This is an unfinished story I wrote back in september 2016. I pasted it here in case anyone might find it interesting.
The Queen of Hugs meets the Queen of Shrugs
“Your majesty! Royalty from the kingdom of hugs has come to visit!”
“Uh, I guess, maybe, kinda.” The young squire immediately let go of all enthusiasm and exhaled. “She’d like an audience, if it’s cool with you.”
“Tell her whatever.”
“Okay, your majesty.” The adequate door through which the squire was poking his head made a muted thumping sound as he disappeared.
The middling brown-haired queen returned to writing an important but inconsequential letter, as she had nothing better to do, when she heard a massive ear-ringing shriek. Somewhat concerned, she sauntered towards the usual window, through which she always looked on the rare occasion that something out of the ordinary happens. A beautiful blonde girl stood wailing over a fallen ice cream as some passers-by glanced for a second before shrugging and moving on. She was surrounded on all sides by four knights, each wearing a suits of armour that had a big, sunny smiley face painted on the chest piece. The men inside didn’t seem to be so cheery at the weight, but appeared content to soldier on. The atmosphere surrounding the young girl seemed brighter than that of the indifferent onlookers. Another girl, this time an antiquated grey-haired woman, produced a second strawberry flavoured ice cream cone, which seemed to please the young girl immensely.
“Guess the Queen of Hugs has arrived,” thought the Queen of Shrugs, shrugging at the scene. The Queen of Hugs jumped for joy and hugged the old lady.
The Queen of Hugs and her entourage moved forwards towards the entrance of Shrug Castle. Blocking the entrance were two young lightly armoured men standing side by side. The Queen of Hugs stood to the front of the company, but the effect was lost as the Queen was half the size of everyone.
“Halt!” The man on the left exclaimed.
“…Or whatever.” The other man finished.
“Our magnificent Queen has a message for you, O Queen of Hugs!”
“…” The man on the left gently nudged the other man. “Uh… Yeah.”
The Queen of Hugs opened her mouth and the old woman pushed her way to the front, interrupting any attempt she may have had at speaking. “What message does your queen bring?” She inquired enthusiastically.
“It is a most magnificent message and you will be respectful as you listen to the words spoken by her majesty!” the left man said. There was an awkward pause. “Squire! The message!” The other man, now identified as a squire, started slightly.
“Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “She says whatever. You can come in if you want, we don’t really care.”
The old lady folded her arms. “So does that mean we can see her?”
“If you want, I guess.” The squire informed. The old lady seemed content, until the little girl began tugging on her dress.
“Lady Aban... could you pick me up?” The Lady did as she was asked, and pointed the young queen towards the guardsmen. “LET US PASS!” The queen shrieked. “LET US PASS OR WE SHALL USE HEAVY FORCE!” The left man hurriedly cleared himself from the exit, whilst the squire did so only in a weary manner. The following moved into the castle.
“Really, you don’t have to shou- “
“QUIET, KNAVE! OR I SHALL HAVE YOUR HEAD!”
The adequate doors seemed, to the girl, daunting and looming. In actuality they were only about twice the height as she was, and since she was quite small that didn’t mean a lot. To anybody else they would have appeared humble, especially considering they were the doors to the queen’s personal study. She never believed in large, ceremonious decorations, and only had the castle because she inherited it.
The young queen nervously stepped towards the adequate doors. She ran her fingers on the typical balsa wood and became quite enamoured. Lady Aban began a sigh and knocked on the doors.
“What?” came a listless response from behind the door.
Upon hearing the jaded voice, the young queen leapt from her trance and began thumping mercilessly on the doors.
“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, SHRUGS! EMERGE FROM YOUR NOT QUITE UNHOLY BUT ALSO NOT HOLY EITHER DOMAIN!”
“…door’s open, y’know.” And with that, the doors swung open, exposing the older queen’s study. It wasn’t terribly spacious, but it didn’t need to be. Having a grand library for a study would be way too much of a hassle, not to mention gaudy. (A perfect description of what the younger queen had in her very own castle) She sprinted into the room, but the cramped nature of the area neutralised her efforts to make it dramatic. She darted a finger at the older queen nonetheless.
“You!! Ever since my mother died I have vowed to end your neutral ways! My kingdom of hugs will always triumph over the kingdom of shrugs because love and like is stronger than indifference! That’s what she’s always told me! So prepare to… get… something happen to you!” She was really getting into it, but failed at the final hurdle. The old Lady Aban, who did not seem so old now that another adult was in her presence, pushed in front of the young queen, as she has a habit of doing.
