Chapter Thirty-Seven

Tracy waited patiently for Sister Catherine to return to her cell, but instead she was visited by Sister Agnes who looked concerned when she entered the room carrying a tray with a sandwich and a glass of water. Tracy studied the young woman more attentively this time. The young nun was a very beautiful woman with dark blue eyes with long lashes.

Sister Agnes must have felt Tracy’s eyes and her hands shook as she set the tray down on the bed. Tracy took this opportunity. “What’s wrong, Sister?”

Sister Agnes stopped and looked over at Tracy. “Nothing. I hope you enjoy your lunch,” she said, clearly avoiding wherever Tracy was heading.

Tracy smiled and moved the tray over to the other side of the bed. “Please, sit and talk with me. I haven’t had anyone to talk to since I left America.” She studied the young woman once again. Sister Agnes sighed and nodded.

“So,” Tracy began when Sister Agnes sat down on the bed next to her. “How long have you been cooped up here?” she asked and knew that Sister Agnes did not want to discuss her personal history.

Tracy felt as if Sister Agnes was fighting the demons in her head, it took her a long time to answer. “I’ve been with the order for about eleven years.”

Tracy looked shocked. Perhaps Sister Agnes is older than she looks. Still, eleven years – is it coincidence? “You know, my friend and I were fighting an evil entity eleven years ago,” she brought up, she wasn’t too sure how much she, herself, wanted to disclose, and saw that Sister Agnes’ features had hardened.

She was definitely fighting something in her own mind. It didn’t take long, either, because several moments later, Sister Agnes abruptly turned and faced Tracy for the first time. “I mustn’t speak of this, you must understand,” she paused and Tracy nodded in agreement. “There is a prophecy we hold on to here explaining a time of unrest and violence in the streets of England.”

Tracy shrugged and lowered her eyebrows. “What’s that got to do with me?”

Sister Agnes smiled. “Although you may not understand it, or even see it when it happens, it has everything to do with you. You are the Dream Crusader. You have fought Alexius and Orion and here you are, alive.” She paused and considered how much to tell, and then had decided that she had already said too much. “Orion was mortal you know. He was born and had lived a mortal life. In fact, there is reason to believe that he may still be mortal but using the lines of time.”

Tracy listened to Sister Agnes and when she stopped, “How do you know all this?”

Sister Agnes smiled and stood up. “There is a place within the higher bed chambers which was decorated in the most beautiful ornaments and tapestries. It looked as if it had been lying there all this time, untouched and waiting for its owner to return.”

Tracy shook her head and thought about this for only a second. “Okay? So?”

“That room was Queen Nanaac’s bed chamber.” She looked down at Tracy as she gave the nun an inquisitive look. “She was Orion’s mother,” was all she said and then made her exit, leaving Tracy to sit on the bed with an expression of awe on her face.

* * *

Rick would not let Orion control his mind. He would not cower to such little tricks like using loved ones against him. They were not here, he knew, and therefore did not fear them. Whatever spirits this castle housed, he would not let them win his mind. He knew that Emily was safe on the other side of the planet.

Although he kept these positive thoughts in his head, he was still nervous when he returned to his camp. As he sat back down on the floor, Rick knew that he would not be getting any sleep tonight.

He sat with his back to the wall the rest of the long night. Rick wasn’t sure why he was so spooked with the night’s episode; he was here, after all, to get the story of a haunted castle. He would have to witness it first-hand, even if Claudia thought that this place was a hoax. He was relieved when he saw the rays of light emanating from the tall slender windows. And with the light brought a knock on the front door.

Confused, Rick slowly stood up, no one knew he was here – and winced from stiff joints and walked over to the door. He stood to the left side of the door and stood on his tip-toes at the window to get a good look at his visitor before letting anyone enter. What he saw was a mid-thirties tall man wearing a long coat and black gloves.

“Yeah?” Rick called out to the man before he could knock another time and he turned to face Rick with a smile.

“Mr. Hopman? My name is Stan Stevens.” At first, the name meant nothing to Rick, and it showed when Stan saw the question lines across his forehead. “I spoke with Claudia this morning and she told me you wanted to meet with me to talk about this castle,” he explained and then Rick smiled in return.

