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As the sun set the cloudless sky turned caliginous, and as if in response to the dusky gloom the shops throughout Dallanbach one by one burst into vivid tributaries of color. Illuminated by fine ribbons of multicolored lights banded across the exterior walls and roofs, the whole of Main Street began to radiate with an exciting kaleidoscope of changing patterns. Even the smooth cobblestones in the street were reflecting back blazing beams of exhilarating color. The busy shoppers strolling down the boardwalk were fully illuminated inside the spectacular light show, and excitedly in reaction to the show, Jacob marched along the radiant walk way with a taken aback grin, cheerfully passing through the crowds with his new companions. They were heading towards the castle to attend their opening banquet, and Jacob felt a jubilant excitement over the chance to attend his very first deluxe feast. The incredible beauty of the light show only added to his anticipation. “By golly, I wish Uncle Clair could see this,” he said, recalling just how plain downtown Ridgeway looked. Compared to Sentinel Village, everything about his old life now seemed dull and simple.
Sentinels holding their orbs with their new apprentices in tow were randomly appearing along the boardwalk. It was Jacob’s first chance to see other apprentices and sentinels, and he stared at their unusual clothing, recognizing many of the familiar outfits. “They dress just like Uncle Clair,” he blurted out in surprise.
“That’s right Jacob,” replied Mr. Pitts, “when sentinels are in the field they dress and follow the customs of their assigned area. On your farm you may have seen Clair wearing some of his collection of old clothing to stay in practice, as any good sentinel should.”
“But your not dressing funny?” questioned Emalynn.
“That’s because we smashingly live here in multi-cultural Sentinel Village where my normal clothing fits in,” answered Mr. Pitts. “But every once in awhile you’ll see me wear some of my wonderful out of place wacky outfits for practice.”
“Uncle Clair’s a sentinel?” asked Jacob, stunned.
“Yes, but he’s on sabbatical. Didn’t he tell you?”
“Nope, I never knew. But then if he’s a sentinel why isn’t he here with us?”
“Ah yes, you’d be wondering that wouldn’t you. In your dimension Clair is unknown, but here he is a famous hero and his presence would draw too much attention to you Jacob. The villagers and sentinels all think you and Clair are dead, and if they saw Clair alive they’d know who you really were and then you’d never get any privacy to train. So for the time being he’ll be staying back, lying low to give you the chance to get your feet wet first.”
Jacob nodded, finding it difficult to believe himself that popular, and at the same time he struggled to imagine Uncle Clair as a famous sentinel. All of his life he had known him only as a kind farmer, and he couldn’t picture him doing anything daring or risky.
It wasn’t long before they reached the front of the castle, and without warning Mr. Pitts suddenly jerked to a halt. Jacob and Emalynn were following close behind, and upon seeing Mr. Pitts standing stationary they wrenched to a stop, nearly colliding in an awkward pile up into Mr. Pitts’ back. Emalynn backed away from Jacob, and Jacob with his nose up against Mr. Pitts’ shirt, embarrassingly stepped back from Mr. Pitts. Together they then joined Mr. Pitts in staring upwards at the edifice’s high towers; highlighted by bright lights the enormous structure ignited the sky like gigantic lanterns.
“Flabbergasting isn’t it?” said Mr. Pitts, looking down at his apprentices. He then pointed forward towards the lower quarter of the edifice. “Over there is where we kept the Book of Galeeky, and before its disappearance that’s where we administered all our apprentice testing.”
Side by side they then walked towards the castle, climbing up worn stone steps. At the top two wide bronze doors hung open for banquet guests, and standing on each side of the entrance doors were two massive monsters. Gray, thin, and hairy, they stood at least seven feet tall with faces and snouts resembling ferocious bulldogs. From the sides of their heads pointy pink cat ears extended straight up. But what seemed most out of place was the battle garb that they wore, made up of silver breastplates, leather pants and tunics, along with a long wooden spears clutched tightly by their huge hairy hands. To Jacob the daunting creatures seemed demoniac, giving him an unsettling chill. He stood motionless gaping up in awe, and then slowly he ambled by. Never had he imagined the possibility that such devilish monsters could really exist. “They’re more suited for a scary nightmare than as castle guards,” he thought, as he glanced ahead, surprised to find Mr. Pitts and Emalynn already waiting inside the castle. Mesmerized by the repulsiveness of the creatures he had unknowingly lagged behind, slow as molasses in January.
