Thinkin' 'bout Lizards

Anders Nazret

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The sun shone down upon the Plane of Conviction. The damn sun always shone down upon the Plane. There had once been lizards, who would spread themselves flat against the sandstone and absorb the heat. Ahk-Shah hadn’t seen any lizards for… how long? Without a proper day-night cycle, timekeeping was a nightmare. At least a year, the young God figured, but probably a lot longer than that. To be honest, she was surprised that they hadn’t gone extinct sooner. After all, what could they have even been eating? Sand and rocks didn’t seem like they’d make a very nutritious diet. She finished the final bit of her sponge cake and licked her fingers.

Regardless of their dietary preferences Ahk-Shah missed them. They had provided entertainment in the face of eternity, but now they were gone and she was left bored to death. Not that she could die, not in the sense most people meant anyways. But she could get so bored that she could wish for death, now that was feasible and a common occurrence. How long had she presided over the Plane of Conviction? She couldn’t really remember anything besides it, but she did remember when it wasn’t all sand and rocks and heat. Oases dotted the landscape once upon the time and her world was filled with the chittering of cute little critters. Sure, the sun was still there, but it was warm and comforting not like its current blistering incarnation.

“Oh Divine Ahk-Shah, Heavenly Adjudicator of Trials and Tribulations, this humble child of devotion beseeches thee!”

Oh, yeah, the lizards were gone but the people weren’t. They were kind of neat, she figured. Smart, industrious, little creatures barely as large as her fingertip. She ran into the lizard problem with them as well - just what in the world were they eating? Idly she scratched at her neck, pondering the intricacies of a foodless society. It was during this idle pondering that she realized her sycophant was still standing there expectantly.

“Sup little dude?” She asked, adjusting her position on the divan to something a little more professional.

Her worshiper bowed, his robes flowing out from the abrupt maneuver, “Forgive me for the intrusion Divine Ahk-Shah, Empyrean of Struggle and Strife-”

She interrupted, “Nah, it’s good, just thinkin’ about the lizards. Whatcha got going on?”

“A traveler has reached the palace, Divine Ahk-Shah…”

His diminutive voice faded into the background as he realized what he had said. A visitor!? When was the last time they had a visitor? A week ago? Probably longer than a week, maybe closer to a few years or centuries or something like that. More importantly why were they here? What was in their soul that let them go to such impossible lengths to reach her? Oh, the possibilities were as titillating as they were boundless.

“Ohhh, this is exciting news…” She blanked, drawing for the worshiper’s name.

“This one’s name is Erskil, Divine Ahk-Shah, Judge--”

She interrupted again, one had to do that or he’d keep spouting off honorifics, “Well, go and get them!”

As he scurried to leave, Ahk-Shah brushed dust from her dress. She grabbed her shawl, which had fallen beneath the divan, and after a shake, wrapped it over her shoulders. While her presentability had nothing to do with her capabilities, she still wanted to appear at least somewhat divine to the newcomer. What kind of deity would have dirt and cake crumbs on their dress? Not her - she just wiped her dress off. Wait… maybe that’s what the people ate: her cake crumbs?
 

Anders Nazret

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Anders had been walking for days(?), with nothing but the sand and sun for company. Without proper attire he expected his skin to start blistering, but found that it did not. Instead the sun simply baked into his body, causing him to sweat profusely. Were it not for the fact that any fallen sweat droplets immediately evaporated he would have had a trail back to his starting point.

How he came to be in such a place was a mystery to him as much as his purpose in said place was. He remembered perishing in that hellhole, but the events after that were a bit… fuzzy. Not that he expected anything else, having any thoughts at all after death was a pleasant surprise. Still, he couldn’t even remember when he started walking. It was as if he had simply materialized, whole of mind and body, trudging through the middle of a desert. So, what was he to do then?

So, he traveled. As the sun seemed to never set, and he had no clock with which to track the days he merely assumed he had been traveling for days. Of course, this was all relative, he realized. Perhaps it just felt like days. Regardless, he had been traveling for quite a while with nothing but sand and sun to keep him company. Alone with his thoughts he wondered if this was all there was. Endless drudgery through a wasteland seemed like a piss-poor afterlife. Was this how his crusade ended, brought low in some deathsport and forced to trudge for an eternity?