“Yes. Please, come in.” Rick opened the door and moved to the side to let Stan enter. “I’m sorry if I seemed rude,” he said and closed the door once his guest was inside. “As far as I know, no one knows I’m here and I doubt if I’m really supposed to be here.”

Stan grinned and began taking off his gloves. “Yes, you are trespassing here. But I’m sure your American readers will love the story nonetheless.” He reached out his right hand and found Rick reluctant to shake his hand.

Rick lifted up his hand. “Old war wound, I’m afraid; so you’ll excuse me for not shaking?”

Stan nodded and placed the gloves into his coat pockets. He looked around and scanned the electronic equipment. “You may get something on tape, but I doubt it. King Darvon is a very private spirit.” He looked around the room once again, this time not looking at the visible. He was trying to see things that Rick could not.

“So, what do you want to know?” Stan abruptly asked and startled Rick in the process; they had been silent all the while Stan was watching the air. Rick should count himself lucky, he thought. I never meet people I don’t know – especially when there’s no money in it.

“I want to know the history of the castle. I am drawn to this place and I want to know why.” He didn’t know why, but he felt now that this is why he went to England. As if this castle had called to him.

Stan nodded. “But, not here. There’s better light in the Great Hall,” he explained and led the way through the main corridor and then turned left and entered an enormous hall. This was King Darvon’s throne room – where he did his entertaining.

Sure enough, the hall did produce more lighting through the enormous windows. A long dining table made of pine and stone wound its way to the throne which sat at the head of the table, it could have easily seated at least a hundred men. Stan walked the length of the table and tossed his body onto the throne chair and draped one leg over the side. The sheer size of the chair made Stan look like a child.

“King Darvon was obsessed with his enemy, Queen Nanaac. So much so that he ended up raping her and left her pregnant. One night, Darvon kills Queen Nanaac’s husband, Lars, and takes the child before it is fully developed. It survived.” Stan paused and saw that he had Rick’s undivided attention and continued. “Darvon had Nanaac imprisoned and in honor of their son’s sixteenth birthday, he made her only son kill her. He just plunged a spike through his Mum. She didn’t die, though.”

Rick looked surprised by this and sat up straight; he had sat down on one of the benches.

“No. And this pleased her son. Instead, he had her impaled up on that spike in the front of the keep. He left her there for three days before she finally gave up.” Stan told the story as if he had rehearsed it and learned it like the back of his hand. He did not like the story much – the back story of King Darvon concerned him a great deal.

“What became of the child?” Rick had taken out his trusty notebook and had scribbled down notes of the story as he listened.

Stan did not hesitate. “He killed his father and shortly thereafter was never heard from again.” He pulled his leg back over the chair and sat up. “Does any of this help your story?”

Rick threw Stan a smile. “It does. But how do you know all this – I’m sure none of this was ever recorded.”

Stan stood up and walked over to the window and looked out before answering. “I happen to have a medium among my team and she managed to have tapped into Darvon’s spirit.” He paused and then turned to face Rick. “Believe me, that wasn’t a pretty scene.”

Rick stood up and closed his notebook. “Do you think she could help me? I would like to talk to her, if you think she’d allow it,” he said in hopes of getting to the bottom of this strange force drawing him here.

Stan lowered his head and shook it. “Well, if you were a medium yourself, maybe you could talk to her,” he explained and saw Rick’s confused expression. He walked back to where Rick was and sat down on the bench. “I told you, Darvon doesn’t like it much when people know too much about him. She died during the connection with Darvon.” Then he thought of something. “Or, it may have been a brief connection with his son, I’m not sure.”

Rick traced several cracks in the table top with his index finger and then glanced up at Stan. “Do you think that I could make a connection with Darvon myself?”

At that, Stan jumped up and almost fell backward. “Dear God! Didn’t you hear a thing I just said? It’ll kill you if you even try,” he almost shouted; the echoes bouncing off the walls gave a synonym to the emptiness of the castle.

“But suppose I could make contact with either of them, I might be able to find out why this place wants me.” Rick glanced around the room and then looked back at Stan after the latter threw him an insane laugh.

“Why it wants you? And here you are thinking about talking to the damned place! Think of it this way; if you succeed in making contact, then I believe this place has succeeded in whatever it wants of you.” They stared at one another for a while and then Stan sighed. “You aren’t strong enough to handle the spirit world. You’ll die trying to get whatever information you want.”