“Please do excuse her cutesiness for the hostilities. She can be quite rabid at times…” she rubbed her forehead. “Her father was some kind of dog… type person. It’s a long story…”
“Uhuh.” Said the Queen of Shrugs, who had not been paying attention for the entire exchange.
“So anyway, we’ve come to talk to you about our little war against her; you know, the Queen of Thugs.”
“Totally winning that!” One of the knights piped up. They were quickly shushed by the lady.
“Neutral.” Said the Queen of Shrugs, in a monotone voice.
“See yes, that’s what you wrote in the letters, but I think you’ll like what we’re offering in return- “
“Really, honestly, you must consider your options, if you don’t act now, they’ll come for- “
“I…” The lady was getting visibly frustrated at the queen, who had not changed her facial expression once. “…If you do not join our cause, we will have to consider you an enemy!”
“’Kay.” The queen glanced down and began reading a book.
“Seriously?!! We’re incredibly powerful!! We are. A very. Powerful. Enemy!!” The queen did not even glance back up, or make a sound. “Fine!” the Lady Aban said. “Be completely disagreeable! And when the queen of thugs comes and burns your kingdom with her thugs, we will not lift a finger! You will rue the day you refused to form an alliance with the kingdom of hugs, you… you, you you…”
“Cretin!” one of the knights exclaimed.
“Jerk!” said another, slightly more innocent knight.
“I bet she doesn’t even like hugs…” spoke a fatter, depressed sounding one.
The Queen of Shrugs was not fazed by these insults, but looked up slightly, as though to acknowledge them. The Lady felt as though she had said her piece, and moved out with the knights in tow. The current Queen of Hugs did not follow. She stared at the older queen with a childlike abhorrence. Tears flooded from her, large, round puppy dog eyes. The older queen rolled her own at this blatant guilt tripping.
“By… by the way...” the younger queen struggled to form words with a choking voice. “Wh-when I said that m-my mum died… sh-she died a week ago, okay? She was the b-best! A-and you’re just a… a meanie!!” She dashed from the room, emitting a shrill wail. The Queen of Shrugs could have sworn, if only for a brief second, that she felt an emotion. Before she could meditate on this strange phenomenon, one of her squires quickly entered the room.
“Uh, yeah, so uh, your majesty… one of the uh, soldiers, was like, a spy? Just letting you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Oh, cool. Welp, see ya.”
The young man who was previously guarding the left of the entrance, Lady Aban and the Queen of Hugs gathered into a dreary and depressing room. It was the kind of dark you could only get from an underground cavern designed as a secret outpost. Even as the queen threw happy face stickers on the drizzly walls, the atmosphere did not brighten. The spy and the Lady sat opposite at a damaged and splintery table, with only a tiny flickering candle for illumination. The Lady leaned forward.
“Tell me; what was that so-called neutral hiding?”
“Oh man, where to begin? You won’t believe what I found. I looked absolutely everywhere!”
“Right. So what unbelievable piece of information did you find?”
“Said you wouldn’t believe it! I did in fact look everywhere! It was surprisingly easy, too. I think I was spotted dozens of times, but none of her subjects seemed to care. I was able to search every nook and cranny, and that’s why I’m sure that she’s not hiding or plotting anything.” The spy was in a cheery mood, but the woman did not share the same sentiments.
“Then it’s worse than I thought.”
“Erm, Lady Aban? What’s worse than you thought? Doesn’t this mean she’s completely harmless and we can just ignore her?” Lady Aban thumped a fist onto the table and almost demolished it. The spy flinched.
“You do not understand the power that woman can conjure!” She breathed heavily, and noticed the fear in the spy’s eyes. She reclined her anger a little. “You were not alive to see it, but I once witnessed a most marvellous and momentous battle. The battle for the McGuffin forest.” She leant back as she prepared to recount an epic tale. “The McGuffin forest had an abundance of rare and precious recourses. It was, and still is, under the control of the Kingdom of Bugs. They have always collected from this forest and distributed the resources evenly among the kingdoms. However, the Queen of Thugs thought this forest too tantalizing a prize and wanted it all for herself. She decided to lead her army of thugs towards this forest and take it for their own.”
“The Kingdom of Bugs? But they’re total weaklings! The army must have squashed them!”
