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Time 15:06

The second request on the notice board belonged to Jay. It read, “Super-secret hush-hush mission for the brave of heart only.”

Chalon had read such a post before, and most of his folk tended to avoid any of Jay’s request. Jay had a habit of biting more than he could chew, Chalon usually helped him out when nobody else seemed willing to do so. He walked a bit through the cooking fires and eventually he found Jay’s little trailer he shared with his sister. Kay was waiting outside for Chalon. She took his hand and drew him nearer. Using her other hand, she whispered into Chalon’s ears, “Turn back.”

Without giving any further explanation, Kay left Chalon to ponder on the mystery of her warning. Before he could decide, the door opened behind him and he felt the strong hand of Jay on his shoulder. With a gleaming smile of his perfectly brushed, crooked teeth, Jay said, “Chalon! You are just the man I was looking for!”

Chalon was about to write a response, but Jay interrupted him by saying, “Come on. Let’s go. We haven’t any time to waste.”

Chalon started following Jay back into town. Since Chalon had already been seen entering the town once, the guards allowed him to enter quickly without doing the line. Jay visited the town quite often, so he was also a familiar face. While he power walked behind Jay, Chalon tried to surmise where he was going.

He noticed that Jay was being quite deliberate with his thoughts. They went around the lines of this: Chalon I know you can read my mind, but if I let my body do the walking you won’t be able to guess where I want us to go before it is too late. Just keep walking, don’t think of anything… was it to the left, no wait I recognize those flowers. It is this way I suppose, were was I going again… I could use a little bit of cinnamon. Cookies and cream. Petals and mustard. White horses. Green unicorns… I know you can read my mind….

Chalon by now was in a dour mood. He was half tempted to abandoning Jay to his own devices. Based on previous observations, Chalon knew that Jay frequented the brothels. If he was acting so suspicious, he probably wanted to visit a shady establishment. Chalon stopped walking after he came to this conclusion. Jay was already halfway down a block when he noticed Chalon walking back to camp. Jay ran after him and said, “Where are you going?”

Chalon wrote, “I am not in the mood to be your wingman.”

“Wingman? What are you talking about?” asked Jay somewhat confused.

“A wingman is a guy friend who helps you pick up ladies,” explained Chalon.

“I do not need help in that department. No, I am not after ladies. I was just a little bit curious about a certain place and I wanted to check it out as all,” said Jay somewhat evasive.

“You want to see the Workhouse,” guessed Chalon.

“Reading my mind again, I see. Can you guess what I am thinking about now?” asked Jay.

“No, I just guessed as all,” wrote Chalon on his board.

“But don’t you want to see what it is like?” insisted Jay.

“I already know,” wrote Chalon.

“Do you now?” said Jay incredulous.

“Yes, and I am not interested,” wrote Chalon.

“Well, if you truly are familiar with the place, then more the reason for you to come with me,” insisted Jay.

Chalon did not bother to write a response. Instead he started to walk away. He was detained by Jay, who grabbed his shoulder and started yacking him towards were the Workhouse. Chalon pressed his feet down but was still dragged. Eventually, he found a post to which he anchored himself. Using basic telekinesis, he wrote on his board the word: HELP!

He then threw it to a passing guard on the other side of the road. The board smacked the guard on the head. It was a good thing he was wearing his helmet. A bit confused he looked around, till he saw Chalon and Jay across the street. There was already a small group of children watching Jay making a scene. Meanwhile, Chalon was rooted on the spot.

Jay in a hushed voice said, “You are making a scene! Stop being such a big baby and come with me.”

In response, Chalon arched his freehand around the pole for a stronger grip. The guard eventually said, “Hey you! What are you doing!”

“Nothing officer,” said Jay, “I am just taking my brother to the healer for his medication, but he is being a little bit difficult today.”

The guard looked at Chalon and then to Jay. He noted that both were gypsies. The guard was no fool. He knew that gypsies tended to use their own healers. The guard eventually whipped Jay’s hand to force him to release Chalon. Looking sternly at Jay he said, “Go on about your business sir.”

“This has nothing to do with you old man,” remarked Jay, “Walk away.”

Using his telepathy, Chalon said to Jay, “No, you walk away, Jay. And this is the last time I will do anything for you.”

Since Jay had a pint of magic, he was not able to hear the thoughts Chalon had sent to him. Still, he could feel the malice festering inside Chalon. In the end, he decided not to push things any further. Jay left by himself, not giving a second glance to his adopted cousin. Chalon rubbed his shoulder till the pain went away. He then arced it around a bit, with is other hand till the robes noted the damage. The douche had dislocated Chalon’s shoulder. Despite his years, Jay had not changed much. He always wanted people to do as he desired. It was for this inflexibility that very few people bothered to even hear him out when he needed something.

As for the helpful guard, he was indeed an old fellow. His name was Robert Trimble. He never knew his blood parents. He was bought as a slave by La Imperia, when he was 7. During his time as a servant boy, his learning opportunities were limited. When he turned 12, he was given his freedom and he was made a pageboy for a knight. From there, he rose to the position of guard, which he kept till his ripe old age of 54. Robert was not a man of much ambition. He could have held a political office as an advisor for the Court of Sassari, but he always declined the position whenever it was offered. Despite not having an official office, he was often privately consulted on matters regarding the affairs of the State. His opinions were rarely radical, and often levelheaded and well thought out. At the moment, he was the best paid guard in the city. He lived in a small house facing the artificial forest of the Pavilions. He shared the home with his wife, Clotilde, and his youngest son Robbie.

All his other children had left long ago, in search of great opportunities. For their ambitions, they had all shared the same fate. Now, Robbie was all Robert had left. Robbie was a mute like Chalon. It was part of the reason why Robert had decided to intervene on Chalon’s behalf. While Chalon chose not to speak, Robbie could not even if he wanted to. His parents had a genetic predisposition for muteness, and thus Robbie won the bad lottery. We have done our best to provide the best stock of genes for our local humans, but given enough time bad mutations are bound to occur. Drinking and smoking also helps to produce malformities.

Anyhow, Robert handed Chalon his little chalkboard. He rose his helmet to take a better look at our fellow. The way Chalon was dressed reminded Robert of the magic users he saw in the picture books. Still, most of the magical visitors that had ever graced the Pavilions of Sassari wore normal people clothing. It was for this reason he thought that Chalon was pretending to be a magic user to keep people away.

Chalon took his little board and he scribbled the word, “Thank You.”

“No need citizen. As an officer of the law, it is my duty to maintain peace within the hold,” said Robert lowering his helmet before returning to his patrol.

Guard in Sassari acted like police officers. This left the knights free to hone their skills in the art of war. It wasn’t often that there was such a separation within the holds. Both forces were usually fussed into one. This set Sassari apart from the other cities and holds. When Chalon was finally left alone, he breathed in a sigh of relief. He ran back to the camp in order to avoid running into Jay in the city. When Kay saw him returning to camp with a dour look, she grinned. She came to walk beside him.

“How did it go?” she asked.

Chalon did not bother to write anything. He came to stand before the notice board. Some of the other requests had already been addressed. It was down to just a couple of fetch quests in the city, and a simple escort mission. Before he could decide, Kay came up to the board and removed the fetch quests. She started making her way toward the city. It had been quite the slow afternoon indeed. In just about a couple of hours, it would be sunset. He took the paper with the escort mission, and he made his way towards Jean. Jean was the oldest human member of the caravan. She was about 175, but she looked like she was 70. The stock of humans in this world tend to last a little longer. Ever since the age of 5, she had always gone to temple once a week. Since she was starting to become feeble, she had decided that an escort was necessary for protection on her visits to the temple.

