《Deadline》 Your invitation to the world of The Morrow. The servant exploded into a mess of viscera and gore, bloody red strings covering the walls, floor and ceiling of the dim room. "I am bored." The mass of gore responded to his words, time itself rewinding in front of the master of the manor, who himself sat slouched upon his armchair, resting his chin upon a pale gangly hand. His eyes watched the proceedings with utter apathy, just barely open. The blood, skin, and tendons imploded upon themselves until they snapped into the shape of an aged butler, who looked none the worse for wear. Not a drop of blood remained upon the furniture. "Perhaps it is time to craft a new story, master?" The spotless butler offered his advice with a slight bow of his waist, his monocled eyes open even less than that of his master. "Nothing comes free, Monocle." "With the creation of the new, comes the destruction of the old." "I''m not sure I can find amusement in stories anymore, Mono. No story can run contrary to the laws of the universe. Everything has a price, and every debt must be paid. The scales will always equalise..." "And honestly... wheres the fun in that?" The master stared deeply into the eyes of the still motionless butler. A hail mary question, one he knew Monocle had no place answering. His small speech had roused him from his chair, which he promptly slouched back into once realising the butler wasn''t even going to attempt the question. "I guess... I''ve known the answer for a while. One might say I knew from the beginning even." "The harder you search for something, the more it will elude you. The more you are defined by something, the more it corrupts you." "I spent my entire life seeking order. classifying and cataloguing. Making sure that one plus one always equalled two. And now I sit, a lonely old man, within the universe I only dreamed of when I was little, a perfect dimension of rules, guidelines, and normalcy." "And as I sit here, I find myself wishing for nothing more than a drop of chaos to tinge my universe. I wish for once the scales were tipped over, for the rules to be forsaken. Just for once I wish to be surprised... But alas, it is not in my heart to do so." The master slouched even further into the padded chair, almost melding into it''s form. "You really wish for such a development, master?" The butler maintained his stony disposition, only a brief question escaping his lips. "I do." The master slowly met the gaze of his servant. The sword still protruding from his heart. "Then by your will, this servant shall abide." A gurgle of blood escaped the masters mouth, a barrage of unknowable emotions flickering across his face. "A servant slaying his master, unheard of, correct? Chaotic even?" "I know you better than anyone, master. You would suppress your own thirst just to benefit the lives of the insignificant mortals you reign over. Worry no longer. I will take the choice out of your hands. I will stain my own hands with their blood so that you will not have to. Relax and drift into slumber, watch over in glee as you witness the great chaos I will spread upon this universe." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. "Farewell master." ****** A great many civilisations exist. A great many stars, and around them an even greater number of planets. The times varied, but as these mortal being slept upon that night, a scant few in every worthy civilisation unknowingly dreamt the same dream. They walked the dim halls of a defunct mansion, knowing which turn to take almost instinctually, and each found themselves opening a door to a grand room. They took their seat upon a stained armchair, and spoke a small conversation with an impeccably dressed butler. A thousand languages, and the butler spoke all of them. "A great upheaval in your lives will soon take place. 30 days from this dream you will be collected." The monocled butler maintained the same disposition in the eyes of all that seen him. "Why am I to be collected?" Each of the guests had asked, like clockwork. "I have gathered you because you represent the pinnacle that your species has to offer. Some of you are strong beyond your peers, some heroic, shining beacons among your people. Some of you are frighteningly intelligent. And some of you are evil the likes of which would make others pale." "But worry not. I do not judge a sinner worse than a saint, nor a saint greater than a sinner. I care not what atrocities you have committed, nor the amount you have saved. I do not care whether you advanced your society by years, or whether you hid your talents from the world." "The time has come for you all to move on to the greater things you all knew you were destined for. No longer will your talents waste away within your meagre worlds. Rejoice!" "No doubt the more sceptical of you are chuckling quietly to yourself even now, ready to dismiss this dream out of hand. Whether you believe me or not, I care little. That being said, when you awake, you will find a number of coins on your person. Perhaps you will have one, perhaps you will have ten. I have judged everything about you to determine how many you receive, and the quality of said coins. And yes, I meaneverything." "These coins are the only preparation I will allow you before this journey. Each will allow you to take another with you on this adventure, and the grade of the coin will determine the quality of the boon I will afford these guests, so choose your companions wisely." "I await your arrivals greatly. But for now, prepare." And with that, they all awoke. Some sceptical, some waking rigidly, some darting out of their sleep anxiously, but all of them, every single one, found themselves a few coins heavier. Chapter 2 I reached into my back pocket, taking out a pair of blue surgical gloves and pulled them back against my forearm. They slapped against my skin as they tightened around my wrist. dropping to a low squat, I took stock of the scene in front of me. Four dead, three male, one female. Two of the men bodyguards. Identical, ill-fitting suits adorned by each, coiled tube earpieces and the telltale bulge of a holstered firearm a dead giveaway. Mid 30s both. If I was a betting man I''d say ex-infantry. Trained, yes. But not for this. A cushy job after retirement if there ever was one. Unfortunately for them, fate was cruel, and I don''t have the luxury of being compassionate. The female, a secretary, judging by her attire. There''s also the fact of what was occurring between her and the target when I entered the room. She was collateral damage, an unexpected factor. Heaven''s knows the universe loves throwing curveballs. On another day, maybe even another hour, she wouldn''t have been here. The position that she was riding him meant the target couldn''t see me entering at least. I killed her quickly and painlessly. Lastly, there was the target. Name? The only thing that revealed him was the now bloody name plaque centred on his desk reading ''Sen. Rosewell''. Why someone wanted him dead? I didn''t need, want, nor was I privy to such information. I got a picture, sometimes a brief request on the method they wished used, and the deadline. This particular job came with a stipulation. Make it look like a common murder-robbery. A difficult, exasperating request. A run-of-the-mill thug wouldn''t be able to slip past the guards to kill this target, but neither would they be able to take them on if they were alerted. That being said, the guards weren''t the most attentive bunch, so people believing their incompetence wasn''t out of the question. The bodies bled out slowly, the pools of blood expanding by the second. I couldn''t use a firearm for this job. Too much noise, not to mention it''s hard to imitate an amateur with a gun. The bodies each had 5-10 stab wounds, applied post-mortem of course. Thug''s tended to go overboard, less in control of their emotions. I took the watch from the target''s