Okay, bare with me. I'm testing a new method of writing for this chapter, and it's more work for me, but I think this is better than my previos work when dubbing episodes. Tell me what you think of the style as I may continue more like this and maybe also go back to rewrite the first couple episodes too eventually..

I'm also not actually 100% of Mr Pudington's name, but it was down in a forum so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong!

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Cedric bowed down in the centre of the murmur room, taking his form as a young man. He had newly been apointed Lord by the young Prince Phobos, of whom he eagerly followed rule.

"The rebellion grows weaker every day Lord Cedric, and I trust you intend to crush them soon?"

Cedric would much prefer to see the face of the young prince. The rumours spread that he had been a beauty as a babe, with the face of an angel. The paintings of the royals were all residing in this room, but covering the walls and hanging from the ceiling; protruding over every inch of the room, except the path kept for communicators to walk, were what the young Prince called murmurers. Enchanted plants, altered and mutated into almost life-forms. Stuck between living and dead, the beings -it was said- each posessed a minute fraction of the Prince's soul, making them shadows of the man and thus each would carry forth to his command. They would be his eyes and ears. They would protect him from the dangers of the world, from the unpurified land that surrounded him.

By chance Cedric looked up.

A child.

A boy.

Taking in his surroundings with large solumn eyes, before he began struggling to stand. He looked as though he were having some kind of seizure as panic crossed his face. Cedric was lost for words. How had such a boy entered the grounds, never mind the room, when still the murmurers did not react?

"Guards!"

Finally the boy took note, startling green eyes flashed with anger when they reached Cedric, who strode toward him fearcly.

"Calling an alarm?" The voices of the murmurers were filled with mirth, and it took Cedric a minute to recompose hisself from the state of panic he was approaching. The boy was whispering, mumbling below his breath.

"Speak up boy."

"Boy? Cedric, you know better than to disrespect. Or are you simply indulging into madness?" Cedric gawked. The child was in sync. He spoke the words as did the murmurers. Whats more, the child appeared appaled by this fact. Realization of himself was sending the young male into a fit of panic.

"Don't murmur boy."

Cedric could only watch then, as the boy found his stamina quite suddenly, backing against the wall and agiley crossing, over and around the weeding surroundings of Prince Phobos' emissaries. It was then, and only then, that the spies began wailing.

"Attack on the castle! The Garden is incomplete! One is missing!"

But Cedric had only seen one leave. Bare and exposed; unable to hide anything to take.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Cedric, Lord of Meridian and Prince Phobos' second hand poured the enchanted sands of Escanor over his crystal orb - a mere vase to the human eye, but the Lord better knew that the orb was a source of communication between himself and the prince. A much prefered communication to that of the murmurers; he did not trust the unnatural beings. Surrounding him as they did. If another were to arouse, it would only have to reach him from behind to slit his throat. And there was no question of whether it would be quiet enough. Placidity was their duty. No, Cedric much prefered the solid walls surrounding him now. High rising shelves of books, encasing the stories of the world. Some held knowledge, others imagination. The Fictional books of this planet exposed the neglegence and ignorance that mortal human's carried. In this realm, magic was oversighted as myth and the idea was simply brushed under the cupboards with the dust. Cedric was masterly here. He liked that.

"Lord Cedric, I am becoming impatient for good news." Cedric bowed to the paragon glass as image swirled into veiw of his Prince's face. Cedric daren't look, forbid he do so and be punished, though the image of his master remained in his mind.

"I have found an inversion point between Meridian and this Earth bookstore. The store will provide a perfect cover during the search for the girl."

"Good." Cedric allowed the corners of his mouth to rise as he suspected his young master would be. "Once she is found, we must allure her with care. She is a butterfly and we must hold the net steady until she is close enough to be aprehended."

...

Irma Lair scribbled ferrociously on her paper as her Religious Study teacher, Mr Pudington rambled on, muttering more ums, and ahhs than he did actual words to his sentences. She glanced up from her, rather acurate half-monkey type doodle of him to see that he was at that moment using his tie to clean the blackboard. It was a shame she was almost done; a drawing of his current state would be far more entertaining. She would consider turning over to a new page to start, but then she feared it may seem to onlooking students as though she were actually taking notes. That was never a good thing, especially not in a lesson where in an hour she could be ahead of the teacher by writing not even a complete coherent sentence.

"You'll find, you appreciate the, uhh, time you've, amm, spent, ah, studying the uhh, err, the um.."

