CHAPTER 1: GAMBLER’S FALLACY

The walls of the spacious laboratory were a drab shade of grey, heightening the sense of claustrophobia accentuated by the narrow corridors. The research facility valued practicality way over aesthetical values.

The redhead lady stepped lithely towards the door at the end of the long corridor, pushing a softly creaking trolley covered in white cloth, listening to the roar of the air vents that rose every time she passed under one of them. The fluorescent white light reflected on her wire-rimmed glasses.

Listen to the air vents, Amelia, that’s how you maintain alertness. Foreign sounds disturb the background noise, betraying the presence of an unwanted person. Well, hopefully, none.

She felt her lab coat brushing against her knees with every step. She could even hear it whoosh. The creaking of the trolley paused. She keyed in the security codes on the control panel by the door.

A beep, and the grey door unlocked with a clang. Amelia slowly pushed the door open before pulling the trolley inside.

Unlike the bleak corridor, each inner facet of the cuboid room was painted a different color. The nursery had playful illustrations on its floor and walls. Pillows and plush toys littered the floor. The room’s sole occupant, a toddler, was sound asleep in his cot.

All those electrodes attached to his head…

A wire connected them to the cot, sending input of the toddler’s brain waves towards a computer that’ll alert the researchers if anything went wrong.

Gambler’s fallacy.

She reached into her lab coat pocket, clutching the two small objects she kept in there.

When in doubt, and when logic fails to tip the scale, a coin helps. Or dice.

Bringing them out, she opened her hand. It was a pair of dice, a pair of sixes.

This defies logic. Why was it every time I tried to see if this is the right decision, more than nine out of ten of my rolls get double sixes? It’s almost like a supernatural agency is at work here. As a scientist, I must be crazy to even believe in such a thing as Gambler’s Fallacy. To put my life on stake, depending on it is sheer, unforgivable madness.

She didn’t hesitate long.

Yes, this is madness.

From underneath the trolley, she produced a small bottle and wetted a handkerchief with its content.

Diluted. Crude and crazy, but it’s the right thing to do…

…I think?

She hesitated again. Her expression softened at the sight of the toddler’s sleeping face. The hand holding the handkerchief hung limp.

“Amelia Eckehart.”

The sudden intervention made Amelia cry out in shock. “Wh-who are you?”

A young teenage girl who was not supposed to be there was sitting in a metal chair opposite her. A chair that was not supposed to be there.

“You know me,” said the girl in black dress.

“Either a supernatural agency or a manifestation of mental defect,” Amelia smiled, sighing in a becalmed way.

“Charming way to put it,” the girl replied with a half-mocking grin, raising a cup of steaming tea.

…that was not supposed to be there.

“Yes I’m not supposed to be here. At least, it’s unadvisable for a being of my prestige.” The girl raised a finger, her black eyes twinkling. “I’ll cut this short. I know exactly what you are going to do. You are not wrong. And you will succeed.

“But,” the girl paused, pushing back a stray lock of black hair, “remember that it is I who allowed it to happen, and one day I’ll have you return the favor. One day this world will be split into two, and I’ll need his help when that happens. A lot will need saving when the time comes.”

Amelia was too confused to even begin questioning. She started with the plainest question, “Who are you?”

The girl avoided the question. She stared at her cup of tea, spinning it as if it was weightless. “I hereby declare with certainty that you will succeed in your stunt, no matter how many obstacles stand in your way, with my authority.” The cup exploded in white sparks, and the girl disappeared without a trace.

Amelia stood there for a blank few seconds, her mouth half-open.

Determination returned to her expression.

*

The walls of the dimly lit sewer were made of roughly hewn rock. Thick fluid flowed downstream in a brownish black river of sewage. The horrendous smell was better left undescribed.

The robed figure passed silently underneath the violet light of the torches, a cowl hiding his profile. Thankfully, there were elevated platforms on each side. It looked like a city road, with the platforms as sidewalks, and the central ravine as the road. Some of the intersections had crosswalks, in the form of little bridges over the sloshing water, but most of them were without.