hand, throwing it into a ziplock bag with the other valuables I was able to ransack, the entire office turned over. It was a nice watch, not that it mattered. All of this stuff would be incinerated later. *Bzzt* *Bzzt* A low thrum ran across my neck. The vibration of the embedded chip too deep to cause noise, but too shallow for me not to feel it. I put my hand to the beeping red light, as if checking my pulse. "Thirteen, has the bird flew the coup?" A metallic female voice welcomed me. So utterly devoid of emotion I had assumed it was an AI when I first got chipped. Thirteen was my name, and as far as I can remember I''d always been referred to as such. When children were taken to The Farm, they were tested for potential, those found fitting would be given a number, and from then on out would belong to the Numbers. Those either too old to forget their past lives, or found to have subpar potential were the worst off. Tortured ceaselessly until they either locked their earlier memories away as a way of self-preservation or were so overrun with pain their mind fragmented, which got you a one way ticket to becoming Livestock. A.k.a, doing all of the menial jobs that needed to be done on the farm, performed by the mindless, broken slaves. I was one of the lucky ones. "Confirmation. Bird is home free. Three mice followed, will that be a problem?" "... No. all is well. Return to the farm." Collateral damage was a difficult thing. Sometimes it was an issue and other times a morbid boon. The target and his secretary being literally caught with their pants down was one of those times. Smearing a dead man''s name would only add to client satisfaction, however morally corrupt it sounded. Shutting the window after my escape, I threw a brick through it, and not long later heard the distant screams of a maid. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. *Bzzt* *Bzzt* Another call? Since I can remember I''ve never been called twice in such short notice, and in my line of work unexpecteds are lethal. I made my way across the campus towards an alley, hiding myself behind a dumpster. Hesitating for a moment, I begrudgingly brought my hand up to my neck and accepted the call. "Thirteen. It''s your Father. Congratulations! Belay that last order, you''ve been bought. 14th and Franklin, 30- No, 20 minutes." As soon as I heard his voice bile rose up in my throat. The Father. Not my father, no, this man hadn''t the humanity in him to be a father. A father protected, cared for, and nurtured, and he sure as shit didn''t do any of these things. He considered himself a father to all of the ''lost children'' belonging to the Farm. He beat us until we were black and blue, torturing us if he deemed it necessary, whipping us into shape to become disposable assassins, literally. Finally, when we turned fifteen he chipped us. The last and final rite of passage into the Farm, as he called it. Bullshit. It was our slave brand, and with it, he gained absolute control over our lives. How did he acquire us? Trafficking, slave auctions, kidnapping. You name it, he was guilty of it. That was how the Farm operates after all. He didn''t take money in exchange for our services, but information. And it was from that he made his wealth. Insider trading, blackmail, extortion, whatever might be gained from the information, he would do it guiltlessly. The head farmer''s voice was tauntingly jovial, as if none of the horrid things he had done fell upon his shoulders. I suppressed my emptions and swallowed whatever had came up. I had never heard of the Head Farmer contacting Numbers, but alas, whatever he had planned, I was powerless to do anything but obey, and by the mocking tone of his voice he was well aware of this fact. "Father..." Just calling him that caused the bile I had swallowed to come back up. "I''ve just finished a delivery. I need more ti-" A horrifyingly sharp pain ran throughout my body, spreading from my neck to all points of my body, like blood was being twisted in place. Crippling over in pain, I fell to the floor, my head smashing into the dumpster. I grasped futilely for my throat, trying desperately to find some sort of respite for the pain. "Son... All the compassion I''ve showed you, giving you a life, giving you a job. And how do you repay me? Pathetic. The clock is down to 15 minutes now. You know what happens when you disappointed me, son." He took his time talking, drawling out his words, extending his pauses, accentuating ''Son''. No doubt thoroughly enjoying both the mental and physical pain he was putting me through. I couldn''t tell whether he was doing it on purpose or if it was just his southern american drawl making him take so long. I felt my skin tightening, my eyes rolled over red with bloodshot, and then, like it never happened, it was gone. It took me a few seconds to stop my body spasming from phantom pain, but eventually I gritted my teeth and stood up, leaning on the dumpster for support. It''s hard to explain the emotions that go through you, when you''re forced to address the man who took your chance at life away from you, as father. What you feel when he has a controller that gives him absolute power over you. The helplessness, the impotent rage, knowing full well you''d sacrifice your life just to give him one good punch, but knowing you''ll never get the chance at even that. If he wants you to kneel, you kneel, if he wants you to bow, you bow. Fuck. "I''ll be there... Father." I spat the word into thin air through gritted teeth. Indignance was about the only emotion I could show without being brought to my knees in pain again. It didn''t help quench my rage though. I could imagine him now, smiling his smug fucking face off, wholly enjoying my futile anger. He took pride in being able to upset us, and pleasure out of watching us squirm. Chapter 3 Dr. Everton stepped out of her car, a professional looking bodyguard opening the door to her black SUV. Without a word she moved forward towards the alley opposite her, two of the similarly dressed bodyguards moving in to flank her from the identical SUV''s both behind and in front of hers. Stopping roughly fifteen feet from the shadows cast by the buildings either side of the alley, she motioned to one of the guards, and he slid over a briefcase, which disappeared into the uncannily dark shadows. She heard the clasps of the briefcase being undone, and then once again as it shut. A few seconds later, an old, short man stepped out of the darkness, one hand clasped behind his back, and the other gripping an ornamental cane, the clacking of which reverberated abrasively through the night. His eyes were so arched as to be closed, and he had what could only be described as a shit eating grin plastered on his smug, wrinkly face. The briefcase was no where to be found. He stood barely five feet tall, and stopped just out of the shadows. He wore a traditional black kimono, equipped with a dark green hakama interspersed with white stripes. Zori sandals adorned on top of white socks which disappeared under his hakama made his steps all but silent. "My, Miss Everton, you look positively radiant tonight." He eyed her up and down, and she smiled to the best of her ability, mentally recoiling from his perverse stare. "That''s Doctor Everton, to you." She corrected, still with a forced smile. "Hoho, Of course ,of course. How could I forget. Doctor Everton, the Angel of death they call you, if I''m not mistaken?" He was provoking her, but his wretched grin only grew wider and wider. An inkling of anger flashed across her face, but she swallowed it down in the last moment, taking off her glasses and massaging the bridge of her nose. "Enough, I know of your perversion for provocation, and I won''t take the bait any longer. Does our deal still stand or not?" For the first time during the conversation, her stony visage broke, and a rare glint of worry found itself taking place upon