Something appeared on the horizon. The first structure he had seen since he arrived. It appeared half-submerged in sand, but it was at least something. He couldn’t help but smile at this development. Structures carried an intention behind them, something created them and it stood to reason that this meant he was not alone. His feet ached, but he spurred them forward. A bit of pain meant little to him. He had endured far worse on Cevanti. Slowly he swallowed the distance between him and the building.

It was a colonnade carved from white marble and, as he surmised, it was halfway buried beneath the sand. Intricate reliefs depicting worshipers offering themselves to deities that Anders did not recognize, covered every available surface. Sand whistled through the stone pillars, further submerging the structure beneath oh so many grains. Despite this Anders found respite beneath the temple’s angled ceiling. He crouched against a pillar. What sort of dreadful world had he fallen into?

A terrible thirst overtook him. He became aware of just how dry his skin had grown. Even his hair felt as if it had been turned to straw. How easy it would have been to simply surrender to the elements. Pain was a familiar confidant, but relaxation? Anders couldn’t remember the last time he had truly relaxed. He closed his eyes. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. Some rest would be nice.

“Hey!” Someone called out, “Wake up buddy, you don’t wanna go to sleep here.”

Anders opened his eyes and found his entire body had grown heavy. He stumbled and fell to the ground from his crouching position. The person who had roused him stood some feet away. The man had dark weathered skin and was wrapped in several layers of cream-colored cloth. Several golden eyebrow piercings caught the sun and glittered softly. Anders stood slowly, shaking the sleep from his body.

“Greetings, my name is Anders Nazret, Herald of the True Heir,” He said, straightening his back, “And you are?”

“Sirius… just Sirius, honorifics don’t mean much here,” He chuckled softly.

“Right… where is here anyways?”

“Well…” Sirius said, clearly hedging his words, “You’re dead… and this is the afterlife, well one of the afterlifes anyways.”

Anders looked around. He had always imagined the afterlife to be more… grand? There was nothing grand about some sun-bleached ruins in the middle of the desert.

Before he could ask anything else Sirius spoke again, “Yeah… that’s about the reaction everyone else has. You probably have a million questions, and I’m happy to answer them, but I need to get back to the others and make sure nobody else falls asleep… you’re more than welcome to come.”

Anders nodded. The thought of an ambush crossed his mind, but his weapons hadn’t made the trip with him so he assumed that was true for the others. Besides, he was already dead, what was the worst they could do to him? Sirius led him along the colonnade, his sandals scraping softly against the sandy marble.

“So, is this it then?” Anders asked.

“Is this it?” Sirius repeated, “Well, I guess that depends on what you mean.”
“Can I leave?” Anders asked, “You mentioned other afterlifes, can I go to one that isn’t so hot and sandy? Can I go back to The Crossroads?”

“It’s funny, everyone asks the same questions,” Sirius responded, “Rightfully so… people don’t really like leaving their loved ones behind… Yes, you can leave. But, only Ahk-Shah has that kind of power and her temple is on the other side of the desert.”

“Very well, which direction do I head?”

Sirius laughed politely, “Again, everyone's the same. Head towards the sun and you’ll find her, but it is not an easy journey.”
“No journey worth undertaking is,” Anders responded.

Anders heard the others before he saw them. Their woeful moans were carried along the wind. Dreadful, weeping cries resonated across the colonnade, not ones of pain but rather ones of abject despair. There were a dozen figures, each of them sitting or laying around in a loose circle. Their garments were varied and represented several cultures, from the pirates of Opealon to the bandits of Mesa and even the clockwork attire native to Govermorne. Sirius quickly scampered forth.

“Come on! Everyone stand up!” He shouted, “We’ve got a new arrival, come on, up up!”

Someone moaned, “Leave us alone…”

“Yeah Sirius, let us rest.” Another cried.

“God… I’m so tired…”

Sirius continued to urge them to stand. He tried to lift someone to their feet, but without cooperation the man simply fell back to the ground. Anders approached, “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’ve…” Sirius said, crouching over someone and slapping them awake, “No sleeping, come on, no sleeping.”

Anders watched as Sirius moved from one person to the other desperately trying to rouse them. They all looked so frail, so emaciated, he was surprised they were even still alive. Their flesh had shriveled. Sand covered them. Their sunken dull eyes stared blankly, barely registering Sirius’s presence. Pathetic creatures. Wallowing in their own suffering, such insufferable cretins. Anders shook his head and asked, “Why do you even bother?”

