The Angels Saga

REBIRTH

Olde World Dominions

by

Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

Copyright 6181 SC

STORIES: 

PART ONE – OLDE WORLD DOMINIONS

A Woman's Voice

Wormdrogan

Keltarium

The Association of American Supreme States Helping Out Lovers Everywhere Superlatively

Zionistya 6

Sunshine and Rainbows 2

Madai & Javan's Lesson

Natalendriel

Uniford

Sunshine and Rainbows 3

Paradision III

Olde World Dominions

 Wormdrogan 2

 Keltarium II

The Edge of Taylor Swift

*PART TWO – THE OBLIVION TUBE*

 We've Gotten This Far

 Responsa Divinum

 Cookies

 Saruviel's Rebuke

 The Oblivion Tube

 Secure the Food Supply

 Kevin's Angst

 Sitting in the Chair

 Sheol Blues

 Keltarium III

 4 Rabbits

 Sunshine and Rainbows 4

 Raguel

 Saruviel: On Through the Sands of Infinite Progression III

 Zionistya 7

 Wormdrogan 3

The Association of American Supreme States Helping Out Lovers Everywhere Superlatively 2

 Phanuel and Brindabel 3

 Kevin's Angst 2

 Uriel

 Keltarium IV

 Slavery Questions

 Taylor Swift

 Ruth 28

 Wormdrogan 4

 God Made Me Special

 Keltarium V

 Uniford 2

 The New Districts of Zaphora II

 Dance With the Angels

 Wormdrogan 5

 Kevin's Angst 3

 Kelly and Her Platonic Buddy Kevin

 Cookies 2

 Saruviel's Rebuke 2

Saruviel's Rebuke 3

Keltarium VI

 Daniel 7

 Two Wives

Cloud Ten

PART THREE – RAINY DAYS

 Cloud Ten II

Passions

Harvest Tales

Rainy Days

Shemrael on Ice

Rainy Days 2

Shemrael on Fire

Harvest Tales 2

Paradision IV

Ruth 29

Paradision V

Rainy Days 3

Children of Destiny

Draven in Zaphon Library

Kwintakel at Senersphon

Maryanna the Cherubim

4 O'Clock 22

Rainy Days 4

Meludiel Makes Magic

Rainy Days 5

*PART ONE*

*OLDE WORLD DOMINIONS*

*A Woman's Voice*

Penidwael, the 96th female cherubim of the Realm of Eternity, walked

towards the cave.  The field was lush with flowers, and she felt like the

Queen of Bosnia, full of pride, full of nobility.  She walked towards the

cave, inching nearer to it step by step.  But then she came to the well,

and looked down into it.  She could spy countless coins. The well of the

Kalros Ranges, on the highest peak, in the meadow, near the cave, always

entranced her.  People came and climbed the mountain to cast in a penny,

and make a wish.  She cast in a penny ,and made a wish, and proceeded to

the cave.  She was soon at the entrance, and the dragon came out.

‘I have made a wish that you would speak true to me, dragon.’

The dragon looked at her.  ‘Why would I do that?  I am fabled for my

fabulous twisted tales.’

‘I wish to know one truth.  At the beginning, where you the firstborn of

eternity.’

‘I am the first, and the last, and the beginning and the end,’ said the

dragon.

‘Sounds indeed fabulous,’ replied Penidwael.

‘The first of dragons, and the last of dragons, the beginning of them, and

the end of them.  I sired the lot, and am judge of them all on any last day

you may throw at me.  I spoke truly.  As for my rank of birth mongst the

faerie folk, I came along soon enough.  Tis all you need to know.’

‘Thank you dragon,’ replied Penidwael.  ‘May I ride your back?’

The dragon lowered its neck and Penidwael  hopped on.   The dragon then

took to the skies.  Penidwael could see all of Zaphora and the new area of

the land also, and her eyes wandered over it avidly.

‘Those boots look mighty expensive,’ said the dragon.  ‘What are they made

of.’

‘Dragon skin,’ replied Penidwael.

‘Surely you jest,’ replied the dragon.

‘I tell as much truth as you, noble beast.’

‘Touche, fair Penidwael.  And I think your ride is finished.’  That said

the dragon turned upside down, and Penidwael fell hurtling to the earth.

‘Oh, bother,’ said Penidwael.  ‘I’ve not used the damn wings for aeons.’  

But she drew them out, and flexed them carefully.  Just before she hit the

ground she spread them, and managed to slow down just enough to hit the

ground with a thud, but otherwise intact.  She looked up at the dragon, who

flew majestically in the sky, and decided not to risk a dragon boot joke

again.  Once bitten, twice shy, Penidwael reminded herelf, and tripsed

through the meadow, down to the real world below, and back to her real life.

* * * * *

‘Aclyos is a heathen infidel!’ exclaimed Queen Jandy, the 41st female

Cherubim of Eternity, about the King of Aclyos, the cherubim Aclyophenes,

her twin.

‘My lady,’protested her lady in waiting, Gemmadel.  ‘You must not speak so

of the King.  He is our fair Lord and King.’

‘He sits with this tart Gwen of Locksley and sups with her as if she is his

own wife.  My God, the lady wears pants.  She is no lady.  She is a beast.’

‘Gwen is Robin’s daughter,’ replied Gemmadel.  ‘And the people fawn after

her in her father’s image.  She is of fame and lore and legend.  They all

adore her, and her bows and arrows, and her risk taking and her adventure.  

She has the heart of the people.  But I know in truth she is a lady.  It is

just her modern way to dress so.  Yet she does not go off into the modern

world, and never would.  It is just how some ladies are, dear Queen.  A

touch of the masculine within them.  I dare say you have heard in some

modern nations women play ‘Football’ and ‘Box’ and all sort of masculine

behaviours.  Gwen is far from such shenanigans.  She is a lady, queen.’

‘She is a boy in womens……well, not clothing.  Quite obviously.  And she has

dark designs on my husband, I am sure of this.  She won’t rest till she has

bedded him, and made herself queen in my place.’

‘Dear Lady Jandy, the King would never forsake his own twin and bride,’

protested Gemmadel.

‘Bah.  Here, help me put on my bra.  I must make use of this more modern

thing if I am to impress my Lord.  I shall put on a red dress, of modern

type, and order the jester to play a ‘rock n roll’ song when the king is

next around.  And we shall dance ‘The Twist’.

Gemmadel laughed. ‘I know my lady is jesting,’ she said.

‘I need the bra regardless,’ replied Jandy.  ‘It helps with my – cleavage.  

They are, as you can see, substantial, and a properly fitting bra is

ladylike enough.’

Gemmadel helped the queen put on her bra, and then put on the red dress,

which was quite formal and of the olde world.

‘I would say if you make friendship with Gwen it may go a way to a bridge

of understanding,’ said Gemmadel.  ‘She is not the marrying type.  At least

not to our king.  There are others she has known and loved, and she is

waiting a particular type of brave soul, one I fear more akin to her

father’s brave soul.  This I know from dialogue at court.’

‘Humph,’ replied Jandy.  ‘I’d not talk to the tart.’

‘I shall arrange her to visit,’ said Gemmadel.

‘You do that,’ replied the Queen.  ‘But I shall sip tea, and glare at her,

and remain silent.’

‘You will speak at length, my lady,’ replied Gemmadel.  ‘Or I’ll have words

to your mother.’

‘No!  Not Helda!’ excalaimed Jandy.  ‘I should sack you Gemmadel.’

‘You can’t do that.  I’m in the King’s employ, and he is quite specific in

what I can lecture you on to keep you on the straight and narrow.  I have

great leniencies.’

‘I shall speak to Gwen.  But she shall know her place.’

‘How could I expect anything else,’ replied Gemmadel, as the rain started,

and another afternoon passed in the Kingdom of Aclyos in the Olde World.

* * * * *

'Listen, Nadiel. The scroll of prophecy is firm and fixed. It is

immutable,' said the Jewish prophet Daniel, 7th male cherubim of eternity.

'It is a contraption of Gabriel and co, and not the Father's word,' replied

his twin Nadiel.

'Nay. Tis the very word of God,' declared the prophet.

Daniel spent the rest of the week reading commentary after commentary on

his own magnificent accomplishment, before retiring to a palace in Elam,

and thinking on the issue. Was he deluded? Could it just be the angels at

play, in the end, who inspired his 12 chapters divine? Could it be that he

had been taken for a fool all along? He could not imagine that could

possibly be the case in all of eternity. But Nadiel had made salient point

after salient point regarding the prophecies and their apparent

limitations, and Daniel was not, now, quite so sure of himself. He was,

now, not quite so sure of his standing. He sat, looking out over a field in

Elam, and was in a mood. It would need to be resolved. The twin would have

to be corrected, in time, and brought to the light. But then again, he

would have to listen, and observe her words, and cogitate thereon, for she

was not a fool nor a dullard, and had a good mind, and had insight in that

mind. Was she speaking truly? Did she really know that his book was of

angelic origin and nought more? And in that angelic origin was it, in the

end, ultimately a fallible document? He could not dare dream that

possibility, but had to. For he saw himself, in arguments in his own soul,

time and time again that certain completions of the prophecy appeared –

lacking. That it did not stand up to the toughest of inquistions. But, for

now, he would keep faith in his word, and give Nadie's commentary some

thought, but go on with his Torah observances and his Karaite faith, and

let Nadiel's protestations remain the views of the unlearned, not yet come

to grasp the inner mechanisms of the divine at play. Or so he hoped.

* * * * *

The ship sailed into the harbour. Nadiel was dressed in her dress with long

coat over the top, and stole away, into the night. A few leagues behind her

the assassin was following, the trail well understood, well marked. He came

to the shore, and spied the boat, now sailing away. He went to the harbour,

and looked at the posting of where the boat was headed. Jamaica. Very

interesting, he thought to himself. He looked after the boat, and turned,

walking steadily the 7 leagues back to the prior village.

Nadiel sat, counting her bronze coins. 456 of them. That should suffice.

Daniel. He was an idiot. Protective powers of a slug. Did not care at all

in the whole world about the fate of his twin these days. She was virtually

left to fend for herself. She looked out at the cliffs of Kuwait, and

watched as the shore steadily disappeared, and the long six month journey

to the first island began. The voyage had cost her 144 bronze coins, the

captain saying pour out some money, and she poured out so much, and he

looked at her and said 'We could use a maid for the helping with meals and

things,' and she had nodded. She was afraid. The council of 'Jarmaine' was

still not negotiating. They had an official assassin on her trail, and she

would barely be given notice if he chose to strike. He watched her. Every

year or so she spied him, in a corner of a tavern, or in a shop window,

peering at her, observing her. This was life in the 886thdisc of eternity,

an Olde World disc, which never changed its old values, and were women like

Nadiel were observed at every moment, a non-jewish woman, but a woman

indeed twin to a feared King, Daniel the Cherubim of Babylon, one its Kings

and Princes. If she could be caught up in a protestation of male dominance,

the Assassin would observe, and slinker up to her, and query her, just as a

citizen of the realm, and ask why doth the lady protest, and she would have

to answer as best she could. And if she was not truly feminine she would

end up with her throat cut, and waiting for her twin to bother praying her

up from Sheol. Blasted old world. But, in the end, she did not fear too

greatly, because despite the affectations towards modern angels of

Danielkind, she liked the old world moreso, and her twin was her thing more

now than in days of old, and she sailed the seas of the enormous 886th disc,

perhaps a woman of adventure, making money here and there, but returning to

her twin's lordship atimes, and submitting to his guidance, and lordship

upon her life. Even if not one of marital bliss and happiness, for he had

wives, and Nadiel was not for marrying to Daniel, not that he was against

an Asian bride, but more that he felt strength in her being the supportive

kind of twin as many did.

'I like salami's of various kinds,' said Nadiel to the captain. 'I cook

well with them.'

'We have a store of at least a dozen or so for our long voyage,' replied

the captain. 'And enough eggs for a few dozen omelettes before we are few.