“Gate keepers,” patiently explained Mr. Pitts, as Jacob drew closer. “They’re called gobzards. We believe them to have been descended from a mixed race of goblins and giants.”
Jacob nodded and then looked about in awe, seeing before him a huge majestic hall. Mr. Pitts and Emalynn turned and walked onward, following a narrow red carpet laid out across white marble. In a state of reverence Jacob looked upward and then proceeded to follow. High above their heads countless candles were ablaze on fancy large crystal chandeliers, illuminating the entryway. As they ventured deeper into the hall, Jacob caught sight of gargoyle figurines mounted along the top uppermost walls. He noticed their eyes shinning red, reflecting back the candlelight, and suddenly it felt as if they were carefully studying their progress. From the entry hall they entered into a larger room with a wide marble staircases ascending up three stories to walkways and open corridors. Fascinated at the sheer size of the chamber he slowed his step and again looked up, seeing a beautiful white etched marble ceiling. Engravings of brave knights battling ferocious dragons encircled the dome. It was impressive and a grand scene; never before had he seen anything so big and so fancy. At once from the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Emalynn in front of him, she had quietly stopped to look up and observe the same artwork. Alarmed by her sudden appearance he reeled back, but it was too late. “UMPH” he voiced, smacking right into her backside.
She toppled forward while letting out a shrill cry, “OOOOOOOOOOHHHH,” echoing through the lofty spans of the chamber.
“S—sorry! You all right,” he gasped, as she continued to stumble ahead.
Upon regaining her balance she stood up straight, and with an angry glare she turned and stared back at Jacob. “Watch where you’re going, you could’ve hurt me!” she scolded, placing her hands on her hips.
“This place really does echo, doesn’t it?” said Mr. Pitts, proceeding onward like a non-attentive mother duck blissfully leading a procession of quacking ducklings. “I often find myself screaming in here too, just to hear my own voice reverberate back.”
Remorseful Jacob looked down at the marble floor. “After almost smacking into Mr. Pitts I went and did it again,” he thought, angry over his gummed up curse.
In silence the apprentices continued onward, and following behind Mr. Pitts they stepped into a long narrow hallway. Emalynn was still giving Jacob intermittent angry glances, and purposely ignoring her evil eye, he stared down at the lush red carpet pretending he was studying the intricate patterns of golden threads that laced along the edges.
Mr. Pitts came to a stop and lifted his arms. In presentation of two long rows of portraits that lined both sides of the hallway he proudly proclaimed, “This is where my portrait will rest someday! In tribute of the most famous sentinels of all time, here lies the sentinel hall of honor!”
Jacob looked ahead at the long even rows of portraits, and was surprised to see paintings exhibiting a variety of faces; men and women that were old, middle aged, and young; a sundry of diverse nationalities that included dwarf, human, and some other things he had never seen before. As they started to stroll down the hallway of honor, he found himself examining each painting one by one, until a single portrait completely grabbed his attention, familiar but not quite recognizable. He stopped in front of it and curiously gazed up, wondering who it could be.
“You recognize him don’t you Jacob. Your resemblance to him is quite uncanny,” said Mr. Pitts, stepping toward Jacob and placing a hand on his shoulder.
Looking up at Mr. Pitts, Jacob asked, “You mean——this is my father?”
“Yes indeedee, he was one of the most respected sentinels we’ve ever had. And down three more pictures is a portrait of Clair, he was famous in his own right.”
Jacob had always wanted to know what his father looked like, and now that he was able to see his face for the first time, it uncovered feelings that he didn’t know existed. Painfully he studied the portrait, wishing that his father had never left him. His downhearted mood slowly began to fade as he realized that his father had once been a great sentinel. If Mr. Pitts hadn’t recruited him into the apprenticeship, he would have never known it. And now that he was a sentinel’s apprentice, it would give him a chance to experience parts of his father’s life that he wouldn’t know otherwise. The more Jacob pondered on the thought, the more he felt a desire to become a great sentinel like his father. “By golly, Uncle Clair was right,” he suddenly realized, “becoming Mr. Pitts’ apprentice is really the best thing for me.” His quiet examination continued on for several more minutes, until finally he broke the silence. “Thanks a whole bunch Mr. Pitts, I have never seen a picture of him before.”
