Chapter 25

“So,” Aren began, “What exactly is this opportunity you’re talkin’ about?” He pointed back to the throne room. “Cause dear ol’ dad in there ain’t exactly the givin’ type.” He looked suspiciously at Kraevos, wondering if his freedom was about to be bartered away.

“That may be true,” Kraevos replied, “but he is a man of his word, at least in his own twisted way. If we give you to him then we might be able to broker an arrangement.”

Before Kraevos could go any further, Sani interjected. “We are not trading Aren away!” She stood close to Kraevos and stared him down.

Kraevos gave Sani a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “I didn’t mean that we actually trade him, we merely need to convince the High Arbiter that we have. A rather straightforward ruse I know, but it is also the most direct path to what we need. Unfortunately, I cannot see any better way to retrieve my item.”

“So what is the item exactly?” Vella asked. “We came all this way and you still haven’t told us.”

“Easier to show it I suppose,” Kraevos said. He waved his hand and a silvery image appeared of a metallic-looking frame. “This is it, doesn’t look like much now I suppose, but it is of vital importance to our quest. Without it, I have no better answer for Emeria than anyone else. Honestly, I broke this apart because I was afraid I couldn’t trust myself. I wanted to put safeguards in place that would prevent me from ever attempting to overthrow the kingdoms.”

“You don’t really seem like the type to do that,” Vella said.

“If I am of a sound mind and in control of myself, I don’t think I ever would, but I have seen and heard of many things that can alter a person in such a way that I could not risk it. Such magic should only be in the hands of those who are capable of understanding the magnitude of power it possesses. So I decided to break the instrument in two. One piece resides at what used to be my safe haven, the mage’s academy in Horath, the other I decided to put in the safest, most impenetrable place I could imagine.”

“You can’t be serious,” Aren grumbled. “You put that metal thing in the blasted vault?”

“Of course I did, there is no safer, more secure place in all of Surren,” Kraevos replied.

“Yeah but there’s a big ol problem with that, no one can get into that thing!” Aren yelled clearly frustrated.

“So, I’ve heard stories and all about the vaults here being strong, but I mean could it really stop you? You must be able to break in, right?” Vella questioned.

“Unfortunately whatever stories you heard aren’t even half of it. I meant what I said, there is no safer place in all of Surren than these vaults,” Kraevos replied.

“Yeah because you made em’ that way,” Aren grumbled. “You and every other darned mage with a secret to keep. I heard it from my father a million times when I was little. Every great mage put something of value in the vaults and to pay for its safety they put wards on the whole thing.”

“Yes, in hindsight, maybe not my greatest move, coming up with that idea. Then again I got along far better with the first High Arbiter. He was far nicer than your father, so I just assumed that if I got into a dire situation I could go back to the vault and retrieve it with his permission. It’s just a teensy snag in our plan.”

Aren grumbled, “There’s so much magic surrounding the vault that nobody can get in without the say of the High Arbiter. Only his word, bound by blood and magic, can open the vaults.”

“Which is exactly why we need you,” Kraevos said with a smirk, looking directly at Aren. “You are the way into the vault, with your blood and my magic, we can fake the High Arbiter’s authority and get into the vault. We just need to have a little time to convince him that at least you can go into the vault.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Aren said, rolling his eyes. “I just came back after runnin’ away years ago and you want me to play the part of the good son, convince him to give me some responsibility and then steal from him and run?”

“Well if you want to simplify things greatly, yes that would be it,” Kraevos said, forcing a nervous smile.

Aren began to run his fingers through his hair, trying to think of a way to handle the situation. “This won’t be as easy as you’re makin’ it out to be, he’s got no reason to trust me now. Gonna take more than a few days to do this. While I’m kissing up to Daddy dearest you three are gonna have to manage to lay low in the city for a while, not cause any trouble,” He said staring straight at Sani. “You’ll have to be ready the moment I need you, day or night, 'cause if I try to steal something from the vault We are going to have an ocean’s worth of trouble coming down on us.”

“But of course,” Kraevos replied.

“Then that means I’m leaving Vella in charge of the two of you,” Aren said, pointing at Vella.

Vella shook her head “Hold up, what?”

“You’re the only one I can trust to actually lay low,” Aren explained. “She’ll be in a debtor’s prison within a day and he’ll wander off and get himself into more trouble than we’re already in.”