The man’s dragonskin boots left little noise as he walked, even with all the armor he wore under the robe.

The luck of the Heavens…

No, it’s simply fate, Saul old boy.

He was sure of it. Last night, he prayed to high Heaven, to give him a sign that what he was going to attempt was right. The odds were all stacked against him. He woke up the next morning a stronger person, with a smile of determination. He couldn’t explain it, but all his doubts were washed away, and he felt a warm sense of purpose filling him with confidence. There was no thinkable reason for the euphoria. It must be something that he dreamt, even if he couldn’t remember it.

Saul took it as a sign.

He stopped, his hand catching a rusty iron ladder, and looked up. He was directly underneath Grudgenhold Castle.

 “Old man.”

With a lightning fast movement, Saul unsheathed his sword. It glinted an uncanny silver under the violet light.

“You have a foolish, foolish plan,” said the figure appearing out of nowhere.

He claims to know my plan. “Then I’ll have to kill you,” Saul replied coolly.

The stranger’s next move was so fast it looked as if it lacked transition. He caught Saul’s blade with his bare hand, going so far even as to let the blade sink through his palm. Contrary to Saul’s expectations, there was no blood.

The stranger’s outfit was strange: a cotton shirt underneath a black coat of outlandish design, tucked into a pair of creaseless cotton pants, and ending in a pair of shiny leather shoes. A thin article of clothing resembling a very thin scarf hung from his neck. The young man might be a foreigner.

What’s a foreigner doing in a foreign country’s sewer again? All dressed like a loon? Right underneath the royal castle? A few days after a coup d’état, of all times?

The stranger coughed tentatively, letting go of the sword. “Yes, I’m a foreigner, if you will. The Heavens – if I may use this word – has unanimously allowed you to succeed. Upon my word as… the messenger.

“Anyway, as a messenger of the Heavens, I’m here to declare that the person you are saving will live until one time when the world shall be split into two. When the time of reckoning comes, her help will be needed to save this world.”

Saul didn’t understand, yet he knew this man was no ordinary person. He could sense people’s magical wavelength, and yet…

This person has none.

It was not cloaked, and at this distance he couldn’t have mistaken it, and yet, there he was, a person with no magical wavelength whatsoever. Even ghosts have them. Even infants. Even infant ghosts.

Saul touched his thin grey moustache. “Why should I believe you, sir?”

But the stranger vanished as suddenly as he appeared, without a trace. His disappearance was without even a sound or a spark.

Saul stood silently in the semi-darkness, questions buzzing in his head. The slushing stream continued to flow.

Only then did he lower his sword.

Well, got a princess to save. Pardon my unworthiness, Your Majesty.

*

Amelia pushed the trolley leisurely even as a voice shouted, “Freeze!”

“Put away those guns, gentlemen,” the redhead spoke steadily, her voice soft and ringing like a young girl’s. “This trolley contains flammable material.”

“Hand over the baby!”

“Test Subject no. 4 is sleeping soundly. Just, go on, go and check the room, you’ll find him in there.”

One of the two security guards aiming their guns at her produced a walkie-talkie. “West Wing Security Officer No. 6, calling Control Room, over.”

“This is Control Room.”

“We’ve been tipped off that Test Subject no. 4 is gone. Check the security cameras.”

“Test Subject no. 4 is in there.”

“Excuse me, I need to go,” Amelia half-pleaded.

The guard knew she was lying; she didn’t even bother masking the tone of her voice. “Shut up, don’t move.”

Amelia just stood there behind the trolley, her arms hanging.

“Control Room, did you see her enter the Subject’s room? With a trolley?”

“Dr. Eckehart? Yes she was.”

So she didn’t hack or block the cameras. “We’re checking the trolley,” he said to Amelia. His partner was still training his gun at her.

Amelia was faster than that. As a woman, she lacked the guard’s muscle strength, but as Amelia Eckehart, she had the advantage of speed. One thumb to the cluster of nerves at the base of the guard’s throat and he was out cold, his gun setting off, the bullet hitting the opposite wall.

