Rick sat at the edge of the bed, blinking tiredly, heavily as he stared at the still smouldering fireplace. A fire that had been burning all throughout the night, runes of unknown hidden within the fire. Rays of sunshine peeking in through the window, tingling warmly against Rick’s skin, prickling him, telling him that morning had come.

A night Rick had spent by the bed with a little beast in his lap and a mind overrun by thoughts. Worry being at the forefront, worrying endlessly about what he should do, on what he could do, how he could save the little beast.

Eyelids heavier than boulders tugged angrily down, forcing their own agenda of sleep upon him, wanting nothing more than the sweat relief of darkness to be embraced. But how could Rick let that happen? How could he do that when more was at stake, the little beast was in danger. Sleep could be put off, thwarted like the dog that was barking for food.

But even after spending all night thinking, worrying and pondering, nothing had come from it. He wasn’t a meter closer to his goal. It felt as if he’d come nowhere, thinking on a problem that had no solution.

The city was immense, surrounded by what could be several thousand people with walls bigger than any he’d ever seen before, practically grasping the sky. Something impossible to scale. So how would Rick sneak out? How would he escape with the little beast? And how had the beast snuck in? Should he make it run for itself? But how would he even explain to the little beast that it had to get away? Why had it even come to find him here?

Rick hadn’t got the slightest clue. Problems impossible to solve, which kept him awake, made him full of worry, of dread. Sitting by the bed, held awake by thoughts unwanted, with an innocent beast lying in his lap.

A knock, powerful yet calm, bounced around the little room from the door. Rick was shocked awake, the little beast too, casting a glance at each other. A glance that was shorter than a blink but spoke more than words, the little beast quickly pushing off and sneaking underneath the bed. Rick pulling down more of the blanket to cover the bed, giving it a once over to see if anything looked off, knowing that he could do no more.

Rick looked up, up at the door that looked so far away, and took a deep breath, several even, standing up and trying to collect himself. Suddenly finding that he could not, for he could not breath properly. He needed to breathe though, but breathing growing harsh instead, then even harsher.

Rick blinked, staring at the door as he fought for breath, realising that it wasn’t just a simple door, but the door to his doom. Staring at the door felt like staring at death herself, at the mountain of doom, breathing growing impossible.

Rick knew that he had to walk to the door, open it and face what was to come. But he couldn’t. Breathing suddenly felt unknown, like a passing memory. Taking a step back in horror, gasping for breath, staring at the door as he did.

Stopped when his leg bumped into Bob’s waiting arms, hugging his leg with a force that could rival gods. The gods of tiny bears, that is.

Rick turning to look down, blinking at the sight, then quickly bending down on his knees, picking Bob up in an unsteady grasp and clasping his arms around him. The two sharing a moment, a moment that gave Rick his breathing back, gave him the moment that he desperately needed to collect himself, to calm down. To find himself again.

Another knock, followed by a “You sleeping in there?” from the voice of Brynjar. Rick tensing at the voice, hugging Bob harder, breathing in and out, calming ever further.

The hug didn’t last too long, even if he wanted it too. But it was enough, enough for Rick to come back to his senses, to realise he was the anchor in which the little beast’s safety hung on. Reality was harsh, but one needed to face it sooner rather than later.

Walking up to the door, Rick let his hand fall down on the knob, the other holding Bob to his chest. Standing still as he collected himself further, telling himself that it would work out, that Brynjar would not find the little beast, that it would turn out alright. Then opened the door.

Outside, he spotted Brynjar with four guards standing behind, one being the female guard. Brynjar himself with a raised hand, clenched as if ready to knock, staring at Rick with a helmeted and shining face. A second of silence followed by a hearty welcome.

“Toymaker! Awake at last, you look like shit though- Ugh, what is that foul smell?”

Rick forced a toothy smile in front of Brynjar, feeling awfully exposed with the four guards standing behind him. A toothy smile that faded with the exclamation of “bad smell”. Wondering what he meant, Rick turned to sniff himself and had to blink at the sudden stench, smelling of sweat, nature, moisture and death, realizing just how bad he smelled.

“That explains it, you need a bath, my dear sir, yeesh. I shouldn’t be surprised though, I believe you’ve been out in the woods longer than I have. No one get’s out of the wilderness without smelling a bit.” Brynjar said as he turned around, facing one of the guards, and spoke to them. “You, get a thrall to warm a bath, the toymaker needs a deep scrubbing.” Then turning back to Rick, the guard who was spoken to saluted before jogging off towards the church.

