So as the weeks rambled on, the princess and the merchants grew closer to fruition as well. Isaac and Craigson got some suppliers that didn’t quite measure up to the profits that would have been gained in dealing with the Eurasians.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” queried Craigson, “why did you turn down the Lieutenant? And out-right lie to do it?” Isaac put the cash from the days meager, but steady, profits back on his desk. “I’ve been doing some thinking since the night just before Ilene was attacked by Hound. I couldn’t quite sleep. I began to consider that maybe we were using her. But this was our big break too. I happened to hear her scrambling in her room around this time. Mr. Hound didn’t drag her out there. She was trying to leave. And I had no heart to stop her. It was her home, and she had a right to go there. Hound was far stealthier. I’d have stopped him and let her go. But thanks to that moldy filth of a man, she missed her chance. I still want to go back, no doubt, but I felt as though I had to make it up to her. So to take the edge off for her, I cut off the deal with Dusk. And I obviously couldn’t give them the truth.” “But,” wondered Craigson, “now we may not have enough for passage-ports.” Isaac went back to his counting. “I guess that means we’ll have to work a lot harder then.” “I must say, Isaac. You’re turning into an honorable man.” Isaac looked down while pausing to himself. Then he looked up and scolded Craigson. “Enough of this small talk. Go mop the floors or something. Without Hound, I suppose you’ll have to do for that job.” He could not help but smile as he left the room. “Aye, aye, captain.” After Craigson left, Isaac could not help but smile and feel a little good about himself for once. As the weeks went on, their skill with the play’s script grew sharper and sharper to a nigh fever-pitch of perfection. Ilene and Jake kept up their duties at the pub. They each still mutually agreed to not speak of Marlene. The carpentry needed for the stage was set up, while deliveries and supplies were managed by Isaac and Craigson. At last, opening night arrived. Live entertainment outside of the tangent street performers was rare in the run-down port-town. So ticket purchases were plentiful. A large section of the cheap, folded seating belonged to the Eurasian soldiers. They were dressed in their finest deer skins. These cloths were of the darkest shade of fur. Their hair was also finely pulled back. Isaac was so excited about the coming performance that he only gave out a worried glance to the group once. He lit the two standing torches on the stage as he addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman,” echoed the warehouse, “we will be beginning our show in five minutes. I hope you enjoy our performance tonight. Thank you all for coming.” He proceeded to the backstage behind the curtain. He looked up. The moon light through the upper-windows would give the performance the right amount of cosmic ambiance. He then looked to his crew. Their prepping area backstage was situated under some girders and catwalks at the foot of the wooden platform. Craigson was tuning his violin with twitching agitation. Isaac swiped it from his hands. “No, no, Craigson. We’re tuning it in D. Not C.” He adjusted it accordingly and just as suddenly handed it back. Craigson would not take it. Isaac was concerned. “Are you sure that you’re up for this?” Craigson put his hands over his neck. “You know how we started out, Isaac. We were abandoned at an orphanage that abandoned us to the streets. All those years of learning to play there were used over and over to peddle pennies from those nasty, ugly faces. We only survived because of the reluctant pity in people, made gross with an obligatory compulsion to help the poor boy that couldn’t even tune right. That money train went south once we were of age. When I… we got work at the palace, I was so happy that people appreciated my playing- especially the princess.” Ilene spoke from behind her changing screen. “And you haven’t lost your touch, Craigson. You’re still the greatest violinist that I’ve met. Hound may have been a beast, but he wrote a good piece that I’m sure you can improve with your talent.” “That’s just it, Isaac,” Craigson protested, “I don’t want to go back out there and have to see their faces, all ugly… just like when I was a child.” Isaac whipped the nip of Craigson’s sensitive nose. “What was that for?” The taller of the brothers rose to his short sibling. “That,” expounded Isaac unafraid, “was for acting like a child still yet. It’s a play, genius. They’ll hear your music, yes. But they’ll be watching us on the stage.” “But I’ll see them. That’s the thing. And if I get to thinking back, I’ll mess up a note and ruin everything.” “Then do this: just play behind the stage, facing away. Problem solved.” Craigson was still not convinced. His hands quivered. He was rusty and unsure of himself and Isaac knew it. “Look,” said Isaac pointing to Ilene as she emerged from the screen in her heavenly garb of white and glitter. “That girl over there loved your music. She still does.” “I sure do,” said Ilene as Jake painted some make-up on. Isaac pulled Craigson closer to his shoulder. “Now she needs your charity to get her home. The question isn’t whether that audience out there is going to be like the rough crowds from the old days. The question is: is that what you’re going to be like? Are you going to make ugly, reluctant faces when you should be helping the one who appreciates the heart and experience that you’ve put, not only into your art, but your life?” Craigson’s mind wandered back to see the little girl that danced about her throne and her whole court whenever he played the song of, ‘the gentlemen’s romp.’ It was a court of very few. But her enthusiasm in tapping to each repeated high note made it the best performance of his career. The performance to get her home would have to trump it. Craigson graciously took the violin. “I’ll face the crowd. I’ll face anything for her.” “Hey,” came a brave cry from the back row of the audience. “When’s this play going to start?” “Damn,” Isaac cursed. “Your pep talk made me lose track of time. Jake, throw my costume over me.” “Over your clothes? But you’ll get hot.” “Never mind that. It’s been starting to get a little cold again anyway. I’ll be fine.” After fumbling on Isaac’s heavenly robe that matched Ilene’s he began to rush out on the stage with hurried words upon his parting. “I’ll stall them with some kind of preamble. Touch up her make-up, adjust her wig and she’ll be fine. We’ve magic to make tonight, people. Fail me and I’ll have your leg lobbed off.” “That’s how he says good luck,” sniffed Craigson. “Everyone always said that he was the odd one. I’m going to go take my place by the stage.” Craigson left. As Jake applied the last vestige of make-up, he gazed with admiration on his handiwork. Ilene’s lips were painted with violet that popped out of her skin that was slightly colored tan about the face and hands. And her eye lids were given a matching shade of violet. Given her blonde wig that passed for being genuine as it lay over her brightly sprinkled dress, Ilene looked like the goddess indeed. “At the risk of making a boyfriend at home awful jealous,” admitted Jake with playful caution, “I’d venture to say that you look very beautiful, Princess Ilene.” Ilene grinned as she slapped a bang of her golden faux hair back. “You’re just complimenting your own skill with the make-up, Jake.” Jake snapped his head away in a mock show of wounded insult. “Figures for me. Admiring a fine young lady seems to always get me in trouble." What this alluded to killed their mirth. Ilene stepped closer to the face-fallen jester. “Before I go out there, I want you to know why I decided to let you all come back with me.” Jake sat down on a stool and listened to her. “I want you to come back so that you can give testimony at Marlene’s funeral.” Jake seemed to slightly shrink in his seat. “Me? No. No. I couldn’t. I want to preserve her honor. No one must know that we-” Ilene stopped his agitation with a caring look twinkling brighter than her glittering gown. “You don’t have to go into all that. If you truly loved her, I’d wish to hear the kind words that you’d have to say about her.” “Why do you want me to do this at her funeral, though? I don’t know if I’d be able to handle how I’d-” “Because,” interrupted Ilene, “I was the only one left in her life when she died. She’d have sporadic dealings with my parents and others, but over than that; she had no one. I want all of Pangea... no: the world to know that Marlene was the most kind, helpful, spirited, and-” “And clumsy,” Jake broke in. Ilene was soaked in a good round of snickers. “Yes. Once she dropped soup all over daddy-king himself.” Jake stopped shrinking and held himself up with staunch pride. “Why, I must be on par with royalty. For she has anointed me with that honor thrice.” When the joyful nostalgia sputtered out, Jake was sternly resolved. “I will do it, Ilene. I’ll do it for you and her.” They hugged and held on. They washed each other’s shoulders with their crying. “Thank you,” she sobbed out. “I miss her so much. And,” she lost her air for a second. “And I wish that I didn’t have to bring the news to you. How I wish that there was something that I could have done.” Jake whispered, “It’s not your fault. Don’t do that to yourself. Bad things just happen. And it’s best not to make yourself ashamed of that. At least,” he let go. “At least that’s what she told me when I was blaming myself during our final night together before my exile.” Out on the stage, Isaac was finishing his preamble. “And so, this drama will be the first play to portray Alpha alive. We will marvel at his mighty dominance over the wretched goddess. Yet keep in mind as you watch, dear friends. For tonight, you will have pity for more than just a fallen goddess, but for a starry-eyed dreamer.” “You better go out there.” Jake sucked away his tears as best he could. “I’ll be on the curtains. They are waiting for you.” Ilene exchanged one last, brief, hug before entering stage left. Craigson played the first long, haunting notes of the play. Hound had composed a most cosmic sonata. It gave musical atmosphere to a vast nothingness on the verge of creation by the god and his dear goddess. The play had many low points. Isaac could feel the grievous eyes of the audience prick his skin with each delivery of his lines. Isaac conceived of the idea for this play about a year ago. A play about the revered deity of Alpha actually had never been done before. Isaac believed that the best plays pulled in a crowd based on a collective interest. He was sure that many would consider his idea of representing the almighty on stage very interesting, as it essentially breaks the religious law of not creating images of heavenly bodies. No matter how people stood on this issue, the existence of the issue itself would make tickets sell. And he was right. Unfortunately, as he found himself in his performance he felt a twinge of fear with every spoken syllable, pause, and twitch. These micro-seconds of passive sacrilege made him worry if he bit off more than he could chew in angering the religious gentry. This stress over-powered what could have been an effective performance as he rushed through his lines like a nervous twit and not the father of all the universe. His opening line that was squeezed out indicated this by the sputtering tone of his voice. “The world began because the god and the goddess worked together. We are made one flesh so as to make one world. I now call on her loveliness to begin this work now.” He hearkened his hand out and called her. Ilene straightened her blonde wig and said a silent prayer to the actual Alpha for the favor of no one recognizing who she was. Then she entered stage left. Before even opening her lips, the audience could tell that she would be the high light of the play. The Holy Volume does not go into detail as to the goddess’s appearance. Artists usually favored forming her as an ugly serpent or demon in the shape of a woman. Ilene’s character was in every way contrary to every evil that people thought that they knew about Omega. She spoke reasonably and kindly to Alpha at every turn in the first act. “Here am I, lord. How may serve thee?” “My beloved woman,” bellowed the false god with softened murmur, “I have loved you for countless eons. Yet now, we must cast off the pleasures of our infinite domain in space and strap into a most divine work- creating the finite and the beautiful. We shall create a world and our own children for them to dwell therein. We shall call them: humanity.” Thus the first act went on. The two gave colorful descriptions of the world being formed off-stage by the will of their minds and the passion of their hearts as they gazed and gestured to the creation taking place before them. Their ‘creating’ was interesting as it was equal parts scripturally accurate with some artistic license added. For example, Ilene admired the orbs created off-stage, just as Omega did, but only from a distance. They alluded to the earth only being a pool. But it was never physically on stage. They two did not bathe in the pool as their sources did in the volume. Isaac grew flushed with ungodly disgust to think that some audience members might have expected such a scene. Craigson’s work on the violin really carried the scene. Its lofty variations in high and low tones gave off the epic and majestic quality that something like the creation of the world would evoke. The first act then ended ominously as Omega asked Alpha if they would be worshiped by their children. This was foreshadowing Omega’s wish to force worship on all the world throughout all of history. In the play, Isaac’s character gave out the same viewpoint in opposition to this. The god is great without the worship of his people. They may do so of their own thankful free will. Yet the character was to explain this with more aggression than what is commonly thought to have been used by the benevolent creator. He yelled and rejected the idea of such a foolish notion in the head of Omega. This outburst saw him stomp off stage left. Left alone, Ilene’s character gave off an interesting counter argument in the form of a soliloquy. “My heart is fatigued from hearing my lord strive against me in such a way. But my eyes are in greater pain. For since we began shaping the physical plane, the meta-physical plane begins to shine within me and I can see the pre-destined fates of our world shaping itself even now. My eyes are become salted with omniscience. I see the ages to come in every detail. The division of land, treatment of different varieties of our children, and the schism of worship are all pains that I am beholding a thousand times a second. O! The horror of the visions! My beloved and I could help our children if we can somehow twist the fates. Even if by force, our children could be safe under our thumb. This way, they cannot hurt their selves or each other. How can he not see it too? Is he ignoring it? I must convince him, or I’ll live in anguish over the world that he may bring about.” Jake let the curtain go down. Ilene and Isaac moved into position for their first scene in the second act. “It think it’s coming together marvelously,” she whispered to Isaac within the dark of the curtain. He muffled a cautious grunt in thanks, uncertain if she was correct. Isaac knew that they usually clapped after the end of an act. None of the faceless masses of the dark made a single sound. When Jake raised the curtain for act two, it opened in the middle of the climax for an argument against Alpha’s supreme will. So the first line was Alpha’s response to Omega. “So: you believe that subjecting the children to forced worship will prevent much sorrow in our future world, do you?” Omega was unsure of how strongly to press against her lover, so she hesitated in saying, “Y-yes. Surely your grace has seen the world to come.” He yelled while her guard was down. “I am Alpha! I am the omniscient omnipresence! Do not assume that I am blind to all that is and shall be!” Omega cowered from his rage. “Then,” she quivered, “surely you see the harsh realities awaiting your offspring.” Alpha drew a heavy breath and turned away from her. Then he turned hack. “Woman, I’ve weighed it all in the grand balance. If I enforce worship and paradise on everyone they’ll be safe. Except they’ll never know the heights of joys that far exceed paradise if they know not the