.


    Harrogate leaned back into his chair. He felt two cushioned pillows above in the shape of -If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    He blushed.


    ¡°You m-make p-p-p-porn. Don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Shh.¡± Aldous said. ¡°I don¡¯t allow profanity here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a g-glowing cock!¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to listen, I¡¯m not going to be able to conduct my business with you. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah.¡± Harrogate said. ¡°I just don¡¯t know how I¡¯d be, you know, a good fit?¡±


    ¡°Everyones a good fit in this industry. We¡¯re the most inclusive business out there, buddy!¡±


    ¡°I just - you know.¡± He looked down. If he could have closed his legs any harder into themselves, he would have turned into a black hole. ¡°I¡¯m not¡­you know¡­well-endowed.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. How many jimmies can you fit in your butter-maker back there?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I mean. How many hot rod¡¯s can plow your black fields?¡± He asked, hands out with a ring on every finger and a flower-shirt with two buttons undone down from his neck. His black hair protruded from the gap.


    ¡°I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t take any dicks in there!¡±


    Aldous raised his pointer finger.


    ¡°No cursing. That¡¯s obscene.¡±


    ¡°S-sorry.¡± Harrogate said. ¡°I can¡¯t fit any Jimmies in me. No Johns, no Henry¡¯s either. Sorry. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m made for this line of work.¡±


    ¡°Now, hold on.¡± Aldous stood.


    ¡°I need cash, but I can¡¯t. You know¡­perform. I think I¡¯ll go collect cans or something because this is too extreme for me, you understand?¡±


    ¡°Buddy. Buddy. Buddy.¡± Aldous stood behind Harrogate and put his fat hands on his shoulders and massaged them, it was like collapsing two mountains with how hiked his body was. ¡°I know a perfect role for you. And a perfect scene. It¡¯s a type of thing where men who can¡¯t perform, can perform. Catch my drift?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Harrogate asked.


    ¡°Ever heard of B.O.C?¡±


    ¡°SHOVE THAT BIG ORC C-¡±


    ¡°No cursing on set!¡± Aldous said through the megaphone. ¡°It¡¯s obscene!¡±


    All around the crystal balls were set, with the small fairies working around the globe and capturing every angle and every possible second of it. Harrogate, there on the side of the cushioned sofa; petrified to a stand still while the orc and fair-skinned elf went at it. His body, reeled away from the two in the middle of their¡­you know.


    The elf looked across to Harrogate. Harrogate was breathless, still, eyes unmoving.


    ¡°You know, you¡¯re supposed to be jerking off right now.¡± She whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± He said.


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of your job.¡± Her legs spread high up. The orc slammed her down. It was like watching assault - it was a kind of assault. His face contorted, soured tight around his nose. He turned his head away.


    ¡°You gotta look!¡± She said. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to get paid?¡±

 2d. Dont trust the calling ads

    ¡°In this scene, you¡¯re going to step on him. Alright?¡± Cumbrick said. ¡°Your motivation is¡­he just finished robbing your purse.¡±


    The camera zoomed onto her feet, she picked them up from the sidewalk they stood on.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want me to swing my ax, or like, tackle them or anything?¡±


    ¡°No. No. You¡¯re an innocent house wife.¡± He said. ¡°Just step on him.¡±


    ¡°Sir.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s director.¡± Cumbrick said.


    ¡°Mr. Director Sir.¡± She scratched the back of her head. ¡°I¡¯ve been stepping on people all shoot. It¡¯s all I¡¯ve done, is there any way¡­you know, I could do something else?¡±


    ¡°Oh. You want to do something else?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Yes! Anything. You know, anything.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Just walk.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed, she took steps down the side walk looking left and right at the stage-help, the people who manned the crystal balls and who cajoled the fairies above to set the different sets of lights and sparkles down the set. And she just walked - down the sidewalk, with about three camera men (orb handlers, as they were) track the shot of her legs going down the street.