“What?” Sirius asked, looking up from a comatose man.

“Why even bother?” Anders asked, “They’ve clearly made their choice, leave them be.”

“No, no, they just need some help, come on, get up, come on,” He tried in vain to prop one of them up against a pillar, “I was only gone for a few minutes, you gotta get up.”
 

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Anders continued to watch as Sirius tried in vain to rouse his wards. None of them seemed interested beyond a token effort that vanished as soon as he moved to the next in line. Even the dreadful moans had become nothing more than catatonic whimpers. Before long all that remained was Sirius’s desperate pleading. The man fell to his knees and sighed. Anders put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Anders said, “Were they friends?”

After a long pause Sirius answered, “No, they were strangers, but I cared for them just the same.”

“Tell me, sleep is much more than just sleep here, isn’t it?”

“It is not,” He answered, “Just look at them.”

It was then that Anders realized the sand he had seen on their skin was not simply on their flesh, it was their flesh. Each of them gradually calcified, turning into dusty statues beneath the sun. A gust of wind whipped through the building, sloughing off half a man’s face. Bare viscera was exposed before quickly crusting over and turning to granules of fresh sand. Anders looked out to the desert and then to the buried edge of the colonade. A dreadful thought overtook him. Just how much of this world was covered in the remains of the dead? Just how close had he come to suffering the same fate?

“Thank you,” Anders said, “Without your intervention I would have met their fate… as far as them, well, you did what you could.”

“But it was not enough.”

“Help is wasted on the helpless,” Anders noted, “You said there was a way out of here, I’d appreciate company on the journey.”
Sirius watched as another man crumbled to dust, “I am sorry, but I must stay.”

“For what?”

“To stand watch for new arrivals,” He answered, “You said it yourself, without my intervention you would have crumbled away, what then becomes of the next person without my intervention?”

A noble pursuit, Anders silently admitted. To surrender one’s own freedom in the service of others was a laudable ambition. Still, as Anders watched the final soul disintegrate he wondered how many people Sirius had managed to actually save.

“How many souls have you seen come through here?” Anders asked, “How many have made it to the temple?”

Sirius stood, taking care to wipe sand from his attire, “I’ve seen more people crumble to dust than I ever even knew in my living days. Many that leave for the temple end up returning here and accepting their fate. I’m sure many more perish out there in the desert. As for survivors? I cannot say, I mean, how would I even know - I never hear from those that make it in the same way I never hear from those that don’t.”

“How many more must you see before you choose a different path?” Anders asked.

For a long while Sirius didn’t respond. Instead he went to each pile of clothing and set about neatly folding them. There was no sadness in his face, only a somber familiarity. Any jewelry was placed gently atop the piles, and each pile was gently placed in a row alongside its peers. Quietly Sirius recited a prayer to himself before finally speaking, “How can I leave knowing that, in doing so, I damn those that come after me?”

“Their damnation is their own,” Anders answered, “By all means, remain here and watch these milksop schmucks shrivel upon themselves. I will make the journey with or without you Sirius, and I hope you’ll have the wits to leave yourself before it is too late.”

Without another word Anders turned and stepped out from the colonade’s shade. The sun seemed slighted at his absence and intensified its efforts to cook him alive. He inhaled deeply and stretched. If the sun were to be his only companion in this journey than he resolved to make it a personal friend. To his credit, Sirius had given him hope. And, with hope, Anders could accomplish anything. Death would be nothing more than a speedbump on the road to Arcadia’s absolution.

“Wait…” Sirius called to him, the man’s voice small and distant.

“Yes?” Anders asked, turning to see the man gingerly step over the shadow’s threshold.

“I will accompany you,” Sirius said, “If only to ensure that at least one of my charges make it across the desert.”

Anders smiled, “You’ve made a good choice my friend, now let’s not waste anymore daylight, shall we?”
 

Anders Nazret

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And so? They walked. They walked together into the desert, leaving behind the colonnade without so much as a glance back. Anders fell into an almost trance-like state as he marched ever forward. Early on in his training he had developed the simple art of turning his brain off. It wasn’t anything more advanced than self-hypnosis, but it was an effective tool that he instinctively fell back upon. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Muscle memory from days of marching across Erde in the name of conditioning his body in service to the king took over. Before long everything fell away and even the heat became nothing more than a dim awareness in the back of his mind.

