"This is insane!" roared the Oil Baron angrily.
"I agree, S... S... Sir." stammered the frightened spy. Lester had been unlucky enough to have the dubious honor of discovering that the party from Italy had safely arrived in the Pizza Baron's lands. In his fifteen years of getting in and out of jams, he had never been more terrified than that second.
"You may go. But should you ever find yourself in such a situation again, I expect you to do more than just look and listen. Do we understand each other?"
"Yes Sir, a thousand apologies. I will do better to serve." Lester internally breathed a sigh of relief. He would never return to this nightmare of a barony, where information wasn't valued. Outwardly, he lowered his eyes and trembled.
Once his spy slunk out, Mr. Preda sat down to compose a letter. Copies would be sent to all of his allies.
"I have just been informed that a large group from Italy arrived in the Pizza Baron's lands. If you do not want him to become unstoppable, I invite you to meet with me. In my capital, in six days. We must remain united if we have any hope of eliminating this threat!"
Cyril decided that the only thing to do was keep going, no more stopping for anything. "Face facts! It's following you." he reluctantly admitted to himself.
Eleven hours later, he sighed in relief. Bladder close to bursting, he could see the city ahead.
"State your business." said the guard gruffly, showing no sign of opening the gate.
"Why are the gates closed? Was there a problem?" asked Cyril, curiously.
"Very funny. Just state your business or go back where you came from!" replied the guard, becoming impatient.
"Cyril. I'm here on the Baron's business."
"Last name?" asked the guard, picking up a notebook.
"Pikers." replied Cyril, wondering what could have happened.
"There's no Cyril Pikers - or any Cyril for that matter - on my list. Either you leave now, or I take you to the Baron, since you say it's his business. But I warn you: if he decides you aren't worth his time, you are likely to regret this."
"Please take me to him." Cyril said confidently. Surely Danny would clear this up, and tell him what on Earth happened!
As the guard led him through the familiar halls, some of the turns seemed entirely wrong. The furnishings were the same, but the layout was wrong. "Maybe I'm just imagining it... I am tired. And I need to find a bathroom!" reasoned Cyril.
The guard knocked on a familiar door. "Sir? This is Gate Guard Philip. A Cyril Pikers is here, said he's on your business."
"Send him in, and get back to your post." replied an angry voice from within.
"Danny! Am I glad to see you!" exclaimed Cyril, upon seeing the big man put down his pen.
"What did you just call me?" asked Danny in a low, dangerous voice, as his features and frame changed before Cyril's eyes, as did the room itself.
Cyril blinked. While he had only seen the Oil Baron once, at the Feast, he would recognize him anywhere. What had that THING done to his mind?!?!
Cover image made in Canva using their gallery