Chalon found her inside her little cozy, trailer. She shared this trailer with Harold. She was not related to him, but he always saw her like his grandmother. She was respected and a revered. Chalon knocked softly on the door. He waited a moment before going inside. Shaun was just about finish dressing Jean. He had tied the little bonnet and had fixed the spectacles on Jean’s face. Jean’s hair was short, of a pure silver color. She wore a lady attire, with the petticoats, the laces, and the shawls. To create a contrast with the dress, the buttons, the brooches and laces were yellow. The bonnet had an elegant, ornamental silk rose. It was so lifelike, that many people believed it to be a real rose. With some effort, Jean rose from her seat supporting herself on her cane. The handle of the cane was smooth. Beyond the handle it had an intricate carving made of silver. It was 5 centimeters in length. The carving featured a little gecko with its eyes fixed straight ahead and its mouth partway open, as if ready to strike up a meal.

Chalon handed Lady Jean his elbow, and she took it for added support. Slowly, they made their way out of the trailer. While he walked, Chalon pondered how long this walk was going to take. After analyzing the walking speed of Lady Jean, he figured it would take about an hour to make it to the temple and another one for the return trip. This was assuming that nothing would occur to hamper their progress. As soon as they were out of the camp, Lady Jean’s bony hand clawed deeper into Chalon’s sleeve. She drew a little closer and she started looking about at any unfamiliar face that passed by. She flinched a little when a stray dog came a bit too close to sniff her dress. In her younger years, she would have kicked that dog away. Now, she had to force herself to ignore it to continue on her way. Chalon did look at the stray and he compelled it to go move away from him. Not with his mind, no. Dogs are pretty intuitive, and they can tell when they are not wanted.

By now, the pair was just outside the main gate. As before, Chalon skipped through the line. The guards had already seen him come in and out several times this morning. Since he had permission to enter, nobody bothered to question him or to delay his entry into the city. Robert, who was by the gates, commented to one of his mates as he saw Chalon passing by, “What a nice young man to be escorting his grandma to temple.”

“How can you tell they are going to temple?” asked the other guard.

“Most ladies her age only leave the comfort of their home when they are going to temple,” explained Robert.

“Is it because they fear their own mortality?” asked the guard.

“Who knows? I will tell you all about it when I get to that age myself,” said Robert.

“If I am lucky, I will find the answer to my question, myself,” said the guard.

“Yes, if we are lucky,” said Robert sternly.

Chalon was quiet during this exchange. Lady Jean did not say a word either. Once she was through the gates she breathed in a sigh of relief. After taking a couple of steps, she said, “Get me some water boy.”

Chalon produced a skin of water from his sleeve. He the acquired a little glass which he used to pour Lady Jean her water. Jean drank it with gusto, and then she said, “Let us continue.”

The pair walked a couple of minutes, Jean said again, “Get me some water boy.”

Chalon did as he was asked once again. She smiled after drinking her nice glass of cool water. A nearby urchin passed by. He was inclined to take one of the shiny buttons, but he stopped when he noted the color of the dress. He too was wearing white clothing. In this world, white was the color of mourning.

Lady Jean asked Chalon, “How goes your education?”

“I don’t go to school,” wrote Chalon. He held the board close to Jean’s face so she could read it.

Jean pushed it aside and said, “I am not blind. And you still have your tongue. Use your words, boy!”

Chalon shook his head to illustrate his desire not to use his words.

Lady Jean then said more to herself, “What fancies of the children of today. I would have imagined you would have outgrown such a stubborn streak by now. Or are you afraid?”

“A little,” wrote Chalon. He erased this message after showing it to Lady Jean. He then added, “But it has nothing to do with my mutism.”

After writing this, Lady Jean putted a stop to her idle chatter for a bit. Her eyes lingered on the flowers adorning the sidewalks. The sounds of the horses stepping on the cobblestones were quite pleasing to her. Still, she imagined that it was somewhat bothersome for the people not used to them. Chalon and Lady Jean observed a new resident throwing wicker into the streets to tone down the sound. At the sight of this pollution, one of the guards came to the person to reprimand the fellow for ruining the aesthetics of the street. There was not a local ordinance restricting such measures. Still, the guard lived nearby, and he specifically minded anything that he considered trash near his home.

Lady Jean commented, “Not a rat in sight.”

“They mainly come out at night,” wrote Chalon on his board.

“I am not talking about the people, but the rodents,” specified Lady Jean.

“Mmm. You are right,” wrote Chalon. Chalon erased this message and then wrote, “Rats are not the worst thing out there. Mosquitoes are even worse.”

“Mosquitoes you say. You mean those little blood sucking parasites?” asked Lady Jean.

Chalon nodded in response.

“They are a bit of a nuisance, but nobody dies from a bit of itching,” said Lady Jean.

Not anymore, thought Chalon.

Indeed, there was a big debate during the terraforming period of Saturnastra. In the end, it was decided not to include the vectors that mosquitoes normally transferred. Now aside from a little blood loss, mosquitoes are nothing more than a nuisance. I don’t care that they help pollinate the blunt bog orchids. If you ask me, they should not have been included in the roster. We can also do without pesky honeybees. There are plenty of other pollinators like bats, flies and butterflies that can pick up the slack.   

After mentioning the mosquitoes, Lady Jean scratched the top of her gloved hand with her index finger. This small motion took a bit of effort, and she nearly lost her balance, for she had taken a step without her walking cane. Chalon did serve her well as a strong physical support.

Lady Jean sighed, before continuing her walk. There were times when she almost allowed herself to forget the years that weighted her down. This loss of energy had started only 3 years ago. She had been a vibrant spring chicken, but one day people around her started doing things for her. The trigger had been the sudden death Grimoire. Despite being 10 years younger than her, he had been done in by a simple fall. The poor bastard had drowned in his own blood, it had taken 2 hours to find his body. Ever since then, the people in the caravan had started to mind their elderly.

Lady Jean had never asked for help or a special treatment. Though after a while, she got used to it and eventually she grew to expect it. While she walked, she saw a little blonde girl playing with a hoop and a stick. She was chasing the hoop down all along the street. Her little game was drawn short when a fellow tripped over the hoop.

Annoyed, the fellow got up and went to give the girl a good thrashing. At least, this was the intention that Chalon sensed from the man. The girl looking about came to hide behind Lady Jean and Chalon. Bellowing, the man said, “You little imp! I am going to kill you.”

Lady Jean said flatly, “Murder is illegal last time I checked.”

“Move grandma,” said the man. He made a motion to push Lady Jean out of the way.

With a swiftness that Lady Jean had long forgotten she had, she opened her walking cane and she sliced the arm of the man. Her hidden sword was about 20 centimeters long. It was light and wobbly, and built like a razor. It would not make a dent in armor, but it could slice easily through flesh. The little girl grasped at the sight of so much blood. Due to the proximity, Lady Jean’s white dress got splattered on the chest, skirt and hat. The man held his hand and wrist. Chalon removed the ribbon from Lady Jean’s bonnet, and he created a tourniquet around the man’s hand.

Chalon opened his mouth to say something witty but remembering his silence fancy he chose to not say anything. The man ran towards the nearest gross clinic to get his hand mended. Lady Jean had a content smile on her face. Turning to the little girl, she petted her head and said, “Run along now, you dear, and be careful were you chose to play.”

“I.. ah I will mam,” said the little girl giving a curtsey before running away. The old woman held her cane in her hand and then for the first time in a long time, she used only her two feet to walk forward. She gave a hesitant step, and then another. Soon she was at an even steady pace.

As soon as Chalon and Lady Jean turned a corner, the little girl from before started stalking them. There was a mischievous look in her face. Slowly, little by little her little mind worked. It was then when she spotted an easier opportunity and she left Chalon and Lady Jean go unharmed from her block. The pair stopped a moment to tend to the messy situation. Chalon acquired a different, identical hat for Lady Jean. As for the dress, he cleaned it as best he could. In the end, he placed a decorative over dress to hide the blood.