Rick stood up, grinning. “If I die trying to get what I want, then so be it. I’m not leaving this place until I get answers.” He turned and began walking back to the doorway. He stopped when he reached it and turned back around. “I would like your help. Whatever you can supply me with,” he said and then made his exit from the throne room and walked back to his camp.

A few minutes later Stan met Rick standing by the video camera perched on its tripod. They looked at one another and then Stan looked down and rubbed his chin. “All right. I’m yours,” he said and Rick smiled at the man. “But don’t expect miracles.”

Rick nodded and saw that Stan had begun to walk to the front door and he walked with him. “When do you think we should try?” he asked as he opened the door.

Stan shook his head and lifted an index finger and poked it on Rick’s chest. “No – not me. You. I’m here to make sure everything’s done right. Right?”

Rick smiled and nodded. To show his trust, he extended his right hand and Stan looked down at the lifeless limb. In that ten second gesture, he understood that nobody was allowed to touch his hand. There was so much not said yet understood in this simple gesture of gratitude. Somehow, Stan knew where Rick came from; and he also knew just where Richard Hopman was going. Out of both respect and sympathy, Stan grabbed Rick’s hand and shook it.

* * *

Although the cell housed no windows, she just knew that it had to be sometime in the night; Tracy’s body was screaming out that it needed sleep. Now! But she had willpower over her system; she had proven this many times before when she forced the urge to vomit out of her system. She would not let the system win tonight. She had a plan and needed to get it underway and the sooner the better.

The first part of the plan was to find Queen Nanaac’s room and do a little investigating. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to know; she felt that she would know it when she saw it. The other part was to get the hell out of this place, and fast. Both parts, she knew, would not be easy – these nuns weren’t about to let her just roam free about the castle, she knew they were hiding something.

And so when Sister Agnes brought her dinner plate, Tracy thanked her with a warm smile and placed the plate on the bed next to her and watched as Sister Agnes bowed her head and left the room. Tracy stared at the door and then at the flame. How to get out of here? It almost hurt her head to think so hard. And then a term came into her mind: Dream Crusader.

It was Sister Agnes who had told her that she was some Dream Crusader. “Well,” she whispered with a grin. “Let’s see what a Dream Crusader can do.” With that, Tracy placed the plate on the floor and lay down on the bed and closed her already-heavy lids.

In a matter of what felt like seconds, she opened her eyes and, as quickly as her large body would allow, stood up off the bed and made her way over to the door and grabbed the eternally cool torch. After a moment of hesitation, she pushed on the door and was surprised that it had opened. Tracy took a deep breath and waited until she had entered the dark corridor to release her breath.

As far as she knew, the order consisted of primarily three top nuns that she recollected from her semi unconscious mind. She has yet to meet the third woman. She had no idea how many women the order actually had, and so stealth was of the utmost importance. Her corridor had remained unwatched.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

When she reached the end of it, she took a left turn down another corridor and was relieved to find that she had entered a torch-lit passage. Still dark, she could make out her way easier although she had to walk quietly and quickly before anyone decided to go check on her in her cell.

She passed an archway and almost stumbled when she stopped just inches from voices coming from within a dimly lit room. She recognized Sister Agnes and Sister Catherine’s voices, and paid closer attention to the third voice that she had only heard when she had first arrived and was lingering on the edge of unconsciousness.

“Her powers are growing – we must act within twenty-four hours if our Master chooses to fight Orion,” announced the third voice.

“Shall we tell her the truth or wait for him to explain everything to her in his own way?” This was Sister Agnes’ voice, which sounded nervous. “And what of the child?”

“The child is an abomination. We must do what we can to keep watch over it in its life to prevent any evil doing,” said the third voice.

And then Tracy heard the voice of reason. “Let’s not be too hasty, Sisters. The Order is not to play guardian over a child; it is to make sure the conversion goes as he plans. Once the child is born, we will find a proper place for it to live.”

This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Are these women conspiring to kill her in the name of some strange god? They didn’t seem to have any sympathy for her child. In fact, it was almost as if they feared what her child would do. She took a sigh and shook her head. No, she thought. Not my child. They will not touch one hair on my baby’s head. They’ll have to get through me first.

