"Dear Holy Mother, please smite Ga'ran with every unholy, malevolent force you've got at your disposal- lighting, fire, people fatter than she is sitting on her head… I don't care what you do as long as she dies a painful death!" Inga angrily proclaimed, his hands clasped together as he kneeled before the Founder's orb which he had placed on the center of his bed.
However, after a few seconds of nothing happening, the disgruntled Minster of Justice got up and glared at the Founder's orb as it made a fool of him in his own bedroom, just like Ga'ran.
"Stupid orb!" Inga snapped, slapping the sacred artifact with the back of his hand and causing it to gently fall over on its side, cushioned by his tear-stained bad-memory-filled foam mattress. "I don't get it! I did what the riddle wanted! Every night for a whole week, I've passionately prayed to this damn thing for Ga'ran's death, especially after her late-night ambushes, and yet nothing! This orb's just like everyone in Ga'ran's family- useless, full of lies, and exist only to drive me mad! … That is, except Rayfa. She's a saint."
Inga let out an exasperated sigh as he placed the Founder's Orb in his secret safe and locked it up for the night.
"Damn riddle… Making me waste my time with that damn head monk… Could have had him attempt to kill Ga'ran…" Inga grumbled to himself as he climbed into his bed. "Well, no use crying over spilled milk. Right now, I should just focus on getting some sleep. After all, I can't endure what hell awaits me tomorrow if I don't have the energy."
After a few minutes of lightly sobbing into his pillow, Inga drifted off into a deep sleep where he was lucky enough to have one of his favorite recurring dreams. In this dream world, the Minister of Justice, who was just as muscular as his Plumed Punisher depiction, was in the audience chamber, which in his head was one big stroke for his ego as it was filled to the brim with his likeness- gold busts of his head, giant marble statues of him standing shirtless and holding lightning bolts, and even a fountain structured to look like he was urinating in it- where he sat regally on the large, imposing gold throne reserved for the leader of Khura'in, where dozens of attractive, scantily-cladded women swooned over him and sang his praises.
"Oh, Minister Inga…" A busty blonde with long, wavy hair purred as she rubbed his shoulders. "Your handsomeness and strength is matched only by your genius intellect! How did you manage to crush the Defiant Dragons so easily?"
"What can I say, doll?" Inga smirked. "Catching crooks come naturally to me… among other things…"
The woman took a step back, letting out a longing sigh as she fanned her face with her hand.
"Minister Inga…" The woman moaned. "Every time you speak, I become the happiest woman in the world. That's why I'm your biggest fan!"
"Hold it right there!" An equally-busty woman with black hair styled in a bob cut snapped as she marched over to the other girl. "You can't be Minister Inga's biggest fan because I'M his biggest fan!"
"Oh, please!" The blonde huffed with a roll of her eyes. "You're not even worthy of being in the same room as Minister Inga!"
"Like you're worth his time? I scratch his head and know where his dandruff builds. Isn't that right, Minister Inga…?" The other girl whispered the last sentence in Inga's ear as she began to scratch his head.
"You jest! Minister Inga is the manliest man to ever exist, and like all manly men, he prefers shoulder rubs above head scratches!" The blonde objected as she started to rub Inga's shoulders.
"Ladies, Ladies…" Inga soothingly sighed. "There's no need to fight, see? There's plenty of me to go around."
"Oh, Minister Inga!" The women moaned simultaneously as they sat on his lap, wrapping their arms around the Minister's shoulders and flashing him sultry grins.
As a woman with long, straight red hair sauntered over to Inga, feeding him cookies like how a Roman emperor would be fed grapes, General Grievous from Star Wars, wearing his long, flowing black cape, marched into the room, dragging Ga'ran, whose arms and legs were shackled, behind him before pushing her to the ground.
"My Lord…" Grievous said, bowing on one knee before Inga. "I have completed my orders and brought this vile witch before you."
"Good." Inga smirked. "Now start her trial."
"As you wish, My Lord…" Grievous replied, standing up and directing his attention to their prisoner, his large, hulking frame towering over her as she cowered on the ground like a mere child. "Ga'ran Sigatar Khura'in, you are on trial today for the crime of physically and emotionally abusing the handsomest, smartest, strongest man to ever exist. How do you plead?" The cyborg growled, his eyes narrowing as he glared daggers at the defendant.
