"Master Tazir," Kohl Zolwin, a green-skinned Goblin who had warts on his cheeks, chin, and a single wart on his forehead, and who had solid black eyes, whispered after knocking on the door to his employer's office. It didn't take long for him to hear his employer calling for him to come in; he opened the door then he went into the room that he had been asked to go to by one of his co-workers.

"What is it, Kohl?" his employer, who had become a resident of the room three and a half hours ago, asked.

It didn't matter if the room was big, small, normal in size, or abnormally large—whenever he entered a room that his employer was in, he automatically knew where he was.

Despite his knowing where his employer was, he still gave his surroundings a quick checking. The room that was his employer's office was large and luxuriously detailed. The milk-white walls had purple roses on them; like with the hallways, there was a brown strip of wood placed at every six inch intervals. The carpet was a dark purple color while the ceiling was a soft purple color; there were hundreds of small circles in the ceiling—small, white light bulbs were in each circle.

The statue that was in the room's center had a flock of bats on it; some were flying while others were landing. The carved bats that were hanging upside down, or that were plain sitting, were few in number on the statue. While the statue had been carved out of stone there were plenty of living plants on it to give it a life-like feeling. The large bookshelf, that was built into the north-facing wall, had what looked to be thousands of books on it; a row of file cabinets were along the left-side wall—all sorts of non-filed files were on them.

His employer was seated on the room's right side—seeing as the man's desk was on that side of the room, and seeing as he only sat at his desk when he was doing paperwork, or something else of equal importance, this was quite normal. The desk that the man, who had employed him right out of Staffer's Academy, was sitting at was made out of pure granite stone; the chair that he was sitting in was a deep brown color. Not only was the chair leather but it also had a high back on it.

Sitting beside the desk was a cage; an albino bat, that had been in the room for as long as he could remember, was its occupant.

There was a couch off to the side of the desk; it was dark blue in color and it looked to of been made out of a velvety material. A set of chairs sat in front of the desk; they were a deep brown color and they had long backs on them.

His employer, regardless of being a Surfeit, and a member of one of the most prominent families in the M-51 Galaxy, didn't have anything on his desk that was odd or overly unique. The items that were on the desk were pretty basic: an antique brass banker office lamp, that had a green shade on it; a three-rack file, that was currently full of paper; a black, French style phone; a calculator; a Touchpad, complete with a pen that had a soft rubber top on it; and three framed photographs, that was what was on the desk.

The only thing that looked out of place on the desk was the black leather eye-glass case, which was currently sitting off to the desk's right side; this case was for his employer's goggled glasses—at the moment, the man's face was just as bare as could be thanks to his not wearing his glasses.

"Sir, Mr. Modulavich wished for me to give you this." Kohl said after reaching his employer's desk. The envelope that he was keeping in the pocket of his green-colored tuxedo was removed then placed on the desk. "He said that it's important, sir."

"Haven't heard anything from Homsi, or Eldass, in over a month." TazirVile said as he took the envelope from his desk. With the envelope in his possession, he turned his attention towards his wife and sons. "While you were on your way here did you hear anything from the room that my wife and sons are in?"

"Yessir—except for Young Master Lhaklar, all are walking around and talking among themselves." Kohl responded. "Seems to me that your oldest son is ill, sir. Your younger sons were saying something about their wanting to have some brushes."

"For their models—I'll collect and then bring them some in a few." despite the acknowledgement of the two younger boys needing some brushes, Kohl was able to detect that his employer was concerned for his firstborn son. "How ill did Lhaklar sound?"

"From what I heard, Mistress Angel says that he's running a slight fever." Kohl replied. "She was saying something about his condition revolving around his stress and his nervousness levels."

"Mhmmm, thank you Kohl." TazirVile held his hand up; he dismissed Kohl, who bowed then left the room.

Though concerned for his son he didn't think that it was his nerve and stress levels that were causing him to grow ill; while he didn't know how long the boy had been smoking, or when he had taken the habit up, he was sure that his oldest-born son's illness was coming from his lack of nicotine. His body was craving what had been put into it and, with it not getting any of it, it was throwing up a fuss and was making the one that was in possession of it grow sick.