She slowly inched her head to the doorway and saw that they were sitting with their backs to the doorway at a large stone table. Using the advantage, Tracy crouched down and scurried past the room undetected. Relieved, she quickened her pace and found a stairwell made of stones and loose rocks. With the aid of her cool torch, she ascended the spiral stairs and found that it led her to the second story. She was panting by the time she reached the door at the landing; it felt as if she had climbed three hundred steps.

Once she regained her breath, she pushed the heavy door open and was taken aback. What lay before her was a long corridor with heavy torch light and a green rug from one end to the other.

Tracy crept her way through the passageway and suddenly stopped at the fifth door on her right. She couldn’t be sure, but she felt that she was being pulled to this room and so she pushed open the heavy wooden door.

She was not shocked or surprised by what the bed chamber had to offer. A large bed, neatly made with at least five layers of quilts and blankets, stood in the center of the room and a large wardrobe stood off to the right of the bed. Blue and green drapes hung down over the single window which, when she approached, looked over a considerable size of Ireland and the ocean.

She turned and moved toward the wardrobe and as she did so the blue cool torch exploded into a yellow-orange burning flame. Tracy almost dropped the torch, it had suddenly intensified in heat, but she placed it up on the wall next to the door. She turned and made her way over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. This is what she was here to see.

Tracy reached in and pulled out a piece of parchment she found on the top shelf, folded and still creased as if it had once been inside a small book – just about the exact size of the book she and Laura had been burdened with. She made her way over to the bed and leaned up against it and read what the queen had written so long ago.

My darling child,

I wish I could tell you in easier times, however, Lars – my husband and your King – is not your father. It pains me to tell you that your blood flows inside our most hated enemy. Darvon took me by force and left me with you – this I do not regret. I only wish that by the time you read this, your true father is dead.

I have spoken to the oracles and they have told me that the TimeLine is our only possible way to win the Great War. I do not understand this – perhaps you will when you are older.

There has been word from Whitaker, my beloved advisor, that your father has made the worst act of war – he has decided to plan an assault on my house! My people!

In fact, I believe I can see his torches and battle horses coming this way as I write this. I must wake Lars and I must flee my home to save your life.

My dearest baby boy, do not hate me. If I should perish by Darvon’s sword, heed my warning: I will find a way to receive my vengeance. I do not care how long it will take. If I need to take another’s soul, then I shall. The blood of your father I will drink from my chalice.

My dearest, please do not hate me. I am entrusting you with the book of the oracles. It opens the gate to the Forbidden Realms – you must see to it that your father never lays eyes upon it.

Love eternal

Tracy studied the letter and felt a sickening feeling creep in her body. Her darling child never received this letter. Her darling child was Orion. Orion lived as she had died. What did he do to her?

“He had me slaughtered,” announced a voice which caused Tracy to drop the letter and jump as she turned around. There she found the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She was young, perhaps twenty, and was tall wearing a long red gown with a golden crown atop her red curls.

Tracy dropped down onto one knee and bowed her head. “Your Highness, I apologize for prying into your affairs.”

Queen Nanaac formed a beautiful smile on her red lips and placed her bejeweled fingers on Tracy’s shoulder. “Arise, my child. There is a need for you and I would like it if you would help me.”

Tracy stood and followed the Queen to the opposite side of the room where Nanaac glanced out the window. A melancholy expression crept across her young flawless face. The view may not have faltered through the centuries, but her soul had long waited for this moment and now that it was here, her heart broke in two at the thought that she was only on this earth to kill her son. Yes, he killed her, but she always knew that his mind had been twisted and turned to evil by Darvon in the sixteen years until she was brought to him as a sacrifice. Yes, she knows that there is no hope of turning him good – that time has long passed. It saddened her to know that she had to murder her only son.

“Your pious women do not know that I am here,” Nanaac brought up and Tracy smiled and shook her head. “Amusing, I think. They pray to Ilias and instead I am here. I apologize for upsetting them.”

“They’re not with me. In fact, I’m not sure what they’re up to,” she explained as the queen nodded and she continued. “They plan to harm my baby.”

Nanaac glanced down at Tracy’s belly and placed a warm palm firmly over her navel. She closed her eyes and began a soft rhythmic breathing. “Understandable, these women are.” She released her hand and saw the horror in Tracy’s eyes. “If I am unsuccessful in my mission, then it is true that the babe will become as evil as my son was.”