"The origins of myth!" Irma cracked a smile at her friend Hay Lin, holding up the paper and twisting it from one diagonal to the other; making Mr Pudington dance, while Taranee Cook held her hand up, answering Mr Pudington without him having to ask a question.

"YES! Thank you." Mr Pudington clapped his hands together, forming a cloud of chalky dust and causing him to cough a few times. Irma sniggered and Hay Lin palmed her own hand as the class tried not to laugh. He was more airheaded than the chinese girl herself. "Now," He fumbled about in his bag before carelessly extracting a wad of unruley papers, "Your mid-term essays!"

The class could no longer contain themselves, erupting as the papers flew from Mr Pudington's hands and across the floor. The laughter of few pupils at the front became significantly louder as the man began uttering replacements for cursing while he scrabbled about the room, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled to each new sheet of work, often tearing the papers, causing another 'replacement curse' to fall from the man's mouth.

"Some of you," He bit his lip as a sheet tore clear in half, "Performed better that I expected, while others, erm, ahh, failed to perform at all.." Irma's face fell as Mr Pudington approached, wincing with every step he took. She turned to Hay Lin with a face of pure panic, only finding herself looking at the same expression.

"I lost conciousness somewhere around Zeus' third wife!" Irma bleated anxiously, while Mr P. sifted through the papers. He pushed the sheet into Irma's hand and she stared at it blankly. Or more importantly, she stared at the grade. "Are you sure this is mine?"

Mr Pudington raised a curious eyebrow at Irma as she studied the sheet, the room silent with apprehension. What Irma was graded was usually standpoint for the lowest grade you might have gotten, so the pupils were all ears.

"It's my terrible handwriting.. I got a B?" Irma beamed up at the man, and unnoticed to herself, the room seemed to sigh simultaneously. "That means I can get a D on the next one and still pass!"

Mr Pudington rolled his eyes, handing Hay Lin her essay. The girl lit up almost as much as Irma had, "No way! Me too!" She held out her hand for Irma to five with her own, Michael Jackson milking it; "Ow!"

Mr Pudington further moved through the class, being followed by a string of cheers until he reached Taranee's desk. "Taranee. See me after class." The girl's dark skin paled and her jaw dropped.

...

"Oh, oh I don't know! What do you recommend?" Caleb looked down at the man he was servicing at the Silver Dragon restaurant, his peircing green eyes bore into the poor man like a dagger into flesh.

"That you hurry up. I've got other customers." It was bad enough that he had to put up with four clueless girls, plus one who'd probably bite, but now Caleb was stood, wearing a short white apron around his waist, serving apparently the inhabbitants of Earth. These people strode in, claiming to be hungry, and demanding superiority of him, when not one of them deserved it. These people were idiots.

"Excuse me sir, my wife asked for water with no ice?" Caleb couldn't stand it here. It was bright. It was warm. And everywhere he went, the air seemed thick enough to choke in. This was not tolerable, even for his standards.

Caleb took a breath before he turned his head, and yet when he spoke the words remained curt, "Then tell her to wait until it melts! You people wouldn't last a day in Meridian." He turned back to his current 'customer' and scowled as the man reread his menu for the third time since he'd arrived at the table.

"What's the szechuan chicken taste like?" Caleb growled, slamming his notepad against the table and walking away. These people weren't even literate of their own language! 'What's it taste like'! Caleb ought to cut out the man's tongue before telling him it wouldn't matter what it tasted like. In the rebellion a complaint or question like these would cost a weeks rations!

Caleb picked up a plate of the offending dish from another table, slamming it down alongside his notepad. "It's like this, but there's more of it. It tastes like chicken." Caleb watched the man's jaw drop as Yan Lin approached him.

"Escuse me, excuse me. Ahh, Caleb!" She gave the customer a polite wave, taking Caleb by the arm and leading him toward the back. "I think we can spare you from up front for a few minutes!"

"Suits me." Caleb took his apron off with a single tug to the strap and sneered, "Are they always like this?" The woman stared after the boy with narrow eyes for a moment before following behind.

Doing some research this morning and as a shadow of Phobos, I want Caleb to have similarities, so I'm giving him very slight psychopathic tendancies - VERY slight as in like at first Caleb has trouble recognising the wrong in certain people suffering and he can't recognise the boundaries of what's appropriate or not until he has been told (as Aldarn told Caleb about touching women's lips).