meaning of suffering.” “Mere suffering?” Omega grew upset, gulping in angry air hysterically. “Mere suffering? My lord, they are going to hurt each other, and even kill each other! You mean to tell me that allowing this is better than unhalted serenity?” Alpha stomped his foot down. Thunder sounded a hard note. This was thanks to Jake following his cue to wave and strike a piece of metal siding to simulate thunder caused by the god’s wrath. “Only I know what is best for humanity. Only the good will have paradise at the end of their small lives. The rest will be locked in the icy depths of hell.” Omega would not back down. “But why make them go through proving such a distinction when you could let them all remain in harmonious paradise under your subjection? That is, if you really know what is best for them.” “Hold your tongue, woman! Do not presume to judge god!” Isaac’s rendition of Alpha waved his fists wildly in furious whirls. Meanwhile, Jake had a line of metal sheets stacked over cans like drums. He randomly beat about them with a stick to highlight Alpha’s rising rage. Jake then slipped some open vessels of non-flammable, clear-coated, and odorless gas that Craigson bought from an incense merchant down Inkle Lane under the curtain. Its growing vapors made the mood more haunting than ever. Craigson’s violin notes also added to this mood by hitting scratchy single notes with each snap of thunder. With the wroth words, gothic atmosphere, and hard sounds; Ilene’s Omega still refused to back down. “I created this world as much as you did. Don’t presume to tell me what is right and wrong. I am not your pawn, but your partner. How would man respond to such manipulations that you bestow upon me, if you perform them unto their daily fortune in their unborn livelihood?” With these words came more thunder and new vapors from Jake colored blue to contra the whiter vapors of Alpha. The god seemed ready to back down too, but he instead slapped her. The blow crashed the violin to the impact of a quiet halt on the edge of a fine echo. This knocked Omega back to the end of the stage where she had cowered before. During the weeks of practice, Isaac taught Ilene the art of rolling with the punches. Isaac was all for making the scene with the blow as realistic as possible. So Ilene learned how to follow the telegraph of the hand and time it so she could jump back before being hit by it. Isaac liked to joke, “You never know. This might come in handy in a fight someday.” With Omega struck down, Alpha yelled, “Enough with you, insolent wench. We are proceeding with our creations soon- just as I planned them. I shall be examining the earth below. Pray that I find you in a more subservient attitude when I return.” Alpha exited stage left. Omega wiped away the imagined blood from her unblemished mouth. Omega grimaced darkly at Alpha’s exit. “You won’t.” Down came the curtain. End of act two. Isaac sharply whispered to himself. “Damn, damn, dee-amn!” He repeated this as he lifted his robe while running to the side of the stage. Isaac made this trip to give the audience the impression that Alpha had gone a great distance between the earth and his woman. As for the motives of his cursing: “They’re hating it. They would have at least made a peep if they were invested.” Ilene’s ear followed him as she stood up. She was ready for the final act. The curtain rose. Omega stood gazing at the stars and heavens at her feet. Omega’s thoughts were sealed as she remained silent. Then she pulled out a knife that was hidden in her wide sleeve. “I don’t want my unborn children to suffer under the hands of a confused father who runs them ragged between joy and distress. With him gone, I will encamp the peace of the heavens upon them all and draw them to my will- for them all to be safe and happy. But, hark!” Footsteps in space (off-stage). “The father approaches. May the mother’s blade be swift and her soul be strong. This one rip of blood will be the first and the last and it shall paint a perfect eternity and happy infinity for all.” Alpha entered at stage left. “Now is the hour nigh for the cradle of humanity to be filled. Come, woman, that we may go about it.” Instead Omega thrusted at him. “The first thing that it shall be filled with is your corpse!” Alpha stepped out of the way. “What is this? Betrayed by the hand of my own lover?” Omega doubled back, but was poised to strike out again. “Didn’t see this coming, oh ‘Omnipotent Omnipresence?’” “We are only able to see the matters on the earth to come. As for the heavens, nothing like your filthy treachery could ever be predicted.” Omega gripped the dagger more tightly, preparing for a second strike. “It was you that was treacherous from the first. You planned to chain humanity to a life of misery. You rejected reason and compassion on my part in exchange for you own vile desire to put off responsibility for your creations. That’s all it is, is it not? You fear that you don’t have enough power to care for them all. Some god.” Thunder rumbled with each step that he made unto her. “Whereas you’d take the active approach of holding them in literal chains.” Alpha stepped dangerously close to where she could lunge out. He held out his hand. “Give me the dagger, Omega. Eternity is a long time. We can forget about it between now and then.” “Never. For you mistake the shelter that I would offer for a prison. And you mistake a true cell for free-will. Since we ultimately decided their fate between the two of us, that surely means they have none. And if you will leave them outside of our warm nurture, then you must die.” “I see that there is no way to change you insane mind. A mad goddess cannot be left to her own devices in the world to come. Especially if I cannot predict her erratic behavior. Forgive me.” Alpha bounded in place with both of his feet. This made a tremendous thud upon the stage floor. Awakened from a small sleeping spell by the impatient second thud of this cue, Jake struck the largest of the metal sidings. This resulted in the largest of all their gongs. The simulated quake that this sound emitted made Omega fall to her feet again. Alpha then tried to wrench the dagger from her hand. Alpha was slashed off by the side of his lower leg. Isaac was glad it was only rubber, though it did smart a little. Alpha still managed to get his hand on the knife and he freed it only to have it slide center stage. Omega kicked Alpha off of her. Joined in equal footing, both began to grapple. Their hands collided in attempting to over-power each other. Their struggle flew off stage left. Jake released more blue and white gas. As Craigson’s strings rose in frantic pacing, the jester then raised the background curtain to reveal an opaque screen of paper spread over the stage as a new background. The light of the torches showed the shadows of the battling figures of godhood to the wonderment of the audience. Craigson’s hustling notes reached a fever pitch in the climactic battle. Jake followed the previous instructions by Isaac to, “go wild,” on the rest of the metals sheets. Jake tossed and abused them like a soldier in the depths of battling madness- clanging and crashing thunder in every step of the battling gods. The impression that all of these effects gave was that of the kind of battle that transcended reality to white-hot levels. Alpha finally parried Omega off of him. Alpha rushed back to the main stage’s foreground. Omega’s murderous feet were behind his. He made a rolling dive for the dagger. Omega was hot on him. With the weapon in hand, he turned and stretched it right into her on-rushing path of chase- stopping not only her, but the music, and the last echo of the metal thunder. Omega had been vanquished. Adorning the implement under her arm pit, she swooned and fell to the floor. Omega lay back with her hand about her brow to give out the last lament. “I am dead. Can a goddess die? Where can she go? Heaven or hell? No. I will live on. In some other form I will live on. And in that form I shall take this world back.” Omega looked up to her killer with ultimate disdain. “This is not goodbye. I will see you again. Next time, it shall be you who falls by my hand. For now, the world is yours.” She passed her last breath out slowly. “My love and my light,” sobbed Alpha. “This shall be our last farewell. For I will assure that you do not rise again to confound my omniscient predestinations for freedom of all. But, soft, even now your reasoning’s do begin to seem to prove my words contradictory by the beat of my breath. Freedom under predestination? It maddens me to think that I may have been wrong. Maybe… but no! I must be confident in all I do. No turning back.” Alpha got up and surveyed the damaged galaxy unseen by the audience about him. “We have destroyed the asteroids we were to use for land.” The use of these asteroids being planned was mentioned in their creation scene back in act one. “Though I could create more, I shall prevent her rebirth by forming her into land masses. I shall name her after the future countries. Her legs that pursued me and sat with me shall be the lands of Ziggar and Blackston. Her arms that struck me and lovingly embraced me shall be Thundral and Brazo. Her mid-section that boiled with hate and love shall be Eurasia. And her head that directed these evils and forsook all thoughts of love shall be Pangea.” Isaac turned to the audience. Some were already getting up, sensing the intuitive ending resolution’s line. “Thus the world began after its greatest war. Hopefully this will be its last.” The curtains for the foreground closed. The applause was only a couple of polite claps. Isaac went from being the high god to a lowly mortal feeling even lower. Jake and Craigson gathered near Isaac and Ilene backstage. Everyone was happy that the play went off as well as it did. But any cries of joy were cancelled upon seeing Isaac’s sullen face. “Isaac,” asked Craigson, “what’s wrong? Everything went off perfectly. I even got every note right.” Isaac sat, downtrodden. “Not everything. They hated it for starters. They used to give my plays encores in the palace. Now they just sit and gawk at my plays as if they don’t mean anything. Maybe they don’t…” No one could make him feel better. They could only gawk in curiosity at this sadness. Isaac finally got up and ordered everyone to get dressed. "We’re going back to the pub. I don’t feel like giving a bow.” So as the crowds gathered in shuffling droves out of the warehouse, Isaac and his crew lost themselves among the masses. They made their way out uncelebrated, unbothered, and most of all: unrecognized. Only one man out of the whole house seemed to have been pleased by the play. He was leagues away on the other side of the crowd. This was Lieutenant Dusk, who was found exiting with his head held up above the smog of weary people trudging from the mediocre play. For Dusk the play was everything that he hoped that it would be and then some.
0 Comments
Ilene’s trembling died down to a mute stillness. She was set to stay in this corner for the rest of her life. It was the cruel world’s next move. The move was a knock at the door.
“Ilene?” It was Jake. “It’s been hours. It’s nearly morning. Do you want to come out?” “No,” Ilene abruptly answered. She was weary, but not so weary as to keep herself from snapping out in fear and anger. “We just want to know if you’re okay. I think me and the rest of the boys got the worst of it from that thug. I never did trust him. If you can believe it, we’re all now uglier than ever from our injuries.” Ilene voiced her contempt in response to hearing this. “I’m sure you do care. You wouldn’t want your precious princess to become damaged goods. That might get in the way of your big break.” “What?” “You heard me.” “Ilene, you can’t stay in there forever. Can’t I just come in there and talk to you?” “No,” she repeated. He sighed so quietly, that she did not hear him from her side of the door. Then he voiced his heart. “I understand that you’re scared. I get it. No one should have to go through what you went through. And I don’t blame you for wanting to leave us after we kept you from home. But I’m out here on my knees, begging that you’ll let me go back if no one else. Please. I’ve a reason beyond luxury that makes me want to go back. Mine is a reason of a broken heart. The woman I love could still be in the palace.” He spoke with such a depressed sincerity that paralleled her own sorrows, that she was moved by her heart-strings that took her to the door. The open door presented the jester with a bruised and swollen face disfigured by Hound’s beating. He was flat on his legs. He grinned through his blood smeared lips. “Told you I was on my knees.” Ilene could not help but smile too. “Come in. It’s a cold-hearted world out there.” He got up and went inside. He joined her on the edge of the bed. Once seated, he poured out his heart as if he were confessing to an Alphite priest. “My brothers and I were ejected from the palace because of my lust for one of its maids there. Yet some notion within me has me thinking that I might have loved her too. For you see, when an-” He coughed stiffly. “-article of clothing was found in my room, I was given the option of revealing who she was. They knew it had to be one of the lady-servants. For no one was permitted to breach the palace walls without an invitation. If I gave out her name, I’d be spared from expulsion and I’d only be punished with a few lashings as well as decreased pay. Whereas she was to be publicly lashed, shamed, and exiled from Pangea itself. I think it was something liken unto love that kept me from doing it. For I’ve never stuck out my neck for anyone before. How do you think I got so far in the jesting business? But I couldn’t bear the thought of ruining and humiliating her like that. So you know the rest of the story. I was banished. And so were my brothers for standing by me.” He scratched his head during the silence that the two shared. “I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t know if I did it because I loved her. Maybe I was tired of stepping on others. Maybe I felt like I deserved punishment for my vices. That’s why I want to see her sweet face again. I want to be sure about how I feel.” He became quiet again. Ilene’s sorrows were a distant island that were overshadowed by the cloud of grief from this story. “I mean, I eventually stopped thinking about her over the years. But then I met you. In convenient concordance with Isaac’s plan, I knew that I could be reunited with her. And I was surprised by how much the prospect excited my very soul. If nothing else, I’d like to resolve what my feelings for her really are: love or lust. But your denial of our return is based on Isaac’s dishonest principles alone. There is the block in my heart’s desire. I just thought you’d like to know what you’re cutting me off from. Possibly true love, if anything in life can be so true…” Ilene choked out, “What was her name?” “I’ve tried to keep it secret, even from my comrades. I’d do anything to keep her honor safe.” “Tell me. I won’t say a word to anyone.” “Okay. But, please don’t repeat it. It was Marlene. I believe she was one of your primary maids, yes?” Ilene got off the bed and retreated to the window. “I’m afraid I can’t let you see her again, Jake.” Jake got up to make her understand. “Please, Ilene. I don’t care if I live in that palace again. You could just arrange a secret meeting for us. I just wish to know how she has been getting along.” “I just can’t do it,” exploded Ilene while slamming her palms on the dusty window sill. Jake scoffed, “You can’t be that mad at us. You won’t even help an aging old boy see his sweetheart again. What excuse could there be for such heartlessness? It’s not like she is dead is she?” He beheld Ilene’s reflection. The dust particles fluttered around like lost bugs. Her face was drenched in tears. Her mouth was blubbering with sobs. Before Jake knew it, his reflection matched hers. “Is she?” Nothing. “Is she??” Still nothing. “Please, Ilene,” he moaned as he clawed his fingers over his face. He tried to slash away each tear into nothing. “I was just joking,” he whispered with a sob. “Tell me the truth. Why can’t she see me? Tell me anything. Tell me that she forgot me. Tell me she is happy with another. Tell me that she hates me! Just don’t tell me that she’s-” Ilene’s tears stopped long before his. “It was the Eurasian soldiers,” she reported coldly. “They got her during the wedding party. Empress Lida killed her because I wouldn’t join her in her plans for conquest. Marlene is dead because of me.” She wouldn’t leave the window sill, even long after he left. Jake sloppily made his way down the steps. He motioned his view to see Isaac and Craigson sitting at the bar. Isaac had a wet towel wrapped, dripping, around his neck. Craigson had such a dabbed rag over his sprained arm’s ache. “Well?” asked Craigson. Jake’s lips were drooping with grief as well as pain. He rubbed at the end of his skin-ripped bruises. “I don’t think she’s coming down, boys,” he murmured regretfully, “I still can't believe it...” The weight of this statement did not fully hit until Ilene appeared behind Jake in full attire. “I wouldn’t say that,” she chirped in with surprisingly happy joy on her smile. “I thank you all for the pains you had to endure to protect me. And so, with that,” she took in a soothing breath with closed eyes. “I’ve decided to let you all return to the palace with me. I’ll see to it that your old positions are restored.” Isaac and Craigson would have hopped and shouted for joy had their aches not suppressed them into keeping their seats. So they were contented to thank her with applause while loudly repeating, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” When the jubilation subsided, Craigson’s penchant for the curious shined through. “But, Ilene, our saving you from that brute can’t be the only reason that you’ve changed your mind. What was it?” Isaac slapped gently into Craigson’s wounded arm. “Silence, knave. