Most days of the life of a Latin-American citizen don’t start with the impalement of the innocent, and that one wasn’t any different. We had taken a shower and I had slept on Mateo’s abode meanwhile Mariana did what I assume were dog things around the castle.

I lay on my bed, seeing the morning come through the window. You cannot tell the morning to pull out. You cannot tell time to wear a condom. You cannot abort a day; at most you can pretend it didn’t happen by staying in bed way more than you should.

It was a day to announce a failure. With some luck, Mateo would understand the need for an alternative source of information, one that didn’t involve randomly probing the infinite and hoping for the best.

I shuffled all the way to the throne room. Past the magic lights and the servile pit bulls. Past Florencia and her merry attitude, and past the bright spots that betrayed Cornelio’s presence in a dark room. Past Sabrina’s dumpster of a room, and past Violeta, of whom I haven’t written yet, because she was a half-elf pregnant with what I imagine was a quarter-elf, whose origin I decided not to inquire about, as a favor to my mental health. Past a kitchen with a pantry bigger than some family homes, through a flight of stairs that descended just to ascend again. Over Mariana, who had decided the middle of a hallway was a bed as good as any other.

Mateo was sitting in his throne, so I swore the motherfucker slept there. Or he was a ghost haunting the room and he could not get out for more than fifteen minutes to go to the bathroom.

I ascended the steps up to him, alone, leaving Mariana behind, because I did not need her to show I had come back with empty hands.

“Walter, why are you awake? Tell me now.” he demanded.

“What do you mean?” I replied, scratching the side of my scalp.

“It’s nine A.M, you never leave your room this early.”

“I just have bad news and could not wait to deliver them.”

He swallowed and shifted his position in the throne to a pensive one.

“Go on,” he said, like a man who is about to order an execution.

“The books we need are in the library, but nobody knows where. We need a reliable way to locate them. Maybe a way to make Phaela the Miserable cooperate.” I said, pacing from side to side around the throne platform.

“She is not going to cooperate, not even under the worst of tortures. We have a disagreement about… childish matters.”

“I am going to ignore you called destroying her home a childish matter. We could restrain her and look into her eye.” Both sentences came out with the same tone, and it was that of a suggestion.

His, however, was more of an inquiring one, “I thought you were on board with my plans, Walter.”

“I am. I am an asshole. I don’t mind killing people here, but we need to recognize we are, you know, killing them. Honest assholery, that’s my way.”

We stared at each other’s eyes long and hard. To whoever writes a fanfic about this: know that, as a biologist, I understand enough about chemistry to device pipe bombs.

He shrugged and adopted a more relaxed stance. “I mean, I agree, no reason to enjoy what we need to do. You just come across as the kind of psychopath that would enjoy the carnage.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“I will probably derive some euphoria from it and then, when the post-nut clarity of omnicide hits while I am chilling back in my comfy apartment, cry like a lil’ bitch.”

“Sounds reasonable. And, about the library, worry not, because we already have all that we need to…” He made a pause and adjusted his shades. “Retrieve them.”

A puff of the purest and most divine of lights exploded by my side and, out of it, emerged Mariana.

I raised an eyebrow. “You can teleport anywhere?”

Grabbing her from the neck skin, I repeated my question.

She stopped licking the divine glitter off her paw. “Only when it would be funny.”

“I have seen Funny Teleport before. It checks out,” granted Mateo.

“Fine, I won’t question the rules of this fucking world anymore. They clearly change every time I do. How can we use Mariana to get the books?”

“I am sure you can think about that for yourself.”

I remained silent and, after a while, shook my head.

“…Really?” he sighed and took off the shades.

“It’s an infinite room.”

“That should be no problem for the Retriever Bloodline Blessing.”

“Ah, we have to get that, then,” I grumbled, jaded.

“I will be asking Sabrina for a gun because my brain became a revolutionary and wants to be free all over the floor.” He stood and walked up to me. “What do you mean you don’t have the bloodline blessing for Mariana?”

The droplets of saliva resulting from his shouting on my face made the situation slightly uncomfortable.

“I just found out they exist this week.”

Stepping back, Mateo sat on his throne once again.

“You know what, chill, this… this makes things a bit harder. But, you are serving me well, Walter, you are serving me better than many others. You are on board with my plans.”

“Others? Like Matador?”

“Yes. And Lucía, who is a good friend but refuses to play along. And many I may not know of, but oppose me all the same. The ones who know of my plans, and want to foil them, to stay in this doomed world because their lives here have more meaning than on Earth. Escapists, Walter.”

“Like the Nightwish song!” butted in Mariana.

This was going to become a long winded talk, so, I decided to ask the most important question “May I get a chair?”

Mateo stood up and pointed to the throne.

“I am not more worthy of it than you, use it as a normal seat, I will stand in the meanwhile.”

I sat down and felt powerful, sophisticated, like I could make Rosas into my twink. And yet Mateo was still king —or emperor… o Caesar…— an imposing figure before me, scratching Mariana’s head.

“So, Escapists. I will not hide it from you anymore: The bomb blueprints in Sabrina’s room are a bait, the true project is hidden in a place only her and I know. We have tried many other energy sources, and even two of my daughters became Escapists.”

“That’s why I don’t see them around here?”

Pacing from side to side with the hands behind his back, he began. “Yes. As you act and become notorious, they may target you and offer to join them. When the time comes, I hope you do the right thing. I pray for it. That small detail aside, I guess, I should tell you this. First and foremost: not even I know where the shrine of the Retriever god is. Other shrines are more or less common knowledge, most being battle enhancements, some requiring to face the gods in a deadly showdown. The retriever blessing is different. It allows the dogs to fetch any non-living item that exists and they can carry.”

“So, coupled with the library…” I ventured.

“It grants access to any and all knowledge that can ever exist. Granted, some documented uses have been stealing valuable wines, jewelry, or rescuing lost people by asking the dog to fetch an item they had on their person. There was also a guy who used it to collect… well, it reminds me of you.”

Knowing the image Mateo had formed of me, I assumed that meant someone was using it to steal female underwear. Despicable.

“Go on. Tell me how to figure out where said shrine is.”

He gestured for me to shut up and listen.

“I am getting to that. The location of the shrine is a secret jealously guarded by the ICEA, or Intercontinental Cynological Experts Assembly. If you earn their favor or win one of their competitions, they may be willing to… throw you a bone.”

Without a single reaction, I awaited.

“Oh, come on, dogs? Throw a bone?”

My face kept on seeming made of stone.

“I hereby order you to chuckle, at least.”

Compliance was not among my plans.

“Cunt. Anyway, Mariana should have a teleport point to their headquarters, go there when you are ready. Find a way to get that damn blessing, and, one las thing, Walter.” He walked up to my side a placed a hand on my shoulder. “Take care, friend.”

“We will.”

Silence settled like a dust cloud.

“Give me back my throne?”

“No!”