“Indeed. The battle began and the thug army’s vastly superior weaponry and technology completely decimated a large chunk of the miniscule bug army. The thugs were about to claim the victory when, seemingly out of nowhere, the queen of shrugs appeared. She was only a child, much like our young majesty. But the power she wielded was immense. She blasted the thugs away from the forest with wickedly powerful spells. She wiped out a good portion of the thug army single handed, and did not even look remotely fatigued. She then healed what remained of the bug army, and then, without a word, she disappeared. Perhaps she walked away, or simply vanished. The mysteriousness of it meant nobody could tell. Some say this battle is the reason that the Queen of Thugs employs such a defeatist attitude.”
“That’s incredible. So why are we only now just looking for her allegiance?”
“The… previous Queen of Hugs knew of what broke the Queen of Shrugs from her neutral state, but she would never tell us, or allow us to meet with her. Now that she’s passed away, we’re finally free to solve the mystery…” Her anger subsided and she looked thoughtful.
“Whoa. That’s some crazy stuff.” The spy also looked thoughtful, but in a thoughtless sort of way. “So… plan B then?”
“Of course, plan B.”
A lone soldier stood in the shadow of a dark fortress. The land it occupied was dark, gloomy, barren and lifeless, but the darkness of the fortress held a certain dimness that could only be managed with fallen pride. The first thing that came into view was a giant skull that sat above the miniscule gateway. At a point, this giant skull may have wept lava, but it did not. Giant towers randomly scattered throughout the temple did not emit smoke. A perpetual dark storm brewed upon the fortress, but it did not rain, nor rumble, nor strike. Even the weather itself could not be bothered to intimidate. The soldier had the air of him as a solitary wanderer: his regular clothes would have been leather in material, and he probably would have worn one of those hats with a feather in; but on this day he wore a complete suit of heavy steel armour, as that is what he believed would be suitable camouflage. This preparation proved pointless when he approached the gateway and was greeted by two men who were naked, save for some trousers probably shaped from potato sacks.
“Halt…” the man on the left droned. The man on the right did not even speak, and faded in and out of a dozed state. “…state your name and allegiance…”
“…Never mind… Just go in and take all our stuff… I don’t care anymore….” He slumped towards the wall and fell asleep. The other man did too. The wanderer was about to let himself in when from behind he heard a loud and brief thumping sound, wakening the guards. The left guard sheepishly observed the mess. “…looks like Jim jumped this time… you owe me, Frank...” He fell back asleep. The wanderer dared not look behind. He carefully creeped through the gateway, as not to wake the guards.
The courtyard of the fortress did not inspire any more joy than the gate did. It was almost barren, though there were a few men sluggishly meandering around. They probably had nowhere specific to go and were just trying to remain slightly active. A cart stuffed full of dead bodies sat in the relative middle, and a dreggy, unshaven man who presumably pulled it lay silent next to it. The wanderer briskly moved to the man and nudged his torso with a foot. The man moved his head and clenched his face. The wanderer nudged the torso again, but this time it was more of a kick. The man opened his eyes and adjusted to his surroundings. He eventually pointed his face towards the wanderer, and eyed him up and down.
“Nice armour, fancy pants.” Spluttered the man in a gravelly voice. “Whaddya want?”
“Where is the Queen of Thugs?” asked the Wanderer, looking down towards the man. His voice sounded like that of a nobleman, well spoken and defined.
“Up my arse.” Laughed the unshaven man. The wanderer allowed him a moment, then quickly unsheathed a steel longsword. His laughing ceased. “Go up the stairs from that room.” He raised his arm and awkwardly indicated towards a decrepit set of double doors. The wanderer wasted no time in marching on the way to them. “Yeeeeahhh… you’d better run…” the man muttered before nodding off once again.
The timeworn stone steps caused the wanderer’s steel boots to clang. The clangs rang through the entirety of the fortress, with no other sound present. Eventually he came upon a room. It was not unlike a prison cell, with an unkempt bed and a miniature hole as an excuse for a window. The only difference is that the unkempt bed contained an iron-fisted ruler, who, too, was unkempt. He observed that the queen was a fragile middle-aged woman.
“You.” A frail voice came from the woman. The wanderer hovered in the doorway out of both honour and not wanting to catch any diseases. “I could not be bothered to get out of bed today. Or yesterday. Or for the past thirty years. So this is how I must be seen.”
“You and your army does not seem ruthless as told by the tales.”