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Lest it bite.” Ilene knowingly looked at Jake, on the verge of recovering his wayward tears. “I have my reasons,” she finally answered. “Okay, troops,” blustered Isaac as he hobbled happily to his feet. “Since we’ve now rid ourselves of the traitor in our midst and have become more united than ever: I believe that it’s time we proceeded on with our original plans. Since Hound is out, I’ll join you on the search for clients, Craigson. Jake, Ilene: you’ll both have to stay here and run the place. We’ll meet at the warehouse tonight at 6PM and practice for the play. All clear?” A customer walked in before they could gladly agree. “Excuse me,” said the middle-aged stranger. “I’m unclear as to whether you folks are open or not.” Isaac then said, “Very well, sir. Our best will be provided for you. For now, my companion and I must disperse.” Ilene and Jake took the man’s order after Isaac and Craigson were on their way. Before going on, Isaac had to stop Craigson. “Wait,” he said with a block to Craigson’s path. “I forgot the you-know-what again.” He turned the ‘closed’ sign back to ‘open.’ When he turned around, he saw Miles standing by his store. “We’re still here,” yelled Isaac with triumphant glee. Then, with a mocking tip of his hat and a flourish of his cape, Isaac went down the streets with Craigson past the gaze of the scornful Miles. Ilene and Jake worked in the kitchen as they always did. They spoke not a word about Marlene to each other. Jake did not even so much as manage a note for a whistling tune. Thankfully, the stifling quiet was broken by Jake occasionally going out into the lounge and taking orders from customers. He gave the order to Ilene and brought the finished food out with little fanfare. Isaac and Craigson journeyed the bustling streets in search of clients. They went to every business that they could stop at. Most kicked them out. They also had ads for their play printed in the Daily Pamphlet. After this, Isaac began to talk frankly with Craigson. “You do know what Mr. Hound being banished means, don’t you?” Craigson cracked his neck in understanding. “Aye. Someone will need to provide the musical accompaniment.” “Are you up for it? I know how you feel about playing for non-royalty.” Craigson rubbed his sore neck. “Give me time to think about it. These sudden changes are a lot to take in.” “Of course.” They wandered on through the crowds of Mcferis street. They had their 9 AM meeting at the Eurasian base to honor. “Maybe, Ilene was right,” cautioned Craigson as they neared the intimidating walls of foreign ground that doubled the size of a city-square. "Maybe it is too much of a risk to deal with Eurasia. What do you think, Isaac?” Isaac did not answer as he walked closer to the main gate as if he didn’t hear Craigson. “Isaac?” Isaac approached the imposing guards. They were girded with their large shields and larger spears and beige tunics. Isaac walked up to them with nary a hesitation. Craigson lopped nervously behind. “Lieutenant Dusk has invited us for 9 AM,” said Isaac with stern assurance. On the other side of the gate, another visitor was being escorted in. His escort gave brutish hospitality. Isaac saw him from across the yard of soldiers marching their drills and practicing with the precision of their swords and arrows. The guards locked both of the man’s arms as the prisoner tried to fling himself out of their hold. Isaac and Craigson were shocked to see who the other guest was when they passed by him. It was Mr. Hound. The fresh morning light made the bruises he endured the night before terribly visible. His lost hat meant that his normally covered face was naked with pulpy swells and dirty looks all about the surface of his eyes. And his mouth flashed snarling teeth. Some of them were gone. One tooth was hanging by a thread between the bite of his lips. “What’s Hound doing here?” openly asked Craigson. One of the guards roughly hanging on to the raging Hound explained, “This lunatic has been stalking the outside of the gate all night and all morning, insisting that he enter to see the Lieutenant. He claims that he knows him. We finally got tired of him so we decided to let him in, but not without a good beating for his insolence.” Upon saying this, the guard flogged Hound about the neck with the butt of his knife. Through his pain, Hound pointed to the merchants and railed, “It’s them! They have her! It’s them!” Hound was dragged away to another part of the base before he could continue. The merchant’s own guard patted them along. “Sorry you had to see such a vulgar sight, gentlemen. This way.” They went within the base’s compound. They journeyed through a series of torch-lit hallways. They passed through a large hall with the Eurasian mark of repeating patterns found among the pillars confounding the whole of the room. “How does one not get lost in such a dizzily designed room?” asked Isaac before bumping his head into one of the pillars. The great hall was finally crossed as they were brought into a comparatively smaller room that acted as an office for Lieutenant Dusk. The window-less room of rough granite had parallel shelves, a great spear adorned on the back wall, and a desk occupied by the Lieutenant. No longer cold out, he did not have his white wrap on. This revealed that the man himself was not as muscular as perceived, but had a slender build. He was still great in height and filled his deer-skinned tunic like a tall drink of intimidation to sedate any foe. He was working over his table with a fan that he waved over his head to help him concentrate on a distressing report that he had to write for his empress. He put the fan down and welcomed his guests. “Just in time,” he gleamed, “Now let’s get down to business. I was admiring your warehouse’s property on the way back and I believe that we can store one-fourth of a legion’s weapons within. For that, we’d be willing to pay-” Isaac put out a dismissing arm. “I apologize for interrupting, Lieutenant, but my brother and I came here with something to say.” Dusk tightened his manners. “Then by all means, say it. We have business to get on with.” Craigson peered curiously at Isaac. The head merchant exchanged him a look to assure him that he knew what he was doing. “Your honor,” Isaac began with a well-hidden gulp, “it has come to our attention that we’re unable to supply your weapons for the time.” Dusk’s voice grew grim. “Is that so?” Isaac stood firmly over his poor foundation of knees beseeching mercy. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. We've gotten many clients recently. Many of them will pay very well. I’ve done the numbers and I’ve discovered that it’d be disadvantageous to use your supplies over our other clients, financially speaking of course.” Before Craigson could process what was said in time to say that this was not true, Dusk walked close to Isaac. Craigson slid behind his brother who was keeping his foot from the edge of backing down. “These new clients,” questioned the man, “they wouldn’t happen to be of Pangean ancestry, would they?” “I don’t discriminate, sir. I just worry about who can meet my rates.” Dusk reeled Isaac in by the collar of his cape. “And isn’t it convenient that the Pangeans think that they can simply buy this world’s resources over Alpha's chosen people? As for you, how dare you waste my time! If this embassy were not on foreign soil I’d have you executed for breaking your dealings with me!” Dusk dropped the fearful Isaac to the floor. “Guards, take these filthy merchants from my sight.” Isaac was then scooped up by the guards and rudely shoved out. Isaac got the last word in before his abrupt exit- a questioning one. “Will I still see you and your men at the premier of my play?” His answer was not given as the door was slammed. Alone again, Dusk sat back at his desk. He fluttered the fan softly over his face. So hot. He planted the fan over his face in disgust of all that he has seen of the world. The door opened again. He slapped the fan back down. “What is it now?” The guards flopped Hound to the foot of his desk. “This vagabond claims to know where we can find the princess we’ve been looking for. We had to work him over to make sure he wasn’t a spy for Pangea.” Hound got up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. His eyes bulged into the cool skepticism squinting from the brow of Dusk. “I might know where the little brat is- depending on how much that reward is.” Dusk crossed his arms. Lida taught him everything regarding negotiation. “You’re one of those merchants, are you not?” Hound brazenly sat one of his legs atop Dusk’s desk. “Not quite. That was just a temporary position. My job before that ended after some of your boys sank the Pangea ship that I was working on.” Dusk walked around the table to size up this possible adversary or ally. “So you’re of Pangean birth?” “Pangean born, raised abroad by my sea-legged old-man. You’d be surprised how many brothels you can find in even a Pangean port he used to say to me whenever I asked about mommy. He took up every mariner job out there: from trader, to smuggler, to the Pangean navy itself. After so many years taped to the blue yonder, I’m very sick of it. I think it’s time I got my feet on dry land for a living.” “And,” Dusk asked sternly with investigation, “you're absolutely comfortable with betraying your nation of birth for monetary gain?” Now Hound was crossing his arms. “Don’t see why that would matter to you. You want the girl don’t you? I’ll lead you right to her front door just before lunch time.” Dusk halted Hound’s assertions with hardened words. “Eurasian culture does not recognize money as the final absolute in life. Our values are measured by the virtue of the divine Alpha and not the lusts of this world. So when I see one who has no reason to turn against his own based on nothing but money, I find it suspect. So do enlighten on a deeper reason for your casually traitorous acts. You would hate to see what would happen if you were planning on crossing me as you do your friends.” He uncrossed his arms and clenched his fists. Hound speared a finger forward as he burst out his anger. “They are not my friends. Friends… please.” He winced at the idea of the notion. “A fancy word that cowards use as they're huddled together against the rest of the world, if you ask me.” “A fine claim. Perhaps something more material could convince me.” Hound reached into his pocket. “Very well.” The guards laid their hands on their swords, half-unsheathed. “Make another move and we’ll bury you where you stand,” one ordered with ferocity. Dusk put his hands confidently behind his back. “Please, gentlemen. I hardly believe that he has come all this way to make his final resting place in my meager office. Let him proceed.” Hound tauntingly asked, “Kind of jumpy aren’t they?” Dusk did not reply. Hound pulled out a medal- a Pangean medal of valor. “For a Lieutenant,” said Hound while twirling the bauble about before putting it on the table, “I’ve yet to see any of these pinned on you. Consider this the first one that you’ve earned.” Dusk picked up the medal to examine it. “We Eurasians do not recognize the childish notion of medals. Each position is earned based on skill, education, and merit.” He was done examining the medal. “Where did you get this?” Hound smiled while showing more teeth than usual. “Peeled it off my C.O.’s body right after I killed him.” Dusk fingered the medal some more as he stared into those grimy teeth. “After that shipwreck that I have to thank the dear empress for, Captain Crock and I were the only ones left. We grabbed on to a weapon's case. But it couldn’t hold us both up. Desperate to live into his twilight years, Crock beat me off. Then he picked up a pistol from the case and pointed it at me. Told me to back off. 'This is my raft,’ he barked. Years I’ve spent being barked at by him and other Pangean C.O.s like him. The last order that I could take from one, especially him, was the order to die. I swam off, and found my own weapon’s case. A musket. I was just far enough that he couldn’t see me load it. When I drifted close enough, I fired before he could see that I was armed. The powder must have hit his collection of pins. Because this medal floated right toward me as if it were a dog submitting to its new master.” Dusk was not impressed. “What does this prove? That you’re as ruthless in matters of blood as well as matters of trust?” Hound shook his head. It seemed that his grin couldn’t stop growing. “You don’t get it. I could’ve let myself float to safety and forget about Crock. I did what I did to Crock not to survive, but out of pleasure. Because I hate the Pangeans with just as much passion as you- maybe even more.” Dusk still did not trust him. But the sincerity in his hatred of Pangea satisfied him for the moment. Dusk waved a signal at his guards. “Leave us, men.” The door was shut. “So? What are we waiting for? You know where they are. It’s obvious that the woman in the cloak is the princess. Let’s go!” Dusk eyed the spear that he kept on the wall. “Don’t be foolish, Mr. Hound. I’ve always known.” “Then why not act now?” Dusk picked up the spear. “You seem to hold a special place of hatred for this particular girl.” Hound backed off. “Let’s just say that she showed me that the Pangean women are just as scornful as the men.” “I’m sure that the royal family would’ve rewarded you for her safe return. How else could she have escaped the giant?” Hound clenched up. “Trust me. I’m your confirmation. The Pangeans are scum. Never deal with them. And drop them when you can. So why aren’t we doing some dropping?” Dusk began practicing with his spear away from Hound. “As a boy, I used to go fishing with this spear at a stream outside my home. Father taught me an ancient Eurasian proverb. ‘Don’t go after only one fish. Let one live, lay out some food, and soon: many will gather. Then, you’ll have the entire stream under your net.’ I’ll soon have the entire net over not only Ilene, but the whole of Pangea itself. There’s a war coming. And I’ve a means to make sure that none of the other peoples of the world will even consider siding with Pangea. On that day, money will be meaningless and only Alpha’s righteous people will be the voice of light to be heard. So it was written. So shall it be.” Dusk whipped the spear over his head and slammed it back to its post on the wall. Hound pinned the medal to his shirt. "Whatever happens, I want to make sure that I have my reward, as well as the first shot at her throat. Also, I’m going to need a new hat." Getting some sandwiches from a nearby vending cart and eating on the sidewalk's edge of the street curb afterwards was done quickly, quietly, and without an iota of cheer spoken by any among group. Ilene still held the bitterness of her words towards Isaac fiercely beating hotly in her heart. They returned to the warehouse and they numbly exchanged wooden dialogue to each other for the sake of learning to recall the script’s lines and beats in this specific area of hollow echo.