While he helped her, Lady Jean said to Chalon, “You noticed her too?”

Chalon nodded in response.

“What a naughty little imp,” said Lady Jean.

Chalon said nothing. He only nodded his head in agreement with her.

When this task was concluded, the pair continued their walk.

Lady Jean stopped a moment, and then said pointing to the left and the right road, “Was it this way? Or that way?”

Chalon shrugged his shoulders in response. He then wrote, “Which temple do you want to visit?”

“I wish to visit the Goddess of Old Age,” said Lady Jean.

“There are no temples for such a goddess,” wrote Chalon.

“Is there now, but I went to it last week with Kay,” said Lady Jean.

Chalon rattled his memory and then eventually the Ultimate Weapon told him the answer he was seeking. We only know of the basic attributes of the polar Gods, but they are not one trick ponies. Ortisa, aside from being the Goddess of the Earth, by Earth I mean dirt; she was also  associated with old age. This was in part due to the wrinkles the ground obtained whenever there was drought.

Chalon then wrote, “The Temple of Ortisa is that way.”

He also added to his instructions an arrow pointing to the left. This required crossing a busy street. There were no lights or post to allow pedestrians to cross the roads. Many a time one had to wait till two carriage drivers had the decency to let you pass. This could either occur quickly or take at least 10 minutes. It was at this juncture that Lady Jean took Chalon’s arm for support. Since it was a couple of hours before dusk, the street was pretty busy. There were lots of comings and goings, specially of delivery people bringing in fresh meat from the markets. It was common for brothels to hold banquets at night. After waiting for 7 minutes, two carriages finally stopped to allow Chalon and Lady Jean to pass. One of them gestured with his whip. With as much speed as Lady Jean could muster they crossed the busy road. On the last step that led back into the sidewalk, Lady Jean’s heal got stuck in one of the stones a bit and she fell to the side. She would have smacked her head against the wheel of a passing carriage if Chalon had not supported her with both his arms.

Lady Jean grasped her chest for air, from the fright. Chalon left her standing erect, and he came to fetch her cane that had fallen to the ground. She took a couple of steps on her own using it for support. She then commented, “You are quite stout for such a frilly little thing.”

In response, Chalon wrote after handing her the cane, “Does your leg hurt?”

Lady Jean placed her entire support on one feet and her cane. She then wiggled about her feet to check for any unusual pains. She did the same thing with her other feet. She then said, “Nothing hurts.”

Chalon shook his head sadly, for reasons that Lady Jean could not understand. She thought that he pitied her, and she found him quite detestable for that reason. As for Chalon, this dour expression had been triggered by something else he had seen. On the road, he noted a squished little frog. It reminded him of one of his mother’s early memories. It was not too common for people like him to show an interest on memories relating to their past humanity. It had been so long for many and given enough generations many no longer considered themselves to be human. Chalon chose to remember this truth. This allowed him to empathize with the locals, and even at times forget his true nature.

As for the frog, I am quite familiar with that particular memory. Chalon’s mother was in school and one day a brat brought a frog. It escaped and hopped a little across the road. It was eventually run over by a bike. She cannot remember what or if she felt anything at all. It is common that our people develop a disassociation with the past. They see the images, and remember the events clearly, but the thoughts and the emotions of that time do not make an impression. Such is the nature of most memories that existed before the creation of the Ultimate Weapon.

Lady Jean eventually did notice where Chalon was looking at. He had the same dour expression he wore whenever he could not revive a fellow. She then said, “It is just a frog. Let’s go.”

Chalon left her alone and entered traffic. A carriage did a force stop unseating the passenger, but not the driver. The passenger opened the door and asked, “What is the hold up?”

The driver said nothing. He only pointed to the weirdo dressed like a mage in the middle of the road. The passenger frowning said getting back inside the carriage, “Well, you should have run him over. We could do with less of their kind on the street.”

“Murder is still a crime in this city,” said the driver flatly.

“I suppose,” he then said to Chalon through the window, “Move weirdo!”

Chalon chose to be oblivious to all his surroundings. He drew a handkerchief from under his arm. He then placed it over the dead frog. He then punched the ground over the handkerchief. When he lifter the cloth, the frog was no longer there. Some of the people waiting to cross thought it was show, and so they lingered to see were this was all going. A girl carrying eggs was among them. Chalon came to her and took one of her eggs. He then placed the handkerchief over it. He then smashed it against his face. When the handkerchief looked all yellow, and gooey, Chalon rolled it up into a ball. When the handkerchief was nice and round, he opened it again, and inside was the intact egg. He handed the egg to the girl. He then wrote to her, “Open it.”

The girl did not know how to read and was too embarrassed to admit it. Reading her mind on this matter, Chalon opened the egg and inside was the frog that was alive and well. The people clapped, thinking it was an elaborate trick. Some threw coins on Chalon’s feet. The carriage driver and the passenger lingered a little more to make certain that Chalon did not have anything else up his sleeve. When they saw the crowd dispersing, the carriage continued on its way. As for the frog, Chalon helped it cross the street. He left it in its destination, the gardens of the Pavilion.

One of the guards who was patrolling rose an eyebrow but did not do anything to hinder Chalon. With this pertinence taken care of, Chalon went to join Lady Jean. He offered her his arm. Pointing with her cane, she said gesturing to the coins, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Chalon looked at the coins on the floor with disdain. Ideally, he was not the type of fellow who sought to make a profit out of corpses. Still, he did like money, in whatever form it came. And so, he bent over and picked up the scant coins one by one. The little egg girl too was doing that, behind Chalon’s back. She blushed when she noticed Lady Jean starring daggers at her. In the end, her desire for a scant profit won her over. She left with a handful of coins that rightfully belonged to Chalon.

After concluding this annoying little task, Chalon rejoined Jean on their little trip to Temple. They were only a block away from their destination. Lady Jean said while they walked, “You should have said something to that little girl.”

In response, Chalon squished his lips with his index and thumb to illustrate that he did not wish to speak. Lady Jean added, “It is because she did not read that you should have used your voice. You aren’t going to find literate people everywhere in the world. One day, you are going to be in a position where you are forced to speak.”

In response to this statement, Chalon drew a picture of two people crossing a bridge. Lady Jean was not familiar with the bridge crossing saying. Still, she imagined she understood what the picture meant. She thought that what Chalon had meant to say was that if he could not use written words, he could just draw a picture and hope for the best. The pair walked slowly. Even slower was the pace of a prospective pickpocket. As was the tradition of the day, the fellow bumped into Chalon. Instead of saying, “Sorry, or watch were you are going”, the fellow gave a yelp of pain.

An expression of glee was painted on Chalon’s face, meanwhile Lady Jean laughed heartily. Another pickpocket had fallen for the irresistible lure. The fellow left somewhat confused, rubbing his stinging hand. The laughter of Lady Jean turned into a two hoarse coughs.  Clearing her throat, she commented, “There are certainly a lot of pickpockets here.”

“Just the average amount,” wrote Chalon.

Based on statistics, for every 250 citizens, there is at least 1 criminal. There are some regional variants, both overall this is the average rate found in most large cities and towns. The flavor of the crime is usually petty thievery. Some are even perpetrated by people who can easily afford the stolen goods. Those found out are usually killed in the act. Of most criminals, only a quarter make it to prison. Even fewer manage to survive their sentences. Criminal punishment in this world usually involved either dungeons, forced labor camps or torture chambers. The lucky ones usually got a small dosage of public humiliation. Sassari was one of the few holds who did not work their prisoner population to death. La Imperia was naïve in so much as she believe that she could reform evil doers and make them useful members of society once again. The Workhouse was just one of her pet projects in this department.