Marching was a form of time travel for him. Inhale, exhale, and keep moving forward. Without anyone keeping time the hours were free to smear together. Even distance was nonexistent without any landmarks to judge it by. Even their footsteps were washed away with every gust of sandy wind. Not that distance mattered. Not to Anders anyways. So long as Arcadia remained standing he would endure whatever trials whatever tribulations to see it razed to the ground. Trudging through endless miles of desert? That was nothing compared to the eons he spent frozen in stasis, helpless to do anything beyond watch the world move on without him.

“Anders,” Sirius said, “Wait for a moment…”

Anders blinked hard. His legs mindlessly tried to carry on, but he forced himself to a stop. His companion had come to a stop, falling to one knee. Sirius was bent over, holding something glittery gold in his hand. He mumbled softly. Anders called out to him, but received no response.

“Yes? What is it?” Anders asked again, crouching besides him. In his hand he held a golden piercing. He looked up and Anders recoiled. Sirius’s brow had begun to crumble away, turning to dust. Absentmindedly he rubbed at the slowly growing wound, causing his golden piercing to fall softly into the sand. Anders grabbed him and forced him to his feet, “Come on, keep walking, we can’t be much further.”

“I always thought it would hurt,” Sirius responded with a hacking cough, “But, it doesn’t feel like anything.”

Anders hoisted the man’s arm over his shoulder, “I’ll drag you if I must, but you will not fall this day.”

“I think… I think I’ll be fine…”

“You will be, once we reach the temple,” Anders answered, forcing him forward.

They continued on like this, with Anders practically dragging his companion along. In such a state Anders could not fall upon his familiar ways. Every footstep dislodged more sand from Sirius’s body, and he grew lighter with each passing moment. The sun, their guiding beacon, taunted them. It stayed forever from their reach, never waning and never growing. It continued to bake them into the earth, suffusing their skin with a terribly dry heat.

“Tell me Anders…” Sirius said, his voice dry, “How did you come to be here?”

“I fell in battle,” Anders answered. Truly the Abyss was much more than a simple battle, but he had no desire to explain the intricacies of Karl’s bloodsport. Instead he asked in kind, “And yourself?”

“Humanitarian mission on Mesa Roja, raiders ended up thinking our equipment was valuable so they came in the night and slaughtered us,” He answered and then chuckled weakly, “Even in life I wasn’t able to help anyone.”

“It would be foolish to measure your life’s value based on the actions of others,” Anders responded.

“Then what should I value it on?” Sirius asked, “I’ve accomplished nothing more than being buried in a shallow grave.”

“Effort,” He said flatly, “Even in death you’ve striven to help people, and that is admirable in and of itself.”

“And what help have I given them? Folding their clothes?”

“You gave them a chance,” Anders said, “In the end, it is their choice whether or not they squander it.”

At this Sirius fell silent. Anders expected a rebuttal, but when no rebuttal came he chose to remain silent as well. They continued their long march across the desert. Along the way they found more half-buried ruins. There were no signs of life. Anders noted that the structures seemed to be clustered with one another, as if they were entering the outskirts of some long-dead civilization. As he wondered what became of this world and its inhabitants he came to a halt.

There it was. There was no mistaking the grand temple. It was a massive pyramid, set atop a plateau of limestone. A shining gold capstone caught the magnificence of the sun and acted as a beacon for the surrounding wastes. Beauty, in a word. Even the glorious structures of Arcadia’s golden age struggled to contend with such an icon. They had arrived, and Anders wept silently. But, he could feel the dead weight clinging to his shoulder. Sirius had fallen limp. They had not shared a word for some time.

“Sirius,” Anders spoke, “Rise my friend, we’ve made it.”

There was no answer. Anders shifted the man’s weight and in that moment he realized just how light Sirius had become. Before he could speak another word the man crumbled. Without so much as a whimper Sirius had disintegrated into so many grains of sand. Another body for the desert. Anders collected his belongings and neatly folded them. He placed Sirius’s jewelry on top. He was not a religious man, nor did he know what religion Sirius subscribed to. So he merely said, “Rest easy, whatever becomes of you.”
 