We'll have a good meal tomorrow evening, but more scarce rationing will

come forth thereafter.'

Nadiel nodded, and went below to examine the pantry. She took stock of the

food, and the cook, drunk, smiled at her, and said 'Ye are welcome to do

all the cooking if you wish, jade queen.' She decided she would. She did

not think she could trust a meal cooked by such a gruffian.

And so they set sail, onto an endless ocean, for an island six months

distant, in a very long voyage to Jamaica, which would take, normally, from

her experiences, many a long yeart. But the assassin of Jarmaine was far

behind her, and perhaps would not follow this time, and so she settled into

this fair sojourn, and let the wind take her were it would.

* * * * *

Sharakalaniel was the 8th of the female Cherubim of Eternity. She was wise,

and old, and stately. She lived in a regal home, and decked herself

resplendid. Her twin was the Cherubim Ezeqiel, who hung around with the

other bad boys, Semyaza and co. Sharakalaniel was fond enough of her own

twin, but mostly kept her own affairs in these times. She lived as Queen,

Overseer, in the 700,148th disc of the Realm of Eternity, a discworld based

on the Olde World of things. She was that way, and did not like the modern

trends, and lived regally, in true fashion as befitted her status in the

rankings of Cherubim. Sharakondra she did not understand – all the power

and the glory under heaven available to her, and she ran a dismal modelling

agency, and got by on looking at pictures of vain beauty queens, when she

could have unlimited servants by taking up her overseer position of her own

disc and working with that. But to each their own. Sharakalaniel had

majestic clothes and majestic furniture, majestic carriages and majestic

estates. Her army at her command was large and strong, and well armed, but

mostly a thing of show, apart from an occasional need to bring marshal law

here and there in the disc to localities which were getting a little too

lively. She lived royally, she certainly acted royally, and that was what

she wanted and that was exactly what she got.

'Listen, Hardfifth. I do not need you lecturing on me on affairs of state,'

said Sharakalaniel.

'Your majesty, I am in your emply to do exactly this,' replied the

counsellr Rodrick Hardfifth.

'At my beck and call. Restrict yourself, and do not speak on the issue

again. The council of Olde World Dominions shall not have my subscription.

I'll be serving blasted Aclyos in the end at the head of such a council,

this I am without a doubt on, and he shan't have my crown.'

'A dominion is in our best interests,' replied Hardfifth. 'And you would

have equal sovereignty in all decision making.'

'Initially,' replied Sharakalaniel. 'But I know Aclyophenes. He's a crafty

old soul. Nay, speak not again on this issue.'

'As you wish your majesty,' replied Hardfifth.

The queen withdrew then to her chambers, and her lady in waiting helped her

take off her dress and corset. 'Fetch me a bra,' she said. 'I won't need

the corset this evening. My twin will be dining with me and has no need of

such vanities,' said Sharakalaniel to her lady in waiting.

The maid soon brought Sharakalaniel a bra, and helped her fit it on, and

soon the queen was in a more, certainly not common, but more plain dress of

simpler state, and looked in the mirror. 'I look appropriate, would you not

say?' she asked her lady in waiting.

'Her majesty always looks appropriate,' replied the maiden.

'Indeed,' replied Sharakalaniel.

That evening Ezeqiel supped with the queen in the private dining hall, not

the main hall were guests were often present, and they chatted about life,

and she caugh up with her twins comings and goings. And she exhorted him to

consider his own disc sometime and perhaps introduce some needed decorum

into his manners and ways of life. Yet he reminded her, when he pinched her

bottom, just what Ezeqiel the cherubim was made of, and while she giggled a

little, she was far from impressed. Not the fitting twin for eternal

devotion, certainly not at this point in his grand venture of life. But she

softened her heart, for Ezeqiel was her twin, and the night ended with a

dance, and she was happy enough with that. And then she retired for the

evening, thinking over the idea of the council of olde world dominions,

despite herself, and other thoughts also, as another day passed in the

700,148th disc of the realm of eternity, another day of life.

* * * * *

Penidwael looked at the invitation. Jandy the Cherubim had invited her to

come visit her in the 41st disc of the Realm of Eternity, an Olde World

Disc. In the older days the 229th disc had been the limitation of olde

world dominions. By no means was every disc to that point of the realm and

Olde World Disc, but some where. Yet, in time, other discs had gravitated

to the ancient style of doing things, and newer olde world dominions sprung

up all the time the further you went towards the rim. For example the large

886th disc of the realm was entirely olde world, and Sharakalaniel lived an

ancient world in the 700,148th disc. All between them, and further out

still were old world dominions here and there, places filled with angels

and now humans who took to the older world values, findind the modern way

of living not to their liking. Penidwael herself usually lived in Zaphora,

but had been gravitating to things faerie like over time, and it was the

olde world were the strength of faerie was really known. When people

believed in the magic.

'Dragon of Lies. Tell me the truth. How old are you and what is your magic?

Penidwael asked the dragon of the Kalros ranges.

The dragon considered the angel. She could be yummy, but eating angels

carried a severe penalty from the creator.

'My magic is legend, and all legends are true are they not. After all were

there is smoke – there is fire,' and the dragon blew out of his mouth a

huge torrent of flame into the skies.

Penidwael stood her ground. 'You talk in riddles, for the truth will help

conquer your breed,' said Penidwael.

'Then riddle me this, riddle me that, who is afraid of an overgrown rat? Or

is it a bat? We're definitely not cats? How do you speak?'

'Monkey's. Full of trickery and foolishness,' replied Penidwael.

'Alack, alas, they are of your kind, just lower down the scale, woman of

trickery,' said the dragon.

'I am going to the 41st disc shortly,' said Penidwael. 'And dragon's are

there in abundance. If you were taken there by large aeroplane, would you

travel their with me for an extended stay, and mix with your own kind.'

The dragon snorted, and scratched its back with its mouth.

'Chocolate,' said the dragon.

'What about chocolate?' asked Penidwael.

'Can you provide me with a large supply of chocolate for the trip. And a

large video screen so I may watch fantasy movies. I would like to watch the

Lord of the Rings trilogy and the Hobbit. Smaug is a champion of our kind.'

'Anything else?' asked Penidwael.

'An ample supply of hay for me to rest in, and that should suffice.'

'Then you will travel with me?' asked Penidwael.

'A change,' said the dragon. 'Is as good as a holiday, fair Penidwael.

Besides, I get lonely as well, and haven't bothered flying off outwards for

a long time. Will be good for me, and I might shed some skin when I get

there, and go for a dip or two.'

'Fascinating,' replied Penidwael. 'I'll take that as a yes then. I will

arrange things, now, henceforth. Till we meet again noble dragon.'

The dragon snorted, scratched its back once more, and nodded to Penidwael,

returning to his cave.

Penidwael looked at the dragon as it departed, smiled a little at its

sarcasm, and turned, returning herself to her real world, ready for her

next adventure.

* * * * *

He was drunk again. The cook. He was always drunk. She'd done all the

cooking so far, and each night she would see the bottles of rum show up on

her kitchen bench, and she would take them, and store them in the recycling

bin, with the other empty bottles of grog, which would be traded in with

the bottle man, which you found at most ports of call, who would pack them

up and send them back to the original supplier for a small fee. The cook,

whose name was Theodore Atkins, was a renowned drunk, and everyone on board

had informed Nadiel not to expect too much from him now with her doing the

cooking. And she had to do the lot. They were a transport ship for the most

part, but also a passenger ship for a small number of people. There was one

couple and a single gentleman also on board, apart from the crew. The ship

was full of storage boxes carrying this and that item, currently quite a

load headed for Jamaica, but also other ports of call. Jamaica would take

them several years to get to – 5 or so - at least the particular branch of

Jamaica they were headed to. This disc was a vast world, like all discs,

with so many parts of the various traditional countries scattered all over

the disc, with an array of other new nations and some particular to this

disc also, nations founded by this and that pioneer of adventure,

determined to build their own nation and make their own name.

'Theodore. You are lazy,' said Nadiel and kicked the drunkards boot.

'I can cook dinner this night,' said the cook in a slurred tone, and got to

his feet with a stagger, looked at Nadiel, belched, the smell of it being

atrocius, and looked at the kitchen. Then he reached into his overcoat,

produced a full bottle of rum and said 'I'll just have a sip to warm the

cockles.' Then he took a sip, and collapsed back down on the pile of empty

sacks in the corner of the kitchen and started singing bawdy sea songs.

'Pathetic,' said Nadiel, glared at him, and started peeling potatoes. She

truned to Theodore, brandishing her kitchen knife, and said 'I should shove

this up your cockles, you old goat.'

Theodore raised the bottle of rum to her in a toast-like fashion and sang

'The she-whore from Salford, she'd the smartest of wits, but not for such

was she famous, stead it was her big.....'

'Cretin!' screeched Nadiel, and kicked the cook in his boots once more,

which only brought a chuckle in response.

Nadiel returned to her potato peeling, enduring the lewd balladeering of

the cook, as the boat rocked from side to side, continuing its voyage.

* * * * *

'The virtues of the olde world are inscribed in the nature of creation,'

said Sharakalaniel. 'They are the natural things of angels and men. The

modern world is a different world, were values were reviewed and redefined

and reshaped. They got so many things backwards, and out of order, and

because of so much secular viewpoint they let go of what worked and started

working with what didn't. They did settle, but men were no longer men –

women were. The feminine retreated and the bane of sense, equality, reared

its ugly head, and they were lost for understanding devoted relationship,

more concerned with getting laid, and not always with that of the opposite

sex, I do say. Still, to this day, they argue and moan, and will not do the

work in the home which is set by nature for each to do, and the women still

crusade for their equal right, and the men still retreat to their man

caves, the last bastion of male pride. Still, the future world got over a

lot of the idealism of the politically correct, and returned to a more

natural way of things, imbued with new and grand technology, but the

children born in time sensible enough, with all their vast liberties

available to them, to not really give a damn and just do what they wanted

to do. And the natural instincts returned, and as they did not care, the

Lord moulded sanity back into society, and Han Solo bedded Leia, and a

rogue was still a rogue. They still remembered the difference of the sexes,

while the in between confused everything.'

Ezeqiel picked up the scroll Sharakalaniel had presented to him and began

reading through it. He picked himself up, and went to sit on the couch in

the corner of the room, next to the fireplace, and read the evening away.

Sharakalaniel observed him, wondering his thoughts on her writing, but let

it be. Best he think over what was written a day or two before she query

his response. She picked at the plate of dinner, now cold, still on the

table in front of her, and took a glass of wine. She sipped slowly, and

stared at the clock above the fireplace. Her thoughts meandered. She

thought on her world, and its values, and then she thought on the comings

and goings of her servants, and then she thought on the room she was in,

and how life was suited to her in what she represented, and had made its

image in what she represented, because that was what she wanted. And the

justification for all this she believed was found in that others, too,

agreed with her, and found their values agreeable with her own. Birds of a

feather she finally thought, before she picked herself up, came and kissed

Ezeqiel on the cheek who was stll reading, wished him a good night, and

retired to her chamber, tired at the end of another day.

