Rogues of The Story

Chapter 2: Castle of the Guardians

When Philip's vision cleared, he and Miriam were no longer standing in the Story room at his mansion. Instead, they were in a grey-stone room with a single door. The only furnishing in the sparse and dull room was a pedestal, housing the Guardians' Story Book. The heavy wooden door was locked, but not for much longer. It swung open and one of the Guardians came in. "Hey, Peter," Philip said to the Russian Guardian. "Having fun yet?"

Peter narrowed his dark eyes at him. "Da," was his quiet answer. "Are you prepared to be written into The Story?"

Philip grinned. "They like me too much to do that."

Peter turned to Mimi. "I would have hoped some of your common sense would have rubbed off on him," the burly Russian said.

Mimi sighed. "Don't hold your breath. He's too stubborn."

"If you're ready, then," Peter replied, dismissing the subject of Philip actually gaining some sense. The two followed the Russian Guardian through the door and into the wide hallways. The plush red rug always felt cushy beneath Philip's feet, illuminated by crystal chandeliers on the vaulted ceilings. Massive windows looked out over the green, expansive gardens filled with plants from all around the world. Guardians paced the halls, some reading, others hurrying as if they had somewhere to go. There was a strange mixture of modern clothes and clothes from The Story, including some from the Arabian Stories and Greek Stories.

Peter seemed to have little interest in any of these. He walked purposefully, and Guardians scampered out of his way. Many of them were sending Philip glares, probably assuming he was the cause of all their problems. That was unfair of them to assume; he hadn't caused all the problems in The Story. Just some.

"Byli zdes," Peter interrupted Philip's train of thought. They had stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door that Philip knew housed the most powerful Guardians of all. Two were a father and son, descendants of the Brothers Grimm. The father was called Dmitri Grimm and the son, Ernst Grimm. The other two were the descendants of Hans Christian Andersen, siblings Noah and Emma Andersen. As the most powerful German and Danish Guardians respectively, they were the rulers of the Guardians with Dmitri as their leader.

Standing outside of the room with those four Guardians, Philip felt a dry spot in the back of his throat. Bravado or not, he still got anxious when he was summoned before them. There was always a chance, no matter how small, that they would decide to eliminate him. Faking a confidence he certainly didn't feel, Philip gave Mimi a thumbs-up before putting his hand on the knob. "Well, here we go; I'm going to get written in."

"Don't even joke about that!" Mimi scolded him. "Just ... come back out, alright?"

He gave her a grin before going inside. He heard Mimi's last words before he went inside, not directed at him, but spoken to Peter. "He's going to die," she said.

On that positive note, he closed the door and faced the room beyond. Seated at a circular table were the four Guardians. The Andersens Emma and Noah were whispering to each other. They were nearly impossible to tell apart, aside from the fact that Emma had long blonde hair and Noah's was short. They fixed Philip with their watery blue eyes, like beacons from their milky-white skin. Beside them was Ernst, thirty-years-old, about the same age as the Andersens, with light brown hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. Both he and his father Dmitri were thinner than sticks, their clothes hanging off of them like they were hangers. Dmitri had white hair, but his shiny white scalp was visible through his numerous bald spots. Philip stood in front of them, straightening his shoulders unconsciously. "Philip Andric," Dmitri Grimm said in his strong German accent. "We meet again. How long has it been this time? A week?"