"W-Well…" Ga'ran meekly stammered, her thoughts slipping from her mind out of sheer fear. "I feel that-"
"I've heard enough!" Grievous roared, punching a nearby wall with his robotic hand and leaving a sizeable hole behind. "As judge and executioner, I find the defendant guilty! And now to fulfil the later role…!" The cyborg remarked as he pulled out and activated two lightsabers, one blue and the other green.
"Wait!" Ga'ran wailed as tears filled her eyes. "Please, Minister Inga, have mercy on my soul! I was a fool to be so cruel to you! I now see the error of my ways and vow that if you spare my life, I will devote it to you- shower you with compliments, doing whatever you ask of me, not sodomizing you whenever you try to take a shower…! All I ask is that you show compassion and give me a second chance!"
"Shall I strike her down, Minister Inga?" grievous asked, turning to face Inga who had his thumb sticking out to the side like a Roman emperor watching a match at the colosseum.
"Too little, too late, Ga'ran…" Inga sneered, pointing his thumb down, signaling Grievous to continue with the execution.
Raising his mighty laser swords above his head, Grievous proceeded to swiftly bring his light sabers down with a fast, powerful stroke showcasing his might. However, before his attack landed, his weapons turned into ringing telephones which caused some pain for Ga'ran, but failed to mortally wound her, let alone kill.
Inga then found himself lying awake in his bed as he cast his glaring, bloodshot eyes at the ringing telephone on his nightstand that dared to disturb his slumber.
"Damn telemarketers! Why is it that they always rear their ugly mugs when there's joy in my life, but are nowhere to be found when Ga'ran wants to have sex or force me to accompany her to the theatre?!" Inga fumed as he picked up the phone
Though upon answering the call, the Minister's became all the angrier as his ears were assaulted by what appeared to be music, but sounded like the bastard child of a jazz band and a taiko drum, followed by one of the most pompous, snobby voices that he had ever heard.
"Hello, sir or ma'am, I am-"
"I don't care what you're selling! I don't want it!" Inga yelled as he slammed the phone on the receiver. However, almost immediately after hanging up, the phone began to ring again, and sure enough, upon answering it, Inga was greeted with the same annoying music and voice.
"Hello, sir or ma'am, I-"
"Go away!" Inga yelled, his face growing slightly redder, before violently ending the call once more.
But unfortunately for Inga, this telemarketer was either very stubborn, dumb, or had nothing better to do since he immediately called the Minister again…
"Hello, sir or ma'am, I-"
"Leave me alone!" Inga snarled before ending the call.
And again…
"Hello, sir or ma'am-"
"Quit calling this number!" Inga loudly screeched before hanging up once more.
And again…
"Hello, sir or-"
"Can't ya take freakin' hint, ya damn mook!?" Inga lividly roared before actually disconnecting his landline. "Ha! Try callin' me now, you son of a Ga'ran!" The Minister of Justice sneered as he got under his satin covers.
However, Inga's victory was short lived because about 30 seconds later, just as he was nice and snug under his covers, his cellphone began to ring, prompting the Minister's left eye to twitch as he slowly got out of bed and stomped over to his desk.
Inga didn't want to do this, he was tired and just wanted to go to sleep, but ministers of justice don't get that luxury. If he missed a phone call, it could result in a Defiant Dragon escaping justice, or a riot breaking out- errors that would end in Ga'ran beating him down, both verbally and physically, trying to kill him, or worse... That is why, despite how much Inga wanted to just throw his cellphone out the window and be done with this whole ordeal, he had to take the call on the off-chance he needed to perform his duties as minister of justice.
But given Inga's horrible luck in life, this was not the case as he was once again greeted to…
"Hello, sir or ma'am, I am-"
"Look, I am at my wits end here, see! I have to deal with the pigheaded leader of a terrorist group that keeps on evading me, a fat, cantankerous cow of a wife that I can't evade, and I'm forced to eat high-fiber cereal on a daily basis that has turned my ass into an upside-down chocolate volcano! So the last thing I need is some asshat pestering me when I'm trying to get a moment of repose!" Inga roared, clenching his cellphone so hard that his knuckles began to turn white. "So stop calling this number, or I won't hesitate to sick the police on ya!"
"Sir, please calm down." The voice responded in a slightly irritated tone, as if Inga had irritated him. "Now, I am first and foremost a man of the people, and if you wish for me to leave you alone, I'll do just that. However, as a man who cares about public safety, I will not do that until after you listen to my important discovery involving our fair community."