* * * * *

Daniel the prophet of Israel looked at the letter. It was dated 3 years

prior, from his twin. Sent from an Island a fair distance from Elam, south

west along the ocean, a stop-off place to greater isles. It had travelled

on a ship, up to Arabia, and sent from there to Elam. She was working as a

cook, on a ship, her passage paid in bronze coins, but only as a token, for

she had to work as cook to satisfy the fare set by the captain. To Jamaica

she was bound, to lose the trail of the Jarmaine assassin, who bothered her

yet still. Daniel thought on that. Quite an amusement. 40 odd years of

outspoken behaviour on modern values from Nadiel had broght the ire of the

council of Jarmaine, and they'd spoken with Daniel and told him they'd

assigned an assassin to kill her if necessary, if she at all displayed such

future flagrant unbecoming behaviours. He nodded, and declared their legal

right, and left the situation be. But he'd spoken with Nadiel and she knew

she was a marked woman and that, with her shrewish temperament, she'd best

keep her judges at a distance, and travel a constant, and mind her words,

for they'd do her in at a moments notice should they be given legal

opportunity from a foolish word or deed Nadiel spoke in her modern

paradigm. She hissed at him that evening, but softened later, and said they

had no right to enforce such a barbarity. But he'd reminded her that values

were cultural and not all cultures shared the same worldview and that in

the olde world, which she confessed she preferred for their civility, she

would have to be cautious. If she could but settle down, and mind her

business, she would do well. But Nadiel is as Nadiel does, so she chose a

self imposed exile, and would be her self, in the olde world, and travel a

constant, escaping the judgmental eyes of her assassin follower, never

giving him opportunity to make good their decree upon her soul, never

giving them opportunity to find guilt with which they could soundly, quite

bluntly, do her in. Daniel had a supply of her letter, her adventures, and

he kept them in a chest, where he read them from time to time, and both

sighed and laughed at her ongoing frustrations, of finding acceptance, and

trying to persuade those set in their ways to adapt to a more liberal

understanding. But he could sense something, as time passed. She was

softening. Whether she liked it or not, she was softening, and adapting,

and gone was much of the vocabulary of the modern worlds, and her reliance

so much on their traditional comforts, for it seemed she was his twin in

the end for a reason, finding it hard to fit into a world she only

considered of value at its own historical period, which the realm had been

once, but had progressed hence into more civilize culture since. But then,

when Daniel had gravitated back to the old ways, and gradually left modern

trends alone in their modern worlds, she had ultimately followed, and was

going through growing pains, as it where, to find her salvation in the old,

and not in the new. Such was the trial of Nadiel the cherubim. He looked at

the letter, and read it twice, then took it to the chest, and filed it

away, and returned to his work that evening. But the night had spent the

last of his energy, and he turned to his bed, and knelt and prayed a prayer

for his twin's welfare, before getting in and settling down, blankets

covering him for the cold night, a day done, a new one beckoning.

* * * * *

They picked up a new passenger at Arcuda, where the single gentleman left

them. The new passenger was a diplomatic looking fellow, in fine clothing

one might imagine from upper class London society. Nadiel served him his

dinner in his cabin one evening, and he thanked her and asked her a

question.

'Nadiel the Cherubim. Why are you so stubborn?'

'Excuse me,' replied Nadiel. 'How do you know my name? Did the captain

mention it?'

'You are known, somewhat, in the disc. Regardless, your person comes into

my dialogue from time to time. The Council of Jarmaine is not that

impressed with you, as you know,' replied the gentleman.

'Jarmainian scum,' swore Nadiel. 'You are a curse to me.'

'Is that so,' replied the man. 'You take offense at the council?'

'I know they rule this damned discs virtues. I can't escape it wherever I

go. This olde world hates the modern more than most of the other

dominions,' replied Nadiel.

'Indeed,' said the man. 'Nay, I am not of the council. I merely interact

with them in my regular affairs.'

'Oh. I apologize for my words. They were hastily spoken.'

The man nodded, and took his meal, starting to eat.

'How do you know me?' asked Nadiel.

'You were mentioned,' said the man, not looking up. 'In dialogue regarding

the upcoming council discussions. It was suggested you speak for the

suffragettes.'

'Bah. They are timid as church mice,' replied Nadiel. 'They have no power

of true feminism.'

'They are much as our world will allow,' replied the man. 'But we do allow

them voice, when they constrain themselves to their place in the world. It

was suggested you speak on their behalf in the upcoming discussions.'

'What upcoming discussions?' asked Nadiel.

'The Council of Olde World Dominions intends to be formed. Aclyos is

pushing it heavily. Gwen Locksley has been selected from the 17th disc, the

oldest disc of Olde World habitation, to speak for the femme. Your

continued presence among us, the twin of Daniel who dwells here, has made

you, with your modern views, probably the logical choice to speak for the

fairer sex. You will speak with as much passion as you can, and we know it

well. That should suffice enough with what conditions you are able to

appropriate for women's affairs.'

'That is a joke,' said Nadiel. 'Not even anything approaching modern

values. The whole political world going on about women's affairs as if they

give a damn.'

'Oh, but we do,' replied the gentleman. 'There are hygiene issues which we

must ensure our women have proper access to, and a certain degree of

appropriate education and work responsibilities is being fleshed out even

as we speak to come to the appropriate and correct balance. Nay, I can't

say anything really has changed. But a woman has always had a place in the

world. We are attempting to formulate, as I said, the appropriate and

correct balance between the sexes.'

'I see,' replied Nadiel. 'And is this issue a part of the planned olde

world dominions?'

'If you keep your head,' it shall be. 'Lest Jarmaine run you through

beforehands for a too outspoken act of feminism.'

'Humph,' replied Nadiel. She went silent. 'Who would I speak to regarding

any such duty?'

'Speaking with me would suffice,' replied the man. 'I represent most

interests of British departments. Three kings have given me their seal of

approval. My name, of course, is Claude Montgommery. A lesser noble, but

somewhat well known public servant.'

'A good pleasure to meet you, Mr Montgommery. I shall consider your offer.

Which British domain would I be best to visit and express my interest?'

'King Alfred of Norwich is my greatest benefactor. London far up north

would be your best bet.'

'Very well. I shall consider the idea,' replied Nadiel. 'Enjoy your meal.'

And Nadiel curtsied, and left the man to eat in peace. She returned to the

kitchen, and kicked the drunken cook in the foot once more, but was

thinking over the words of Mr Montgommery, and the potential impact she

might have for the changes she felt she might want to impart to this

discworld.

* * * * *

Gemmadel sat by, crocheting, observing. The room was akin to the arctic –

the conversation icy, what little of it there was. Gwen played her cards in

her card game with Queen Jandy in stony silence, and Jandy seemed not the

protestor to the silence. They were quite happy to stay silent, neither

desiring the conversation of the other party. Gemmadel would spark things

up with her wisdom.

'Aclyos has a beard belonging three eras prior,' said Gemmadel. 'To say he

is old fashioned is an understatement. He is hardly 17th century

kingliness.'

'Barely the beginning of his archaic ways,' commented Jandy. 'Still, I'd

not change a thing. It is his grandeur which makes him appropriate royalty

for our world.'

'I dare say that would be true enough,' said Gwen. 'Grandness does come to

mind on Aclyophenes. Ancient ways, too. His Greek lore is in depth. The

gods speak through him still.'

'Indeed,' replied Jandy. 'Still, for these things I treasure him if truth

be known. He is stability in personal form. Little will he change his ways

or attitudes, and my comfort, as a Queen who is known for being a Queen of

strength, but still just that – a Queen – is that my King knows how to be a

King, and not an effeminate court loverboy. They are almost too obvioius,

with their neck scarves, and that tone in their voice. I mean, come on, is

it a universal law that they must all talk as such? Must be a spirit of

ancient sodom at play or something. A universal truth of gay lore and

custom.'

'The loverboy's attract a regent prince or two from other dominions,'

stated Gwen. 'Those Frenchies have a large supply it seems, and Aclyos does

well to keep the Loverboy's in his employ. The strength of the Kingdom of

Aclyos is its practicality, and insight into how human's truly function. We

are not governed by morality. We are governed by desire versus instinct.'

'An interesting philosophy for an English lady, so many of whom caught up

in Elizabeth's chastity club. But, of course, you are not like that, are

you fair Gwen,' replied Jandy.

'Queen Jandy has such a sense of humor,' wisely interrupted Gemmadel. 'I am

quite sure you are as chaste as any a maiden of your standing.'

'Naturally,' replied Gwen, looking guiltily away from the other two.

'He has chosen you, of course, to champion the femme in his olde world

council. I am sure he has chosen wisely. In his own careful thinking,' said

Jandy, the slightest stress on the word careful, a stress not misunderstood.

'Indeed he has,' interrupted Gemmadel for the second time. 'Gwen shall

champion us with skill and determination. No better spokeswomen I can think

of.'

'Indeed,' replied Queen Jandy.

'Indeed,' finished Gwen.

* * * * *

The Aeroplane landed safely and soundly, having travelled quite quickly

from Zaphora to the 41st disc of the realm, to the dominion of Aclyos on

the disc. Seraphim Kalenuel was overseer of the 41st disc of the realm, the

disc of Kalenuphora, the capital city being Washington. It was an extremely

large disc, and was predominantly of a culture of east American in nature.

But there were a large supply of other nations present, in fact,

technically, all major early cultures were represented here and there, and

there was a strong presence of olde world dominions, the largest of which

being the Kingdom of Aclyos, ruled by Cherubim Aclyohphenes. Aclyophenes

was Greek in his cultural heritage, of middle ages period in things, and

his culture was solidly middle ages bordering on renaissance. There was a

small degree of technology present, which was not necessarily disavowed,

but by far from the norm of the land. In olde world dominions capital

cities, in the prestigious upper class sections, would assume for

themselves a certain degree more of modern contraption, which was afforded

by their wealth and standing, in the general way the olde world judged

itself. By all means, though, dip right into modern world society and tech

galore, but why really bother with the olde world if that was your fancy.

That was the truisms which prevailed throughout the olde worlds of the

realm, and these customs were quite literally enforced as both custom and

rule of law. It attracted those who did not want or need the comforts of

the modern lifestyle, who were more akin to the natural world of ancient

history, and were electricity and computers and things were not to be

touched, lest it was a scientist of considerable standing, who may afford a

calculator or some such similar device, being deemed appropriate in that

culture and way of thinking in the olde world.

'How was your trip, Dragon?' asked Penidwael.

'It's good to be out of that monstrosity,' replied the dragon. 'I fear my

hay is full of more dung than all the chamber pots you could find in all

Aclyos.'

'I did notice,' replied Penidwael. 'Did you enjoy your chocolate and movie

entertainment.'

'Gollum was a delight,' replied the dragon.

'Why does it not surprise me you'd say as such,' said Penidwael.

'Do I flap my wings hence, or have you a sufficient chariot for the next

part of our journey?' asked the dragon.

'That mountain range,' said Penidwael, pointing to a mountain range to the

north of the airport. 'Follow it till it ends in a large lake. Go to the

northern side of the lake, and you'll find the King's Highway. Aclyos'

throne city is at the end of that highway.'

'I shall enjoy my trip then,' replied the dragon. 'But take my time. And

that lake sounds ideal for a day or two of frolicking. I wonder, these

mountains? Are they known for my kind?'

'50 leagues northward of here the border of Aclyos begins. This was the

closest I could get us, as there are not air or spaceports in the Kingdom.

But I have heard you may indeed find olde world dragons here and there in

Aclyos. Good luck.'

The dragon smiled its dragon smile at Penidwael, stretched its wings, and

took to the air. Penidwael watched it fly north, and smiled, then continued

on to get her luggage and resume the rest of her journey.

* * * * *

Daniel examined the scroll. '500 gold pieces?' he queried the messenger.

'Why so many?'

'It would guarantee your presence. The money is redeemable at the end of

the conference. King Aclyos does not want committed attendees who do not

show due to other unforseen circumstances. The money is also far less than

he wanted, but was convinced of a far more reasonable sum by various

parties.'

'Queen Jandy no doubt,' commented Daniel, looking again at the invitation.

'3 years notice? Plans are made very slowly in the olde world. Much time is

needed for consideration. Why so sudden?'

'It is an inquisition, nothing more. Official just an inquisition. Into the

proposal of a council of Olde World Dominions in practical reality. A

discussion on the idea by various notaries of the olde world. He has

invited over 3000 to the conference, and it is to be set in a grande

chamber indeed, one of the largest halls of parley I have ever seen. You

might almost consider it a conference room of the very modern world, if

such a thing was not unbecoming to our way of life.'

'Indeed,' replied Daniel. 'I'll not pay. But I'll attend. He has my word on

that. Take that message to Aclyos.'

