The Four Dimensions of Corey Emerson

The Blacksmith and the Break In

        I showed myself out of the enormous castle I found myself in. On the floor I was on, there were doors right next to each other and I peaked in, to see that some sort of magic had allowed the rooms to be ten-times the size of how I expected them to look. I felt my stomach curling over on itself as I attempted to understand it all, so I just gave up and found myself on a stone balcony. Peering over, next to a grand staircase, I saw what was the largest entrance hall ever to be conjured up in any book or movie I had ever seen. I stumbled into the middle of the grand staircase and took in the chilly stone on my feet and all around. By the large double doors at the opposite end of the entrance hall, extravagant bronze frames held seemingly three-dimensional pictures. I jogged up to the photographs and they smelled like a mixture between blood and fruit. One of the painting had a small plaque with the engraving of 'Athos Pine' and the painting next to it held a figure with a face almost identical to the other; the plaque read 'Anthony Pine'.

        "AYE!" A voice shouted from behind me, echoing throughout the entrance hall. I jumped and shrieked, holding my stomach and turning around to see an unfamiliar face. An older but shorter man stood in front of me. His orange beard with singed off split-ends was tucked into a large belt that was under an apron type shirt. The man's pompous stomach sang as its owner was quietly humming his own tune to himself. In his right hand was a smoking rod and in the other was a silver ingot. "That there is our bloody bastard of a king." The man took his rod and waved it around the painting of Athos Pine.  

        I gasped and took a large step back, to where the rod would cause me no harm.

        The man then flung the rod one painting over, to Anthony Pine. "Un' that's 'is fool of a son, Anthony." With one final wave of the death trap, the stubby man waved the rod in my direction. I saw the smoke from it whip around every which way.  "And yer that Sigurd lady, ain't you." He wasn't really asking and I knew this. I decided to let up to get my mind off my father.

        "Hmm, news travels fast?" I faked a smile. I still had no idea what 'Sigurd' was. 

        The short man nodded. "Them Elves spread news like butter. Now, if you 'scuse me, I have a forge tah get back tah." The man then made his way to the double doors, twirling his rod. When he opened them to the light, what I saw in the outside world almost brought me to my knees.

        It was a vast array of cloth shed-type kiosks and several were similar in containment, whilst other varied. Some were filled with weavers and others were filled with cookers. Some had women peeling fruits and vegetables and others had men skinning animals with multiple legs and eyes. None looked too appetizing but small children with large ears were running up to every other tent, taste-testing food every which way. One of the last groups of tents along the dirt path I was walking on were the forges the short man seemed to be talking about. Behind those were more tents, and more. Then beyond those were small ponds with docks covered in bakini-wearers and fishers. I turned around to scan the tents on my right side. Beyond the workers were arenas where people could be heard screaming, cursing, and laughing. I had never seen such a close community.

        Ahead of me at the end of the dirt path were large trees so close together, breath could not pass through. Two more large doors that were several stories high were straight ahead. The aforementioned trees set a perimeter around the large... Kingdom? Camp? Whichever.

        "OI!" The short man called to me. I had wandered off, towards the doors. "Get back here, Sigurd!"

        I silently obeyed. "Alice," I croaked. 

        "Hmm?" The man raised one of his bushy singed eyebrows.

        "My name is Alice," I said a little louder, and stopped fiddling with the buttons on my wool sweater.