Rick smiling again, toothy and sweaty, feeling as if his entire body was stiffer than a plank, fiddling uneasily with Bob in his grasp. Something that seemed to pull Brynjars attention.

“I see you brought your toy. Good, good. That’s one of the things I have to ask you about, better that you have it with you when I do, might be able to give a demonstration even.”

Rick merely smiled toothily, nodding in a way that Rick presumed was normal, fiddling nervously with Bob, who smiled happily in his grasp. Brynjars helmeted face not revealing anything of what he felt or thought. Making Rick gulp down a strand of saliva as his mind screamed that Brynjar knew, knew what was under the bed.

Brynjar suddenly peeked over Rick’s shoulder and into the house, Rick freezing solid, thoughts going dark, staring in alarm at Brynjar.

“Even your room is dirty, geez toymaker, ever heard of keeping your place nice and tidy? You wouldn’t be a good priest of diligence, I have to say. We’ll need to clean that up promptly” He spoke calmly, turning around to, presumably, talk to one of the guards. Stopped by one of Rick’s hands as he placed it on Brynjars shoulder, quickly gaining his attention as Rick shook his head a little too quickly.

Brynjar leaning his body back a little, one hand going up and, slowly, easing Rick’s hand away, speaking up while doing so, sounding as calm as ever.

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“Oooh-kaay. No cleaning?”

Rick nodding even quicker, grabbing at Bob a little harder.

“Uhuh. Well, I guess everyman has their secrets. Okay toymaker, I won’t clean your room, you have my word, but when we’re done today, I’ll get one of the thralls to clean it up with you. I can’t have words spreading about the church of diligence not being diligent about cleaning. Just think of the shame that would bring.”

Brynjar stated calmly, quickly and assertively, turning around as he motioned for the entourage of armoured guards to move. Two guards taking wide steps forward, one guard, the female one, taking a step back instead, back towards the door where Rick still stood. Rick glancing nervously towards her, standing still.

“Don’t worry bout her, guarding your home is just as obvious as guarding you. They won’t clean your house or snoop around so don’t you worry.”

Brynjar said from over his shoulder, still walking forwards, gesturing for Rick to follow. Rick hesitating, glancing at the female guard who, by now, stood besides Rick, looking over at him next to the door. Staring awkwardly at each other, waiting for, something.

“Come now, toymaker, we have business to attend to.”

Brynjars words finally, hesitantly, bringing Rick away from the door, closing it as he walked away, glancing at the female guard as he did, the female guard staring back. Rick uneasily fiddling with Bob, Bob fiddling back, stomach rumbling angrily, wanting an escape from this disaster of a situation. A situation Rick felt he held zero control over.

The four people walking towards the church, Brynjar at the front flanked by the two armoured guards, Rick shuffling behind, uneasily looking behind himself at the slowly fading figure of the female guard, and new home. Each step feeling like betraying the little beast, each step feeling like loosing control of what he could do, of how he could help.

Each step making Rick feel helpless.

Soon enough, their small group came upon the church’s gate, looking more like a miniature castle within the big city, filled with guards of different amounts of armaments, a small group standing at the ready. But the gate did not stop their stride, salutes being given as they passed, Rick looking at the slowly disappearing home from around the corner, disappearing out of sight as he entered the church’s gate.

Turning forwards, he was met by the sight of a large courtyard, white and muddy, brown and slick. Littered with barrels, carriages and large boxes. An ensemble of storage littering the place in what appeared to be random places, but to Rick’s surprise, was placed in a semi-circle to encase what appeared to be a small army of people.

The small army stood half naked, feet deep in the snow that looked more muddy than snowy, holding wooden spears or swords and striking each other with a force that made the very air vibrate. Yet, it was eerily quiet, only the sounds of wood impacting wood echoing out.

“Morning training, all who thrive to become a priest of diligence, or an exemplary member, shall always thrive to be the best and most diligent person they can be. One part of that is having a healthy routine. Here at our church we provide such routines in the morning, lunch, midday and evening. You're free to join after we’ve had our talk, toymaker.”

Brynjar supplied, having stopped to stand beside Rick, staring out at the small army of half-naked people striking each other. Rick nodding meekly at the explanation, not wanting to join such an extreme form of training.

Nodding back, Brynjar gestured something that Rick didn’t see, and the two other guards walked away. Rick turning to look, but was gently ushered forward by Brynjar, a gauntleted, cold hand on his shoulder.