Inga, who was in no mood to rally the secret police and fill out more paperwork than he had to, decided that it would be easier to just let the telemarketer say his piece so he could get back to sleep.
"*Sigh…* What's your announcement?" Inga groaned, feeling that he would quickly come to regret this conversation.
"I'm glad you asked, sir. Did you know that Kurain's water contains two-parts hydrogen and one-part oxygen?"
"Is that so…?" Inga growled through gritted teeth, mustering all of his willpower to stop himself from facepalming and cussing the moronic caller out. Sure, Khura'in wasn't exactly the most scientific nation out there, but even Inga knew the basic composition of water.
"I'm afraid so, sir. Hydrogen- the same gas used in the Hindenburg!" The man yelled, followed by what seemed to be the sound of a fist hitting a table. "Are we going to stand idly by and allow the current corrupt establishment to poison our children's drinking water with the same stuff used by the Nazis to fuel their accursed death blimps!?"
"Corrupt establishment…?" Inga growled, believing that the man was referring to Khura'in and how he and Ga'ran were running the nation. "Nothing could be farther from the truth, see? Now stop making up such outrageous stories or you won't have a mouth to talk with, capiche?"
"I know that it's hard to believe that our government would betray us, but there is still hope for the future! Elect me, Paul Atishon, to the Kurain Village Council and I will not rest until our humble village's water is 100-percent free of all forms of hydrogen! Remember, a vote for Paul Atishon is a vote for clean water for every woman, child, and pets of all species in Kurain! So, respected citizen, can I count on your vote to help reclaim the glory of Kurain?"
"Not on your life, airhead!" Inga snapped, his limit finally being reached.
"And why not, may I ask?" Atishon huffed. "Are you a Nazi!? Because only a Nazi would want to keep Kurain's water filled with hydrogen so they can make our children and women explode! That's right, I'm onto your evil plans to destroy everything that Kurain holds dear- bagels, musicals, blue-collar day labor- and I, nor the rest of my decent, ethically-sound constituents, will stand for it! So try as you may to cover our streets, houses, and clouds with swastikas, but the noble people of Kurain Village will fight you with everything we've got until the end of time! BANZAI! BANZAI! BANZAI!"
"No, Spartacus! I don't know where the hell Kurain Village is, but I'll have you now that I live in Khura'in, as in the COUNRTY!" Inga roared.
"Oh… I think I may have misread the phonebook." Atishon mumbled under his breath.
"Ya think!?" Inga snarled. "I'm surprised you can even read, considering that you don't know what water's made of! It's called H2O for a reason, you son of a Ga'ran! Now, I don't know what time it is in Knockoff Village, but here in Khura'in it's one in the freaking morning and as minister of justice, I need my sleep to keep myself from killing my wife with my bare hands!"
"Minister of Justice…?" Atishon said with astonishment in his voice.
"Yeah, something wrong with that?"
"Not at all, Minister…?"
"Inga, Inga Karkhuul Khura'in."
"Minister Inga… I am a young man a head full of ideas and a heart full of dreams, the cornerstones of any good politician. And while the mighty redwood is tall and awe-inspiring, even it starts off as a mere sapling that requires care and nurturing from those bigger and more experienced than it to grow. But while this process can seem like a waste of time at first, I can assure you that-"
"Get to the point, Atishon, or I won't hesitate to have my secret police hunt you down and make you." Inga groaned.
"The point I'm getting at: I need a benefactor- someone who'll graciously donate funds to help keep my election campaign running smoothly. And who better to do so than a minister of justice? Now, before you get all angry and refuse my request, I'm not asking for a free handout. If you agree to fund my campaign, I'll be more than willing to help you out with a few requests- you know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours, Circle of Life, etcetera."
"Anything…?" Inga asked, a sinister grin spreading across his face as he eyed his secret safe. "Even stuff that could result in, say… a coup d'état?"
"Minister Inga…" Atishon said with a chuckle. "I'm a politician. It wouldn't be right if I weren't engaging in those kinds of deals."
"Excellent!" Inga smirked. "Ok, Atishon, I'll play your little game and help you out, but you'll be doing a little something for me first."
"What do you need?"
"Know anyone who's an expert at seventh century Khura'inese culture, particularly riddles?"