    The director, licking his lips. And her, reading the silent words he mouthed but dared not speak.


    ¡°Beautiful. Slender. Pale.¡± He nearly came off the little foldable chair, the hat was on the arm rest next to him and it fell off. Cumbrick didn¡¯t care, he kept himself poised forward.


    ¡°Alright. We need to have a word here.¡± She said and walked straight towards him, out of shot. Everyone, from sound to orb backed off with sucked in lips and faces of both fierce disappointed, and fierce trepidation. The director, after all, had his mouth open. His back was against the chair, eyes wide.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°What? Why¡¯d you ruin the shot?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Can I talk to you, just for a second?¡±


    She grabbed him by the arms and took him out of the room, out the set and towards a small room that was formerly a dressing place that was now an interrogation quarter. She sat him, he fell with a loud thump.


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±


    ¡°The problem is that I¡¯m not acting.¡± She said. ¡°How am I supposed to get famous off my feet?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hire you to act, Susan.¡±


    ¡°Cecile.¡±


    ¡°Sibia.¡±


    ¡°Cecile!¡±


    ¡°Seasaw. I didn¡¯t hire you to act, alright?¡± He asked. ¡°I hired you as a kind of¡­stunt woman. You¡¯re here for a couple shots and here to get paid, wasn¡¯t that the point?¡±


    ¡°So you lied?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t lie. I¡¯m paying you, if you¡¯d just let me film.¡±


    ¡°Film my feet, you mean.¡± She had her arms to her hips. ¡°You some kind of pervert?¡±


    ¡°Me? A pervert? You¡¯re calling an artiste such as myself, a pervert?¡±


    ¡°I ain¡¯t calling you an artist.¡± She said. ¡°I¡¯m calling it how I see it, and you¡¯ve got a perverts glare about you. I mean look - you¡¯re drooling.¡±


    He looked down to the spots on his pants and wiped his chin of the growing spittle.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to act, then there¡¯s no point in casting you.¡±


    ¡°You just finished taking three hours worth of film of my feet.¡± She stepped forward. ¡°You wasted my time, I expect my pay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving you your damn pay. Alright? Go take your ass out of here, go to the butcher shop you she-goat bitch.¡±


    And it was like her face just went red. She kicked him down from his chair, he fell and the wood shattered to splinters. Down on his face she went, her heavy hoof stomping him into the ground and forcing an indent into the floorboards below. She stepped on him, over and over, until the sweat grew on her.


    She huffed, retracted her sole from his mouth.


    He looked up, bloody nosed and red.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop.¡± He said.


    ¡°You fucking pervert.¡± She grabbed him by the coat.


    ¡°Wait. Wait. I didn¡¯t mean like that!¡±


    And she bent his bones in ways they shouldn¡¯t have.


    ¡°No, no, not like that!¡±


    He screamed. He snapped. He fell wheezing. When she was done, she stepped out and looked to her side and the growing crowd that surrounded the propped open door that squeaked at the hinges and went in and that¡­slow-like.


    ¡°Is everyone a fucking pervert in this town?¡± She shot her arms down. Stomped through. No one stopped her, no one even tried.

 2e. I told you not to mess with Zullywood

    Cecile broke through the doors. Which was starting to be a bad habit and one that made her lean over to the side of the frame and rub her foot. She looked up, face tight. The camera lights glared at her, three colors; red, blue, green all pointed at her. Across, set up in front of a fake dwarven house-set Harrogate sat on a couch. Next to him¡­


    An elf and orc together, going at it and making the whole fake-house and fake-couch and fake-room shake.


    ¡°You said this was a single girl scene.¡± The elf told the director who rubbed his hairy palms together. He looked over his shoulder. She passed him on the way to Harrogate, knocking down cameras orbs and megaphone sticks.


    ¡°It¡¯s not what you think, Cecile.¡± Harrogate rubbed his arms.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    He stood up, straight.