Sani crossed her arms and Kraevos replied with an “I beg your pardon.”

“Don’t think I haven’t already figured out a lot of your tales old man,” Aren said, raising his eyebrows. “Now that I’ve spent time with you I’m pretty sure that I can link about a dozen of the most notorious unsolved thefts in this city to you. You like to change your face, but it’s a little arrogant to stay in that robe all the time, don’t ya think?”

For once Kraevos was actually speechless for a moment. “We are all creatures of vanity at one time or another I suppose and sometimes curiosity has gotten the best of me…” He trailed off for a second, “But I suppose you are correct, Vella has the most sound judgment in this case.”

“Glad we’re all in agreement then,” Aren replied.

“Fine,” Vella added, “We’ll find someplace quiet to stay and we’ll keep to ourselves, we can use the same coins to signal each other. That should work just fine, right?”

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Aren replied. “Then we may as well get this charade started.” Aren turned back to the door to the throne room, “Gonna feel sick for days tryin’ to play nice with him.” Sani gave him a pat on the back as he began to walk forward, opening the doors. “Sooner we get this done the better.”

Kraevos slipped past Aren, ever the showman he began to speak, “Most gracious High Arbiter, we have helped your son come to a revelation and he now has begun to understand the error of his ways. Though it will take time for him to fully understand how he has hurt you and all of Lazzure, I am sure he will get there with proper guidance and of course, none could provide such guidance better than yourself.”

With a raised eyebrow the High Arbiter responded, “Is this true?” Aren attempted to play his part and nodded. It was a hesitant nod at best, but more enthusiasm would only have made it appear more of a falsehood than it already was. A smirk cracked the High Arbiter’s lips. “Splendid to hear my son. I have left your quarters mostly untouched since your youthful arrogance led you to leave my care. I’ll have an attendant bring you to them shortly.” The High Arbiter snapped his fingers and an attendant rushed into the room, he leaned in to hear his master’s orders and then rushed out. “Make sure you are ready bright and early tomorrow, the people will be pleased to see that the heir has returned. I’ll have an inventory prepared for you so that we can test that eye of yours. I hope it is still as valuable as it was when you were younger. I should hope that gift has not deserted you.” His face returned to its rather stern resting state as he looked back to Kraevos. “Well then, I thank you for speaking some sense into my boarish offspring, you shall have the reward that was posted and be on your way then. Unless of course, you have further business that warrants my immensely valuable time?”

“No sir, we have no more need of your time,” Kraevos replied. “We shall acquire our reward and be on our way.” Kraevos motioned for Vella and Sani to follow him. Vella felt a weight in the pit of her stomach as she turned, leaving Aren alone with his father. She shared an uneasy look with Sani as they walked out the door and heard it roll shut once more.

For a few moments, there was silence between the reunited father and son. Aren stood awkwardly unsure of what to say or do. “Well then,” The High Arbiter said, breaking the silence, “What exactly led you to realize the error of your ways my son? I am happy you have returned to me, but only a fool would trust such a bargain.”

“Honestly, much as I’m still not sure how I feel bout you, I am just tired. Tired of runnin’ from my blood, of runnin’ from my destiny. I didn’t come to Lazzure with any intent to turn myself in, but the sights, the sounds, the feelin’ o this place just broke me down. I couldn’t fight it anymore. This is where I belong.”

As Aren finished the attendant who had been in the room a short while ago returned and bowed. The High Arbiter examined his son one more time, clearly questioning his motives. “Fine then, I will do my best to take you at your rather brusque word. Though I would suggest you remember your schooling my son. You are about to be back in the public eye and the people expect proper eloquence from their leaders.” Aren nodded and followed the attendant, wishing to get space from his father as quickly as he could.

As soon as Aren was outside of the room the High Arbiter waved his hand and a shimmering mirror with the image of a palace guard appeared. “Captain it is your duty to keep an eye on me soon until further notice, a very watchful eye at that. I do not yet trust his intentions. My boy has always been petulant and willful like his mother and I suspect that there is something afoot.” The Captain nodded as the High Arbiter waved his hand once more, flickering the window shut. A satisfied grin came across the High Arbiter’s face. “At least this will be interesting. Perhaps my son and his little band of miscreants will prove to be worthy players in this game. He believes he is playing me, but he is unaware of how long I have been playing him. He is clever, but so was his mother and I still got the best of her. I will break his spirit just as I broke hers. I can only hope that he is made of sturdier stuff, I would hate to have to throw him away as well.”