“I have the power to crush anyone that opposes me. I could have you killed where you stand. But I shan’t tempt fate.”
“Then I shall take the orb unopposed.”
“Your only opposition now is the Queen of Hugs. That you are here must mean she is no longer in the way.”
“You should not have come to see me. You should save your pity for someone deserving of it.”
“We will win this war, thug. You no longer hold the superior power.”
“Of that I am sure. Leave me now and do as you wish. I won’t threaten to force you out, but I will certainly attempt an empty threat.”
This is another unfinished story I wrote around the same time. This one is slightly more canonical to my universe, and was an attempt to create a story version of Divine Intervention.
Adora’s thick leather coat shielded most of her body from Urai’s harsh perpetual snowstorm. The lost kingdom of Urai was a deadly wilderness not to be taken lightly, and with nought but the most basic of magical knowledge, Adora would have to remain vigilant. She was certainly not equipped properly for a long journey into Urai’s wilderness, having only taken a coat and a few ham sandwiches, yet somehow her journey through the night was faultless. She was not once ambushed by wolves or caught in an overwhelming blizzard. But it would seem Adora still had cause for concern, as she did not notice the shadow lurking behind her.
Her trip took her through a somber forest, through which she discovered a meager but relatively comfortable clearing. The night had taken its toll on Adora, and it was time she rested for the night.
“What happens next..?” She whispered to herself, trying to recall what she had learned about adventuring. “Firewood, that’s it.” The forest’s trees covered her from the southern winds, so snowflakes were not falling as rapidly as before. Still, it was an ill advised move. It’s usually common practice to find a cave, not sleep out in the open.
Adora ventured back into the forest, whereupon instantly she found a pile of logs perfectly suitable as firewood. She dragged them back to the middle of the clearing and settled herself onto the snow. Adora snapped her fingers, attempting to generate a spark. She snapped again, and three more times, until finally a tiny orange flame emerged on the tip of her index finger. Gingerly, she lowered her finger towards the firewood. The flame momentarily made contact with the damp, frozen logs, then embered out and died. Frustrated, Adora busied herself and focused on clicking her fingers. She had finally produced another flame when the firewood spontaneously ignited into a blazing wildfire, causing Adora to jump back in astonishment.
She observed the miniscule orange ember on her finger with wide eyes. Then she shook her entire hand, killing the flame.
That night, she dreamed of a land that floated high above Parluthia, beyond the clouds and away from prying eyes. It was a beautiful, floating island, bursting with plant and river life, bordered not by water but by the sky. The moon’s rays were reflected on the beautiful waterfall that roared down from the tallest of its hills. Peaceful cottages were scattered on the island and the restful inhabitants slumbered within. At the exact center of the island stood a magnificent stone tower, a hundred times taller than the hill it resided on. It rose brilliantly towards the stars, where it cemented its position as the authority of the island. On its roof stood a large man dressed in a blinding white robe, his full grey beard emanating an unhindered light. He looked down upon his island, his kingdom, and took in the nightly beauty. And he smiled.
Adora awoke to a fire still blazing with energy. It had kept her perfectly content through the night, which amazed her, as a fire that can last more than eight hours is considered an expert level spell, something entirely out of her skill set. She stood up, and stared intently at the inferno before her.
She was probably supposed to put it out.
Cupping her hands and groping at nothing in particular, she attempted to conjure some water from the moisture in the air. It seemed to prove difficult for her though, as after a long trial of strange hand movements, she gave up. Conjuring water was also out of her expertise, requiring one to be at least an intermediate level student before they can form a single droplet. She resorted to digging up an armful of snow, and throwing it on top of the flame. That did the trick. The snow melted, and the water formed was more than enough to kill the blaze entirely. In truth, it almost seemed like too much water, and some of it spilled onto Adora’s boots.
Adora’s journey was even less treacherous now that there was a relatively dim sun shining through the clouds, despite the lands being one of the most dangerous in Parluthia. Within an hour she had already come across her goal, a tiny cold shack in the middle of a forest. The shack was of a similar colour to the spruce wood that surrounded it, the multitude of trees showing that this shack had aged enough for the trees to regrow. The roof of the building was riddled with holes due to being pummeled with hailstones through years upon years. The singular window was modest, and mostly just a rotten wooden pane. Adora was sure that the interior was going to be just as pretty. She traipsed her way through the thick snow that consumed her boots. Each step was more difficult - chillier than the last. With great reservation, her hand reached out towards the spruce door - and she pushed with very little effort, allowing the worn and torn door to creak forward and expose the living space of someone long dead.