'As you wish, noble King of Chaldeans.' The messenger bowed, and left, and

Daniel returned to his desk. It was a bit of a hide asking for 500 gold

pieces to attend a mere inquiry, but it would seem Aclyos was quite serious

in the new plans he had made. They were known well enough, his desire for

this olde world united dominion. It had been posited he desired good trade

and a degree of universalization of some legal precepts. A more common

understanding on things. Realm law often wanted to interfere, the degrees

of eternity's political system, but the olde world paid all of that scant

regard. Old policies from the heyday of the Realm of Eternity prevailed,

but the olde world had long ago gotten over playing ball with the

machinations of the political powers of the realm. They'd do it the olde

way, and not bother to sign treaties and alliances and trade agreements and

all the modern things which the realm was full of. They were the olde

world, they did not need all its modern luxuries and all its modern

conveniences. But in the thinking and logic of the olde world, as

Aclyophenes reasoned, there was a decorum and approach for a certain degree

of common unity, and it was this subject he wished broached. Daniel would

attend, more for personal interest than anything, and see what would come

of the matter. But, for now, his regular Kingly duties, and the next move

in his chess game against a noble in the court, a good friend, who had made

a good move with a bishop, which Daniel had been puzzling on for days.

* * * * *

'Robin Hood – is a legend,' said Noah.

'And so is a giant boat full of beasts two by two,' replied Gwen of

Locksley.

'Touche, fair maiden,' replied the Ark Builder. 'But in this life eternal

legends become real. And what was myth transforms into historical fact.'

'So, tell me. Was it two pairs of everything, or seven pairs of

everything?' queried Gwen.

'The scripture elucidates the answer,' said Noah. 'Two of unclean, seven

pairs of clean.'

'And that is historical fact, then, is it?' asked Gwen.

'The scripture is the record and the record is the scripture. You'll get no

more detail from me than what is recorded. Less you have a deep abiding

interest in the covenant faith, that is.'

'Mmm,' replied Gwen. 'I'm probably too much of a Roman Catholic for such a

reality,' said Gwen. 'At least in tradition. Jesus is the love of my life,

and I'll not swap him for a rainbow warrior.'

'Nor should you, fair maiden,' said Noah. He looked at the map in front of

him. 'The 41st disc of the realm of Eternity. Done in the olde style. The

cartographers of this epic must be proud of themselves. I notice the

skyscrapers representing the major modern cities. Cute touch.'

Gwen looked down at the map. 'The differentiation of modern and olde, and,

if you notice, here on the right, the lovely space ship of future world, is

something they've done quite deliberately.'

'Why?' asked Noah.

'This map is popular,' said Gwen. 'And they olde world wants to remind its

citizenship in no uncertain terms what the olde world is, and what it is

not.'

'I see,' said Noah.

Gwen took out a cross from her pocket, and handed it to Noah. He examined

it. 'An emblem of your faith?'

'It's not my faith,' she replied. 'It's my tradition. I have faith in God,

not in Jesus of Nazareth. He's fallible humanity, and I am not naieve. But

our tradition is strong, and I shan't betray it.'

'Do you have classical artwork on the arks?' asked Noah.

Gwen looked at him. 'I have a piece with my family, at their estate. In a

box. A collection of various pieces of artwork, cut out from a more modern

magazine.'

'I see,' said Noah. 'Would you partake of an artist friend of mine and his

ongoing work of ark picture painting? He has a central work he modulates

regularly, with variation of colours. He's an endless supply to work

through, well, nearly. And he is currently doing purple with burgundy

styles. You could put it up at home?'

'A kind gesture,' replied Gwen. 'Now, father. What do you wish to ask me?'

'Aclyos sent me a letter. Not long ago. He queried how the children of

heaven handle the subject of femininity and the apparent rights of the

fairer sex since the beginning of things. And, not so much to share that

knowledge with me, but yourself, who he intends to represent as a

spokesperson in his upcoming council.'

'Yes, I know,' said Gwen. 'Well then. What would you say?'

'That life creates its own rules, regardless of the times and what people

think should be,' said Noah. 'And that nobody follows tradition in the end,

but that they do as they damn well please. And when they get very old they

are set in their ways, and gravitate to where they belong instead of

reshaping the world in their image. The olde world has shaped itself by a

populace who prefer the olde world's way of things. You nearly need know

from the children of heaven that we love our women, and they speak their

mind freely when pressed to do as such.'

'I see,' said Gwen.

'So speak your own thoughts, and don't hold back, for Jarmaine won't

criticize your right to express yourself at a council formed for that

particular point. He may indeed disagree, but your expression will be

allowed.'

'Then I will have to think long and carefully upon my words,' said Gwen.

Noah nodded and looked at the map. 'I'll have that painter sent to you when

you return to Londinnum.'

'As you wish, father,' replied Gwen of Locksley.

* * * * *

Jarmaine was a Muslim. His breed was Quran alone as the principle of

guidance. He also accepted the Rainbow Torah as his offical religion. Islam

was the creation of Mohammed, and not Allah, let his name be praised. But

after a billion prayers to Allah in the name of Islam that ceased to be

much of an issue anyway. The community was established, and Jarmaine,

having been born into that community, was a part of it, and that was just

the way it was. And then he died and came to the New Terra new arrivals

department, and they shuffled him off to New Terra 47. And then he applied

for a visa to the Realm of eternity, and settled in the 886th disc of the

realm, and having found work, his visa was renewd many times, as his

employers always commented on his reliability to immigration. And he

applied for a permanent visa and, due to his outstanding record, it was

approved. He was dark skinned, from Africa, and his friends were muslims of

similar nature in various locales in the 886th disc, and Rophiel the

Seraphim, Mohammed himself, was as popular as any of the iconoclasts which

dominated the realm of eternity. And in the name of Rophiel he gathered

friend muslims, and founded the council of Jarmaine. And it grew. In time

they made allegiances with Christians and Jews and Noahide groups, and in

Noahidism he found his official faith. And in the olde world which

gradually took shape in the 886th disc, he settled, for it was what he had

prayed for somewhat, and what he was given, and with his council they

formed a lore of work which was the morality codes of much of the thinking

of many. They were the traditions and ways of life in the olde world which

Jarmaine insisted upon, and was strong in his views, and they came to

dominate at times. But it was not the only agenda, for each religion kept

its own individuality, alongside the standard Seraphim and Cherubim Torah

teaching and communities of the Realm, but it was strong, and an interest

group, and it represented one of the powers of the Olde World. And while

Jarmaine had not foreseen his destiny, nor much planned it out to be as

such, that is how things came out. Within the Council of Jarmaine, though,

as would find in any religion of intent, where the more fundamental

members, those who took its teaching very seriously, and to heart, and were

of a view that the 'Lukewarm' needed to be corrected and admonished and

guided more clearly to 'See the Light'. And in that spirit was 'Dominic of

Laville' to see his purpose in life. For the 'Lavilleans' were a secret

order within the Council of Jarmaine, and they would ensure its message and

work were represented and upheld in society and, when things which reared

their ugly heads, like the intent of King Aclyos and his recent desire for

a council of olde world dominions, it was an issue of interest and news,

but when within that intent there was a voice to be given to women to speak

their mind, like a man should and like only a man should, then the

Lavilleans would take keener interest. And as the role of women was set in

stone, as Eve, being the help meet, must submit to her husband, measures

were deemed necessary to be taken. And the Lavilleans were not unfamiliar

with the more serious measures, as any history student of the wars of Jihad

and Crusade could dutifully inform you.

* * * * *

'A dragon is as a dragon does,' said the dragon. 'And I am in a frisky

mood, my dear. How about it?'

'I'm a Wyvvern, you imbecile,' said the black and golden wyvvern. 'We are

not compatible.'

'Oh, we are compatible my dear. Dragvern's are common. And I've met many a

feisty Wyvvagon that I know all too well our coupling is divinely ordained.'

'Keep on dreaming,' said the wyvvern, proudly. 'Besides. You have a

reputation. My father told me all about the pride of Kalros Hill. Thinks

himself the ruler of our kind.'

'But I am my dear. The noblest and fiercest of the lot,' said the dragon,

and breathed out a bolt of fire in demonstration of his proud words.

'Will take more than that to bed me, dragon of pride. And a Dragvern is

hardly fitting as the firstborn of noble Rhaemliel Genta Bloodfire,'

replied the wyvvern.

'A virgin as well. Tis my lucky day,' said the dragon, and he came forward

and rubbed his head against the wyvverns neck.

'Smooth are you,' said the wyvvern, drawing away. 'But you'll not conquer

me.'

The dragon continued rubbing her neck, and with a claw scratched her back.

'Does that feel good?' He asked.

She turned and looked at him, and batted her eyelashes. The dragon grinned,

and came behind, and mounted her. A few hefty heaves and pushes, and, his

seed burning into his mistress, he withdrew, and lay down, promptly falling

asleep. She lay down next to him, bewailed her lost virginity for a moment,

but let it pass. It was time enough anyway.

* * * * *

Nadiel sat on the swing, looking at the ship down the hill in the harbour.

There were other ships in the harbour at their current port of call, and

while she had softly inquired whether any might perchance be heading

northwards, she had only inquired. One, indeed, was destined for a similar

part of the disc where she might take herself, but she had dismissed this

as just curiousity. Besides, who would give that damned Theodore Atkins the

kick he needed. Nay, she'd not take up the diplomat on his offer. It was

hard enough keeping her tracker at bay, the blasted assassin of Jarmaine.

She hardly needed advertising herself to the whole olde world with what

surely would be perceived of as the feminist rantings of Nadiel the

Cherubim. But, as she sat there, swinging in the moonlight, her pride rose

up, and she said to herself. 'No. No, I should not let that blasted

Jarmaine dictate all my affairs and comings and goings. To hell with him. I

shall speak my mind. Damned if I won't.' And thus, having determined in her

heart on her next course of action, she jumped of the swing, came down the

hill to the inn, and found the captain she had inquired of earlier that

day. And offering her services as cook or some other servile position for

her passage, he was agreeable enough that he could find good use for the

maiden, and she returned to her prior ship, gathered her meagre belongings,

and found Theodore in the kitchen, drunk and asleep on the sacks, and

kicked him one last time in the foot. Then one last time more for good

measure, before looking at him, and reaching down, touching his chin,

saying 'See you around Theo'. And then she was gone, off to the other ship,

and soon enough headed northwards to make inquiries of good King Alfred of

Norwich, and what role she could determinedly represent for the voice of

the female in the olde world.

* * * * *

'Well, father. Isn't this a fine and dandy thing. The highways of Aclyos,

on to the throne city of the King,' said Gwen of Locksley to her ancient

grand father of past generations, dear old Noah.

'I've been down this road before,' said Noah. 'When it was young. The pines

look hauntingly familiar. And the spirit is the same, as you would imagine.

That is something of this creation of Elohim. It changes everyday, but it

stays the same everyday.'

'My life speaks the same plot,' said Gwen. 'Working in the guild, the same

four walls of the room I both work and sleep in. Oh, its a wonderful room,

and large enough, and Perlock is fine company. And he always has a new

joke, a new jest, a new charade. But it's the consistency, rather than the

modulation, that, I don't know. That you notice, I suppose. Or maybe what

you rely on. To find the courage to endure this life and persist.'

'They say God is faithful. I say that myself,' said Noah. 'And the rising

of the sun and the setting of the sun keeps us on our steady course.'

The carriage went silent for a while, and Noah started snoozing. Suddenly,

though, a crossbow bolt burst through the back of the carriage, just

missing Gwen's head, and Noah awoke startled.

'We're under attack!' yelled Gwen, reaching for her bow and quiver of

arrows, which she religiously took with her on her travels.

'I'm sure you can handle it. Wake when it's over,' said Noah, putting his

head back to snooze once more.

Gwen looked at him incredulously, and then, with her weapons, climbed out

onto the top of the carriage. Behind them, on horseback, an armed man, with

a crossbow. He was currently reloading, and Gwen yelled at the driver to

stop the carriage. The carriage slowed, and stopped, and Gwen held up her

bow, arrow drawn, pointing it at her assailant. 'Mark my words. You'll be

dead before you can fire that thing!' yelled Gwen.