her. She watched as the man took in her plight, his smile stretching to an almost inhuman width in response. "Why Miss Everton, I''m ashamed you would even question my legitimacy." The man looked to the skies and pouted, his lips quivering in a mock pained expression. "However... I suppose with the weight of what you''ve provided me, I would be remiss if I didn''t hold up my end of the bargain." He held eye contact with her, and she found herself only getting more nauseous by the second. Those eyes contained nothing. Endless pits of black. She wanted to throw up just thinking of this pale imitation of humanity. Utterly inhuman was how she''d describe him. "Thirteen, Seven, come meet your new master." From out of the shadows behind him walked two men. "Seven." The old man pointed to his right, gesturing to one of the men who had just came from the shadows, as if he was displaying goods from a store. She found it odd, before she remembered what she was here for in the first place, and quickly fixed her gaze upon the newcomer. He was a tall, yet overly skinny man. Black bags saddled his eyes, which themselves sank deep into his face. He wore nothing on his feet, and apart from his bland black jeans, only had on a white shirt with a grey cardigan worn overtop. He looked about mid 20''s if the 5 o''clock shadow growing on his face was anything to go by. He had long, unkempt black hair. Making eye contact with him, she almost recoiled before bracing herself. His eyes were dead, and glazed over as if he was unconscious. He radiated danger. It felt like he gave her the same look he''d give roadkill. His expression was flat, not a twitch of emotion sparked from beginning to end. Becoming slightly afraid at his wordless gaze, she returned eye contact with the old man, and saw the glint of pride on his face when he had watched her reaction to surveying the man known as Seven. "Thirteen." The old man snapped, pulling himself out of his prideful daze, and motioned towards his left, highlighting the other man who had walked out of the dark. This time he waved his hands about as if he was an overly excited hand model, opening his mouth in an emotion which somewhat resembled what we humans would call "awe". The one known to as Thirteen struck a sharp contrast with what she had seen from Seven. Barely a man even. Was he even 20? He stood a full head under the height of her bodyguards, and was only taller than her by maybe an inch, though admittedly she was wearing heels. He had scruffy brown hair, which lay haphazardly brushed back against his head. He wore, and quite charmingly, she thought, a white dress shirt and well fitting black dress pants, topped off with a nice pair of black oxfords. The suit jacket was nowhere to be found however, and it didn''t escape her notice the slight amount of soot and blood on the shirt and pants. His face was youthful, if a bit sorrowful, but didn''t hold the same unwavering, flat expression that Seven had, though it was definitely getting close. She might have even dared to call him handsome, had he not sported a sizeable horizontal gash from his hairline down to just above his eyebrow, the injury evidently recent, as the man would occasionally use his shirt sleeve to wipe the blood from getting in his eyes. He held steadfast eye contact with her throughout, however. Speaking of which, his eyes reminded her of both Seven, and to a lesser extent, the old man, but there was something else within his eyes that couldn''t be found in the other two. Not a humongous difference, but a difference none the less. What was it? Idnignance? No. Fear? Doubtful. Ah. That''s it. Hope. His eyes contained a spark of hope. What an awful quality for a slavebound assassin to have. "I''ll take seven." She nodded almost imperceptively towards the tall one. "However, I won''t take the other. Not only is he scruffy and injured, but I''m sure you''ve noticed the shimmer he carries in his eyes." Instead of agreeing or disagreeing, the old man, for the first time in the conversation, looked at her with a vaguely bewildered expression, albeit tinged with his seemingly ever present joviality. "The information I gave you is worth a hell of a lot more than an injured, defunct, slavebound barely past his growing years. My life is on the line here, I need someone I can trust to take a bullet for me. I want another. Healthy, whole, and... make them bit older." At her words, the old man''s smile crept from an inhumanely wide, ear to ear grin, all the way down to a smirk, and eventually settled on a flat expression, mirroring Seven''s, if not even deeper than his. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Somehow, this change terrified her a lot more than his usual, almost alien, smile. "Injured? Defunkt? Young? Unreliable?" He stared her down, and even from his tiny height it seemed as if he was looking down on her like a teacher would scold a student for answering a question wrong. "Just what is it, exactly, that you think I do?" "I-" A vein popped up on the old man''s head, but he stopped himself mid sentence, lowering his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose, just as she had done earlier. He breathed out a long sigh, and turned to look at the men to his sides for a brief second each, before returning to meet her eyes once again. "Seven. Thirteen. Kill me." "Wha-" Before she could speak a word in confusion, the two men were already upon the old man, who stood still, one arm on the cane, and one behind his back, meeting her gaze as he had done before. From the right of the man, the tall one known as Seven had bolted to just behind the old man, and swung at him with a soft sword that she hadn''t even seen him produce prior to this moment. His expression was as flat as it had always been, his eyes looking almost bored as they watched towards where the sword would make impact with the old mans neck. She had no doubt that killing had the same mental priority as walking to Seven. To his left, the younger one known as Thirteen had flashed to the side of him, and seemed to move even faster than Seven had. Was that due to skill... or? Thirteens left hand was strained into a claw grip, and his arm swung to make contact with the old man''s throat. His face, once again contrasted with his brethren, and even she, who had seen her fair share of death, and was a long shot from being an "innocent soul", felt the very essence of the word "rabid" emanate from him. His eyes were strained, close to popping out of his sockets, and locked unceasingly to the old man''s eyes, though the old man still looked at her, all the same. Thirteen bared his teeth ferociously, the corners of his mouth raised ever so slightly, and for just a moment she felt the same horrible, eerie feeling as when she had first saw the old man''s abnormal grin. Before she had even finished her involuntary gasp, and just centimetres before the two men''s attacks would strike the old man, they both made a short gasp, paralysed in place, and rather unceremoniously toppled over, both of their attacks falling just short of their intended target. As soon as they hit the ground, they both started spasming uncontrollably, from what she could only assume was a tremendous amount of pain. Seven lay behind the old man, but apart from his spasming body, his face was still locked in the same flat expression it had always been, leading her to wonder if he even felt any pain at all. Thirteen lay in front of the man, facing away from her, and from what she could tell, his spasms were more controlled than Seven. From her expertise she inferred that he was actively fighting against whatever was causing the pain, unlike Seven who gave in to it. Meaningless resistance, it would only serve to exasperate his condition. Knocking her out of her stupor, she noticed the old man was making his way towards her, his typical smile back in place, the cane gently clacking in rhythm. Still coming