“The pleasure’s all mine Jacob.”
“You look just like your dad,” added Emalynn with a smile.
Quietly they walked forward a few more steps and Jacob spotted a portrait with a bronze name plaque, reading “Clair Frost.” At first he didn’t recognize him, but after a moment of study he could see his uncle’s likeness appear.
“Uncle Clair sure looks different without his beard,” he said, as he looked up at the portrait and rubbed his soft smooth face with his hand, wishing he could grow one.
They continued to stroll ahead viewing an assortment of faces until the portraits came to an end near an open door. Mr. Pitts stopped in front of the opening and looked in while the curious apprentices gathered to his side. In the center of the room was a giant orb equipped with dozens of display panels. Sentinels holding pencils and notepads were surrounding the orb, studying various scenes that were showing on each screen.
“Yes indeedeedoo, the dispatch room,” said Mr. Pitts. “This is where we monitor orb distress calls and track the levels of dark matter throughout the world, dispatching sentinels to the various trouble spots.”
A group of dispatchers suddenly crowded around a single monitor and Jacob caught a brief glimpse of the screen showing five sentinels netting some sort of dark living thing. He tried to make out the monster’s features, but it was too difficult to view between the sentinels’ heads, it was all happening too fast.
“Hmmnn, interesting.” said Mr. Pitts. “They just captured a dark warrior scout. Scouts often reconnoiter an area before an attack. Something big might be happening very soon, maybe even tonight.”
Jacob wanted to stay and see more, but Mr. Pitts again continued down the hallway coming to a stop in front of a much larger doorway. He turned and then led them into a large dinning-hall crowded with sentinels and their apprentices, all merrily mingling in noisy conversations. Immediately Jacob noticed in front of the crowded fray a fancy table covered with a snow-white laced cloth. Sitting behind the table were men and women wearing dark suits and black dresses. In the very back of the room were closed doors connecting to annexing rooms, and branching out from the front table were six rows of plain wooden tables placed as crooked as half buried tree roots.
“Follow me guys!” shouted Mr. Pitts. And with the passion of a stampeding rouge elephant he held out his hands and pushed into the mob leaving a narrow path for them to follow. They weaved sporadically back and forth until finally arriving at a half-empty table, where a dark haired, middle-aged sentinel, missing several front teeth sat with two young apprentices. Reaching the edge of the table Mr. Pitts leaned over the tabletop and vigorously shook the other sentinel’s hand. “Hello, Marcus!” he said energetically. “Even though you didn’t know you were, thanks for saving us seats. And who are these two fine looking apprentices next to you?”
Jacob and Emalynn seated themselves on a long wooden bench directly in front of the other apprentices. Together they stared across the table at the other sentinel’s teeth, seeing gaping chasms in his smile. Finding it comical, Jacob leaned over and whispered in Emalynn’s ear, “I’ll bet you he could eat a cob of corn through a picket fence.”
At once Emalynn burst out in hysterical laughter, and in between her long strings of giggles and gurgles she snorted like a pig. The unknown sentinel not minding her foul chortling hissed out a greeting, “Mr. Pittssss, it’soos goods to sees yous againss.”
Upon hearing the sentinel’s slurred response, Emalynn lost it even more, laughing harder and louder. At length she brought her guffawing under control and then in a huff she poked Jacob in the ribs. “Now look what you did,” she whispered sharply, “you made me embarrass myself in front of everyone!”
Jacob rubbed his throbbing side wondering, “Why’d she blame me? She’s the one who laughed!
“Thiss heres Henrys Birkshires ans Susans Samuels. Boths froms sese dimensions ofs sese moderns,” said Marcus.
Henry was on the pudgy side with round dimpled cheeks, black hair and a thick dripping nose. In his hand he held a wet hanky that he was using to vigorously wipe off mucussy excretion from his lips. Susan had red curly hair, a wide forehead, and an assortment of dark freckles dotting her face in an odd collection that resembled the Big Dipper.