The man put down his crossbow, and drew up next to the carriage. He began

to speak in a hoarse voice. 'A woman must know her place. The actions of

Gwen of Locksley are unfitting for the olde world. We know well of the

upcoming council, and the plans made to include yourself as a speaker. But

I warn you, make sure you speak submissive words at the council. The woman

must know her place. If you don't, these crossbolts will fire more true

next time.'

'I don't fear you,' replied Gwen. 'My father is Robin of Locksley. He

commands respect throughout all the realm.'

'And it is your father who will weep on your grave. Mark my words,' said

the man, glared at her a moment, and turned his horse, taking off back up

the road just travelled down. Gwen watched him go, arrow still aiming at

him and, frustrated, released it, but it hit a tree in the forest nearby.

She returned to the carriage, ordered the driver to resume travel, and as

the carriage started again, she looked at Noah and nudged him.

'You handled it?' he asked.

'With no help from the likes of you,' she replied, glaring at him hotly.

'Who could not respect the daughter of Robin Hood,' said Noah, and again

put his head back, going off to sleep.

Gwen stared at him and said 'Unbelievable.' Then she sighed, put her bow

and arrow back on the floor, but not too far out of reach, and looked out

the window at the passing trees, her mind thinking over the events that had

just transpired.

* * * * *

'You know, at least a wyvvern has some decorum in the end. They are humbled

by their slightly smaller size compared to the dragons fierce, but in that

humility they act accordingly, and BEHAVE THEMSELVS. You, Dragon. You have

no conscience.'

'Bah,' replied the dragon. 'I was merely doing as a dragon does.'

'Were have I heard that before,' replied Penidwael. 'I mean, it's really

fascinating. A dragon comes to Aclyos to have a lovely holiday, carefully

arranged by a senior cherubim of good name and reputation.'

The dragon raised his eyebrow on that point.

'And what does he do? Promises a light dip in a lake, and goes about

upsetting the fisherman with his playful antics, which are more akin to the

wrath of a kraken, and flits about everywhere, spewing out flames of fire,

and scaring the living hell out of the community. And, if that's not

enough, he raids the Aclyonian Chocolatiers Factory, and spends half an

afternoon devouring their supplies of chocolate and caramel and fudge.

Stuff relied upon for future profiteering. You haven't exactly kept a low

profile, you know. I hear King Aclyos is strongly considering letting out a

troop of knights to teach you a lesson you most obviously deserve. You have

behaved beneath your station, noble beast.'

The dragon lowered his head, embarrased, and snorted out a tiny bolt of

fire. 'I haven't had a decent romp in ages,' he said softly. 'Penidwael, I

am a wild creature, and sometimes we need to let loose and have a bit of a

wild time. It's only our way.'

'You will curb all future exuberance, or I won't plead with the King again

for mercy. I'll lead the charge myself.'

'Yes Penidwael,' said the dragon, softly. 'I'll be more cautious in the

future.'

'You had better,' replied the Cherubim. The dragon had been rebuked, and

Penidwael was satisfied with her lecture. She could hardly afford to have a

reputation for bringing a crazed beast into Aclyos, to disturb all and

sundry. So she'd had her words, but came over, stroked the dragon on its

neck, which it liked, and started singing softly to it, a tune it liked and

she'd sung before, and the dragon, she swore, purred softly.

'Crazy beast,' she said to it. It snorted a small bolt of flame once more.

* * * * *

'The British dominion of Norwich is neither progressive nor conservative.

It's not that simple,' said King Alfred. 'We are truth, but a living truth.

A vibrant truth, of a reed in the river, which bends with the wind. But as

we all know the wind blows were it will from day to day. And sometimes a

northerly has become a constant feature, and it is predictable and a

settled thing. But a southerly takes over, and the reed, naturally, bends

to accommodate. Dear Lady Nadiel. I am happy to sponsor you and give you

place in Norwich's time at the upcoming council for the proposal of a

united olde world dominionship. I know well you'll speak of a woman's voice

in the olde world, and who can not say that at times a woman should not

express herself. If we take too much for granted as menfolk resentment will

set in, and a woman scorned is a woman to be feared.'

'Thank you your majesty,' replied Nadiel. 'I shall speak with words which

do you no dishonour.'

'I caution you, twin of King Daniel, that the council of Jarmaine has much

power and influence. There are those that will be present who would see you

rather hang from the gallows than speak your mind. They are stones, set in

their way, unwilling to flex with the changing seasons. Be sensible and

exercise caution and prudence – remember that – caution and prudence. That

pretty little head should remain attached to those shoulders. Dare the

wrath of Jarmaine too much and I fear it may not always be as such.'

'I shall speak my mind. But I shall heed thine words also, dear King. I am

not silly. I have not gotten this far down the pathway of eternity without

having learned a thing or two, you know.'

'Let us hope that remains the case,' replied the King. 'Now, no more

discussion. We will listen to the lute player and enjoy a spot of wine.'

And the lute player in the chamber began playing, and the king sipped on

his wine, and Nadiel, sitting by the fireplace, enjoyed the sombre mood,

happy to have found her current quest resolved enough to her liking.

* * * * *

The official conference auditorium for the council of olde world dominions

was large. 70,000 seats had been carefully arranged, with a throng of

servants running to and thro, looking to their dignitaries needs and

concerns. Representatives from a vast assembly in inner world discs, going

as far out as the 8 millionth disc, were gathered, chatting amongst

themselves, in high anticipation of what was about to happen. Gemmadel and

Jandy, seated at the rear, a woman's place it was deemed, watched on.

'Tis exciting, is it not, my lady. The buzz in this room is something I've

not encountered my whole life,' said Gemmadel.

'The stuff of royalty and nobility,' replied Jandy. 'But the buzz is not

the reason for this gathering. It is the content of the discussion. It will

be illuminating, I should think, what will be said. A future may be before

us Gemmadel were things change somewhat.'

'Or things will remain the same,' said Gemmadel. 'For I fear I have no

clear feeling of the mood of things.'

'They are gathered, none the less,' replied Jandy. 'So some interest must

be agreed upon in the hearts of the olde world as to Aclyos proposition.'

'It would appear so,' agreed Gemmadel.

A servant appeared by them and asked whether they would like a refreshment

of any sort. Gemmadel queried what was available, and a hot chocolate was

requested, while Jandy declined. They sat and watched the room as the final

seats started filling up and there was movement at the central platform.

Shortly the master of ceremonies took the stage and the audience quietened.

He looked out at everyone, turning to face them all and giving a bow, and

then opened a scroll and cleared his voice.

'Dignitaries and Eminences of the Olde World. Majesties, Powers, Thrones

and Dominions. Exalted guests, and those of more humble station. Greetings

in the name of King Aclyos. We are gathered here today to mark an idea. A

powerful idea. A unique idea. A world changing idea. It is not new. In

fact, such institution is a thing ancient. From the very beginnings of

governance and business – from the very beginning of society – people have

formed partnership. Partnership, community, institution, society. We are

people who gather our strengths, find common purpose, and find unity, and

build things Build things to make a better world, were all can prosper, and

all can find a peace of mind, linked by an understanding that there are

conventions in our life which are agreed upon. Not always universally, but

in differing degrees of strength and commonality. Through these

conventions, and the insitutions which agree and promote them, civilizaton

is built, and thrives and progress is made. And a better, more secure

world, more understood world, is brought forth. It is old, this idea. As

old as the hills. And so far we have come down the pathway of eternity that

it behooves us to travel further still and see what can be, and, more

importantly, what should be. In the new world, this idea, this old idea, is

well established. Such institions as the United Nations, the World Bank,

the World Health Organisation, and various other bodies, have an

appreciation by society which is recognized by nearly all citizens. And in

the New World, with its marvellous technologies, and daring progressive

views, they have a world which has common good at its heart, and common

prosperity as its goal. Of course, we all know, through our own sovereign

choices, that we are not new world people. And because the degree of

progress into modernism is something we by and large eschew, something

which we have concluded is not our way, it is perhaps taken for granted,

perhaps a bit too much, that all such fruits of the renaiisance and beyond

are bad, and unworthy of a world which keeps its ancient traditions secure,

intact and treasured. But this is not necessarily so. I do say that again

to you all gathered here today. That is not necessarily so. Progress can

and does bring ideas which can be applied to an ancient world, for while we

most definitely agree that not all old things are bad, we must certainly

profer the notion that not all new things are either. The proposed council

of Olde World Dominions is about more common legal, regulatory and economic

conventions throughout our olde world. They are the central pinnacles and

precepts of what shall be discussed and, potentially, proposed. There are

other issues to be discussed, and for some gathered here in our audience,

the fairer sex's voice, a woman's voice, is to have its say also.'

Gemmadel went 'Hmm,' to Jandy, who nodded softly in reply.

'There is much that will be said, and much, we must assume, which will be

heartily rejected at the very first utterance, for it is not our way, it is

not our world, it is not our ideals. But they must be said regardless, and

we must bring to light those things which can improve our world and,

perhaps, should. We have a value in the olde world which doesn't change,

and can not change, and will not change. But there are issues which have

always been part of our communities which perhaps should change, and which

perhaps will. I could stand here all morning and give great and grand

dialogue about the whole agenda of discussion to be presented, but I won't.

I will simply conclude by saying these are exciting times, daring times,

bold times and new times. And what shall shortly transpire must be thought

on, cogitated, pondered and considered and, if there is to be fruit from

this grand discussion, let that fruit speak its mind and, as you all would

agree, let us see what will be.' The Master of Ceremonies put down his

scroll, bowed once again to everyone, and the buzz in the audience resumed

once more.

'Fascinating,' said Jandy to Gemmadel.

'Indeed,' replied her lady in waiting.

* * * * *

'It is an option. An option to see wisdom unparallelled,' said Ezeqiel.

'Today's brilliant speech by Gwen of Locksley, truly an option to see

wisdom yet not disclosed in the knowledge banks of eternity.'

'Your mocking words befit your ancient bastardry,' replied Sharakalaniel.

'I think of Daniel the Cherubim, dwelling with the bad boys, and enduring a

scene he ultimately did not fit in. He – he I give credit for what he might

utter, for he is generally enough sincere and true. But my twin Ezeqiel

still forks his tongue with gossip and malcontent, even though it be

strongly veiled with noble pronunciations and etiquettes, a shield I do

say. He is plain to see to a woman who sees the truth, for he is a little

child in the chocolate shop, and want's to plunge his member inside all the

lovely tastey ones.'

'Ooh, that could indeed be misconstrued, twin of mine. But, nay. Tis not a

sham, unfortunately. The remnant of my wise relaxed period of indulgence is

a charm which keeps the tittles of laughter in the court pleasant and

becoming the presence of its noble lord. It is for jest, Sharakalaniel. You

judge me harshly.'

'Bollocks,' she replied. 'Anyway, shut the gob of the noble lord, and let

us listen. She has taken the stand.'

Ezeqiel put his hand on Sharakalaniel's knee and squeezed it and looked up

at the platform. Gwen was ready to speak.