    ¡°I¡¯m acting.¡± He said, chin high up.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re acting?¡± She asked. ¡°Who are you, the pizza boy? Gardener?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s my husband.¡± The elf slapped him on the back of the head. ¡°And he has a small dick, don¡¯t you honey?¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah.¡± Harrogate rubbed his scalp.


    ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re getting paid?¡±


    ¡°Why yes, I am.¡± He said. ¡°Why do you care? Aren¡¯t you getting the big bucks?¡±


    ¡°It fell through.¡± She crossed her arms. ¡°Turns out that Cumbrick guy was a pervert. I beat his head in and snapped a couple of his limbs out of place.¡±


    They all stood up. Orc. Elf. Fairy in the director chair. Camera man. Donut-bringer-assistant. Yes-man assistant. The janitor. The janitor¡¯s dog. Everyone raised their heads like they all heard some invisible sound only their species could hear, the danger sound of a horrifying and coming doom.


    ¡°You hurt Mr. Cumbrick?¡± The orc asked.


    ¡°Oh, shit.¡± The elf said. ¡°You don¡¯t do that?¡±


    ¡°And why not?¡± Cecile asked. ¡°He kept asking for my feet.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Then you should have gave them to him.¡± Aldous said. His little golf cap fell to the side, his gold chains fluttered. His face flushed. ¡°You¡¯re friends with her, Small Simmons?¡±


    ¡°Small Simmons?¡± Cecile looked down at Harrogate.


    ¡°It¡¯s my porn name.¡± He said. ¡°But besides that, why¡¯s it matter if I know her?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re friends with her. You¡¯re friends with a person who beat up Mr. Cumbrick. That¡¯s no good. I don¡¯t want that trouble here.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯ya mean?¡± Both of them said. There was something¡­fishy in the air. And it wasn¡¯t the semen and fluids. Well, maybe it was. But it was something else. Maybe it was in the way everyone turned their faces away from them, or how they looked down at the floor when they made eye contact. Either of them, like they were both cursed and it was infectious to the touch, through the air, through a glare.


    ¡°You fucked up.¡± The orc said. ¡°Mr. Cumbrick is in cahoots with the Fairy Five.¡±


    ¡°The fairy five?¡± Ceciled asked.


    ¡°The five mafia groups of Zullywood. How do you think these things get funded? It¡¯s all money laundering.¡± The elf said.


    Aldous rubbed his forehead, wet palms against a wet face.


    ¡°Oh gosh.¡± He said. ¡°You two are screwed.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no. She¡¯s screwed.¡± Harrogate stepped away from Cecile, almost ran out the set.


    ¡°Harrogate, don¡¯t leave me.¡± SHe said. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°Nuh uh.¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯m not dealing with this again, Cecile.¡±


    He ran out the first door he saw, which lead him through a narrow hallway. The set designer room, the writers room, the snack room and finally the bathroom. The loo, really.


    ¡°Harry. Harry, please.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t Harry please me.¡± He threw down his tie, his suit jacket and his glasses. ¡°You ditched me out into a fucking curb the last time we spoke and now that you¡¯re in trouble, you¡¯ve come crawling back.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes I have.¡± She dropped down prone onto the floor and grabbed his leg, crying and hoping. ¡°I was stupid Harry, please. Help me get out of this. The mafia are gonna come for me.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He pulled his leg, her weight was too great. ¡°Get off me would ya?¡±


    ¡°Harry, please. Please. Please. I need help, we need to kill them before they kill us.¡±


    ¡°Before they kill you, and only you.¡± He said. ¡°Now get off me, this is unbecoming.¡±


    She stood, patted her pants down and pointed at him.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t help I¡¯m going to tell everyone your wife got fucked by an orc while you sat in the corner and jerked off.¡±


    His face went red.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t in the corner jerking off and that wasn¡¯t my wife.¡±


    ¡°Nobody knows that.¡± She said. ¡°I¡¯ll tell your friends from the assassin school, you know the two, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± He slapped her finger away. She brought it back.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to threaten you. I don¡¯t mean to.¡± She said. ¡°Especially when there¡¯s so much opportunity from this little quagmire.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know what quagmire means.¡±


    ¡°If we are getting chased by mafiosos, maybe we could turn it around¡­you know. Maybe we can money launder them!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works.¡± He put his hands against his eyes. ¡°Not. At. All.¡±


    And he rocked in place while she put her hands to her side. Harrogate, who she believed was crying but couldn¡¯t quite tell behind the muffled sound.