And before the other guard could have an idea of what was going on, she already had a gun and was aiming it towards him. She fired a shot before he could even finish shouting “Drop that gun, bitch!”

The bullet hit the wall a few yards behind him, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that the sound was enough to shock him while the barrel of his gun was aimed in a harmless direction. She moved swiftly out of harm’s way, her mind having already calculated the possibility level of the bullet hitting anywhere she didn’t want it to.

She wrapped her hand around the guard’s gun, letting go of her own, and with her other hand, she landed another nerve attack, all in less than half a second.

Seriously, the security of this place…

Five seconds ago, she was unarmed. Now she had two guns.

Hello everyone. I’m Test Subject No. 2.

*

Saul Rollins had the princess in his arms. Her room was not as heavily guarded as he thought it would.

Maybe it’s the coup d’état.

Yes, Sir Knight. What now?

Well, Your Majesty, I sincerely hope you don’t mind a trip through the sewers…

What?

Your Majesty, it’s the only way, I’m afraid.

Saul inched backwards, towards the sewer entrance. It was hidden behind a cupboard in the washroom, the kind of secret exit that appears upon a plot dead end. The furniture had been moved aside, leaving a gaping entrance in the marble wall.

It was a circular hole, large enough for him to sit comfortably against its frame and light a cigarette, if only the circumstances would allow him to do that.

But… but Sir Knight! We’ll get dirty!

Your Majesty, I swear I won’t let a speck of filth touch you.

It smells horrendous in there! And the princess cried.

Damn! Bang goes my imagined dialogue. Was on a roll back there. “Shoosh, shoosh! Shush!” Saul tried to comfort the baby princess in his arms.

Shouts started to echo from the way he came, meaning that he didn’t have much time left. A loud boom told him that the door to the Royal Nursery was forced open. The princess didn’t stop crying.

He leapt through the hole and descended the ladder rungs. It was awkward work, with only one hand free. Amidst the echoing wails of the baby, he decided to leap.

And he landed perfectly, bending his legs into a crouch. Just that – “OOF!” – his scabbard hit the stone platform and the sword handle knocked the wind out of his stomach, hard. Even with all the armor…

The baby’s wail was getting unbearable.

I’m sorry Your Majesty, it might be ungentlemanly, but…

He whispered a spell of somnolence, and the baby fell silent.

Another boom sounded as the washroom’s door was blasted open. Damn.

A few meters above, an armored bottom peeked out above him as the pursuing castle guards discovered the secret entrance and one of them was going to go down the iron ladder. For a split second, Saul allowed himself a childish grin as he unsheathed his sword and aimed the thin blade upwards, calling out a magical attack.

“SHOOTING STAR!”

A silvery blast of magic exploded out of the blade, shooting up in a sparkling stream, much to the dismay of whoever the armored rear belonged to.

Hearing the unmanly scream of the man, Saul actually snickered.

But then, echoing clangs resounded all around the sewage system as various entrances to the sewers were opened.

The more the merrier? Oh joy.

*

Swiftly pushing the cloth-covered trolley, Amelia wondered if everything was being too easy. It was a holiday, most of the staff was gone, and all she had to deal with were guards with paychecks somewhere around minimum wage. Seriously.

Then the buzzer went off.

“SECURITY ALERT! BREACH OF SECURITY IN THE WEST WING!” screamed the PA system. “SUSPECT: AMELIA ECKEHART! APPREHEND THE SUSPECT!”

Shouts and heavy footsteps headed in her direction.

Well, time to grab him and run.

She stowed a gun into one of her labcoat pockets. Reaching underneath the trolley, she took the sleeping baby into her arms, and held a gun with another. She kicked the trolley to the end of the corridor, where it split into a T-junction.

She took a left turn and ran. Once she reached a fair distance, she shot the trolley. She was not lying; it burst into flames.

A black rectangle: the sight of the glass doors of the facility greeted her – some twenty meters left, and she’d be out of the building. But her ears told her of the arrival of even more of the security staff. Four of them emerged from a side corridor, blocking her way, all armed.

They raised their guns.

She threw the baby at them.