“Ands whos ares yours fines apprentisesss?” hissed Marcus.
Before Mr. Pitts could respond, a man in a black suit with a shinny bald head and a tall nose similar to a chicken’s beak arose from the center of the main table and began to address the diners.
“Welcome one and all. Sentinels, dignitaries, and of course our new apprentices,” shouted the fellow as the room fell quiet and those standing began to seat themselves. “As many of you may not know I am Doctor Verdimyer, the Magistrate and Administrator of Dimensional Keeping. We have gathered on this auspicious occasion to celebrate the arrival of you new apprentices. Every year apprentices from all over the world are hand selected to be underlings in apprentice training and assigned to our finest sentinels. You apprentices have been chosen from the very best to be trained by the very best, and it is our pleasure to welcome you here tonight. Now I know all of you are as alarmed as I am over the recent events. So, I want to take a few moments to reassure you that we are doing everything possible to recover the Book of Galeeky and hold the perpetrators responsible for their heinous actions. Many have expressed their concern over our ability to continue the sentinel-training program without the Book of Galeeky. But please rest assured that for the time being we’ll not be sending any apprentices home, you will all continue on with your assigned sentinels. In the meantime I will personally administer any and all apprentice testing myself. Now I know that you’re all hungry, so let’s dispense with formalities and eat our fabulous meal first. After dinner we’ll have introductions and you shall be privileged to hear from our fine Dallanbach dignitaries.”
Jacob had never been to a real banquet before, and having the opportunity to ingest some new fangled fancy chow excited him. “If the food is any where near as spectacular as this castle,” he eagerly thought, “then I’m gonna stuff myself like a greedy pig and make it a night that I’ll always remember.”
The doors behind the head table burst open, and out paraded three-foot tall servers pushing carts loaded down with trays of food. The bizarre male servers had long scraggly beards that stretched clear down to their knobby knees, and as they marched along they proudly brandished them like swinging brass pendulums. The female servers were just as showy, tossing their long unkempt hair up in the air with their hands, leaving behind them floating puffs of dust. Both male and female were dressed in nappy withered grass outfits with green saggy stockings drawn out to a point at the tip of their toes. Their unusual garb gave them the appearance of straggly marching bushes.
Mr. Pitts leaned over and quietly explained, “They’re called kobolds. They serve the magistrate by doing the castle chores along with cooking, serving food and stuff like that. Recently the magistrate fired all the paid help and brought them in. The strange little brownies refuse pay and only work for table scrapes, and if scrapes aren’t left they become very destructive.”
Jacob glanced around the room and noticed other sentinels pointing at the kobolds as they also instructed their apprentices.
“So we have been asked by the magistrate to leave them table scraps,” continued Mr. Pitts. “We do this by tossing food under the table. Now listen very carefully because this is important, please don’t hesitate to leave them very generous portions.”
“What happens if you don’t leave them generous portions,” asked Emalynn.
“Trust me you don’t want to know,” said Mr. Pitts. “But I did it once and only once, and I’ll never do that again! It took me over a month to grow back my plucked eyebrows.”
Emalynn ran her fingers over her eyebrows just as a kolbold waitress reeking with the smell of foul sweat jumped up onto their bench and began forcing herself between both Emalynn and Jacob. The waitress seeing Jacob’s hand resting on the bench lifted her foot and stomped, grinding his fingers with the heel of her foot. Despite her small size, to Jacob she felt as heavy as a full grown cow. His hand was throbbing, as he worked to pull it out from under her tiny foot. Brusquely the waitress then leaned into Emalynn’s shoulder and began pushing. Unwillingly Emalynn slid across the bench.
“Ouch, that hurt,” complained Jacob, rubbing his sore fingers with his thumb as he and Emalynn glared at the waitress.
From behind Jacob heard a sudden rattle and he turned to see another grimy faced kobald holding a muddy bucket full of table settings. The server reached into her bucket, and while giving him teasing wink she commenced throwing wooden bowls in rapid succession straight at his face. Taken aback Jacob froze, but just in the nick of time the first waitress stretched out her hand catching all of the flying bowls in sequence. After successfully collecting the series of thrown crockery, she stacked them carefully in a single pile and placed them on the tip of her chin. Next, while adeptly balancing the bowls, she gave the diners a flirtatious wink, extended her long tongue and flicked the edges of each bowl launching them directly onto the table.