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Alone Anders continued onward. The grand temple grew only more breathtaking as he approached. Beautiful depictions of eons long gone were carved into the limestone plateau. Wars were waged alongside lovers confessing for one another. Heartbreak, tragedy, and triumph were portrayed in epic mile-long reliefs. Anders slowly walked along the temple’s edge, basking in such beauty. Craftsmanship of this caliber was nothing short of divinely inspired. He dared not reach out and touch it, for it was beyond the grasp of mortal men such as himself. Instead he merely admired it as he wandered towards the temple’s entrance.

The entrance was no less lavish. Statues of ancient heroes lined either side of a polished limestone walkway. The walkway itself was wide enough to accommodate an army and tall enough that it took several minutes for Anders to make his way to the top. A large set of wooden double-doors acted as the pyramid’s entrance. Gold and emerald inlay depicted the scene of some great warrior slaying a many-headed dragon. Anders traced his fingers along the dragon’s teeth. How many stories had been lost to time? Much like Arcadia, how much history had been forgotten? He grabbed the knocker and slammed it three times against the door.

After a moment the door creaked open and a young man appeared from inside. There was a look of incredulous surprise upon his face as he regarded Anders. In return Anders fell to a knee, bowed his head, and placed a hand over his heart.

“I am here to humbly request an audience with Ahk-Shah,” He declared.

“Oh glorious days!” The man exclaimed, “Stand, please stand, you came from the desert, yes?”

“Indeed.”

“Praise Ahk-Shah!” He declared and grabbed Anders’s arm, “Come, come, I’ll let her divinity know of your arrival.”

Anders was pulled through the doors and into the pyramid. As expected it was no less impressive. Vaulted ceilings stretched high above them. Small angled ports were cut through the pyramid’s body, allowing shafts of sunlight through. Beautiful mosaics lined the floor and served as walkways. As Anders was led further through the temple, worshippers took notice and began to follow behind. They whispered amongst themselves in excited tones. His guide led him to an atrium that appeared to serve as a sort of waiting room. An ornate fountain burbled in the room’s center and elegant divans were arranged around it. Coming to a stop the man forced Anders to sit.

“Please, wait here, I’ll be back momentarily.”

Before Anders could even think to respond the man was off, disappearing behind another set of doors. In his stead several people from the crowd emerged, some of them carrying massive folding fans while others carried bowls of fruit and pitchers of wine. A cup was placed into his hand and filled with sweet-smelling drink while a bushel of grapes was dangled before his mouth. Hands massaged his shoulders and urged him to recline into the divan while the fans blew refreshing air across his sweat-soaked body.

He pushed the food away and remained sitting up, “Please, this is not necessary-”

“Relax brave traveler,” Someone said, “You’ve reached the Hall of Conviction, your pilgrimage is over.”

“Yes,” Another added, “You can rest without worry here, only those outside the temple will succumb.”

Anders exhaled. His shoulders relaxed. His stomach untightened. Finally, relaxation. But, how could he relax? How could he allow himself to unwind when his true journey was so far from finished. Again he pushed them away. “I appreciate your efforts, but please, leave me be.” Reluctantly they relented, they left the bowls of fruit and cups of wine at his feet and then left. It took some time for the crowd to fully disperse, as it did an elderly man stepped forth. Despite his age he moved smoothly, setting up an easel and canvas. Quietly he began to paint.

“What are you doing?” Anders asked.

“Painting,” The man answered simply.

“Me?”

“You.”

Anders shook his head, “But, why?”

He looked at him stupidly, “To record your arrival, of course.”

It was then that Anders came to a realization. These statues and engravings of unknown heroes weren’t from some ancient civilization. They were those who completed the pilgrimage. This temple was a monument to their successes. Their exploits recorded in the afterlife for all those that came after them. Rightfully so, Anders surmised, if Sirius was to be believed then reaching the Hall of Conviction was a once-in-an-epoch accomplishment. And if he wasn’t? Then the millions of tons of sand served as a reminder of just how many perished before him. Silently the man finished his portrait, and, seemingly pleased with his work, left. Anders’s guide returned and hurriedly ushered him into Ahk-Shah’s room.

“Oh Divine Ahk-Shah, Adjudicator of Adversity!” The man cried out, falling to his knees, “Before you stands the traveler who conquered the desert and humbly asks for an audience!”