‘“Verily I say unto thee, Omega,”’ Isaac mouthed dryly, ‘“Today thou shalt fall for thy betrayal.”’ With a yawn, Ilene read, ‘“Thou mayest bring me down to the depths, but your children of creation will stand upon my shoulders. And I will hold them up until, one day, they are strong enough to defeat even you. Then I shall rise again.”’ Before saying his last line, Isaac quickly suggested that they wrap up practice and get to work on sweeping up the place. “Aw, come on, Isaac. It’s getting late.” “We’re doing this Jake. Ilene may not let us into the court, but I’ll be damned if I let the money in this place slip away.” With that, Isaac said his last line and monologue. ‘“With those blasphemous words, I cast thee asunder.”’ Isaac pointed his finger to signify Alpha’s cosmic burst of energy that destroyed Omega. Ilene didn’t even move in the face of signified death to Isaac’s visible contempt squinting from his face. ‘“Now she is gone. She was the great love and hate of my life. I hope, yea, even God can hope, that humanity will be made up of the best of her to thrive, and not the worst of her to die.’” They worked on sweeping afterwards with little ceremony in the transition. By the end of this late hour’s labor, they shuffled home. On the way, Ilene spotted a patch of white fur striding from the print shop of the Daily Pamphlet. Seeing Dusk linger closer gave Ilene a fear that suspends one motionless Dusk waved knowingly at his former inn-keeper. Wanting to distract him from Ilene, Isaac fought against suspicion by wishing Dusk a good evening and pulling him into conversation. “Good evening yourself.” “How fairs the search?” “Fair, but still unfinished.” “What were you doing in the print shop?” “Putting out a notice on the criminal. Further information needs to come about, but we should have it by the end of the month. By the way,” he leaned towards Isaac confidentially, “would you do me a favor, Isaac?” “Certainly.” “There is a rumor from Pangea that Eurasia is holding the princess, Ilene, hostage.” “My…” gulp, “word! I thought she was to marry Prince Jacques.” “She was. But, she ran away during the ceremonies. Some men tried to stop her, but she commanded her soldiers to kill the emperor and his family. Only our empress is left to lead us.” “Good Alpha in the sky! It’s the end of an era,” Isaac croaked in a way that even Ilene could tell was fake. For an actor, he was spectacularly terrible at lying with his feelings. Isaac carried on. “How could she do this?” “We don’t know. But her family is using this as an excuse for war, claiming that we’re holding her captive. There have already been naval skirmishes about the sea.” “So she’s the one you are searching for.” “My. My,” said Dusk, 'impressed,' “You’re a clever man, I must say. I didn’t mean to connect the two subjects together. But, yes, you’re correct. We believe her to be hiding in this city since it was the closest to Eurasia during the time of its routine orbit. If we can only capture her, we’ll promptly bring her back to Pangea to dispel the rumors. Hopefully, that godless nation does the right thing for once and puts her on trial for her actions. I need not mention that there is a substantial reward for anyone that can help us.” Ilene did not like how lustily each man’s eyes widened at this. Isaac tried to hold up his weighted down words. “I… will gladly tell others the true story should anyone tell me the contrary.” “I thank you, dear Isaac. I know that you are not obligated to take sides. The orbs have been neutral territory since they have been listed as trading posts. But it’s nice to see one of its citizens standing by us in our time of need. I hope we find more like you.” “Should I see something, is there somewhere else in town that I may find you?” “Aye. There is a Eurasian base down town by Mcferis Street. We couldn’t access it during the winter’s long tread. By the way, I must be returning there.” Before a turning step could begin, Isaac halted it. “Wait. Before you go, I was just curious. You said you needed more information about the escaped princess before the press talks about her. What is it? Why not fight the lies by having the full story given out now? “ “Your answer is equal parts complicated and classified,” Dusk said with a threatening smile. “Don’t worry. Things will be brought to light. I will say one good thing about this mess: the empress’s rise to power has allowed our people to engage in expanding our trading, though it is hard to store all our exports at the base.” Without even a turn to Ilene, Isaac bounced to this new prospect. “Fortune of fortunes! We have recently purchased a building for the play I invited you to. Perhaps we could work out a deal for our supplying your resources?” “Splendid. You can come to the base tomorrow morning at 9 AM, and we can discuss it further. I’m most lucky to have met such an agreeable business man in these times of equal portions of growth and danger for our nation.” Isaac cordially tipped his hat to Dusk in flattered adoration. “Also,” asked Dusk, “who is your dear maid there?” He cocked his head to Ilene at the back of the pack. “What was her name again?” “Mara,” blurted Jake. “Her name is Mara,” he repeated with a forced cooling of his tone. “Is she still afflicted with that sickness? What was it? The flu?” Craigson joined in, “Yes. She’s still got a touch of it.” “I must say that she must be improving if she is well enough to walk about. There’s surely no reason for her to cover her face. I despise needless veils, even if I understand their necessity at times.” Ilene knew that she had to speak or die. She crumbled her voice. “Thank you, sir. But I've been left quite hideous from past experiences. I hate to reveal myself in public. My mother taught me to be modest in such matters. It’s awkward to have such values questioned. So if you don’t mind…” “Hideous? I thought you had a flu, not leprosy.” “It’s just that the flu has left her red and swollen. Congestion and all that. Now we don’t mean to keep you from the base, and we must be off ourselves. Much to do.” “Very well. Farewell.” Dusk departed around the corner. After waiting to see that he wasn’t turning back, Ilene let out victorious relief. “I believe that thanks are in order,” Isaac suggested. “For what? Pressing your advantages with manipulation?” Ilene huffed out, angry at the continued dealings between her hunters and protectors. “Get used to the ingratitude,” advised Hound to a disappointed Isaac. “She assumes that it’s her right and privilege to be pampered and protected- never mind the sacrifices men like us make for her.” “You’re right, Hound," agreed Isaac, "And that’s not the way the world works.” Ilene stopped in front of the pub. So did everyone else. Miles and his mates had been there. The boarded window was bashed asunder again. Inside, all of the drinks and food were splattered and mashed, encompassing like an overly colorful new carpet flooring. On the door was written in black paint: Whoresons. “I’ll get the mop,” grunted Hound as Isaac slapped his hat to the ground while hanging an evil eye over the smirk of Miles taking in the sight from his own pub down the corner. Running on steam-powered yawns, some of the mess was cleared. Once the slosh of the glasses, drinks, and food were discarded; everyone slopped their way into their respective beds of misery. The day was supposed to be about profit- not loss. Ilene could not sleep. She was too busy. She was preoccupied with keeping herself awake long enough to make her ears believe that everyone else was asleep. She fumbled about in her bed. She splashed more water on her face more than equal to the amount that she used each morning during her long stay. By the still hours of the A.M., Ilene developed bulging red eyes whose upper-lids were gripping desperately to the top of her head to keep from falling asleep. The sopping bulk of the bags under her eyes were pulling against this force with much vigor. By this time, the place was at its most quiet. No creaking or movement could be heard, nor shuffling outside her door. She had faith in the word of her ears that no one was up. She took up the scarlet cloak and crept down stairs, out the door into the cobbled streets. No one was out in the misty gloom of the night. It was like a ghost town that even ghosts wouldn’t visit. Fear of her surroundings stroked about her. Staying on the sidewalks made her cautious of possible attackers emerging from the dark. So she tried walking in the middle of the dead-silent street. It was muddily rippled by the many carts that tracked their way through it each day. The residue of old trash and food was crowding into the pointy shoes that Isaac gave her. It mortified her, a lady of high standards, cavorting about such lowly waste. Yet she stuck with this path so she could have extra time to see a criminal and run away. Unfortunately for the lack of the girl’s street wisdom, this also made her an easier target to follow. A dusky shade trailed after her, content that his prize would soon be his. Finally, Ilene made it to her destination at the end of the street. It was a half-circle of sidewalk laden parallel to a large railing. Jake told Ilene about this. This was a popular spot for recreation back in the day. Many would lounge about, eat, and play at the grassy park on the other side of the street. Ilene saw that it was overgrown with bulging weeds. Originally, the main attraction was a view of the skyline while in orbit from the rails. One could see nations, seas, and landscapes closer than ever. The novelty wore out after a few years and not many frequented the park anymore due to everyone being preoccupied with work or the less profitable labor of trying to find work. Ilene was not here for fun either. Looking through the rusted railing, the open sky greeted her with an on-coming cloud that splashed through the rail and into her face. The source of the mist lining the streets was evident. When past the nebulous, Ilene could see her country below. It was heart-hugging joy to see her home laid out before her again. The rising spires were glimmering in the light of the Torch of Truth adorned on the top of the great Ziggurat. It was the highest tower in all the great cities of the Pangean kingdom world-wide. They were ingeniously placed inches below the direct route of each orb to work with trade more easily without needless ship meetings out at sea. The Ziggurats were part of what made Pangea a worldly might in the economics among all other decaying nations. Ilene hastily calculated that the orb was on-point over the top of the Ziggurat. All she had to do was hurry back, hijack the pulley platform at the right moment, and she’d be home. She sprinted through the way she came. When she got to the pulley platform in the merchant’s backyard, someone was waiting in the darkness of the mists. His form was instantly recognized. “Hound?! What are you doing here?” Hound was standing on the center of the platform. His smile was touching his hat’s brim. “Nice night for a stroll, isn’t it? Did you know that from the railing down the street, you can see that we’re directly above Pangea? Why, you could get off right now if you wanted- nary a goodbye.” His horribly chunk teeth seemed to brighten with his rising grin. Ilene stepped back and defensively whispered a demand. “You’re not stopping me, Hound.” Hound picked up the musket from his first adventure with Ilene. Whether he had left it outside or kept it in his room since the incident was ambiguous to the princess. He looked at the weapon. “You know, I think that I’ll put this over the fireplace as a place of honor when I move to my new abode in the palace with you.” Ilene stamped the fertile ground. “What are you talking about? You’re not coming with me!” Hound’s smile slowly evaporated a little. “That all depends on you, Ilene. You get one or the other. Two simple little options for an all too simple little girl. The first is that you let me escape with you. I get to present you to your family and you will recommend rewarding modest me by letting me marry you. A leisurely lifestyle is the least that a hero like me deserves.” Hound glided to Ilene as he smoothed his arm around her hips while stroking the naked flesh of her skull. “Not to mention the... comfortable nights that we’ll be able to have together.” Livid with discomfort, she squirmed her way out of his lusty grasp, mostly because he let her go to tell her the second option. “If that idea doesn’t thrill you then, please consider the second option: I stop you. I call out and wake the merchants up. This Hound may normally be reserved, but I can howl with the best of them.” Ilene stiffened her shoulders broadly to entrench against his advances. “They are not stopping me either. I’m going home and that’s that. I don’t care if they get rough with me. If they do, I…” She faltered in her assertions. “I’ll just have to get rougher back.” Hound dropped the musket as he could not help but sputter giggles as he tried to hold himself up with his hands slapping down at his knees. He sucked his outburst back in. “That’s cute. You: rough. I mean... ‘rougher.’” This mockery made her face downcast. He was right. She was helpless. “Don’t worry, little Ilene,” condescended Hound while resting his hands on her loosened shoulders. “They won’t have to get rough with you. No one ever has. All those clowns have to do when they come down is do what they have since they took us in. They’ll talk you into their way. And you’ll crumble to their persuasions as if you were paper. That’s the cute thing about you, my sweet, for a person who is meant to be a ruler, a queen; you are pliable to everyone’s will. You’re the good little girl that was trained to obey all those older and wiser than you. You’ll find that number increases once on your throne. You have no will of your own.” She did not look up. “Don’t give me that. You should actually thank me. Not just for my saving your life, but I’m also giving you something that no one has ever allowed you in all your days. I’m giving you a choice. Now what’s it going to be? Either way, you’ll have to go back eventually. And I’ll be with you to collect the goods for it.” Ilene cradled her confused eye into her palm. She was given a choice once. The truth of having no freedom was almost as terrible as the offered freedom to choose one damnation over another: such paths to alternate between getting friends killed, or nations betrayed. She couldn’t stay. There was too much risk involved. The soldiers, the giant, the rival pub, the merchants, and especially Mr. Hound, seemed all encroached and ready to strike. But to go home would mean to give herself up to Hound, who was looking worse than Isaac’s manipulative aspirations by each second of his longing stare poking past the mist. “I can’t… I can’t,” she whimpered. Hound tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Can’t? Can’t what? Make a choice! Or I’ll make it for you. We’re probably about to pass the Ziggurat as you go on about how you can’t.” She sniffled and crumbled under his towering anger tightening about her. “You know what? I was wrong. Maybe you do need physical force to move your will.” He pushed her into the pub’s wall. With a whack, she was plastered on to the ground. Before getting up, he pinned her back down by her breathless neck using his arm or leg (she wasn’t sure which it was) careening from the dark. Ilene screamed as Hound pulled a fist back. His arm was ready to fire just as the back door swung into him and knocked him into the ground too. It was Isaac. It was all of them. Jake and Craigson’s shapes hustled into the yard and charged into Hound. The trio mobbed the sea-mate while yelling and striking upon him. But such blows were nothing to a man who endured the worst brutalities of the merciless sea and faced down a giant with an empty musket. Hound dispatched Isaac first. He jabbed the merchant countlessly in the stomach until the winded trader slipped to his knees to tend to his soreness. Once there, Hound speared his knee up the jaw of Isaac. Isaac sailed flat on the ground. Craigson soared his arm out with a vengeful hay-maker. Hound rolled his eyes at how slow it was as he parried the fist’s wrist into a severe twist behind the slender back. Cries of vengeance turned to cries of shooting pain stinging out as Hound shoved him into the outdoor ice-box. Hound used his free arm to open the chest of ice. Tripping Craigson into the vessel’s open burrows, Hound then used the free hand to clap down Craigson's clamped neck until Hound's adversary slumped down unconscious. Jake tackled his shoulder into Hound, who simply met this with a lightening back-hand. Ilene did not want to see the next blow as she activated the pulley during the course of the fighting to escape. It was about to lower down. There would be no going back. She had no way of knowing if she passed over the top Ziggurat, or was near it. But that unknown factor didn’t stop her. “Come what may,” Marlene used to say in chance times like this (mostly while playing a competitive board game with the young princess during a desperate move to win). But Ilene could not help but notice Hound’s intense blood-lust distracting the sea-mate from her exit. He savagely bowled over his prey as he littered punches into Jake’s face. Ilene hated hearing Jake’s cries most of all. The kindest merchant shrieked more shrilly and childishly than herself. He was more like a wailing newborn experiencing pain for the first time. She was so close to coming home… “Come what may.” Hound showed no signs of letting up. That is, until, the butt of the dropped musket was jammed into the base of his neck by Ilene. This screeched his attack to an abrupt halt. As he folded his skull forward, Jake flew both of his hands into a choice collision that boxed Hound's ears in. Made even crazier by the sudden offenses on too many fronts, Hound looked to see who was behind him. It was Ilene who careened the end of the musket again, this time squarely bulldozing his across nose. Jake secured a hold over Hound’s neck as he pushed his way up and behind the mad man. Isaac and Craigson, more or less, recovered too. The two returned each punch and kick to the trapped Hound with sincere interest. Despite the dramatic flow of blood and multiplying of bruises, Hound never lost consciousness. “Enough,” he finally cried. With that, Jake pushed him out the fence-door held open by Craigson. Mr. Hound was sprawled about the front lawn. He lost his hat when he was being held by Jake. Ilene saw Hound’s eyes in full this time. The light of the moon shined down to present deep black hallows with two blue and beady spheres shining out animalistic resentment as he heaved a furious growl to take in what was lost of his breath. “Never return,” said Jake with the least mirthful of all his voices. Before Hound could cough a reply through his swollen lips and broken teeth, Jake slammed the fence-door. Before anyone could see Ilene in the aftermath, she was already slamming the door to her room. After locking everyone out, she cradled herself into the corner. Now she really couldn’t sleep. Over the course of the wintry weeks to follow, the building of Royal Services fell into a routine regiment. Craigson, being the first to get up early with a farmer’s effortlessness, proceeded to knock on each worker’s door so as to begin the day at 5 AM.