    ¡°We¡¯ll make it out rich, I promise Harry.¡± She said.


    And he kept quietly crying. Even as a toilet flushed behind them. Behind them, in one of the stalls the little figure peered its head. Two desolate eyes, a five o¡¯ clock shadow.


    Turnus.

 2f. Just put on the paper bag

    The puddles splashed outside the little window where Harrogate¡¯s beady eyes peered through, following the black boots of the half dozen suited men. Striped jackets, fat fedoras, gold belt buckles and steam that came out of their mouths even though it wasn¡¯t cold. The type of big chinned, wide brow¡¯d ape-like creatures you¡¯d find in a museum encased in ice.


    One of them stepped up. It splashed water against the window. Harrogate ducked.


    ¡°They¡¯re everyone.¡± He said. ¡°They¡¯ve got the place surrounded.¡±


    ¡°I told you.¡± Turnus got a bottle underneath his armpit and undid the top with a thump. The cap flew out, hit the wall and bounced a little to the side. Cecile tapped against the floor.


    ¡°This wouldn¡¯t have happened if you weren¡¯t such a drunk idiot.¡± Cecile put her finger against Turnus¡¯s chest.


    ¡°If you didn¡¯t mess things up back at the church I wouldn¡¯t be here. I wouldn¡¯t have - you know - killed my savior.¡±


    ¡°He can¡¯t be that much of a savior if he died to a big pussy like you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯d you say?¡± He flipped his bottle and raised it up. The liquid spilled out and he realized too late, only just about when it hit his pants. Then he shrieked and put his mouth underneath the faucet of a half-full pint of oak smelling liquor. Gold down his gullet.


    ¡°He¡¯s pathetic.¡± Cecile said. She turned to him, hands clasped. ¡°What¡¯re we going to do, Harry? The IRS is coming. The Mafia is coming. This drunk won¡¯t leave.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re both pathetic. Sweet Jenba.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention his name.¡± Turnus burped.


    ¡°Let¡¯s deal with this one at a time. Alright?¡± Harrogate said.


    They nodded their heads. Harrogate took the drink from Turnus, who made a face both confused and angry. Harrogate drank. He wiped his mouth and rubbed his chin, putting his foot above a toilet seat. The basins to the side of the room leaked with green fluid that spilled down and smelled medicinal, sanitary. The stall doors bumped against each other. Small light bugs in a transparent fixture buzzed and the steps of men grew louder.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Turnus. You were out there, what were saying. These people?¡±


    ¡°They said they were looking for a tall girl. Red hair.¡±


    ¡°That it?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Oh please tell me you two aren¡¯t leaving me again.¡± She said. ¡°I¡¯ll haunt the shit out of the both of you if I die, you know that?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t leave either. I kind of let ¡®em know I knew her.¡± He pointed with his thumb at Cecile. ¡°I said, I know that big red bitch. She burned my church down. And then they grabbed me by the collar asking where she was. Managed to give ¡®em the slip. But last I saw they were all around town. Bunch of thugs.¡±


    ¡°A big red bitch¡­¡± Harrogate paced back and forth.


    ¡°I heard you the first time.¡± Cecile said.


    Harrogate stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall, looking both ways at an empty column. On one end; the foot steps. On the other end; the wet humping of an overacting elf. And in between the elf and the orc and him, somewhere in that hall, were the half-open doors.