“Euuugh!” complained Emalynn, as a bowl bounced in front of her. “There’s slobber on mine!”
The waitress ignored her complaint and continued flicking her tongue to set the remaining bowls. After finishing her work, she clapped her hands in front of her face, bent over, and took a drawn out bow as if she were soliciting applause. Unsurprisingly no one lauded her performance, and she retorted back by angrily scowling at each of them. Following her displeasure, she leaned over, slapped her hands on the tabletop, and began shaking her long frazzled hair back and forth. The waitress behind Jacob again reached into her bucket and Jacob, having seen her act before, ducked his head down. A series of flying spoons suddenly whizzed over the back of his neck. The timing of each throw was flawless, in perfect cadence with the waitress’ swinging hair, and one by one the wooden spoons stuck deep into the hub of her grimy ruff. When her frazzled mane had become completely packed with spoons, she stopped her swaying and began picking the spoons out of her knotted hair, offhandedly tossing them on the tabletop.
“Yuck!” protested Jacob as a spoon landed in front of him. “My spoons’ got her greasy hair stuck on it!”
“You think that’s bad,” moaned Emalynn, holding up her spoon, “mine looks like a fuzz ball.”
Ignoring their complaints, the stanch waitress once again clapped her hands and bowed, and when no applause was given she scrupulously scowled at each of them. After demonstrating her displeasure once again, she turned around, leaned over extending her buttocks over the table, and rested her hands on Jacob’s and Emalynn’s shoulders.
“Now what!” exclaimed Emalynn hotly, as she glared up at the surly waitress.
Straight away wooden cups started to fly, and once again Jacob was forced to bow low, scarcely evading the dangerous pitches. With skill obviously gained through years of practice, the waitress rapidly thrust her buttocks side to side, bouncing the thrown cups off her posterior to roll them perfectly up against the diners’ bowls.
“Well I never!” exclaimed Emalynn, appalled.
“Mighty good shots,” added Mr. Pitts. “I’ve never seen them miss!”
“Yeah, but what about when they serve the food,” added Jacob, feeling very uneasy over what was still to come.
Having completed her work the scowling waitress bowed and then jumped down from off the bench. Together with the other waitress, they marched onward to serve their next victims.
Abruptly the table vibrated, and Jacob turned to the side seeing marching directly over the tabletop towards them, four kolbold waiters.
“You didn’t have to wait long to get your wish Jacob,” said Mr. Pitts, shaking his head. “A general principium that you’ll soon be learning is that when in the castle an apprentice should never anticipate a good meal, because if you do the disappointment will be unbearably heartrending.”
Leading the procession of waiters were two muscular kobolds lugging a bulky wooden basin. Inside the basin a thick brown steamy stew sloshed back and forth, and dangling inside their beards were two long silver ladles. They stopped in front of the apprentices and set down their heavy load making loud grunts. Then bowing, as if they were about to perform a great feat, they clapped their hands in front of their faces and waited for applause. When no ovation came, they straightened up and walked around the basin scowling at each diner. Not yet satisfied, they leaned over the basin and began spitting into the stew while progressively bending lower to drag their long beards through the thick goulash. After thoroughly stirring the contents they came to a stop and pulled out their dripping beards with the ladles full of stew.
“Golly, you don’t suppose that’s how they are going to serve our diner do you?” asked Jacob.
“I’ve never seen anything like this!” exclaimed Emalynn, showing a sour face.
The waiters held their out arms, squatted low, and then jumped high into the air spinning with their beards swinging in an arch. From the full ladles and soaked beards, chunky brown liquid splattered across the tabletop filling their bowls.
“EEEEEEE!” screamed Emalynn. “THEY SPLATTERED ON ME!”
With their service now rendered, the brawny waiters picked up their basin and marched onward. The procession continued as a waiter approached carting a large pitcher of tinted green water in each hand. Casually he marched by pouring a mucky wave over the tabletop to fill their wooden goblets. The torrent of water splashed into the goblets and across the table top, washing the spilled stew straight into their laps.
