The Rokian stopped to look at Pope, silently thanking him with a nod of his head. He was sad but he couldn't feel any anger towards the young man... being seemingly understood by the younger trader, gave him some hope. The Rokian sat down and wiped off his tears.

Samson though, didn't care at all about what a Rokian might want or think: the beast was going to be his meal ticket, end of the story. A moment later, coming from the creature's blind spot, he savagely kicked him in the head, making him pass out on the spot.

-And stay down, mother f*****!

Without wasting time Samson staggered back to the cart on his injured legs, biting on his lower lip and quite sweaty. He reached for some enchanted rope that once knotted, could only be undone by the same person with magic; with it Samson tied the Rokian so tight the rope was sure to bite into his skin. Looking around, he found his young partner, which looked like he had kind of lost his wits. While inwardly livid, Samson asked

-Did I really just hear you say you were done, boy? Now, what could you possibly have meant by that, huh?

-I dunno, Samson... that guy, he... I think he is “smart”. Have you seen how he behaved? He doesn't want to come with us.

Pope answered uncertain, turning to look his partner in the eyes, scared, but not yielding to his overbearing presence.

-I see. I get the feeling that this might be a problem for you, Pope... and I get it, you are young, but stupidity, that is something that I might have a big problem with. Look at what that beast has done to me!

Samson was struggling quite a bit: he was stopping the bleeding on his neck with the first aid enchantment he always kept in his pocket, but the Rokian had fractured his left knee with a kick, something only a hospital could take care of. The old looking man somehow managed to kneel down near the Rokian. Once there, he took, the creature's chin in his hand and pulled up.

-Now, look here and tell me, knuckle-head: what do you see, huh? A man?

-I think so...

-Well, think again, damn it!

He sounded angrier than Pope had ever heard him

-This is a thing of trade! Just a damn thing! No more, no less! Now, he might have some sort of brain, and that is strange, but who the hell cares? A damn frogman remains just that: a silly thing for men to do how we please. Will I lose any sleep upon this one? No! I could kill it here and now and no one would give a damn, look!

Samson took the Rokian's head and pushed it hard into the soft dirt until half of it had disappeared.

-No buts, no ifs...

Pope was too shaken up to answer with more than an unconvincing short nod.

-Get it on the cart and let's get out of here, nerd! I need a healer for this mess.

He spat on the ground; there was a little blood too. While going back to his sit, he kept on swearing about his pain, before grudgingly starting to chew on some analgesic fruit that looked a lot like a coconut.

Evening was coming fast and it would have been unwise to keep on moving the cart for too long. The closest town was Yeokia, forty kilometers from where they were at the moment. Too much road to burn before night fall, which was twenty minutes away at best.

Wolves, mountain cats, and night birds were too much trouble to face after what had happened already.

No, that night their campfire had to suffice. The few minutes they spent turning wheels after Pope carried the small Rokian on board passed in total silence, except for a louder swear chant Samson aimed at pretty much anything now: the road, the Rokian, the night...

They stopped in a clearing just a little off the road. Samson waited for Pope to unload the cargo, then pressed the button on his side of the cart which transformed it in a small cottage. A little technology and a lot of simple magic. Needless say, Samson wasn't happy: not only he had a few broken bones that were going to slow down his business and cut into his profit, but he had that bad feeling... about the beast and also about Pope.

He could feel the same bad taste in his mouth as the last time he had to get rid of his business associate. Pope had indeed lost it: he was more concerned about a Rokian than he was with him. What could that ever tell him about that silly, silly boy? Samson spent good part of that evening inside the cottage, with a slow burning purple magical fire and a few succulent slow roasting sausages.

At the same time, the man was slicing through layers of wood from an oak look-alike tree branch he had dragged inside, trying to shape a decent enough long cane, with a bulgy, heavy head.

Pope instead, on the cold outside, couldn't help but look after the little creature he had refused to kill while wondering on his choices. His dinner was going to be a meager floppy ham sandwich.

Gnawing at the slightly rancid meat he questioned himself.

What had gone wrong? When the need had arisen, why couldn't he finish the job? Wasn't he man enough? Was he not eager enough? Was there really something wrong with him? Or was he not the one in the wrong at all?

Those and many other questions kept on chasing each other in his brain, while at the same time, he felt a soothing sensation coming over him, due to a pleasant smell of Samhal that, he could swear, was coming from the Rokian. He really had felt sorry for the little thing when Samson had stepped on that pretty Samhal flower.

That frogman was a continuous source of head scratching. The Rokian himself was still to return in the reign of the living due to the strong kick he had taken to the head... Pope shook his own head, before dozing off, without having finished his dinner. He was not rich and that sandwich was going to be his breakfast as well.

Poor, trustworthy Pope.

But, indeed, where had our sleepy main character wandered off to, within his sleep?

He really didn't know himself. He had been in a complete painful darkness for a long while, before starting dreaming.

He wasn't in a place he could recognize, not by sight, sounds, or smell.

He was inside a guard post, made of wood, on top of walls which encircled what looked like an entire city... he wasn't sure about this, because no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't able to turn his head. Whatever was happening, he wasn't in control of this.

He wasn't happy, that he understood. Looking at the the road which snaked its way through the mountainside underneath the city, he could see a bunch of weird creatures, humans it seemed, coming closer. Indeed he wasn't happy... Nor was the rest of his platoon, all made of tall and muscular veteran looking Rokians, swearing under their breaths and commenting in angry whispers

-The prince has done it now: filthy aliens! Getting in bed with those humans.

-The commander told him not to.

-Yeah he he is a spineless idiot. Never been to war and already leading! I swear the king must have gone senile!

In front of the walls, just a few steps from the huge open door, was a short male Rokian, a heavy diadem on his head, bouncing from one foot to the other, excited by the arrival of those human visitors.

Not our Rokian though... He too hated humans. Especially the seven humans which were leading the delegation on that windy spring day.

They brought with them the smell of violence, greed and lies... And even worse. Alas, he was the personal guard of the royal prince, a war hero, or something like that, forced to look after the brainless royal brat.

-Feed your mellow manners and lies to the prince humans... But I won't let you destroy this world, I swear, I...

He couldn't finish his sentence. He was awake, all tied up, his head hurting like crazy still. He opened his mouth, with a rough click that made him wince as his mandible popped back in place. The left part of his face felt puffy and sore: that had to be the place he got hit to. He opened the one eye he could and saw the man named Pope sleeping at his right side, snoring a little.

It looked like morning wasn't too far off. From inside the cottage, Samson was grunting like a bear: now that was a fierce snoring. The moon, in the sky was small and far, but Rokians could see in the dark, as previously mentioned.

The pain he felt was numbing him a little, but still he felt quite happy about what had happened while he was asleep. He had dreamed! And he remembered it well. So well he could still feel some lingering anger. He kept looking around: all was calm. Too calm, in fact... not even the morning birds were singing. Now, that was a real bad sign. Finally he found what he was looking for when his good eye caught sight of a big cat-like creature called Tiganga.

The famished looking animal was on a tall tree, not too far from them, looking at Pope like he was a juicy spare-rib. The Rokian sighed heavily: one unhappy encounter after the other! He felt really lucky...