The Following Chapter~

I wish these problems never happened in general. I look back at these early chapters and see how minuscule interactions create ripples.

But I felt my blood boil when the crazed Hugo asked:

"So wait a minute here lad, are all Elves rich or sumthin?" Hugo asked Boris with a malevolent tone to his voice. He leaned back against the front of the stage while Boris gave his glaring daggers right back at Hugo, "I mean if you are rich mate, you would not mind lending a couple of brass, if not some of that poppy you fellows seem to know how to-"

"Define rich."

Boris glared at Hugo, interrupting him and making the man scoff.

"Okay, ye pansies, yer wasting my time. Either one of you grab this damned scepter, or ye both just leave!" The auctioneer bursts, throwing the scepter at their feet, "And pay me!"

"We are only human lad, don't ya look down on me now." He fixed his jacket and turned his back against him.

"But with humans comes character, shall I judge you by that?" Boris responded, keeping his gesture relaxed. Hugo turned his head back and pointed to the scepter.

"You wanna judge me now Mr. Know it all? Pick it up, now." Hugo crossed his arms and kicked the scepter towards Boris's feet.

While kneeling, he kept his head down and grasped the scepter.

"Good boy, hand it to me,"

Boris followed his orders while the audience and the auctioneer watched closely.

Hugo snatched the scepter and patted his head, "You are a good little puppy, aren't you? I'll remember you later, keep your head up mate."

I always regret it whenever I start this tale, why do I do this to myself? I know how it ends. But I just can't stop reading, I invest my whole life in these lives, but why?

Boris was looking for the answer why, why was the world cruel. Why must the world's toxins inconvenience him?

While the rusted clouds gently blinded the sun, the wind grew ever so more violent each passing minute.

Shrubbery fought against the currents while the dark rivers gently gleamed. Boris inhaled the air, and tasted the scent of a tangy cinnamon. It drew a hesitant smile on his face as he stomped over the leaves, making his way back.

He glanced over the dead hills and saw the town by the coast. Beggars and peddlers littered the town, most of the guards folk were posted and reminded Boris of an old memory. He remembered witnessing one of them accepting aurum from a sketchy fellow.

Boris looked straight and scoffed, but there are times he wished he knew the town like the back of his hand.

"Maybe next time," He thought to himself.