"Funny you ask, Minister Inga. Why, just 40 minutes ago, I visited Kurain Village's newest resident to secure his vote, an archeologist named Archie Buff."
"Is he any good? Because I can't afford any mistakes with this, see?"
"You need not worry, Minister Inga. Professor Buff's the kind of guy who can have a one-way discussion with you for 30 minutes about ancient cultures, going into detail about the diets, physical actives, family structure, and all sorts of stuff from just a few squiggles on a small stone. If anyone can help you out, it's him. Plus, since Buff's retired, he's so desperate for new artifacts to study that he'll take pretty much anything given to him with no questions asked."
"Alright…" Inga said with a bit of hesitation in his voice as he stroked his goatee. "Give me your email and we'll discuss this in further detail sometime tomorrow. But just remember- mess this up and I'll have my boys hunt you down like a dog."
"Wonderful! You won't regret this, Minister Inga. I think that this will be the start of a wonderful friendship!" Atishon remarked as he ended the call.
Yeah, as wonderful as my marriage to Ga'ran… But if it means solving that damn riddle and making Rayfa more spiritually powerful, I'll tolerate it. Inga internally groaned as Atishon gave him his email address.
After exchanging farewells with his new associate, Inga wasted no time in putting his cellphone on his nightstand and getting into his bed, pleased with how he managed to knock two birds out with one stone. However, right as the Minister of Justice closed his eyes, he heard a soft knock at his door.
"Why!?" Inga wailed. "Does Ga'ran feel that I'm not suffering enough tonight and wants to fix that with her damn paddle!?" The Minister of Justice leapt out of his bed with clenched fists and teeth as he stormed over to the door. "I swear, if I open that door and find Ga'ran giving me that freaking 'I'm horny' smile of hers, she's getting a fist right in the kisser! I don't care how she'd punish me! Hell, at this point, I'm willing to sign my own execution papers just to get some rest!"
But when Inga unlocked and opened the door, his anger quickly diminished when he saw not Ga'ran, but Rayfa standing before him.
"Rayfa, what are you doing up. We've both got busy days tomorrow, see?"
"I'm sorry to interrupt your sleep, Father." Rayfa said as she eyed the ground. "It's just… Would it be too much trouble if I slept in your private quarters tonight?"
"Rayfa, as your father, I'll always love you and do whatever I can to help you, but you're 14. You can't sleep in my room whenever you feel like it without it getting weird."
"But Father, I had an awful, awful nightmare that continues to terrify me to my very core!" Rayfa said with terror in her voice.
My life's one big nightmare, but you don't see me complaining. "Rayfa, it's probably not as bad as you think. Maybe if you tell me about it, you'll feel better."
"Ok…" Rayfa reluctantly answered, obviously still shaken up by the experience. "In my dream, I was sitting in my private quarters, minding my own business, when out of the blue, Mother burst in, wearing her old prosecutor's outfit as she brandished her paddle. Then, before I could even have a chance to react, she jumped on my bed before mercilessly beating me with said paddle as she told me how ugly, stupid, and worthless I am…"
At this point, Rayfa was beginning to whimper, one of the few things in this world that could melt Inga's ice-cold heart, sniffling a little before resuming her story.
"But… But just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, Mother then began to strangling me to the point where I started to black out, my world becoming engulfed in darkness as her shrill cackling filled the air… So please, Father, let me stay with you tonight!" Rayfa wailed as she squeezed her father in a bear hug, slightly soaking his pajamas with her tears.
Just add some Barry White playing in the background and you have a typical Friday night for me… Nevertheless, that isn't the kind of imagery that my little princess should have to deal with alone! "Ok, ok, you can sleep here tonight. Just stop with the waterworks. You know I can't stand to see you cry."
"Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you!" Rayfa squealed, a smile spreading across her face as she squeezed Inga's torso even harder. "You're the kindest man to ever exist!"
"Don't mention it, Rayfa… Really, don't. I've got a lot on my plate and I don't need your mother's contempt towards me taking up even more space on it."
"Alright, Father!" Rayfa chirped as she let go of Inga's torso and rushed into his private quarters as he closed and locked the door behind her.
Wasting no time, Rayfa quickly pounced onto the left side of Inga's bed like a lioness on a wildebeest and wasted no time in snuggling up under the covers as her father made his way over to the right side.