Like Hound, Ilene proved to be not much of a morning person either. She slugged in beginning each day. After splashing some water from the bucket on her and getting dressed, Ilene attempted to tidy her hair some. “Come on, young lady, we’re waiting,” was the impatient call of Craigson each day as Ilene took the longest to get herself ready. She was trying with all her wit to straighten and pull back her bangs enough to fit the hair net that was given her. “You need to shave that head if you want it to stop letting clumps get in the way,” said Isaac, the mop-headed original owner of the hair net from R.S.’s early days when he had to manage kitchen duties. Dreading the idea each time, Ilene opted to ignore it as she proceeded to her work for the day. Not wanting to be seen again by the Eurasian soldiers, Ilene volunteered for work in the kitchen rather than waiting tables. “Those brutes almost recognized me last night,” Ilene explained, “As long as they are staying here I want to avoid them at all times.” So she did. She entered the back room via the rear staircase that led straight to this area. So she didn’t have to cross through the main dining lounge. Upon entering on her first day, she got to leave the zone of being coddled as she had to get used to the rigid and heavy-handed work of chopped bread, meats, cheeses and vegetables for the restaurant. Thankfully, there were not that many orders to make during the first few days as the place still had a low ration. So she had time to get rudimentary training and understanding in the work. Jake worked alongside her on the dishes. Since not many of those needed to be done, he worked to train her. Day three on the job saw Hound and Craigson come into the back door with new crates of bread, meats, cheeses, and vegetables. The two had been searching for a local place to get such goods while Isaac stayed behind and worked on the company’s paper work as well as attending to the guests. As to how they got this great batch of products seemingly sprung from the air. “We bought them for a bargain from that restaurant going out of business downtown,” said Craigson. Isaac gave grim commentary on this news. “You don’t mean the Pesto’s place do you? I liked it there. Lot of businesses shutting down lately. The only place where they seem to thrive is in Pangea. And even then, Pangea's businesses thrive in foreign land and travel ports.” Isaac could not help, but sneak a look at Ilene as he said this. Ilene could not help but wear a little mask of guilt for that moment, though she had no say in her land’s economic relations with the rest of the world. Ilene learned the physical as well as financial burden that such lower modes of living brought. For the place was starting to grow much busier. She started each day with prepping for the onslaught to come. Three-to-four odd boxes were made for each victual of food. Most were stored in a steam-powered coolant within a few trunks out in the snow. Then the orders would begin to pile up before she could finish such preps. This was the hardest part of the job. Ilene lost track of time and sense of self in the mad scurry to keep up with each order and compensate for un-prepped items. At the end of each shift, she felt as though she left her eyes sitting on that table that had been her universe over her exhausting time spent working up a sweaty grind-stone over it. It seemed as though that they never stopped eating. Whenever she couldn’t keep up, Isaac would pop his head into the back to grumpily ask for unfinished orders. “Ilene. Lieutenant Dusk needs that turkey sandwich.” “Ilene. Where are those three hams that we need?” “Ilene! You put the wrong cheese on that last one.” “Ilene! Could you slow down? You’re dropping vegetables all over the floor! Clean it up, if you don't mind!” And so on. When worried sobs broke out, Jake ceased his scrubbing and said, “Give her a break, Isaac. She’s doing the best she can. Better than you did.” “But I am a performer, not a kitchen worker.” “Neither is she.” “I know. I know. You are doing a great job, princess. I am sorry. Now clean that up, please.” Then he slammed the door. Jake then spoke out, “If he gives you more trouble, I’ll show you my recipe for poison that I used to put in his lunch back when I worked the prepping table.” Ilene expressed thanks with a smile and bent down to her drudgery with a stronger heart. The Eurasian men would often make noises that broke through the walls of the kitchen. They varied from loud and rambunctious, to quiet and still. Ilene reasoned that the silence must have signified that they fell into a stratagem meeting for their search after her, as the room grew hushed when Isaac was not about taking orders or milling among their numbers. Isaac mentioned that they would check out once the blizzard passed. Though it made her shrunken world colder and harsher, Ilene liked the blizzard. She saw it in the back window. It was a like living portrait of art racing in a soft dash. The snow piled beautifully in hills over the backyard's pulley-platform, creating a tent-like quilt hugging over it. Another grace in the harshness was Jake, rather, his whistling. The sound that really pervaded the room was not the rowdy soldiers a doorway away, but the musical twittering of Jake. He whistled every song that Ilene knew, and even those that she didn't- picked up from different parts of the world in his time as a trader. Often he chirped off-tune or he would awkwardly transition from one song to another. Yet Jake always got the melodies and sincere spirit of each piece spot on, whether he was making merry with a foot stomping jingle or a somber death requiem. Since getting busy with the new supply of food, Ilene began to see less and less of Hound. “Where’s he been?” The princess inquired one night while drying the last of the dishes with her apron. “Him and Craigson have been renovating that warehouse that we’re using for the play.” “The play!” Excitement washed over her as quickly as water washed down the drain. “I nearly forgot about that. I haven’t even had a chance to study my role.” “Don’t worry. It’s not for another month. We’ll have time to set it up. Isaac still has to put some finishing touches to the script. Then he’ll hand them out to everyone.” “But when will I find time to study them?” “We’ll have practice once a week. Meanwhile you can sneak a look while on the job, if business is slow, or before bed. It should smooth out with our guests gone.” Ilene hung her hair-net and apron up with giddiness keeping her from going to sleep for once. One day as the snow began fading away under the orbit nearing the sun, Isaac left his script sitting out in the open lounge. Dusk picked it up and read it. He grinned with the most satisfaction that he had felt in a while. This was precisely the spark he needed to light up his plan. Isaac walked in on Dusk during the second read-through of the dramatic narrative. As Isaac entered the room, he looked about, asking aloud, “Has anyone seen my copy of the script?” Dusk held it up. Isaac gratefully drew near. “Oh, thank Alpha. You didn’t... read it, did you?” Dusk smiled wider as he affirmed that he did. “And I must say, it has the makings of a play fit for emperors and kings.” Isaac lathered himself up in his greatest weakness: his pride. “Rightly so. For you should know, I once performed for the king of Pangea himself.” “Is that so? That explains your, for lack of a better term, royal level of your services.” “If you wish,” excitedly proposed Isaac, “when you and your men want a break from your man-hunt, our production will be airing in a month on the corner of Inkle lane and Bash street.” “That is, if we haven’t already caught the fugitive,” reasoned Dusk. Isaac nearly forgot himself. “Of course. Yes. Perhaps after the show we can discuss trading services for Eurasia.” “Hm. You do run an interesting number of facets in your business.” They shook hands in agreement to the possibility of the idea. “Now, Isaac, I just remembered that I wanted to let you know that the men and I are checking out tomorrow. The snow should be all but gone and we can trudge through the rest.” “Excellent. I’ll have the bill prepared for tomorrow,” that is, as soon as Isaac could figure out how to calculate the expenses. Dusk added, "Not only that, but I’m giving you something extra for your production. Call it an investment.” After Dusk left, Isaac was content to see that the soldier was not so savage a brute as he thought. Isaac then entered the back kitchen. The door he opened booted a crouched eavesdropper to the floor with a lightly sharpened smack. Ilene twitched to her feet. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine. I don’t need your help.” She slapped the helping hand away. “What?” “Don’t play coy. I heard you making dealings with Dusk. Need I mention what they did to my best friend?” Ilene unclenched as her voice weakened, “Because I’ve been trying my hardest to not re-live what happened over and over weighing upon my mind, until it all comes crashing down when I lay in my sleep. I hate to even imagine what they’d do to me if they catch me.” “And you didn’t like the idea of having them come to the play.” “I didn’t like the idea of letting them stay here to begin with.” “What was I to do? They happened to come in. I saw an opportunity for extra money to get you home and I took it.” “Regardless of the risks involved?” “Look, we can cancel the play if it makes you feel better.” “No. I get it. We need the money. And the make-up I’ll be getting will help. Craigson even said he’ll cut my hair and put a blonde wig on me so I won’t be recognized.” Isaac put his hand on her shoulder. “Then, what’s the problem?” “I just don’t like the idea that you’re dealing with them in general. After all, isn’t the reward that you’re receiving for helping me enough? You have to turn an extra profit on this venture? For what? Just in case? When is it enough for you?” Isaac let go of her and took off his hat to scratch the top of his hair. “Look, I didn’t do it to betray you or anything. It’s just business. It try to make money and deals at every turn. It’s a habit- an instinct for me. This is how I’ve stayed afloat for so long.” Ilene turned scornfully from Isaac. This made the merchant wax wroth. “Well, excuse me if we don’t have an ivory tower to fall back on, ‘your highness.’ Here in the land of the lowly, we do what we have to so we can survive. Never mind if it fits into your little code of honor. Chivalry is dead because, for all its so-called virtues, it couldn’t foot the bill for food before starving to death.” Without turning back, she began chopping some tomatoes. She became such a natural at it over time that she was able to cut them with a violent purpose without losing control of her hold on it. “I can’t keep chatting with you, Isaac. I’ve got to make lunch for the men who murdered the woman who raised me.” She let one sharp eye stare down Isaac. “It’s what I got to do to survive.” Isaac didn’t know what else to say. “Craigson will see you about that haircut soon. Practice begins tomorrow. I hope you’ve been learning your lines. I-” He sighed, lost for words. “I got to go.” He left. Upstairs he lost himself in his paperwork- calculating profits and losses. Left alone, Ilene began reciting a few verses that came to her from the play. It was the scene in which the goddess spoke out against Alpha’s controlling ways. So spoke her portrayal of the goddess, Omega: ‘“I created this world as much as you did. Don’t presume to tell me what is right and wrong. I am not your pawn, but your partner. How would man respond to such manipulations that you bestow upon me, if you performed them unto their daily fortune?’” Ilene paused, filled with vehemence of her delivery inspired by her helpless dependence on those that don’t even seem to have her best interests at heart. “Indeed,” she said to herself with fainting frustration, “why manipulate man or goddess when woman is a pawn that is closer to your heels?” Time passed. She worked numbly through the rest of her shift. She slept. She dreamed. But not of the visions of Marlene’s death weighing over her. She instead dreamed of when she felt most alive- as a child. She was talking to Marlene again. She was six. She was the most curious about the world as she had ever been. This was when Marlene taught Ilene the most. It was a soft thrill for Ilene to question and gain in knowledge. The hardest question the princess would ask came that day. “Marlene?” The question came on their walk home from the weekly ritual of worship at the Alphite temple in the mountains by the shore, just outside of the city. Ilene held Marlene’s hand. The pair trailed behind Ilene’s parents. The king and queen were surrounded by guards, attendants, and debating policy makers as usual. “Does the story of Alpha and Omega mean that girls are bad?” This has been a theory of Pangean theological scholars: that the pervading sexism and repression of women in society may have a connection to the creation story because the act of a woman rebelling was written as the first act of evil. But that is a harsh as well as obsolete theory. So it was dismissed by leading scholars, but it began to spread in the tongues of the gentry. It was hard to explain all this to the innocent mind of a child. Marlene decided to investigate further before answering. “Why do you ask, little Ilene?” Ilene recounted the story. “Outside my window, in the streets, I saw some boys playing. It looked fun. A girl wanted to join. They said no and called her an Omega lover. And they threw rocks at her. She ran away crying. It was mean. So I stopped watching.” Some groups of women worshiped the goddess while trying to find a place in society on par with that of the male hierarchy. Some other women tried this too. But not all of them worshiped the goddess. It was hard to distinguish between social descent and heresy. So they all got bad reputations. Their daughters got the bad reputations passed to themselves by the sons of their accusers. Good girls, like Ilene, stayed in their place and got patted on the head and taken care of. Just as The Holy Volume said that it was meant to be for the good daughters of men. It was all so complicated, even for Marlene. The young maid’s mind knew to keep her place. But her heart wanted more than what men let her have. She sympathized with the radicals. She prayed to Alpha to end this conflict of the sexes. But how could she explain it to Ilene when she was so unsure of the answer herself? “Ilene… sweety… Omega was evil and wanted to take our freedoms. Alpha was good for stopping her. But that doesn’t make all boys good and all girls bad. We were all still made by him that is good. And if you stay good, and not become bad like she did, he will bless you.” “But, then, why were those boys so mean to that girl for wanting to play with them?” Marlene lovingly tightened the hand that she held. “I don’t know. Sometimes people are being mean when they think that they’re being smart.” Ilene looked up to Marlene’s face. “Like when I ate all those carrots.” Marlene snickered to her own surprise. “Yes, dear. Just like that. But you've learned never to do that again. And you’ll try to stay good, won’t you? For me?” Ilene hugged her beloved maid. “I will, Marlene. Because I love you!” Marlene held back the sob over her mouth. This was the first time that little Ilene ever said that to her. She was like the daughter that she always wanted. Marlene hugged her back. “I love you too.” The last sentence echoed until its repetitious annoyance finally woke Ilene. She placed her hands over her face. “I still love you, Marlene,” she whispered. Ilene got up and looked out the window. The snow was reduced to puddles, revealing the cobblestone street. The sun arrived visibly to Ilene for the first time in Princeberg. It shined over the hill of clouds and it laid shadowy dominoes parallel to each building in the townscape's winding canyon. A peddler pushed his cart past. A dog followed. Although it was noticeably warmer, she put on the blouse and the overalls over it. She tied the collar of the scarlet cloak about her, then came work on the hair as usual. Ilene felt as though she was starting to get a hand at fixing her hair up. Marlene still would have critiqued it to death. But Ilene resolved to assume that her maid would have nonetheless been impressed with the effort in her progressive improvement of the art. Ilene went downstairs. Craigson stopped her halfway down the steps. He invited her to sit down for some breakfast in the lounge now that the soldiers were gone. They sat down. Hound was seen on the other side of the room sporting an apron and sweeping up. “Why did you groom your hair today? You do remember that I’m cutting it today, don't you?” Ilene chided herself with frustration