Several rooms and corridors away Aren continued to trudge along, having his own bizarre experience of memories long gone. It had been roughly thirty years since he had been in these halls since he had been in Lazzure. Despite that, he still knew what hallways led where and could have found his way back to his room without help. It was as though he had slipped back into a horrid memory. The attendant in front of him stopped when they reached his door. “Your room sir,” he said bowing before leaving.

Aren stepped into the room and much to his father’s word, nothing had been touched. It clearly had been dusted and cleaned many times, but all the things he remembered were there. His bookshelf filled with the classic seafaring tales of Surren stood exactly as he left it. His desk sat still strewn with the same papers and drawings he had left there. Above it was Aren’s favorite thing in the room, a map of the continents as far as was known. It was beautifully handmade with gilded edges. It was the one thing his father had given him that he treasured. His father had told him that it charted all he had seen. Every time his father had told him of another daring conquest or death-defying escape he would look at the map and plot the ship’s course back to him. He used to stare at it and dream of all the places he wanted to go. He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled several books out, laying them on the desk with care. He slid a small panel to the side and found the one thing he had always hidden from his father. It was a book his mother had given him. It was how the two of them left messages for each other that the High Arbiter would never see.

Aren began to thumb through the book despite how much he knew it would hurt. He read his mother’s words to him, the little secrets, the messages of encouragement, the love. He felt like a child again as tears streamed down his face. Reading the book was like feeling his mother’s warm embrace again if only for a moment. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he reached the last of his mother’s notes in the book. Like always it was a message of love for him. He couldn’t help but feel the pain in the words. Reading them as an adult he understood the suffering his mother must have been going through. She must have known something bad was going to happen. The final note ended as she ended them all “Just know that though you are beloved by the sea, you are my one and only beloved son.” Aren could hardly see through his tears as he dropped the book in his lap. His mother had always called Aren her beloved because of his name. His name came from the old tongue or Surren, the “A” or the ocean, and the “Ren”, the heart. Aren had known few people who knew the meaning of his name, as few knew any of the old language of Surren, but the names had stuck. There were many people with “Ren” in their name who didn’t understand what it meant. That made it all the more special to Aren. He always knew that he was loved by someone, even if they weren’t there anymore. Even in his years hiding in Draeton, he wouldn’t take another name because he didn’t want to forget his mother in any way.

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Aren put the small book back where it went, slid its place shut, and put the other books back in place. He lay on the lavish bed for a moment to try and collect his emotions, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he found it brighter in the room. The bed’s plush comforter and soft pillows had swept him off to sleep despite his intent. He stood up and chuckled, “Feels like it’s been ages since I slept, guess I needed it.” He looked around the room again and saw the sun flitting through the curtains, morning had come and the sun was arching up past the horizon. Aren stepped onto the balcony that hung over the palace edge and stared across the ocean. The view was as magnificent as ever. Ships coming in and out, the gentle sea breeze and salty smell of the morning. The sun shone brilliantly across the crystal clear waters of Lazzure. Aren thought back one more time to when he was a boy and his vision of Lazzure had yet to be tainted. This was the place he hoped to rule over, that he loved, and yet beneath the façade was one truly rotten thing that tainted it all, his father, the High Arbiter.

He looked down and saw something inconspicuous that was an important part of his history. It was a small piece of rock that jutted out around the base of the palace forming a thin ledge. This was after all the very window that Aren left Lazzure through. He had slipped out in the night, climbing awkwardly down onto the ledge to escape the gilded cage that held him. He made sure it was a calm night, with little wind and calm seas. He knew if he even touched the water his father would know. It was for this reason that Aren knew he had to go inland. Though he loved the oceans and the seas, if he touched them his father would know and for that reason, he chose to go to Draeton. He had heard stories of what his father could do but had never been forced to see the true extent of his power, even the myth alone was enough to terrify Aren.

A knock on the door shook Aren from his thoughts. He walked over and answered, trying to speak correctly for a noble as long as he had to play this part. “Good morning,” he said before a now bowing attendant.