to terms with what she saw, she unwittingly took a step back, and noticed that the unforseen commotion had caused her nervous bodyguards to draw their firearms, which they inadvertently aimed at the spasming men, before correcting themselves and switched to aiming at the old man. The old man''s smile only grew wider at the upset he had caused, stopping just shy of arm''s reach of her, the pleas of her bodyguards shouting at the man to stop falling on deaf, wrinkly, ears. Straightening herself up to proper posture, she coughed once into her hands, and glared at her bodyguards until they got the message and holstered their handguns, swallowing the croak they had in their throats. The old man took his hand from behind his back and extended it, turning it upright and producing a small remote, which he gestured her to take with his eyes. Taking the device, she noticed that as soon as it left the old man''s grip, the two men on the floor stopped spasming, and dropped exhaustedly to the cobbled ground. "You asked for my best, and that is what I have provided you. Do not think my training so useless that inconsequential things such as injury, attitude, or age would affect their reliability." The old man lost a hint of his jovial demeanour at the last part of his sentence, and turned his back to her. "And least of all, Miss Everton." He accentuated her name and title. "Least of all, question their obedience. As long as you hold that remote, then order them to take a bullet, and they will do so as if you had ordered them to brew tea." As the old man walked away, Seven and Thirteen had righted themselves, and stood, wiping the soot of the cobbled ground from their faces. She noticed that on his way out he had whispered something to Thirteen, who flashed a number of undiscernable emotions, finally resting on an erratic mix of disappointment, rage, contempt and resolution. The old man disappeared into the shadows, and before long the rhythmic clacking of his cane had whispered into nothingness. Seven and Thirteen walked over to her, and dropped to one knee in tandem, their heads held low. "Seven greets Master." "Thirteen greets Master." They spoke in unison, both sounding equally dull. She took a second to watch their obedient forms, finding herself more excited with the power she had over the two men than she had expected to. She unzipped the hem of her pencil skirt enough to allow her to squat down, and grasped the chin of Thirteen, bringing him face to face with her. She played with the remote in her other hand, just enough for him to notice but not enough to look deliberate, and inched her face closer and closer to him. "Tell me, Thirteen, what did he whisper to you?" She breathed her words provocatively onto him, her eyes locked onto his lips as she twitched her own, just centimeters from his, threatening him with intimacy. "Master" Thriteen responded dryly, causing her to shudder, inhaling his words as her eyes rolled ever so slightly. "He said, ''Good job.''" Recovering from the afterglow, she returned his gaze, meeting his eyes. "And what would that refer to, little Thirteen?" Thirteen broke eye contact, and slipped out of her grasp as he brought his eyes downwards, which she mirrored, following his line of sight. From the tip of his oxfords, a small pointed blade protruded, the tip of which was laced with numerous serrated teeth. Blood coated the final inch of the blade, which steadily dripped onto the ground. With a glance, she looked over his shoulder and noticed a slight trail of blood disappear off into the shadows. She couldn''t help herself as a devilish grin spread across her face. Chapter 4 I slid back, exhausted, into the comfortable front seat of the SUV. The woman whom I had heard called Dr. Everton had just recently finished what she referred to as a ''questions and answers'' session. Whatever that meant. I had kneeled alongside my so-called compadre Seven for a good hour, whilst she asked any question she could think of regarding ourselves or the nature of our job. When she had asked Seven a specific question about who I guess I should now refer to as our ex-Father, he had attempted to answer, but halfway through the first word stuttered and keeled over in pain, grasping for his neck. The realisation that The Father had made us unable to speak about him had greatly upset Dr Everton, and she had removed herself to whisper something unintelligible to one of her suited bodyguards before returning to us, steering the questions in a different light. Between us, I and Seven had probably crumpled over in pain roughly 5 times each before she had given up trying to ask various, roundabout questions in a way that would have us speak about The Father. At first I had thought her seeking to renege on their deal, or to use us to find out any weak points The Father may have so that she could exploit him, but the way her eyes lit up as we answered her questions pertaining to ourselves had proven otherwise. Other than her first few questions, the answers to which I understood would allow her to use I and Seven to her greatest benefit, the following questions were purely for the sake of her unbridled curiosity, as far as I could tell at least. Although due to the limitations placed on us, she had only received a barebones description of our jobs, she had lit up when we had both discussed our roles in clandestine assassination and international subterfuge. She had asked Seven if we worked best in a pair, or if it was acceptable to split us up, to which he had answered, and quite rightly, "I have received training in both individual combat and reconnoissance, as well as the group variants for said skills. As for Thirteen, you would have to ask him yourself, as I have never seen nor spoken to him before today." After which he had turned to look at me, still with the deadpan expression, which I mirrored in earnest. The answer had apparently greatly appeased Dr Everton, and I could tell she was torn between hating The Father, and praising him for his foresight. I wasn''t na?ve enough not to understand that our situation was the perfect outcome for our would-be buyer, what with owning two equally skilled assassins, each perfectly capable of working in tandem with the another, yet neither had so much as seen the other before. I assumed that Seven had went through the same group training as I had, in which you were assigned a specific role, and the rotating roster had assured that each session would be taken with completely different team members, meaning that even if you had managed to form somewhat of a personal connection with your team members, you would never see them again after the training had concluded. It was an inhuman disregard for a human''s rights, but I begrudgingly admitted that it was a perfect way to allow solitary assassins to learn group work. From the look of it Seven was at least a few years older than me, so we would have entered training at different times, it truly was the first time I have seen him. She knew we could work together if necessary, but also knew that we each cared naught for the other, a card which she was more than happy to play. After all, assassins who held loyalty to anyone but their master were as good as broken. She had placed me in the front most SUV out of the three that made up her envoy, and Seven had taken the back, leaving her to the privacy of the middle car. No doubt she would keep us separated until it was necessary. I hadn''t failed to notice the chagrin of her bodyguard, when she had told him to let me sit in the front passenger seat, causing him to have to take up an awkward position in the back. What a fool. Too hung up on appearances to notice that she was doing it for his own good. She quite rightfully didn''t trust us yet, and allowing a dangerous variable to take the back seat was a recipe for disaster. I had mentally sighed when she gave the order. If I needed to take