05:35 PM
27th November
The raven's eye twitched. It drew a sharp breath, glaring at its white surroundings. The snow never seemed to bother the raven, who always watched with silence. It opened its wings and scrambled into the cold air at the foreign sound. Steven's boots squeaked with every step and did little to keep him warm. He grumbled, and his back popped when he bent down picking up the fallen journal. He had dropped it on his way back home. He couldn't feel his arms by the time he reached the foothills, about 0.25 Kms from his home. The journal looked disappointed in the snow.
He looked at the book.
"I can't believe this blasted thing talks"
Herobrine must have done some Magic—trick and made that book the most annoying it could ever be. That sounded quite absurd, but he couldn't go and knock at Herobrine's grave — or ashes or whatever —and ask 'Mr Herobrine, why the hell did you make this piece of crap'
Maybe Steven's just going a bit crazy.
He had read the first few pages of the journal and it was all boring stuff. It made sense, but Herobrine seemed to find happiness in bragging about his Elite English education and damned cursive handwriting. The first part of the book talked about his research into some relation between magic and science. Then the second part was where Steve found his happiness.
Electrum—Introduction and chemical properties.
Steven skipped the chemical properties. There were three types of Electrum that Herobrine knew about. The rest two seemed pissed at humanity since neither Herobrine nor Steven had ever gotten any 'good quantity' of it.
And then Herobrine became a bit saner. Because the next 27 pages were filled with water paints and crayons and graphite lines. There were so many colours. And so many landscapes and colours. But there wasn't a single living being, let alone a human in them. Spanish grey —which is not grey— mellow apricot, dark purple, teal and a lot more he had annotated. Ever since then he started seeing those colours everywhere. His walls were periwinkle, not purple. The journal's cover was of catawba colour. His favourite colour was Bistre, not dark brown.
The pages flared open, flattened by the sheer force of Herobrine's quills' nib. The mauve that coloured the lavender farms on page 17 had leaked into the sky. Steven shut the book and grumbled his way back home.
At the second floor's window, a blob of brown hair ducked down. Steven muttered a profanity and dashed for the main door. It wasn't locked. The door banged against the door bumper. He hid the book in the entryway cupboard and took cautious steps towards the stairs. He passed the coffee table at the centre of the rectangular living room when hurried footsteps thundered above him.
Ditch this
He ran up the stairs. The fourth stair hollered under the pressure. Steven stood in the dark hallway, panting as he looked at the other person at the left end. The white eyes widened in horror. A terse moment passed. He knew why Herobrine was here. The journal.
Herobrine sprinted away to the nearest room. Before he could enter Steve caught his wrist, hauling him behind and twisted his arm. Herobine gave a short grunt, and fell to his knees.
Three authoritative knocks echoed in the house.
"Goodness," Herobrine muttered. Herobrine's childish face looked up to Steven, and left him dumbfounded. It was Herobrine, The Herobrine. The one and only. On his knees. How did he look so...young? Steven felt old after looking at him.
"I won't move." Herobrine slowly held his hands up, his face upside down. He just looked for an answer.
Gods, that voice…
Those words wound around his wrists and tugged them away from Herobrine. He felt like a child, who was stopped from touching an article of virtu.
He gave up. He walked backwards. Herobrne stared at him. It made him feel inferior, how he could just speak— be there and change—
He grasped the railing of the stairs. "Stop messing with me!"
"Pardon?"
"I said shut up!"
The person knocked again.
"I'm coming, you bastard!" Steven yelled at the door. He looked at Herobrine for the last time. It was obvious that he would escape and run away without the journal. There was no one he could trust.
The second blow came when he opened the door and two enforcers were standing with crossbows. One of them held a paper and would have smashed that in Steve's face if Notch allowed him.
"Search warrant" The other man said.
"What?"
He was shoved aside and the two enforcers began by checking the flies on the coffee table.
"What the hell is this for?"
One the men with an open file in his hands glared at him through the visor. "Unauthorised possession of Electrum."
Steve gulped.
He dropped the file on the table and picked up a bundle of papers. The papers were loose and flew down. Both the men scuttled around the room, picking them up and shooting sentences to each other.
Steven soundlessly opened the drawer of the entryway table and hid the book behind his back.
The mess was cleared and the two moved towards the kitchen. A beep screeched from one enforcer's pocket. Everyone froze. He produced a small black box. He stood in the kitchen and the box was silent. He walked towards the stairs and it beeped once. The man looked up. There was a pin—drop silence. He climbed up the first stair, and it beeped thrice.
"Do you have any visitors, My Lord?" The enforcer looked at the box and back at the staircase.
"I bought a hamster yesterday an kept it up there." He gave them a wry smile. The guard looked at Steven and made gestures to his partner, who stood beside him, his crossbow ready to fire. The enforcer took slow, crouched steps up the stairs like that of a hunter, his crossbow held in front of him. THe fourth step creaked.
With a yell Herobrine crashed into the Enforcer, first pushing the crossbow up and then falling right into the Enforcer. The Enforcer tumbled down the stairs. Before the other could fire his crossbow, the spine of Herobrine's journal crashed into his face, and the man reeled back, holding his bleeding eye. Herobrine jumped off the railing. Both made a run for the main door. Both the figures disappeared into the November snowfall.
—
05:00 PM
27th November
The administrative department looked as if cement blocks had dropped from the sky and were stacked horizontally or vertically at random. The structure was out of architectural proportions and had received quite a lot of criticism from all souls living outside the perimeter.
A 7 foot wall of solid cement surrounded it, coiled barbed wires held up by Y—shaped rusted rods. There were residential blocks inside for hing ranking offices and other important figures.
One such godly figure walked through the beige hallways of the A3 block towards A1. A1 was Notch's personal block. A2 was concerned with surveillance and monitoring and A3 was the executive block and and A4 was the place where data and files were archived.
Notch was concerned about Herobrine. He had ordered all his guards to not use any force against him, but they had duty to reisolate Herobrine and had to use he somehow escaped. Notch had no clue where he was. What state he was in. Who he was with. Whether he was even alive?
He was more than tempted to drag Herobrine back here and look after him like before, nourish him, and get back to correcting him.
He is my responsibility, I will discipline him with sweet words or brute force if required.
This felt a bit wrong at times, but he was the only person who could change Hero. He had no choice. He knew that Hero can do much better than sulking, raging and being the way he is. They were just the things he learnt from bad company. Nothing else.
In a large office, he knocked at the desk of a woman working on a computer.
"I want the statistics on my desk. Now"
The woman nodded, muttering a yes sir and working faster. An officer entered and saluted Notch. "Your Majesty, We have sent two enforcers to Lord Steven's residence"
"Good." He leaned against the desk. The woman awkwardly shifted away from the monitor. "I want that by 7:00. Burn that book the moment it comes."
"Yes, Your Majesty"
He had left the room when a man from A4 entered. "Your majesty, a few files are not found"
Notch yawned, "What is it now?"
"Two files, your majesty. Missing."
"Serial number?"
"00011 and 00013."
Notch stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the two officials trailing behind him in horror. "File an arrest warrant against Steven. Revoke his title. Immediately."
