As the horse huffed and the wheels of the carriage clacked along the road, the chauffeur wondered what was being discussed in the back where he couldn’t listen. He had been the family’s chauffeur for 20 years and had been loyal to them for every one. He wore a black suit of similar tailoring to the others, though it had no trim of golf or silver. He had been paid well over the years for his remarkable service, loyalty, and, most importantly, confidentiality.
The carriage that the family rode in was noticeably nicer than most others. It looked like one might use for a funeral service, dark and sleek, modest yet carrying with it some class. The chauffeur sat in an open bench seat in the front, where he held the reigns for the lone, pink horse. Normally, they rode by the power of white horses with white manes, but today’s exception was in light of the special day. It was the birthday girl’s request, after all. It would not be ignored.
The rest of the carriage was closed off in a box tarp, the like of which was enchanted to be soundproof and resistant to external force. The box had a window on either side that was only see-through from the inside. From the exterior, it just blended in with the rest of the carriage. When the family needed to exit, either side would unravel in the middle and lay out a small staircase. Another enchantment. The family thought of everything.
Despite the man’s loyalty, he always remained curious of what the family discussed while they rode together in seclusion. Today, there had just been a marvelous party for the young girl. She had turned 15. Her father had arranged for three other carts full of people to attend from the city, 11 guests, plus herself and her parents. Serval others had arrived by portal from around the region. The girl had truly enjoyed herself.
Oh! And of course. There were those strangers who tried to crash the girl’s party. How peculiar they were, the chauffeur thought to himself, that they would accuse Sir Ottilus of kidnapping his own daughter.
Considering the festivities, and the chaos that ensued beforehand, the current conversation within the carriage could not leave the chauffeur’s curiosity. He had held this position for 20 years, and he had done so by never giving in to this curiosity. It would take a book for the man to write down all the times he had waited outside a room while the family went inside, waited inside while the family dealt with someone outside, or rode in the carriage as he did now, while the family eluded him inside. Yet despite every ounce of interest the man had, he never gave in to the wonder, and that was something he was proud of more than anything. Still, he fantasized.
Inside the carriage, the man with the sideburns was puttering to himself with pensive disturbance. Something about the recent altercation had irked him, and he was unsure why. He sat looking out the one-way window, thinking to himself. The tall, spider-limbed woman was beside him, sitting properly and staring at their daughter, clearly not as hung up on the events of the morning as her husband was. She was never one to let others rile her up, least of all those that were beneath her.
The birthday girl, Nemal, was eyeing both of her parents back and forth with a wide smile, kicking her legs against her seat. She sat surrounded by gifts from the party, most of which were unopened, as she wanted to save the moment for herself rather than share it with her guests. One, however, had been opened. It was a gift from her mother, which she had opened in the carriage just a few minutes ago, and she was rather enamored by it. The gift was a silver claw that was worn over the index finger as a ring. It had a spiral rose thorn engraved along its sides, and a rose imprinted over where the nail would be. Nemal found it beautiful.
She twiddled her steel-laced finger in the air, watching the metal glisten in the fight light that somehow peeked through the coveted carriage. Her mother, still in the same fixed posture, finally broke the silence.
“Did you have fun, darling?” the girl’s mother asked with an elegant tone to her voice.
“I did, mama. I really did,” Nemal replied cheerfully. “And the gift is excellent. I really love it, really truly.”
“That’s wonderful to hear, darling. I’m really glad you love it so.”
“And the surprise was wonderful, too. Plumrose was beautiful. For such a small town, it really captured my gaze. Thank, thank you.”
“Of course, darling! You know, Plumrose was actually your father’s idea.”
The two turned to look at the navy-suited man, who was still peering out the concealed window, muttering to himself. “Ottilus, darling,” the woman beckoned.
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“Hm? Ah yes, yes,” Ottilus snapped, checking back in with reality. “I’m sorry, dear. Apologies, Nemal, my girl. I seem to have had my attention taken from me. Nevertheless, yes, yes, I was the one who came up with Plumrose, I hope that’s alright.”
“Of course it’s alright, papa, of course it is,” responded Nemal sweetly. “It was the perfect spot. And, if we hadn’t gone there, we wouldn’t have stumbled upon those strangers that confronted us.”
Ottilus turned back to the window, reading his hand to his chin. “Yes, those strangers…” he muttered.
“Papa, are you alright?” Nemal asked. “I hope they didn't upset you. They didn’t ruin anything, I swear they didn’t. If anything, they made it better. I really loved beating them down, it was quite fun. And to do it alongside you, well, that was just a blast. I only wish we could have hurt them before they passed out.”
Turning back to his daughter with a look that suggested he had only half been paying attention, Ottilus replied, “Ha, ha, is that so? Well, I’m glad to hear it. As for me, I’m quite alright, you need not worry about me. I was just thinking what must have gotten into those vermin to attack us so boldly.”