With the knowledge of Lhaklar being ill fresh on his mind, TazirVile decided that the next time that he went into the room that his wife and sons were in he'd have more than a few paintbrushes on him—a heated blanket, that would keep his son warm if his illness caused him to grow chilled; some cool wraps, that could be placed either around his son's forehead or around his arms or legs; and some medicine that'd make his stomach not be so queasy would be on him as well. Since he was at it, he might as well grab a few jars of paint thinner, some newspapers, and either some glasses or mason jars for Hazaar and Lazeer too—that way they'd be able to do their models and not grow worried over the brushes becoming too stiff or paint-logged on them or about getting paint on the room's one bench or carpet.

With a plan in place on what he was to take to the boys, he opened the top drawer of his desk; a pair of latex gloves were removed from the one box that was in the drawer then the letter opener that was beside the box was picked up. The drawer was slid shut, then the gloves were donned, then the letter opener was pushed into the envelope.

He had nothing to fear from Homsi; not only was he the man's friend but he also trusted him—Homsi Modulavich was as gentle, and as safe, as a newborn baby. Still, though, the taking up and then donning of the gloves was a habit and a good one of his—it insured him that, if anything was on the envelopes that came in, or on the contents that were in the envelopes, it wouldn't get on him or cause him harm. He had started donning a pair of white latex gloves before opening the mail after his conquest of the Vaisha Galaxy occurred—who knew, maybe someone from one of his conquered realms had laced the envelope, or the papers that were in it, with a liquid chemical or a dust-like toxin with intention of taking him out so that their realm could go back to how it had been before he had set his sights on it and, who knew, maybe an enemy of his from an unassociated realm might have the same intention in mind to do in order to take him out so he, or she, could claim the glory of being his killer and then taking over the realms that he left behind.

He wasn't paranoid in doing this—the act of one who was a conqueror being taken out by a hidden toxin had happened more than once in the past. The former ruler of the Solol Galaxy—a Mojabah Corhdor—had been taken out by simply opening an envelope and then reading the contents that were in it; the current ruler of the Peilk Galaxy—a woman by the name of Slaajizah Zemsood—had been put in a coma after someone sneezed on her; and the current ruler of the Dioscuri Star System—a man by the name of Rheyfor Kudox—had lost his tongue, his entire left arm, and his penis after shaking hands with the son of the former rulers of the realm that he had just gotten through taking under his control.

He was a nice, decent man; he didn't conquer a planet and then go around, grabbing the women on that planet for a fear-enduced sex adventure and he didn't go around, saying that this or that member of a household had to die to prove that he was now the one in charge of the realm that he had just conquered. He was a nice, decent conqueror—one who left families intact, and who didn't slap down ridiculous laws, and one who didn't do over-taxing or put heavy regulations in on the way one lived. Regardless of his being nice and decent, he was still a conqueror—if the opportunity arose itself, certain people would jump just to get the title of being his killer. He had to be careful for not just himself but for his family too; he had to be careful of who he and his family were around, or who they hung around, and he had to be careful of what he and his family touched. Other than the possibility of toxins being present on certain paper items, or on the skin of one who was hoping to have close-hand experience with another who was very important, there was also the possibility of one having a hidden weapon on his person. He had just gotten his family back... he for damn sure didn't want to lose them and he for damn sure didn't want to lose his life either.

After the envelope was opened, he removed the contents, which was nothing more than a single sheet of paper; he read the words that were on the piece of paper slowly after noting what it was that was in the envelope.

Dear Master Tazir,

It has been a full month and five days since I was sent home to recover from injuries sustained on Earth during the fight that I had with one of your Generals; I have heard no word from you and am beginning to wonder if your silence isn't your way of saying that my position of being an employee of yours has been discontinued. I do apologize for disobeying you on Earth but I was busy fighting more than one and was also concentrating on assisting your wife and sons during their unneeded and uncalled for altercation with the members that you picked to go with Mr. Trobrencus, his wife, and their oldest son—my attentions, sir, were and had to be solely on them two areas.

I've heard that Young Master Lazeer was discovered to be alive and well; I am thrilled to hear that—you and Mistress Angel have always been fine parents and have always looked forward to the growth of your family... as have I, your most loyal employee. Hope all is well with you and that you swiftly win the trust, hearts, and affections appropriate from your wife and sons. ~ Homsi M.

No word from him had been heard by the Modulaviches in over a month? How could that be—surely Homsi had gotten the check that he had sent to him for his work-related injuries; he had sent it, and Eldass's, in the mail on the day following the fight that had happened on Earth between his sons, Trobrencus and his family, and his hand-picked Goblin militants.