'Dear people,' began Robin's daughter. 'And that is what we all are. Male,

female, black, white, short, tall, fat, thin, heterosexual, sodomite. Ye,

even Sodomite, they are still human in the end, despite their grievious

life choice. And in the image of a Creator we are fashioned, and with a

mind akin to the creators, far diminished, but of similar characteristics,

we have our life, being, meaning and purpose. And whatever we are, whatever

shape or form we take in our human fashioning, there are those

characteristics which always remain true of people. We think. We have power

in our brains inside our skulls which think, and cogitate and create

thought and logic. It is often bemoaned the simplicity of the washerwoman,

but old wives tales are often the thing listened to most of all. I say to

you, gentlemen in particular, a woman can think. And more than that – a

woman DOES think. We do have brains also. We do have thoughts also. And we

feel and have heart, and have ideology of honour and valour and courage and

faith much akin to what a man is capable of many a day. We are people in

the image of God likewise, and we also can be proud bastions of the powers

of authority and the powers of wisdom. We, too, are mad in the image of

God. It is probably true, in the end, after all my boyish prides have

humbled themsleves, that a woman is a tad different to a man, and not just

in terms of the sex organ. But our looks are fairer more often than not,

and if you did shave a man and woman's head, and looked at their face, with

no hint of hair design or makeup to betray anything, usually you will

notice the one which is male and the one which is female. That design in

which we do know is called our DNA does make distinguishment between us,

both in sex organ, and in appearance, and it would seem a softer and fairer

appearance for female so, in that wisdom of truth I want to declare that,

despite much thinking in psyche thinkers of latter new world times, that

the psychology of a man and the psychology of a woman, while quite commonly

similar on many an occasion, probably do indeed have differences. And as

you can tell from our frames they be more tender and our appearance usually

more fair, it would seem we are indeed the gentler being, and the man the

stronger, and this is a truth of nature, which I do humbly acknowledge. In

this sense a woman probably does have her place in society. She it not as

outgoing and robust as a man in most usual respects. In sporting contest

the male, usually, forgive, but will kick the maiden's ass.'

There was a chuckle of laughter through the auditorium on those words.

'And in intellecutal prowes sometimes it honestly seems to me that when the

man puts his mind to the task of academic brilliance he is capable of truly

amazing feats. There are many a genius woman, but the genius of the male of

the species is undoutable. But, in the end, we grow and we learn and, as

time passes, we civilize. And because the Almighty from generation to

generation and aeon to aeon doth sanctify us, it truly seems to me that men

like to occasionally here a woman's wisdom and a woman's word, as they have

grown comfortable with us, an old familiar lifemate, who has charted her

destiny alongside her love since the very beginning of things. A woman can

have a place in the world. She can speak and have a say and rise to become,

to varying degrees, of import. And this, I feel, should not be discouraged,

for a man's natural talent should always be able to secure him the

authority he needs in life. There should not be rules of law on

differentiation in our roles terribly much, but some I will admit as

necessity. Rather an allowance of nature to take its course, for in the

proper freedom of the mind and heart of nature at work in the olde world, a

truer and more representative place for woman, from what merit deems

natural and fair, shall arise – not one which has to combat male pride,

masculinism, chauvanism and other bastions of male pride they can still so

easily use in their game of war with those of the opposite sex. Let us

fight our battles, I ask of you all. Let us stand and rise on the abilities

in us, for how can you really fear what we are naturally capable of. In the

end it is an issue of justice, and if we can gain such and such a place in

the world through our own efforts, indeed, so we should. So we should. A

woman' voice should be heard. Still, now and forever, it should be heard.

Thank you.'

She stood down, and the audience clapped warmly.

'She spoke well,' said Ezeqiel.

'She spoke true,' replied Sharaklaniel.

* * * * *

Daniel the Cherubim took his seat, and watched. Nadiel stood up after the

last speaker finished, and sipped on a glass of water and looked at the

audience. She began.

'Gwen of Locksley spoke well. Hopefully can emulate a similar response. I

want to say this, first of all, a woman is not a man's servant. Don't think

that Jarmaine. A woman is not a man's servant. A woman, a wife, is a

helpmeet. But she has a life of her own, and a family of her own, and an

experience of interaction with the existence of stuff in her world which is

her experience and her interaction and something men have no right to pry

into and sovereigntise themselves upon. Come on fellas. What is your

problem? Can't you handle a tough gal who knows when to tell you to back

off and enough is enough? No, I really think you can't. You like your boys

club, and you don't want it taken from you. Eve has complied for so long,

and she likely always will, but Adam doesn't push too hard in the end. He

leaves her be to run the household and to make her own sovereign choices

and live her own sovereign life. We are free beings as well, and for you

guys to use brute strength or legal excuse to dominate us is gutless. I'll

say it again, it's gutless. If a man wants to rule a woman, he must be her

lord for a reason. Of grace, dignity, proper authority, respect and deep

concern for his wife. Responsible to see to her needs, give her a place in

his home and life, and give her things to do and people to talk to. Women

do not mind being taken care of and submitting to their husband. As Gwen

might relate we do have a natural tendency of submission to men at times.

We need you guys just as much as you need us and we often don't object to a

strong and even forceful husband. We do love you guys. But give us our

space, as I will say you generally do, and the shrew sometimes likes to be

the shrew, and have her passion, and have her force of fierce words, and

her heated antagonism. We're not all lady janes. Many of us are daughter

Jezebel and mother Lilith. We can and do have dark sides very often, and we

can and do fight back. And we can unite, you know. The suffragettes

demonstrate we can fight back and get much of our way if we have to. It's a

battle of the sexes, and never forget we have bodies which can pack a punch

with some training and effort also. In this olde world, in the end, by

virtue of the choices of the men to desire this lifestyle it is reasonable

and fair for them to expect to have appropriate womenfolk who share their

values and are willing to do a woman's work and be a natural woman and a

natural wife. It's not unreasonable and, in the end, I'm not complaining

either. You guys do a reasonably good job at keeping law and order, and I

don't think a woman has to try and take control in the olde world, because

that is how the men like it, and that's not necessarily wrong at all.

People are allowed, in their sovereign choices, to have the lifestyle that

suits them. I speak, then, asking you all this. Just don't push it on us

all, the fairer sex, too the nth degree where we are nothing but chattle.

Please keep faith with our humanity and our mind which can think, and our

ability to make decisions. Give us a place in this world were a woman can

speak her mind if she must and if she needs. I'm happy to learn my place

here. It doesn't bother me, really, in the end. I like the olde world and,

despite myself, I like its values. They are traditional and I will be the

first to admit they endure and do work. Simply keep in mind you all need

your mothers – they gave birth to you, and your woman is your vessel for

affection, so love her so and value her for what she can offer you, both in

body and mind. And I think I've said enough.'

Nadiel sat down, and there was silence around the auditorium. But, after a

moment, a few claps, and then they started clapping warmly enough, and

began chatting on what she had said. It seemed – tolerable – her

presentation. Daniel felt she had spoken as Nadiel would, but was not too

outspoken. Jarmaine would likely observe, but leave her be. She'd said

things within reason.

* * * * *

An assembly of personages, Sharakalaniel sipped on her glass of wine, and

stood there, in the palatial grounds of Castle Aclyos, enjoying the

aftermath of the council. On the castle grounds a peculiar dragon, which

Penidwael assured them was quite harmless, was frolicking with a Wyvvern,

dancing around, looking splendid as all dragons do. Gwen of Locksley was

chatting with father Noah, and Daniel the Cherubim with his twin Nadiel

were also in that group, dressed in their typical finery. Queen Gemmadel

and Jandy were chatting with Penidwael in their group, while her twin

Ezeqiel was gawking at the dragon, yelling at it to spit out fire. Very

amusing Ezeqiel. Suddenly there was a commotion in Noah's group.

'It's a crossbow bolt,' said Daniel, picking it up.

'It just missed my head,' said Gwen.

'There,' said Noah. 'In the trees just there. And he is armed. Quickly

people, these trolleys.'

The groups hid behind the trolleys which had been used in the conference,

but the assassin came out of his hiding place, climbed up to the porch and

pushed the trolley aside, glaring at Gwen, his crossbow pointed at her.

'Would be cold blooded murder. You'd hang,' said Noah.

The assassin glared at Gwen, pointing his weapon at her a while, and then

raised it up.

'She is a nuisance and better off dead,' said the assassin. 'Her message is

madness of modernism, and it will not be tolerated.'

'That might be true,' said Daniel. 'But I think you have other things to

worry about rather than Gwen of Locksley.'

The assassin gave Daniel a puzzled look, but suddenlynoticed heavy

breathing on his neck. He turned, and looked, and a gigantic ghastly face

of a dragon was staring at him. It breathed a bolt of fire at the assassin,

which singed his hair, and the assassin yelped, and ran off.

'Serves the bastard right,' said Gwen, getting to her feet, and the party

chuckled a little at the dragon who was bowing a dragon sort of bow.

'I think I could use you also, dear dragon, to keep the cronies of Jarmaine

off of my back,' said Nadiel.

'It would be an honour, lady Nadiel,' replied the dragon.

'Troublesome times,' said Noah. 'Passions have been ignited, and I am not

sure the olde world is happy with the proceedings which have gone on at

this conference. Feathers have been ruffled, so keep your wits about you

Gwen.'

'Indeed,' said Gwen, looking in the direction the assassin had fled to.

'Troublesome times indeed.'

* * * * *

Nadiel had triumphed – sort of. She had gloried for a while, and then

drifted off again on her journies. She came into a tavern, and ordered a

meal. And then she had noticed the familiar face of the assassin of

Jarmaine at the window, staring at her. She almost wanted to go up to him

and tell him to fuck off. But she couldn't say that. She'd have a dagger at

her throat before she could blink. So she had eaten her meal, and ducked

out the back entrance, and continued on her way. But he was trailing from a

distance – he was always trailing from a distance. She wandered, here and

there, and came to a seaport in northern Aclyos, and she sailed to the

neighbouring modern world country, and took flight back to the 886th disc

of the realm. He was there, at the back of the space ship, in the economy

class cabins. Her nemesis. She arrived home, and wandered off, back again

into the olde world, and he was always just behind her, watching her,

waiting for an opportunity to make his claim. And then one evening she

wandered into an old town, and there was the sea, and she came down to the

port and counted her coins, and the captain looked familiar. She was cook

again, and Theodore Atkins was drunk, on a pile of sacks, and she kicked

his feet and called him an idiot, and he bellowed the Asian Bitch is back,

and Nadiel sighed, and got on with the evening meal. And life went on.

* * * * *

Gwen pulled down the curtain of the window in the carriage. 'It's a long

way back to the spaceport,' said Gwen. 'A long series of carriage rides,

and the endless steam train journey again, to get to the border.'

'We'll get there,' replied Noah. 'One month is not too long a wait.'

'I guess not,' repied Gwen. 'And you are most excellent company dear

grandfather.'

'Good to know,' said Noah, putting his hand on Gwen's knee and giving it a

squeeze. 'Now wake me if we get another assailant.'

Gwen laughed, and nodded, and Noah laid back his head, and closed his eyes,

beginning to snooze. Gwen sat there in the darkened carriage, thinking. Her

speech was still on her mind, and the chats she'd had for the days

following. It had been a moderate impact, and nobody said she'd spoken

anything particulalry untoward. But very few had congratulated with any

great enthusiasm either. A lukewarm reaction she mostly considered, but her

words had been observed according to one regent. Time would tell, she felt,

if it had any more impact than that. Time would tell she thought, as she

likewise put her head back, closed her eyes, and relaxed after a tense and

exciting few months.

* * * * *

'Dragon. You must consider me a fool. Why are we still in Aclyos at this

blasted lake?' asked Penidwael the Cherubim of her dragonkind buddy.

'I've fallen in love,' said the dragon. 'My dear Wyvvern has entranced me.

I sense seed coming, and I shall stay a while. You shall of course remain a

year or two, to ensure my fair home has no complications, and then we shall

return home. Just a while, for it could be a bloodline of pride. I'll see

her comforted in the duration.'

'Tis not a problem. This village is of gentlefolk who suit my tastest in

things amuch. I shall give you your requested time. But no robbing

chocolate factories. And no scaring innocent fisherman. You are quite

daunting, you know.'

'I shall be cautious, as I told you prior,' said the Dragon. 'Nay, tis a

time for responsibility, for I shall soon be a parent again, and what a

proud day it shall be. The Realms most glorioius beast a father again. A

great day for us all.'

'You should exercise some humility,' said Penidwael smiling.

'I am humble on all occasions when I am not proud, and that is all

occasions I think which matter,' said the dragon.

'Crooked tongue. I see it has returned,' said Penidwael.

'It has been on holiday also,' said the Dragon. 'But no matter. I will see

you soon enough, but time for a dip, and I shall feast on fish today.'

