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Time 19:37

Before the carriage arrived, the gypsies were going about their business in camp. Some were rehearsing their little plays, while others were setting up the portable wooden stage. It was common for their performances to be done in the exterior of the city. This did not stop the locals from visiting. They knew by now what to expect. In the morning, the children had littered the city with posters promoting the performance. By now, a crowd of locals was roaming the gypsy camp. There were also a couple of local guards there to maintain order. The jovial peace of the evening was shattered by the sound of two galloping horses and a carriage speeding out of the city. One of the guards commented, “Oi, oi! What’s all the clamor all about?”

They came to see why the man was speeding and why he had run past the checkpoint. Right behind him, there were a couple of paladins galloping after the carriage. The situation became clear when Chalon opened the carriage door. His face was still splattered in blood, as well as his arms and his robes. The paladins when they saw the reason for hurry returned to their posts. Chalon carried Jay in his arms. Word of alarm spread through the gypsy camp. Harold was the first to enter the scene.

He said, “Take him to his mother.”

The gypsies rushed and unburdened Chalon. Harold added, “Come with me, Chalon.”

Kay entered the scene. Frowning, she said to Chalon, “What happened?”

Harold said, “We are being watched. It is best we do not discuss private matters out in the open.”

“I am afraid it will not do,” said one of the guards coming forward, “A crime was committed within our fair city. Foreigner, or not, this will not do.”

“Suit yourself,” said Harold knowing that it was futile to argue with a curious guard.

As if remembering something, Harold added, “Somebody help Lady Jean return to her room.”

Right on cue, four jesters came and helped Lady Jean descend from the carriage. She was escorted back to her trailer.

As for the guard, he was indeed inquiring out of curiosity, not duty. He had no intention of following through with the investigation of an attempted murder of a gypsy. At most, he would offer his reports to the paladins and that would be the end of the matter. The name of this particular guard was Sir Lamorak. He was medium height, about 5’6’’. He had short black hair, and eyes that changed color based on his emotions. It was a trait he had inherited from his nymph mother.

His father was some feudal lord or another. His mother was not certain. Since Lamorak was a handsome youth, two Lords had laid claimed to him as their legitimate heir. It was a fancy born out of convenience, and out of the fact that his mother had told both fathers that Sir Lamorak was their son. This in the end does not matter too much in the grand scheme of things. Sure, he had properties under his name, but playing little prince in a castle did not appeal much to Sir Lamorak.

To spend his idle time, he decided to get himself a little safe, day job as a guard. At most, all he ever had to do was beat up on some thieving peasants. The heavy lighting was usually done by the Paladins. The Paladins was just the fancy name given to the palace guards. Whenever anything serious was afoot, a small garrison of them would leave the palace ridding on horseback to tackle the problem. There was usually a pair of them guarding each entrance of the city.

Moving along! Chalon followed after Harold, with the guard trailing behind. Eventually, they reached Harold’s trailer. Harold entered first and Chalon followed afterwards. Before Sir Lamorak could enter Chalon closed the door behind him.

Lamorak annoyed said, “Hey! You said I could listen in.”

Lamorak knocked a couple of times. In the end, he decided not to press the issue. The night was closely approaching, and he was eager to end his shift. Once Harold heard the knight depart, he asked Chalon, “What happened?”

Chalon grabbed his board to write it down. Harold took the board and chalk from Chalon before saying, “I haven’t the patience for your nonsense. Use your words and be brief about it.”

Chalon was silent for a moment. During that moment, he imagined how the rest of the day was supposed to progress. After returning Lady Jean, he would have eaten his supper. He would then have performed in the night’s festivities as a bit player, but a player, nonetheless. After his scene, he would have gone into the graveyards to awaken one of the dormant revenants. Depending on the revenant’s mood he might had performed a duel or an odd task or two. He would then have returned home to write a bit before tugging his dolls in for bed.

