“You’ve been causing many problems for us, B.S.Roberts,” Macy Blush’s agent said with a disappointed sigh. “Now, the terms of your summoning haven’t been completed, so you will need to come—HEY! Get back here!”
Sure enough, the ghostwriter had turned tail and fled toward the opposite side of the stage where another door was conveniently located and wide open (did we not mention that door before? Oh. Well, blame it on the Discombobulation).
“Wait, I still have a bone to pick with you,” Balatar shouted and pushed the agent aside so he could follow B.S.Roberts out through the door, which he promptly slammed shut and bolted.
The wizard scanned the intersection he’d found himself in to see the earthling running down the hall to the left. With a growl, he gave chase again, grinning as the agent began to slam his fists against the locked door.
Despite being a wizard, Balatar was written to be quite fit as he was originally intended to be the protagonist of a smutty romance novel, meaning he was much more in shape than B.S.Roberts, as had already been established in Chapter Four. Needless to say, it was only a matter of seconds before the wizard tackled the ghostwriter.
After the two men stopped rolling, Balatar straddled B.S.Roberts with a firm grip on the earthling’s semi-transparent collar. “You will apologize to me!”
“Sorry,” B.S.Roberts squeaked.
“I can’t hear you!”
“Now what should I do with you?””
“Let me go?”
Balatar thought about it for a moment, then shrugged and got up. It was a rather anticlimactic combat scene for sure. Realizing this, the wizard then punched B.S.Roberts in the eye, knocking his head back against the stone floor.
“Owww,” B.S.Roberts complained. “I said I was sorry.”
“Yeah yeah,” Balatar grumbled and held out his hand for the ghostwriter to take. When the man was halfway up onto his feet, the wizard let go, and B.S.Roberts hit the floor again.
“What the hell?”
With a hearty laugh, Balatar watched the ghostwriter pick himself up. “You said back there you wanted to go home?”
“Uh, yes…” B.S.Roberts said and rubbed the back of his skull. “Do you think you can help me?”
“Sure I can; I’m one of the greatest wizards in Faewalk, you know!”
The ghostwriter didn’t bother to state that his character was changed into Alatar because he was just too… well… silly to the protagonist of The Wizard’s Staff — not when he offered to get him back to Earth. Speaking of which… “Why are you offering to help me?”
Balatar’s gruff face twisted into a malicious smile.
Meanwhile, back in the forum, Macy Blush’s agent had commandeered the archwizard to lead him around the locked door, which left the process server that had accompanied him alone in the room full of academics. Taking position in the center of the stage, he cleared his throat.
One by one, wizards, philosophers, alchemists, and researchers noticed the man and fell silent. Using the time needed for the hush to spread through the room, the man opened his briefcase and pulled out several parchments.
As the last person stopped talking to stare at the bland-looking man, he coughed a second time and spoke, his voice booming through the amphitheater despite not raising his voice. “For those of you who do not know who I am, I am Bernard Killway the First, process server for the Mages of the Bay, the legal department for the Magi Guild. What you have all learned by listening to the previous dialogue is highly confidential information protected by [REDACTED]’s status in the guild and particularly their role as Macy Blush’s agent. All that said, everybody in attendance today must sign this Non-Disclosure Agreement, which, as you likely know, will make it physically impossible to disclose the information. Should you try to circumvent the contract, you will immediately be banished to the Shadow Realm.”
Evidently, a cricket was living under a bench in the forum because it decided to chirp at that particular moment.
“Does anybody have any questions?”
A tiefling three rows up raised his hand. “Uh, Bernie?”
“I prefer Bernard.”
“What if we refuse to sign?”
Bernard tilted his head. “Of course you may refuse.” Then he smiled, which frankly was terrifying on somebody who had, until that moment, appeared so bland and ordinary that a person would never be able to remember his appearance. Of course, even then, it would be particularly difficult to remember anything but the malice he projected.
The tiefling’s blue skin turned ashen, and he briskly shook his head. “No, no, I plan on signing.”
“Very good. Please form a single file line so we can get through these signatures as quickly and efficiently as possible.”
In secrecy veiled, its words tightly bound,
a pact of silence where whispers are found.
Legal in nature, it guards secrets well,
signed by those with stories they won’t tell.
Note: Use all CAPS for the code!