The reason behind this was that her best friend growing up was a servant boy; he got worked to death for stealing a pair of shoes from her. This incident stayed with her the rest of her life. And so, she worked strongly to reform the justice system of the Kingdom. She believed that the punishment should match the nature of the crimes, and it should not be arbitrarily cruel to the poor, and easy for the rich. And so, she codified the justice system in her hold, with punishment calibrated based on the severity of the crime.

This has nothing to do with Chalon. So, let us move on with the rest of the pertinent information. Chalon and Lady Jean were finally standing before the temple. Temple tradition varied from city to city. Here, they were humbler structures, surrounded by gardens. This one was spherical shaped. From the oculus of the perfect dome, there arose a giant Jacaranda mimosifolia. The tree at the moment was flowering some gorgeous purple bell flowers. The grounds around the main body of the temple were littered with those flowers. Since this was a temple to the Goddess of the Earth, it made sense that examples of her bounty could be found all over the temple grounds. The temple itself was two stories high, with the main living apartments on the second floor. On the bottom floor, there was the place for worship. One offered prayer to Ortisa by bringing with you a live plant. The size of it did not matter, only the vigor. If it grew in the gardens, it meant your offering had been accepted.

In the old days, they used to do the traditional animal sacrifices. As of lately, blood sacrifices were slowly being retired. Some sects had gotten a bit more thematic as far as offerings were concerned. At the moment, the temple was just open to prayers. The rituals of Ortisa usually took place during the winter months. They were designed to pray for a bountiful harvest for next year.

The first floor ground was covered with vegetation. There were stone pathways to smaller rooms. Inside each room, there was a chair and a little fountain for meditation purposes. The second floor was held up by thin columns that branched upwards, like the hands of a tree. Some of them had climbing vines like bougainvillea, campsis, coral honeysuckle, Hyacinth bean, and a healthy variety of Clematis.

During certain humid nights, the gardens in the temple would become aglow with green lights. A colony of some 100,000 fireflies had taken up residence there. It had started with a donated plant that had about 20 fireflies. About 16 were females and 4 were males. Over the years, their numbers increased till they became quite a spectacle.

The priest currently handling the temple was named Pasiflora. In her formal life, she was a nymph slave who was born on a plantation. Her husband a traveling merchant bought her and made her his wife. The pair eventually fell into this whole religions thing in Sassari. At the moment, Pasiflora was a widower, like Lady Jean. As such, she sported a simple white dress without any adornment. Her ritual staff was a stick with a pinecone. The stick had a red ribbon tied beneath the pinecone. Despite her 79 years of age, she kept a good form. She ran the temple with the help of her eight daughters. She did have a son as well, but he did not care for temple life. Instead he played knight in the Pavilions.  

Lady Jean and Chalon were greeted by one of Pasiflora’s daughter. Her name was Amapola. She was a red head, like her father. She had even teeth, short curly brown hair, tanned skin, and a delicate frame. Using a polite tone, she asked, “Are you here for meditation?”

“Yes,” said Lady Jean.

“We only have a room available at the moment, but you can share if you do not mind the company,” said Amapola.

“I do not mind,” said Lady Jean.

“You are familiar with the current rates, are you not?” asked Amapola.

Chalon handed her a coin pouch. Amapola felt the weight of the pouch over the top but did not open it to look at the coins. The temple made its money through room rentals. The worshipers came there to be alone with their thoughts, but for a price. The rental was always 30 coins. It did not matter if they were gold, silver or copper. Depending on the generosity of the patron, some paid only with golden coins. Still, most of the time people paid with copper. For this Amapola was greatly resentful. Before leading them to the room, Amapola said, “A flower is costumery.”

In response, Chalon reached into his pocket and he brought out a little Astrophytum Asterias. Amapola looked at the tiny plant, and she raised an eyebrow. She had never seen a plant like that before. In the end, she ran to the plant nursery and left it there to deal with it eventually. Cactus and other desert plants were extremely rare. The only desert in the Continent was on the other side of a mountain, cutoff from the rest of the green habitable lands on either side. Its only source of moisture was the mist rising from the ocean. Since it was so inhospitable for human habitation, it was very rare for anything relating to the desert to appear on the Kingdom.

When the girl returned, she had the key to the private meditation room. The rooms were at the other side of the temple, straight ahead from the entrance, past the stone altar, and the tree in the center of the temple. The position of the sun allowed for sunlight to enter through the foliage. Most of the dome roof was hollow. The sun and rain entered through the ornamental roof steel, composed of hollow square panels. Inside of each panel was an interesting, wire floral pattern. Not a single flower was repeated. The roof was quite the experimental architecture. There was no other temple like this in the entire Kingdom. It was frequented often, just because of the architecture, the plants and the good vibe. The room itself had a stone door. To open it, one had to place a large floral shaped crest, into a sunken relief in the center of the door. After turning it to the left 4 times, and then 8 times to the right, the door opened. Those who did pay attention, would have noticed that before turning, the floral crest would stop at a specific number. It acted like one of those traditional dial combination padlocks. The nature of the crest allowed for only 8 numbers. Still, the length of the number of turns helped somewhat to keep people from guessing the combination.

It was rare that a temple arose enough curiosity for doors to be picked. From time to time, the odd thief would venture in to look for some loot. They would always leave empty handed. Something about the way the temple looked at night often spooked them. It was mainly the center tree. It had an unusually thick trunk, and it had a somewhat round hollow. When the wind entered from the roof, it made a dull, groaning sound. At least to me, it sounds like groaning.  Chalon has heard the tree make a sound before, and on the rainy day that he heard it, the tree sounded like the wings of a hummingbird.

Every person of ours who has heard this stupid tree claims that it made a different sound. I did station a fellow once to Observe the tree. Indeed, the acoustics of it were quite varied. Overall, this 571 old tree made 21 different sounds.

After entering the room, the door was closed behind Chalon and Lady Jean. There was a string on the wall. When pulled, Amapola would hear a small bell in the reception room. Each bell rung corresponded to a different room. They were useful for letting her know when people were already bored of meditating. Regardless, she would kick them out after an hour, maybe sooner, depending on the demand. Most people tended to lose track of time inside those rooms. The furniture inside the room was simple. There was a wooden bench, with a cushion, parallel to a fountain. The walls were covered with Parthenocissus quinquefolia, a type of shade creeper. Since the roof of this room was hollow, a bit of shaded sunlight got inside. At the moment, the leaves of the plant were colored red.

As for the wall fountain, it had an intimidating dog faced dragon spewing a steady stream of water onto a basin that overflowed into an ornamental square structure. Chalon looked into the well expecting to see coins or something. He was somewhat disappointed to see nothing within. After helping Lady Jean sit down, he reached into his pocket and he threw a coin into the fountain.

Lady Jean frowning gestured to Chalon to come closer. Taking his writing board, she wrote to him, “Why did you throw that coin?”

In response, Chalon wrote, “Because that is how wishing fountains work.”

“Wishing fountains? Never heard that fountains grant wishes,” wrote Lady Jean.

“Not all fountains grant wishes. And those that do, rarely bother to grant them,” wrote Chalon.

“I see,” wrote Lady Jean. She then returned the board to Chalon to settle down with her own thoughts.

She took the single pillow and placed it at the edge of the bench. She then simmered down, after removing her bonnet. Despite looking rather fancy, Lady Jean’s dress was quite comfortable. Mainly because she did not use a corsage. After a couple of minutes of lying there, Lady Jean started snoring. Chalon grinned, but said nothing. The place indeed was perfect for a good nap. It was a pity that the hostess did not have the decency to set up beds, instead of benches. Heck, even some straw thrown on the floor would have been a welcome relief to weary bones. Chalon looked around the walls a bit. They were easily climbable. Still, he felt that the effort would move the plants a bit too much.