Instinctively Anders fell to a knee before the goddess. Ahk-Shah towered over them, calling her a giant was too humble a word. She sat on the edge of a divan, observing them from high above. The entire room was built to accommodate her, and Anders figured that the majority of the pyramid was dedicated to this singular room. She hummed softly, cradling her chin. A bemused smile across her lips. She cleared her throat, and Anders felt the ground rumble.

“Sup, my guy? Gratz on making it here,” She said, “Can’t remember the last time on of you lil’ dudes made it all the way here, except the servants of course - not sure where they come from, but they’re pretty dope...”

Anders’s brow furrowed as she continued to ramble away. Before long she was into a disjointed speech about how the lizards weren’t around anymore, which she figured was weird considering the people were still around and the lizards seemed so much hardier than the people, dumber yes, but they had scales and cool little eyes and-

“Oh! Sorry,” She said, snapping out of it, “You didn’t come here to talk about lizards, did you?”

“Oh Divine Ahk-Shah, Keeper of Catastrophe, this one would be more than thrilled to listen to you speak about---”

“Shh shh shhh,” She hushed him, “Thank you for bringing me the traveler, you can leave now.”

The man besides Anders muttered a string of apologies as he turned and left. Anders raised his head and took the opportunity to speak, “Oh Divine Ahk-Shah, uhm… God of…”

“Relax, man, don’t go getting all formal on me,” She said, “For some reason the simps think they need to be all sorts of official and what not.” She leaned down and held out her hand in front of him, “Hop on dude, let’s talk face-to-face.”

With some hesitation Anders climbed up into her palm. Without a word of warning she lifted him up and the sudden acceleration caused him to fall on his ass. To her credit she didn’t come close to dropping him, but it certainly was a frightening ascent. Now at eye-level he could more clearly make out her face. She was youthful, with warm tawny skin. Her eyes were deep pools of liquid amber, friendly and inviting.

“So, whaddya think?” She asked, “Pretty swanky place, yeah?”

Anders cleared his throat and stood, “Yeah… yes, it is magnificent. I would consider very few places its equal.”

“Awh, you’re too kind,” She said, “Anyways, I’m Ahk-Shah, Goddess of this Realm, and all that good stuff. What brings you to my temple? Trying to get back home?”

“Yes, I have unfinished business in the land of the living,” Anders said, “I would be forever grateful if you were able to send me back.”

“Mmmmm,” She deliberated, “Nah.”

Anders tongue caught in his throat, “...nah?”

“Nah.”

“But… but, why?” Anders stammered, “I traveled across the desert, I reached the temple, Sirius said you had the power to send me back!”

“Oh, well, I mean, I do, I’ve got all sorts of power my dude,” She said, rolling her eyes, “Buuuut, resurrection is kind of a pain in the ass. I mean there are all these forms and documents to fill out, and permits and… and… oh jeeze, are you going to cry? Don’t cry lil dude - you can hang out here if you want.”

Anders was most certainly not going to cry. But, he did deflate. His shoulders slumped and his heartbeat slowed. Had he made this journey for nothing? His feet still ached. All of that effort and to simply be stymied by a lazy diety? Unacceptable.

“I must return, Ahk-Shah, I have a sworn duty to the memory of my people,” Anders pleaded.

“Yeah, I mean, so do a lot of people,” She said.

Anders fell to his knees and clasped his hands together. He bowed and raised his clasped hands, “Please, I will do whatever it takes to return, I cannot rest until justice is enacted.”

“Hmmm, what’s in it for me?” She asked.

What could he possibly give to a god? What did he have to sacrifice? He had no wealth, he had no possessions of value, he had nothing beyond his conviction to the cause. Even if he did, would she even accept worldly possessions? He answered, “If you return me, I will give my devotion to you. I will do whatever you request from me, complete any task without hesitation - so long as I can bring justice to Arcadia then I will offer myself wholly to your service.”

“Ohhh, maybe you can figure out where the lizards went? Or get me some ice cream real ice cream…” Her face was alight with possibilities, “So I’ll fill out all the stupid bureaucratic nonsense, resurrect you, and in return you’ll be my little errand boy?”

“Whatever you deem necessary, Ahk-Shah,” He answered, “I will be at your beck and call.”

“Hehe, sweet,” She said, “Aight, what’s your name errand-boy?”

“Anders Nazret.”

“Dope, gimme a lil’ bit and we’ll get this proverbial show on the proverbial road.”
 
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