"Father, can you please make me some warm milk?" Rayfa innocently asked, her head being the only part of her body that wasn't under the soft covers.
"Rayfa, have mercy on your poor father. I just wanna get some sleep. Can't you go without it?" Inga pleaded as he rubbed his eyes in order to keep himself awake.
"But Father, I can't sleep if I don't consume a glass of warm milk! Nayna does it for me!" Rayfa objected.
"Do I look like Nayna to you?" Inga wryly retorted. "If you want that kind of treatment so badly, then go stay with her."
"But Father! The servants' quarters are so far away, and Nayna isn't strong enough to defeat Mother if she tries to attack me!"
Like I'm any better? If I could defeat Ga'ran on my own, you think I'd stay here? "Fine, I'll get your milk, but you better fall right to sleep without a single peep."
"Don't worry, Father, I will." Rayfa reassured Inga as he made his way to his little kitchen area in another portion of the building.
Fortunately for Inga, while Ga'ran was merciless when it came to his diet, forbidding him from enjoying anything that could give him joy, she did allow him to have milk, so he was set in that regard. Though unfortunately for Inga, he was as skilled in the kitchen as his wife was tender in the bedroom. So suffice to say, the Minister of Justice suffered many an injury while preparing Rayfa's warm beverage including, but not limited to, dropping the pot on his foot, hurting his other foot after kicking the stove when it wouldn't turn on, and suffering multiple burns when the milk burst out of the pot like water from a geyser.
So after 20 agonizing minutes in the kitchen, Inga emerged, covered in bandages, carrying a tray with a piping hot cup of milk on it.
"Here's your milk." Inga groaned as he lowered the tray towards his daughter.
"What took you so long, Father? I was starting to get worried." Rayfa calmly asked as she quickly grabbed the cup and began sipping the drink, lightly blowing on it between sips to make the heat more bearable.
"Don't ask. So, how's the milk?" Inga asked after plopping face down on his side of the bed.
After taking another sip of her drink, Rayfa smacked her lips before cocking her head in contemplation and spending a few seconds to ponder over her answer.
"Smooth, creamy, heated just right… I have to say, Father, I'm most impressed. Your warm milk tastes almost as good as Nayna's. If only you added a pinch of cinnamon like she does…"
"Good for Nayna. Let's celebrate her skills in the kitchen by getting some sleep." Inga wearily suggested, his voice muffled by his sheets.
"Father…?" Rayfa asked as she gently rubbed Inga's shoulder. "I'm sorry if I'm coming off as a bother, but can you please tell me a bedtime story? I really need one to help me get over what Mother did to me in that nightmare."
If I needed to hear a story every time Ga'ran's tortured me, even the Brothers Grimm would start to run out of ideas. "*Sigh…* If it'll help us both get to sleep faster…" Inga groaned as he sat up, leaning his back against the headboard, as Rayfa rested her head on his chest.
After clearing his throat, Inga began his tale.
"Once upon a time, there was a prosecutor- a little rough around the edges, but nonetheless he was a good man who only wanted the best for society. He was a skilled at his job, with a wit as sharp as a dagger and a tongue just as cutting. Oh, and at one point he was a great soccer player, having scored five goals in one game at the height of his career."
Inga paused, taking a deep breath and patting Rayfa's shoulder before continuing.
"… But alas, all good things must come to an end. For one day, the skies above Khura'in became dark as thick clouds rolled in, blocking out the sun's life-giving light, as the giant, fat, ugly spider-whale invaded the land. Who would fight the evil spider-whale? Who would protect the innocent people from its incessant nagging and cold, merciless nether regions? Who would satisfy its… needs? Having to pick someone to undergo these tasks, all the people of Khura'in stepped back, sacrificing the prosecutor to her, or perhaps the Holy Mother pushed him forward… Nevertheless, a cold, loveless marriage came into existence that day as the spider-whale forced the prosecutor to take her old job as minister of justice and made him make love to her whenever she felt like it. Sometimes the prosecutor was lucky and would only have to deal with the cold, saggy torture twice a week, but more often than not, he would have to deal with it around eight to ten times- four to six if he was quick in the shower and did it early enough in the morning. And so, the poor prosecutor, who was at one time a skilled athlete and a hero to his country, laid down and cried, praying that the Holy Mother would strike Khura'in with an asteroid and put him out of his misery… The end."
