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O'Chunks found himself setting into a routine in Castle Bleck. From the information provided by Nastasia, he was to be effectively the head of Security in Castle Bleck. He wasn't sure as to why as it seemed at peace since there was almost nothing outside of Castle Bleck, just a dimly lit wasteland and a troubling purple sky which made your eyes itch. From what he could see outside of Nastasia and Count Bleck, there were at most a couple of dozen other souls in the Castle who cooked, farmed and took care of the Castle on a day-to-day basis - a departure from leading an army. Of course there were disputes between the people within the rest of the Castle but they were scarcely more than a diversion. O'Chunks would have found himself falling to a feeling strangely worse than that of grief and guilt - of feeling irrelevant if it was not for the gymnasium that Nastasia had introduced him to as part of orientation. Alongside some strange machines he saw Nastasia use on occasion there was

O'Chunks lay on his bed in the generous but spartan quarters that had been assigned to him in Castle Bleck. He was unsure of how many days it had been since Count Bleck and the women known as Nastasia had brought him here but it was all something of a blur, almost dream-like in terms of all the strange things that he had been put through since coming here. It was like he had died after all and this was a completely new life since he saw nothing of O'Seamus. He touched his chin, the only thing that remained was his beard. From the first day of his arrival he awoke in a strange, brightly-lit strangely smelling room where Nastasia was present at his bedside. "Good Morning, O'Tcheunks. I hope you have slept well for there is going to be a lot that needs to be done over the next few days. Count Bleck requires you have a medical examination and some time to rest first though." To his surprise, he understood most of what she was saying as if she was speaking his language, but there where

O'Seamus sat on the cot in the room that was to be his quarters and shut his eyes. The last day (as far as he could tell) had been a blur - a waking nightmare. Even now he wasn't sure he was actually awake as he was thousands of miles away from anything he'd known. Gone were the mountains and the loughs; the fleeting shafts of light on the water bright like silver; the frequent rains; the soft green grass. The warmth and camaraderie of his men around a campfire. But also the thrill of the battlefield and the screams of the vanquished. The wash of elation and fear as you could never be sure out of your men who would still be alive at nightfall. And the strange quietness in his head as he focused on where to send his troops as the battle unfolds. How he could be sure that those who were closest to him he could trust with his life... He awoke with a start - a rank wash of fear sweat on his face. The screams and then the silence and the frantic dash to a new position. The

It was hard to tell how much time had passed between waking up on the shingle bank to the slow shamble he made as he gingerly avoided pools of mud and fallen trees impeding his progress. Odd, thought Luigi, I should be more tired, I am tired but I don't feel hungry. He looked down at his hands and wished he hadn't. They seem a bit kinda tattered - they'd be bleeding but they aren't. Better not think about it too much. I don't want to think about my feet. I'm not used to not wearing shoes - the river did for them and there were some spiky bits here and there on the trees and in the mud. He paused. He was still walking upriver as far as he could tell, mostly because there wasn't any downriver to speak of. On waking, all he could see was an almost seamless blend of misty swamp and the strange purplish river blurring to what passed for the horizon with a few banks of gravel for company. At least the riverbanks were more like riverbanks and there hadn't been any pools of mud he had to