The morning light was pale and cold when Doran burst into the room, his voice loud enough to wake the dead.
"Rise and shine, you two! Hastur, remember our talk about that scientist?"
Still half-asleep, Hastur rubbed his eyes.
"Yes… did you hear from him?"
"Exactly!" Doran said with a grin. "I sent him a letter about you yesterday, and the same day he replied. He wants to meet you as soon as possible! That's why we're all going to visit him today."
Ban, still drowsy, muttered from his bed,
"And what do I have to do with that…?"
Doran's fist landed squarely on his head.
"You? You're coming because that very same scientist ordered three sacks of potatoes! We have to make a living, my boy!" he said with an amused smirk.
"Now, load the sacks onto the cart. We don't have all day!"
---
After they finished packing, Doran clapped his hands.
"Wait here, I'll bring the mount."
Hastur frowned.
"Wait—since I've been here, I've never seen a single horse around."
Ban chuckled.
"Who said anything about a horse?"
Moments later, Doran came back, both hands cupped together as if hiding a treasure. His grin stretched from ear to ear.
"Behold! The mystical mount of Leonard Slave Doran!"
He opened his hands to reveal… a tiny insect.
"A bug?" Hastur blurted out, stunned.
"Mind your manners, young man," Doran replied solemnly. "He's a scarab! His name is Hercules. Far better than a hundred horses—watch this."
He tied the cart's harness to the beetle's horn. With a sharp whistle, Hercules began to move.
To Hastur's amazement, the tiny creature pulled the heavy cart without the slightest effort.
---
The three of them climbed aboard. The journey began smoothly, the Theatre's strange landscape rolling by in endless repetition. Hills, fields, clouds—each one identical to the last, as if painted from a single brushstroke.
After a while, the path to the Hill of Alenver appeared in the distance, bathed in mist. Doran pointed ahead.
"We're almost there."
Hastur gazed dreamily upward. At the summit stood a strange structure—an observatory, half-swallowed by clouds.
But as they approached, something strange happened.
"The hill… wasn't this short a moment ago?" Hastur asked, blinking.
Doran nodded calmly.
"That's the Hill of Alenver. It never shows its true height. One moment it's small, the next—it towers above the heavens."
Before Hastur could answer, a massive hand burst from the ground and smashed the cart's wheel into pieces.