WingWard

Our, Dear Useless Advisors (Mortskys)

"My Lord-and Mortsyks, several disappearances have occurred over the last two weeks, you cannot stand around idle you must do something!"

Advisers, such a pain, there's five of them on either side of the throne where King Dean sits, always squabbling, always complaining.

"What will the people think when they hear that their great King Dean sleeps in his throne while his subjects are vanishing!"

It's a miracle Dean still has the ability to hear, especially with that pathetic human Markus Idol lecturing as he does.

"Young man, may it not have occurred to you that I have already acted?" Said King Dean.

"We'll go on," continued Markus.

"I was discussing it with Mortsyks yesterday, we determined that the best course of action would be to have our underground militants patrol the streets, in disguise of course."

"Since when did we have underground militants?"

"My dear, useless advisor," said Dean in a calm manner, "all of our militants are underground in one way or another and always have been."

"And exactly why wasn't I informed of this?!" Squeaked Markus.

"Why would I inform you?" Mumbled Dean half heartedly.

I think for once Markus Idol didn't have anything to say, his jaw must be hanging half open trying to grasp some words. I smiled at the thought.

"Now is there anything else before you bore me to death with talk of taxes?"

One of the other advisers mumbled nervously.

"Do I need to remind you my ears aren't as good as they once were? Speak up Larry."

Larry was always the shy one, the nervous one, the annoying one.

"Um... I don't mean any offence b-but what good is it to have an e-Eternal dragon around if it's always sleeping?" Stuttered Larry.

Oh! I must have my eyes closed, I didn't even notice, the advisors are so dim it makes everything hard to see, oh well, might as well let them think I care about what they're saying.  I open my eyes.

"See, she's not asleep, she can hear you fool," snapped Markus.

He managed to catch some words, good for him, in the meantime there's a thousand underground militants being a hundred times more useful.

                                                             =*=

It was pitch black in the alleys at night, you could see the cobblestone road beneath your feet but that was all.

Tseaf likes the darkness, he stands there, smiling,  the bright yellow of his eyes glinting like they belong to a demonic cat.  Unlike him I don't like the dark, it terrifies me, it's always hiding something. I wish I could actually tell him, in my own words, what a terrible plan this is without doubling over and spewing blood.

He can tell I don't like it, but it's obvious he thinks it's the only thing we can do. As usual he thinks we don't have a choice, that this is the only possible thing to do about him.

"Hurry up Esruc," muttered Tseaf from somewhere in the blackness. "We're almost there."

Easy for you to say, as far as I can tell, there is only further darkness up ahead.