Within a room at a beautiful inn is Tina and Dean. Tina is sitting at a desk typing on a typewriter and Dean is sitting on one of two beds. A Iarlan nurse is treating his bandaged broken arm. A beautiful and bustling rich city is visible through the open window.
Tina: (The crazed Veguhl was hellbent on destroying everything in his path. But the braze Dyrkcen Bounty Hunter was more determined--)
Dean interrupts her train of thought by hollering. She sighs and continues.
Tina: (And he performed a miracle by not only saving innocent lives, but clipped the wings of the terrible Demon of the Storm single-handedly--)
Dean interrupts her again and she jolts around with a perturbed look.
Tina: Oh would you quit hollering?! I’m trying to type our report here.
Dean: Hey, let’s see you try to be as quiet as a mouse with a broken arm.
Dean hollers again as the nurse tries to gingerly treat his arm. Tina sighs.
Tina: This is your own fault you know. If you weren’t so cheap you could have saved yourself all of this agony by hiring an Iynvyk Caster.
Dean: No thank you. I’ve heard too many scam stories to bother. I’d rather have some kind of idea what the doctor is doing to me. Even if it takes a little longer to get patch up. But if you ask me this job just isn’t worth the trouble anymore.
Tina: Oh you don’t mean that. I know you love a good scoop as much as any natural born reporter.
Dean: No scoop is worth a broken arm. We haven’t even encountered the dangerous rascal king and I’m already in need of repair. You know what? Forget it, I’m through. There’s no telling what will happen from here on out. Tomorrow morning I’m taking the first ferry back to Avalith.
Tina materializes two embroidered envelopes and subtly waves they in front of Dean with a smug look.
Dean: What’s that?
Tina: Oh nothing much, just two invitations to Queen Amelia’s royal banquet.
Dean suddenly sits up, amused.
Dean: Royal Banquet?
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Tina: That’s right. Mr. Bail pulled some of his long strings to get us these magical rare passes to a beautiful ethereal banquet of a queen.
Dean smiles as Tina slowly motions to give him an envelop.
Dean: You don’t say?
Tina snatches the envelop away before Dean can reach for it.
Tina: But since you’re planning on quitting I guess I’ll just have to hold on to this and go alone.
Dean: Now hold on now. You didn’t tell me about this before.
Tina: But I thought you said--
Dean snatches the envelop from her.
Dean: Forget what I just said, I’m gonna go to that banquet first, and then I’ll quit. I think I deserve it after all I’ve just recently been through.
Tina frowns.
Tina: (It’s probably best I don’t tell him that King Loc and the Zoh-Gyn Kenjiro were invited as well.)
----------------------------------------------------------
Overseeing Irikihl from deep space is an invisible futuristic space colony called the Blavyk Star. Within the Blavyk Star is a windowed conference room that contains twelve large chairs situated around a donut shaped table. At the center of the table in its opening is a large round and pulsing red dragon’s eye. The planet Irikihl is large, bright, and visible through the windows.
Sitting at five of the twelve seats are Elder Ozma, Elder Yadaya, Elder Gabriel, Elder Masharathyaha, and Elder Alcimus. They are all fully clad in heavy Massadan Armor, which masks their faces. The other seven seats are empty.
Elder Ozma: I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before the Vu-Zyrr is reawakened.
Elder Yadaya: That Aeon will rend Irikihl asunder.
Elder Masharathyaha: And its thirst can only be quenched with our blood.
Elder Alcimus: The vacuous son of Hezekiah knows nothing of this world or what it would mean to slay the great Queen of Queens. Even if he were to achieve the impossible by availing in his endeavors he would quickly grow mad from learning the truth of this world.
Elder Ozma: Aye, but who’s to say the Witch Tier can’t dispel that impending madness?
There is a collective sigh in the room, followed by a brief pause.
Elder Gabriel: That damn Witch Tier. Why did The Will have to awaken her?
Elder Alcimus: Remember Gabriel, we no longer deal with that forsaken god. And as long as the Angel of Ages slumbers we will continue to fulfill our duty to oversee the development of Massadah.
Elder Masharathyaha: Do you still propose that we execute Prince Gideon?
Elder Alcimus: No. Somehow he’s grown too strong to be killed through normal means. It still amazes me that we were all blinded to his whereabouts.
Elder Yadaya: There is more than one way to assassinate a man.
Alcimus chuckles.
Elder Alcimus: His body may be strong, but his name like any is most fragile.
Elder Yadaya: Through which we will plant the seeds for another insurrection in Massadah.
Elder Ozma: I’m certain Queen Haven will deal with him before long. And we’d best do our part to make that as smooth of a task for her as possible. But our main concern should be having the Witch Tier destroyed. That artifact holds too many secrets, and it is only a matter of time before they are unwittingly revealed.
Elder Alcimus: I believe we all can agree to that Ozma. Our unlovable young fool of a king must never regain his memories, or else it would mean the end of everything.
Chapter End