“Hello most valued sir, I have been informed that I will be assisting you from now on. I will be at your beck and call, your personal assistant and attendant. My name is Marchand.” The man looked up after a respectful amount of time. He held clothing in his arms.

“Much appreciated Marchand,” Aren replied. “But you do not have to wait on me hand and foot. Despite my years away, I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I remember the rules of Lazzure.” Aren saw the man’s face grow pale. “But by no means is this a reflection on you. I will tell my father that you are doing an admirable job of course. I just prefer to have a little space is all.” The color came back to Marchand’s face.

“Just know that if you need me I will be there sir,” he replied as he bowed, handing Aren the clothes as he turned to leave. Marchand began muttering about the “Difficult runaway” as he left, though not so far that Aren couldn’t hear him.

Aren tossed the clothes on the bed to take a look at them. They were large robes, much like his father’s. The golden scales were emblazoned over the heart. Aren couldn’t have hated them more, but he knew that this was all part of the game he and his father were now locked into. He took off his relatively grubby clothes and began to put on the robes. Even he had to admit they were comfortable. They were made of the finest silks, lightweight and brilliantly colored in the white, gold, and blue of Lazzure. Shortly after getting dressed Aren heard a knock on the door again. Again he opened to see Marchand.

“I Apologize, sir, I tried to give you space, but you have appointments that must be met,” Marchand said bowing.

“It’s ok, I understand that many things have been set in motion for me. What is the first appointment?” Aren asked.

Marchand righted himself as he spoke, “Well there are a few day’s worth of preparations for the celebration sir.”

“What celebration? It’s not time for the tides banquet and I haven’t seen any of the major western fleets coming in. What would warrant a celebration for the port?” Aren asked obliviously.

“Well that would be you, sir,” Marchand said with a stone face. “The High Arbiter and the people of Lazzure want to celebrate the return of their one and only rightful heir. This is a momentous occasion.”

Feeling rather foolish, Aren responded, “Yes, that, of course.”

“Which is why our first appointment is to get you looking proper for the occasion and for the people.” Marchand said, “We must be off to get you properly groomed sir. Life wherever you were clearly has not been kind to you, you are rather unkempt at the moment despite the robes.”

Aren rubbed his stubbly beard and took a deep breath so that he wouldn’t snap at Marchand. He had to play the regretful son and that meant going with the plan for now. “Yes… It was not… as civilized as Lazzure…” he managed to stammer out. As he was led down the hallway he couldn’t help but think about how Sani would be laughing at him right now and how he had to think of some way to get back at Kraevos for this plan.

When they reached their destination Marchand opened the door ushering Aren in and then left hurriedly. Are had been in the room many times of course as it was the royal barber. There was a chair and mirror and many different combs and other tools to cut and style hair. He took a seat in the chair and tried to relax. From behind a curtain in the room, he heard a cough and then received a firm slap on the back of his head. “Must be a special kind of stupid to be back here boy,” said the man who had just hit Aren.

Aren turned the chair to look at his assailant with a big smile on his face. “You must be even stupider than I am for staying here the whole time then, eh Ocel?” Ocel was a short old man with aged, sunburnt skin from years on the port. He had a light blue vest on with the seal of the scales, marking him as a palace worker. A comb stuck out of his pocket, which he pulled out to quickly swipe through his hair.

“I really had hoped I’d never see you again boy, despite all that, it's nice to see you.” Ocel gave Aren a hug and then looked him over. “Have you seen a decent barber since you left Lazzure? Hair looks like a cow’s backside.”

“Your fault, old man.” Aren chuckled, “When you’re used to the best you just don’t want to settle for less. Besides, I had to hide. If I got my haircut all the damsels would have been swooning over how handsome I am, can’t have that, now can I?”

“Handsome eh? What happened to the handsome, athletic boy that I used to know? Have the years not been kind, or have they been too kind?” Ocel pointed at Aren’s gut.

“Mix o both I suppose, I got a little fat and lazy, nothin’ too bad, could still kick yer behind. The strength is still there, just hidden under a layer o blubber.” They both had a good laugh at this. Ocel had always been one of the only people Aren could be himself with. He didn’t have to speak or act like a royal here and that made him relax. Most people in Lazzure were so afraid that they wouldn’t joke with Aren, but Ocel was different. He’d spent his early years on the seas and only gave it up when knee problems took away his sea legs.

