22
    “Is this true?” The man whispered, not wanting to get his hopes up.
    The two intimidating men nodded in their polished looking suits. “Reports have been made there,” one of them spoke.
    “The reports?”
    The other man nodded. “Yes sir, the time has come, the book has been found.”
    “You’d better be correct,” the man whispered threateningly. “Or I won’t take it to kindly to dead ends.”
    “Were sure.”    
    The man in the chair sighed as he looked up at a very old painting. “Years and years have passed when my ancestors spent their whole life searching for that book. My great granddaddy dedicated his whole life. ‘We’ll find it’, that’s what he always said, ‘were the new generation, nothing’s gonna stop us’.”
    The man’s eyes glittered with greed. “I never thought the day would come…where I, Yalinso Ferfarther, would avenge my great grandaddy and find his precious book.”
    One of the men shifted his foot. “Is it true? What this book can do?”
    The man grinned, showing his yellow teeth. “Of course it’s true boy! You’d better apologize for doubting your family’s legacy! If you had asked that question when I were still a mere child, well, they would’ve roasted ya!”
    The man bowed his head. “Sorry…it’s just what you speak of, it sounds to wonderful to exist.”
    “Don’t speak that way when you are in our house!” The man snapped. “Your whole darn ancestors spent their whole life looking for it, I suggest you be silent while you still have the privilege to live.”
    A few seconds passed and the man laid back in his chair. “Well? Where is it?”
    One of them cleared their throat. “Chapening’s Den, sir.”
    The man took a sharp breath. “Where the traitor was killed?”
    The other nodded, “one reported that a storm occurred on the very ocean where she died.”
    The man looked shaken, and very very scary. His smile was full of horrible promises, his eyes light up by a savage hope, doomed to ruin his pathetic existence.
    “Then it is time, we will go as soon as we can, and search for the devil’s who’ve taken our book. Hurry boys, pack yours and the rest’s stuff, we will leave on the next flight.”
    “Sir?”
    “What?”
    The man nervously took of his hat. “What if the caretakers of the book are not what we expected?”
    The man in the chair shrugged. “They took our book, we’ll take it back. I don’t care if it’s a dumb dog, the caretakers will be silenced, it’s the only way for us to get that book and keep it. History changes, but ways do not.”
    The man in the chair looked at the two men standing up. “We will do this the old fashion way. Which takes time, and a lot of blood. Be ready.”
    Knowing they were dismissed they quickly left, the man in the chair took out his pocket watch, and studied it for a long while.
    “It has been found…” he paused. “And the traitor is dead.”
    Meanwhile…
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