Brilliant Man/Vir Clarissimus (Latin)

Chapter 23 Fiat Money

"Follow my words, Zed, okay?" he sighed. "So to ensure a rich yield, you must first begin by drilling through the Junction Zone." As Ozwald spoke, his anxiety gradually depleted, replaced with certainty and confidence – very soon, him and his friends would reunite! "Note, I'm unsure where specifically you should drill, however, anywhere throughout Junction Zone – especially the more cavernous areas – contain most of Pluto's oil. Besides all this, the rest is up for you to discover."

"Wait..." Zed said. "You make little sense! This same oil I've sought for over three decades... has it been farmed, kept, and distributed by the citizens there all this time.. without my knowing?" he asked.

Ozwald smirked, though fancied to pose him with the questions. "Yes, they are very clever people. But wait. How do you plan on going about extracting the oil?" He was surprised to find Zed actually humored by the prompt.

Swiftly, he answered, "Simple. I shall kill everyone there, steal Pluto's precious oil, then be on my way."

Ozwald acquired a bleeding lip after refraining from speaking for too long. "Well, I'm sure you're capable of tha--"

"--You know I am," Zed interjected, smirking.

"Please. No genocide, no deaths."

"Shall we negotiate then?" he laughed.

Ozwald yawned, stretching out like a hammock over the soft, prairie floor. "God forbid that, Zed. Personally, if I was in your situation, I wouldn't even bother with those Plutonians; just drop them all here, take their loot, then leave!"

Zed nodded slowly, seeming to acknowledge this. "Fair point," he smiled, an ugly cross between avarice and boredom. Snorting, he remarked, "Although.. isn't Pluto's population already sort of 'dead.' There are literal skeletons living there."

"Don't digress, Otis," Ozwald said, then faced Charles and Shannon. The pair had abandoned their birds, seeming more curious about their conversation. While looking in her direction, Shannon's expression read, 'Never mind us, keep speaking! It's really interesting.' He returned to Zed, meeting his lifeless, angular face.

"Alright..." Ozwald carried on, "Let's start from the beginning. First, you'll teleport us to Pluto's capital, Junction Zone. Once we arrive, you know the drill! Hehe.. Now, am I understood?

"Good. So after purging Pluto of its reserve, don't get rid of its population; instead, transfer those individuals here so that everything remains non-violent and goes by quickly." Looking around, he saw the working Junction-proletariat flooding this beautiful country, freed from their enslavement while the emperor remained bound to his destroyed kingdom in their unfastened chains.

This utopia could be the freedom needed for them.

Zed smiled. "Ozwald. Your request asks me to transfer us from the dreamstate into the real world – don't worry, we'll still make it to Pluto – however, if you end up falling and killing yourself or us both, we're really dead. Got it?"

"Yes," Ozwald smiled, savoring the feeling. Finally, they would leave this forsaken place and bury it in dust.

Zed's expression dropped, frown grew, and finger snapped. Instantly, the sunlight, sky, and hazy stars vanished, replaced with utter void.

When they next woke, it was on the husky, dirty ground – the slow, mechanical cry of gears, cogs, and engines at work could be heard from above. Ozwald's eyes popped open, ears grew to the industrial sound, and the realization hit him more than the snap had. They were below Pluto, but still weren't quite in Junction Zone grounds yet.

Pluto's big crater – renovated into a smoky, descending mine – appeared in his line of sight. Its expansive, 220-foot circumference had called for a ledge, leading to the mainstream use of bricks through its daily supply of rock material. Ozwald was made aware of this while circling the mine – he'd slipped off a stone, nearly falling into its abyss but had latched onto this ledge. Dust, steam, and chalky air blasted up from the place as workers drilled into its rock and clathrate hydrate layer.

Ozwald smiled when passing the same barrels he, Hirashita, and Alicia had hid behind during their last trip to this Junction Zone. His brief reminiscence was followed by a surge of determination as he rushed to find the familiar mud stairs; they remained tucked away at the end of the foggy place.

"Onward!" he cried, him and Zed circling the mine. They stopped at two tunnels, one of them leading to the minecart station. Ozwald pointed ahead, hearing Alicia scream 'left!' in his mind.

Their five-minute sprint finished at the bottom lip of the tunnel, where they were now positioned. Shaded under a boulder pooled an assemblage of minecarts. Only few remained gray - most were askew and tinted yellow - and right beside this sight was an open cave. It had waves of metal spray and tracks covering all directions - left, right, center, up, down, and loop-the-loops. The bulk of these tracks scraped just over the latticed, dome-shaped ceiling before dipping back down into a floor blasting with steam, their silvery streaks colonizing everywhere.

Ozwald and Zed kept their distance, as near these minecarts was also a race of humanoid workers sporting unusually big, beady-orange eyes. Pressured by time, the pair took up their pride, quickly making after one of the minecarts in the mountain of greasy, metal wheels. After fitting into one, Ozwald glanced around feverishly, then held in his breath in an effort not to squeal.

"Tell me, Ozwald," Zed began, "How do you intend to distract these moles so we may continue, uninterrupted, on our route to this 'Junction Zone' you keep blabbering about?" he asked, squashed between his and Ozwald's body.

"Don't stress it, Zed! Just remain crouched as the cart is moving, that way we're as subtle as possible; for example, like a passing bird." Spontaneously, Ozwald's stomach lurched, assuming a different fate with the introduction of loop-the-loops again. This skin-deep anxiety remained with him until their ride ended.

The pair quietly adjusted their crouched positions to prepare for discomfort. Once finished, using his free hand, Ozwald strengthfully pushed the cart onto the track, beginning their moderate, minecart journey. This victory temporarily subdued the discomfort in their bound knees and buttocks.

~

Their ride was an edgy blend of dips and climbs. Ozwald would lose focus near the last turn, loop-the-loop, shriek, then awoke when their cart tip-toed to a sparky finish.

After exiting the cart, the pair was left to admire the imperial iron-gate warding the Junction Zone. Ozwald's eyes traced its features while his mouth described them – "Zed! It's clay! Look at the clay!" he cried.

Another surprise, rather than rock guards, two vague, white shapes approached them. More steps revealed their networks of bones, ligaments, and other parts; they possessed a fixed motion, squared-off cheekbones, and had dull eyes.

"What is it, Ozwald?" Zed asked, flashing a look in his direction, worried that trouble had sparked already.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," he murmured quietly, "but something about those two is so freaking familiar."

It wasn't until one of these figures exclaimed "OZWALD!!" that he could distinguish between them both.

They were David and Luther.