None of the people from the clan made a big deal about the dolls. Each person in the clan had its own eccentricities that were indulged, under the rule of Harold the laid back. The bully culture did not exist, and any new member who tried to burst a person’s bubble was severely reprimanded.

In the end, since Chalon was not speaking, Harold sighed and returned Chalon his board and chalk. Swiftly, Chalon wrote this, “I was walking back with Lady Jean when I turn around and I see Jay bleeding out on the floor.”

“You did not see the attacker?” asked Harold.

Chalon shook his head in response.

Chalon added, “There was a thief in the temple. He could have attacked Jay.”

“It is certainly a possibility,” said Harold more to himself, “The city of Sassari only grows more dangerous as this war progresses. Truly, only an unscrupulous bastard could have the audacity to rob a temple.”

“Those who do become accursed in this world,” wrote Chalon.

“Then, it should be easy for you to find the culprit,” said Harold smiling.

Chalon bashed his palm against his head. He then mouthed the phrase, “You are right!”

Getting up, Chalon wrote, “I will track him right away.”

“Wait!” said Harold detaining Chalon, “Take Kay with you. She might want to participate in the rites of retribution.”

Chalon nodded in response. Chalon left the trailer and made his way towards the resting place of Jay. He assumed that his sister would be with him. Along the way, his belly started rumbling. He made his way towards the kitchen area. Since he was short of time, he cooked for himself some ham, with cheese on top. When the cheese melted, he placed it inside a piece of bread, which he wrapped around a cloth. With this done, he proceeded to walk and eat. He stopped a moment, when he saw Vadim coming towards him. Vadim was the father of the twins. He said to Chalon, “Are you well?”

It was then when Chalon noticed he had not bothered to change. His hands were stained with blood and he was touching food. This would be a hygiene problem for someone with a low metabolism. In the end, Chalon placed under his robes his half-eaten sandwich. He wiped the blood from his hands on the side of his robes. He then wrote to Vadim, “I am fine.”

“You should bathe before heading out, lets you attract unwarranted attention. Kay is waiting for you in the entrance of the city,” explained Vadim.

Vadim was about 45 years old. He did not look a day above 25. The humans in this world aged somewhat slowly than the garden variety humans of other worlds. Sure, people’s lifespans could be increased with technology. Still, most have kept the traditional aging rate. These humans lived a little longer than usual as a result of their diet. There was an interesting bacterial on the soil. When consumed by the locals, it slowed down the aging progress. Those who ate more veggies tended to age a lot slower. This is at least what the local grandmothers used to say to their children.

Anyhow, Vadim had tawny colored skin, and mint colored eyes. He sported a beard because he thought it made him look younger. His wife Lavi thought him silly, but she was not one to argue. She detested any type of conflict, be they small or major. At the moment, she was petting Jay’s head. She used to do so ever since he was a wee child. It would comfort him whenever he was not feeling well. Lavi was of fairer complexion, thought it did not matter too much since she spent a lot of time outdoors. As such, she had tanned skin. Her eyes were the color of amber. She was seven years older than Vadim.

Before taking his bath, Chalon peered through the window of Kay’s trailer. Lavi looked up and said, “He’s fine.”

Chalon stepped back a bit. He noted two other maidens coming in with cloths, and a wash basin. It was important to keep the wounds clean to aid in the slow recuperation progress. From the trailer, Chalon went towards the well. He removed his clothing. He then pressed them into his somewhat closed first. It was the same fashion employed by magicians in their silly handkerchief tricks. He proceeded to scrub himself clean with soap, and a sponge. Every so often, he would draw water from the well to clean himself. When he felt that he was sparkly clean, he summoned forth a new set of attires.

