DEAN SOUVILLE

Dear Mayor of Civerstein,

In response to your judged hasty decision, I and the entire city council ask you to reconsider the decision.

Elephant trunk trolls are an immoral race. Although we know you strongly believe in Civerstein's integrity, challenging immoral beings is still a bad decision. Don't let blood and tears spill over in our beloved city.

I hope you consider it again. Hoping very much. Please. Help. Don't throw this letter away.

Craig Souville

Head Advisory Board

Right after reading the warning in the final paragraph of her letter, Claire immediately shuffled the dull paper and threw it in the trash. Dean, who acted as the courier, could only nod in understanding at her actions.

"This is my father's seventh letter you threw away, Claire," he said.

"I will throw out the eighth, ninth, and so on if Mr. Craig Souville keeps sending me bullshit letters." Claire replied with a smile.

"He's just doing his job." Dean looked away. "Besides, I told him it was pointless. You're definitely not going to listen to anyone's advice now."

"No," interrupted Claire. "I only listen to the best advice, which is my own. Shouldn't all mayors be like that?"

"Which mayor?" The partner laughed in exasperation. "I think you're the first."

"Never mind, Dean. Let's just end this troublesome discussion. There's still a lot of unfinished business. We only have two days left." Claire shuffled from her work chair, then watched the soldiers training in the camp through the window.

It had been a day since Claire's phenomenal decision. The feud of Civerstein and the elephant trunk troll kingdom is drawing to a close. Even though the messages of urgency from here and there were overflowing on his desk, in fact the well-built girl didn't care at all. Just like the Claire Crook everyone knows, selfish and stubborn.

The weather in the city today is a bit foggy. Civerstein's death squad had been training since early in the morning. They wield swords, shoot at targets and race horses across the arena. The training camp was suddenly transformed into the arena for the best soldiers.

As the mayor in charge, Claire was also training. She was a formidable woman—the best among girls her age—and was known as an unyielding knight. Claire's last name gives a lot of meaning in the eyes of people, one of which is about the skill of the sword.

The Crook family is filled with skilled sword fighters who always manage to slash opponents and hide behind shields. They are also good at archery, horseback riding, to set war strategies. The blood was now flowing in Claire's veins. She was—after all—still a Crook. Not infrequently the men were subdued at the point of his sword.

"All the soldiers stand in position. Me and some of the officials will meet the troll diplomats to continue negotiations. If they persist about the land, then carry out the procedures for defending Civerstein. That's the strategy. Got it?"

"Ready, got it!" All the soldiers answered in unison. They formed a very neat line, standing facing the pulpit at the training camp.

"What about their catapults and flint? That's the biggest problem," Dean said.

"The technicians are setting up cannons around the city. Besides, we have a back-up strategy in case Civerstein's defenses are beyond help. Though I doubt the trolls will be able to pass through our gate intact."

"All right. I think this is the best we can do." Dean raised an eyebrow in surrender.

"I want all soldiers to increase the intensity of today's training until tomorrow. The day after tomorrow is an important day, I don't want it to be a mess. Got it?"

"Got it!"

"Good. Now, disband!"

~~o0o~~

"He threw it away again. Even I doubt if Claire reads it or not."

"Curse that princess of Hamspere Crook XII! I wrote her letter with the best pen and ink. But she just threw it away!" An old man grumbled fiercely. His beard and mustache trembled with emotion.

"Why did you get so emotional? Didn't Claire really never pay attention to your letter?" Dean looked surprised.

"This one's different, Dean Souville, My smart son … but sometimes stupid too," grumbled the man, Craig Souville, the head advisory board whose letter Claire dumped this morning. "Slaughter, genocide! That's what I implied in the letter. But that smart-ass Claire Crook just keeps getting bigger!"

"Then why didn't you just tell him straight away?" sanctioned Dean.

"Going to her?!" Craig's face turned sinister. "How can I go to that smart-ass girl. Her father walks proudly in this town, proposing to the prettiest girl, but still sleeping with other women. I don't want to!"

"Oh, Dad. Are you still thinking about it?"

"Thinking of what?" said Craig.

"Your past. You always mention your rivalry with Mr. Hamspere for Claire's mother's heart. Can't we just look ahead? Sorry to be rude, but you have to learn to forget about it. Your past defeats have even taken away my future." Dean looked at his father with worried eyes. Deeper, denser. But Craig instead slapped that gaze with his disgusted face.

"What future? You ruined your own future! You should be the mayor of Civerstein by now. I can walk around town proud that my only son is number one person in this town. But no! You resigned for your stupid excuses! You let that damn Hamspere's daughter run rampant while we're doormats. Unappreciated! Disregarded! Underestimated!"