“EEEEEEE!” screamed Emalynn again, as she hurriedly brushed off her legs with her hands.
“HEY FELLA, THAT WAS REALLY COARSE!” shouted back Jacob angrily.
The last waiter of the unwanted procession approached, dragging a hefty basket full of moldy biscuits. He stopped just short of Jacob, and one by one he stuck all of his fingers up his wide nose. Following his short intermission he grabbed a handful of biscuits and dropped them onto the table top with sharp thuds. Next using his soiled green socks, he carefully rolled the biscuits in front of each bowl of stew. Before marching off again he bowed with a finger up his nose, seemingly wanting applause, but with no forthcoming ovation he scowled at each of the diners and flicked buggers from off his fingers tips onto each of their biscuits. At length, after coating each and every biscuit thoroughly, he grabbed his basket’s handle and continued on his way, dragging his biscuits across the tabletop to serve his next customers.
Jacob stared at his meager meal in total disbelief. Inside his cup tinted green lumps of algae swirled about, and the smell from the chunky brown stew grievously carried the stench of rancid fish. With a desperate gasp he turned his head to the side for a breath of fresh air.
“EEEEEEEEEE!” screamed Emalynn once again, “SOMETHING’S MOVING IN MY STEW!”
Curious to see, Jacob took a deep breath and turned his head back to look inside her bowl. A wormlike creature swiveled through the muck. Stunned, he watched in awe as the long stringy insect wiggled its way around a black chunk of potato and disappeared off into the dark recesses of stew. Out of the corner of his eye he next caught a sudden glimpse of another unwelcome pest; a black cockroach mockingly poking its head out of his green moldy biscuit. This was by far the most disgusting meal he had ever set eyes upon, and he felt as if a despicable swindler had just cheated him out of all his money.
“Why I’ve fed better rubbish to our pigs back home on the farm!” he angrily exclaimed.
Emalynn jerked her face away from the table gagging, “Eeuuck,” she choked, and red in the face she coughed up some nasty dry heaves. After taking several deep recovering breaths, she looked back up at Mr. Pitts and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be very generous with my table scraps. They can have all of it!”
Straight away diners throughout the room began dumping their food under the tables. The smell was sickening, and waves of nausea passed over the assemblage, with some apprentices spewing vomit into their stew bowls. Jacob of course was the first at his table to dump his muck. After which he held his nose and then kindly helped Emalynn pour out her foul-smelling stew by thoroughly scraping her bowl with his wooden spoon, taking extra care not to splatter any putrid pottage onto their shoes. He then glanced toward the head table and shockingly watched as the top of the magistrate’s shinny baldhead bob up and down over his bowl. Voraciously he was digging into his stew with his wooden spoon, slurping down the foul mess with quick swallows. A sudden image of pig-feeding flashed into Jacob’s mind, and he recalled his days back on the farm when their fat swine would race across the pen to enthusiastically plunge their snouts into a trough full of slop, slovenly disposing of their grungy swill.
After the dumping of their meals the dignitaries began to present their speeches. The winded discourses focused only on local politics and were dreadfully long and intensely boring. And despite the lingering smell, it wasn’t long before sentinels along with their apprentices had their heads down on the tabletop, resting wearily on folded arms. Jacob and Emalynn managed to stay awake by watching Mr. Pitts with his drooping eyes routinely drop his head down to suddenly jerk it up again. Following each near nod-off Jacob and Emalynn simultaneously snickered to each other, giving them just enough energy and incentive to stay awake to watch it happen again.
From the hallway a sentinel expeditiously burst into the room. With considerable dispatch he ran up to the head table interrupting the magistrate’s biscuit munching. Exhibiting a notable grim face, the sentinel leaned down and whispered into the magistrate’s ear. Almost immediately the magistrate jumped to his feet and began shouting for everyone’s attention, “Excuse me! Quiet please! Let’s have a little quiet! I have an important announcement! We have an emergency orb alert happening. Our monitoring station has just picked up an orb distress signal, and as most of our emergency response team are already dispatched responding to other calls, we seem to be short handed. So I’m putting forth a request for assistance, any sentinels that would like to volunteer as stand-ins could you please come forward.”