as she smacked her napkin on the table. “Ugh. I forgot.” She began rubbing it instinctually and softly. “It’s just become such a habit, you know?” Craigson shrugged in understanding as he took the last bite of his meal. “We’ll be going into town soon. Do you want to get it over with now?” Ilene answered by getting up and unloosening her hair band. The untamed locks flopped out, free from their bondage. She turned the chair away from the table top and sat down. She leaned her neck back. Ready. As Craigson got out the scissors, Hound stopped sweeping to view the event. As the sharp metal grazed the flesh of her skull, each snip made her hair fall away like autumn leaves. A weight seemed to shower off when she closed her eyes. It had been months since her last haircut. Marlene did it. It was before setting sail for the wedding. How much can change over the course of hair growth. Ilene felt as though she was losing something more than hair as it rained down under her eyes hanging below. She wondered, was it innocence? Identity? Or solely all those vain attempts to hold on to Marlene by performing her hair styling duties? The answer never came. Craigson was done. He wiped her neck clean of extra hairs pricking about. Ilene placed her hand on her head. The hand winced. She felt as though part of her head was gone. She imagined that she was touching a new part of herself- a deeper layer of flesh made bare. Her fingers streamed through the tiny stubs that were left. Her other hand followed in traversing this landscape that made her head feel molded into a perfectly spherical shape. It felt as though she lost something. She felt as though she gained something too- a sense of windy freedom forcing her senses to be more alive. Isaac came in as she finished wiping the excess hairs off her clothing. Ilene could not turn her continuing scowl from him, even though she wanted to. Craigson stretched his hands over his work. “What do you think?" Isaac stared at Ilene. Then he blinked at Craigson as he said, “Beautiful work. I thought that I was looking at a stranger for a second. Now, Craig, I need you to fetch Jake. And Hound, I need you to sweep this hair up. We’re leaving in a minute.” Ilene got up as Hound leaned toward her in a whisper. “I think it makes you look beautiful.” Ilene returned a small thank you. She brushed past him as he began his work. She petted her head some more as she made her way out the door. They waited out in the street. The wind was still a little chilled. Ilene tightened her cloak and put its hood over her head. Being practically bald made her sensitive to the frigid elements. The crowds were just starting to bustle out of their brief hibernation. Jake and Hound got outside. Jake squinted at Ilene’s trim. “Got the snips, eh? Too bad. I thought your hair was pretty.” Ilene questioned this. “Pretty what?” Everyone giggled at poor Jake. He shined red and gave a frazzled answer. “Blast you all. You know what I meant. Pretty beautiful. There! I said it. Now shut up and grow up! Blast it all.” His tantrum caused more laughter until he had to join in it by at least smiling and coughing a few chuckles as mutely as his pride could manage. Only Isaac did not laugh. “If we’re done with small-talk, let’s proceed to Inkle Lane.” They began to walk off with Isaac in the lead. Isaac stopped. He abruptly blocked everyone with his arms. “Wait!” He jogged back to the door. He pulled out his keys and locked it. He then took the sign that was hung up by a chain over the door. It read ‘open’ on one side and ‘closed’ on another. He switched it to the latter. Isaac jogged back to his group. “I’m always forgetting to do that. Okay. Let’s go.” They trudged thought the multiplying crowds. Ilene had to run to keep up, a task she found a little easier in overalls and lessened hair. But this resulted in her bumping into, or being bumped by, the innumerable mob of many colors. As she grew at the height of her fear that she lost her friends, she found herself bumping into the back of Craigson. The party’s train stopped. They were standing in front of what looked like another pub down the street corner. The business’s sign read: ‘First, Thirsty Resort.’ A burly man with the shadow of a beard who had something to prove stood before them. He was dressed like a fallen prophet of old. He wore white and stood erect with his husky arms bristled in fur. One of these arms had a white rag secured tightly about it. Though his apron was white, it was mostly blackened to a gray mode by over-usage. It flowed from his chest to his legs like a flowing gown. A cabal of other like-dressed followers stood behind him. He held his eyes harshly upon the merchants. He said even harsher words. “Thinking of coming into my place and making trouble again, my pack of whore-sons? Just because your ugly brood doesn’t know how to run a proper business does not mean you can come in and ruin others. Perhaps you’d like if we scheduled an appointment in which we come to your place and break some things, as well as your bones!” Ilene’s heart rang for fear of a fight. But Isaac handled it. “Ignore them, my fellow whore-son children,” was his instruction as he led his friends past the competing rivals with a hand raised to their malicious eyes pouring out pure hatred. “We’ve better things to do than waste our wits on Miles and his intrepid band of what he laughingly refers to as our competition.” As they made their way past, Hound rubbed on the indignant owner’s bloodily scabbed arm. “How’s it healing?” Miles pulled back and grabbed Hound by the lapel. Hound already had the same knife over Mile’s drooping throat. “I can make a matching set for you right here.” Miles immediately let go as his face scrunched more into a sour ball. Ilene thought that they were out of danger when Craigson said, “Isaac. They’re getting ready to do the rock throwing shtick again.” Sighing with an annoyed want for wise men in the world, Isaac suggested that they run for the lives, forgetting dignity. Stones rained after the fleeing merchants, followed by jeers jumbled together by the rest of the morning commuters. One stone struck Ilene’s head. It was a crumbling sting that crippled her senses for a second. Then there was an aching soreness that would wear on her for the rest of the day like a hat. “Those bloody-” she began to curse as she held up the back of her freshly hurting head. Jake pulled her back. “Let it go, little Ilene. You learn to develop a hard head going by that place. They’re all talk when not playing one-way catch. So brush it off.” Ilene was struck more deeply by his unexpected use of Marlene’s favorite euphemism in childhood. So she got over her ill feelings long before the headache. After sticking close by for a few more blocks, the streets grew less crowded and the buildings more decadent as Ilene was presented the warehouse on the corner of Inkle Lane and Bash Street. A man emerged from a nearby house to approach Isaac with open arms and a handful of keys. He was an old, baby-faced, and gangly fellow. His smile was thicker than any other part of his form. Giving the keys and heartily shaking Isaac’s hand, he happily clucked, “Good luck with the place, Mr. Inklewood. You’re going to need it.” Isaac shuttered. “What?” Before Isaac could inquire further, the man backed away while pointing knowingly at the merchants with praise. “You enjoy yourselves. I’m sure your show will knock the house down.” He blitzed back into the house. Isaac stood there with the keys clinking in his hand. He stood there because he was busy with losing track of how many broken windows the place had. Jake stood by his speechless brother. “Level with me, Isaac. Did we just get ripped off? Again?” Isaac erupted into the faces of Craigson and Hound. “You two were supposed to check out the place to see if it met up with our standards." Hound didn’t bother with flinching. Craigson made up for much of Hound’s lacking in this area. “But, boss, the place looked pretty good on the outside when we bought it. We didn’t want to take any trips to go see the place. We didn’t want to get caught in the snow.” “You didn’t even go though it once?” “Well, yeah. Once. Just some dirt and cob-webs here and there. See all those windows near the top? That’s going to give us some good lighting, the stars and the moon's light will shine through.” “Tell me this then, if your search was so thorough; was there any vermin? Grime? Weather damage? Good Alpha above, did you even examine the basement?” “It has a basement?” Isaac sucked a deep breath into his beat red face. He let out a shrill siren of frustration as he stamped the ground savagely and beat the building’s walls with the fat ends of his fists. His next breath gave way to a soothing composure to process all this. He closed his eyes gently during this process. When finished, he opened them. “Okay, Sorry. Just had to let out a little stress. Now, considering that we…” his voice was cut short as his mouth blubbered sappily as if about to vomit, “put a lot of money into this, let’s try to make the best of it and work with what we’ve got. We have less than a month to practice while getting this place in shape. It may take every bit of coin in our savings, but it will be worth it for the fortune that will benefit from it. So let’s not waste a minute.” Isaac put his key into the front door. It fell instead of craning open. Isaac lifted the heaviest smile he could manage so as to barely form a smirk. “One more bump on the final road home,” he repeated in a half whispered mantra as he strode within. In brief, the place was a big mess. A longer description would say that it was a four cornered coliseum on the edge of decay. The longest way to describe it would be to go into the gory details of the mud and mold accumulating on each end of the walls. Worn-out, rusted machinery hung over every step that the party took. Most of the warehouse's darkness was canceled out by the sun-showering light that made the dank sight of its inner parts visible. The floor was brittle from a dusty rock flooring beginning to decompose. While walking about, Craigson offered a little history lesson about the edifice's life as a factory business. “The old man told me that this used to be his factory for steel mills and crop-reapers during the ‘Unproductive Age.’ You know, back when upstart businesses and inventors tried using machinery to yield more crops and products? This was when too many were against the concept of working with their hands, as was the practice of the Holy Era, he and other mechanical businesses tried to compensate for this by increasing hours and lowering pay. This eventually lost most of the workers. So lots of places like this died out.” “The old man always blamed Eurasia for this. They are the most populated nation set in the old, religious ways. Even the rise in global trade is currently frowned upon by the Holy Land’s priests. Though under decay, the old man said, Eurasia as the birthplace of all world cultures is what allows their political, social, and religious views to have such a hold on the world. He fears what this may mean for the future.” Ilene asked, “I’ve always wondered why I’ve still seen machines being used, like the steam-powered pulleys and machine-cannons.” Craigson said, “Those are devices taken by the government of Pangea to use and sell for their own personal ends. It’s kind of an ugly two-edged blade. One nation dismisses handy tools as irreligious evils and the other uses them for their own irreligious ends while old folks like our con-man was just trying to use it to make a living off of the farming market. It’s kind of sad.” “What I find sad,” said Isaac with a grinding grunt, “is that you know all this history about the place and that it didn’t occur to you that it might be in shambles.” Craigson shrugged. “He said it was in good shape.” “And you believed him.” “Look, it’s like you said, the deal is done. So what are we going to do about it?” Isaac got a rough draft of a schedule lined out for everyone. Isaac resolved to conduct everyone on a multi-pronged work-load each day. "Ilene, Isaac, and Jake are to work at the pub during the day. Craigson and Hound will make trade and holding deals with local businesses during this time. Then the pub-workers will close early to go practice at the warehouse and set up the stage at night." Jake questioned him. “Couldn’t we try trading with passing ships down below again? That yielded us the most profits.” Isaac refuted Jake’s inquiry as he stated, “No. I read in the Daily Pamphlet about how other traders are noticing the oddity of that part of the ship route's place is guarded by that giant. They say he is a menace to trade. He knows that we’ll orbit over him soon. He may still want revenge on Hound and Ilene.” With a sliver of fear choking Hound’s grim voice came, “How long before we’re over Marl?” “…Who?” Hound rubbed his hat with his hand. “That’s the giant’s name.” “Huh,” said Isaac, “that’s a nice name. Anyway, we’ll be over him in a little over a month. We can’t leave because we’ll pass over Pangea a few weeks later.” Ilene grew excitedly unhappy upon hearing this. “So that means I could have gotten off weeks ago?” Isaac corrected her. “Not really, technically. For one thing, I don’t think we’re currently over it yet. It may take a day or two if my compass-calendar is correct. But, even then, we still need money for passage-ports. Otherwise, they’d arrest us for sneaking in the country.” “Now wait a minute, if I simply told them who I was, they would let you-” “Still too risky. They might still throw us out for not having the proper papers.” “For Alpha’s loving sake, Isaac. I want to go home! I want to see my room, my family, my old joys and comforts, and, most of all; I want to hold a proper ceremony for poor Marlene. And you’re keeping me from it all just so you can buy your own way in and become a part of the pampered palace workers once more.” “Not to mention risking a second encounter with Marl,” said Hound, siding with Ilene, “that beast will have probably devised a means to throw ships closer to the town. Worse yet, he might be able to find a way get his way up to the town itself.” “And,” Ilene said as her mouth quickened with the same rapid worry as her pulsating thoughts, “what if the soldiers find me in that time? It seems you’ve traded the plan that’s riskier for you for the one that is riskier for me.” Isaac tried to calmly, but firmly, talk the two down. “Peace, friends. It’s not like I’m never getting either of you back there. I just want to make it worth my while. Is that so wrong?” “You can say that to my parents when they ask why it’s taken so long to return me.” Hound added, “If she returns at all. Make all the promises you want. But you can’t guarantee that something bad won’t happen.” The shrill yell of Isaac turned bestial as he raged, “Enough of your complaints! I’ve done nothing but help you ingrates from day one. I’m your only way back, whether you like me or my means at all. I don’t like this warehouse, but I’m not leaving it. It’s just like us. We’re both in too deep. Or would you prefer I cast you both out in the street and hallooed to everyone that this is the heir to the throne of Pangea? You’d be beaten, robbed, and stripped within the hour.” “It’d be a bloody sorry hour for those in attempting that,” stoically growled Hound as he shielded in front of Ilene who was not scared, but angered by the idea of such a scene. She’d stand for herself too. Ilene bit her teeth down in imagination that she was gnawing out Isaac’s lying throat. “Fine,” she said with malice springing from her gnashed teeth. “But I’m making sure that none of you get back in the palace. I’ll let mom and dad reward you for you efforts- a small fortune that will be enough to start as many businesses as you like. But I don’t want to see you again. You filled my thirsty mouth with gallons of laughter when I was a child. But you’ve put away childish tricks and innocent slights of hand in exchange for growing into dubious deceits. These mis-directions no longer amuse me.” Ilene’s words echoed in the old factory. This cast Isaac into an abyss of shame. The warehouse’s echo ended in silence. Ilene was caught up in the shamed silence and started to feel a shame in her harsh words too. She neutrally suggested that they go get some lunch in town to stop this morbid quiet. So they locked the warehouse and left. The strangely white sun light came into Ilene’s window and awoke her. Ilene woke up feeling cleaned within her eyes, but felt dirty for sleeping in her soaked dress. This did not concern her as much when she looked about her cramped quarters. It was practically a closet that was barley fitted with a window, bed, closet, and dresser. The dresser had a mirror that she looked into to view this new problem: the state of her hair.