Penidwael waved to the dragon as he took off, and watched him flit over the

lake, before sighing, and returning to the inn, and her patience of a year

or so, for the dragon to conclude his most pride-filled desires.

* * * * *

Daniel was home. And Nadiel? He'd received a letter. She was on the same

ship she'd been on in recent times, and had relayed some of her crude

encounters with a certain cook by the name of Theodore Atkins, a perpetual

drunkard. He laughed a little at her witty comments, and she had closed

that she would journey, now, quite a while, and see what life could

continue to offer her in her adventures. Good luck to her, he thought. But

now, life returning to his royal duties, after quite a bit of an escapade

in Aclyos, were a council of olde world dominions had discussed various

things, as well as whether there would be an official organisation for the

unifying of them all. And, after all the great huff and puff there had been

no great consensus and no great conclusion. All that had really transpired

by most was that the matter would be kept in mind. But what could you

expect? Things worked often incredibly slowly in the olde world. It was the

general pace of things. They were looked at, considered, and revisited many

a time before often the first declarations on their soundness were uttered.

After all, they had all eternity to make up their mind in many a sense, so

why rush things? He did not think this philosophy that unwise in the end

anyway, and review was a thing all sensible rulers should keep in mind. It

was how things improved and, for want of a better word, progress was made.

Still, it could be interesting times ahead, to see if Aclyos grand vision

captured any imaginations. Would the council come to be? Would there be

greater unity and agreement? And, for dear Nadiel's sake, would women have

something of a more included role? It would be interesting to see what

would be, so he would watch, stay informed, and let be what would be. But,

for now, a return to his royal duties, and quiet drinks in the evening,

reading and rereading Nadiel's letter, and working out an appropriate

letter to write in reply. And, all things being equal, on with life, and

the general activity of life in the realm of eternity for the angels and

children of God.

The End

*Wormdrogan*

Wormdrogan was the 500th male cherubim of the Realm of Eternity.  He

collected playing cards.  God wouldn’t play him at poker.  God liked

winning at poker.  Wormdrogan kicked ass at Poker.  God avoided Wormdrogan.

‘Yeh, he’s still giving me the cut and run,’ said Wormdrogan to Wormdog.  

‘He won’t give a guy a break.  I’ve been chasing his butt for a follow up

game aeons now, and there is always some excuse.  Oh, I’ve got to see a man

about a dog, he says.  Oh, my automobile needs new tyres he says.  Oh, I’m

about to end the world due to the wrath of professor Zelzazaon he says.  

Yada yada yada.  Always some excuse.’

‘Yeh, tell me about it,’ replied Wormdog.  ‘Still, whatcha gonna do, huh?’

‘Let’s play cards,’ replied Wormdrogan.

Marckonyel, seeing them getting ready to play, came over and sat down, and

Garanel soon followed suit.  They played poker, and the stakes were high.  

Genuine casino chips which could be redeemed at a Casino were being used.  

And big ones.  Million credit chips as the base amount, the big ones being

100 Mega.  It was a poker game they got to ever million years, a big night,

and it was time for some fool to go home lucky.  A lot at stake.

‘Of course,’ said Wormdog.  ‘He’s not gutless, as you know.  If you sledge

him a bit, call him a bit of a wuss, sort of make this known to the Spirit

what you think of the Theophany’s attitude, he’ll show up damn quick.  He’s

got a rep for not backing down on legitimate challenges from people who’ve

earned it.  You’ve been around forever bro, pretty high on the Cherubim

list, and he’ll take on the challenge.  Believe me.’

‘Is that right?’ asked Wormdrogan.

‘Pretty much,’ replied Wormdog.  ‘He confides a lot of shit with me, and

I’ve been around him long enough to know.  If he respects you enough he’ll

match the challenge.  It’s his way.’

‘Shit huh,’ replied Wormdrogan, looking at his cards.

The night ended with Marckonyel doing the best, and they all drank beer and

watched ‘Girls Gone Wild’ till the wee hours.  The following week

Wormdrogan gave the issue quite a bit of thought, then he spoke out one

evening to God.

‘You know, you probably know what’s been on my mind.  But, officially, tell

him that cutting and running is a bit wussy.  I know he’s sensible enough

not to lose a fortune.  Conservative with his cash and takes precautions.  

But he’s a man, ain’t he.’

There was silence.

A few weeks later the Theophany wandered in through Wormdrogan’s back door.

‘Ok, fella.  Next time with the lads, a million years from now, I won’t be

making excuses.  You can count me in thereafter.  I’ll accept your

challenge, son.  You’ve earned enough of a right to issue it.’

And so Wormdrogan had a chuckle that evening, shared the news with his

twin, and quite strongly looked forward to a chance to take on the old man

at the game he knew and loved best.

The End

*Keltarium*

‘Gandra.  I’ll give you a Gandra Mega for that,’ said Keltarium, 42nd of

the male cherubim of Eternity.

’42 million credits?’ queried the bookseller.  A Gandra was the ancient

angelic number for 42.

‘Why, I would be giving away a 71st printing of Treasure Island at that

price.  Nay, up your offer.  I shan’t settle for anything less than a

Danielra Mega.’  A Danielra was the ancient angelic number for 45.

‘Too expensive.  I’ve seen the price charts,’ replied Keltarium.  ‘The

standard sellers price is a Gandra Mega.  It hasn’t shifted in over a

million years now.  True, soon enough a price rise is expected, but I doubt

I wish to negotiate against reason.  I’ll have to wait a while before I

earn a return on the item.’

‘Doth thou intend an investment only?  Surely it’s a book to, forgive the

pun, treasure?’ replied the bookseller.

Keltarium examined the work.  ‘I have a signed copy from Mr Stevenson.  An

innocent paperback of much latter vintage, but it is dear to me.  This will

be a treasure to enjoy a while, but it is for resale ultimately and

increase in my fortunes.  I’m not sure I desire such a long wait upon its

profit to my industry.’

The bookseller considered that point.  ‘Nay, I’m afraid I must insist on

the price.  I bought it for more than a Gandra not long ago.  And, If you

expect……..’ he trailed off.  ‘Just a second,’ he said, and referred to his

notebook on his table.  ‘Actually, forgive me.  It was 39 Mega it cost me.  

Yes, ok.  A Gandra will suffice.’

‘Good,’ smiled Keltarium.  ‘I’ll have my bank contact you within a year or

so.  The money will be transferred via reliable security measures.  They

deal mostly in gold coinage, but often silver as well.   I Hope your

financial institution can handle that.’

‘Should not be a problem.  I am with Wolfstone’s.  They are well

established.’

‘Here is my address,’ said Keltarium, handing him a slip of paper with his

address on it.  ‘The book may be forwarded by courier to that address upon

payment.  Please enclose a receipt at that time as well.’

‘Very well.  I shall put it aside with this as a promisory note,’ said the

bookseller.  The two shook hands, and the deal was done.

Keltarium left the store, and climbed up into his carriage just outside the

store front.  He pulled on the reigns, and the horses took off. The trip

back to his tavern was not long, and he would return his rented carriage

after a few more weeks once he had enjoyed Rochingfirth.  Stuck in

north-west Aclyos, it was a dainty city of barely a million souls, but he

must need travel to this store, for the book was well known in bookseller

catalogues as residing here, and it seemed good time for the investment to

be made.  Happy with his purchase, he urged the horses on, and soon

approached the tavern.  The bartender smiled at him as he came in, and he

went upstairs, came into his room, and sat down on the bed.  He looked at

his feet for a while, noticing the muck from the dirty road, but ignored it

after a moment, and picked up the bible by his bedside, and settled in for

a reading of latter Exodus.  The afternoon passed, and he felt the Spirit

briefly look in on him.  Soon he would be back home, far down south, and

enjoying his mansion and regular life in the olde world of Aclyos.  His

twin had been insisting for a while he visit, and he felt time was soon

approaching to consider that, but he had his routines and his comings and

goings, and was content to leave her be just that little bit longer, and

enjoy his life.  And, soon enough, a new book to add to the top shelf of

his library, which he would look at and adulate and, thinking it over,

decide just when it was time to sell and reap a decent and profitable

financial reward for his efforts.

The End

*The Association of American Supreme States Helping Out Lovers Everywhere

Superlatively*

‘Saruviel.  You are hereby invited to join the Association of American

Supreme States Helping Out Lovers Everywhere Superlatively,’ said Michael

the Seraphim.

‘Oh, I am honoured,’ replied Saruviel.

‘The Association appreciates your kind.  You would be perfect for them.’

‘I look forward to the next meeting,’ smiled Saruviel.

The next day.

‘Saruviel.’

‘Yes, Krystabel.’

‘You have joined the American Supreme States Helping Out Lovers Everywhere

Superlatively.’

‘Indeed I have,’replied Saruviel.

‘Have you checked their acronym name,’ said Krystabel.

‘A S S H O L E S,’ said Saruviel, a letter at a time.  ‘Yep.  Why?  What’s

wrong with that?’

‘Say that as a word,’ said Krystabel.

‘Oh.  Ok,’ said Saruviel.  ‘Well, looking at it, I guess its Ass…………..’ he

trailed off.  ‘He’s an asshole,’ said Saruviel.  ‘That Michael is a fucking

asshole.’

‘And he’s fucked you right up yours,’ said Krystabel.

The look on Saruviel’s face summed it all up.

The End

*Zionistya 6*

They were at a secret chamber in the heart of Zionistya.

'The dark days are behind us, chosen ones,' said Michael, dressed in a robe

of black. 'And I have put the fear of sarcasm into Saruviel the proud.

Right up his behind. Our days are coming when we shall return to the Realm.

For we have conquered Zionistya, and Eternya is not a battleground, for it

will be too easy. We shall progress in our might to the Realm of Eternity

and outwit the truly dimwitted Valandriel, and come right up Daniel's arse.

Our victory is assured.'

'Do they have punch at this gathering?' asked Ambriel, dressed in black, to

a fellow 'Dark One' by his side.

'Do not risk the ire of the dark lord in asking for punch,' replied

Gabriel. 'His wrath is well known.'

'You should be quiet, Ambriel,' suggested Sariel, likewise dressed in black

of the 'Dark One's'

'Who speaks?' asked Michael. 'What Dark One dares challenge the might of

the Dark Lord?'

'Is there any punch?' asked Ambriel out loud. There was a hush in the room

as they watched Ambriel surely to face the wrath of the Dark Lord Michael.

'Actually, down the back, next to the kegs of beer I think,' replied

Michael.

'Oh, thanks,' said Ambriel, wandering off to get some punch.

'As I was saying,' continued Michael the Dark Lord. 'The dark days are

behind us chosen ones.'

Later on, Ambriel still being the only sober member of the dark ones at the

gathering, he was watching Michael and Sariel wrestling. The other dark

ones were inebriated, and urging each of the combatants on. 'I have to

drive this frikking monkey home,' sighed Ambriel regarding the pissed

Michael. 'Still, watcha gonna do huh?'

And so the gathering of the dark ones continued apace, and Ambriel, relying

on the punch, just sighed as the various dark ones staggered around all

evening, before collapsing one by one, leaving a frustrated cleaning lady

looking at him saying 'What am I going to do with all these idiots?'

The End

*Sunshine and Rainbows 2*

'There's the sunshine,' said Daniel to Meludiel.

'The realm doesn't have a sun,' yawned Meludiel, rising. 'And why did we

have to sleep in sleeping bags right at the edge of Danielphon.'

'These are our keeps camping grounds,' replied Daniel.

'It's a metre to the fence,' said Meludiel. 'Sure, we can squeeze in and

sleep, but it's not much of a camping ground.'

'People can fit. Don't complain,' said Daniel. 'Now, while it is true, the

realm of eternity has no sun, its still approximately sunshine. It's light,

and the same sort of stuff. And, remember, we get rainbows as well,

regardless of stars being present or not.'

'He manages that somehow I suppose,' replied Meludiel, still yawning.

'Gosh, I didn't even feel the cold, despite it being winter.' Meludiel had

a thick shirt on, with a skivvy underneath, and pants on. 'I'm starting to

feel the cold now, though,' she said. 'Cold morning mist.'

