"Well, that was a bit dramatic." I remarked as I watched the last bit of Khemera's back disappear from view.
Hannah shrugged. "He has a point, though. Our generation is the worst this world has ever seen."
"So is every generation. Besides, who's this 'we', anyway? How old are you?"
"Sixteen, darlin'. And you?"
"Twenty-two!" I exclaimed before I realized how the littleness of our age difference disproved my intended point. "Okay, sure, we're sorta the same generation, but also, kinda not!"
"Ya can waltz 'round the issue like a lil girl all ya want, but I know for a fact, that all you're really doin' is avoidin' the fact that the geezer has a point."
"Listen, Hannah, I think you're too young and immature to understand what's going on here. This is a sacrifice of my precious time, and it's also a lengthy period of putting my life on the line, and what for? I don't get anything out of it, and frankly, I want to live my full life!"
Hannah pouted. "So I'm young an' immature, now? You're the one shoutin'. And besides, just like you said earlier, this would be an expedition of altruism. Hordes o' people would benefit from your sacrifices, if ya took this up."
"What have 'people' done for me? Not helped themselves out of their own mess?" In the silence that followed, I exclaimed, "Exactly! I have everything to lose and nothing to gain!"
"But that's just the point, sir! Not everythin' is 'bout you and me. Sometimes, we gotta let ourselves and our wants go on the back burner while the needs of others go front and center. Y'know what I mean?"
"I guess so...but here's the thing: I have nothing to bring to the table myself! I'm just an author!"
"I read the other day, 'great men are often born out of necessity, rather than talent'. An' I agree with that. I mean, just think o' Calwell Hankins! He was just a shoeshiner before takin' the burden upon his shoulders to lead your people into a new era of peace 'n prosperity!"
I paused for a second and absorbed the teenager's surprising wisdom. "I guess...you've got...a point there." I stammered.
Hannah grinned. "I know I've gotta point."
"But you yourself said you didn't have the skill set Khemera needs! What gives?"
"That was mah first reaction. Then I thought it over s'more, and realized, I ain't a marksman, but I gotta shotgun."
I smirked. "That's true. I wish I could say something similar."
Just then, Khemera returned. As he slid into the booth beside me once more, he slapped me brutally in the back of the head.
"Ow!" I shouted, rubbing my stinging nape, "What was that for?"
"I'm trying to get some sense in that head of yours." Khemera replied in a disgruntled tone before he began to dig into his food.
"Listen, Khemera, I'm sorry. I—"
"There's no use talking to me about it." Khemera muttered, not even bothering to look me in the eye, "Fools are gonna be fools."
I sighed. "I was wrong. Hannah here helped me see what you were saying, and I repeat, sir, I was wrong."
Khemera's eyes darted up to meet Hannah's before they drifted back down to his food. "Sorry for slapping you, then."
"Apology accepted. Now, who you should be slapping is Jedrek!"
The old man turned his head to meet my gaze, his eyes full of fire. "And why in the world would I do that?"
"Just look at him!" I exclaimed, "He hasn't relented from his selfish mentality in the least!"
"Listen, Baird, what would happen if I slapped Jedrek upside his head?"
I shrugged.
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Because he wouldn't care!"
I snorted. "That's true."
Jedrek chuckled. "I love how you guys are speaking about me as if I'm not right here."
"But are you though?" I retorted. "Are you really?"
"Of course I am. As you can clearly see. And really, now that I think of it, I might as well accompany you, Khemera."
The man raised a white eyebrow. "You just said you'd want to get paid. What changed?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought, 'why the heck not?'. I don't need any further logic than that."
I narrowed my eyes. "So you just...do stuff randomly. Got it."
"Look, are you gonna continue to question my motives, or are you gonna be glad I decided to help you?" He paused dramatically for a few seconds. "Yeah, exactly."
Khemera studied Jedrek for a few seconds, but said nothing in reply.
"So," I began, breaking the quietude, "How're we gonna work this, exactly?"
The old man coughed. "Elaborate, please."