“Impressive, right? Brings a tear to my eye seeing such diligent people within my church. But we have things to do, so let’s not dawdle around like two ducks in a pond. Or is it chickens?”

Rick felt himself guided forward, forward towards what appeared to be a stone wall. Coming closer, he noticed that it wasn’t a stone wall, but two enormous stone doors. Looking up, he had to strain his eyes to see where the door ended and the “church” began. Being far too subtle, wondering why but finding it hard to care, mind still stuck in its endless cycle of worry.

As they came within knocking distance, Brynjar walked in front of Rick and placed a gauntlet hand on the stone door. A second later, the door lit up with white lines encasing what Rick had guessed to be the door. Another second, it slowly started to bend inwards, exposing a brightly lit inside with many people running one way or another. Mostly clothed in that same simple brown tunic that the young man had worn, only seeing one guard by the side of the door, saluting upon seeing Brynjar and Rick.

Walking past the guard, Brynjar walked confidently forward, the people walking past quickly moving aside, saluting as they did, keeping a respectful distance from Brynjar. Brynjar then stopped mid-stride as he noticed that Rick hadn’t followed, still standing by the stone door.

Rick stood there, for he was staring up at the ceiling, having accidently glanced up, seeing a mosaic image fitted in by coloured stones. An image that portrayed an almost exact replica of his little beast, albeit larger, far larger, with wings and breathing fire out of its mouth. And in front of it, stood a knight in shining armour, striking the dragon down.

“You like it? Hehe, that’s me, had it commissioned before my fight with the dragon, though it would have been awkward if I had lost.”

Rick did not nod, not shake, or do anything to respond, lost in his mind as he stared at the mosaic. Brynjar seemingly taking his inability to respond as something else entirely.

“Yeah, I know, I’m kinda a big deal around here. But every champion is. I mean, who else can do feats such as, that.” He said, pointing up at the mosaic. Then turning around and speaking up.

“Now let’s hurry to my private chamber, I’ve already prepared a morning meal for us so it would be a waste to not eat it. I do like good company while eating, and it would be a waste to not use the opportunity to ask you my questions, two stones in one bird! As they say. Or do they? Hmmhmm, I'll have to ask someone about that.”

Rick finally turned down to look at Brynjar, doing so not from reason, but reaction, mind faltering with the accumulating fatigue, fear and overwhelming sensation of a loss of control, having broken slightly at the sight of the mosaic. Having seen it was like pushing a finger into an already overflowing glass, like pushing that last pebble over the edge to cause the avalanche.

So his body did what it did best, and took control, pushing him forward as he finally followed Brynjar. Brynjar none the wiser, turning forwards again and walking with confident and calm steps.

Walking past seemingly endless doors in corridors that seemed to snake impossibly much for what looked, on the outside, like only an extensive building. Walking for a minute before they came upon a very uninteresting door imprinted with a rune Rick did know, giving back some clarity to Rick’s mind, staring intensely at the rune.

The rune was the rune of Perthro, a rune Rick hated most of all.

Clarity brought from hatred and memory, standing outside the door as Brynjar slowly opened it, walking inside and holding the door for Rick. Rick not budging, staring at the rune with his fatigued mind, not realizing that Brynjar was waiting for him.

“Oh, don’t worry bout that little thing. As this is my private quarter I wouldn’t want people listening in. The rune simply prevents sound from entering, or leaving. Just a ward to, ward off, eavesdroppers. I doubt there are any in my church, but you can’t be too diligent.”

Brynjar spoke calmly, still waiting for Rick to enter. Not waiting long as Rick shook his head, looking as if remembering where he was and letting his head fall low while he walked past Brynjar into the small room.

A small room that smelt wonderful, filled with bread and what appeared to be a warm mug of a delicious smelling drink. Rick eyed the food and drink, looking back on Brynjar who closed the door behind them, gesturing with his hand as he spoke.

“Take a seat, the food isn’t gonna eat itself. I’ve already eaten.”

A little hesitantly, Rick sat down, picking at the food, finding that even his bottomless stomach was having a hard time eating, Rick forcing the food down anyway. Looking at Brynjar as he walked around the table to the opposite side, pulling out a drawer and putting what appeared to be paper and a pen on the table.

“Now that we’re safe, I’ll be honest with you, toymaker. This question has been burning at the back of my head for what feels like the very first moment I heard of you and your, toys. And I get it if you don’t want to answer me, but I’d be highly, HIGHLY thankful if you did.”

He leaned forward; the table creaking ominously with his shifting weight.

“How do you make your toys?”