Ocel placed a cape over Aren and pulled out his scissors and combs, prepared to work. “So, the usual then?” Aren nodded and Ocel began to work. Despite how he looked, Ocel moved with great precision and speed. He knew exactly what to cut, how much, and what to leave. He just had a sense of what the person in his chair needed. It only took a few minutes, though it relaxed Aren greatly. “What do you want with the beard then? Didn't have one the last time I saw ye.”

“I’d like to keep it, though I suppose it does need to be cleaned up a bit since you so eloquently said I look like a cow’s back end.” Initially, Aren had grown the beard so he looked less childish to hide, but he had grown fond of it. As Ocel lathered and shaved Aren felt like he could fall asleep. With a few last brushes, Ocel finished and righted the hair so Aren could see himself in the mirror. “Well then,” Aren said, taking a good look at himself. “I do say I think I still clean up pretty well.” Ocel smacked him upside the back of the head again and pulled off the cloak. He began to clean up as Aren stood up and looked toward the door. “Hey Ocel, thanks for at least reminding me of something good about this place.” He opened the door and began to walk out.

As he started walking away Aren could hear Ocel say “I love ye boy, but I hope for your sake that’s the last time I see you. I don’t know why you came back, but it can’t be worth the price you’ll pay.”

With a heavy sigh and now a heavier heart Aren trudged down the hall and tried to make it back to his room without Marchand’s notice, he was not so lucky. “Much better sir,” Marchand said from behind, making Aren jump in fright. “Now that we have finished that part we should get to the tailor, after all, it will take several days to have your attire for the celebration completed and we want to make sure it is done in time. Those formal robes are nice and regal, but they just aren’t appropriate for dancing.” Aren rolled his eyes and failed to hold back from muttering under his breath. “Now sir, such sarcasm and obscenity is for the peasants. I know that might have been ok wherever you were, but you are back in the high society of Lazzure. We must make sure you are ready for all that entails. After all, on top of all your responsibilities and such you also have become the most eligible bachelor in all of Lazzure.”

Aren began to feel sick. He had hated the banquets and celebrations when he was a child. He understood why most people liked them, dancing, food, and festivities, but that’s not what they were to him. Though he did plan on taking full advantage of the luscious food, he knew other priorities would take control. These always turned into politics. Who he could dance with, how he had to dance, how he had to speak, how he had to eat. All of the thought going into these activities numbed any joy from them. Aren could dance and quite well at that, but this was only because of awful lessons his father had made him take. His father had always told him that a future High Arbiter had to have a complete understanding of not just the economic arts, but the diplomatic and social ones as well. The thought of now being the most eligible bachelor in Lazzure just made him immensely uncomfortable. Every family would be trying to marry someone off to him.

HAren was trying to collect his thoughts and prepare for the diplomatic chess game ahead and was happy to have the time to think. He had a few days to prepare and he really only needed to get through the one night without making a scene. He knew if he did that he could gain access back to the vault. Back in his room that night he couldn’t help but keep muttering, “It’s just one night of dancing, eating, and talking, how bad could it be?”

The next few days passed uneventfully. Aren showed that he did still have quite a keen eye for value and he thought his father was beginning to trust him. He had begun to work his way into the good graces of several of the evaluators who held high positions in Lazzure and tried his best to act the repentant son though it aggravated him to do so. Each day he hungrily attacked each meal, sure that it would be ages after this that he’d have another meal of such quality. Despite his worries, he slept well each night in his luxurious bed. He did find himself worrying about Sani and the others, but he had yet to hear of trouble involving them, so he took that as a good sign Vella had them under control.

At last, the morning of the banquet arrived and Aren woke to the sound of someone knocking on his door. Marchand was awaiting him holding the finely tailored dress suit that Aren was to wear for the day. He took it and without a word shut the door in Marchand’s face. He cared very little for the man and found him quite grating. Marchand was quite clearly snooping on Aren, but he wasn’t good enough to find out a thing. Aren laid out the suit on his bed and began to look it over. It screamed Lazzure nobility and made Aren slightly embarrassed even before he put it on. The suit itself was a deep charcoal black with a midnight blue shirt. Small gold accents lined the pockets and edging to try and flaunt the money of the High Arbiter’s kin. The cufflinks were the scales of Lazzure in all their ostentatious glory. Aren took what little time he had that day to prepare, trying to focus on the task at hand, treating it like any other mission he had been on. He was far more comfortable riding a dragon into battle than he was wearing a suit to a diplomatic party.