Shaking her head, “No. It can’t be – I won’t let it happen,” Tracy exclaimed and began quivering, which caused Nanaac to smile.

“Have you heard my prophecies?” Tracy shook her head and the Queen continued. “I have seen you, lovely child, in my dreams so long ago. You will choose a different path in this world which will enable the second part – or prophecy to unfold. Your son is to assist you in mankind’s downfall; Orion must enter the Forbidden Realms. And then a savior will be born – a girl with red hair and green eyes, the final Dream Crusader. Do you understand?”

Tracy wasn’t too sure she understood everything as clearly as the Queen, but she nodded nevertheless.

“Good – I see that we agree then. I need your help if we are to fulfill our prophecy,” she replied and Tracy nodded. Satisfied, Nanaac extended her small arms. “Come to me, Child. Allow a kiss of my gratitude,” she said and Tracy obeyed as she walked up to her queen and embraced the woman.

Nanaac looked down at Tracy and, with her folded index finger, brought Tracy’s chin up and their eyes met. Nanaac studied the sea in Tracy’s eyes for some sign only she knew that she sought; the soul of the innocent is giving up. I need to act fast or lose this opportunity forever. Gently she bent her head down to Tracy’s and their lips touched.

She didn’t know why, but when she felt the queen’s velvety lips touch hers, she tasted roses and death. Tracy closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, and when she opened them again, her lovely queen had vanished.

Her lovely queen had vanished, yet her presence was still felt and it took Tracy a short while to discover why. Her body was being shared. Tracy felt the full majestic power of her queen’s kiss of gratitude

Nanaac had moved her new hands down to her large abdomen and then the panic exploded, which caused Tracy to be knocked down onto her back.

“Oh God!” screamed the voice of her queen through her lips. “Get it out of me! It’s not even your child! Darvon’s!” Nanaac screamed and began thrashing Tracy’s body.

In a matter of minutes, the door burst open and in ran the three nuns. All three brandished their crucifixes which dangled from their gently-used rosaries. Sister Catherine approached Tracy first. “What in the name of God,” and she fell short when she noticed that Tracy’s eyes had lost all luster and a new wild expression emanated from them. “My Sisters, it has already happened without our help,” Then she looked down at the floor around Tracy and saw that her water had broken. “I see everything is progressing faster than expected.”

* * *

He was standing at the top of an old watch tower; for all he knew it could have belonged to one of the many lining the Great Wall of China, waiting for someone. He walked over to the edge of the tower and looked down and realized that he was high above a castle. Frederick looked closer and noticed that many people were walking about minding their own business below him. By the look of several of the men, they must have just left a banquette; some of the men had bloated expressions across their faces as they rubbed their large bellies.

Leaning his head over the edge, he heard snippets of what some of the people were conversing about. “Great feast – King Darvon’s done his best yet,” and then his female companion had changed the subject. “What did you think of his son?”

The man gave her a cautious look, he hesitated before answering and when he did, his voice had changed from celebratory to fear. “Sonia, we must not talk of this – not under Darvon’s Keep,” he replied.

“My dear Whitaker, we cannot cower under the likeness of either Darvon or his offspring.” Then, as an afterthought, “Do you really believe the rumors?”

“What rumors do you speak of?”

“That his son has the ability to be a Dream Crusader and that he has been training an army of what he calls Dreamkillers?”

Again, there was a pause before Whitaker replied. “If it is true, then I must steal his bible before more harm can be done to our royal family.”

Frederick turned his head when he heard the sound of pebbles and rock being stepped on and he was relieved when he saw her innocent appearance. “Laura, you frightened me,” he announced behind a smile and approached the young girl who wasn’t a day over ten.

Laura looked around behind a frightened gaze as the flames of torches and other fires danced in her brown eyes. “Where are we?” she asked and looked up at her doctor’s face.

“This, my child, is where it all began – the demon Orion I mean,” he answered and brought out a book which was wrapped in an old brown canvas. He gestured it to Laura. “I pray that your dreams of him will end soon, but I’m getting too old to protect this. I am begging that you will keep this safe. Hide it in your bed – I’ll make sure Bolan lets you go for the weekend,” he explained as she wrapped her tiny hands around the book. Tears ran down Frederick’s face as he watched young Laura Kingston study the wrapped bible behind confusion.

