Master arrives home again late in the evening as I finish boiling the water for his tea and sits in his study. He has brought a guest home tonight and i make sure to have two cups ready on the tray before I bring it out. Setting it on a small table to the side of the lounging men I begin to scoop the sugar and pour the cream. Masters guest tonight is Sir Mobeus Finley. A highly esteemed scholar, who, at the tender age of eighteen was knighted by the emperor himself after discovering some of the most important archaeological specimens of all time. Now at twenty five he had made a name for himself by opening and maintaining the most prestigious museum in the empire. Being of similar age and having much the same interest in the past, the two men became the best of friends after meeting in said museum. Sir Finley contrasting masters fair complexion (pale blond hair, and sea green eyes), with olive skin, black hair, and striking violet gaze. The two of them seeming to depict yin and yang sitting across from each other in masters famed antique chairs.

        "What do you think brother?" Sir Finley ventures, an almost childlike expression of excitement spread across his ruggedly handsome features. Master, a man of finer features sat on the edge of his chair bent over his knees propping his chin on his right hand. The picture of angelic beauty as his brow furrows. These men were the lucky recipients of genetic manipulation within the womb like many others of the upper class. The best people of society, of course, needed to be the best through and through.

        Master was very obviously concerned about the topic of the conversation. I am intrigued, but continue my work. "Well Moby, I can't say what I think about this. On the one hand if the rumor is true this could be the key to find out what things were like during the Crossing of Aurora. If not we will come back empty-handed and shamed."

        Sir Finley scoots forward in his seat and leans in toward master. "If there really is a cart from the time period preserved in the ancient bog along the known rout of The Crossing we could be heroes of the century!" The proclamation causes my heart to skip a beat and I almost spill a drop of tea as I pour. I right myself before anything happens, though, and set the tea cups in strategic positions for each man before gathering my tray and exiting the room. I am the essence of tranquility as I enter the kitchen and set the tray on the counter before doubling over and sliding to the immaculate floor. Tears run down my face unhindered as I ride through my painful memories.