Inga looked down and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that Rayfa had fallen asleep at some point during the story.
"You've read my mind, Rayfa." Inga remarked as his eyes lowly began to close and he warm feeling of a deep sleep began to engulf his entire being.
But unfortunately, Inga's sleep was short-lived once more as he was snapped back in to the waking realm by the sound of someone knocking on his door.
Getting out his bed again, though carefully as to not wake Rayfa, Inga stormed over to his door and flung it open, ready to give whoever had the gall to disturb him this time no mercy. However, just like with Rayfa earlier, Inga's bravado and anger quickly left his body the second he opened the door. But unlike with Rayfa, who replaced his rage with a warm feeling of love, this person instead replaced Inga's wrath with pure terror.
Standing before the Minister of Justice was a being with the body of General Grievous, but with Ga'ran's head.
"Hello there…" The cyborg abomination purred, flashing Inga a sultry grin as the color drained from his face.
Inga then proceeded to slowly close the door and lock it. However, that did little to help him as the Ga'ran monster proceeded to rip the door off its hinges with ease, effortlessly throwing it behind her like one would a scrap piece of paper before marching into the building.
"No!" Inga yelled, his eyes bugging out as he slowly backed away until his back hit the wall. "This ain't right!"
"Oh, but it is…" The Ga'ran cyborg sneered. "I've always been greater than you, Inga, both in politics and in the bedroom!"
With lightning-fast reflexes, the Ga'ran cyborg grabbed Inga by the collar of his shirt and threw him to the ground, followed by firmly planting her large, clawed metal foot square on the Minister's chest, grinning ear to ear as he desperately tried to squirm free, but to no avail.
"Is that all you've got, Inga? Though I shouldn't be surprised, given your disappointing history. Nevertheless, it'll make this all the more fun…" The Ga'ran cyborg jeered before tearing off Inga's pants and underwear with one swift motion, followed by splitting her arms into four as she used one to lift up his legs, exposing his rear end, as she took out three long purple dildos with the remaining arms. "Before we start, how about a little music?"
At that moment, Barry White's Never Gonna Give You Up began to play, prompting Inga to scream in terror and squirm even more vigorously. Seeing that the mood was set, the Ga'ran cyborg raised her three erotic weapon-wielding arms, aiming at the now-weeping Minister's derriere before mercilessly lunging them all simultaneously towards their intended target with tremendous power.
However, before Inga was harmed, he woke up screaming and shot up into a sitting position, his body trembling and covered in cold sweat.
Looking over at the nearby clock on his nightstand, Inga saw that it was only an hour had passed since he talked to Atishon over the phone. Understandably shaken up from his nightmare, Inga knew that he wouldn't be able to spend the four hours of sleep he had left in his room and, gathering up his sheets and pillow, did the one thing that he could do.
A few minutes later in Rayfa's private quarters, the princess was in a deep sleep, dreaming sweet dreams of her fighting Dhurke and the Defiant Dragons with the Plumed Punisher, when she was suddenly woken up from her slumber by the sound of someone knocking on her door.
Dragging herself out of bed while rubbing the fogginess out of her eyes, Rayfa slowly waddled over to her bedroom door, which upon opening, she found her father, the proud minister of justice who had struck fear into civilians and criminals alike, cowering in her hallway like a stray puppy in the rain.
"Did you have the nightmare again, Father?" Rayfa asked with a concerned tone.
"Uh-huh…" Inga timidly responded with a soft nod.
"Do you want to spend the rest of the night with me?"
"Uh-huh…" Inga responded with another nod.
"Well don't you worry, Father. You're safe with me. And to make you feel better, I'll even tell you a bedtime story!" Rayfa chirped, gently grabbing Inga's arm as she guided him into her room. "Once upon a time, there was a strong, smart, beautiful princess named Rayfa. She was beloved by everyone in Khura'in as she and her best friend, the Plumed Punisher, defended the land from the evil Dhurke and his dastardly Defiant Dragons. One day…"
Rayfa continued telling her story to Inga as she slowly closed the door and proceeded to take the spare cot out of her closet that she saved for just such an occasion. And much to the young princess' joy and relief, her father fell sound asleep in his temporary bed a few minutes later, once more enjoying the sweet dream of Ga'ran being punished by a psychotic cyborg from a movie series that he binge watched on his laptop while hiding from Ga'ran in the bathroom on many occasions.