The guards might be testosterone-loaded grunts, but that didn’t stop them from gasping and hesitating at the unprecedented action. Even before the baby left her arm, she fired with her free hand, and when he did, she took out the other gun and fired.

Her shots missed – on purpose – but it was enough to make the guards panic. She kicked one between the legs and landed an elbow on his shoulder, landing a kick on an adjacent guard’s throat, right as she rolled over the first guard and landed right in front of the glass doors… and caught the baby. She felt she had caught him gently enough, but you’d never know. Concussion was never a good thing.

All in three seconds.

Unfortunately, the doors were automatic, and took another three seconds to open. Two of the guards finally realized they were facing a serious threat, and fired.

The possibility didn’t escape her; she never turned her back on them in the first place, and had already focused her sight on the barrel of their weapons. She had already calculated their aim, and avoided the two shots with ease. One of the bullets grazed her labcoat, but nothing more.

The door opened, and she leapt backwards into the night, and ran towards her parked car. The key was in the ignition and the engine was on. She had placed a brick on the gas pedal and now, from the open window, she pulled the gear stick.

The car shot across the tarmac and rammed into the ten-foot-tall fence surrounding the facility. Amelia ran after the car right as it burst through the fence and crashed into the surrounding wall of trees.

Amelia disappeared into the dark woods.

*

Saul ran along the platform even as a group of armored guards chased him. Saul knew about the guards, how they ran, the run that said, “Damn, this is not worth my meager salary.”

He took a turn every once in a while in the maze-like sewers, and they lost him in just a matter of a few minutes.

He reached a place where the platform sloped downwards and the river of filth rushed down with renewed vigor. Here, the torches were red. A man blocked his way ahead, garbed in silvery armor and a cerulean cape, holding out a double-handed claymore.

“Holy! It’s the knight Saul Rollins himself!” said the figure, grinning. “Taking up a career in kidnapping princesses?”

Saul didn’t feel like answering, he knew that the man was a decent threat, and drew out his sword.

He was not disappointed. The claymore’s strikes were heavy, and Saul had to use only one arm.

*

The baby was still sleeping. Amelia was sure that she had lost her pursuers. Instead of going in a straight direction, she ran in a huge semicircle, circumventing the facility and going in the opposite direction. Her breath came out ragged as she forced her legs to run. Test subject or not, the escape was taking a great toll on her, physically and mentally.

She was sure she was close to her destination. She looked at her watch glowing in the dark: 9.17 pm. Six minutes left.

It felt like forever, but finally, she got out of the woods, and reached an asphalt road that snaked into the forest. 9.22 pm.

And right on time, a minute later, a car appeared. Amelia breathed a sigh of relief as the car stopped. Greeting her friend and having the baby in her arms, they disappeared into the night.

*

Saul’s opponent was winning the fight. The old man was driven backwards, blow after blow. Having a curtain of black hair and a leering countenance, his opponent was probably half his age, and Saul knew him.

“They were going to assassinate her, Perkins!”

“Again with the court conspiracies!” Perkins struck down, hard. Saul avoided it with a leap backwards. The claymore hit the stone floor, leaving spiderweb cracks. On stone.

Saul blocked the blade with his own and kicked the man in the face. Perkins staggered backwards muttering curses. In his rage, Perkins called out his magical attack, “TREMOR B-” but Saul was faster than that. His blade ran across his opponent’s throat midsentence.

Perkins collapsed on his knees before falling forward in a pool of blood.

How you spend every second in battle is a matter of life and death. Calling out a magical attack needs two.

“Forgive me, O fellow Knight,” Saul said with a bow before sprinting away. Distant shouts sounded out behind him, but by the time they had arrived at Perkins’ facedown body, Saul was gone.

And that was the last anyone had heard of Sir Rollins.

*

Author's Note: Thanks for everyone who cared enough to read! I love feedback, so feel free to comment, or share, or... anything!

This is just the first chapter. I'll post the next chapters later, and tweak the dates so that the first chapter is always on the first page of this blog.

Many things will be explained later into the story.

This story is just beginning, and will go on further and further, into a crazy adventure. Stay tuned! :D