Frederick Whitaker awoke from his daydream as he was studying his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He had wished to God that he had never given Laura that damned book. Maybe if he had taken the responsibility like a man, perhaps Laura would still be alive and Tracy wouldn’t be fighting for hers and those of her children.

He had lived with his choices every minute of every day since that cold morning when he learned about the resurrection of Laura Kingston when she was brought into the hospital. He paid her more attention than most of her doctors – including Charles Bolan. He had given her the bible of the Dreamkillers and watched as she hid it beneath the mattress and box spring of her bed at her home. He never even thought about what would become of her sister; he didn’t think Orion would go after her.

It was his decision to give Laura the bible on that watch tower and so it was his responsibility that she is now dead and that Tracy and Richard could be close behind. This is the burden he has lived with for so long, and he now believes that his end is coming sooner than he had anticipated – the reflection staring back at him was so pale he could almost see through its flesh.

Maybe if he began at Darvon Keep he might be able to piece everything together and find out how to destroy Orion once and for all. Perhaps he could even let his relatives guarding the entrance of Eden rest in peace.

At least he knew where the castles were, had no idea where the children had wandered off to, and it was relatively easy to locate the ancient keep of King Darvon on one of the tour guides he had purchased several days ago. He really didn’t expect to have an answer written down on one of the walls, but perhaps through reflection and a little time shift of the mind, he might be able to find what he was looking for.

He quickly packed a suitcase and headed out into the cold and damp world and hailed a taxi. In just under two hours Frederick got his first glimpse of the castle of King Darvon. He got out, paid and thanked the driver, and then stared up at the castle from the large iron gate.

His gaze turned skyward when he saw the same watchtower he had given young Laura the book. Chills raced down the back of his neck and he formed mixed emotions in his head. This place has evil written all over it – shouldn’t I just turn and head back the other way?

But no. His other emotion was that of courage; and it was courage that finally won out. Taking a deep breath and holding it for several seconds, he began his trek up the long path that led to the castle. More like a tourist than a doctor, Frederick studied his surroundings as he walked past the dead foliage, paying closer attention to the trees. He came to a tall tree and stopped when he saw a warning, or a curse, carved in its trunk.

Flee this place! Fear is our new master. Guard your dreams well.

Fear? He pondered this a moment as he set his case down next to the tree. Fear was capitalized as if in a name. Who would name their child -? He formed a mischievous expression as a thought entered his mind. “No,” he whispered and then smiled.

Frederick bent and picked up his case once again and began on his journey to the castle once again.

No further distractions were noticed and he approached the large door, he did take note of the giant stake standing in the center of the yard, and he wasn’t sure if the door would be locked. He doubted it would be open and almost feared having to find some other way into the belly of the castle. But when he tugged at the metal ring on the door, he was surprised when it creaked open.

A nauseated feeling crept into his stomach as he had his first true odor of the foulness of the Keep. What he could smell was blood, body fluids, and decayed flesh.

Frederick dropped his case to the floor where it landed on its side and he fell to his knees with tears in his eyes. All went black as something large and heavy crashed into the back of his head, causing him to fall over next to his suitcase unconscious.

* * *

Bolan watched as Orion paced nervously about the chamber. Orion had both white hands balled into fists. “This is most not entertaining,” he exclaimed and shook his head. “The bastard was supposed to be with Tracy and not Richard.”

As much as he didn’t like the idea, Bolan addressed his master. “My Lord, isn’t it time to unleash your warriors? They would certainly end this damned war once and for all – they are too weak and separated.” This caused Orion to stop suddenly and spin around in his direction.

“No!” he screamed and lashed out his arm and severed Bolan’s head once again. Holding it in both hands he looked down at it. “If I release them now, they would surely find a way to destroy them. But if I wait long enough for Richard to become my servant, then I am guaranteed a victory.” At that, he threw the head back over to Bolan’s body, who was unsuccessful at catching it in midair, but had to bend down to pick it up. In the future, he would make sure that no one fucks with his head – it’s embarrassing to have a head that can easily roll off your body if you so much as sneeze.

Shaken, Bolan acknowledged his master’s intent. “Yes, Sir.” He knew the war was near an end; but whichever way it went, he would make sure that no one treats him the way Orion is treating him right now.