    ¡°They¡¯re looking for a small man by now. And they¡¯re looking for the drunk priest. And they¡¯re looking for the big red bitch.¡±


    ¡°Alright buddy, that¡¯s the third time. You don¡¯t have to keep saying it.¡± She kept a shaking grip on her ax.


    ¡°But what if-!¡± Harrogate walked up and tapped her with his finger. ¡°What if they didn¡¯t find the three of us?¡±


    Both of them turned their heads and looked. Outside of the door, Harrogate¡¯s face pointed to one particular sign that read ¡®Fitting Room¡¯. He smiled.


    They walked out of the adult studio, off into the parking lot where the carts were stuck in place and the horses tied by knots to toughs. They walked through the streets, passing the striped mafiosos that roamed the sidewalks with their lumbering hands dragged against the floor like apes on the jungle grounds.


    Oh, the mafiosos stared but none of them could quite make them out¡­and all the discernible eyes could not quite put the name to these three.


    ¡°It worked.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± Turnus asked.


    ¡°This thing is itchy.¡± Cecile said.


    Harrogate had a BDSM chained outfit around his torso, the red-ball gag right on his neckline and a leather cap covering his face. Cecile wore the dino-sex suit. A purple reptilian furry suit, where her head jutted out of the exaggerated bobble-head skull of her t-rex mouth. Turnus was dressed as priestess. The shawl went over his face. The big robes covered his chest with a wispy white dress.


    The cool draft against his exposed hairy ass-cheeks made him shiver though.


    And no one noticed them to be the wanted three, not one soul.


    But everyone sure as hell stared.

 2g. Broken deals with the devil

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll take it from here on out Harry.¡± Cecile said. She worked her fingers underneath the dinosaur mask and started ripping it off, her hair coming loose underneath the gaps of plastic like straw-textured blood in the very visceral decapitation performed. Harrogate unstrapped his leather pieces, ripping the belts off him and closing his exposed chest with his robe.


    Turnus put his hands on his ass cheeks and tried to stop the air from entering his crack. It didn¡¯t work. He got the shivers.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, Cecile.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°No, no. Hear me out Harry. We¡¯ll go assassinate each one of these mafiosos.¡± She started leaning over and acting. Again. ¡°We¡¯ll go in, pew pew. Swish swish. The blood - Oh god, all over my face. It¡¯s her, Cecile. Pew pew. Get what I¡¯m saying?¡±


    ¡°No. Not a clue.¡± Harrogate said. ¡°We¡¯re not killing anyone.¡±


    ¡°Why not Harry, they¡¯re chasing after us. We¡¯ll kill em and rip off the millions in their vaults. It¡¯ll be the perfect plan.¡±


    ¡°We wouldn¡¯t last ten seconds before they killed us brutally.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll kill ¡®em in nine.¡± Cecile said.


    Harrogate shook his head and leaned over the wall, his face towards the sidewalk where a white striped man at a street corner turned. So he turned, back in.


    ¡°There¡¯s too many of them. We couldn¡¯t kill one of them before the others got rid of us. So we¡¯re not going to try going for them.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°What are we going to do?¡± Ceciled asked.


    ¡°Hey. I feel a little cold.¡± Turnus wrapped the leather straps around his bare ass. His face went tight. ¡°And now I feel a little hot.¡±


    Harrogate walked over to him, going through the gentle flowing blankets and shirts of linen wrung underneath drying ropes. They stretched across the alley, up above the brick roofs of the little gothic-looking homes.


    Harrogate found the bottle and popped it up. He passed the flask to Turnus.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to apologize to Aldous.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re what?¡± Cecile asked.


    ¡°You heard me. It¡¯ll be easier dealing with him than everyone else. Go say sorry and be done with it, we can leave tomorrow morning and hopefully I can get paid by then.¡±


    Turnus drank, his eyes widen open as he looked from in between the two.