Since the night felt a little heavy, he decided to sport something a little lighter. His new mage robes came in two pieces. The hood and sleeves were made of chiffon. The end of the sleeves were all embroidered. The hood was also made of chiffon. The chest piece was made of Charmeuse. It only went as low as the chest, leaving his belly button exposed. The skirt was tied by a thick leather belt. This too was made of Chiffon, with embroidered patterns. Bellow it, he wore short pants that were knee long. For shoes he wore leather boots, decorated with laces. On his hands, he had small leather gloves, with the fingers opened. The entire color scheme was black. To break the monotony, he had gold on the belt, a ruby on the bow of the laces, and large hoop earrings.

After looking at himself over the top, Chalon reached into his sleeve and brought out an ornamental rapier, with golden leaves. With this, he felt himself dressed enough for the real world. By now, night had finally fallen. There was a little bit of a red glow left in the night sky. The stars were out and the moons where shinning rather brightly. Chalon ran swiftly till he made it to the outskirts of the city. There was Kay waiting. She was dressed like a male nobleman, with the lace hat, and the frilly collar, with the dress sword. Still, the overall color scheme was pink and white. She was visibly hot inside that outfit. Still the laws of decency prevented most people from dressing based on their temperature that surrounded them.

When she saw Chalon, she commented, “Are you not a little underdressed?”

Chalon wrote, “Meh.”

“Suit yourself. But it won’t be my fault if we get fined by the guards,” said Kay sternly.

The pair walked back towards town. The Magistrate was the same from the afternoon. Since he recognized Kay and Chalon, he allowed them to pass without any inquiry. Once inside, Kay asked, “Where do we start our search?”

“In the prison,” wrote Chalon.

“You think they got our man already?” asked Kay.

“Seems likely,” wrote Chalon.

The pair started to walk in the direction of the prison. Unlike most feudals, the prison was nowhere near the palace. They started walking eastward, following the wall, till they found a stoic looking construction. There was a paladin outside guarding the door. When he saw Chalon and Kay, he asked, “Can I help you with something?”

“My brother was stabbed today, and I think it was done by the temple thief. Have you caught him already?” asked Kay.

“Not yet, but speak of the demon,” said the paladin.

Right on cue, there were several guards escorting a fellow. On top of his head, there was a growth of a flower. It was a cluster of green milkweed flowers. The thief was not aware of the growth. He kept saying, “You have made a mistake! I did not steal anything!”

The truth of the matter is that all who stole from the temple were cursed in one way or another. Those who stole from the temple of Ortisa got a weird flower growth. Depending on what they stole is the type of flower that grew. Though this crime rarely occurred, there was already an established protocol for finding the thief. Every person stopped by the guards was required to remove their hat. If they had a flower growing on their head, then they were the guilty party. The flowers where not always a curse. Sometimes they were a blessing. The most auspicious of flower was the Bidens Alba.

This flower blessing treats hypertension, inflammation and bacterial infections. It is not too uncommon for both male and females bearing such a blessing to be married. The Goddess Ortisa is a good matchmaker in this regards. These marriages tend to be quite happy. The first one of its kind took place about 700 years ago. A good nature sailor one day was blessed by the Goddess. At the time, such a blessings had never been given before. All he saw was that he was growing a strange flower on his head. At first, he was tempted to cut it, but he got scared. In the end, he decided that the most sensible option was to wear a hat. The sensible option was short lived, however. A wind gust came, and he lost his hat. When the sailors saw him with the silly Bidens Alba flower, they all laughed at him. The one person who did not share their mirth was one of the lady passengers of the merchant ship. She too was sporting the same flower. Though it did not call anyone’s attention, she being a lady and all. She told him that the Bidens Alba was a blessing, and not to be ashamed of the Goddess’s favor. She knew she was blessed because she used to suffer from terrible coughing fits, but the flower cleared up her condition. The two eventually married, and they lived happily ever after. Their story has been passed from generation to generation, though the names of the couple have some regional variance.

What does this have to do with the thief? Nothing! I just thought it was an interesting little side story. I am a sucker for romances. Sadly, there is none to be found in the tale of Chalon. He is such a droll. Now, back to the story. The thief was pitching a fit, because he claimed to have been framed.