It was like discolored sea weed washed about the shore. She removed her head band to see it bulge out in rags more than ever. Her heart fainted sadly knowing that she’d never know the motherly touch of her maid upon her for comfort and cleanliness. She pouted to think that this may never make her feel spiritually clean ever though she could fix her own current and physical hygiene. Growing annoyed with the needy longing, she mentally forged a bullet to blast away those quivering eyes helplessly vying for tears that would not come. Trying to brush off her sorrows, she found a comb in the dresser's drawers. Missing Marlene wasn’t going to fix her hair. So she got to work with brushing. She looked out the window to see that it was fairly early. She wasn’t usually one to get up early. But the spare sleep from yesterday must have cause her to rise before sun up. The dim clouds signaled that this was probably meant to be a foggy day. Then Ilene’s brushing halted as she noticed something strange: snow. She could not believe the sight of it filled upon the streets. She continued brushing only to keep making double-takes at the window to validate her doubting eyes. “Why is there snow outside?” asked the shivering Ilene after she later went downstairs to see Jake sleeping on the bar’s table top. The jester’s body blared out in waking surprise as he fell over the hidden side, loudly crashing into the floor while breaking the mug of beer that was dripping from his hand. “My goodness,” cried Ilene with her hands over her mouth. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.” She rushed to see over the counter. She was afraid that he was terribly injured given his silence. Jake popped up from the counter while waving his hands out and molding his face into a devilish snarl. “Boo!” he exclaimed. This paralyzed Ilene’s concern. “There now,” the jester said calmly. “You scared me. Now I’ve scared you. Now we’re even.” Ilene petted back one of her newly straightened bangs near the confines of her pony-tail’s band. Her hair was still unkempt given the amateurish structuring. But it looked better than it did before. With this swiftly done, she said, “Seeing you fall scared me more than the relief of seeing you back on your feet again. I mean, who says ‘boo’ to seriously scare people? I’m not a child. In fact, I’ll be 17 next month.” Jake burped and picked one of his ears. She found it most unbecoming. So she turned from his loathsome manners for a beat. “So,” Jake asked between a few yawns, “why did you awaken me? Something about snow?” Ilene sat at her bar stool from last night. “That’s right. Why is their snow outside? Isn’t it summer?” Jake wiped the broken glass from his chest. He had a thankfully small cut that he wished to hide from the sensitive princess. Isaac told him to leave a good impression on the girl last night. Jake wanted to return to the palace most of all, even more than Ilene herself. He hoped that his lost lover still worked there. A virtuous jester from time-to-time, Jake did not expose who was with him when word of his liberal fooling with one of the staff was brought up. Holding to this hope, Jake turned from Ilene while reaching down in the lower cabinet to grab bandages as well as a new drinking glass. “Right. I sometimes forget the weather is different down there. What you’ve asked is the chiefest of questions by tourists who first arrive at orbs like Princeberg.” Jake set the bandage and then got the last vestige of a bottle to pour into his glass. “I’d put it in layman’s terms, but you’re not exactly a layman. Then again, I’m a layman and I don’t know any other terms. So I’ll use layman’s terms.” He turned and hid the wrapped-up injury under the cleft of his arm pit while sipping the glass with his other hand rather loudly. Misdirection: the key to a great jester as well as magician, a favored motto of his life’s profession. “You understand how the sun goes around the earth?” Ilene laid her head on her hand. “Actually, the earth is the one that goes around the sun.” Gulping down the drink, he rasped in a reply, “It’s too early for the likes of me to keep track of my sciences. I don’t even want to know what time it is. Anyway, that same orbiting deal is double fold for the orbs. Since they’re rotating so near our world, they pass into new seasons every few weeks because it encompasses all the world in that time.” Ilene took her head from her hand, approving that she understood. “I get it. Since it moves around the sun faster than the earth, it gets to experience all the climate shifts more quickly.” She shivered as a stiff wind whipped through some cracks in the building. Unshaken by the breeze, Jake slurped in the last of his drink. He looked forlornly at its dry bottom. “Aye. What you said.” He looked up at her. “Can I make you some breakfast? I think we got some of that cheese left. You look like you could use a blanket too.” Ilene fasted from breakfast. The cheese from the night before made her a little queasy. Before long, everyone else made their way downstairs in sequential order. Mr. Hound was the last to wake up. He found Ilene and the three merchants gathered about a fire place in the chimney off the dining area. They heeded to the words of the girl now wrapped in blankets. She seemed to be upon the tail-end of a funny story. “And that, friends, is why you never bring two swine’s near the royal throne room. Mother and father could not sit upon their thrones for weeks.” Most of her new friends burst out in jovial cackling. Jester Jake could appreciate humor most of all and laughed the hardest. It had been a long time since he could stand back and meet up with joy during his sorry course. “Ah. Hello, Mr. Hound. Princess Ilene was just telling us of her wild youth. They never publish such fascinating stories in the Daily Pamphlet.” Hound grumbled gibberish rudely. Cleary not a morning person. Craigson said, “Speaking of the local paper, could you pass me that copy of the Daily Pamphlet on the counter over there?” Hound stared harshly at Craigson. “Consider it your first duty in our employ,” encouraged Craigson sharply. Hound snatched the paper and unceremoniously handed it to the waiting palm of Craigson. “There’s a good lad,” the trader satirized as he opened the news document. Hound duly ignored him and sat upon a rug before the fire. Hound was at the foot of the seats taken for the couch and two rocking-chairs. Ilene rose from her centered rocking chair. “I say, Hound. I wish to show you my new clothes. The lads picked them out to replace my ruined dress.” Hound peered over to see Ilene remove the blanket as she presented her new tunic. Her clothing acted as a combination of all three merchants wardrobes. She had a poofy, blouse-like shirt with overalls padded over them. She wore a worn out old jester’s collar over her chest and at the ends of her sleeves. She also had a pair of pointy shoes and a velvet cape to match Isaac’s own. “We each gave her one simple set of duds that are now buried underneath all of that and she still insisted that she was too cold. So one thing led to another and…” Isaac sighed with further cackles vaporizing out his iced mouth. “How long must I stay bundled up like this?” asked Ilene. “Until about a week or two from now, my dear,” assured Isaac. “Then it will be spring time.” “Then you can strip,” darkly inferred Hound to everyone’s sudden discomfort. The look upon his face over Ilene did not help either as it was unblinking and grinning with no sign of feigning. The discomfort was ended by Craigson, too absorbed by the paper to listen to conversation, screaming with joy. “We’ve got it, lads. Our ticket to success. Look here and be merry.” Craigson spread the paper out for all to read. He pointed to a notice: Local warehouse on the corner of Inkle Lane and Bash Street open to cheap sale. Renovations required upon buyer’s purchase. Details disclosed at neighboring home of owner on Inkle Lane. Ask for Barnaul Ladson. Craigson declared, “We’re cheap. We can surely fix up that building too.” Isaac exclaimed, “And we can surely put on my play there.” Craigson frowned, “No. I meant that we can use it as a supply house for the local trading plan we had.” Isaac reasoned, “Why can’t we do both?” Craigson slapped the paper on the floor. “Isaac. We’re a pub that acts as a delivery and trading service. We can’t go off pretending that you’re still in your lofty world of the arts.” Ilene intervened with curiosity. “What’s this about a play?” Isaac ignored Ilene as he replied to Craigson. “We could potentially bring in more buyers with the publicity that could be involved with the show. And you want to throw that all away?” Craigson hotly stomped in front of Isaac. “I’m not getting on that stage to be laughed at.” Isaac retorted, “So what do you think is going to happen to you when you go back to the palace to perform?” Craigson stomped away and adjusted the wood in the fireplace with a poker. “That was different It was royalty that we performed for. I got to sleep in a comfortable bed after eating a fattening meal every night. Here,” he flung out a sloppy presentation meant to represent the whole of the inner city, “I’m just another pauper to be mocked. I want to stick with what practically yields a profit and keep our heads down.” Craigson poked the wood with growing frustration. “Besides, what if Ilene is recognized during the show? We can’t have that.” Ilene’s face shone with delight. “Am I in the show? What’s it-” Isaac cut Ilene off to grab Craigson’s shoulder. “Some make-up will fix that for her. Don’t mix up what this is about. If the stage bothers you that much, how about I have you work the curtain backstage?” Craigson smiled. “Well, I guess that this public event could bring in some more buyers.” But Isaac snapped into worry again as he realized, “Egads, if you’re not in the play, I’ll have to take your place. And we need musical accompaniment. And Jake can’t play to save his soul.” Jake said nothing and only snorted. “Who can I get to play a violin on such short notice? We’re already going to put enough money into this deal.” Craigson’s poking of the wood grew limp and careless as one of the blazing log’s rolled out of the fireplace as a result. Everyone scattered and yowled wildly. Before the log set fire to the rug, Hound rose and promptly kicked it out of the window by the entrance’s door. The broken glass welcomed in a freezing breezed that bit into Ilene from across the room. “I’ll help you fix the window,” Hound said soberly, “Also, I was going to say that I can play the violin for you too.” Ilene perked up despite the minor crisis shocking her. “Excellent. What character am I to play?” Isaac said, “Only the goddess of all creation.” Ilene paused, transfixed by the idea. Then with over-dramatic flair, she announced, “Tis the role that I was born to play.” They cried hurrah before proceeding to work on hammering up a covering board over the busted window. As they finished nailing up the window, a new burst of frigid air blasted into the pub. The front door was open. The customers were clearly from Eurasia to Ilene’s fright that froze her more than the cold. The group was made up of less than a half-dozen soldiers with their swords brandished at the helm of their hips as they were in their capital city. At the center of this squad of the beige-fur clad barbarians was their leader. He was wrapped in rough cloak made from an albino deer’s fur to contra the brown deer fur-skins worn by the other men. He had a dulled, but fierce look about him that showed that he could not abide with social company while able to quickly master his personality of such company. “Did we have an accident with the window, gentlemen?” His voice was smooth, but aggressively to the point. “I hope that this doesn’t mean that you’re closed. My men and I just got into town and we are most thirsty.” Isaac approached the Eurasian warriors with a nervous look unto his fellows behind him. The merchant changed his obvious fear to his flamboyant penchant for polite business formalities and jargon that he personally liked to believe made him sound charming. “Honored guests of the Eurasian realm,” he slowly expostulated with a deep bow to the snickers of the soldiers and even from Mr. Hound too. Isaac continued his oration as he rose up. “We regret to inform you that our latest stock of beverages has been delayed due to unforeseen circumstances.” The man laid his hand tightly on his sword. He marched closer to Isaac. “You mean that you are a pub without anything to drink? Didn’t I just tell you that my men and I are thirsty?” He raised his sword. But he did not direct it at Isaac. He merely whisked and thrust it into the air. It faced away from the merchant. Yet the weapon’s movements were inches from the face that began to spurt out sweat. The warrior began to speak in relation to this action. “I’ve practiced with this sword for years, before I even joined the military. Its hunger to strike down those who have wronged me is far greater than the thirst of my lips. I wish for all my years of practice to bear results on those who work against my heart’s desires, not upon useless louts that can’t even fulfill my body’s needs." The growing threat evident in the lowering tone of the client’s voice made Ilene hide behind Jake and warp her face further into the covers. She was afraid of the off-chance of this killer recognizing her. The soldier that descended from the wave flashed in Ilene’s mind. This made her tremble to think of how rapidly these soldiers could descend upon her and tear her asunder as was done to Marlene. Isaac was equally scared. Yet this was not his first upset customer. He had a professional trick out of it. “Your men will surely get their drinks. Just not here. There is a pub down the street that has beer aplenty, though it is a tad expensive.” The man was not amused. He stabbed the sword into the ground in front of Isaac who shuffled