    ¡°I¡¯m not apologizing to that freak.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to.¡± Harrogate said. ¡°I¡¯m not going to get hunted down. I don¡¯t want to turn head around every corner waiting for the knife in my back, I lived that life already. Not again.¡±


    ¡°Harry. Harry. Harry.¡± She raised her hands. ¡°He¡¯s a pervert, Harry. The guy dreams of toes and sleeps on feet. He¡¯s a creep.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with a foot fetish. There are worse things, trust me.¡± He shivered. The elf. The orc. Him in the corner getting - nevermind. ¡°Much. Much. Worse things.¡±


    ¡°But Harry.¡± She moaned. ¡°He tried to feel my feet up.¡±


    ¡°Let him god damn massage you then. Let him take pictures. Let him paint your nails, whatever, just get him to stop hunting us down.¡± He said.


    She scratched the back of her head. Her body went in and out of the racks of clothes, a woman with a pipe leered over a balcony with the smoke of tobacco enveloped around her like a shawl. She huffed at Harrogate.


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying I just need to get him to stop the hit on us?¡± She turned to Harrogate, finger pointed.


    ¡°Y-yeah. But I don¡¯t like that look on your face.¡± He said.


    ¡°You said it. All I need to do is make sure he never. Ever, hunts us down ever again. Right?¡±


    Turnus took the bottle out of his mouth. It thumped from the suction. His eyes came about that yellow glaze, his body teetered both directions. Then his head leaned away. He pointed at Cecile.


    ¡°Oh. I don¡¯t like that look.¡± Turnus said. ¡°Why are you smiling?¡±

 2h. Never trust red heads

    ¡°Why does it have to be me?¡± Turnus asked.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re the one who got us in this mess in the first place.¡± Harrogate worked his way up the lattice, his small hands craned over the ledge and gripped hard on white balustrades. The hedges behind them, cut neatly, had a giant man sized hole through. The dogs barked. The guards slept. A fountain stirred and Harrogate was up and on the second floor. He threw down a hook anchored to the edge of the floor.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t feel right.¡± Turnus said.


    ¡°Climb.¡± Cecile pushed him. The rope went taut and up they went.


    Harrogate worked his small feet through the halls, tip toeing around, sly and catlike. He went up stairs, slid across the floor, looked both ways at crossroads. Hid behind the curtains. Watch out! The guard. He suffocated him with a quick choke hold, left his body to nap by the side of the wall. Climbing, jumping, doing circles around flag poles and ending up feet up and above.


    Turnus glugged his bottle and threw it. The glass broke.


    Cecile bumped her axe against every vase. They shattered.


    ¡°Oops.¡± They said. Oops.


    They came to the twin doors, lion¡¯s carved on both sides facing each other.


    ¡°Who goes first here?¡± Turnus asked.


    Harrogate got the door open, slightly. He let his eye in.


    ¡°Let me handle this.¡± Cecile snap kicked it, the door handle flew. The hinges whined, dangled from a single nail.


    Aldous jumped.


    ¡°Jenba on the slab. Who are you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me, Cecile.¡± She walked in. Harrogate kept his face sticking out of the door frame. Turnus burped.


    ¡°You should be dead.¡± He jumped in his bed, throwing the covers and looking for the messenger owl.


    She put her long leg in between him and the owl, flesh showing through high boots.


    ¡°Oh, we won¡¯t need that.¡± Both arms around his shoulders as she pushed him down. Her body weight against him, his indentation growing deeper and deeper inside his jello-like bed. Red curtains, red blankets, red pillows - red hair. Coming down on him, all around him.


    ¡°I just wanted to apologize, Aldous.¡± She said.


    ¡°This is a good start.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Harrogate rolled his eyes. If he rolled them any harder, they would have popped right out of his skull.


    ¡°I just want you to be comfortable, to let me show you how sorry I really am.¡± She stood. Put her heel down on the bedding next to his head. He looked to his rear, tongue out.


    ¡°Shh. Shh. Shh. Not yet.¡± She said. ¡°I need you to call off that hit first. I learned my lesson, d-daddy.¡±


    Her voice broken. Turnus kept drinking, glugging another. He stood against the wall, eyes watching and face dreading.


