“You know what to do.”
“You want me to—”
“—My life isn’t worth living as it is. All is lost. There is nothing to fight for and especially not against. There is no meaning.”
“Captain!” Labaguette says, “if you go, I go, but you first.”
“You’d be better off not seeing how it’s done, Labaguette. Let’s have you done first.”
Labaguette complies, drinking a little Rum before laying still, offering his neck.
The King raises the sword into the air, as if ready to strike.
“He means it, Captain,” Birdeye says, “his spirit will live on but for you…, there’s no hope left.”
The Captain looks at the King, wondering.
“—Wouldn’t,” the King says, throwing the sword in the emptiness that surrounds them, “had to be sure.”
“The two of you, I thought—”
“—Heard that Captain?” Labaguette mumbles, “my spirit never dies, but for you, I—”
“—Morons!” the Captain exclaims, “here Chloroph, use my sword and do me, forget these cowards,” he adds, pointing at Labaguette and the King. “You and I have never seen eye to eye, grab this one and only opportunity, will you?”
“Hold it!” Collectorus says, “there’s always a way. If we got in, we must be able to get out.”
Chloroph rolls his eyes into the air.
“We’re mere particles, dirt particles, unwilling particles,” Collectorus continues, “we can be reconstituted but someone must be willing to pull us out of that bag. Science and knowledge can help. One of us knows more than the others on this very subject.”
“Birdseye knows everything,” Labaguette says, “ask him!”
To be continued…