“I did not do this,” he exclaimed over and over.

“Denial is not going to help you out of this situation,” said the paladin shaking his head.

“May we speak with him,” insisted Kay.

“I do not mind. The judge is not going to be available till the morrow, so you might as well have your fill, but I do not guarantee that you will get any results,” said the paladin opening the door for Kay.

Chalon followed behind. The guard read the stupid sigh that Chalon always carried. This elicited a dry laugh from the paladin. The name of the fellow was Sir Ladarius Cassius. He was a direct descendant of an ancient Sleeper known as Cassius. The blood of this powerful being had been diluted over time. Now all his descendants were practically human. He did have some oddities that tied him to this ancient ancestor. The most notable was the ability to voice command on and off his pain receptors. He also had a perfect balance, which was a useful skill when dancing or trying to walk over a narrow path. His most interesting skill was the ability to vividly recall the events of his entire life. All that Sir Ladarius had to say was the date and time for his mind to reproduce a perfect playback.

Other family members exhibited other unique attributes. Not much is known about the Sleepers, other than their Sleeping habits. It is rare for one to awake in a helpful mood. It is even rare for them to father an entire bloodline. It takes all kinds, or so it would seem. Like the ancient Cassius, Ladarius had a beautiful girly face with bright blue eyes, and curly red hair. To give himself a more masculine look Ladarius sported beard and mustache, all finely combed and trimmed. As for the armor, it was more ornamental than anything else, made of finely crafted silver.

Due to his recollection abilities, he was stationed in the prison. He was to take note of all the testimony spoken by the prisoners and commit them to writing. He was not too obvious about this task because he did not have a visible pen and paper on him at the moment. Fugitives tended to have loose lips whenever they thought nobody was seriously paying attention. Ladarius furrowed his eyebrow trying to recall something. After a second, he said, “You are Kay and Chalon.”

“Yes, do I know you?” asked Kay confused.

“We met about 10 years ago. I saw you perform with your little brother. You were sporting the most adorable little pink dress,” said Ladarius.

“Sheesh! Don’t remind me. It was so embarrassing,” said Kay blushing.

“I thought you were quite charming,” said Ladarius.

“I suppose so, for a bit part,” said Kay. She added remembering her brother, “As for the thief…”

“Yes, yes, I will arrange a meeting. Wait here,” said Ladarius.

He left Chalon and Kay inside his office. The top levels where more like offices, with a library located in the center. Further bellow there was the series of dungeons. The main interrogation was done on the first floor, in a room surrounded by mirrors. There prisoner was chained to the floor and made to stand. Meanwhile, the interrogator had his cushioned chair and desk. These were not two way mirrors. Rather it was a design choice. The main judge thought that mirrors helped prisoners realize just how stupid they were sounding. The local judge never had to rely on torture, him being a lying detector. With enough questioning, he could arrive at the desired truth.

Sassari was one of the few cities that did not allow torture. The second was Sybilla, the home of the dragons. Torture was seemed as a way of needlessly damaging the flesh. A pure body could be made to work. A broken one was useless. As for capital punishment, it was allowed, but it was never done publicly because it ruined the aesthetic of the city. A city that did love a public execution was Aragon. It was a good thing Chalon was not in Aragon.

While Chalon and Kay waited in the office, they took stock of their surroundings. Behind the writing desk and chair, there was a gorgeous tapestry. It was made of wool, linen and silk. The pattern it displayed was a very distracting allegory of justice. It featured a maiden only wearing a set of red necklaces. The longest one went as low as her chest. It had quite the ornamental ruby. Her hair was combed up in two little buds. She had one of those stoic, idealized type of faces. On her hand she had a scale and a sword. The man who sold the tapestry to Ladarius said that it depicted the Goddess of Justice. Despite the large pantheon of Gods and Goddesses, there was not a single deity that represented Justice. This was part of the current climate of the day. If there was no Justice in the world, then there was no God of Justice. It was perceived as a chimeric illusion, something that did not truly exist.