He remembered taking the checks out from his book and then signing them—both, he recalled, had been blue and both had been made out for $2,365—and he also remembered putting them in an envelope and then sending them off. Homsi and Eldass both should of gotten them long before now.

With the letter read, and the matter of the non-received check now known, he grabbed the touchpad that was on his desk; with the soft-point pen, he checked his account to see if the amount that had been on the two checks had been removed—to his amazement, the number that had been on the checks' upper left corners didn't show up and the amount that had been written on them was still in his account.

He wondered what had happened to the checks for only a second before reaching his hand into the slate gray jacket that went with the tuxedo that he was wearing; his cellular phone, which had been placed in the inside pocket of his jacket, was retrieved and then used. Either the two checks had been lost while en-route to his employees or someone had done the snatch and then run routine—after dialing Zshon Zultoa's work cellular number, he used the touchpad to void out both checks. No amount of money of his was about to be stolen and his bank accounts were not about to be preyed on.

After dialing the number to the cellular that belonged to the son of his second Most Trusted employee, and then voiding out the two checks, he waited; in all, it took five minutes for Zshon Zultoa to knock on his door and then be told to come in.

"Master Tazir, I do apologize for keeping you so long. What is it?" Zshon Zultoa, a green-skinned Goblin, who had yellow eyes, and a rather large nose on a face that had large warts on its cheeks, chin, and forehead, said after entering his office.

"Your father, has he received a compensation check from me recently?" TazirVile was fast in asking.

"No sir, just the normal stuff coming in the mail. No checks from you." Zshon replied.

With this knowledge now known to him, he stood then went towards the bottom right corner of his office; Zshon watched him as he went towards the room's hidden safe for only a second before looking away.

Even though he didn't know what his employer was up to he knew well that the man needed his privacy—with the exception of Mistress Angel, no one knew the combination that went to the safe that was hidden in the office. The safe that was in the man's office was hidden behind a large portrait, which depicted his employer, his wife, and all of their children—Master Tazir had had an artist draw and then paint the portrait about a hundred years after his wife's, and sons', disappearance occurred. He imagined that it was just the basic stuff that was contained in the safe—check stubs that had a pre-made number written on them; blank checks that were only to be used in the case of an emergency; important documents, like birth certificates, his Universal Pin Number, and his Universal Monetary Value papers; the scroll that declared him as Angel Irene's Universal Husband; and an untold amount of loose cash was what was probably in the safe.

This hidden safe had been the original money-holding place in the mansion; before the Vaisha Galaxy was conquered, his employer had just used the safe to keep his loose cash, and other valuable items, in. Even though there were ten vaults in the house, the safe was still being used.

His employer, after taking two checks out of the safe, closed the safe; he placed the portrait back over the safe then he returned to his desk. The silver and bronze fountain pen, that had been placed in his inside jacket pocket, was removed and then used right afer he sat down.

"I'm surprised that no word from your father on his not getting a compensation check was received," his employer said after signing, dating, and then adding the desired amount to the blank check's appropriate places. After the pen was clicked shut, the check was held out; he took it slowly. "Be sure to give your father my apologies on his check being so late—I wasn't aware of any discrepencies happening with the mail system in regards to what I sent him."

"Yessir, I'll make sure to tell him that." Zshon said as he pocketed the check.

"I added an extra three hundred to that—make sure that he and only he gets it." his employer said after the check was safely on his person.

"Yessir—other than mine, his will be the only hands to touch it." Zshon said.

"Good man," TazirVile stood up, then walked around his desk; he was well on his way to exiting his office when he said, "You're dismissed. Thank you for coming in on such short notice."

"My job, sir." Zshon bowed.

One didn't just hand off a check to anybody; while he trusted most in his service, and while he knew that some in his service could be trusted to make a personal delivery of a check of any amount to one of their co-workers, he wasn't about to run the chance of someone getting a big head in stealing something that had his valuable information on it. After making out a check for $2,665 for one of his injured employees, and then making out a similar check for the other, he had made the decision to make a trip down to where certain members of his staff lived—not only would this trip ensure that the check got to the one that it had been made out for but it'd also assure Mr. Modulavich that his position as being an employee of his was safe.