    Aldous went to work on the letter. She grabbed it from his hand the minute the last dot of ink was put and walked it over to the owl, hips swaying wide. Her axe (not the expensive one of course, she lost that a long time ago) dragging along the floor as she bent over to plop the letter down into the owl¡¯s mouth. It flew off.


    ¡°I gotta say, I really like your new attitude. I think like this, you and I can make movie magic.¡± He said. ¡°I-I just wanted to threaten you is all, get you to think straight. You know?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know.¡± She put her leg down again, on the table stand in front of the edge of the bed he leaned over. He looked over up to her thighs, she went strap by strap taking off her boot.


    Then stopped.


    ¡°You stopped?¡± He drooled.


    ¡°Put this on.¡± She reached behind her back with a blind fold. He smiled. She put it around his eyes.


    ¡°Ah!¡± He said. Cecile wrapped it right behind his neck.


    ¡°It¡¯ll start feeling good honey, don¡¯t you worry.¡±


    And she waved Turnus in. Turnus, slipping and falling and trying to catch himself off of the furniture. Turnus who was - dear Jenba - missing a shoe.


    He came up, in the swing of an attack of hiccups. His eyes looked around, what little vision he had left. Cecile had to grab his foot just to get it right, he yanked him forward. Then. One. Two. Three.


    Three toes went into Aldous. They did not belong to Cecile.


    Harrogate leaned forward, just about to vomit. Then he looked up, Cecile was waving to him. Both of them ran to a safe behind the wall.


    ¡°Osh yemba jour sho dairy.¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡± Cecile screamed across the hall. Harrogate put his ear against the safe and started hearing for the click of the safe knobs.


    Aldous spat out Turnus¡¯s drunken foot.


    ¡°You¡¯re so hairy!¡± He said. ¡°But that¡¯s fine. I appreciate feet of all kind. I don¡¯t discri-¡±


    They went in again. All of them were trying to hold it in. Cecile. Harrogate. Turnus most of all, whose face turned pale and whose neck bulged with the urge.


    Aldous reached for for the cover.


    ¡°I¡¯d really like to see you now!¡±


    She threw her axe past his head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± She said. Then recovered her happy-bordering-peppy-seductive tone. ¡°D-don¡¯t you ruin the surprise now!¡±


    ¡°Oh. I like you feisty.¡± He leaned back. She walked over to Turnus, whose limbs turned slack and who barely functioned now as little more than a rug sprawled across the floor. Like those defeated bears you put in your home. Though he was no bear, just defeated.


    She walked over and lifted him. Then put his loose foot down Aldous¡¯ gullet, and pressed until his face was so deep inside the bed it looked like he¡¯d sink through the floor. Aldous coughed. Cecile forced the leg deeper in.


    The safe snapped open.


    ¡°What?¡± Harrogate asked. ¡°All he has is this shitty golden trophy. The¡­Lemmy? What the fuck is a Lemmy Award? Best director?¡±


    ¡°Who was that?¡± Aldous said, buried and muffled.


    ¡°Nobody.¡± Cecile said. She turned, shushing Harrogate who stuffed the trophy in his bag.


    ¡°I gotta go.¡± She said. ¡°Like right now.¡±


    She let go of Turnus who wobbled out. Harrogate who left with his full bag like a reverse santa-claus. She turned. He grabbed her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t stay.¡± She said. Her veins bulged, she wanted to break him.


    ¡°When will we meet again?¡±


    She put a finger on his lips.


    ¡°That¡¯s up to you to decide.¡± She wanted to strangle him then and there.


    He undid his mask. She left him with her backside, her red flowing hair and her desperate gait out of the door.


    He thought it was romantic.


    She just wanted to get out before the alarms went off.