Kay staring at the lack of attire of the maiden in the tapestry commented, “It is certainly quite…the interesting choice of decoration. I wonder how he manages to get any work done.”

Chalon wrote, “Well, the chair is placed in such a way as to have his back turned to the Goddess.”

“Is that a Goddess, then?” asked Kay.

“It’s a representation of one,” wrote Chalon.

“I see. A bit informal in its treatment, don’t you think? It is almost blasphemous, don’t you think?” asked Kay.

“How so?” wrote Chalon.

“Well, if I was a powerful being I would not like people to worship me looking so indecent,” said Kay.

“There is nothing indecent about the human body,” wrote Chalon.

“Yes, you are right,” said Kay ending the conversation.

This was not the first time Kay tackled this subject matter with Chalon. Both already had made their points in the past, and there was no reason to further pursue the matter. From the tapestry, Chalon came to look over the top the books. They were all law related. The thickest ones was about the zoning and coding laws of Veragerung. There were certain rules all holds had to follow for all their new construction projects. Those found in violation where publicly flogged, or where pressed to death using the same faulty materials used in their construction projects. As an architect, Berthame would not tolerate buildings that ruined the aesthetics of his Kingdom.

Chalon took from under his sleeves his sandwich. He took a single bite, and then pouted when he noted Kay rolling her eyes at him. Based on his look, Kay could tell that Chalon was hungry and he was going to eat regardless of where he was. Chalon took another bite, and some crumbs fell to the floor. A small rat came to investigate. Almost on instinct, Chalon jumped and landed on the table still holding his sandwich.

Laughing, Kay said, “It is just a rat, sheesh!”

Seconds later, Sir Ladarius opened the door. He saw Chalon with his sandwich. He frowned when he noted that Chalon was standing on the table. Chalon to put an end to this, ate the rest of his dinner rather quickly. When there was nothing left, he jumped down from the table. Sir Ladarius came to his table and using his cape he fastidiously cleaned the spot where Chalon had just been standing.

Kay still somewhat grinning said, “I am sorry. He is afraid of rodents.”

“No harm done,” said Sir Ladarius.

Chalon wrote, “I was just surprised as all. Now, thinking about it more closely. It was not a rat, but an opossum.”

The pair started following behind Ladarius. While he led them through the hallway to the interrogation chamber, Ladarius asked, “What is an opossum?”

“They look like rats, but they do not have ticks. They play dead when scared. Aside from cheese, they eat insects and dead animals,” wrote Chalon.

Ladarius read the explanation before passing it to Kay, who pretended to read it before handing the board back to Chalon.

Ladarius stopped before the iron door. He then said, “From our preliminary inquest, the boy snuck into the city some months ago. He has been eking out an exitance by robbing people. He says he cannot work without a permit, and so he stole for want of bread. This is a lie of course. Four years ago, he visited Sassari, and was quite frivolous in his spending. It seems like his luck had finally ran out,” Ladarius added, “He calls himself Chase. I think that is his work name. He waited a bit too much for my taste before giving me this name. You can probably call him whatever and he will answer by that name. If he did attack your friend, I doubt he will admit it. I fear he will be sent to the mines by the end of the month if he doesn’t show any signs of repentance.”

After this prelude, Kay was able to look into the face of the man she thought had injured her brother. Well, this was what she thought. She had already forgotten that she had met him on the way into the dungeon. He was chained to the floor. The flowers on top of his head where already twice as big. He appeared to be somewhat disturbed by the growth. During the time he was alone, he had tried to yank the flowers from his head. Instead of being removed, the flowers doubled in size. It also felt to him like he was yanking part of his scalp.

Kay said to him, since Chalon refused to talk, “I am going to be brief, Paste.”