'A great time to be alive. When we really feel it and we have the energy to

face the day. Winter can be really great like that. So cold that you sort

of really do feel alive. Anyway, grab your bag, and we'll go into the

ground level and I'll get breakfast ready.'

Meludiel smiled and followed her bestie inside. Daniel soon got the bacon

and eggs going in Danielphon's ground floor kitchen, and they were eating

breakfast at the table just shortly after that.

'How's Jerkob?' asked Daniel.

'Jacob is just fine,' replied Meludiel. 'We are happily ensconced.'

'Lucky bastard,' said Daniel. 'Still, I can't complain really. Jessica is

fiercely loyal, and I like her heaps. Starting to love her actually. She

was just sort of a wife who I didn't necessarily think would always be

around when we first hooked up. But she's got Messiah Ministries in her

blood, and won't ever let me go. Suits me, as I need a woman who's devoted.'

'Well I'm devoted to you,' said Meludiel, and leaned forward and kissed him

on the cheek. 'Just not in the marital sense, so don't get any funny ideas.'

'I won't. Probably starting to finally grow up a bit. It's taken a while.'

'Forever,' replied Meludiel.

'As I said, it's taken a while, but I'm slowly starting to see the light.

Ah, maturity. When you can tell the younger ones 'I walked a frikking mile

in barefeet to school. You don't know how good you've got it.'

Meludiel smiled.

'And you can wear cardigans, and fart in armchairs, and people don't

actualy mind.'

Meludiel smiled again.

'And if a bloke pinches a girl's bottom, they just laugh it off as a

gesture from silly old fool,' said Daniel.

'Don't push it,' replied Meludiel.

'Aw, you take all the fun out of life Rebecca. Eat your damn eggs,' he said.

And the morning passed.

* * * * *

'Time to make the HMS Unsinkable II, Melly Smelly Beccy Weccy,' said

Daniel. 'Come on girl. Up off that couch. I've a little blow up kids pool

in our meagre front yard, and I expect it to be truly unsinkable this time.

We're going upstairs to the craft room.'

'Lead on,' said Meludiel, rising to her feet. They came to the elevator,

rose up a number of floors, and walked down a corridor to Danielphon's

official craft room. Sharakondra was in there, on her mobile, but there was

sheets of plastic being cut out in various shapes in front of her.

'She must have a project or something,' said Daniel.

'The paper?' queried Meludiel.

'Heaps of it,' said Daniel, pointing to the open cupboards. 'Lots of

colours in the A4 and Foolscap range as well. I make it a point of getting

foolscap out of older tradition. How about a lovely caramel colour?'

'If you insist,' replied Meludiel, who hunted around and found a sheet of

A4 caramel paper. She took it to the desks and Daniel handed her a cup full

of crayons.

'Ok,' said Daniel. 'It is important to pay attention to detail. You should

have learned from the last dismal, truly dismal, effort, that if you do not

cover the whole paper with crayon, little holes in your masterful work can

let the water seep in and drown your precious creation. I will admit you

have history to justify you, as the first Titanic indeed sank. But the

second is going strong, so you do not have any excuses.'

'I'll keep that in mind,' said Meludiel.

Daniel sat down and watched Meludiel start crayoning. After a while he got

up and put on the stereo, a Teak, which daniel had ordered from the

company, commissioning the model, requesting that they 'Get off their arses

and don't make such tacky systems.' This one was the standard design, but

it was a definitely improved product, and Teak had improved a lot in recent

times, taking their work a lot more seriously because of Daniel's

admonishing of the company. The radio came on, and it was a mixed

mainstream/Noahide/Christian channel, which Rebeeca enjoyed listening to

with Daniel, and she looked at her bestie, and looked at her work. She was

quite in a good mood.

'Here,' said Sharakondra, who had left the room a few moments ago, but

culture and way of thinking in the olde world.

'How was your trip, Dragon?' asked Penidwael.

'It's good to be out of that monstrosity,' replied the dragon. 'I fear my

hay is full of more dung than all the chamber pots you could find in all

Aclyos.'

'I did notice,' replied Penidwael. 'Did you enjoy your chocolate and movie

entertainment.'

'Gollum was a delight,' replied the dragon.

'Why does it not surprise me you'd say as such,' said Penidwael.

'Do I flap my wings hence, or have you a sufficient chariot for the next

part of our journey?' asked the dragon.

'That mountain range,' said Penidwael, pointing to a mountain range to the

north of the airport. 'Follow it till it ends in a large lake. Go to the

northern side of the lake, and you'll find the King's Highway. Aclyos'

throne city is at the end of that highway.'

'I shall enjoy my trip then,' replied the dragon. 'But take my time. And

that lake sounds ideal for a day or two of frolicking. I wonder, these

mountains? Are they known for my kind?'

'50 leagues northward of here the border of Aclyos begins. This was the

closest I could get us, as there are not air or spaceports in the Kingdom.

But I have heard you may indeed find olde world dragons here and there in

Aclyos. Good luck.'

The dragon smiled its dragon smile at Penidwael, stretched its wings, and

took to the air. Penidwael watched it fly north, and smiled, then continued

on to get her luggage and resume the rest of her journey.

* * * * *

Daniel examined the scroll. '500 gold pieces?' he queried the messenger.

'Why so many?'

'It would guarantee your presence. The money is redeemable at the end of

the conference. King Aclyos does not want committed attendees who do not

show due to other unforseen circumstances. The money is also far less than

he wanted, but was convinced of a far more reasonable sum by various

parties.'

'Queen Jandy no doubt,' commented Daniel, looking again at the invitation.

'3 years notice? Plans are made very slowly in the olde world. Much time is

needed for consideration. Why so sudden?'

'It is an inquisition, nothing more. Official just an inquisition. Into the

proposal of a council of Olde World Dominions in practical reality. A

discussion on the idea by various notaries of the olde world. He has

invited over 3000 to the conference, and it is to be set in a grande

chamber indeed, one of the largest halls of parley I have ever seen. You

might almost consider it a conference room of the very modern world, if

such a thing was not unbecoming to our way of life.'

'Indeed,' replied Daniel. 'I'll not pay. But I'll attend. He has my word on

that. Take that message to Aclyos.'

'As you wish, noble King of Chaldeans.' The messenger bowed, and left, and

Daniel returned to his desk. It was a bit of a hide asking for 500 gold

pieces to attend a mere inquiry, but it would seem Aclyos was quite serious

in the new plans he had made. They were known well enough, his desire for

this olde world united dominion. It had been posited he desired good trade

and a degree of universalization of some legal precepts. A more common

understanding on things. Realm law often wanted to interfere, the degrees

of eternity's political system, but the olde world paid all of that scant

regard. Old policies from the heyday of the Realm of Eternity prevailed,

but the olde world had long ago gotten over playing ball with the

machinations of the political powers of the realm. They'd do it the olde

way, and not bother to sign treaties and alliances and trade agreements and

all the modern things which the realm was full of. They were the olde

world, they did not need all its modern luxuries and all its modern

conveniences. But in the thinking and logic of the olde world, as

Aclyophenes reasoned, there was a decorum and approach for a certain degree

of common unity, and it was this subject he wished broached. Daniel would

attend, more for personal interest than anything, and see what would come

of the matter. But, for now, his regular Kingly duties, and the next move

in his chess game against a noble in the court, a good friend, who had made

a good move with a bishop, which Daniel had been puzzling on for days.

* * * * *

'Robin Hood – is a legend,' said Noah.

'And so is a giant boat full of beasts two by two,' replied Gwen of

Locksley.

'Touche, fair maiden,' replied the Ark Builder. 'But in this life eternal

legends become real. And what was myth transforms into historical fact.'

'So, tell me. Was it two pairs of everything, or seven pairs of

everything?' queried Gwen.

'The scripture elucidates the answer,' said Noah. 'Two of unclean, seven

pairs of clean.'

'And that is historical fact, then, is it?' asked Gwen.

'The scripture is the record and the record is the scripture. You'll get no

more detail from me than what is recorded. Less you have a deep abiding

interest in the covenant faith, that is.'

'Mmm,' replied Gwen. 'I'm probably too much of a Roman Catholic for such a

reality,' said Gwen. 'At least in tradition. Jesus is the love of my life,

and I'll not swap him for a rainbow warrior.'

'Nor should you, fair maiden,' said Noah. He looked at the map in front of

him. 'The 41st disc of the realm of Eternity. Done in the olde style. The

cartographers of this epic must be proud of themselves. I notice the

skyscrapers representing the major modern cities. Cute touch.'

Gwen looked down at the map. 'The differentiation of modern and olde, and,

if you notice, here on the right, the lovely space ship of future world, is

something they've done quite deliberately.'

'Why?' asked Noah.

'This map is popular,' said Gwen. 'And they olde world wants to remind its

citizenship in no uncertain terms what the olde world is, and what it is

not.'

'I see,' said Noah.

Gwen took out a cross from her pocket, and handed it to Noah. He examined

it. 'An emblem of your faith?'

'It's not my faith,' she replied. 'It's my tradition. I have faith in God,

not in Jesus of Nazareth. He's fallible humanity, and I am not naieve. But

our tradition is strong, and I shan't betray it.'

'Do you have classical artwork on the arks?' asked Noah.

Gwen looked at him. 'I have a piece with my family, at their estate. In a

box. A collection of various pieces of artwork, cut out from a more modern

magazine.'

'I see,' said Noah. 'Would you partake of an artist friend of mine and his

ongoing work of ark picture painting? He has a central work he modulates

regularly, with variation of colours. He's an endless supply to work

through, well, nearly. And he is currently doing purple with burgundy

styles. You could put it up at home?'

'A kind gesture,' replied Gwen. 'Now, father. What do you wish to ask me?'

'Aclyos sent me a letter. Not long ago. He queried how the children of

heaven handle the subject of femininity and the apparent rights of the

fairer sex since the beginning of things. And, not so much to share that

knowledge with me, but yourself, who he intends to represent as a

spokesperson in his upcoming council.'

'Yes, I know,' said Gwen. 'Well then. What would you say?'

'That life creates its own rules, regardless of the times and what people

think should be,' said Noah. 'And that nobody follows tradition in the end,

but that they do as they damn well please. And when they get very old they

are set in their ways, and gravitate to where they belong instead of

reshaping the world in their image. The olde world has shaped itself by a

populace who prefer the olde world's way of things. You nearly need know

from the children of heaven that we love our women, and they speak their

mind freely when pressed to do as such.'

'I see,' said Gwen.

'So speak your own thoughts, and don't hold back, for Jarmaine won't

criticize your right to express yourself at a council formed for that

particular point. He may indeed disagree, but your expression will be

allowed.'

'Then I will have to think long and carefully upon my words,' said Gwen.

Noah nodded and looked at the map. 'I'll have that painter sent to you when

you return to Londinnum.'

'As you wish, father,' replied Gwen of Locksley.

* * * * *

Jarmaine was a Muslim. His breed was Quran alone as the principle of

guidance. He also accepted the Rainbow Torah as his offical religion. Islam

was the creation of Mohammed, and not Allah, let his name be praised. But

after a billion prayers to Allah in the name of Islam that ceased to be

much of an issue anyway. The community was established, and Jarmaine,

having been born into that community, was a part of it, and that was just

the way it was. And then he died and came to the New Terra new arrivals

department, and they shuffled him off to New Terra 47. And then he applied

for a visa to the Realm of eternity, and settled in the 886th disc of the

realm, and having found work, his visa was renewd many times, as his

employers always commented on his reliability to immigration. And he

applied for a permanent visa and, due to his outstanding record, it was

approved. He was dark skinned, from Africa, and his friends were muslims of

similar nature in various locales in the 886th disc, and Rophiel the

Seraphim, Mohammed himself, was as popular as any of the iconoclasts which

dominated the realm of eternity. And in the name of Rophiel he gathered

friend muslims, and founded the council of Jarmaine. And it grew. In time