"Master, I have good news and bad news."
"Damn it! What time do you think it is? Don't start repeating those terrible jokes the foreigners tell, where the 'good news and bad news' turn out to be two pieces of bad news! If you found something, spit it out! We still have to get moving once you're done."
The Grand Astrologer Bohr was already in a foul mood. Hearing his disciple play the good-news-bad-news game only made him angrier. He snapped at him, but the force of the movement tugged at his wound, and his mouth twitched with pain.
Seeing their master bleed again, a crowd of grimy goatfolk apprentices immediately rushed over and scrambled to stop the bleeding.
The senior disciple who had gone to scout for news didn't dare waste another word and hurriedly said:
"The cursecasters pursuing us have been whittled down to one group. The others seem to have given up the chase. But the bad news is, the ones still after us are the direct hunters of Department VII—a group of troublesome curse-warriors.
"We're almost two hundred kilometers from Abyssal City, but they still aren't giving up. Looks like they really will chase us to the death.
"You need to make a decision, sir.
"We've been fighting for these dragon eggs for two days, and everyone's exhausted."
"Quit nagging! What are you nagging for? Trying to nag me to death?"
Bohr grew even more impatient.
He snapped:
"They're just a bunch of curse-warriors. Look at the state of you! You weren't this scared when we faced the gnolls during the Black Calamity."
"That was different, Master. We had reinforcements against the gnolls. Now we're fighting alone."
Bohr's second disciple complained under his breath as he bandaged his master:
"And all these dragon eggs have been