“It’s Chase,” said Chase. This was indeed not his name. Still, he had the silly superstition that if you did not give out your true name, you where immune to spells and incantations. He thought it a necessary precaution given his current predicament.

“Look, I am not here about the temple robbery. I just want to know if you stabbed my brother,” said Kay.

Chase was thoughtful, and then he said, “No. I only stab people who get in my… I mean who try to do me harm, and today was a fine day indeed, till I developed this growth.”

He then proceeded to scratch his head just below the base of the roots. He removed his hands, when he felt the odd, coils, just beneath his skin.

Chalon drew near Chase, as he scanned every inch of his body. It was then when he placed his hand within Chase’s pocket. Inside, there was a locket with a broken chain. Chalon then handed the locket to Kay.

Kay exclaimed, “Haha! Where did you get this?”

“I found it on the floor,” said Chase.

“Try again. There is not a speck of dirt on it,” said Kay pacing the room left and right as she did when she pretended to be a detective.

Sweating a little, Chase said, “It is a family heirloom. The chain broke and I was taking it to have it fix. I did not want to admit that it was mine cause it looks a little bit girly.”

Kay opened the locket, and inside was a golden curl, and a painted miniature of a maiden in a green dress. Smiling, Kay said, “Tata! This is my brother’s locket, he would never drop it, not even by accident, and even when he does lose it, it has charm that makes it return him one way or another. Now, tell me when and where did you take this from?”

Chase was thoughtful for a moment. Slowly, some of the flowers where drying up and withering. When he noticed the change, the flowers perked up again. He said more to himself, “So that is the nature of this curse. Fine, I will help you, but only if you help me.”

“You are lucky you are not dead, with the way you are pushing your luck,” commented Kay.

“You can’t kill me while I am in custody. I know my rights,” said Chase.

“Rights can always be waned at one’s convenience,” said Kay. Grinning added, “My friend here is a necromancer, he could kill you and turn you into a zombie. You will look as if you are alive, but you would be dead, a mindless puppet who will do our bidding. So, stop it with the roundabouts and tell me what you saw.”

Chase started to remember the incident that had occurred just a few hours ago. Kay noticed that Chalon was reading his mind. Chase was still intending to get something out of it. He would remove some crucial details, and then these fools would have to return to make a bargain with him.

Chalon then wrote the word, “Done.”

Kay knocked on the door, and then said, “He is all yours boss.”

Sir Ladarius opened the door to let Kay and Chalon out. Chase was confused as to what had just occurred. It was then when he started to believe the rumors that magic users where mind readers. There where spells designed to mindread people. Still, they could easily be countered since magic users where of the habit of using magic words, when casting magic.

When outside, Kay said to Sir Ladarius, “He stole from my brother, but he did not stab him.”

Frowning, Sir Ladarius said, “Even if he did not stab your brother, the knife is stained with fresh blood.”

Chalon wrote, “May I see this knife.”

Sir Ladarius procured the knife from one of the nearby cabinets. Chalon took the knife and examined it. All the prints indeed showed that Chase was the owner of the knife. After smelling it over the top, Chalon did not recognize the smell of Jay. The strongest, most pungent smell did not have a human source as well. Despite knowing what it was, Chalon tasted the knife. He then wrote, “It is steak.”

“Oh…so that explains it. I don’t know why he would use the weapon of his trade, but at least we know the perp has not murdered anyone recently,” said Sir Ladarius.

“You don’t need a knife to kill people, you know,” said Kay.

“So true,” said Ladarius.

“We should be on our way,” said Kay.

Sir Ladarius led Chalon and Kay out of the prison. Once outside, Chalon gestured to Kay to tell her what memory fragments he had managed to syphon from Chase. Chalon reached into his robes, and he pulled out his long expositional board. Since he was still within range of the prison, some of the guards grew curious. One drew nearer and came to silently stand behind Chalon and Kay to read what he was writing.