drastic measures, it was always better to be behind your obstacles. Snapping out of my daydream, I had barely registered what was happening before I lunged for the steering wheel, yanking it out of the driver''s grasp, I spun it as hard as I could towards me, which earned a pained grunt from the driver. The man''s hands fumbled, and he managed to honk the cars horn for a brief second as he tried to regain control of the wheel. The large SUV spun harshly to the left, rearing up on two wheels before the driver stepped down on the car''s brakes, slamming the car down and spinning us once again in the other direction before we came to a jarring stop. The driver looked at me with confusion, which was gradually being replaced with rage. He went to say something but the airbag beat him to it, smashing the centre console of the steering wheel into his cheek and punting his face into the headrest. His unconscious head limply fell forward, resting on the airbag. The bodyguard in the back seat seemed even more confused than the driver, and just now started to reach into his jacket for his gun. I reached back and grabbed the short end of his tie, yanking it towards me, strangling the grunt out of him. His hand flew out of his jacket, gun in tow, as I pulled the lever on the side of the chair. The bullet grazed my head, deflecting to somewhere unknown as it bounced against the bullet proof glass of the windshield. I brought down my full weight onto the back of the chair, which flew back onto the top of his knee, shattering it instantly. His choked scream was cut short as I pulled with both hands on his tie, his nose smashing against the shoulder of the seat, knocking him unconscious, a small splattering of his blood finding its way to my face. I exited the car and made my way around the back of it, keeping visual contact with what had caused the commotion in the first place. I used the boot of the car as cover as I levelled the pistol I had taken towards the unknown man''s centre mass. A man stood on the middle of the dimly lit road, eyes staring ahead. A couple of inches in front of his spotless clogs were black skid marks, which twisted and turned, leading all the way back to my car. The other two cars behind me had stopped about 10 meters out, and the back car with Seven in had swung around to block off Dr Evertons car from the disturbance. The man in the road stood as straight as an arrow, his posture and clothing identical to a victorian era British butler. His arms folded neatly in front of him, even his heels were held together, feet pointing slightly out. He had receded white hair, which left the top of his heald bald, and along with his monocle, his face which was set in an emotion of bored pomp made him look as if he really had stepped out of an 1860 manor. "It''s you..." Dr Everton had stepped around the barricade her guard set up, and walked to the front of the commotion, much to the dismay of her guards. Seven kept a constant distance of just slightly out of arms reach, following closely behind her, not displaying even a hint of shock at what had happened. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Since I had first seen him, the butlers gaze never wavered, and I had just understood that, somehow, he was constantly following Dr Everton. Even when his line of sight was blocked by my car. Unfurling himself into a deep bow the butler broke eye contact for the first time, renewing it when he has raised himself back up. "Dr Everton. The time has come. Are you prepared?" His words knocking her into action, she fumbled around in her bag and produced four metal coins. She passed two bronze coloured slips to the two bodyguards closest to her, whom I''m sure had just happened to be the meanest, most grisly looking guards in her retinue. She passed Seven a copper looking coin, and, after looking around for me, tossed me an identical one, which I caught quickly, slipping it into my pocket as I kept the gun trained on the butler. "You plus four. Two bronze and two copper, not including your silver of course. Impressive. Follow me." I wanted to do something, but the entire situation was going way over my head. I joined formation with Dr Everton. She had ordered me and Seven so that we were walking ahead of her, following the butler as he walked into the forest to the side of the road. Her suited bodyguards guarded her from behind. It was a standard box formation. "Uh... Doctor?" One of the normal bodyguards who had recovered first from the confusion had voiced his concerns towards the retreating form of Dr Everton. The butler simply snapped his fingers, after which I heard the sound of multiple bodies hitting the floor. Seven didn''t even flinch so I decided not to look back either. We walked a few hundred meters into the under brush until we came to a clearing, just past it, a sizeable school gym sat on its lonesome in the middle of the forest. As we approached the doors of the aged structure, the butler stopped and brayed his knuckles in a strange rhythm upon the double doors, which in turn were opened from the inside, behind each door a maid. Giving us a ceremonious bow, the maids welcomed us into the gym. The gym itself seemed to be completely normal, other than the fact it was smack bang in the middle of an unpopulated forest. The majority of the gym was an open space, likely for basketball or other open field sports. The far end of the gym had a number of metal foldable chairs laid out. There was already a number of people parsed about, sitting on the chairs, and most of them swung around to stare us down once we entered. It seemed like, similar to us, there was a number of groups, each avoiding the other groups, taking up a number of closely seated chairs so that they stayed together. The groups ranged from two people, all the way to a group who were seated at the very front, who numbered eight. I gave the scene a once over and other than the group of eight it seemed our group of 5 was the second largest currently here. The two maids walked us over to those currently seated, and gestured silently for us to take a seat at the back left. Seven and I chose two seats in front of where Dr Everton had chosen, cordoning her off from the other groups. Her bodyguards sat directly to the left and right of her. "It seems, unfortunately, that not all of you could make it. But alas, those of you present here, I''m sure, are more than enough to represent your home well." The butler had stood upon the stage, and spoke, facing us all. "Without doubt, you are all extremely curious with the specifics today, so without further ado." The butler bowed gently and backed up until he was off to the side of the stage. With a click of his fingers the curtains behind him parted, revealing what looked to be a large movie screen. The type you could find in any cinema. The maids from before took their time rolling in an extremely aged projector, and with a small start up sound, our attention was drawn to the screen where a clock ticked down from 5, the same way you''d see in old black and white movies. "Ladies! And! Gentlemen! Welcome to the paradise of tomorrow! My name is Charles C. Austridge and I will be your guide into the wonderful world of the Morrow." As the count down ended, we were greeted by an extremely strange sight. The movie itself reminded me of what people from the 60''s thought the future would look like. The entire thing was animated and looked like an off brand episode of the Jeffersons. "In an age long ago, there lived a powerful wizard!" The cartoon showed a comically drawn wizard, complete with crooked witch hat and all, shooting cartoon lightning out of his wooden staff. "This almighty one, by the name of Janson, had reached a level where the very laws of our universe bent to accomodate his will. Janson watched over our universe, and what he saw upset him greatly. There were so many civilisations, and yet petty constants like