Instead, he gently floated above the room. When he was over it, he pushed himself lightly to the other room to see what the others were up to. The person to the left was also snoring. Meanwhile, the fellow on the right was reading a book. As far as meditation went, Lady Jean’s nearest neighbors were not doing it right. Aside from the rituals, this temple of Ortisa did not have a clear definition as to what constituted meditation. There were never group meditation sessions. And even among the sisters and the mothers, there was a variety of opinions on that matter. The temple had a relaxing vibe and attitude; is the point I am trying to make.

There was one time when a lay follower from another temple had made a big deal about a snoring neighbor. He was not allowed to visit ever again for making a fuss in the meditation room. All in all, negative emotions were discouraged. Since everyone seemed to be in a chilled type of mood, Chalon took a moment to look around the temple.

As he gently flew about, he noticed some birds entering the hollow of the tree. When he drew near, he saw that the nest was being occupied by a pair of wrens. The birds were looking after three small eggs. They did not make a fuzz about Chalon drawing a little bit closer. He perched on a nearby branch to look at the tiny birds. His reverie was interrupted when Amapola came and yelled, “Get off that branch before you fall and break your neck.”

Chalon gingerly dropped from the branch and landed on top of a wet root. This caused him to slip and fall on his face. Chalon quickly got up, and he brushed the grass and dirt stains from his clothing.

Amapola then noticed the sign that Chalon was carrying around with him. Pouting a bit, she said, “Oh, such a nuisance. And how did you get out of the meditation room? Did you climb?”

Chalon shook his head in response. Amapola then added, “Well, no matter if your business is concluded, begone with you.”

Chalon took his board, and then wrote, “I am waiting for somebody to wake up.”

“Again! Sheesh! Whatever I don’t care,” said Amapola. She added, “You are a wizard?”

“No,” wrote Chalon.

“Lair. And what’s with that flying about earlier? Did the gods grant you the ability to fly? Or are you a dragon? Either way, you must do a bit of magic?” asked Amapola.

“I am a magic user, but not a wizard,” wrote Chalon.

For outsiders reading this little report, I suppose some explanations are in order. Among our people, only one person is allowed the title of Wizard. Since Chalon is not that person, he will deny being a wizard.

“Sounds like splitting hairs, if you ask me. Can you do magic,” insisted Amapola.

“I can summon a bunny out of a hat,” wrote Chalon.

“I don’t need bunnies. I need someone who can do an exorcism,” said Amapola.

“Sure, I will bite, but this place doesn’t feel haunted to me,” wrote Chalon.

“Come with me, and then you will see,” said Amapola.

Chalon looked at the position of the sun and then looked back in to the room that housed Lady Jean. She usually slept for an hour or two, if left undisturbed. He still had some time to kill before it was time to return home. Chalon followed behind Amapola not knowing what to expect. She led him up some stairs, into the residential portion of the temple. While he was going up the wooden steps, he heard the boards groan. He stopped a moment, and Amapola stopped as well. The steps behind Chalon had groaned as if a person had given a step.

Chalon squinted his eyes as best he could, but he was not able to see a spirit or anything remotely supernatural. There was a bit of shadow in the general vicinity. It could have been a lurker. Once they got to the second floor, Amapola took Chalon to her room. She said, “Do you see anything out of the ordinary?”

Chalon did look about. She had the common things, with the vanity, the closet, the plush on the bed, the writing table, and a small book shelve. Everything seemed so mundane and somewhat girly. Chalon did note something a little bit off. All the books appeared to be in alphabetical order. However, the organization stopped at a certain point. Amapola commented looking at her shelve, “I like to organize my books by the color of the binds, but somebody today was putting them in alphabetical order.”

Chalon looked closely at one of the tones, and he smelled it. It had Amapola’s scent in addition to that of another.

Chalon wrote, “Does anyone else enter your room?”

“Just mother, but she puts everything back in place after dusting things off,” said Amapola. She frowned a moment and then added, “Mmm…Maybe she is the one who changed up my books.”

“Have you noticed anything goopy, like ectoplasm?” wrote Chalon.

“Ectoplasm? Never heard of it,” said Amapola.

“Like ghost slime,” wrote Chalon.

“Oh, that? I have seen a bit, but water from the fountains usually cleans it up,” said Amapola, “It is still a pain to have to deal with it. How do you keep ghost from visiting and messing with your stuff.”

“You can start by not inviting them in,” wrote Chalon. He added, “A simple ward restriction should be enough to keep them out, but do you really want to?”

“Yeah, I want to, why do you ask?” asked Amapola somewhat confused.

Chalon gestured to her to follow. Amapola went with Chalon to the round balcony that overlooked the garden on the first floor. They walked a bit till they were in a spot to look down on the people meditating. Frowning, Amapola whispered, “I swear to the Gods that people only come here to take their afternoon nap!”

Chalon pointed specifically to one of the patrons. It was a young maiden dressed in white. She was cradling a small baby in her arms. The lad was not wearing any garments, which was an odd choice. This at least seemed to Amapola. The child opened its eyes, and it saw that Amapola was staring at it. The child giggled and started suckling his fat toe. It then faded away turning into little shimmering light orbs.

Shaking her head sadly, Amapola said, “Now that is just sad.”

“I know,” wrote Chalon.

Amapola did not bother to look at what Chalon had written. Amapola added, “I suppose they are a mild nuisance that should be tolerated as long as they do no harm.”

Since Amapola’s will had changed. The nature of the temple altered as well. While her mother was seen as the leader of the temple, Amapola was where the true seat of sacred power resided. She was just not aware of this fact. This was so because she was the only one of the household who took care of the garden. When she was younger, her mother would hire out hands. Eventually, she had her daughter learn to do gardening in school, in order to save money.

Chalon wrote, “Who is that lady with the ghost?”

“Her name is Isaudra. She is one of our regular patrons. She started coming here when she lost her first child. It has been four years and she is still a loyal patron,” explained Amapola.

“How did he died?” asked Chalon using his board.

“He was born dead. I heard from mother that this is not too uncommon as far as infant deaths goes. Sometimes they just drop dead on you, even when they seem perfectly healthy,” wrote Amapola.

Strange, thought Chalon.

Amapola asked, “You seem pensive. Care to share your thoughts.”

“Well, most infants, even those that suffer violent deaths don’t come back as ghost. It is very rare to have a 6-month-old baby ghosting about,” wrote Chalon.

“You seem to know a lot about this,” said Amapola narrowing her eyes.

“Verily. I just speak from past Observations. My people have a pretty detailed history. Even things that seem unimportant draw their attention. When you observe enough things, you eventually learn something you did not know before,” wrote Chalon.

Amapola read what Chalon wrote ever the top. She then said, “I suppose that makes sense… look! There it is over there!”

She pointed a faint flash of small orby lights. The lights went down slowly into the gardens. Chalon and Amapola followed after. Chalon followed with his usual bored curiosity. As for Amapola, she was genuinely frightened of the apparition, and only her stubbornness kept her going forward. The lights went beyond the main tree, and they entered the plant nursery. It was in a greenhouse outside the temple. It had most of the plants that required a strong degree of sunlight.

The light eventually settled in a small pot, with some short purple flowers growing over them. Amapola lifted the pot and shook it around a bit. It did not make any supernatural sounds. At least, this was what she expected. She asked Chalon, “What type of flower is this?”

“It is called a Mandrake,” wrote Chalon. He added, “It has roots that look like a person and when pulled it makes a weird screech sound.”

“Really?” asked Amapola in disbelief.

To show his point, Chalon made a motion to uproot the plant. He stopped before he touched a petal.

Amapola asked, “Is something else the matter.”

“I don’t want to needlessly harm the plant,” wrote Chalon taking a step back.

He thought, It matters not; this minor curse. We must all pay what we own at some point in our life.

Chalon was brought back from his thoughts when he heard Amapola exclaim, “There are some dirty footsteps!”

