The days, the months, the years, he slowly spent losing everything surfaced before him. He fought each moment to alter the events, but his efforts were in vain. He resigned himself to watching what time could not wash away. It infuriated him how the struggle for his home was so vivid and clear, yet not a single scene nor memory of his home came forward.

Now everything had changed, yet nothing was different. The girl was nothing to him; he was unsure if he could even call her a friend, but could he leave her to become like the rest? He could not. He had done much more for lesser people. To do this, for someone like her, was nothing.

Everything was different, yet, at the same time, nothing had changed. To do what he must now, he will do what he once did again.

“Wake up already, ya bloke!” Several slaps to the face roused Suran. The voice continued in disgust, “Eyuck, the guy is already sweating, and we haven’t even done anything yet! Is there a towel around here?”

True to the man’s words, cold sweat beaded all over his face. Suran instinctively tried to move his hand to wipe his face, but both of his hands were tied together behind his back. His vision finally came into focus – there was not much to see. He was tied to a chair bolted to ground, he could see that much, but the entire room was dark; a dim yellow light overhead illuminated only him, leaving the rest of the area shrouded.

Even though he could not who was around him, he could hear them moving about. Cabinets and drawers were being rummaged through, metal objects clanging and rattling against each other, and low whispers.

Then a clap.

“Alright then! Let’s get this show on the road – no time to waste after all.” A familiar face stepped into the light. It was the well-dressed man from the warehouse, this time sporting a black suit. He rolled a toothpick around in his mouth and spit it out, “I assume you know why we’re all here.” The man inched in close to Suran’s face with a devilish grin.

Suran neither responded nor flinched, staring right back into the man’s dark eyes.

The man pulled away and chuckled lightly, “Not a talker?” He pulled away back into the shadows, “Let’s see if we can’t fix that.” A snap of a finger and two musclemen walked out from the shadows. “I’m not a patient man, so I’ll ask you one more time before having my friends here help you,” the voice circled around Suran. “Do you know why you’re here and what’s going on?”

Suran’s body was still sore all over from the one-punch from Sammy, especially his abdomen. He needed to find a way out, and until then, he opted to play along. “I assaulted your warehouse. You killed everyone then left me to fight ‘Sammy’.”

The two men looked at each other in unease. A moment later Suran heard metal objects thrown off a table violently.

“God dammit, not again! Why the hell does this ALWAYS happen?!” The dressed man rushed back into the light, obnoxiously close to Suran’s face, “Do I really look like that damned brother of mine?!”

Now that he had mentioned it, Suran realized something was off. Black stubble covered his face, he was lacking a tie, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. His rugged look was a far cry from the picture-perfect attire from yesterday.

The musclemen on the right of Suran spoke up, “Well, Clyde, I mean you guys are twins after all...”

“Oh shut up, Lewis!” Clyde barked back. “We may be twins, but we have nothing in common.” He began storming around the room in a fit, “Who was always picked first for Duelynball? He was! Who was the one talented at magic? He was! Who was mother’s favorite child? He was! And, do you know who the oldest is? I bloody am! How is any of this fair, huh? The oldest gets shafted all the way to hell!”

The muscleman Lewis leaned in towards Suran and whispered to him, “Sorry about this. Clyde tends to get worked up sometimes, especially when you mention his brother...”

“Lewis, I said SHUT UP!” A wrench flew through the air and clunked him on the head. Lewis winced then began to rub the point of impact with a frown.

Clyde rambled on, “You know, he gets to be the talented one, join the ‘Terrible Ten’ – bloody stupid name by the way – and gets to roam around the world doing all the fun stuff, and I get to stick around here and baby sit you fools! I’m nothing more than a glorified babysitter! Who has to bend over sideways keeping all these garbage Lords in order? I do! And don’t you even get me started on handling that crabby old, Hendrick – that stupid broad of Sammy’s better tide him over for now. Not to mention all the scheduling work I have to do! I have to maintain the docks, keep inventory of the grain, collect payments, and this list of shit I have to deal with goes on and on and on and on and on. Thank god my brother left, on the ship I had to arrange by the way, or I would have gone out and found him right now just to clobber him” Clyde took a deep breath and sighed. “My brother gets to go out and be the important one, one of the most feared criminals this side of Mazurka, and what do I get? Manager duty.” A short pause came from Clyde, ushering in silence. “It’s just not fair,” he concluded.

He cleared his throat, “Enough of that. I went on for too long.” Clyde remerged from the shadow dragging a chair. He spun it out in front of him, plopped down on it, and rested his arms on the headrest, staring at Suran. “Now do us all a favor and answer my questions so we can get out of this stupid hole.” He raised up one finger, “First, why were you here last night?”

“To rescue Annabelle.”

“Sure, sure you were.” Clyde shifted in his chair. “Several days ago there was a riot out in the markets.”

“Was there?” Suran knew probably exactly what he was talking about. He accidentally stirred up a riot by questioning sellers about grain prices.

“Yes, yes there was, and you were there. What were you doing out there?”

Suran said nothing.

“What are your connections to Lord Reginald, hmm? Why were you visiting him so often?

“For Annabelle.”

Clyde shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Then how about why did you target Shroom?”

Silence.