the speed of light made sure that the paltry distance between these species, would forever remain untravelled." The cartoon zoomed out from the wizard Janson, his face contorted into a cartoon frown, as a single tear escaped his eye. We left his house, his planet, and zoomed all the way out until we saw the galaxies themselves. "Imagine that... Worlds of people, forever believing they were alone in the universe! A travesty if I''ve ever heard one." "But..." "Fear not!" "For Janson, in his great wisdom, he spent a millenia constructing the world of the Morrow. He toiled and sweated, and finally, on the 1000th year, he opened the gates of the Morrow. The perfect paradise for all!" The cartoon showed Janson ditching his wizard robes for construction gear, and after laying a brick on some mortar he had spread, thumbed up the camera, a sparkle gleaming from his smile. "He invited swaths of people from every civilisation, and welcomed them into the gates of the Morrow. A veritable cornucopia of species! A utopia where our cosmic neighbours become our greatest friends!" A twenty-armed bipedal octopus extended a tentacle and shook hands with a large bodied Cyclops, both of them gleaming amicably. "And now, for you lucky few, we extend you an invite for the Morrow! Come and join us, hand in hand, and join the fun!" The last part was sung in a song and dance, where a number of species came on screen and performed a choreographed dance. "Welcome! To! the world! Of! The Morrow!" The projector spluttered to a stop, the black screen and utter silence from everyone in the room punctuated my already overloaded brain. Chapter 5 what on earth have I gotten myself into? I can''t make heads of tails of what is happening. My new ''master''... Is she insane? Did she set this up herself? A prank show? ... "I hope that has put all of your worries and questions to res-" "HELL NO!" A large, stout man in one of the front rows rocketed out of his seat at the butlers words. "What on earth was that? Is this a joke? You come to me in a Dream and you tell me I''ll be taken in thirty days, and then you bring me here to watch this fucking nonsense? I''d be in my right mind to smack you upside the head for making me so worried the past month." What on earth was this gentleman talking about? "Excuse me." My master spoke up, rising gently out of her seat to face the butler. "If you wouldn''t mind Sir, I do have a few questions." "Of course Dr. Everton, ask away." "It was a great presentation by the way. I''m just wondering, if this world, The Morrow, as it was called, is so nice, why did you give us these coins which you told us to prepare with?" "Excellent question, Dr. Everton." The butler cracked a tiny smile, the first emotion I''d seen him show. "Great One Janson, though his ambitions were pure, overlooked one major flaw when creating the world of The Morrow. It was his greatest trait, and also his ultimate downfall." "He gave you mortals a lot more credit than you are due." "He believed you peaceful creatures, and you proved him wrong." "It didn''t take a week for war to break out between the species. And quite frankly if you went as you are now, you would die. So I allowed you a small gift, so that you may have somewhat of a chance of survival." "Somewhat of a chance?" "Yes. Even with the amount of coins you were afforded, you will still struggle to make it out alive." "And if I refuse to go?" "Death." "Understood. Another question if I may. Why were we given different types of coins?" "Another good question. Depending on how I judged you, I offered you different tiers of coins, including different amounts. For example, Miss Jaina here." He gestured towards a small, bob-haired woman in the front, her group being the largest of all groups here. "Miss Jaina brought 7 guests, the largest group here, but other than her own coin, all of her guests have Copper coins, the lowest grade." Miss Jaina chortled at that remark, obviously not happy with his words. "A Copper coin allows you the barest of gifts. A Bronze coin allows you a comfortable amount, enough for you to be comfortable. Silver, you have a head start on the competition, enough to put you at the head of the pack. There are other coins, but none of you here today have earned that right, so speaking of it would only waste time. Speaking of the Coins, if you would each take yours out." Dr. Everton bowed towards the man and took her seat, gesturing for us all to take out our coins. "If you would give them a little flip for me please." One by one we all did it, giving our coins a little flip into the air as if we were playing heads or tails. What happened astounded me. My coin spun, and before I knew it, defied gravity and spun in space, changing before my eyes into a small corded bag. This was outside the realm of possibility. The odds of this being a well constructed prank just dropped drastically. What had just been a normal coin had transformed withing my vision. Hallucigens? Impossible, when were we dosed? Group hysteria? Possible but extremely unlikely. All of my vitals were normal, no sign of interference. Have I completely lost my mind, because that seems to be the most likely scenario right now. After we had all flipped our coins and received our bags, the butler took centre stage once more and clapped for our attention. "By all means, please accept the gifts within your bags." I reached inside the comically small copper bag I had received, and managed to only fit a single finger inside. It was probably 5 centimetres top to tail. To my dismay the only thing inside the bag was a single sheet of folded paper. I turned around just in time to see Dr. Everton and her bodyguards take out multiple items each from their bags. It''s really going to be like that, huh? Out of the corner of my eye I even saw one of Miss Jaina''s copper coin holding guests pull a small pocket knife out of his bag. Dr. Everton''s corded bag was the size of a small backpack, and from her expression I could clearly tell that the contents weighed a fair amount. She picked around inside her bag but never brought anything out of it. From the brief stint I had with her I had learned that she was a very cautious and forward thinking individual, she was probably wary of showing us the items she had received just as much as she was of showing the other groups gathered. She trusted no one present, not even her slavebound bodyguards. A smart choice, I had to admit. The chip embedded forced me into a tight corridor of possible behaviours, but it wasn''t omnipresent. From the two years I had been embedded with it, I had managed to deduce allowed and unallowed behaviours, and each job I was sent on allowed me more and more opportunities to finally find a situation in which I could free myself of this life. Originally, I did it all just for the chance at ending The Father''s life, but the perfect opportunity had presented itself not a few hours ago, and though I acted to the best of my ability, and as quick as I could, I only managed to glance him with the tip of the blade I had hid inside my boot. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Honestly? It was something I had prepared for. I knew any injuries I inflicted on him would be extremely unlikely to be fatal, so I aimed to simply hurt him as much as I possibly could, hence the serrated blade. I bet it hurt like a bitch when it ripped out of him, not that he gave it away at all. It wasn''t a hundredth of what that bastard deserved. I had aimed for his femoral artery, but a small change in his posture had settled my knife not an inch to the left of it. Make no mistake. I''d slip my chains one day, and hunt him to the end of the earths if I had to. Unfolding the slip of paper, I almost coughed from exasperation. ''Deal with the Devil: Allows you to contract a Daemon, of which you will make one (1) single deal. The deal will be no less than four times favoured towards the Daemon. Tear the paper in order to redeem your gift. Property of Thirteen.'' Psht!? Gift? Hardly. Other than my curiosity at just what a Daemon was, this so-called gift seemed useless. I am allowed to make a deal with... Whatever a Daemon is, so long as whatever I gave is four times more expensive than what I would receive. Daylight robbery. What on earth would that be useful for? I had to give four pounds of gold to get a pound of gold in return. "Seven, Thirteen, show me what you got." I turned to face her, paper slip in hand and noticed that Seven hadn''t received his bag. He hadn''t even removed his coin. "I am more impressed with you by the second, Seven." Dr. Everton smiled voraciously towards the older assassin, whose unchanging demeanour was really starting to grind my gears. She shot me a dissatisfied glare but took my paper nonetheless. She flipped Seven''s coin twice before coming to the conclusion that nothing was going to happen, though she surprisingly seemed more happy than disappointed at this fact. "So our items are ours and ours only it seems. I wonder how that mechanism works..." Her smile only grew wider. "Seven, if you would." Seven took the coin and flipped it, returning the bag he got straight back to Dr. Evertons upon receiving it. She was somewhat taken aback by how small the pouch she received was, but nonetheless retrieved a paper slip from inside, identical to the one I had gotten. "Gunthers Boasting. Increase the efficacy of an item by a set amount of 1.5x. Haha, decent. Much better than Thirteen''s at least, no offence. Here, use it for anything you deem necessary." She passed Seven''s slip of paper back to him, seemingly unimpressed with both of our gifts. Seven immediately ripped the paper, and after a second of staring in to empty space, touched his belt. The belt itself rippled, a single wave emanating throughout the leather before it came to a stop, seemingly unchanged from before. The change seemed to be music to Dr. Evertons ears, and she gave it a few touches before retreating into her thoughts, still going over her own and her bodyguards gifts. "No doubt you are all over the moon with the gifts you have received." No. Not really Mr. Butler. "Now that the gift ceremony has been concluded, if you would all make your way to the stage." He ushered us on stage, our positions matching those that we had when we were seated. "Wif all due respect, Mr. Butler, ''Av got questions." Taking a note out of Dr. Everton''s book, the moustached man spoke cordially towards the butler, which seemed to be the best way to get your questions answered. The burly man who had an outburst from before was still puffing and panting, but he and his two similarly burly guests'' queries had fallen on deaf ears. The butler seemingly intent on dodging his questions. I myself had a hundred questions I wanted to ask, but I had no doubt if I spoke out of turn that the chip would send me to the floor in a cacophony of pain. "And with all due respect to you too, Mr. Morton, but I believe all the questions you have will soon be answered." A look of confusion came over everyone present. "You see, the world of The Morrow is considerably higher in the food chain than your own world. If we were to send you there as you are now, your bodies would crumble under the pressure alone, say naught of surviving the local fauna." "These gifts of yours are not for the The Morrow, but are for surviving The Beginnings. The Beginnings being what we call the enviroment between The Morrow and your own world. Mr. Morton, you are familiar with diving, correct?" The butler cocked an eyebrow and surveyed our group. "Watcha mean? Like underwater ''divin?" Mr. Morton asked quizzically. "Precisely." "Well, am ''supposin you already know the answers to that, ''aintcha." The butler only grinned weakly in response. "So you will be aware of the necessity of a hyperbaric chamber. That is, for those of you unaware, a sealed area where divers sit upon returning from high-pressure waters, so that they don''t suffer from decompression sickness. The Beginnings operates much the same. It gradually prepares you for the atmosphere of The Morrow so that you do not immediately succumb. If you survive, you may even find yourself not immediately dying upon entering The Morrow. How fortuitous, right?" "Fear not, as you enter The Beginnings, you will come to know all that it is you need." "And when and how do we travel to this ''The Beginnings''?" Miss Jaina asked, seemingly only half content with his explanation. "No time like the present, Miss Jaina." "What does tha-" And along with a searing headache, the world went white. Only the sound of overbearing static to accompany me. Chapter 6 Cas balanced the sheathed sword sloppily in his hands, feeling the weight of it. It was deceptively heavy for such a basic looking sword, especially noticeable since the hilt and sheath were made completely out of a light coloured wood. Taking a second to stare at his reflection in the blade, Cas sheathed it once more, noticing how it looked like a basic, if smooth, plank of wood when sheathed. The blade itself followed the lead of the sheath, being as basic as possible, and was just over an inch in width, extending to a length of just over 70 centimetres. The blade was one sided and had no curve, just a single medium-sized straight blade, whose bladed side curved slightly to a point at the end. Cas felt overjoyed with his haul, settling the sword carefully into his waistband, parading himself around like a knight returning from a victorious battle. Swaggering around the village, his sword swung to and fro, making it hard to miss even if you were trying. Heh, yeah, I''ve got a sword. The village people shot him congratulatory gazes the first time around, but when he had looped around the village seven times they couldn''t even find it within themselves to humour his posturing any more, hoping instead that if they ignored him he would stop. Just as Cas was about to make his eighth trip around the village however he tripped rather spectacularly and found himself face planting unceremoniously onto the cobblestone pavement. "...Fate makes a fool of us all." Cassius mumbled dejectedly into the rough cobblestone, trying his utmost to sound wise. "Mubl... Bbbl... Rbba..." A voice interrupted Cassius'' contemplating, and he turned to look at the newcomer, his face darkening when he saw the man. A homeless geezer was staring Cassius down, his dirty and sandalled foot extended out to where Cas had tripped, toes wiggling, somehow mockingly so. The haggard gentleman locked gazes with Cassius, all the while downing a gourd of, what one could only assume was bottom of the barrel, swill alcohol. "You did this?" Cassius queried, trying his best to sound intimidating, though the fact he was laid spread eagle across the ground betrayed his posturing. "Mbbl babbl hrrel." Cas was the only one in the village who could understand the drunken beggars ramblings. "Be careful? I could hurt someone with that? Hurt someone with wha-" The old man used his hand not currently occupied to remove a sheathed straight sword from within the chest region of his tattered garments. That looks rather similar to my- Aaaand that''s my sword... "Look... friend." Cas struggled, gradually managing to right himself from his fallen state, standing upright and patting the dirt from himself. "The sword is sheathed, how can I hurt anyone? So if you''ll just-" Cas reached for the sword but the hand holding it moved it just slightly out of his way. A temper tic betrayed Cas'' fake smile, and he briefly debated jumping the old man outright. "Right, I''ve learned my lesson so-" Another failed grab. "Give!" fail. "It!" fail. "back!" fail. "Fine!" Cas stepped backwards, his chest heaving with rage. "You asked for this old man!" "ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!" Cas grabbed for the sword, his hands blurring in his