The two false apostles

Barogey had never been fond of traveling; to him, the only prize worth claiming was the great kingdom of Magder, his birthplace and rightful domain. On numerous occasions, he had joked with his younger brother Louis that he would conquer the world—if only it were populated enough to make his dominion worthwhile. Much of Magder consisted of uninhabited industrial plants, while the majority of Lizrogan and Vistor remained vast, untamed wildernesses, beyond even the grasp of the world's mightiest military powers.

Barogey sat on a bench outside the Broom and Beer tavern, a large book resting in his hands. In the distance, the faint sound of yelling reached his ears. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of the commotion. Down the street, a crowd had begun to gather.

"Now, now, my brother. You mustn't be so quick to accuse. Every sane man must present legitimate proof of wrongdoing for his challenge to a duel to hold any weight," a large mountain of a man declared. Pale and broad-shouldered, he stood tall amidst the gathering crowd. He wore a black button-down shirt, and a red handkerchief was tied tightly around his thick neck. In one hand, he held a brown porkpie hat; in the other, a leather-bound book.

"I am not letting that bastard get away! To hell with you all if he deceives you. That son of a bitch killed my daughter!" roared a gnomish man, his voice gurgling with rage.

"What are you going on about? I've been at home since Monday. You can't be serious. I swear, you ought to quit that moonshine of yours," A Hobbit retorted, his tone defensive.

"Moonshine, you say? You think I'm drunk? Bastard! Well, then, let all of you bear witness to the body of my poor girl!" the first gnome bellowed, his voice thick with grief and fury.

He then pushed his way through the crowd toward the town gates. Barogey watched as the crowd followed the Gnome and the Hobbit. Then he noticed the towering man break away from the throng and approach him.

"Well, fancy that. I didn't expect to come across a human in these parts. The name's Kyhaber. I'm a father to wanderers and lost folk," the man said, pressing his hat to his chest and bowing.

Barogey shut his book and rubbed his hands together firmly before placing his palms over its surface, gripping its edges tightly with his fingers. He shifted slightly on the bench in a subtle rocking motion before settling. Adjusting his glasses, he looked Kyhaber in the eyes.

"I take it you're Fitzkineman? There aren't many mountain giants with that distinctive timbre of voice," Barogey said, his voice scratchy and coarse, as if forced through a clogged pipe.

"Well now, that's incredible! I don't think anyone's ever recognized me that quickly before," Kyhaber remarked, astonished.

"It feels like just yesterday I was in Green Boulder, working on the radial engine's fuel injection system. I was at my desk, sketching adjustments to the gas valve's automatic control system connected to the engine. I was following an old audio guide by Dr. Rhudferd Earnest when I heard it—your voice. Dr. Earnest played a recording of you discussing how to plan logic in a mechanical system." Barogey reminisces as he rambles on.

"Well now you're quite well versed in the sciences, say Doctor what's your name?" Kyhaber asks.

"My name Is Barogey Ushilgi," Barogey answers.