"Well, not all of us have our 'fighting gear' so to speak, on our persons currently. For example, Hannah, you don't happen to have your shotgun with you right now, do you?"
"No, of course not. I'ma go git it before we set out."
"Okay, Jedrek, do you have what you need?"
"Always."
I turned to Khemera. "And do you have what you need?"
"I do. A true fighter is a weapon unto himself."
"Yeah, well I know I've gotta go home before we set out. So I'll tell you what: How about we all meet up at my place after gathering whatever we need?"
"Sure thang!" Hannah exclaimed, "What's your address?"
"The apartment complex on S. Bullwhip Drive. I'm at #25."
"Gotcha." Hannah replied, typing into her phone as she spoke.
"And also, what about transportation to this Iron Hallway? I wasn't allowed to bring my car."
"I don't have one, but we can walk." Khemera replied.
I furrowed my brow. "Yeah...not happening. Do you realize how far Unterstat is from here? The princess could very well die by the time we got there, on foot!"
The old man slowly nodded. "You have a point."
I turned to Hannah. "And I'm assuming you don't have a car."
"Nope."
"Jedrek, what about you?"
"I've got a truck. I'll bring it." He replied as he slipped his black hat on, "Hannah, could you move?"
"Oh, right!" She answered as she scooted out of the booth to allow his exit.
I chuckled. "I suppose I should get going too. I need to get the place in order for...visitors."
With that, I left a tip on the table, and then Khemera moved so I could leave. I walked back to my apartment with my social needs mostly met, but many questions in return. Is this really the right choice? I pondered, And even if it is, are four people really enough to accomplish this mission of ours? Is Khemera planning on recruiting more? And again, are one elderly martial artist, a teenager with a shotgun, a boring treasure hunter, and some dude who writes fiction, enough to resist forces so great? With a shake of my head, I brushed the questions away and headed back home to do the one thing I was sure about: That apartment needed to be cleaned.
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(Abigail's POV)
I jerked awake and sat up in the mysterious bed I'd been sleeping in. I frowned, because I hadn't remembered falling asleep here. I glanced at the clock and raised an eyebrow. A piece of paper was taped over the digital display. It read, "You've been here for four hours, Abby dear."
I grimaced and pulled back the covers. With a groan, I rubbed my bruised head and struggled to remember how I'd arrived here. The only thing I remembered was being dragged, kicking and screaming, into a creepy, black armored car, where that filthy man Dirk Josante waited in the passenger seat. I'd been crammed in the middle seat between two hefty soldiers and strictly ordered not to talk. At all.
I succeeded in maintaining silence for...maybe ten minutes. But when Dirk made a disparaging remark about Baird copying a plot point for his new novel from a recent movie of mine, I lost it. I don't remember what exactly I screamed at him, or whether it was even remotely repeatable in decent circles, but he didn't like it too much.
He reached back and his knuckles met my temple, at great force.
And until just now, in this strange room, everything had been black. So where I was, why I was there, and who'd taken me there, they were all questions I had yet to find answers to.
A small smile crept to my lips as I realized my phone was still in my pocket. I slipped it out and sent a quick text to Baird, only for it to bounce right back at me, with a message saying, "Your access to this number has been denied." I frowned and tried again. Same thing. Three more attempts later, my phone shut itself off and refused to turn back on.
Well, this is great! I thought.
When I heard footsteps approach my door, I quickly slid my feet back under the covers, hoping to shelter myself a bit. The door slowly creaked open and a tall, handsome man dressed in a purple shirt and well-fitted black jeans strolled in. Despite his casual attire, something about the way he carried himself made me think he was someone to be obeyed.
(Not by me, of course, but by literally anybody else.)
"Good evening, lovely." the man spoke with a surprisingly genuine smile. "You're finally awake."
"That I am." I replied cautiously, biting back the smile my reflexes told me to return to him. "Who are you? And where am I?"
The man chuckled. "I am Emperor Pietrovo, of the Alcontean Empire. And I sincerely apologize for the rough treatment you received back there. Dirk Josante is being punished severely for his unwarranted actions."