eyes. Each grab countered by the old man moving the sword just slightly out of his way, infuriating Cas even further. Hitting the ground with a thud, Cas could only power through with pure willpower, his meagre stamina long since depleted. "Ya really gonna head for The Beginnings with these skills?" The old man seemed to sober up out of his stupor for a brief moment. "Oi! I was hand picked by Princess Janiel wouldn''t you know." Cas stood straight and proud, chest sticking out and only slightly heaving from exhaustion. "Hand picked?! Pei! You''re a sacrifice kid. All the men in the village drew straws and you came up short! Aint no one want this ''privilege'' son. Do you even know why the Royal family makes villages produce a bodyguard when their scions travel to The Morrow?" "... For wealth, glory and victory?" "Wealth, glory and victory... Are you mentally damaged kid? They just want more disposable bodies to protect their own. You''re less than a street rat in their eyes, best believe it." "Yeah... Well... I drew the straw, didn''t I? What else can I do but go along with it?" "You weren''t even supposed to have a choice you damn runt! You put your straw in there when the chief gave you specific permission not to... What are we gonna do with you, eh?" Cas'' posturing deflated at the old beggar''s words. "You gotta understand kid. It costs the Jannifer family an arm and a leg to invite as many guards as they do. The low-born guards that they recruit en-masse for every trip? They got a less than 50% survival rate. They reckon if they throw enough bodies at it, their kin will move onto The Morrow safely. You need to protect yourself first and foremost Cas. The Royal family cares naught for you, why should you care any for them?" The old man pushed the sheathed sword into Cassius'' grip, just in time to hear the click clack of horse hooves approaching from the distance. Sharing a worried glance at the old beggar, Cas darted off towards the town square, rounding the corner to see a majority of the village gathered. Pushing his way through the crowd, Cas dipped under the arm of a fat butcher only to come face to face with a grand sight. A ruby-encrusted all-gold horse-drawn carriage sat before him. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. A large man parted from the numerous professional looking guards that surrounded the carriage in tight formation. He moved towards the front of the gathered villagers, unfurling a large scroll before them. "Village of Lutewidge, by order of Her Majesty Queen Fenrir Jannifer, send forth your offering." Giddy with anticipation, Cas pushed himself outside the circle of villagers, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. The villagers looked towards him with pitying gazes, but none moved to see him off. "Cassius here, but you can just call me Cas. Reporting for duty!" The aging royal guard looked Cas over, head to toe, clearly not overjoyed with what he was seeing. The guard started to speak but before he got a word out, closed his eyes and sighed into his hand. "Very well. Cassius of Lutewidge, join formation." Onward! To victory, wealth and glory! Cas puffed his chest, enjoying the attention from the villagers, and made his way towards the grand carriage he would soon call his resplendent transport. Unfortunately when he got close, the royal guard held out his hand, pushing Cas back. His butt hitting the floor, Cas'' confused face looked up towards the guards, who''s weapons were half way out of their sheath, every single one of them staring at Cas in angered confusion. "You... Are you dense? Get your ass back with the others." The guard pointed harshly towards the back of the retinue, his scowl deepening even further from when he had evaluated him. There was a group of nearly twenty civilians pilled together in a weak formation, standing off behind where the swarm of royal guards stood. Each of them seemed not much different from the villagers you would find ambling around Lutewidge, they stood without any semblance of armour, and one short man didn''t even possess a weapon of any sort. Chuckling weakly in response to the guard, Cas took his place with the group, noticing that his attempts at starting conversation were met with muted apathy, each of the civilians in his group nervous to the point of tears. Well. Cas guessed it could be worse.... Right? ****** Janiel sat, enjoying the tea her guards had brewed her, Rati and Gifu waiting on her hand and foot. The area they had stopped in seemed to be the town square of one of the numerous villages and towns they had stopped off in on the way to The Beinnings. Personally, Janiel didn''t understand why her family had to go through the rigmarole and expenses involved in procuring so many peasants and paying their due through The beginnings, but her head guard Rati had assured her that the trials they would encounter on the way to The Morrow would often require sacrifices, and who else better to sacrifice than a nobody from a no-name village? Of course, she understood that all too well, but it didn''t mean she was happy with them parading her esteemed self around these filthy villages just to recruit these serfs. She''d be more than happy to wait at the portal until her guards had accrued these sacrifices, but alas, her mother had chastised her, telling her that "It''s important for us Royals to show ourselves every once in a while, our presence calms the normal folk." Psht... Janiel enjoyed Rati and Gifu going wide eyed at her impromptu impression of the Queen, only calming down once they made sure no one was in hearing distance. "Missus, you are not so much above reproach that you can mock the Queen, yes? Scions have died for less, no?" Rati reminded her, hands clasped over each other and eyes curved in forced glee. Still treating her like a newborn calf. His half-rat ears flattened against the top of the mop he called a hairstyle. "I didn''t realise I was in untrustworthy company. Would you prefer I act as if you are someone I need to keep secrets from, Rati?" Janiel almost let her expression waver, she didn''t need to be that harsh towards him, he was only doing his job of course, but she had been travelling all day, and the frustration of waiting had finally caught up with her. "My apologies missus, it is my fault that I am not powerful enough to assure our privacy, yes?" Janiel scoffed, parting her attention from the half-rat, no longer bothered about upsetting him. Looking outside of the one-way curtains of her carriage, she saw a half-wolf boy part from the crowd, meeting the Caller of her guards. "Cassius here, but you can just call me Cas. Reporting for duty!" ''You can call me Cas''... Janiel stared down her personal guards, daring them to mention the giggle she had only just barely managed to contain. Rati sat with his trademark smile, and Gifu remained expressionless, never one to speak, or even move, out of turn. The boy nodded towards her Caller, and then... Walked towards the carriage? Gifu reached for the hilt of his sword, only to let it go once the Caller knocked the boy on his ass. "Boy wants to travel in carriage? Doesn''t seem bothered about service, yes?" The half-rat chuckled, perhaps the only one in the kingdom who would speak to princess Janiel like such. "The line between courage and stupidity is as thin as sword tip." Gifu spoke up for the first time today, the shout of the coachman starting off once more their journey towards the portal. This what was it... Ludewite? Ludgewit? Regardless, this village was the last of their stops before heading towards the portal, and the anticipation of finally being able to set foot on the journey that would end in victory, wealth and glory for Janiel made her giddy with excitement, she couldn''t help herself as she pulled her sword close, staring off out of the window towards the ever present spiralling beam of light that stretched to the sky. The Morrow awaits.