For Sven, breakfast wasn't breakfast without the Shayol Ghul Gazette. This essential magazine was the highlight of his mornings, and at times it had been the only thing that made him get out of bed. Now, however, Sven hadn't received the Gazette in weeks. He sighed. The coffee didn't taste like coffee without the Gazette. He looked through his mail: Uno was still writing on the Newbie Academy story. A decent enough story, but it couldn't be compared to what he yearned for; The Shayol Ghul Gazette.
Suddenly his house shook. What could it be? A horde of Trollocs trying to get in? Sven grabbed a frying pan and walked cautiously to the door. He opened it with his left hand; with his right hand he held the frying pan ready to hit any attacker over the head. He lowered the pan once he saw who it was. Layla. He had never seen her this upset before, though.
Layla didn't waste any time on pleasantries. She virtually shook with nervousness. "Have you gotten the Gazette?" Sven shook his head. "I haven't seen a number in weeks," he said. "And frankly I can't take it much longer." Layla almost collapsed in a heap on the floor. "I need the Gazette," she panted. Even Sven was surprised. He thought he was addicted to the Gazette. What would the rest of the Chosen be like?
After her third pint of coffee, Layla was a bit calmer. She was seated at the breakfast table opposite Sven. "Listen, Layla," Sven began, "we could contact Uno about this. He is supposed to be the editor, after all." Layla shook her head. "Uno is just the editor in name. A figurehead. He only holds the office because he founded the magazine. Spidy does all the work. Without Spidy, there wouldn't be a Shayol Ghul Gazette."
This was news to Sven. So, His Webiness ran the show, eh? Perhaps it was time someone had a word or two with Spidy.
"Spidy?" John Snow said as he stuffed his pipe with tobacco. He had taken out a tin of his favourite brand; he could afford that when Uno wasn't around. "Yes," Sven replied. "Spidy. We need to get hold of Spidy and find out why the Gazette hasn't come out in such a long while." John Snow lit his pipe with a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Spidy has never been an easy man to get hold of, you know." John Snow looked lost in thought. "I have been working on this theory," he said, and went on with a long lecture about grave smells. Sven sighed. He and Layla would have to look elsewhere for ideas.
DT gave Sven a lazy look. “So let me get this straight,” he said putting his feet insolently on Sven’s coffee table, “you want me to steal Spidy’s beer?” Sven nodded impatiently. “Yes, that is the only way we can make him start working on the Gazette again. When his beer is in jeopardy, I’m sure he’ll agree to anything.” DT shifted in his chair, or rather Sven’t chair; his favourite too. “I’m not sure,” he said finally. “I’ve have projects of my own going on at the moment.” Layla shrugged and turned to Sven. “Perhaps DT isn’t up to it. Perhaps a lazy old arachnid is too much for him to handle?”
DT’s reaction was the one they had expected. “You know very well that I can steal anything,” he said. “There is one matter I’d like to have resolved, though; do I get to drink the beer?” Layla slapped her forehead. “Stupid Thief! That’s the whole idea with the plan! We’re keeping the beer hostage until Spidy releases the next issue of the Gazette.” DT gave her a flat look. “Then what’s in it for me?”
“Can’t we pay you money?” Sven suggested. “With money, you can buy your own beer.” DT shook his head. “Money is no good. You know very well that I’m not old enough to buy beer myself.” Sven sighed. So much for this plan. How were they going to get the Gazette up and running?