“Look here, whatever-your-name-is, there are two ways we can do this: the easy way and the hard way. I’m not a patient man unlike my stupid brother, so I’ll only give you one more shot at this. Who is it that you are working for?”

Nothing.

“For the love of” – he abruptly stopped in frustration – “What do you know? Do you even know anything?!”

Suran tilted his head slightly.

Clyde threw his arms up and jumped out of the chair. “I don’t know what you are accomplishing here.” He went back into the dark of the room and began rummaging around. A clang noise came out then a yelp, “Who the fuck left this on the ground? God damn my toe…” A moment later the lights flipped on. “That’s much better. Whose idea was it to turn this off again? Lewis, was it you?”

Lewis shook his head, “No, it was Pyff.” He pointed to the other man standing silently.

With the lights on, Suran could see that they were all in a small, simple room. Metals tables were lined up against the wall topped with all sorts of tools. Clyde was going through a table. On that table Suran could see the form of his sword.

“Now where is the paper…” Clyde was going through all the cabinets and drawers.

“What you need paper for?” Asked Lewis.

“Well, since this guy won’t say anything, I’m just going to assume he knows everything. Like come on, how stupid does he think we are? All the grain business he was involved in has no other explanation. Better send out some letters, especially to that crone Hendrick.”

Apparently Namnoc thinks that he was involved in potential espionage or sabotage involving the grain industry, Suran concluded. Whatever Suran did spooked them; they felt he was close, or getting close to discovering their operations involving grain. Alarmed enough to immediately send out communication at the very least.

Next to Clyde was a metal door, the only visible exit to the room. Suran evaluated his situation. Right now, his hands were tied, but that was it. While the chair he was sitting on was firmly bolted to the ground, he wasn’t actually secured to it. An oversight by Namnoc.

Clyde was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, “You know, you can still tell us everything, make it easier on everyone involved. I hope you understand you aren’t leaving here alive – a small formality. It’s up to you to decide how you go out. Either way, you’re locked in here with us!” With the swish of a pen, Clyde held up his document happily, looking it over. Satisfied with the result, he began to roll it up to place in a container sitting on the table

“You are making one mistake.” Suran calmly said.

This elicited a light chuckle from Clyde, “And what would that be, guy-who-just-now-decided-to-talk?”

“I’m not locked in here with you. You’re locked in here with me.”

Clyde dropped the container on the table and began laughing. He turned around with a stupid grin and jeered at Suran, “That is the stupidest thing I’ve heard all day – maybe all week! It’s like some ridiculously cheesy line you’d hear at one of those nonsense action thrillers down at the theater.”

Unfortunately for them, this was no jest. Suran broke through the rope, abusing the slack in the knot. He instantly jumped out of the chair and elbowed Lewis in the face. Pyff jumped on Suran, but he held him up and tossed him right at the surprised Clyde, knocking him down. In a flash, Suran grabbed his black sword and unsheathed it.

Lewis, Pyff, and Clyde were all on their feet already, everyone armed with swords but an annoyed Clyde.

First to strike was Pyff. Suran spun out from the downward strike and cut Pyff’s jugular in the rotation. Pyff dropped his sword and grasped for his throat as he fell face-forward toward the ground. Surprise flashed on Clyde’s face, then raised his eyebrows as if he was rethinking his calculations.

Lewis was not shaken by the death of comrade. He readied himself, then charged in at Suran. His first jab was knocked away and his second slash met the same fate. His third and final attack was parried, and Suran casually drove his sword into Lewis’ chest.

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to get good help these days?!” Clyde shouted, obviously not fearing for his life. “And how in the hell did you break out of that rope? Do you know how much I spent getting that specially made and enchanted? Better not come out of my goddamn paycheck.”

Suran squared off in front of Clyde and spoke without emotion, “Your first mistake was underestimating me. Your second one was not tying me properly to the chair.”

Clyde shrugged and stepped towards the door. “Yeah… maybe I should not have underestimated the guy that got out of a fight with Sammy without broken bones. Oops.” He stood without any panic or fear overcoming him. “Well, I get to use this at the very least. They all told me it was a waste, but who is laughing now, ey?! Anyways, I said you weren’t getting out of here, alive or dead. Stick around and you’ll get to see what I mean~,” he concluded with a slight sweet, musical tone to his voice. He brought up his hand and waved at Suran tauntingly, “Cya.”

The ground beneath Clyde jolted out of the ground, lifting him towards the ceiling, lifting him through an opening in the ceiling. He was gone in an instant, and now a stone wall stood right front of the door. Drains from the ceiling opened up, and water began to slowly pour out into the room.

Suran was not alarmed, not even slightly. He strolled over to the metal desk and looked through it. The letter Clyde had written was still there, so he took it. Slowly, the water reached his ankles. He strode through the rising water toward the stone wall blocking his path.

He cocked his sword over his left shoulder, and swung it right at the rock formation. The sword didn’t cut through the rocks; his black sword smashed the stone apart, sending rock splinters spewing everywhere. Strength he used to have and strength he never had trickled through his veins.

Stepping over the rocks, he popped open the metal door and walked through. He would allow nothing to stand in his way again. He walked through the dark cave to the sound of crashing waves.