 2i. On wards to the land of elves

    Harrogate smacked the floor with his whip and made indents in the floor. The horses raised their legs and started their gallop, through the dirt road running fast past the farmers by the edge of the town. Men and women with their little sacks and baskets full of wheat, heading out from Zullywood. All of them then moved out of the lights, out of the pearly white gates and the thin-mustached twirling guards with wide and pompous royal red bottoms. Out of the opulence, out of the gated metropolis. Out from the crowded streets. Out from the golden roads, the carnival people, the mafioso. Out from that underbelly and that facade.


    They left running, around the bend and into a forest.


    ¡°How much did you pawn that thing off for?¡± Cecile asked.


    ¡°About a hundred fifty gold. Should get us through to the next down.¡±


    ¡°That it?¡± She peeked her head through the flaps.


    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±


    ¡°Guess he wasn¡¯t that impressive after all.¡±


    ¡°Or the award was meaningless. And the people. And the everything.¡± He said. ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t be so gullible, Cecile.¡±


    ¡°Me, Gullible? Never.¡± She left the doors open. Harrogate wiggled in his small seat with the straps of the horses in his hands, looking at the down trodden trees suddenly come to life. The thin sticks growing greener, the roots more colorful, the dirt a deeper and healthy black. Birds sang their happy tunes perched along the edges of green.


    ¡°Where are we going next?¡± Turnus asked. ¡°I¡¯m all outta drink.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°I hate being sober.¡± He threw the bottle out, it cracked against the floor. The horses skipped just that bit faster at the noise.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Learn to love it. You were sober most of your life, what¡¯s a little more?¡± Harrogate leaned back in his seat. ¡°We¡¯ll be Thimblewood in a bit.¡±


    ¡°Aww, seven hells. The elves?¡± Turnus said.


    ¡°Yup.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m with Turnus, do we really need to go there?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the closest town.¡±


    They both leaned back into the seats at the back, which was little more than the stuffed pillows laying by the sides of the carts. Both of them with their small nests of nut shells. The brown-brain looking walnuts that sat cracked open. A bird came in, pecking at the pile. Cecile shooe¡¯d it with her hand. Another. Another.


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll finally die.¡± Jenba knows where, but Turnus took out another bottle from behind him.


    ¡°Why do you say that?¡± Harrogate asked.


    A glug. A burp.


    ¡°You know how those elves are around humans. Around anyone, really.¡± He said. ¡°Bunch of racists.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t matter, we need the work.¡± Harrogate said.


    ¡°The work. Always work with you. Can¡¯t you stop and just appreciate not doing a god damn thing?¡±


    ¡°You gonna tell him or am I going to tell him, Cecile?¡±


    ¡°How ¡®bout neither of us talk about that?¡±


    Harrogate smiled. He hung his head low and set his body a little forward, nearly over the wooden rail seperating horse from cart. His chin rested on the divider, it made his jaw clap with each small bump in the road.


    ¡°Maybe another time then.¡± Harrogate said.


    So they wandered into the woods with the sun to their back setting down with an orange glare, the birds flying with wide wing spans a little crooked in the air, dipping their bodies in and out of the green woods. Elks looked up to the sudden noise of the ungreased wheels turn, they fled.


    An owl stepped into the cart, Turnus was at the reigns by now. He couldn¡¯t shoo it away if he tried, the fucker was too busy sleeping on the job.


    ¡°Get that thing out of here.¡± Harrogate sat on his side reading a book.


    The owl turned its head to Cecile, a whole three-sixty. It hooted once. Then, like a shit, dropped a note.


    The note had a heart on it, stamped with red ink.


    ¡°Another collectors notice?¡± Harrogate turned up and away from his book. ¡°Throw it away.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a love note.¡± Cecile said. Her eyes lit up. ¡°It says, to my love Cecile. I¡¯ll chase you to the ends of the earth. XOXO-¡±


    Harrogate started to grin. Cecile¡¯s face went flat.


    ¡°Love, Aldous.¡± She turned to Harrogate, throw the card out the back. ¡°Don¡¯t even.¡±


    And Harrogate started to laugh.