Adora busied herself searching through the dead shack. Despite its empty feel, the shack was anything but. Maps and books were littered over the freezing wooden floor, along with bits of roof and wall that refused to stay in their correct place. The rebellious debris forced Adora to shift around in splintery wood, which made her thankful for the heavy clothing, but a little healing magic wouldn’t have gone amiss.
Adora paused. She could sense something wrong; a presence in the air that she could not see. She darted her head around, searching for what wasn’t there.
The presence spoke.
“What are you looking for?”
“Leave this home, girl. Or suffer the deadly consequences.” The voice boomed. Adora turned pale for a second. It spoke again.
“I am the ghost of this shack. Turn back now.”
“W-What is your name, Mister Ghost?” Adora quivered as she spoke.
“The.. That name has been lost for centuries. Now go away and don’t search my belongings!”
Adora’s colour turned back to normal.
She started giggling.
“What is so humorous, girl?!” The voice roared to a deafening level. “Are you not terrified by my presence?”
“Maybe I would be if you were still invisible, Taza!”
In front of the doorway stood a tall woman with long red hair and a skin tone that was slightly darker than Adora’s. A scar ran down the area between her right eye and nose.
“I uh- oh.” Taza stammered, quite embarrassed but making an effort to hide it. “The spell must have worn off already.”
“So… what are you doing here? Have we been going the same way from central Parluthia? You could have asked to come with me.”
“I asked you a hundred times NOT to go on this adventure, but you still snuck out and left without telling me.” Taza folded her arms like a disapproving mother.
“I can take care of myself, really! I made it through Urai all by myself, and look!” She pointed to her face, and then her arms, and diverted attention from her slightly wet boots. “All fine!” Taza let out a sigh and slumped against the doorway, but recoiled as soon as she felt the splintery wood.
“Why do you think you’re all fine?”
“Because I’m a great adventurer!”
Taza almost spoke, but instead thought for a moment. It would be a huge hit to her confidence if she just told her she had been following her, but at the same time, feeding this courage she’ll certainly be tempted to go on journeys of even more danger.
“Let’s just say… someone has been watching over you..” Taza spoke in an exasperated manner.
“You mean… the Divine Ones?”
Taza let out yet another elongated breath. “Those who watch over us from the heavens? Who fight to protect Parluthia from chaos and destruction? Those whose living memory has been lost through generations?”
Adora stood up triumphantly.
“I knew you’d give in some time, Taza! I knew you couldn’t deny it for long! You do believe they exist and I will find them!”
“No!” Taza clenched her fists, folded her arms and leaned forward to shout “They do not exist! They are a pointless fairy tale invented only to invoke superstition!”
“So if they don’t exist, I won’t find anything?” Adora sung in a tone that annoyed Taza.
“If you find something, it will all be lies.” Taza admitted.
“I’m willing to take that chance.”
Adora continued her search, taking her towards a lonesome shelf slightly too high to be in her reach. She leaped onto the shelf and struggled to keep a grip. Her legs dangled half a metre above the floorboards, and her weight was threatening to collapse the frail shelf. She hauled herself over in one final struggle, where she peeked at an antiquated book. Then the nails keeping the shelf in place gave up on life. An outstretched arm saw her falling back to the wooden floors with the shelf crashing down with her, kicking up clouds of dust untouched by the years.
“Need any help?” Taza wandered over to the wreckage with only the slightest sense of schadenfreude and a glowing healing spell already crawling over her hands.
“No..” Adora groaned, her thick, bulky coat taking the brunt of the impact. She quickly remembered the book, and clambered over to where it had collapsed to. “This is it!” She shouted excitedly.
“What?” Taza said with a genuine worry etched on her face.
“Exactly what I faced the dangers of Urai for!” Adora said, her excitement brimming on hysteria.
Adora grabbed the tome and stood up. “It’s the book - the journal of the man who met with the Divine Ones! With this, all of the secrets will be unlocked! Perhaps I’ll even learn how to commune with them myself!” Observing how ecstatic Adora was, Taza momentarily forgot her protective intentions. For all the effort Taza placed into safeguarding Adora, it always made her happy to see the youth enjoying herself. Perhaps her care had gone too far; a young adult’s curiosity will always take them to the ends of the earth, and after having trekked through one of the most dangerous places in the world, she seems to be doing well. Granted of course, she had a little help.