Chalon rose an eyebrow but said nothing.

Amapola added, “Nobody usually comes here with dirty feet. I make certain of it.”

Chalon had not given much thought to this little matter. He always brushed his feet on the door carpet of whatever house he entered. He naturally assumed that everyone did the same out of common courtesy, but not this little culprit. After following the steps a bit, they saw that it led to a window. From there, the steps led to the street. The window could only be opened from the inside. On the floor, Chalon noticed a clue. It was a pair of glasses. Amapola picked it up with both her hands. At the same moment, Chalon mouthed the word NO, in exasperation. Amapola was too focused on the glasses to note her companion’s frustration. He looked out the window, and then at a nearby Observer who shrugged his shoulders in confusion as well. It is impossible to keep an eye on every living being. Beside the glasses, there was a turned carrot plat inside a ceramic pot. Chalon picked it up and placed it back down where it was. Just when he was putting it down, the basin finished cracking. It was such a bother when they did that. Amapola left the glasses on a table and went about to look for a new pot, a dustpan and a broom.

During the time Chalon was alone, he noticed something gleaming under the table. He bent down to reach for it. It was a counterfeit coin. He felt a broom slap on the behind, which made him get up quickly. Along the way, he struck his head against the table. He rubbed his sore head, while he started mouthing the letters, F and U. It took all his strength and self-control to swallow down this profanity. Indeed, his head was quite pained. The wooden table beneath had a skinny wooden plank for extra support. The way it protruded downward was just so designed to hurt ever so much, for the unfortunate fellow who would bash his head or knee against the table. More than once, Amapola had smashed her knee against the table while working with the flowers.

She would have cursed the maker of the table, but it was one of the many cheapskate projects of her father. As such, she was forced to grim and bear it. Chalon was lucky too that he did not get a nail stuck on his head. There was one near him, which he nearly avoided. Not happy with the smack to his dignity or whatever, Chalon starts leaving the greenhouse with a quick step. Amapola chases after him and says, “I am sorry. It was just a light tap. How was I supposed to know you were so uncoordinated?”

Chalon stopped and turned around. His eyes starring daggers at Amapola. He then came to look at one of the nearby Observers, who was chuckling. He saw from the Observer’s eyes what had just occurred, and his little accident made him grin. In the end, he took a deep sigh, and wrote down, “Its fine. It’s fine.”

Amapola still holding the broom asked, “What is that in your hand?”

Chalon showed her the coin. Amapola looked at it and said, “This is my coin.”

Chalon wrote, “So you have a side business in counterfeits.”

“Not so, but sometimes people pay with them and I put them in a little box in my room. It has been a while since I have found any fake coins, however. I wonder how this one got here?” said Amapola more to herself.

“Counterfeits are required by law to be sent to the treasury,” wrote Chalon.

“I know, but it is such a bother to have to go there for every copper,” said Amapola, “I usually wait till the box is full to go there.”

“We should go check out your lockbox to see if all of the fake coins are accounted for,” wrote Chalon.

Amapola, guessing Chalon’s frame of thought, left to locks the open window. When it was secured, she settled down for a moment to clean up the dirt. She then placed it into an empty pot, before securing the plant that had fallen. With a cloth, she cleaned the table. Once everything was dainty, she walked ahead of a Chalon back to her room. Along the way, she ran into her brother on the stairs.

Her brother Lirio commented, “Have you finally found a man who can stand you?”

“No, he is not my man, but an investigator. We think there is a thief among us,” said Amapola eyeing her brother with suspicion.

“It doesn’t seem likely, we always lock the stairs up the apartments, and the beams and balcony are structured in such an away that climbing up is a hard feat,” said Lirio looking at the balcony.

While most balconies were opened, these ones had bars that went all the way up the roof. They had interesting floral patterns, and some where even fully-fledged stained-glass windows. Amapola’s father had always been weary of thieves. Thus, making it upstairs was a bit of a daunting task indeed. Seeing that his sister was in earnest, Lirio added, “Can I help with something?”

“You can help by staying out of my way,” said Amapola walking past him.

Chalon said nothing of the matter. Though when he was in the highest step, he beckoned Lirio to follow with his hand.  Lirio was a lot like his sister. They even had the same haircut, but only by accident, not by design. Recently, Amapola had shorted her hair around the same time Lirio had gone to the barbershop. It would take another week before Lirio would notice this strange similarity. Aside from the hairdo, Lirio had the same round face as his sister, and thick lips as well. His most interesting feature where his black eyes, with long eyelashes. Many a times people would think he was a thoughtful fellow, because of those deep eyes. Though the reality was that Lirio was only serious in appearance.

After hesitating a bit, he followed after Chalon and his sister. Amapola slowly opened the door to her room. She grasped and took a step back when she noticed that the sofa was on top of the couch. On top of the couch, there were two chairs at opposing ends. Chalon noted two Observers chuckling in the background. Chalon wrote, “It’s probably some prank.”

“No, it’s not the stacked chairs. I see them from time to time. They turn back to normal if you do not make a big deal about it. No, look,” she said kneeling down beneath her bed. One of her pillows was slightly turned, and one of the sandals was a little further than what it should be. Amapola was always very tidy about her sandals. She was not a big fan of the marble cladding of the floor. It always made walking barefoot rather cold, and falls tended to hurt more than what they should.

Beneath her bed, she reached for her little lockbox. It was unlocked and empty. When she turned around, she saw that the furniture was back to normal. Lirio looked sternly at his sister.

Frowning, Amapola said, “We have been robbed.”

“I am sorry, was that all your savings?” asked her brother concerned.

“Not really. This box only had the fake coins. Aside from the fake money, nothing else seems to have been taken,” said Amapola giving a sigh of relief.

Lirio scratched his head a couple of times. He then passed his hand over his head. Sitting down on the bed, he said, “Call the guards, now!”

“Wait, what?” asked Amapola.

“Don’t wait! Just do as I say,” said Lirio. He added, “Never mind, I will fetch them myself. See to it that the patrons are escorted out before they arrive.”

Amapola stood there, uncertain as to what to do. Only the fake coins had been taken. Still, this little thief did not inspire her much confidence. She pondered on what would occur if an even worse type of individual brazed the temple.

Amapola sat down on her bed and assumed the Thinker position. It was not too uncommon for her to shut out the outside world, whenever things got a little bit out of hands. Since she was not budging, Chalon left the bedroom, but not before taking the key used to open the door to the meditation rooms. He made his way downstairs, and he noticed that the door out of the stairs was locked. Frowning a bit, he placed inside his auria anything seriously solid. He then arced his body through the bars, and he wiggled himself till he was on the other side. It was not the most gracious squeeze, but it was no big deal for people with Squid like bodies. This is at least how Chalon thought of himself anyway. He liked squids, and he pitied that many had short lifespans.

Research had been done in our world to artificially extend the lifespan of squids. This silly little side project was successful in quadrupling their lifespan. Still, for those that only lived for one year, it at most helped them survive for an entire Saturnastrian year. All in all, genetics is more of a hobby than a profession these days, which is more the pity.

Anyhow, Chalon made his way through the gardens. When he reached the meditation rooms, he wrote on his sign, “A Thief was spotted in the Temple. Return home for your Safety.”

Chalon opened the first door. Inside, he found Isaudra reading a book. He placed his sign close to her face. Isaudra blinked twice, somewhat confused. She then got up, and picked up her umbrella, and small wicker basket, before heading out. The second person in the other room was a poultry fellow whose snores were thankfully droned by the rippling water of the nearby fountain. Chalon jabbed at his belly with his index finger. Since the fellow was not waking up, he pulled a single hair strand from the fellow’s head. This did not wake him either. Chalon pulled the fellow’s cheeks, and he tried tickling his ear with a piece of fallen leaf.