Chalon wrote this, “The thief who called himself Chase had just finished selling the leather he had bought using the stolen coins from the temple. He always exchanged his coins, before returning to the inn. He never did the money laundry in the same place. Anyhow, along the way he saw Jay with a girl he was taking by the hand. The pair seemed to be in a hurry. He took this chance to bump into Jay. He was able to pilfer the chain locket. It had such a weak looking chain, that it was just begging to get stolen. The girl he was escorting was sporting the uniform of one of the workhouses…”

Chalon was about to write more, when the guard standing behind him said, “So, your friend escaped with one of our working girls.”

“He did not escape, he got stabbed in the guts,” said Kay.

“That’s a shame. You do one a solemn, and they reward you by backstabbing you, or in his case front stabbing,” said the guard. He added, “If you tell what the uniform looks like, I might be able to point you in the right directions. As of now, there are four Workhouses. Depending on the color of the dress, is the nature of the crime. It is a good visual clue for the patrons who are foolhardy enough to deal with their kind.”

Chalon putted his chalkboard away and brought back his regular one. He wrote, “The dress was red.”

“Was she wearing shoes, or was she sporting sandals?” asked the guard.

“Sandals,” wrote Chalon.

“How many toe rings was she wearing?” asked the guard.

“One, on her two fat toes,” wrote Chalon.

“What does this have to do with anything?” asked Kay.

“I am trying to narrow down the search. The red dress belongs to the murderer wards. The sandals illustrate that she committed the murder without a weapon. The rings related to the type of item she used as her weapon. Had she used traditional weapons; the ring would have been on her finger. The rings are cursed, like the flowers of Ortisa. She would have to cut off her own toe to be rid of the curse, but then she would have to deal with the blood loss,” explained the helpful guard.

“Mmm,” said Kay raising an eyebrow, “You learn new things every day.”

“Indeed, the justice system in Sassari is very interesting. Back when I was working in Aragon, the criminal system was quite nasty indeed, with the tortures and the public humiliations. It was a wonder why people even dared to steal a loaf of bread. Though I heard things have settled down somewhat as of lately, but I am not too keen on returning,” said the guard, “But pay me no mind. Now, about this ring of yours. Where was it again?”

Chalon wrote, “On the right fat toe.”

“Ah, yes, the right fat toe. That my friend is poison. Most women murder people with poison. It is amassing how many poisoned husbands crowd up our morgues. I blame arrange marriages.  I am surprised they are still being practice, considering the liberal climate of this, our fair city of Sassari,” said the guard.

“Are you the town’s official crier? What’s with all the advertisement?” asked Kay.

“That’s my day job on the weekends,” said the guard.  

“It was fun chatting with you, we better get going,” said Kay, “Oh, before I forget. Which is the Workhouse for the murderers?”

“It located on 4^th Sheryl Street, and 17^th Emily Avenue. Look for a building that has ornamental bar windows. The lights should still be on. In the front garden, it has a tree swing. I think the tree is a willow tree. Odd choice, indeed. When you come to the entrance ask for Hanina. She knows me. By the way, my name is Sir Pip, but you guys can call me Pip,” said Pip.

Pip was indeed the knight’s name. He was the bastard of one of the nobles of Aragon. Since his mistress was an exiled elf, Pip did not have a family name, nor did his mother use her family name. Since the record people needed a last name for his birth certificate, Pip was given the go to last name of Aragon. People with irregular births just had the last name of where they hailed from.

Pip has shown himself rather useful because a gypsy had helped him in the past. Back in Aragon, he had been accused of a crime that he did not commit. It was thanks to a gypsy testimony that he avoided losing more than just his nails. They grew back eventually, but during the in between period, it was rather painful to try to do anything with his hands.

“Thank you Pip,” said Kay bowing.

Chalon did a curtsy to show his appreciation for Pip’s aid. Pip smiled when he note the gender swap of the bows. After this show of courtesy, Chalon and Kay started on their way.