Framework of the Frontier by Sain Artwell (classic books for 11 year olds txt) 📗

of envelopes blew past William’s face, making him squint his eyes.

On the other side of an ancient bridge stood the largest of the four spires. Greenery draped its blocky, almost brutalist design. Circuit-like patterns of purple-blue gradients ran in the grooves of the stonework, intensifying in their humming glow whenever letters flew in or out of the many narrow windows. Past an open archway tall enough to fit a bus sideways in height, they were welcomed by lines of saluting marble statues. Each wore a smile, a crown, and a mailman’s satchel. The first thirty something were humans dressed in a variety of flamboyant robes. The very last one, however, was an elf in ragged armor, a tilted crown to match her hunched pose, and a face of surprise.

“Letter King, huh?” William realized he’d said the thought out loud.

“The one and only,” said a prideful voice of a man. The wrinkly richly robed man shared the trimmed square beard and fox-like perma-grin of the second to last statue. A flicker of static turned his body translucent, distorting his voice for an instant. “Welcome to the Royal Parcelforce headquarters, how may I be of assistance?”

“We’re escorting a guest to meet the Letter King.” Lidarein gestured to William. “Will you let us pass?”

“Ah, miss Aeldewud, welcome back.” The man faced her with a jovial grin. “Of course, right this way.” He flickered out and re-appeared further down the right turn on a t-crossing. “Now, I must ask, have you reconsidered the wealth of competitive employment opportunities the Royal Parcelforce has to-”

Lidarein lifted her palm to interrupt him. “Nope. No thanks.”

“I see,” he nodded. Unfazed, the man turned his smile to the faun girl. “Ah, miss Fireberry, welcome back. Now, I must ask, have you-”

“No thank you,” her voice was as soft as her tuft tail looked fluffy.

“I see,” the man nodded. He turned to the next person, going through each of them individually, receiving quick rejections, until it was finally William’s turn.

“Ah, I don’t believe you have yet been introduced to the employment opportunities available at the Royal Parcelforce, mister. Would you be interested in an exciting new opportunity? Here at Royal Parcelforce we’re all part of the family and committed to guaranteeing fast and reliable delivery.”

“Say no,” Lidarein said. She gave the ethereal butler a frown of disdain. “The ghost of past Letter Kings tries to trick all who enter into servitude. If you agree, the fortress will abduct you into ‘a training program’ dungeon of almost certain death. The folks of ancient Iram were a bit deranged.”

“Um,” the fluffy failed ‘Miss Fireberry’ began, careful not to speak over anyone. “I don’t believe they were that insane. It’s more likely centuries of neglect has turned it more dangerous. ”Her voice had a fun dancy tune to it — a foreign accent that did not quite match any William knew.

He told the patient ghost, “No thanks.”

“Regrettable.” His expression remained frozen in a businessman’s smile. “If any of you would like to change your mind, remember: Eager go-getters are always welcome to join the Royal Parcelforce family.” His tone had a recorded quality, the whole man did. He resembled an artificial intelligence closer than what a ghost should be like.

Although, given William’s understanding of this place being a flat zero, he couldn’t say for sure. Magic seemed to be a thing as were supernatural species. That’s about all he knew so far.

The world was stringing him along with new question after question after question ad infinitum. Hell, he hadn’t even figured out how these people spoke English yet.

Fuck it man, get a grip and stop ogling at stuff. Walking into the castle of potentially hostile authority without knowing a first thing about anything was a major idiot move. What was that saying about knowing neither thyself nor thy enemy to guarantee a failure? Pretty sure I’ve assembled all the ingredients for getting screwed over big time.

William gave his cheek a mental slap, clearing his voice. “So, this Letter King, she’s not actually ‘the king’ is she?”

Miss Fireberry began opening her lips, but Lidarein’s voice cut her off, “The ghost keeps calling her that so it’s easier to use the title, but she might as well be. Letter King acts as the colonial governor of the Cursed Frontier.”

“Cursed Frontier? Sounds… Cursed.” Smooth as a mix of butter and sand.

“Hehe, don’t worry. It’s not cursed, at least not in the traditional sense.” That Fireberry girl sure had a captivating smile. God, she and Lidarein are eye-candy. William’s eyes dipped down her warmly tanned neck to the tantalizing curve of heavy breasts that her top struggled to restrain.

“Here we are.” The ghost bowed out of the way.

Their steps echoed in the vast chamber lit up by narrow windows and patterns of magical circuitry.

In one corner of the room sang a group of beautiful human dancers surrounded by a miniature tropical garden. Their presence lasted for a moment before being snuffed out in a flutter of static. Last lights of their vibrant performance were absorbed into a shimmering gemstone held by a silhouette lazing on a throne padded by fur and silk. Seeing no one else besides her, William assumed this woman was the Letter King.

Patterns of light pulsed in her eyes and on her pale exposed skin in a rhythm matching the circuitry on the walls. Layers of wispy dark silks embroidered with platinum and pearly gems draped her model-like figure. The amount of rings, earrings, and various face piercings of star-white metal was at once both punk and strangely aristocratic.

“And here comes the fifth. How thrilling…” Layers of silk spilled off of Letter King’s thighs as she crossed her legs, handing over the crystal to a disembodied ghostly hand. A shaft of daylight revealed her expression to share the jaded apathy of her voice. “Perhaps they finally sent one of