Remembering his chalkboard, Chalon made his nails long and sharp. His nails on a chalkboard did the trick. Startled, the noble fellow asked, “Wait, what? Where am I? Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”

The fellow still confused got up and drew his rapier. Chalon blocked the first strike using his board, which got pierced. He then turned the board, to cause the man to lose his grip. When the man was disarmed, Chalon handed the sword back with the chalkboard. The fellow read the message, and flustered said, “I am sorry. I just forgot where I was.”

He made a motion to dislodge the rapier, but it was stuck. Chalon took his board, with both his hand, and started pulling it back. This caused the man to rise from the motion of it. The man held onto the bench, and with his resistance, Chalon was able to pry off the rapier from his chalkboard. After concluding this business, Chalon left to check on the other meditation rooms.

He opened the third door, but there was nobody inside. The noble from before was following behind Chalon. Chalon held up his sign again. The fellow putted on some reading glasses. He frowned after reading the message.

He said to Chalon, “A thief in the temple of Ortisa! How absurd! Never in all my years did I live to see the day that a temple would become a target for thieves.”

Chalon said nothing in response. He then proceeded to open the following door. This time there was a lady with two sleeping children. Chalon showed her the sign, and she proceeded to gently wake up her wards.

Meanwhile, the noble continued with his soliloquy, “This will not do. I will put my best men on the job. Mark my words, this thief will be apprehended before the night falls, just you wait and see!”

With this determination, the noble stormed out of the temple. Once outside, Chalon saw the man making his way down the street. Chalon would have seen more, but the front door closed. When he turned around, the children were already awake. There were about three of them. The two boys were five and the eldest was a 7-year-old girl. The girl came to stand before Chalon.

She asked, “Are you a wizard?”

Chalon shook his head to illustrate no. The mother took the girl’s hand and said, “Hush now. Can’t you see that the man is busy? We should return home for supper.”

“Alright,” said the girl not too convinced.

The following room had two people half dressed, being very quiet about their business. Chalon placed the sign in front of the maiden who seemed the most lucid. She read the message and her eyes widen. Jumping to her feet, she said, “We must go now Roger!”

The man called Roger alarmed said, “Sorry. We, I am sorry...”

Chalon did not linger at the door. The message had been delivered and so he went to make his way to the other room. He heard the lady say, “What a weirdo.”

“I wonder if he is going to tell on us?” asked Roger.

“I doubt it,” said the lady getting dressed.

When the pair deemed themselves presentable, they stormed out the temple. The following door had Lady Jean. Since Chalon wanted her to sleep a little bit more, he decided to go to the following room. This room when opened was empty. There was still four more rooms to check.

The following room had two men silently playing chess. Chalon showed the sign to one of them. The fellow who read the sign said, “Really?”

“What’s the matter?” asked the other man.

“There seems like a thief was spotted lurking the grounds. We should go home to avoid getting mixed up in this sordid nonsense,” explained the first fellow. The pair left after putting their chess game away and writing down where they had left off.

Before departing, one of the noble fellows stared intently at Chalon’s face. There was the slight hint of recognition, but the man could not put his finger on it. Chalon did recognize the man, but he chose to continue treating him like he was a stranger. The third to last room was empty. Based on the walls, somebody had climbed up the vines recently. The second to last room was indeed occupied. It had a nanny with a toddler inside a stroller. The nanny was looking at the pictures of the book in her hand. Based on the picture of one of the pages, Chalon noticed that it was a romance novel. It featured the standard couple kissing.

As before, Chalon placed his board in front of the patron’s face. The nanny startled moved back a pace. The baby coed a little and awoke due to the sound of the book closing abruptly. Chalon gestured with his board. The nanny looked at the letters, but she did not comprehend them. Chalon pointed to the nanny and then towards the main entrance of the temple.

“I don’t get it. Do you want me to leave?” asked the nanny.

Chalon nodded his head in response.

“Why?” asked the nanny.

Chalon in response drew a picture of a skull. Alarmed the nanny got up and started pulling the large stroller through the uneven stone paved ground. The baby rattled by the movement started crying pitifully. The person in the last room yelled, “Will you quiet that stupid baby of yours!”

Chalon opened the last door. The man inside was a hulky type of fellow dressed in a noble outfit. Instead of a rapier, he had a small decorative dagger inside a large cloth belt. Chalon showed him the sign, and as he read it his eyes widened. His face then turned into a grin and he started laughing.

Grinning he said, “Who in his right mind would rob a temple?”

Chalon shrugged his shoulders in response. He left the man to his own ruminations. At last, he opened the door to Lady Jean’s room. He shook her shoulder a bit to wake her up. She snored awoke herself. Languidly, she got up and she seemed a little bit daze. Recognizing where she was, she said to Chalon, “Is it time to go home?”

Chalon nodded in response.

Lady Jean held her cane and took a step forward, and then another. Chalon followed behind. The ground was a bit uneven, so she went slower than usual. By the time they reached the door, the guards were already arriving. One of them commented, “Are you one of the patrons?”

Lady Jean said, “Yes, and we were just leaving after hearing the news.”

“Did you see or hear anything unusual?” asked the guard.

“Not really. When I nap, I mean meditate, I am quite keen on shutting out exterior influences. The fountain also helps mitigate some of the noise,” explained Lady Jean.

“And you boy?” asked the guard to Chalon.

Chalon was about to write something, but Lady Jean said, “The boy is daft, so he wouldn’t be much use to you anyway.”

“I see,” said the guard, “Carry on then, madam.”

Lady Jean moved on ahead. Chalon lingered a little and seemed inclined to write something on his board. In the end, he decided to drop the matter altogether. It was an hour and a half till sunset. When night came, Chalon’s nightly duties would begin. These duties depended on the time of year and the current need of the clan. For the moment, the clan needed more fighters. As such, it was Chalon’s duty to find willing recruits. With the progression of the civil war, the roads in the kingdom had become far more dangerous. Soldiers that were normally clearing the out the bandits now had more urgent matters to attend to.

This had caused a decrease in the trade between cities. It had also increased the number of refugees. Chalon believed that the little thieve was not native to Sassari. If he was, he would have known that the strange looking structure was a temple and not a mansion. For starters, the structure did not have any idols or altars, or anything that would mark it as a temple for the uninitiated.

Chalon’s ruminations were interrupted when he saw a person approaching him and Lady Jean at a high pace. Based on his intentions, the person was going to bump rob Lady Jean. Before he could, Chalon made one the tiles in the pavement rise slightly. This caused the would-be thief to lose his balance and give a couple of odd steps to keep himself from falling. Lady Jean and Chalon moved out the way, and they continued with their walk. The thief looked behind at his targets, and then to the floor tile. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the tile sink back down to the floor again.

Lady Jean commented, “Are there usually this many muggers?”

“It has something to do with the weather,” wrote Chalon down.

“What does the weather have to do with anything?” asked Lady Jean incredulous.

“The weather affects people’s moods,” wrote Chalon.

“How so?” asked Lady Jean.

“Think about it. How does seeing a rainbow make you feel?” wrote Chalon.

“Happy?” said Lady Jean indulging Chalon.

“Just as a rainbow inspires positive emotions, certain weather types inspire negative emotions,” wrote Chalon. He erased this message after Lady Jean read it. Afterwards, he added, “Like for example, when it rains people tend to feel sad, and lonely. As for cloudy, and windy, it makes people feel agitated, and worried about their own future. And so, thieves are more like to work on cloudy, windy days.”

“If you say so,” said Lady Jean, “I personally prefer windy days, because it is easier to fall asleep. All I need is to open a window and the breeze cools my room quite a bit.”

“I was also making a generalization. There are exceptions to all rules,” wrote Chalon.

