Chapter 43

THE BRICK BLOCKS withstood the trickle in heat as the room warmed up more from the summer reign over the two reconveners after their brief one-week recess of various tasks.

Caine, upon losing his ship of an enforcer was grief-stricken for about 30 standard drinks, emerged a new monarch of his own devising where he concluded to himself that he—like a certain 1970 musical comedy—is the company. And as frightened as he was of dying without the fall of the empire that cost him a hundred people who worked side by side by side, he’s more frightened of letting them roam about while he sat on his chair, being alive.

So, unusual for him it may be, he asked for help personally from a person capable enough to withstand the intensity of his words; but is also proficient enough that it won’t be a hindrance to his problem-solving.

August, on the other end of the seat, had a less emotionally jarring week; but rather a pretty enervating one for his getting’ old eyes. Togethe