“Alright.” Taza rubbed her hands.. “Enjoy your book, I’ll head home.” And with that, Taza left as abruptly as she meant to, before Adora could get a word in edgewise. She briskly removed herself from the shack, before hiding behind a dense tree, where she waited to resume her protective duties.
Adora threw the book on a barely intact table, flipped it open and began to devour its knowledge.
The island glowed from the ray of the midday sun. The sea of clouds below were glowing with flocculence. The trickling of the river competed with the graceful singing of colourful birds drinking in the harmonious environment. The verdant foliage skulked the grounds, invading the living space of the island’s inattentive inhabitants. The island that Adora had dreamed of was most certainly a reality, as were the Divine Ones Taza so adamantly did not believe in. Most of this divine community, with their idle downy wings and meager summer clothes, sat lazily in the shade of the monolithic fort. Many years of relaxation had passed, and this was just one more day of it. For the complaisant, the lackadaisical lifestyle was just fine.
However, there was one restless youngster who did not wish to conform to this style of living. His wings were not idle but regularly exercised, his body clad in inefficiently hot and heavy but honorable armour, and his hair was black and long, as a consequence of there being no one to cut it. He arduously worked at the neglected foliage that infested the cottages, trimming it down with speed to make up for a hundred dozing idiots.
“Oi!” One dozing idiot exclaimed towards the young man. “You missed a spot!”
The youth continued working without realising his peer had yelled at him. “Hey! I’m talking to you, Kevin!”
Upon hearing his name, Kevin’s head perked up as though he was a dog called by his master. “Yes?”
“Left!” He shouted, indicating the direction of the spot.
Kevin sidled to the shouting man’s left.
“Left!” He shouted again, and Kevin shifted left once more.
“Here?” Kevin inquired and pointed to the area of ground below him.
Kevin shuffled to his right, but quickly realised the absence of ground and the multitude of water as he tumbled into the nearby river with a roaring splash. The shouting idiot chortled at the scene. Kevin said nothing, but calmly climbed out of the river and resumed his work, his armour and long hair dripping with river water. The chortler was noticeably disappointed in Kevin’s impassiveness. “What gives, Kevin? Quit slaving around and go relax! You’re ruining the mood!”
Kevin picked up some makeshift shears and began clipping at overgrown grass. “I have to work… I’ve gotta show the Lord I can work hard…” .
“Seriously? He’s not going to pick you, dude.”
“Yes, he will!” Kevin almost dropped his shears. “I’ll get the honor of going down and stopping the underworlder in their tracks!”
“Not because you’ve been gardening, bro.”
Kevin paused. In a desperate attempt to show the Lord how valuable he was, he hadn’t stopped to think that gardening was more useful on the island than off it.
“Listen…” He started, removing himself from his deckchair for what was possibly the first time ever. “We’d all like you off this island just as much as you do, but you’ll never make it with the competition you’re facing.” He moved to place his hand on Kevin’s shoulder, but quickly decided against it.
“Competition?” Kevin tilted his head like a confused mutt. “There’s competition?” Everyone knew that Kevin was the only one willing to take on the task, so naturally he thought he was a shoe-in candidate, if only the Lord took notice. He had not anticipated that there was somebody else willing, perhaps even more so than he was. Perhaps even more known to the Lord than he was. That would not do. “Who?” He urged.
“Why don’t you go find out for yourself? You didn’t hear it from me, but rumor has it the Lord doesn’t lock the tower at night…”
And why would he need to? The island is perfectly peaceful day and night. No conflict other than the odd squabble, but most folks can’t put in the effort even for that. So there’s no reason anyone can’t access the Lord’s secret personal belongings, files or plans; simply because no one would bother. Except Kevin, of course.
Kevin cursed that he was about to raid the Lord’s possessions, but he had to find out whatever he could to stop the mundanity of life and have a true adventure. The following night, he scampered in the shadows up the hill towards the centre of the island. The tower loomed above him, almost daring him to infiltrate it. He swallowed his courage, of which he had a surprising amount of, and approached the entrance of the tower.
The entrance was surprisingly plain. There were two statues on either side of the large, steel doors and a stone brick path leading from it, but that was all that was notable. Kevin remarked mentally that the grass beneath him could do with some clipping, and perhaps some flowers could be planted to liven up the area, but ultimately he kept his mind focused on his mission.