back by the time it already penetrated the scuffled flooring. “So you expect us to go back out in the whipping cold? It is turning into a blizzard out there.” “Of course not,” lightly returned Isaac, “I’m not as silly as I look.” Before the trained killer could mumble that this could have fooled him, Isaac lined out a solution that soothed his ears. “As a free service of ‘Royal Services’ (our business) we’ll send some of our top men out into the harsh elements with your money and bring you back drinks. In exchange, we’ll let you not only spend the wintry weeks here with us half-off our usual rate. Then, when our latest order of drinks come in, we’ll give you half off that product as well.” The solider waxed happy with a hardy smile stretching over his face. “You drive a good deal, little man. I like it.” The warrior held Isaac up with a hug wrapped about him with one arm. “And if you don’t return with our money,” he darkly whispered, “we’ll cut up the rest of your workers and take this place as a conquered post.” Cheering happily again, he announced to his comrades that, “This man is the savior to our thirst. Give him your cheers and list of drink orders. Have at him.” The burly man shoved the fumbling Isaac into the throngs of the crowd. Fighting to keep hold of his hat during the stumbles, he also grabbed a notepad and pen from the table to begin taking orders. Isaac then juggled with keeping track of each loudly given order mixed with four others going off at once. Ilene turned to Jake. “So,” she began with confusion bubbled in her mind, “this place is not only an exporter, importer, pub, and playhouse, but it is also an inn?” Jake simply said, “For every new financial opportunity, we take up a new trade. That’s our unspoken slogan according to Isaac.” “Allow me to introduce myself,” broke in the Eurasian commander. “Lieutenant Dusk Hawkskin. The names of my troops ye need not worry over. They are soldiers of Eurasia and are trained to happily die as well as win for their country.” Mr. Hound was the first to interview the militant guest, shaking his hand warmly. “Mr. Hound. Fine to meet you. What brings you to Princeberg, Lieutenant? The view?” Hound spoke as if he were joking with a stranger on the street rather than a newly promoted officer hungry for respect. “We are in pursuit of a fugitive of Eurasia. Details on the suspect are still classified, but you’ll be hearing about her soon enough once the proper details have been arranged.” Ilene tightened the covers about her face. She knew that she was this fugitive, though she broke no law. Lida firmly established that she would pursue her from the ends of the earth to exact her plans. Hound talked leisurely on, “Any trouble getting here?” This talk should be causing as much fear for himself as well as Ilene. But he still remained casual. “Indeed,” approved Dusk, “we were nearly sunk by a giant last night. Thankfully, our men loaded up on the platform in time to escape its clutches. This rock must have orbited out of its reach by now too. But those poor devils that had to take charge of the ship were not so lucky.” As Ilene bowed her head in sorrow for those that died, a laugh leaped out of Dusk. “Like I said: that’s their main goal in life. The ideal of a Eurasian soldier is to live like a hero or respectfully die for your people.” Ilene could not gauge the reaction of the others given her covering. She believed that they had as much scorn written in their faces against this vile man as she did. Craigson said, “I thought that the giants were killed by the people of Eurasia years ago.” Dusk replied, “We did. But there are still a few broods leftover.” Jake said, “Why, that must be the same giant who lost us our supplies when we picked up the prince-” With a blink upon hearing him, Ilene found herself muffling Jake’s mouth. This did not go unnoticed. Dusk walked toward him after he wrenched his way free of Ilene. Each of his steps doubled the steps of Ilene’s panicking heart-beats. “What was that, jester?” Jake swiveled to remember that she was not to be found, especially by Eurasians. He had to watch such slip-ups. “I said... I said...” he wavered in what to say as Dusk’s presence seemed to grow larger and more supreme before him. “I said that the giant attacked us too. That’s why we don’t have drinks. It was such a relief to me. I knew that if we handed out such an excuse that you wouldn’t believe us. What a load off my mind that is.” Dusk wouldn’t let up. “Didn’t you also bring up something about a prince, or was it a princess?” Ilene felt cornered. She didn’t know what to do if they found her out. The sweat pounding through her multi-layer of clothing screamed out that she could only prepare for the chill of death. But Jake regained his wit. “Princess? No, sir,” with a casually dismissiveness fluttering from his voice, “you must have misheard me. We’re in Princeberg. I said that: afterwards we picked up a Princeberg newspaper. But before I could finish, I got a touch of a cough.” Dusk seemed satisfied as he pulled himself away. “I see. I’ve seen many a strange sight in your town thus far. I’m not used to weather changing so suddenly. So you’ll forgive me for my ignorance when I ask you about that strange woman in the covers over there.” Ilene was frozen, encased in dread. “Excuse me, miss? Why do you act so oddly?” Jake was three for three as he cooked up another explanation. “I wouldn’t go near her, sir. That cough I got? It’s going around. She is afflicted by it. The covers are meant to keep us from catching it.” Ilene worked up a cough from her throat to encourage this. “Very interesting,” said Dusk. “Okay,” Isaac exclaimed just in time, “I have everyone’s order. Now to send out my best men. Jake. Hound. You two will do.” With one dreaded look out the door into the snow pummeled wasteland, Jake said, “After you, Mr. Hound.” Hound snuffed grumpily as he snatched the order along with a spare jacket from Isaac. “Some job so far. All I do is fetch like I’m some literal hound.” “And keep this in mind,” joked Jake as he took his own coat from the racks, “they treat you like a lesser animal than that over time.” After they faced the biting breeze outside and began treading into the knee-smudging depths of snow, Dusk sent two of his men to go out with them. “Just to make sure,” was how he worded it. Isaac wasn’t worried. He had no reason to swindle these men. This venture was sure to be a good boon for his business on the campaign of returning the princess, and themselves, to a luxurious life. Thus, happy Isaac offered the weary travelers a chance to repose about the dinner tables. Isaac and Craigson together worked to re-kindle the fire with better care than they gave it a moment ago. Ilene stood afar off so as to not let the flames catch upon her cloth. After ending this labor, the trio found that they were in the qualm of a terse moment wherein they were gazed upon by the burly warriors of Eurasia. They were terribly enraptured with nothing to say or do that could come to mind. Only Ilene could move as she wrapped the blanked about her so tightly that it felt as though it would trip her legs on to the floor. Isaac finally moved when he was jolted by a joyous idea as he turned to share it with Craigson. “Get your violin out and play these folks that old song for some merriment.” “What song?” “You know, the one with the simple, but fun, lyrics?” “You mean the one about the birds?” “No. The one about the deer.” “Ah-ha! That’s a good one. That will lift their burdened spirits.” With that, Craigson scuttled into the backroom and returned with his strings. He had to tune it for a moment. The rickety whine made some of the listeners antsy. Finally, he got the tune that he wanted and began to play. The melody hopped up and down in time with the merchant’s childish skips about the place. Each note got longer with each step he took until he reached the side of the bar-top. Then it took a heavily low tone that foreboded a darker message in the song’s merriment. He repeated the same cycle, but with the lyrics, as he danced with similar loose kicks atop that counter to each humming note. There was a deer He was in great fear He looked from up the bush to see if the coast was clear There goes the deer In greater fear What is the fear? Why the hunter, Pete of the frontier He had his musket locked on the white-tail rear Run, my poor deer Run through the great frontier Past the rocks and trees our friends did steer As Pete ran, he had that hunter’s leer The hunter’s pursuit could not veer Woe to my sweet deer You’ll be cooked tonight is my greatest fear But you’ll never guess what did appear Why, it was another deer But it was not in fear For a stampede of such beasts did trample Pete’s rear So friends, stay near You’ll have nothing, then, to fear Or, like Pete, you’ll be robbed of all cheer So it was how did escape my dear, deer With the song done, Craigson held aloft his arms in preparation for applause. But there were none. Ilene confided to Isaac. “I don’t think that they liked it.” “Deer hunting is our people’s way,” announced Dusk, proudly beating the chest covered by his albino deer skin, “it is a passage and pride of manhood and you would presume to mock its practice to our faces?" It would appear that the song about the deer could be well applied here. For poor Craigson tried to lend but a silly song to each ear. But he was but one without a strong group or troop to stand near. The men were clothed, warmed, and wrapped in pride by the deer. Craigson shook in fear. He didn’t enjoy being the subject of each sudden leer. Craigson could only quake. “Oh, dear.” Isaac and Ilene were about to step in to perhaps talk the restless crowd down, but the cavalry did it for them as Hound, Jake, and the soldiers burst through the door with the blizzard raging behind them. Jake heard the cause of the commotion from outside so he spoke with a wry voice to grab everyone’s attention, “Never fear. We have the beer.” Rumblings of a riot turned to the shouts of celebration. That, and the stampede of Eurasian soldiers rushing for their drinks shook the pub to its foundations. The rest of the day then went past smoothly as happy larks of drunken joy reveled with such an intense power that it superseded the memory of the culturally offensive melody. The crew gathered themselves into a corner table to watch their customers tucker themselves out after an hour or two. Between the journey and the drinks, each man eventually slumped to sleep in their own special stretch of floor. When the last Eurasian man fell to the liquid conquest, each of the crew drew a collective sigh of relief. Ilene then cooed while looking over a few of them. “Aw. They are like little babies.” Jake announced, “I’m not changing their diapers.” “Thanks for saving my performance, boys. It was getting too hot,” said Craigson. Isaac asked Jake, “What took you so long? The pub was only down the street.” To answer, Hound pulled out his knife that was freshly colored with blood. He used the borrowed jacket to clean it before flapping it back into Isaac’s lap. “You never said anything about your business having rivals.” “Ah, yes,” hem-hawed Jake, “I, er, I got a chance to introduce Mr. Hound here to the friendly competition.” “Friendly?” The gritted teeth of Hound spat out, “They tried to kill us.” “Well, usually they just talk rudely to us in bantering jest. We never broke into a brawl like that before.” “How’d it start?” asked Isaac. “Well,” began Jake, they bantered rudely as they do. For example, they made some derisive comments about our mother that I don’t believe is worth repeating in the presence of a lady.” Ilene frowned, annoyed. She was starting to get coddled like a child. She understood that she was royalty, but this pandering was starting to be a bit too much. After all, Marlene told her dirty jokes when she was of age. This princess was not as sheltered as people thought. “Anyway,” continued Jake, “you all know that I’m an expert at grinning and bearing it. But Hound didn’t take to it as naturally as I would have hoped.” Isaac looked with a widening scowl on his face for Mr. Hound. “Hound, if you’re going to work here, you have to learn how to work kindly and mannerly with the public.” “It wasn’t me,” said the sea-mate as he pointed to two snoozing soldiers with his cleaned knife. “It was them. They were the ones that began to violently demand service, slamming the ends of their swords on tables and chairs. They didn’t want to wait around for their extended stretch of banter ended. They were impatient to simply have a drink after all.” Jake bit in, “But you were the first to stab at them.” Hound rubbed his eyes and yawned as if the subject was boring him. “Was just defending our guests. The owner was coming at one of the rowdy soldiers to have a knock at them from behind. I only wounded the guy to stop them. Scared him more than hurt him. Then we all tussled around a bit before the clown flung their money at them and we made off with the stuff. You ask me, I should get a medal for what I did. I saved that soldier. That medal would go nicely with the one I’m getting for bringing you home, eh, princess?” Ilene did not reply as she took off the spare covers. No need to hide herself since the men were asleep. She was starting to get a little too warm anyway. “Look,” broke in Isaac, “let’s go get some sleep and we’ll figure all this out in the morning. Late night worrying is only going to make it worse.” So, after delicately sneaking over the mine field of slumbering men of Eurasia, they marched up the stairs for some much needed rest. Ilene did not suspect that one eye was open. It was the eye of Dusk. It watched her and recognized her as his mark that the empress sent him after. But his job wasn’t simply to just capture her. The next part of his mission would start soon. Then the girl would be his for the taking once it was over. |
Archives
October 2016
Categories |