Chapter 48, The Swallowbirds

Chapter 48, The Swallowbirds

At 1400 hours, after a hearty lunch served by the new cook of the house, all the letters were finished. Done. Complete.

Ready to be delivered.

Apparently, as Sam explained it, casually sending these letters through the mail might cause some sort of incident for the authorities. Hence, Sam convinced George to drive Kreig to wherever it was they needed going. Of course, as required by the law, Sam technically did have a drivers licence. The issue was that George, being a sensible and wise man, would never in a million years let his sister get anywhere close enough to his car in order to drive it.

She could scoot around in her scooter as much as she liked, but it would never change Georges mind. It was his car, and if she wanted any part in it, she was better prepared to be relegated to the shotgun seat.

Even then, the car in question only had a pair of front-seats, lacking any passenger seats in the back. After all, for ten years, he had never needed any more than two seats.

So it was that he sat behind the wheel of his car, glancing somewhat anxiously at his brother where he sat clutching a bundle of four letters. Each of them written in the most gorgeous handwriting George had ever seen. It was melodic, brass and elegant, the kind you wouldnt expect to see from such a barbaric-looking man. It might have been a bit unkind of him to call his own brother barbaric, especially after seeing him labour over these kind letters for so long, but Truly, a barbaric man, warm heart aside.

One who, if he clutched too hard, could make a pencil explode. Who could pluck a metal rose and burn it with a mere thought.

Of course George felt unsure. He was living in a house with a massive wall of a man and a Fighter sister. This was the kind of things you saw on late-night soap operas where the twist was that the baby was a Fighter. Absolutely stupid, and to a normal person like him, borderline terrifying.

These were people who could easily crush bones should they wish to. Sam didnt even have a high level, barely enough to enter the more medium-levelled portals that might appear at times, but even she could lift things several times her own bodyweight.

No portal. Really? A coffin and then what happened?

... Kreig seemed more reluctant to speak than usual, but after less than a minute in complete silence between them, the only sound being the whirring of the car motor, Kreig spoke softly. Somehow, the tale he spoke felt muted. Apparently, Kreig had been summoned by a good church in dire need of help, and he had, as a man should, helped it. Killing monsters and doing what had to be done to bring prosperity to a country in a bad place.

It was a heroic tale, but it didnt feel real in the least. No mention of any physical pain or death or personal hardship. Almost like it was just a soft-hearted parody of the truth, told to keep George happy.

It felt strange, but just as Kreig explained how the kingdom he resided in had become so believing that they appointed the pope of his religion as the leader of a theocracy, just as George felt he had worked up the courage to ask Kreig what really happened, the GPS gave a beep, signifying that the travel destination was on their right. And, yeah. There it was. A large, almost run-down apartment complex modelled after the countless grey blocks of soviet Russia. The height of brutalist architecture.

This was the kind of place that the Swallowbird family lived in. Nothing fancy, nothing that cost much of anything.

George stepped out of the car, followed closely by Kreig. The apartment complex was at least fifteen storeys high, but the Swallowbirds lived on the first floor. Although Kreig was far from eager, he still trailed after George, a single letter clutched dearly in his hands. He almost gave off the same feeling as an inexperienced teenager, on his way to hand a love letter to someone he was sure wouldnt respond in kind. They entered the complex.

They wouldnt talk to them, just in and out, leaving a letter in their wake. Unseen, un-,

May I help you? There she was. The girl George had seen on the LinkedIn profile. Brown hair tied up behind her head, sunken but still clear green eyes. The young miss of the house, barely 15.

Annie Swallowbird, young sister of Charlie Swallowbird.