Edmund had told his father that he was going on a journey and he wouldn't be back for a while. He thought he would have a difficult time explaining but all he had to say was that it was a religious mission.

Anyways, Edmund was now on the road with Archand and Rachel.

Edmund rubs his chin as he considers the matter. If this is some sort of test, what could the god of mischief want me to do? He obviously wouldn't want me to kill him. And he lent me a spirit of enticement… Edmund wonders. Speaking of the spirit of enticement… He thinks as he looks over. Rachel was holding his arm and pressing the side of her chest against him. She looks over at him and smiles. Isn’t it working a little too well? He thinks with a bitter smile. Edmund looks over to Archand. He was angrily trying not to look at Rachel. Too well, indeed… Edmund thinks with some worry.

...

…

Eventually, they reached the city of Arland.

As they entered the city gates, they saw a large crowd. They were standing before a man on a pedestal.

“Here me, people of Arland! I am Alfie the god of mischief! Watch my magic powers!” The man says as explosions of pink and purple powders expand upwards before spreading and falling gently on the crowd.

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“Hear ye, hear ye! Hear my command! There comes a little foxey from his little foxey hole, out he goes to greet the day, and say to the mother mole. Do not do this, do not do that, only do what this god commands, then hear me say, and hear me loud, that what you want is your heart’s desire. Go out, go greet, go hear them say, then do as you please, for goodness’ sake. Then make them come and make them wild, like a naked child! And say to them when they take a peak, is this what you want, you big old creep!” The man chants to a merry tune before bursting out into a laughter.

A few people in the crowd let out a chuckle or two, but most people were bewildered.

“Who is that man?”

“He’s no god of mine.”

“Charlatan and a blasphemer!”

The man lets out a giggle and dances on the pedestal, his jingly belled hat ringing throughout the crowd.

“Whoo hoo! Hee hee! I think this god might pee!” The man says without a care.

Edmund watches this with wide eyes. But as he stood there before the crowd, he understood; this man was a true disciple of the god of mischief. I know what I have to do. Edmund thinks with determination.

He steps forward and addresses the crowd. “Enough of this! I am the real god of mischief!” Edmund announces in a thunderous voice.

He he he. This is going to be good. Just sit tight, boss. Let me do my magic. The spirit of enticement says.

Rachel and Archand look over to Edmund, shocked.

What is he doing? And why is he so dazzling? Rachel wonders.

Edmund clears his throat. Then, he does a little twirl, before doing a little dance, swinging his arms back and forth. “Hear me loud and hear me clear. This god of mischief who you hold so dear, announces to you, on this day, that this wild man, is not this god, I say. To you who believe, and to you who pray, this is your true god, for goodness sake! Don’t listen to this man, don’t listen to what he says! Instead hear this or you all shall pay! Take off your hats and take off your vests and do a little dance for mischief’s sake. With your hands and your butts, yell out loud, that you’re here to live, you’re here to shout!” Edmund says, allowing the words to flow through him.

A magical energy begins to encompass the crowd.

“Hey, I like what this man has to say.”

“I think I will do a little dance.”

“Here, boy, take my vest; I’m going to dance a little.”

Suddenly, hats began to be thrown up into the air and the people began to dance.

Edmund wipes the sweat off his brow.