By now, the pair had crossed the road, and where on the second block. Only a couple of more blocks and they would be by the gate. While they had spoken, the pair had noticed a different fellow trailing behind them. Lady Jean had done her best to ignore the man. Chalon indeed was pretending the fellow was not there. He did not sense any negative emotions, as such there was no cause for alarm. Lady Jean was silent for a bit, when she saw the man drawing closer. She breathed in a sigh of relief when the man turned a corner.

“Chalon, what is your favorite type of weather?” asked Lady Jean to continue the pointless conversation.

“I like foggy weather. It gives a nice romantic, intimate feel to everything,” wrote Chalon.

“I find fog rather dreary. The water droplets cling to everything, and the fog even makes inanimate objects cry,” said Lady Jean thoughtfully.

Chalon following her frame of though saw what she had just remembered. When Lady Jean was small, there was a statue of a little girl in the gardens. Whenever it was foggy, the condensation made it seem that the little girl statue was crying. It was many years later that she learned who was buried beneath that statue.   

Lady Jean frowned when noticed Chalon’s eyes taking that restful, thoughtful position. She pinched his arm, and then she added, “This little habit of yours is certainly annoying. Can a person not be allowed their own private meditations?”

Chalon shook his head in response. He reached his board to add something else, but Lady Jean rose her hand, and then said, “I am done conversing with you for the moment. As to the why, you should know by now.”

Chalon sighed and started preoccupying himself with his surroundings. By now, almost everyone in the camp was onto Chalon’s ability. Aside from being somewhat bothersome, most people did not make a big deal about it. It was treated like any other magical ability. The reality is that magic people are different than telepaths. Mind readers could be magic users, but magic users did not have the innate ability to read minds. This ability had more to do with the physicality of the brain, than mana. How it worked varied from person to person. As for Chalon, he picked up on the electrical currents generated within the brain. He would then play it back to get a view of what the person was thinking. The process could be done on real time, with a lag of only a couple of milliseconds.

The clouds moved over the sky somewhat lazily, but the wind felt a tad cold. The gusts ranged from 5 to 10 miles per hour. Chalon saw another one of the carriages pass by. More guards were making their way to the temple. With such high numbers, there were good odds that a fellow might get caught. They had a vital clue after all. They would capture any fellow trying to buy items with counterfeit coins. The thief was probably young too, seeing as though he could not tell the real coins, form the fake ones.

Lady Jean bored broke the silence and asked, “What normally happens to thieves here?”

“They get sent to the mines,” wrote Chalon, “If they are younger than 8, they get sent to a prison orphanage.”

“That’s a bit young, don’t you think?” commented Lady Jean.

“Imperia La Divina started ruling when she was 8,” Chalon erased this after Lady Jean read it. He then added, “And so she believes that 8-year-olds are old enough to know the difference between right and wrong.”

“Mmm…” said Lady Jean not too convinced.

As they were speaking of this matter, Chalon and Lady Jean were passing by one of those prison orphanages. This they did not know it at the time. The place did not look like a prison, and the gates were opened. It had an interesting garden, and the windows where made of stained-glass lead. Each window had a different design. The facade only had four large windows. The first one featured a person fishing. The right one had a person sailing a boat. The left window on the second floor had a stylized depiction of a coral reef. The second one had a jellyfish, surrounded by a school of tiny fishes. It was the jelly fish window which caught Chalon’s attention.

This house had a lot of nautical references because the owner of the prison worshiped Erua, the Goddess of Sea Water. Fresh water had its own divinity. Unlike the cultists of Lara, Erua had many different styles of worship. The most popular at the moment involved sailors wearing makeup. Those in the inland found this outward expression of worship laughable. It was no laughing matter to the sailors. Those who stuck to their believes diligently always returned to port in one piece. Those who did not where eventually swallowed up by the indifferent ocean.

All in all, there was not a centralized type of religious organization. Each little region did its own thing. However, with the waning of the power in Veragerung, the priests were working hard in their regions to fill the power gap. In this way, they hoped to make themselves a King. Such efforts were still in their infancy. They bear no relevance to this report. It just seemed like useful background information.

After passing by this orphanage, Chalon stopped before crossing the road. There was a group of guards marching. Since they did not inspire much confidence, Chalon and Lady Jean turned into the adjacent alley. From there, they stopped to wait for the guards to pass by. The clouds were slowly gathering. The alley itself was sandwiched between two, four story tall apartment complexes. Since they were older buildings, the alley was slightly thinner than current regulations allowed. Still, it was a bit too much of a hazzle to tear down perfectly good buildings to make the alley bigger. The whole point of this explanation is to illustrate the fact that it was a dark little alley. It was the perfect place to get mugged, as far as I am concerned. Thankfully, the incident at the temple had the guards all in a frenzy. Any self-respecting mugger knew to best lay low.

There was however a faint dragging sound, and some uneven footsteps. As it drew closer, Chalon heard a ragged breath. Chalon did his best to ignore the sound. Many at times, it was nothing that was pertinent to the physical world he inhabited. The person or whatever eventually collapsed. The guards were finally gone, and Chalon took a step forward. He was detained by Lady Jean who was holding onto his elbow. She did not take a step forward. Turning around, she asked, “Did you hear something?”

Lady Jean was not the type of fellow who heard anything remotely supernatural. Since she was little, she had decided to focus on the real world and nothing else. With enough willpower, one can control perception.

Chalon nodded his head in response. At the sound of the familiar voice, the dying man said, “Sh…sh…ple…p…me.”

Chalon finally turned around. He squinted his eyes a bit. Eventually, he saw a huddled figure holding his sides. He came to sit near the fellow. He turned the stranger around to have a look at the face. After gurgling up some blood, the man said, “Chalon… Please, don’t let me die.”

Lady Jean drew nearer. She grasped when the light of recognition hit her. She exclaimed, “By the Gods, Jay! What happened to you?”

“Help me,” repeated Jay grasping Chalon’s shoulders.

The blood from his wounds stained Chalon’s robes. Somewhat grudgingly, Chalon made the attempt to help him. Chalon did not have his siblings’ innate healing skills. All he could use was based on Science! So, the scientific way of handling the problem was as so. First, Chalon opened Jay’s coat and vest. Using telepathy, he forced the wounds to close shut. He got from beneath his robes some oxygenated water, mixed with soap, which he used to clean the five stab wounds to the belly. Once the gut was sparkly clean, he got five long pieces of his hair strand. He threaded a needle with it. He then proceeded to sew up the wounds. He then applied a bit of ointment and he placed it over the wounds. Afterwards, he bandaged it up, using a long, clean white cloth.

As for the coughing up blood. Chalon read the mind of Jay’s automatic nervous system. According to it, there was damage in the walls of the stomach as a result of the stab. The liver was also somewhat scratched too. Chalon sighed, seeing what all his hard work had led to. He removed a single piece of golden string from his cloth. He had it enter the vein. It eventually made its way to the damaged area. From there, it sewed up the gastric walls. As for the liver, the string turned into a milky substance that sealed up the blood vessels.

With these initial repairs, Jay would live, quite painfully for the next couple of days. This was the best he could do, with the tools Chalon had available. With Jay patched up, Chalon carried the larger man in the fashion one usually did with little ladies. Lady Jean followed behind quite disturbed. By now, Jay was fainted from the pain and loss of blood. Chalon looked quite ghastly indeed, with his robes, and face stained with blood. This was in spite of the fact that he avoided touching Jay as much as possible. While Chalon walked, people turned to look at him quite alarmed. A person in a carriage passing by stopped and said, “Do you need a ride?”

“Yes, sir! Take us back to camp!” said Lady Jean alarmed.

Chalon did not have a means to protest. Lady Jean was already in the front seat, beside the driver. Chalon placed Jay within, lying flat on the floor with his knees up. Chalon sat on the chair over him, looking down on the fellow. When all were settled in, the driver raced back to the entrance of Sassari.