Dean could only be silent for a moment his father's spit splashed on his face because of a really loud scream. He tried to hold his head up even though his heart ached, he couldn't accept being scapegoated like that. However, whoever said Dean was the cause of the problem, if it was the father, then he could not rebel anything.

"I-I can't let Claire suffer," he said.

"And now you suffer! I suffer! We suffer, Dean! It's all for that cocky girl." Craig gulped down the water on his desk before sitting down on the bed. "Don't get too involved with her. You can't be together. Not after what you did to his father."

Dean's eyes suddenly widened. His mouth was clenched shut, as cold sweat pooled on his temples: "I haven't done anything vile to anyone."

Craig laughed disdainfully: "I thought things would get better after you poisoned that bastard mayor. And things should have gotten better! But what's the point now?! You failed as mayor. The plan is nonsense now!"

"You told me to do it!" Dean protested.

"Yes! So that you can become mayor!"

"But I can't! I've taken away the most important person to Claire. I can't take more!"

"Just like I said." Craig got out of bed, scurried over to Dean, pointing angrily. "You rancid pig! Stupid and disgusting! Everything failed because you involved your feelings. A pig doesn't deserve to love anyone!" The skinny man sneered at his son.

"You know, Dad? I'm a pig." Dean responded casually, though his eyes were bloodshot. "But I'm better than you. I wouldn't sacrifice anything for crazy ambition. Well, you're ruining yourself with all that hate."

"What do you know, Little boy!" said Craig. "I'm trying to save you from that poison. You won't know how deadly love can be until your heart is torn apart by disappointment."

"Then I won't let disappointment touch my heart." Dean's lips twitched as his eyes grew sharper. "I'm sick of acting like a bad person. From now on, I'll be honest with Claire. No matter what risks come my way."

"You stupid pig! It's useless for me to raise you. Useless! It's no use at all!" Craig raved in his husky voice. "Go away! You are no longer my son. I will leave this cursed city. Get away from people who are mentally ill because of the poison of love."

"I'm leaving too." Dean answered firmly. "And I'll never come back. Wish you happy, Dad. I wish you have a good day."

Craig snorted loudly as he looked away. The man clearly didn't care with what his son said. Dean didn't seem to care either. He rushed out of his father's house, went as far as possible. Now he has only one goal in life: to confess everything to Claire, especially about the mysterious death of Hamspere Crook XII. Of course after this the word "mysterious" will disappear.

When he arrived at the training camp, he found only soldiers who were diligent in training. Dean tried checking in the big camps, but all he found were a few squad commanders arguing over which group was the best.

Dean's search ends when he walks into the mayor's office, and finds Claire sitting reading a book. It was no ordinary book, at least for them. There are many memories etched there.

"You remember it, Dean?" Claire didn't even take her eyes off her precious book.

"That book? Of course. It was your first book, wasn't it? You wrote and drew a lot of things there."

"Only me?" Claire raised her thin eyebrows.

"Yeah, yeah. I also wrote a few things there. You pushed me that time." Dean sighed, then smiled shyly.

Claire burst out laughing: "What a few things? You finished half the book, Dean," she said. "You wrote a lot, especially about kingdoms and Lords. I still remember how much you admired them."

"Forget it. It was just a child's dream," Dean said.

"Dean, are you still dreaming about it?" Claire suddenly asked.

"About those Lords? Of course not! How can a non-magical person like us be king of kings. That position is too high, even for a mere flower sleep." A languid look was clearly visible on his white skinned face.

"I know. Sorry for taking your chance to be mayor."

Dean choked. His heart stuttered, before he finally regained his composure: "No. You don't need to apologize. I resigned. This town should be led by a mayor's daughter, not a lousy young man who is usually just spiteful."

"What did you mean?" Claire frowned.

For a moment Dean's body temperature skyrocketed. His neck was hot, his breath was shallow. The man was not ready at all to testify his guilt, in front of his own victim's daughter. Dean's face suddenly turned pale. His fingers wouldn't stop moving because they were busy hiding the shaking.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Claire was starting to get suspicious.

Dean's greatest sin is to allow himself to be deceived by the grudge that his father whispers every day. Hamspere Crook XII has taken everything from us. Thrones, wealths, women. Craig really juggles Dean with all his cunning. The child is no longer a child. He is a robot created by a spiteful man for revenge. That's enough for Dean. The only way to humanize himself again is to take responsibility for all the abominations he has committed.

"Claire... I-I want to confess something."

(To be continued)