“I’m sure it was nothing, darling,” the gangly woman responded.
“I’m sure you’re right, Mureum, dear,” Ottilus replied begrudgingly. “I suppose we shouldn’t worry. It’s not likely we will see them again any time soon. If they carry the kind of bravado they displayed against us everywhere they go, they’re bound to be killed sooner or later.”
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Inside the dark violet bubble, Azim had stopped trying to fight the rabid girl entirely. While she was punching and lunging at him, swinging her again-manifested sword and kicking at air, the android simply turned and evaded, without ever dealing any returning strike. Instead, he watched her. Analyzed her. Something he was only now thinking of doing proficiently when facing someone. Within her, he saw turmoil, and it was enough to leave him without a will to fight the green-skinned girl.
The robot asked the girl to calm down, but she would not listen. Despite being disarmed previously, she had summoned the sword back to her hand, and with a vengeance. Her swings and strikes inched closer as Azim lowered his guard more and more. The girl kept screaming for him to get away, but would close the distance with the metal man every time he did. His processors could not arrive at an appropriate solution, mainly because he knew he could not just leave her alone. Despite the stress in her eyes, this was not her home, and the insetoid farmer needed it back.
It was then that Azim noticed the plum barrier around them flickering slightly. It only occurred for a fraction of a second, but the robot noticed. Thirty seconds later, keeping up his evasive maneuvers, he noticed it again. The entire dome of the barrier, fading in and out of color, just for a second. The robot made the astute assumption that whatever was going on with the green-skinned girl was affecting the barrier that she had put in place, and over time it was beginning to weaken. In a matter of minutes, the barrier was likely to fall on its own, without her releasing the spell or someone else breaking the dome.
On the outside, the tension was slowly leaving the group. While they were nervous about what was occurring within the bubble, they had made peace with the fact that there wasn’t much they could do in the meantime. Well, most of them. Riva was still holding her attention towards the barrier, worried for how Azim might be doing. Leone reassured her that he was fine, and likely just trying to figure out the cause of the problem. He also mentioned that if Azim had somehow been beaten, whoever cast the barrier likely would have dropped it by now, so she did not have to worry. Surprisingly, that helped her ease up just a bit. When the group saw the barrier fade in and out of color for just a second, they all perked up, wondering if they had really just seen what they thought they had. Watching eagerly, they waited until a few minutes later, when the same thing happened again. This discovery only reinforced Leone’s reassuring words, because they figured if Azim was winning, he was probably also slowly taking down the other’s barrier from the inside.
With every passing second, the barrier grew weaker and weaker. While Azim was not entirely sure why, he made a reasonable hypothesis that the girl lashing out at him was losing control of the spell. He tried using Return once more, hoping to rip the sword from the girl’s grasp so that she was not as much of a threat, but once more she snapped it back, somehow negating the robot’s spell. Azim decided he was going to have to use a much more direct approach. For the first time in a few minutes, he advanced on the girl. She swung the sword along the ground up at the android, kicking up a flurry of dirt as she did. The metal man’s autonomic vision was momentarily blurred, but it did not stop him. The sounds he picked up around him were more than enough to keep himself aware for that second and a half that he could not rely on his sight. He ducked low and grabbed the green-skinned girl by the waist, squeezing her elbow joints so that she couldn’t lift her weapon.
“I see that you are in distress,” Azim stated calmly. “I would like to assist you, but it would be more efficient if you cooperate with my efforts.”
“Get off me! Let go, let go!” the girl just screamed. “Get away from my house, get away from my house!”
“Please,” the robot begged in his monotone voice. “I am trying to help you, but you first have to be open to help. This is not your home. It belongs to the farmer standing outside the limits of this barrier you have created.”
The girl just squirmed and whined, “No, no! It’s mine! It’s my house, mine!”
Azim loaded a statement and prepared to utter it to the girl, but a second thought entered his processors, and he withheld himself.
Rather than say any more, knowing it would upset the unhinged girl, the robot simply stared at her blankly. She squirmed and attempted to raise her sword, but could not move her arms while in the android’s grip. She rocked and forth, the front ends of her short hair brushing back and forth. Azim did not waver, holding her tightly, hoping that she would calm down in time. All the while, the girl kept screaming, “It’s my house, my house, get away, it’s my house!”
Slowly, the girl’s grunts and twists lessened and lessened. Her wild mind was begrudgingly coming to terms with the undeniable fact that she was stuck, and would not be getting loose of her intruder’s clutches. Her crazed, cat-like eyes were starting to soften, looking just the slightest bit more understanding of those around her. In her restrained state, she finally looked at Azim. Really looked at him. In her eyes, the robot saw tears. She had stopped struggling. For just a moment, the turmoil had calmed. Staring at the robot, the girl said, “This… is not my home.”