"I'm glad to hear that. But you didn't answer my second question."
"Where are you? Why, you're in my palace, and more specifically, in my bedchambers, my bed, to be even more exact."
"What?" I exclaimed, leaping out from under the covers. "I've been sleeping in your bed all this time?"
Emperor Pietrovo smirked. "You have. You've been sleeping like a baby, and an adorable one at that."
I raised my eyebrow as Pietrovo began unbuttoning his shirt. "Okay...not sure what to say to that. What're you doing, anyway?"
"I'm getting comfortable." Pietrovo slipped the rest of the shirt off his body and tossed it into a gold-rimmed bin in the corner of the room.
I tried my hardest to avert my eyes downward, but something in me kept drawing them back upward. Every muscle in his body bulged and spoke of a vitality that was...attractive, I'll admit. That's precisely the reason I struggled to keep my eyes down.
Baird would not be proud of me right now.
The shirtless emperor took one step closer to me. "Why do you look so nervous, darling? You like what you see?"
I bit my lip. "Just...put a shirt on. Then we'll talk."
I didn't see his eyebrow raise, but rather, I practically felt it as he took a few steps over to the closet. I allowed my gaze to drift upward again, and tried to not notice the toned muscles in his back. He slid the closet door open cautiously, only enough to see the shirt he was grabbing. I did see a bit of a red garment farther down the rack as well, but other than that, he kept the door's opening very narrow. He snatched a navy blue tank top from the rack and slipped it over his broad shoulders.
He slipped a padlock on the closet door before turning to face me. "Now, where were we?"
I coughed. "We were...about to discuss how you're gonna get me my own bed to sleep in, or better yet, let me go completely."
Pietrovo chuckled. "Clever girl. But I'm afraid I would quite enjoy your company."
"Eww." I said with an only slightly exaggerated gag, "No thanks. I very much value my privacy."
Pietrovo took a few steps closer to me, allowing me to get a whiff of his...admittedly nice-smelling cologne. "Are you sure about that?"
I held my breath. "I'm sure. You realize I have a boyfriend, right?"
"So Dirk reported to me. He said you're dating Baird Amergin, the writer."
"Yep."
"You know, no offense, but I don't care for Baird too much."
"Why?"
"The antagonist he wrote for his book, Fall of the King bore a chilling resemblance to me, which is quite offending. Do you realize all the horrible things he did to those poor women?"
I smirked. "I do. It doesn't sound too far out of your character to do the same. Look at you, creepily inching closer and closer to a girl who's already taken!"
Pietrovo's eyes widened and he took a step back. "I...I apologize. You're very right." He approached the door. "I'll have a room prepared for you."
"Thanks!" I called after him, smiling triumphantly.
I sighed with relief, sat on the edge of the bed, and began to patiently wait.
********************
A/N: Well, that was an interesting chapter, wasn't it? Those were some great words of wisdom from Hannah there, but I can't ignore the elephant in the room:
We got a segment from Abigail's POV! It was really fun to write that, and I'm eager to hear your thoughts on that. 😁
Anyhow, if you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to vote and leave some comments.
So, now that we've met him, what's our first impression of Emperor Pietrovo?
And I'm also a bit curious especially from my fellow writers reading this, what do you think of the pacing of this story so far?
Finally, for our random question of the day!
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[insert the drummer getting tired here]
[insert the drummer quitting and throwing his sticks down here]
Now, I know asked this in an author's note in "Hidden Things Revealed", so you can call it cheating if you want, but the crowd reading this (with an exception or two, you know who you are) is a very different one than the people who read that book. So, what's your favorite color?
(Mine is green, and the darker the better. I think that might be because I live in Washington State in the USA, and we have TONS of evergreen trees around here, and it makes the place absolutely beautiful. Coincidentally, my favorite shades of green match the trees.)
Well, I hope you have an amazing day and week ahead of you, and I will see you in next week's update! Bye! 😀👋🏻