Unlike some, who employed a staff and then allowed only a small handful of that staff to reside in the part of their home that had been set-up for them, he had made appropriations for two hundred and fifty of the people who worked for him—the apartments weren't low, or "rinky-dink" by any means, and the utilities that went with them were paid by him, as were any and all repairs that were made known to him that occurred with the housings. Most would just give the member of their staff who had had the balls to ask for one of the staff-made apartments to be given to them a wave of the hand; that staff member would be forced to reside in a very small, one-room apartment and he, or she, would also be forced to foot the monthly bills and repairs that went towards that housing—his brother, he remembered, gave his staff just a small closet-apartment to live in. Kuruk would sometimes jack up the utilities—and just because he could too; the man figured that, since the employee apartments were on his property, he could do as he wished with them. He had lost many an employee because of his utility price jack-ups and, also, because of his strict treatment of them.

His employees had enough going on in looking after themselves and in working for him; as a way to thank them, he provided them with adequate housing and he also paid their given housing's utilities for them.

It took him just fifteen minutes to get down to the hallway that the Modulaviches lived on; once he was before the door to their apartment, he stretched his hand out then knocked. It didn't take long for the door to be opened or for him to be let in.

"Mr. Surfeit, it is very nice to see you this near-afternoon." Abara Modulavich said after closing the door behind him.

"Same to you, Mrs. Modulavich." TazirVile said. "Is your husband around? I'd like to see and speak with him?"

"Y—"

"Over here, sir."

At first glance, he thought that the man belonged more in a hospital than at home. Homsi was up and about, yes, but his movements were very slow and stiff and he was being extraordinarily careful of stepping near anything that had a sharp edge on it. When the man reached him, he was careful in shaking his hand—he was in good physical health while the Goblin was not; he could well hurt the man by simply shaking his hand too roughly or by making any quick movements.

"Master Tazir, it is very nice to see you after so long." Homsi said.

"Have you been to a doctor?" TazirVile asked.

"No sir," Homsi replied.

"He's "toughing" it out, Mr. Surfeit." Abara said. "My husband's given me the word that, as soon as he voices his want in going to a hospital, I'm to pick up the phone and then dial away."

"What're the extent of your injuries?" TazirVile asked Homsi.

"His sides—from his armpits to just before his hips—were very black on the morning following his return home. I suspect that he had some very badly broken ribs on him." Abara said before her husband could answer the question asked to him. "He's still in pain but his sides have gone from being black to a very dark chocolate color."

"I suggest that you go to a doctor and get a diagnosis on your injuries." TazirVile said to his employee.

The check, along with a personal apology over it being so late in getting to his employee, was given over; he made a few more worried observations, and he spoke to his employee on how important it was for him to see a doctor, then he turned to leave. He was just about to leave the apartment when the Modulavich children made an appearance.

Homsi and Abara had a total of five children; of them five, only three had been allowed to interact with his sons and with Eshal. While Eshal knew of Gizzeppli and Galiza, the Modulaviches twin toddlers, and while she had voiced her congratulations to them for the two's births, she had never seen them.

Arenzoar, the oldest son of Homsi and Abara, looked a good deal like his mother; the large, blue eyes that were in his face had, without a doubt, come from his father. Dlahsleon, the secondborn son to the Modulaviches, looked very much like his father—the dark purple skin had come from his mother while everything else shouted Homsi.

The two, older boys, who had paired up to play with Bile and Lhaklar when they had been kids, asked him a few questions about Bile and Lhaklar, and then about Hazaar and Lazeer, before running off to another part of the apartment. Their sister, Beaufi, who looked like a perfect combination of both of her parents, asked him a few questions about his sons, then a bunch of questions on when she'd be able to see and interact with Eshal again, then she ran off to, he presumed, the apartment's kitchen.

Beaufi and Eshal were good friends—when they had been kids, they had done a lot of tagging up to drive Bile and Lhaklar crazy. Either Beaufi would follow Lhaklar around or she'd jump on Bile in an attempt to bring him down to his knees so she and Eshal could both plant kisses on him; Beaufi had also done the "pucker-up" routine with Bile as well, which had done more than make him run off, yelling Daddy, the girls are at it again in trying to give me cooties! The two had done the same with Lhaklar; they hadn't had the same result with him.

The kids were mainly asking him when they'd be able to see their old playmates again, and about how their old playmates were fairing after being returned to his mansion; after answering the questions presented to him, then watching the kids run off to another part of the apartment, then saying goodbye to the Modulaviches again, he left the apartment. He went straight up to the main portion of his house afterwards.