At last, Aren judged that it was time to get dressed. With a heavy sigh, he put on the fancy new clothes. He looked in the mirror and hated what he saw. It was him, sure, but it was the version of himself he swore he wouldn’t become. The version who followed his father, the version of him that he ran away from. He looked the part, clean cut, well dressed, and well-groomed and over the past few days, he had played the part too. The part that really worried Aren was how easy and natural it all still felt.

A knock at the door assured Aren that he had judged the time right. “Sir, it is time to head to the festivities,” Marchand said formally on the other side of the door. Aren grunted as he walked to the door, unsure of what to say at this point. He was now far less concerned about Marchand and figured his energy was better spent schmoozing the other diplomats and high traders than it was making pleasantries with a palace worker. He ignored whatever Marchand was rambling on their walk to the main hall, focusing on his plan of attack, though it did feel silly to think of a plan of attack for a party.

The closer they got the more the noise of the banquet began to fill the halls. When they reached the hall Aren could see all the splendor of Lazzure on display. Massive hand-carved tables lined the edge of the hall. A table gilded in gold leaf at the head of the whole room. The tablecloths of gold, blue, and white covered every table. Aren couldn’t help but be distracted by the sights and smells of the room. Each table was lined with dishes containing the best seafood in all of Surren. This morning the fish had still been in the sea and now here it was, expertly prepared for eating by some of the finest chefs on dry land.

As Aren fixated on a plate heaped with his absolute favorite dish, Lazzurian blue crab drizzled in garlic and herb butter, Marchand tapped him on the shoulder. “A little meet and greet before we get to eating sir,” he said pointing to the head table. Aren’s appetite faded as he saw The High Arbiter sitting at the center of the head table in his full regalia. The golden scales stood high next to him as he surveyed all that he owned. Aren saw the seat that would be his, to the right of his father of course. It was in clear view of everyone in the room. The head table itself was of course larger and higher than any of the others in the room and on top of that, only the High Arbiter and Aren had different seats. The High Arbiter’s seat was a duplicate of his throne, drawing attention from every angle. Aren’s chair on the other hand was silver and shimmering. There was a line of diplomats, traders, and dignitaries all lined up to give their praise and thanks to the High Arbiter.

Aren in an attempt to play the part, introduced himself to each and every person in the line, shaking their hands and greeting them happily. After what seemed like an eternity of repeating the same four lines Aren reached his father. With a dismissive hand, the line of merchants and diplomats was dispersed and Aren was able to talk to his father. “My son, I am so happy to see you. I have heard that you are acclimating quite well back into the Laazzurian life. I am pleased,” the High Arbiter said at a high enough volume that all would hear. He gave Aren a big hug. Aren held back the bile in his throat and hugged his father. “Now my son, this will truly be a party to celebrate you, your return, and our return as a family. This is to show all of Surren that Lazzure is whole once more!” people around the room clapped and cheered. This may not have been his main speech, but the High Arbiter was manipulating the room masterfully.

With proper dramatic timing, the High Arbiter let the sounds die down before he began to talk to his son once more. “As such I do have some more people who would like to meet you. They are friends of Lazzure and thus they will be friends of yours.” From a small alcove behind the head table, two figures marched forward. “Allow me to introduce our friends from across Surren, This is Moren, the huntmaster of Morenseo, and Ursania, the economic advisor to the Sacrotian queen.” Aren’s eyes grew wide, he tried to collect himself, but he began to panic inside as his pulse raced.

The plan had gone sideways on him in a split second. Aren knew that Moren had been missing for a few years, this was an ominous time for him to resurface. On top of that Ursania was directly connected to Emeria. The situation had just gone from tough to dire. Somehow Emeria must have known what Aren and his friends were doing and now he was caught in the middle trying to scramble to figure out how to handle the rest of the banquet. All Aren could manage to stammer out was “It’s a… pleasure to meet you both,” as he attempted to greet them properly.